#it got to the point where ive started making eye contact and forcing them to look away first | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lookismaddict · 1 year

Text

Lookism: Rendezvous 🔞 (Ch. V) || Gun Park x Fem! Reader ♡

Author’s Note: It is the moment that you’ve ALL BEEN WAITING FOR. 💀 Finally, the snu snu! The literal ice cream, not the cherry on top. As you may have noticed from the last chapter, the final part of Ch. IV was the opening part from the Introduction with the teaser. In the Intro., it was just a summary of what would lead up to Ch. IV. Which means, that from this chapter onwards, the story will now be taken place in the “now”. Anything can happen at this point. 🤭 It’s time to turn your mind off for this one, and I hope you enjoy the spice in this chapter. 🌚 (Also, I apologize but the format for this chapter is a little weird. I tried spacing out paragraphs and stuff but it won’t let me so the text is all clumped together. 🙃)

NSFW Warning: Strong language/cursing, sexual language, and sexual content (teasing, marking, degrading, praise, oral, penetration, rough sex, edging, etc.).

Story Summary: You traveled abroad to help support your mother who is sick, back home in Japan. However, once you reached Korea, everything went downhill until you met a stranger who offered you a deal that could benefit you. But who knew that this special encounter would turn your whole life around…

Both of your lips collided with each other without any hesitation. With your hands running down his scarred muscular back, and the muffled moans coming from Gun’s hungry kiss for you, it only just turned him on even more. There was no time to waste when the two of you were so greedy for each other.

Gun’s lips slowly went down on you, as he took his time to plant hickies in almost every bare spot he sees on your body. First, your neck was detected by his beastly eyes as he left a collar of marks on your delicate skin. And every time a mark appears on your skin, he gets to hear those beautiful moans of yours. To Gun, it was like music to his ears. A literal symphony, not even Fur Elise could compare to the wonderful tones of your voice in pure bliss.

His lips then traveled down to your chest. Gun’s strong lean arms hugged your figure to support your body, forcing you to sit up on the bed for him to suck on your soft breasts. While hugging your waist close to him, his tongue played with each of your succulent breasts, making sure to pleasure your nipples to the point that they harden. As his mouth sucked on one of your breasts, one of his hands got busy with the other as he repeatedly brushed your nipple with his thumb in circular motions and pinched it, making you gasp in pleasure. Even though he’s been sucking your nipples, your bare chest didn’t go unnoticed since he started sucking on almost every spot he could find on your chest that’s worth marking. On top of each breast and on the center of your chest was where he made sure that the hickies he’d planted would last for a week, as you groaned in sweet pain from his marks.

Afterwards, his lips traveled farther south towards your legs. He got in between your legs, forcing them to open up for him. Your face flushed, thinking that Gun will finally take you there and now, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, he knew that whatever you were anticipating was not going to happen yet, so he decided to tease you to make you beg for him to conquer you.

While maintaining his eye contact with you, he held onto both of your legs, caressing them both with his attractive hands. Then, he started at your right foot, by holding onto it firmly. His mouth met the base of your foot, slowly brushing his lips up towards your ankle. While doing so, his lips crept up your right leg, leaving wet kisses on each soft spot of your leg. The eye contact he was making while seductively teasing you made your core pulsate in need and your breathing heavy, lighting something up inside of you. At the same time, you were embarrassed that your legs was spreading wider and wider every time his lips got closer and closer to your wet heat. Gun never dared to look away from your eyes, enjoying the sight of your face turning red from embarrassment. That’s just the sight that kept him going.

Finally, his lips stopped right on your inner thigh. As he pulled your inner thigh up to his face, he began leaving wet kisses up your thigh, slowly making his way more towards your heat. Your leg started quivering from his heated kisses, which made you pant uncontrollably.

He noticed you breathing heavily from how turned on he was making you, as he gave you a wicked smirk. “Eventually, you’ll be moaning more for me in no time. See? You’re already panting like a bitch in heat.”

You covered your mouth with the back of your hand then glared at him, replying through clenched teeth with, “Shut up.”

Gun chuckled devilishly, loving your rebellious retorts every time he teases you. However, that rebellious spirit of yours would eventually break for him. Boldly, he pulled your leg much more closer to him, leveling his face with your thigh before pressing his lips onto the top part of your inner thigh, right next to your core. When he pulled onto your leg, he forced you to lay on your back while your eyes looked up at him. The rest of your right leg was resting on his shoulder as your foot was now pointing up towards the ceiling. As he readied your leg for himself, he held onto your thigh with both of his hands before he started sucking on your inner thigh, making you gasp in pain and pleasure. His eyes met yours while doing so, making you blush at the sight of him looking at your pleasured face as he was sucking on your thigh, with his face so close to your private part.

He pulled away from your thigh, as he observed a purple blemish making its appearance on your thigh. After that, he proudly kissed it, making your thigh his.

“Are you ready for me to finally ravish you whole?”

“W-what…?”

Mischievously, he grabbed onto your other leg without warning before pulling both of your legs even closer to him, having your cunt centered to match the level of his face. Your whole back was now completely flat against the mattress, tilting your head up to see what he’s about to do next while your hands stayed flat on the surface of the bed. Now, Gun can see the view of your face below him even when your heat was right in front of his face.

“I wonder what kind of sounds you’d make when I do this…”

While he was still holding up your legs, you saw his tongue starting to lick your cunt in a very provocative way. He looked straight into your eyes, still holding onto the eye contact between you two, as he started to tease your clit with his tongue. At the same time, you reacted with such a soft moan at first until your moans started to emit itself more vocally as his tongue flicks your knob with more pressure. You gripped onto the sheets due to the exponential amount of pleasure that’s starting to build up from the stimulation of your cunt’s nerves. Unconsciously, you moved your hips more towards Gun’s tongue, making him pull back from your clit smirking.

“Why are you bucking your hips towards me? Do you want me to make you cum that badly? Well, you’re just going to have to wait. I need to loosen you up a bit, so I’m not done with you yet. What a naughty girl…”

All of a sudden, his grip on your legs became much harder, spreading both of your legs apart in front of his face while still gripping onto them before his tongue entered your hot insides, making it even more wetter than before.

“Ahhh~” you moaned in bliss, feeling his tongue explore the inside of your heat. While he was eating you out like a starving man, he groans from the taste of your sweet cunt and from him pleasing you. His tongue, however, wasn’t enough to break your hymen. Wet slurping noises coming from the contact of his tongue inside of you had filled the room with your dirty moans. As his tongue started to pick up speed while caressing your walls, your legs started to shake and you felt something building up inside of you, making you clench the bed sheets even tighter.

“O-oh god, I feel something coming… I think I’m about to…!!!”

In a moment’s notice, an intense amount of pleasure hit your body all at once like a tidal wave. Your insides clenched around his tongue and suddenly, you released your vaginal juices onto his tongue. He watched your body twitch during your climax, as he finally took his tongue out from you. You watched a trail of his saliva leaving your cunt, leaving you to lay there exhausted from cumming so hard.

Once he released your legs, he sat down facing you on the bed before he grabbed onto one of your arms to pull you up towards him. Your eyes widened in surprise as you leaned against his chest. Within a second, he grabbed onto your chin to tilt your head up to kiss you feverishly, missing your lips on his. When he was kissing you, he sneaked his tongue into your mouth, forcing you to taste your own sweet insides. You moaned into the kiss while you placed both of your hands on his chest. His lips, however, parted from yours as a mixed line of saliva and your juices left both of your mouths.

“How do you like the taste of yourself?”

The reaction he got from you was priceless as your face turned to a bright tint of red, which made him chuckle before he repositioned himself on the bed by laying flat next to you.

“Now service me.”

Your eyes traveled from his handsome face, to his strong chest full of scars, to his solid abs, until they made it all the way down to where your eyes stopped at his thick, huge phallus. He hithered you to come closer towards his cock, which made you feel your heart pound. When you scooted closer to his hard member, your chest started pounding from how close it is to you.

“U-um… how do I… ‘service’ you?”

Gun blankly pointed at his own mouth, then pointed at his cock. “Use your mouth to suck me off.”

“Ah, okay…”

The more that you got your face closer to his phallic dick, the more your heart started to race faster and faster. Your eyes stared at his hard figure in front of you, until your eyes shifted to his face. His gaze was piercing straight into your eyes, as he observed your every move. Quickly, you looked away from him as your focus was back on his cock.

This is so embarrassing. I can’t do it when he’s just staring at me like this. But I have to. He made me feel good, and I want to make him feel good too.

Before gathering the courage to “service” him, you took a deep breath then sighed.

Here goes nothing…

Your mouth closed in on his tip, while your tongue swirled against his tip in a circular motion, tasting his pre-cum that had already accumulated from how aroused he was. Gun let out a heavy sigh, watching you slowly take him into your mouth little by little. Despite his thick size, you decided to try and go deeper as your mouth slowly went down on his long shaft. By watching his own cock slowly being swallowed up by your pretty little mouth, he began to grow impatient.

“I can’t take this anymore.”

All of a sudden, he sat up to grab a handful of your hair from behind your head, then pulled down onto your long curled locks.

Consequently, he forced your mouth all the way down onto his length, which made you gag as it hit the back of your throat. Because of that, you looked at him in alarm.

What the hell is he doing?!

Gun stared at you intimidatingly while still holding onto your hair as he said, “Now, suck on it and do it properly this time. Use your hands while you’re at it.”

You obeyed him willingly, as you began to pump his shaft and bobbed your head up and down onto his dick. He groaned in pleasure, thinking how you’re not bad for a beginner who hasn’t sucked dick before. The way you were making eye contact with him while trying to satisfy him with your sloppy blowjob had turned him on even more, in which you felt his huge member got even larger in size than before, inside your mouth. Your eyes widened in surprise from his unexpected increase in size, but you caught yourself from gagging onto his cock.

Holy crap, did it just get bigger or something???

As a result, he started to forcefully arch his dick into your mouth, tugging onto your hair downwards while fucking your mouth mercilessly, resulting in your eyes to water from how big his cock was.

“Mmm, yeah… take it all in for me. Just like that, good girl.”

Gagging, you breathed in through your nose trying to match his intense pace. You closed your eyes, while your mouth was still going down on him. When he caught you shutting your eyes, his hand automatically yanked on your hair, which made you open them once more as you turned your gaze back onto his dark intimidating eyes.

“Look at me when you’re sucking me off. I want to see your eyes on me when I cum into that dirty little mouth of yours.” he hissed, while still hitting the back of your throat with his solid length.

His own demands made Gun seem like he was the king of the bed, which made you submit to his every instruction. Weirdly enough, you found his dominating personality to be attractive in his own way. He already seemed like an alpha male when you first met him, but you didn’t expect him to be this domineering.

When you were massaging his dick in your hand while simultaneously pleasuring him with your mouth, you noticed his breathing was starting to hitch.

“Fuck, almost there…” he said through his sexually arousing groans.

At this moment, you believed that this was a sign to speed things up and give him what he needed. While you were still sucking him off, you picked up the pace as your head started to bob on his dick in a quicker speed. Surprised by your sudden change of pace, Gun held onto your hair even tighter as he pushed his hips towards your mouth even more. The sounds of his cock hitting the back of your throat and the sounds you were making while servicing him with your wet mouth made Gun feel like he was in a high rush.

When Gun felt the need to climax, he gave one last shove of his cock into your throat while pulling your handful of hair all the way down onto his shaft, making you take every inch of him. When he released his loads of his seed down your throat, your mouth was about to release his cock, but he still held his grasp onto your hair saying, “Swallow it, and I mean ALL of it. I want every last drop to go down your throat and let it stay there inside your stomach.” You did as you were told, as you swallowed all of his load in one gulp. While Gun was watching you follow his orders, he slowly released your hair, allowing you to finally free your mouth from his moist cock. His eyes stared at the thin line of saliva that was connected from his dick to your mouth to disappear as you backed away from his wet member. The resulting mess on his cock had your leftover saliva dripping down from the tip of his length all the way down to his balls. Just by looking at the aftermath of that sloppy top, his dick still remained firm and solid. You were surprised by how hard his member still was after you have finished pleasing him with your own mouth.

“You were really feeling it at the end, huh? I’m impressed. For such a naughty woman, you really are a fast learner. It makes me even proud to have become your personal trainer. And just by looking at how focused you were on my cock like that gets me turned on even more...”

In the speed of light, he grabbed onto your arm and pulled you next to him onto the bed, making you lay flat on your back. He flipped over swiftly onto your side, as he is now on top of you. Anxiously, your heart started to palpitate wildly knowing that this is it. It is now the time that you’ve been anticipating for.

“Spread your legs for me.”

At this point, you were hypnotized by his words and you couldn’t refuse his strong power over you. Obediently, you followed his command as your legs parted in front of him. He slowly got in between your long legs, as he pulled you closer to him by the legs.

“I’m guessing that you’re a virgin. Am I right?”

You slowly nodded at him, averting his eyes bashfully.

“Alright, then I’ll give you two options. Since this will be your first time, we can either do this with condoms or without condoms and I’ll just get you an After-Pill tomorrow. I don’t mind either option, as long as we’re safe about the way we go about this. So, you decide.”

As he informed you of the situation at hand, you thought about it for a minute. You turned your attention back to his eyes then explained your decision to him in confidence. “Since it’s my first time, I want to make this special. So, I want to…” However, the built up confidence that you’ve gathered faded in an instant as you looked to the side, avoiding his eyes awkwardly. “I-I want to… feel you… properly…”

Ugh, I can’t look him in the eyes. This is so embarrassing. I can’t believe that these words just came out of my mouth just now.

Gun’s expression looked taken aback, until he smirked mischievously at your blushing caricature. “I had a feeling you’d say that…” he said as he leaned closer towards your neck then gave you a kiss on a hickey that he made on the side of your neck.

Suddenly, his voice converted to a low husky whisper saying, “Who knew you’d be such a shameless woman?”

You felt heat rising in your cheeks, when you instantly felt his hard erection rubbing against your entrance at a slow speed, causing for soft moans to escape from your mouth. The tip of his cock repeatedly poked your entrance a few times and afterwards, his whole entire length rubbed back and forth onto your clit, which made you gasp in light pleasure.

“If you want it, beg for it. Tell me. What do you want, (Y/N)?”

You looked into his eyes in need but the words couldn’t come out as you struggled to respond through your moans. Gun was planning to break your mind at some point, and he’s getting close to doing so.

With his devilish smirk still printed on his face, he tauntingly repeated himself once more but in a more assertive tone. “Beg for it and tell me NOW, (Y/N). What DO you want?”

With the last amount of sanity you had left, you whimpered with a broken, “P-please… I want you… inside me…”

At that moment, you witnessed a look on Gun’s face that you’ve never seen before. His facial expression became manic, like a demon that had been granted access to possess someone’s body. A triumphant grin started to form on his face, as he positioned his cock steadily on the entrance of your craving heat. Before entering, he leaned in closer to your face meeting eye contact with you, as he gave a lowly whisper once more.

“Good girl. You already know, that there’s no turning back. I’ll turn you into a blossomed woman and I’ll make sure to reward you with immense pleasure, to the point that I’ll make you go insane…”

And with that, his stiff member slowly entered your core little by little. Pain started to surge throughout your body, as you felt your flesh being torn from the inside of your private, along with your hymen. You reacted by wrapping your arms around Gun’s body desperately, pulling him closer to you as you cry out in pain. Every inch of him became wrapped by your walls, spreading your tight cunt for the first time. When all of him had reached your cervix, he gave a satisfied groan. At the same time of when you released your arms around him after his entrance, he looked down below him to marvel at the sight of his cock finally inside you. However, there was a bit of blood trickling out from your cunt due to your broken hymen and your torn flesh from inside you.

“Oh, you’re bleeding…”

“W-what?!”

Quickly, you sat up to look at the sight of how the both of you are now connected in body. Your eyes widened as you saw the stain of blood on his bedsheets, from your bleeding vagina. Gun could see the worry in your eyes, making him snicker deeply in amusement.

“Don’t worry, this is natural. This happens whenever a virgin has sex for the first time, so don’t worry about it. Right now, worry about something else.”

“B-but what about the blo-”

Without any warning, he started to thrust his hips into you, starting off slow. You yelped in pain, as your arms returned around his body, making you cling onto him for comfort. While he kept thrusting into you, you felt the pain starting to subside as it was now replaced by pleasure. Gun noticed the change in your voice, as your painful gasps turned into pleased moans, in which he began to pick up speed. “From now on, you better get used to this.” he warned dangerously.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin and the sloshing wet noises of your pussy being rammed by his cock was all that you and Gun could hear. Nothing but moans and groans of immense pleasure had filled the room, including the creaking of Gun’s bed rocking. His eyes stared at your blissful reactions, as he rammed his dick into your sweet spot over and over again with intensity. At that moment, Gun thought that he was in heaven. A literal paradise, where he can finally escape from the outside world of chaotic violence for one night and just be with you, pleasuring each other till the both of you break. It was truly a significant ordeal for him.

Gun’s mouth curved to a wicked grin, as he looked down at you writhing in pleasure from his own body. Of course, he felt satisfied that he was the one to give you a taste of pleasure for the first time. Just making you his had became his obsession. An addiction. One that made him promise to himself that, that night was the night that you officially became his. It will be unforgettable.

Unexpectedly, he eagerly pulled his cock out right away just to position both of your thighs up to the level of your head and your feet to be pointing towards the ceiling, making you gasp in surprise and emit a needy groan from the loss of skin-to-skin contact. Your body was now bent in a weird ninety degree angle, with your ass and pussy positioned towards the ceiling, while your back still laid flat on the bed. He repositioned himself, bending his knees down over your gaping vaginal hole, then hovered his dick for only a second over a glorious sight of you beneath him. And without hesitation, he plunged his thick member into you for another time. You screamed in pleasure once more, when his thrusts became much rougher than from the previous position. At this newer position, you could feel his cock angled perfectly, hitting your g-spot just right while making your toes curl in the air. His strong hands held onto your shoulders tightly as he continued to plunge himself into you at such an incredible speed, that your hands were shaking from his intensely quick and powerful movements. Gun loved the sight of you starting to lose your senses from his aggressive mating-press, as he decided to tease you harshly while he fucks you senseless.

“So (Y/N), about that little apology you came up with earlier… go ahead and apologize to me properly this time.”

“W-what…?”

“Go on. I’m listening.”

“I- mmmph…!!”

Your mind couldn’t process what he was currently asking you. Right now, you were living in the moment of pure pleasure and every time he rams his thick cock inside of you, your mind resets and goes blank. He enjoyed how you were unable to barely form any words, due to the overwhelming feeling that his own dick was giving you. All he heard were just babbles of broken words and audible moaning, making him pleased with himself in how much of a wreck he had made of you.

“You don’t have anything to say to me? About how much of a whore you were being tonight? Especially, back at that restaurant. You were DYING to get me to do this to you, right? That’s right… indecent women like you need to be punished and I’m here to discipline you.”

The erotic moans that were coming out of your mouth started to intensify, as you were nearing for another climax. Again, right when he felt you grab onto his strong muscular arms while digging your nails into his skin from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that was building up inside of you, he took his cock out immediately, leaving you in a cold sweat of shock. When he did that, you looked up at him desperately with need. You wanted him to finish you off that bad as it shows on your face, and that gets a good kick out of him. That look on your face that tells him that you wanted him, really turned him into a madman.

“Get on all fours.”

A look of confusion appeared on your face, making him glare down right at your direction.

“Don’t make me fucking wait.”

There it is again. His alpha male personality is showing.

Nodding, you followed his order right away as you got on your hands and knees.

“L-like this…?”

Gun gave a sly sneer while shaking his head slightly.

“You’ve got ways to go, (Y/N). However, you learn quickly, so you’ll get it if you practice.”

Instantly, your face blushed as the word “practice” caught your attention.

“Practice”…? Does that mean that we’ll be doing this again?

The thought of doing sexual acts with Gun over and over again made your heart do summersaults. It also made you flustered, to the point that you weren’t aware that he was touching you from behind, trying to modify how you position yourself.

You felt his strong hands smooth out your back, forcibly pressing them against your upper back for your chest and face to be buried onto the bed sheets. Afterwards his hands grabbed onto your hips, angling your ass up more, over where his dick is leveled at.

“Good, now you’re all ready for me.”

As you heard him murmur those words, the sensation of his hands holding onto your plump ass and his cock rubbing onto you to get you wet again had you let out a blissful sigh.

“Oh? You already feeling good just from when I touch you lightly like this? Hmm… you’re such a lewd woman. I’ve already converted you into my own personal toy so quickly that you make me want to break you right here, right now.”

“Personal toy”? Is that really how he sees me? Am I just an ordinary woman for him that he can just do on the side? I know that I accepted this, but does he really feel how I feel towards him?

He leaned onto you from behind, feeling his chest pressed up against your back as he ran his hand down your long curled locks from your head. He started combing strands of your hair from behind your ear with his fingers gently before gathering a whole lock of it from behind, to pull your head up with it like a leash. This sudden act had caused you to yelp in surprise, from the unexpected roughness, making you grit your teeth in humiliation.

“Bastard…”

He really is trying everything on me, like I’m his test subject.

For some reason, Gun gets a high out of dominating the hell out of you through many ways. Your vulnerability really does make him express things that he normally doesn’t do or show and that really became a rare sight for him. A true mystery that he’s about to test out right about now.

“‘Bastard’ huh? Your mouth is as dirty as your corrupted mind. I’ve never felt this challenged by a woman who is beneath me in bed before. Not to mention, your reactions always surprise me. You truly are an amazing woman.” he said it with such proudness that his words made you even more confused about how he viewed you.

“Oh please, Gun. Make up your damn mind already. What am I really to you? Aren’t I just your ‘personal toy’ just like you said?”

When he heard your words, it made him ponder about it for a minute. What were you really to him? Both of you already crossed the line of trainer and student, so… what was his relationship to you labeled as now? It got complicated too quickly.

“I’ve already delved in too deeply into our relationship to the point that it won’t be the same as what we were from the beginning. So, I apologize that I was being pushy and rough with you when we first started doing this. I am somewhat at a loss of morale, ever since I said that I wouldn’t cross the line before. But now that I see you in front of me, I just couldn’t resist. I’m a greedy man, (Y/N). If I want something, then I’ll do anything to get it. Even if that means, having you all to myself like this…”

Gun slowly released his tight grip on your hair, now running his fingers through your long hair delicately down your back. When he reached the tip of your hair, his hand brushed along your spine, making you shiver from just the light sensual touch of his fingers. Just watching you shiver from his touch like that sparked a new fire inside of him. Not just his burning desire for you, but his passion that he wants to give you so badly.

“(Y/N).”

When you heard him call your name from behind, you turned your head around until you felt the presence of his lips meet yours. His kiss wasn’t rough this time, as his lips brushed against yours gently. As you kissed him back, you felt his tongue enter your mouth again, making your tongue dance with his. The kiss was way different than before, ever since the two of you started kissing each other passionately. The mood changed between you two as you felt longing coming from him, as if he didn’t want to ever let you go.

Once he pulled his lips away from yours, you felt his length rubbing against your private once again. You felt one of his arms wrapped around your waist from behind, before saying, “Sorry (Y/N), I can’t wait any longer.”

From those words, he abruptly inserted himself into you once more. Starting off slow, he kept his speed mildly controlled this time, just for you. However, you didn’t expect his slow thrusts to drive you crazy. His slow movements were basically torture for you. The more he did you slowly, the more you felt the pleasure teasing your insides. It made you feel greedy for more, as you suddenly grabbed onto his arm from behind you. He made eye contact with your desperate eyes, in which he interpreted it the way that you wanted.

“After I changed my pace for you, you’re still as needy as ever. My woman became such a slut for me in such a short amount of time. We haven’t even reached a whole month together yet, and you’re already losing it. Bad girl...”

Gun rubbed his hands on both of your ass cheeks sensually, before sending one of his hands down onto your right cheek, smacking it which left a red mark on the spot. When you felt the sharp blow of his hand on your ass, you let out a cry of pain.

“Hey!!! What are you- ahhhn~!!”

Gun’s thrusting speed quickened rapidly, as he started to fuck you like a rabid dog, just how your body wanted. His movements felt like they were inhumane, as if you were making love to an actual beast. The way he held you firmly by your love handles while repeatedly jabbing his dick into you made your eyes roll back into their eye sockets a few times, seeing stars.

While fucking your brains out, Gun loved watching your strong character crumble just from his touch. Eyes watering, saliva dripping from the sides of your mouth, and the heavy panting and moans coming out of your pretty little mouth. The woman whom he have built to become an unbeatable warrior to help destroy his own creations, was now vulnerable and weakened by him. Somehow, it made him feel like a god. No. Not just a god. THE God.

The way you were moaning underneath him, and the power he had over you was enough for him to replenish his ongoing strength over and over again. Your moans, in specific, were like sounds that were worshipping his heavenly dick and he took that interpretation of himself personally. He never got tired of seeing your desperate cries, your teared-up face, and the way your sensitive body reacts to him as you struggle to keep yourself up from him breaking you from behind was all too good to be true. And he felt relieved that this all wasn’t a dream.

“You’re so beautiful, taking all of me in like that. I’ll make sure that your insides form into the shape of my cock and I’ll etch that idea into your head until all you ever think about is me. No other man would dare appear in that pretty little head of yours. Only me…”

The erratic movements of his hips smashing into yours was starting to increase energetically, forcing you to grip onto the bed sheets again for support. You could feel a knot inside you building up, while the huge amount of pleasure was starting to ease into your orgasm. With one final thrust into you, you felt his girthy length hit your cervix, causing his cock to twitch and shoot his thick cum inside of you. Simultaneously, your walls contracted around his thick cock while your whole entire body quivered from a great wave of pleasure right when you felt him cum inside you, making you cum as well. His cock stayed inside of you for a whole long minute, filling you up to the brim until finally, he slowly pulled out of you with a satisfied groan. As a result, your upper body collapsed onto the bed from exhaustion while your knees were still bent and your ass was still hanging up in the air. Gun looked down at the sweet creampie that he just gave you, as he watched streams of his milky white cum flow out from your tight cunt. Too much of his seed overflowed from your violated hole, as he viewed some of his seed dripping down your trembling legs. He eyed this scene in awe like he just saw the most beautiful artwork of all. After all, he did create this masterpiece. A 2-in-1 masterpiece, with its strong warrior and her disheveled self violated by God. Now THAT is what he’d interpret, as fine quality art.

Gun sat on the bed beside you, staring at the mess he made out of you while trying to catch his own breath to regain his stamina for another round. On the other hand, you were still in a blissful high, trying to regain your consciousness from your first sexual intercourse.

So this is sex…? I had no idea that it can be THIS intense. I don’t think I can remember what just happened. What EVEN happened???

When he sensed that you’ve regained your consciousness back, he laid his hand on your head, stroking your hair gently that was covering part of your face.

“Was your first time that mind-blowing that you couldn’t even speak?”

“I-I…” you awkwardly cleared your throat while trying to pull yourself up to sit properly beside him. “Well, it wasn’t… that… bad.” you looked away shyly, unable to look at him in the eyes.

A mischievous smirk began to reveal itself on his face. “Oh? So you don’t mind if we go for another round?”

Your head immediately turned around to look at him in shock. “W-what?! Why are you so eager to do it again?! Geez, show some restraint Gun…”

“I can’t, if your beautiful body is displayed to me like that. Plus, you didn’t want me to show restraint a minute ago.”

Your cheeks flushed from his comments, turning your face very red. He chuckled at your bashful reaction, as he came towards you from behind then wrapped his arms around you. While doing so, he then laid his head on your right shoulder, and let out a peaceful sigh. For the first time, you were surprised to see him act like this when he’s with you. That intimidating aura and that strict demeanor of his, became much calmer than when you usually see him. It made you question his actions and how he felt about the two of you now.

“When did you become this straightforward?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… this. What we’re doing right now. It’s more of a… ‘couple thing’ right?”

“I’m just tired. But if that’s what you’d like to think of from what we’re doing right now, then you can believe what you want to believe.”

“So… does that mean we’re ‘that’ now?”

“You can say whatever you want. Labels don’t matter to me.”

His replies were starting to annoy you as you crossed your arms sternly over your chest. “Okay, what’s up with the indirect answers? It’s a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. And what I’m getting from you right now is that you’re experienced in bed, but not in relationships. Have you ever been in a relationship before?”

Gun reached for an open cigarette pack that was laying on top of a nearby bed stand table next to an ash tray, along with his high polished chrome lighter. He lit a cigarette before he could finally reply to you. “I don’t do romance. It doesn’t go with my principles.”

“‘Principles’ huh? That’s some bullshit when I hear one…” you mumbled underneath your breath in irritation.

“I’ve only slept with women just to gain power. Or, even to satisfy my own lust sometimes just on a whim, nothing serious. Even from a young age, I’ve been exposed to many things that ‘normal’ people didn’t grow up with. Violence, greed for money, ambitions to get stronger, lust, and so on so forth. I didn’t think that romance was necessary for my lifestyle.”

“Hmmmm…” while you were learning more about himself, you poked his left cheek with your finger playfully. “Then… would you consider experiencing romance… if it was with me?”

He turned his head towards you nonchalantly, unaffected by your teasing. “We’ll see.”

“Wait, what? Really? But, why would you consider it with me, and not with someone else? There’s a lot of women out there who could be… more compatible with you…”

I even expected him to turn me down directly with the whole “romance” thing since he said it isn’t really his thing. But… what does “we’ll see” even mean?

“Well, isn’t that a mystery? I still can’t believe that I’ve been seduced by you who is an airhead, shameless, greedy, whiny, […]”

“H-hey!!! Now you’re just being rude!”

“What? Am I wrong though?”

“Ohoho, look who’s talking! You’re the selfish, self-entitled, arrogant, crazy, annoying, […]”

The two of you butt heads for about an hour until Gun finally decided to shut you up with a melting kiss after he set down his cigarette and extinguished it on his ash tray. Your eyes widened, taken in surprise from his unexpected move, but you then decided to kiss him back amorously, letting your actions guide you into another dream-like state for the night.

. . .

Throughout the whole night, the two of you tired each other out by drowning yourselves in deep pleasure. Both of your sweaty bodies collided in heat repeatedly, that you’ve lost count of how many times Gun had made you cum.

At that time, he put you in so many positions that it was hard to keep track of them when you’re literally going mad from the intensity of how good you were feeling because of him. His hands were all over you, hitting and rubbing all of your sensitive spots, making you arch your back whenever you felt his touch. Even when he used that godly mouth of his to satisfy your throbbing cunt, you couldn’t help but moan his name every time he felt that you were almost about to climax.

“G-Gun~ …”

Your legs were spread out for him, while his face was buried into your pussy, digging his tongue deep into you while playing with your clit by rubbing it with his thumb. One of his hands were holding you by the ankle, making sure that you couldn’t escape from experiencing another mind-blowing orgasm. He knew that your body has been overstimulated, resulting in your sensitivity increasing every time he touches you. In a way, he finds it sexually arousing to see tears stream down your face from overstimulation, ruining your make-up from earlier. Gun could feel your hand running through his messy hair, while you were throwing your head back in pleasure. The grip on his hair signaled when he should ravish you quickly. Once it gets tighter, that’s when he gives you no mercy. Oddly enough, whenever his hair was grabbed tightly by you, this became a turn on for him now. Before, he would get annoyed and beat up anyone who would mess with his hair. But now, it became a major game changer and that was all thanks to you. (But he’d still beat up the bastards who mess with his hair if it wasn’t you.)

“Gun, I’m gonna cum~!!!”

His dark eyes met your teary ones, as he said in a low demanding voice saying, “Cum for me, (Y/N).”

When you heard his sultry voice command you before he started to roughly play with your sensitive button, his tongue went wild. The slurps and the sucking noises that he was creating from your wet heat made it unbearable for you to even try and stop your orgasm. Finally, your walls squeezed around his tongue, causing you to squirt all over his mouth. Panting, you watched his face come up from your pussy. When he made eye contact with you, he licked his lips in such an erotically attractive manner, which was dripping of your sweet juices.

“You taste so sweet (Y/N), just like candy. I just couldn’t resist your taste.” he let out a devious snicker, making you anxious of what was about to come next.

Eventually, he got on top of you as his lips crashed down onto yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to your body with affection. As the both of you sloppily kissed each other, Gun didn’t hesitate to force your legs open, shoving himself inside you for the millionth time. It was his body that had a mind of its own, repeating the same sinful actions over and over again. For only a moment, Gun questioned himself whether or not he was really himself. He was losing himself to a woman he knew for in less than a month, which made him question whether or not the two of you were going too fast.

“No, it doesn’t matter.” he reassured himself in a hushed voice repeatedly. But his own reassurance to himself made him unnecessarily frustrated with himself and annoyed by something that was so trivial, thinking that he’d turned himself into a lovesick lunatic.

Unconsciously he sped up the pace of his thrusting, pounding into you while making you gasp, which turned into loud moans. You were wondering why his movements were getting rougher, which got you worried for him. His eyes says it all as they were looking down in aggravation, not at your face, but towards your lower stomach as he watched his own phallus form a bulge on your stomach from inside you every time he bruised your cervix.

What’s gotten into him all of a sudden? Why is he acting like this?

You decided to help calm him, as both of your hands reached out to him to gently hold onto his face on both sides, his eyes were automatically drawn to the movement of your hands holding onto him. When you caught his attention, you leaned your face towards him for a warm-hearted kiss. When he caught your lips in his, he deepened the kiss by leaning into your lips more to match your power. His facial expression became less tense, resulting in him to close his eyes.

It amazes Gun that you managed to take his mind off of his worries, like that time when you helped tend to his wounds. Whenever he’s with you, it felt like the world around him began to move in slow motion. It was like time had stopped only for the two of you to indulge in each other’s comfort to the fullest. While intimately engaging in one another’s presence, you also felt like the Earth’s rotation had paused, even though you knew that it was merely impossible. It was just you and him, and nothing is going to interfere with your love-making.

Instantaneously, you felt your walls starting to constrict around Gun’s length, indicating that you were about to cum onto his dick. You moaned into his mouth until finally, you came hard on his cock, squeezing every last drop out of him. The amount of times that his semen had painted your walls was countless. Every time he came inside you, you could feel how hot and sticky it was when it overflows out of your tight pussy, making you shiver when the bodily fluids run down your legs.

The physical fatigue was getting to you, as your eyelids started to feel heavy. You tried to keep your eyes open, keeping your focus on Gun who had grabbed onto one of your hands to intertwine his fingers through yours onto the mattress. He brought your hand onto his lips, kissing the back of your hand tenderly with an infatuated gaze. You heard him murmur something while he had his lips pressed against your hand, but it was inaudible to you as your senses were starting to shut down. However, the last instance that you remembered before drifting off to sleep was his handsome face looking down onto yours dreamily, with a charming rare smile on his face.

Bright rays of sunlight shined through the window, greeting the room for another warm day. Faint sounds of birds chirping can be heard from outside, even when the windows were shut.

Randomly your eyelids twitched, until they slowly opened up for only a second. Unfortunately, you were too tired to even try and open up your eyes at the moment as you decided to try and do it in a few minutes. You laid in bed for a bit, trying to recall what happened to you.

W-what… what happened to me yesterday…?

With your eyes still shut, you were going to move parts of your body such as your arms and legs. Yet, when one of your arms jolted in movement, you felt something heavy that was weighing down on your body, restricting you from even moving properly.

What am I feeling…?

Your eyes sluggishly opened, seeing the room lit up in under the bright sunlight. Until you realized…

This doesn’t look like my room… Huh?

As you looked down at your stretched out arms on the bed, there were another pair of arms wrapped around your body next to yours.

What the-

You flipped around to see where these pair of arms belonged to and it was from none other than Jong Gun Park. His arms were wrapped around you the whole time even while the two of you were sleeping together. His face looked so relaxed as your face was close to his, watching him sleep so peacefully in front of you. You observed his facial features, with his messy hair down, his scar that ran across his closed eyes, his high-nose bridge, his smooth lips, and his sharp chin. He really did look like a handsome movie star who could play a strong lead role in an action movie. Your eyes traveled down to his broad muscular chest covered in scars and his chiseled abs. While staring at him, you noticed that his body was half naked, from the bed sheets that was barely covering his lower body. As your eyes trailed farther down his fit figure, you noticed that it seems like he wasn’t wearing anything underneath the sheets that you were sharing with him, in which he was ACTUALLY naked. Which indicated that…

Oh my god. So that WASN’T A DREAM?!

Warmth started to rise onto your face as you started to recall the memories that have occurred from last night. The moments that you two shared in bed together made your heart race, with those R-Rated XXX scenes going through your head. You never would’ve imagined anything like last night to ever happen to you as you swiftly turned your back to him in shame.

What the hell?! Have I gone insane?! Why did I let my emotions dictate my actions like that? I even threw away the only remaining dignity I had, just because I…

You peeked back at him, still sleeping without a care in the world. Sighing, you were now facing the edge of the bed with his arms still wrapped around your body.

This is crazy. I can’t face him like this. Ugh, (Y/N)! Have you lost your own self-respect?! I just know mom would be so ashamed of me if she ever finds out about this… Geez, I guess there’s no point in turning back time. I just need to get out of here before he wakes up soon and as an apology for my obscenity, I should… make him breakfast! Yeah, that should do it!

Slowly while trying not to cause any disturbing movements or make any noise, your hand grabbed onto his left wrist lightly to pick his entire left arm up, which was laying on top of your body. Gently, you placed it behind you where it now laid close to his body. While rolling onto your left side, you did the same for his right arm. After gently setting down his right arm, you scooted towards the edge of the bed inch by inch while checking to see if he was still asleep. Once your entire right leg was hanging off of the edge of the bed, you tried to feel for the floor at the bottom of the bed before trying to lift yourself up and off of the mattress as quiet as possible. However, every time you did so, your heart jumped whenever the bed creaked from your sudden outbursts of sound that you made, almost giving you a heart attack. But all that hard work and patience paid off as you were now finally free. You stood there triumphantly, silently pumping your fists in the air in short celebration. Without any hesitation, you quickly tip-toed your naked self towards his door, then held onto the door knob while slowly turning it to open. Once you opened the door enough for you to slip through a space fit for your body, you quickly passed through the doorframe before gently shutting the door behind you. It didn’t take long for you to sprint towards your room and shut the door behind you.

“Owww, my body hurts all over from running over here but whew, I made it out of there alive! Gun must’ve been really tired from THAT if he was sleeping so soundly. Like a baby… how cute.” the thought of him sleeping peacefully made you giggle in glee.

“And I guess we aren’t having training today if he’s still sleeping right now. Oh well. But man, I should go and shower first. My body feels icky…”

You walked inside the bathroom then saw a peek of your reflection in the mirror, as there were now lots of hickies all over your body. Thanks to Gun, you now look like a good slice of pepperoni pizza.

“Tch, I take it back. That bastard isn’t cute. He’s a psychopath…”

. . .

After cleaning yourself up and getting dressed in fresh new clothes, you went to your bedside table to check your phone but you realized that it wasn’t there.

“Hm… where did it go? Maybe it’s downstairs. I remembered that the bag from yesterday is down on top of that table.”

You decided to leave your room to go downstairs, and while you were walking down the steps, you heard the doorbell suddenly ring. The doorbell startled you, making you jump down the last step of the stairs.

What should I do? Should I ignore it? If he was awake right now, I would’ve called him to go and get the door himself.

The doorbell rang a few times, as you stood in front of the door, making you even more anxious.

Is it possible to see who it is from behind the door? I remembered he had some type of monitor installed here somewhere…

Next to the door, you were fiddling with a security monitor, trying to navigate its touch-screen functions. Somehow, you managed to pull up the camera outside of the door. However, the person that was standing in front of the door wasn’t someone that you’ve met before, like Goo. This time, it was a woman. Her face was very beautiful, and you could tell that her body was very fit, regardless of the rich business-like attire that she was wearing. The woman started banging on the door, while yelling out loud outside of the door.

“Hello?! Jong Gun?! You forgot about our meeting with the rest of the members today! It’s already one in the afternoon, and the meeting was supposed to be at eleven!”

Who is she? Does she work with him? And holy crap, ONE IN THE AFTERNOON?! I thought it was just ten in the morning! Also, it sounds like he had important plans for today, but he overslept because of me. Ughhh… (Y/N) good job, you made him miss something that was really important to him. Now I REALLY need to apologize to him this time.

In frustration, you hit your head against the door. Immediately, you realized what you’ve just done as you backed away from the door in terror.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

The woman’s facial expression on the intercom looked so confused. You had no choice but to reply to her. When you pressed the button on the screen to turn on the mic that was connected from the inside, you spoke out to her.

“H-hello? Who is this?”

The woman’s face looked surprised, as she was taken aback by your unexpected voice.

“I should be the one asking that question. Who are YOU?”

“Oh, I’m uh…”

Crap, what should I say? I can’t tell her that I’m his roommate or his student that he’s training. It might cause unnecessary suspicion. Quick (Y/N), think!

“I’m his… maid! I was recently hired by Mr. Park to clean his house whenever he leaves the house unattended.”

“I see. You sound a bit young to be his maid. I would expect an older woman to be hired as a maid. Are you sure that’s what you really are?”

Why is she still questioning me even though I told her who I am? Tch. Is she suspecting that I’m someone else?

“Yes ma’am, I’m SURE about my own position. I find your questioning to be quite rude, since Mr. Park didn’t mention anything about having visitors at this time.”

“Oh, yes. Well, I came here without notice because Jong Gun and I have some important matters to discuss but he was unexpectedly late today. He normally is right on time, so I decided to come here and see if he was doing alright.”

“Ah, alright...”

“Is he there?”

“Yes, he’s still in the house ma’am.”

“Great. Then let me in.”

“Pardon?”

“Since you said he’s there, then let me in. I need to discuss something with him urgently.”

Didn’t he tell me not to open the door, even if someone “claims” to be associated with him? Well, rules ARE rules…

“I’m sorry ma’am, but I cannot do that.”

“And why not?”

“Mr. Park didn’t authorize me to open the door just for ANYONE.”

The woman on the intercom scoffed while face-palming herself.

“This is outrageous… Do you know who I am?! I am the chairman’s daughter of HNH Group, Crystal Choi. I don’t know if he told you this, but Jong Gun Park works for ME as my bodyguard. So, as his boss, I advise you to let me in. I don’t have time for this.”

“Well, Ms. Crystal Choi, my boss Mr. Park, didn’t say anything about letting people into his own home without his permission. Therefore, I simply CANNOT do that.”

“What type of maid won’t let an important figure in?!”

“Regardless of how important you think of yourself, ma’am, I still can’t let you in. The rules are absolute!”

“You know, for a maid, you’re really rude! No sense of proper education at all!”

The remark that Crystal gave you caused you to scowl as your blood was now boiling in rage.

“Oh yeah?! Well at least I know how to follow some easy rules around here! Unlike, a certain SOMEONE WHO-”

“(Y/N)!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

Alarmed, you turned around to see Gun standing furiously at the bottom of the stairs, with a towel covering his lower half of his body while his upper half was still glistening with a bit of water. He was glaring daggers at you, while drying his hair with a smaller towel in his hands. You assumed that he just got out of the shower.

“I-I… uh… someone’s here to see you…”

Gun stormed towards you to see who it was on the security monitor. Frightened by his sudden outburst of anger, you backed away from the monitor without any hesitation then looked down at your feet in shame, like a little puppy who got scolded by their master.

There goes my opportunity to surprise him with a meal…

“Crystal, what are you doing here?”

“Jong Gun, is that you? I came because you missed the meeting today! This morning, everyone was there except for you. They were getting impatient just from waiting for you, so I took responsibility as your employer and I proposed an alternative time for the meeting. I told my father that I’ll be bringing you to the meeting which will now be at three o’ clock. We were all wondering why you didn’t show up at all.”

“I see… I apologize, I went to bed late last night trying to organize some business-related matters.”

While listening to their conversation, you snickered behind him while your arms crossed.

“Yeah, ‘business-related matters’, let’s go with that. What a liar…”

Gun heard you from behind, which resulted in him to turn around to look at you with a deadly stare. When your eyes met, you quickly avoided his hard gaze by turning your head to your side to stare at the TV across the lounge area while whistling to yourself.

“Oh, Jong Gun…”

Gun turned his attention back to Crystal who was still there outside of the door.

“Yeah?”

“Tell your maid to open the door next time whenever I visit. Apparently, she doesn’t know who I am.”

Damn. She HAD to tell on me, huh? Is she really going to get a free pass or what?

Gun didn’t say anything, as there was an awkward pause of silence until Crystal decided to say something else.

“Alright, get ready so that we’ll get there by two thirty. I’ll wait for you in the car outside.”

As Gun watched her leave the front door from the intercom, he turned his attention back to you.

“So, maid?”

“A-ah, well you see… I couldn’t say ‘roommate’ or ‘student’ because they both sound like terrible backstories to explain. It would’ve been a pain for you to explain to her, so I chose ‘maid’ as an easier option. ”

“That explains the ‘maid’ part. But why were you yelling at her?”

“It’s because she kept insisting that I’d open the door for her, when I don’t even know who the HELL SHE WAS!!! I only followed your rules, and I did NOT open the door for anybody, even if they said that they knew you. There’s no way I’m opening that damn door, especially if I didn’t have your permission in the first place. Hmph.”

Gun took a few steps closer to you then gave you an adoring pat on your head. His hand gently pet your head a few times, like a master would for a loyal dog. His comforting touch made you feel lightheaded, as if you were floating in a really fluffy cloud.

“You remembered my words, good job. And for that, you deserve a reward.”

You looked up at him in curiosity. “A reward?”

Without any warning, he picked you up into his arms bridal-style, carrying you towards the lounge area.

“Hey, Gun! What the hell are you-”

When he reached the couch, he threw you down onto it before he removed the towel covering his now, erected member. You gulped in nervousness as your legs trembled at the sight of him fully naked in front of you. Setting aside the towels he was occupied with, he got on top of you once again while your body was laying down on the couch. His attractive body was now hovering above you, and you didn’t know what to do.

“G-Gun, what are you…”

“Five minutes.”

“What?”

“Give me five minutes for me to send your body all the way to heaven.”

“I- …”

What the hell is this man even on?!

[End of Ch. V]

605 notes · View notes

lunar-wandering · 3 years

Text

Shattered Masks

so ive got.....a new AU........

Word Count: 973 words

Read on Ao3

MK stepped into the garden twenty minutes before sunset.

It had taken him forever to find this place, it's location having been a well guarded secret for years.

Well, until now that is.

Honestly, MK isn't entirely sure how he managed to find this place, he was certain that he had gotten lost no less than 12 times (a fact he wouldn't be relaying to the Lady, once he makes his report), so he has no idea how he managed to somehow find himself in the garden he was looking for.

But he'd done it.

And he knew he'd done it, because from where he stood, at the edge of the garden, he could see the Ruyi Jingu Bang.

The Monkey King's staff.

Slowly, wary of any possible traps, MK walked down one of the many stone paths leading to the pedestal at the center of the garden. Offhandedly, he noted the way the flowers in the garden looked well cared for.

He wondered who tended to them.

He hopped over the small moat in between the rest of the garden and the main pedestal, pulling up the edge of his cloak to keep it from getting damp. With more care than he would ever admit to using, he stepped over top of the row of forget-me-nots that circled the center of the pedestal.

For a moment, he paused.

The staff was being held within the hands of a life like statue of the Monkey King. He was kneeling, eyes closed, looking almost serene. Some vines had grown around it, sprouting some kind of flower MK couldn't identify.

It looked....peaceful.

MK almost felt bad for what he was about to do.

He moved forwards, the sunlight reflecting off of his blue, glass mask, to bounce onto the staff. MK narrowed his eyes in concentration.

He gripped the staff with both hands, and pulled.

It did not budge.

MK struggled, pulling on the staff with all his might, trying to take it out of the statue's grip. Sparks started dancing along it, lightly burning his fingers, but he ignored it, trying to push through.

He had to do this. He had to prove himself to the Lady. Prove to her that he wasn't a disappointment.

He would complete this mission.

The power surrounding the staff continued to build, and MK could feel the air around him increase it's density. The hairs on his arms stood on end, the very air he was breathing feeling charged with power.

And then his mask shattered.

MK was sent flying back, forcibly skidding on the stone ground, crushing a part of the row of forget-me-nots, before tumbling into the small moat. Coughing out the small amount of water he swallowed, he slowly pulled himself up, groaning.

Bits of blood dripped down into the water.

The space underneath of both his eyes burned with the sensation of a fresh cut. Softly, he pressed a hand up to his face, feeling that the mask was gone, and pulling his hand away to stare at the blood.

He washed his hand off in the water beneath him.

Slowly standing up, he unclasped his cloak, letting it fall to the ground.

He turned to stare at where the staff still lay in the statue's grasp, almost tauntingly.

The shattered remains of his blue, glass mask, the one present the Lady had ever given him, lay underneath of it.

"Alright." He said, stepping out of the moat, and walking back over to stand in front of the staff. "If that's how it's going to be, so be it."

Planting his feet on the ground, MK wrapped his hands around the staff, gripping it stronger than before.

He took a deep breath.

And pulled.

Sparks immediately began to fly, but MK was not going to let himself loose this time. Tears stared to leak from his eyes from the effort, the salt burning the cuts underneath. Instead of the air simply growing dense, this time, gravity itself seemed to increase, pressing down on him, forcing him to kneel, in a near perfect mimicry of the statue across from him. The remains of his glass mask dug into his leg, nearly making him cry out in pain, but he refused to, biting his tongue.

He would not show weakness.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to bear the pain that ran through his arms, almost feeling like his whole body was being electrified. Refusing to back down, he pulled harder, leaning back.

The amulet he'd had as long as he could remember dangled, glinting in the fading sunlight.

Something shifted, and suddenly gravity seemed to reverse, to the point where it was almost like there was no gravity at all, droplets of blood and tears floating in the air as though time had stopped completely.

The staff slipped out of the statue's grip with ease.

And time caught up, MK tumbling back and falling onto his back from the sudden lack of resistance. He breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath as his mind attempted to process what just happened.

The staff lay, gleaming, in his hands.

"...I did it?" MK said, sitting up, staring down at the staff in shock. Then, a smile appeared on his face, euphoria filling his whole body. "Yes! I did it!"

"......did.....it......"

MK froze, the smile dropping from his face instantly as he heard a quiet and broken voice from across from him. He slowly looked over, fear flooding through him.

The statue was not a statue anymore.

Golden armor shone with the setting sun, fur rustling in the breeze, tail swinging back and forth.

A pair of golden eyes made contact with MK's own.

MK was face to face with the Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, Sun Wukong.

"You......did....it...I'm.....alive again........"

#Monkie Kid #fanfic #my writing #Forget-Me-Not AU

206 notes · View notes

mochegato · 3 years

Text

Heroic Deeds

Thanks to @boldlyanxious and @ive-fallen-down-the-rabbithole for the idea

Marinette was going to kill her roommate. Because that’s why she was in this situation in the first place, her roommate was too busy to pick up his own damn paperwork. And she was just too “nice” to say no. And puppy dog eyes should be illegal. In fact, that was the next house rule. No puppy dog eyes. She has never in her life been able to say no to puppy dog eyes and mean it. Manon, Etta, Ella, Adrien… no more! Hence forth they were banned. It was already a rule with the kwami. It would just have to be instituted as a rule with humans as well.

But until then, she had to deal with this ridiculousness. This thief that sounded like he was bored out of his mind, like she was inconveniencing him by being held hostage. Is it too much to ask for him to be more invested in this than she is? I mean, she may be the one with the gun pointed at her, but he’s the one that’s pointing it and he’s the one that broke into the office to steal whatever documents he was halfheartedly looking for during the day instead of at night when NOBODY WOULD BE THERE.

But noooo, this jackass had to do it during the day and at the exact moment when she would be there. Really, what was her luck? Was this punishment for not wearing Tikki constantly anymore? She was only supposed to be in this office for a total of a whole ninety seconds. Walk in, grab the documents that were supposed to be ready and waiting for her, and walk out. But instead she was stuck here critiquing this idiot’s ransacking skills, because that ninety seconds is exactly when this blasé thief decided to strike.

At least Kate was safe, she huffed to herself. Kate had been lucky enough to have gone to the backroom for the documents just a few seconds before Idiot Man came in. Hopefully, she had escaped through the backdoor and had contacted the police already. Because apparently Kate hadn’t pissed off the kwami of luck like Marinette somehow had. She and Tikki were going to have a very long, very hissy discussion when she got back home.

And this guy wasn’t. Even. Paying. Attention. To. Her. The gun was pointed in her general direction, but it was like she was the furthest thing from his mind, like she held the same threat level as a kitten. But that was his mistake, underestimating her, because this kitten had claws. God, she’s been hanging out with Adrien too much. She’s beginning to think like him. She let out a breath and banged her head against the back of the chair she was sitting in out of frustration and disappointment in herself.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he was ignoring her to focus on his search, but he wasn’t really paying attention to that either. She would think he was high on something if there were any other signs of it. No, this just was just bored, like he was wasting time, waiting for the police to show up. Maybe it’s the ski mask he was wearing that was annoying him. Who wears a ski mask in the summer? And… did he just check his phone! Oh, Hell no! That was the final straw.

She moved before she could overthink it, sliding over the desk she had moved behind when he came in. She plowed into his chest with both feet, catching him completely off guard and knocking him back into the filing cabinet.

“Hey, get off me!” he yelled, sounding more affronted than worried.

She twisted around and kicked the gun out of his hand with one leg, following it up with a punch that would have broken his nose if he hadn’t blocked it with his forearm, redirecting her hit. She stopped her momentum before breaking her hand on the filing cabinet. She pulled her arm back instead striking her elbow directly into his cheek.

“What the fuck!” he yelled, holding his cheek and looking up at her like she was crazy.

He reached for his gun, but she kicked his arm and raced for it herself, kicking it under a nearby cabinet. “That was my gun!” he gritted out, rounding on her. At least he finally looked invested in this.

“I noticed,” she smirked at him, delivering a roundhouse kick to the face. He dodged at the last second and shoved her leg, changing her momentum and sending her flying toward the edge of the table. She squeezed her eyes shut as she braced herself for the impact. If she timed this right, she could use the table as a springboard to go back at him. The table was solidly built from thick, heavy wood and metal. It had to weigh several hundred pounds. It would be able to take her weight without moving even a centimeter. She took a breath to prepare, but the impact was significantly softer than she had anticipated and didn’t give her the bounce back she expected, causing her to end up sprawled on the floor instead of springing back at the thief.

Before she had even registered what happened, she heard a grunt in front of her and the sound of the table scraping against the floor as it moved. She looked up to a red helmet looking back at her. Her eyes flicked down quickly to his chest as if she needed the confirmation the bright red bat there gave her. He stood up quickly, rubbing his shoulder as he approached her. He knelt down in front of her. “You okay?” His voice was considerably softer than she would have anticipated from the vigilante considered to be the most dangerous of the bats.

She stared at him for a few seconds, shocked by the tone and to see him there in the first place. She had been expecting the police not a bat. It was daytime, everyone knew they didn’t come out during the day. The bat signal didn’t work during the day. “Miss,” he tried again, his voice taking on a concerned edge.

“Oh! Yes. Yeah. I’m fine.” She nodded rapidly and reached down to rub her leg where the thief had pushed her, more to relieve anxiety than because it actually hurt.

“You’re hurt.” It was a comment, not a question.

“It’s okay, really,” she tried to assure him, but he was already up and stalking toward the thief who had started edging toward the door. Marinette mentally scoffed at his stupidity. She understood underestimating her, she was an unknown and looked tiny. But Red Hood was a known entity. His threat level was well established. Why on Earth wouldn’t the thief have run as soon as he appeared?

“Hood…” he started nervously, holding up his hands as though trying to placate him.

Whatever other argument he was going to try to make died on his lips as Hood picked him up and threw him through the large, plate glass, front window. He stood at the window for a few seconds, watching the thief run away. Satisfied with what he saw, he turned back to her. “How badly are you hurt?” He approached her slowly. He rolled his shoulder a few times, almost imperceptibly. If she hadn’t been familiar with trying to hide an injury, she might have missed it.

Marinette smiled at him. “I’m not. Are you? Did I hurt your shoulder when I slammed into you?”

“Are you sure?” He stopped a respectable distance from her. He seemed to eye her leg suspiciously, but backed off questioning it. “I mean emotionally too. An incident like that can be stressful for some people.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Please, that wasn’t stressful. That was annoying. And you didn’t answer my question. How is your shoulder?”

Red Hood paused for a few seconds watching her. “It’s fine. You weren’t afraid?”

Marinette scoffed. “No. The most stressful part of this is I’m supposed to be picking up some important documents for my roommate and I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get them now.”

“If you didn’t feel afraid of what he would do, why did you attack him? You could have provoked him into doing something he wasn’t going to do before,” he gently chided her.

Marinette let out an annoyed sigh. “You sound like my roommate.”

“Sounds like a wise man. Why didn't you listen?” He cocked his head to the side.

She mumbled something into her feet, not making eye contact with him.

He arched his head closer to her. “What was that?” She mumbled something again, slightly louder this time, but still not loud enough for him to understand what she said. “What?”

“Because he pissed me off. Okay?” she finally yelled in exasperation.

“What did he do to piss you off?” he asked carefully, because if the guy did anything to hurt her, he was going to hunt the asshole down and kill him.

“He was bored,” she growled. “He was holding me at gunpoint and acting like I was the one that forced him into the situation and it pissed me off, okay. I mean the audacity!” Red Hood fought laughing at the adorable scrunched up face she made as she talked. She waved her arms around agitatedly as she spoke. “You don't want to be here? Newsflash, asshole! Neither do I! I mean, if you’re going to threaten me, put some effort into it, you know? Am I not worth the effort?”

“You are.” Red Hood answered instantly. “I mean, you seem like you are… from what I can tell.”

“It’s just disrespectful,” she groused, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting as she leaned against the table.

“Extremely,” he agreed absently, staring at her pouting lips. “Lucky for you though. Seems like he underestimated you. I don’t even think you needed this knight in shining leather to rescue you.”

She huffed out a laugh. “I already have a knight in shining leather. Two, actually, if you count my roommate, which I do. I don’t really need another.”

He motioned like he wanted to take his helmet off but stopped himself. He positioned his arm on the table she was leaning on, supporting his weight as he leaned closer to her. “But are they heroes?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation. “I mean… to me,” she added quickly. She didn’t need anyone making any kind of a connection between her and Chat.

He seemed to contemplate her for a moment before responding. “You must be quite something to have so many knights willing to fight for you. But, maybe you can use another, after all they’re not here right now and I am. I can be your knight in shining Kevlar instead.”

She chuckled, looking down shyly. When she looked back up, it was through her eyelashes. “Yes, you are here and during the day too,” she smirked at him. “I didn’t think you guys could come out during the day. I thought sun repelled you.”

“You’re thinking of vampires.”

She pretended to study him carefully. “So you’re stating for the official record that you are not, in fact, vampires then? Just regular bats. Interesting.” She looked away nodding as if in thought. “I’ll have to let my friend know you’re refuting that theory. She runs a superhero blog. The vampire Bats theory is one of the more popular posts.”

He chuckled and she could hear the smile through his words. “We aren’t. Well, I’m not. Can’t vouch for Robin though. He’s definitely some kind of cryptid.”

Her face was starting to hurt from trying to contain her smile. She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes at him. “Although… you could be lying. After all, you are entirely covered right now… in the middle of the day… in the summer. That’s a lot of leather for a hot day. It kind of looks like you’re hiding from the sun.” She shrugged her shoulders innocently.

Red Hood stared at her a few more seconds and she was cursing the helmet for an entirely different reason than she usually did. Right now she was dying to know what kind of face he was making. Was he smirking? Was he frowning? Was he blushing? Did she make Red Hood blush! Was he enjoying the interaction or was she annoying him? He moved over to the window he had thrown the thief through earlier and stopped a few feet from it. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal his forearm and exposed it to the sun. “Happy?”

Marinette looked at his forearm for a few seconds, struck by the muscles that were so defined even in his forearms. The things that man could probably do with his hands… She walked closer and started to reach out to touch his forearm only to snap her hand back at the last second. Her cheeks blazed brightly. She cleared her throat lightly. “For now,” she nodded as casually as she could manage, looking everywhere but his eyes.

“Don’t feel shy, P… rincess,” he smirked at her. “Feel free to feel freely.”

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, as much to stop herself from reaching out to touch him as embarrassment. “Probably not a good idea to go around groping people you don’t know so….”

“So,” he started quietly, moving closer to her, “you’re saying you want to get to know me better and then you’ll grope me.” He quirked his head to the side as he took another step closer. “How well do we have to know each other for that? ‘Cuz, I’d let you do it now, so it’s all up to you.”

Marinette’s cheeks blazed a deep red. She looked away to collect herself. While this was fun and Red Hood’s body should be as illegal as his actions, she wasn’t looking to be another notch for him and considering the speed he was moving with someone he just met a few seconds ago, that’s all she would be. She took a breath and looked back up at him. “I’m saying… I should find the papers I was sent here for and get them back to my roommate.”

“Let me walk you home. Make sure the guy doesn’t come back. I can check the security of your place too to make sure you’re safe,” he offered in a tone that sounded sincere.

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Okay?” He sounded surprised at her answer. Most women must not say yes to him, which frankly she had a really hard time believing.

“To the walk, not the apartment check,” she corrected him firmly. “My apartment is safe.”

“Are you sure? I can…”

“My roommate made sure it’s safe and I trust my roommate more than I trust you,” she cut him off. “No offense.”

Red Hood was silent for a few seconds before nodding. “Okay.”

<><><><><>

Marinette laid down on the couch for a while after getting home replaying the events in her head. No matter how many times she ran through them, they still didn’t make any sense. The thief didn’t make sense. Red Hood being there during the day didn’t make sense. And Red Hood hitting on her… didn’t not make sense, but it definitely dampened the crush she had on him.

After a little while, her stomach reminded her she had planned to pick up something to eat after picking up the paperwork, which means she hadn’t eaten since the croissant she had at breakfast and it was now dinnertime. She let out a groan and forced herself up off the couch. Maybe chopping some vegetables would make her feel better anyway.

She had already started sautéing the onions when the puppy dog eyed man himself finally made it home. “That smells great, Mari. Were you able to get the paperwork?”

Marinette blinked at him a few times before narrowing her eyes and pointing the knife she was holding at him. “You’re not allowed to do puppy dog eyes anymore!”

“What? Why? I mean… I don’t… do that,” he trailed off quietly at the glare she was sending him.

“Yes, you do,” she glowered and went back to cutting vegetables for dinner a little more forcefully than she had originally.

“So what happened that was so bad?” he asked carefully. He moved to sit on the counter, but made sure to keep a fair distance between him and Marinette, or more specifically, her knife.

“The office got robbed!” she exclaimed loudly, waving the knife wildly. “While I was in it!”

He jumped down off the counter and ran to her. He grabbed her shoulders and looked her over carefully for any signs of injury. “Mari! Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

Marinette scoffed. “No. I just started trying to take him down when Red Hood interrupted.”

“Red Hood, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Yes, Red Hood,” she rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly and took the knife from her hand first. Once he was fairly safe from getting stabbed, accidentally or on purpose, he continued. “Did you flirt with him?”

“What?” Her cheeks flared brightly. What the hell! Why was he asking her that? That was not a conversation she wanted to have. It was hard enough to have normal conversations with him and his tight shirts and charming smile and piercing eyes, but him encouraging her to flirt with other people was really not a conversation she wanted to have.

“Well you… you like him, right? You said he was your favorite and he was a dilf, even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have any kids,” he said nonchalantly as he swirled the onions in the pan.

“Yeah, because he could be my daddy,” Marinette muttered to herself, but apparently not as quietly as she thought she did, judging by the choking sounds next to her.

“What!”

“What?” The smug smirk making its way across his face told her that her denial didn’t come across as innocently as she had hoped. “Shut up, Jason.”

“So he made a good impression then?” He asked somewhat awkwardly, which was bizarre for him. “You might even want to see him again?”

She smacked him in the shoulder pausing when he flinched heavily. She stared at him, studying him closely. That was where Red Hood had been nursing earlier. Red Hood, who has the same dimensions as Jason. Red Hood, who had a still healing cut on his forearm in the exact same spot as the one Jason mysteriously showed up with a few days ago. Red Hood, who knew her roommate was a he. Red Hood, who reminded her so much of Jason, which is why she liked him so much in the first place. Red Hood, who was definitely flirting with her as he rescued her while she was the only one… in Jason’s aunt’s office… after saving her from someone who, thinking back, had the same dimensions and eye color as Roy…

“Oh he made an impression,” she said absentmindedly, still staring at his shoulder.

“A… um, a good one? He did save you, right? Heroic deeds and all? Women love a hero,” Jason added casually.

Marinette stared at him for a few seconds, letting the pieces settle into place. Finally, her eyes widened in realization. “You set it up…”

Jason’s face went blank. “I… What?”

“You set it up,” Marinette repeated with more confidence. “You… Why?”

“What are you talking about?” Jason tried desperately.

She punched him hard in the shoulder. “Jesus! Fuck, Pixie. That hurt.” Jason cried out as he rubbed his aching shoulder.

“Good! What the fuck? Why would you do that? Were you trying to scare me?”

“No! I was… Because… because you liked Red Hood. I wanted you to meet him,” he said defensively. He looked away and took a breath. When he looked back, his voice was quieter, shakier. “You wanted Red Hood and… and I wanted you so…”

“You know, you could have just, I don’t know, popped up on the roof when I was there or showed up when I was walking home. You didn’t have to stage a robbery! Think about all that damage Kate has to deal with now!”

“She was remodeling anyway. She needed to demo the entire office so… two birds, you know?” He shrugged a little too casually to be casual and flipped the onions again.

“And one bat.” He rolled his eyes at her. “Or you could have just… said something”

“You weren’t interested in me. You were interested in Red Hood.”

Marinette let out a long sigh. “I was interested in Red Hood because he reminded me of you.”

His eyes widened in realization. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’. And liking him seemed less emotionally damaging than destroying my relationship with you by flirting.”

“You thought I wasn’t interested?” He looked at her incredulously. She looked down at her feet, shuffling them awkwardly, refusing to make eye contact, almost like she was afraid of what he was going to say. He couldn’t allow that to continue. He turned off the stove and walked up to her slowly, careful not to scare her, just like Red Hood had earlier that day. He gently cupped her face, softly enough that she could pull away if she wanted to. He stroked her cheeks tenderly.

When he finally spoke up again, his voice was loving and reverent. “Pix, I’m head over heels. I don’t think you even… no, I know you don’t know how much or you wouldn’t question why I tried talking to you as Red Hood instead. I love you, Pix. I love your heart and your humor and your sass and your passion… and your face. I love that too.

“And God, your smiles. I love your smile when you’re happy, which is different than your smile when you beat me at UMS, which is different than your smile when you see a little kitten, which is different than your smile when you’re thinking about home, which is different than your smile after you’ve completed a commission, which is different than your smile when I make an amazing joke that you hate. I love them all and I just want to see any of them, all of them, every day.”

He didn’t realize how close he had gotten to Marinette’s face until he realized the gasp she let out sounded like it was right next to him. She laid her hands over his wrists. “Jason…”

“And I really hope I didn’t…”

“Jason!” she interrupted. He looked at her wide eyed. She smiled reassuringly at him. “Can I kiss you?”

“Oh God, Pixie, you can’t imagine how happy that would make me,” he smiled down at her, lowering himself so his lips were close enough for her to reach.

She grinned back up at him as she pushed herself up, her lips a few millimeters from his. “Oh, I think I have an idea,” she whispered before closing the distance.

@jasonette-july-event @maribatserver

#maribat #jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #prompt - heist

186 notes · View notes

angelicmichael · 3 years

Note

my mind forgets to remind me - you're a bad idea w andy 😳👉👈

A/N: Thank u sm for sending this!! You had no idea how happy this made me to write :’) I’m sorry it took me a min tho lmao. The prompt is from Eva’s taylor swift prompt list 😌, but also - I tried to make this fluffy but there is some angst 🤐 actually a lot of angst.. I’m so sorry djdjd. The dynamic /overall relationship is very much like my other Andy fic ngl.. which I wanted to point out haha. This is also probably the most unedited thing ive ever uploaded so plz dont judge my writing too harshly 😭 Otherwise enjoy! <3

Warnings: kinda slow burn?, pining, angstt, Hedwig slander, brief conflict, some fluff hehe, friends to lovers, jealous! reader

You heard the rumors.

Andy Dolan was with Hedwig.

To be completely honest; even without the rumors it was painfully obvious how much truth those words had behind them.. You saw how they acted together. How Andy’s eyes, which were normally filled with torment, finally got some light to them whenever he looked at her; how he was so careful to never disagree with a single fucking word she said or demand she made.. happy to oblige as long as it meant she was his and wouldn’t leave him.

It made you sick.

You hated the kind of person Andy Dolan was making you become.. Seeing your best friend with someone like Hedwig, so selfish and narrow minded made you beyond pissed. But regardless; anger wasn’t the main emotion that you felt when you were with Andy. That was only a result of seeing him with someone else.. someone who wasn’t you.

Trying to deny your feelings was redundant but so was the obvious truth; that he was with Hedwig.

It was something that even though you were nearly positive was certain, you were terrified to confront him over. You were scared that you would finally be the one he would take his anger out on.. He would finally get tired of seeing you and entertaining your prescience when he had no real reason too.

After all; you knew why he commonly enjoyed the presence of Women.. and now that he was taken, you weren’t needed.

Simple as that.

Or that’s what you feared, anyway. That wasn’t actually reality.

Andy Dolan (to your surprise) invited you over for the night.. something that you really thought nothing of until you saw him.

He looked serious; something that was not uncharacteristic of him but it still kept you on edge. Perhaps because you were waiting for him to speak.. wanting desperately to know why Andy had chosen to call you and not Hedwig.

“I’m sorry for calling you over so late,” He started.

He avoided eye contact.. pacing around his room as he stood over currently one of his nightstands.. you sat on his bed - paranoia still clouding your fair judgement.

“It’s okay,” you said.. even though it really wasn’t.

You wanted him to turn around. To make eye contact with you and to tell you directly why exactly he had chosen to call you over, because that reason was starting to become painfully obvious.

“I just couldn’t sleep,” He turned around, his gaze slowly averting from the floor to meet yours. You struggled to see whether he was actually looking at you or not since the lights were off - leaving the two of you in a completely dark room.

You stayed silent for a moment - quietly calculating what you wanted to say next and how you wanted to say it.

Was it insomnia that kept him up?? Nightmares?? And why wasn’t he calling Hedwig or some other girl to help him with this issue?

Why you?

Why now?

“Andy.. since when did you ever have insomnia?” You confronted him carefully.

His eyes, which finally started to come into focus, peered up at you almost in a guilty manner.. as if you had caught him straight in a lie.

You were scared of being too direct at first. Scared that you would set him off and he would ‘force’ you to leave and that would be that.. Because even though being next to Andy was torture; being next to him like this.. in the dark, late at night with no one else around where you two could just talk.. was all that you ever wanted, as corny as it kinda sounded.

“You think I’m lying?” He bit back.

“I never said that, I just.. I don’t know why you would choose to call me instead of someone else-“

“I can’t call Hedwig for everything, (y/n). She only likes to stick around when she’s getting paid,” He says with a snort.

You bit your lip when you heard him say her name.. ‘Hedwig’. He knew exactly what you were getting at.

Fuck.

You wanted to apologize for being irrational and for jumping to conclusions but you didn’t. Apologizing felt wrong in this situation.. this wasn’t about you.

“How did you know I meant Hedwig?” You inquired wholeheartedly.

You could now make out the entire dim outline of his body as he continued to stand by his nightstand, watching you for any sudden movements or - really movement at all.

It was completely unbeknownst to you but Andy felt terrified.

Anxiety was never a feeling he was ever completely unaccustomed too; the constant burden and paranoia of everyone he ever remotely liked leaving him was a reality he had to face more than twice.. perhaps even more now if he actually followed through on his plans tonight, with you.

The paralyzing fear he felt that only grew stronger with every step he took closer to you was nearly too much.. it threatened to consume him - nearly bringing tears to his eyes just at the mere thought of you leaving and rejecting him.

He never felt more fucking ridiculous and dramatic in his life.

“Why do you care so much about Hedwig? I sure don’t, She never gave a fuck about me.. not really. After all - there’s a reason I chose to call you.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s your reason?” You challenged.

You expected for him to recite some bullshit he didn’t really mean. Something to make the two of you feel a bit better about the current predicament you were in but, his next words were sweeter and softer than anything you were willing to anticipate.

Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly approached you. He was realistically only a few steps away but every step he took seemed to take a eternity.. like he couldn’t possibly get to you soon enough while simultaneously being too far away.

His steps continued until his feet bumped into yours - his sock covered feet accidentally bumping into your shoes.

Suddenly confused at the sudden accident.. you tilted your head up unexpectedly, before catching his gaze only briefly before you did the unthinkable.. pressing your lips to his in something that was just short of a rational decision.

You waited at first for him to pull away - scared to let yourself become fully swept away by the moment but.. it happened anyway.

Andy’s hands quickly touched your back as his lips started to move slowly and sweetly against yours. Seemingly savoring every moment he now had with you; one that perhaps he thought too, would never get a chance to experience.

You pulled away just before you felt him try to deepen the kiss even further. Only to take a deep, steady breath before leaning in once more. Not letting your brain necessarily control your movements anymore but rather letting your heart take over instead.

Taglist: @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakescoven @dark-mei-rose @9layerdevilfoodcake @prophecy-is-inevitable @matildaofoz @beautyiswithinchaos @frenchlangdon @instinctsxbaby @melodylangdon @littledemondani @celestialrequiem @sojournmichael @ritualmichael @twilightzone24 @glamourouslife99

Let me know if you wanna be added or removed to the taglist! :)

#Andy x reader #Andy Dolan x reader #andy dolan fanfiction #Andy Dolan #cody fern fanfiction #asks #sojournmichael #my fic #reading this back is so funny bc I tried so hard to make this fluffy but-#it’s basically full angst 😭 sorry lmao #but I hope you like this Eva 🥺👉🏻👈🏻#sorry again it’s so late lol #will crosspost to ao3 in the near future lol

69 notes · View notes

yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years

Text

COSMIC - S1:E6; Chapter Six, The Monster - [Pt. 1]

A Will Byers x Male!Reader Series

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘠/𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘌𝘭𝘴𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘑𝘰𝘺𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘣’𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

|| 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Joyce and Hopper sat opposite one another at the kitchen table of the Byers' home. The house was cold and hardly lit, copies of newspaper clippings scattered all around the house. One of the only light sources was a dusty chandelier that hung from the kitchen ceiling above the table and their heads, illuminating the several papers.

"Look, we gotta go through this again." Joyce insisted.

"I told you everything that I saw."

"Oh, gosh," she sighs into her hands. "Tell me again."

"Upstairs or downstairs?" Hopper asked.

"Upstairs."

"There was a laboratory. It was where they must do experiments or something, and then there was... well you see, like I said, I got turned around."

Hopper was currently sharing all he had encountered on his rogue mission at Hawkins National Laboratory. Joyce, all the while was hanging on his every word.

"I told you, it was like, I don't know, it wasn't supposed to exist. That whole area, it was abandoned and... forgotten, like it was all some big mistake. Once I found my way back, I saw that... kid's room. That other kid's room, I mean. Like it was actually used, but it didn't even look like a kid's room, neither of them did. It looked like a prison."

Hopper sighed and rubbed the bottom of his palms into his eyes tiredly, is fingers held the lit cigarette inches away from his face as he did so. "If that even makes sense,"

"Well," Joyce began, trying to get to the bottom of this never ending mystery. "So why would you think it was a kid's room, then?"

"Because, I told you, the size of the bed, there was a drawing, there was a stuffed animal--"

Joyce interrupted the man quickly. "Y-You didn't say there was a drawing."

"Yeah, there was a drawing of a... an adult and a child. It said 'Eleven' on it."

"Was it good?" Joyce pressed.

"It was a kid's drawing, Joyce. It was stick figures."

Joyce had a knowing look on her face as she stood up with a sigh, retrieving a piece of crinkled line paper and slammed it down on the table for Hopper to see.

She pointed to the detailed drawing as she sat back down.

"Wasn't Will." She stated confidently, shakily bringing the cigarette back up to her lips.

Hopper examined the drawing and everything seemed to click. He returned his gaze to the anxious mother. Hopper quickly put out his cigarette in the ashtray and made a beeline for the coffee table.

"Earl..." he muttered, as he made his way into the living room. Joyce, who had abandoned her cigarette, was right on his heels.

"The night that Benny died, Earl said he saw some kid with a shaved head with Benny," Hopper and Joyce took a seat beside one another on the living room couch, Hopper's eyes fixed on the several news clippings splayed along the wooden coffee table. "Now, I pressed him, he said it might be Will, but maybe..."

The man began shifting through the papers, and Joyce spoke up.

"Wait... Maybe, it wasn't?"

Hopper pulled the article he had been looking for and pointed to the fuzzy photograph of the woman in the article.

"Look... this woman, Terry Ives, she claims to have lost her daughter, Jane. She sued Brenner, she sued the government... Now, the claims came to nothing, but what if... I mean, what if this whole time I've been... I've been looking for Will... I've been chasing after some other kid?"

|| 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ||

Everything is a mess.

Will is still missing, the party is falling apart, Mike and Lucas are still angsty messes that won't speak to one another, and now, El left us. She probably thinks I hate her.

'But I don't! I was just scared'

(Ok but like,,,, who else ships El and reader cause damn I've been giving myself feels lately, dang)

'We need to fix this'

I sigh and sit up from my bed and make my my way to Dustin's room.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"I just... I can't believe she didn't come back." Mike sighed.

Dustin and I agreed we needed to talk some sense into the rest of the party. So we got our bikes and made our way to Mike's. Dustin was standing opposite Mike while I currently occupied one of the D&D chairs I had pulled up. Mike was worriedly pacing the floor in front of us.

"She's gotta be close." Dustin offered.

"She said it wasn't safe. She just messed up the compasses because she wanted to protect us. She didn't betray us."

"Mike, calm down."

Mike only ignored Dustin and kept talking, more to himself than anybody it seemed.

"I shouldn't have yelled at her. I never should've done that."

"Mike, this isn't your fault." Dustin said.

"Yeah, it's Lucas'."

"It wasn't his fault, either." Dustin countered softly.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Mike stopped in his tracks. He looked at my brother dumbfounded and took a few steps in his direction. "It wasn't his fault?"

"No."

"So you're saying he wasn't way out of line?"

"Totally, but so were you!"

"What?"

"And so was Eleven."

"That's ridiculous! Y/n, tell him he's being ridiculous!"

Very calmly, I stood up with my arms crossed and stood next to my brother, and sighed, eyes fixed on Mike. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but Dustin is absolutely right."

Mike seemed even more furious. "Oh, give me a break!"

Dustin snapped at these words and stormed up to Mike. "No, Mike, you give me a break! All three of you were being a bunch of little assholes! Y/n and I were the only reasonable ones! But the bottom line is... you pushed first. And you know the rules. You draw first blood..."

"No! No way! I'm not shaking his hand."

"You're shaking his hand." I press, stepping forward.

He was sure to make eye contact with me over Dustin's shoulder as he spoke. "No, I'm not."

So I strode toward him and gave him a slight glare.

"This isn't a discussion. This is the rule of law. Obey or be banished from the party. Do you wanna be banished?" I asked firmly.

Mike crossed his arms and pouted before speaking up meekly. "No."

"Good!" I chirp, my face beaming as if we hadn't just been fighting which seem to only terrify him more.

I all but skipped over to the chair grabbing my coat, Dustin following my actions.

"Where are we going?" Mike asked with a hint of frustration.

"Where do you think?" Dustin asked as he put his arms through the sleeves of his coat.

"We're going to get Lucas." I finished, straightening my jacket then looked back to Mike.

My face softened and I tilted my head slightly. "And then we're gonna find Eleven."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The three of us stood on Lucas's porch and I rang the doorbell. We stood waiting until the door swung open and Lucas stood there glaring at all three of us, but mostly Mike.

"What do you want?" He spit, resting his hands in his pockets.

There was brief silence which was then interrupted by a muffled smack of Dustin hitting Mike in the arm.

Mike sighed softly and looked to Lucas, clearly hating every second of this.

"I drew first blood, so..." he extended his hand for Lucas to shake but Lucas didn't move.

Great. Of course nobody was going to make anything easy. Why would they?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Somehow I had convinced Lucas to let us all in and now, we all stood in the middle of his living room as he paced silently across the floor considering Mike's offer. He finally stopped and stared at the three of us.

"Okay, I'll shake."

Mike sighed what I barely made out to be a "finally" as he extended his arm out once more. Dustin and I perked up, that was until Lucas continued.

"On one condition. We forget the weirdo and go straight to the gate." He finished, arms crossed defiant.

"Then the deal's off." Mike barked.

"Fine!"

"No, no, not fine! Guys seriously?" Dustin yelled, as I threw my head back frustrated.

Dustin forced Mike to face him as he spoke. "Do you even remember what happened on the Bloodstone Pass?"

Lucas and Mike shared a confused glance.

Dustin seemed shocked and offended that they had no recollection and continued.

"We couldn't agree on what path to take, so we all split up the party and those trolls took us out one by one. And it all went to shit. And we were all disabled! So we stick together, no matter what!"

"Yeah, I agree. But this is the party, right here in this room."

"El is one of us now."

"Um, no, she's not. Not even close! Never will be. She's a liar, a traitor--"

"She was just trying to keep us safe! She didn't mean to hurt you. It was an accident!"

"An accident?"

"All right, accident or not... admit it, it was a little awesome." Dustin said.

"Awesome?"

"Yeah, she threw you in the air with her mind!"

"I could have been killed!"

"Would everybody just shut up for one second, please!" I snap.

Everybody looks to me, a shocked expression on their faces.

I step forward and begin my long awaited rant.

"I am sick of your attitude." I point at Lucas. "I am sick of your whining." I point to Mike. "I am sick of all three of you bickering," I gesture to all of them. "I love you guys and I can't thank you enough for taking me in and including me, know that, but GOD I am tired of being stuck listening to you boys argue about every little thing!"

I myself began pacing, my voice continuously rising. "I'm sick of putting up with all your petty arguing when we should be looking for Will only to come home at the end of the day, having found NOTHING and crying my eyes out because the only person who never gave a shit about who started what is missing and probably dead!"

I stopped pacing and looked to the boys who were all silent. I sighed and lowered my voice. "Lucas, you're right. You could have been killed. Which is exactly why we need her. She is more powerful than all of us combined."

"Y/n's right. Do you seriously wanna fight the Demogorgon with your wrist rocket?" Mike said, anger still in his voice. "That's like R2-D2 going to fight Darth Vader. We're no use to Will if we're dead."

Lucas looked torn for a moment, but then he shook his head and pointed at the three of us. There was disappointment in his voice. "If you three wanna waste your time looking for a traitor, go ahead, 'cause I'm not spending my time on her anymore. No way!"

I sighed, putting my face in my hands. Lucas continued.

"I'm going to the gate. I'm going to find Will."

Lucas shoved the boys aside and stormed off, leaving the three of us alone in more ways than one.

63 notes · View notes

chiliiscereal · 3 years

Text

I hate you

Daryl’s adopted daughter

Chapter 1

Summary: Diana is a girl on the run in the apocalypse. Her past chases her no matter where she goes. One day, by chance, she meets Daryl Dixon. Thinking she’s a walker, he shoots her and brings her back to their camp. Shane strikes a deal with her: she has to stay for two weeks before she can decide if she wants to stay. But Diana is determined to keep her past in the past, and never make the same mistake again

Season 1 - I’m not sure yet

—————

Diana sat in a circle with her family. Blood dripped down her neck from her lips.

Everything was red.

Red

How could everything have gone so wrong so quickly?

Her eyes never left the blond man she once knew. She watched him as her fury and fear grew louder and louder, echoing off her skull.

That was, until Negan stepped out of the van. He walked about the circle, until his eyes landed on her.

"Fancy seein' you again, Darlin'."

————————

Rick stumbled into the street, a hospital gown draping his skin. He knew there was something wrong. There was something off. Maybe it was intuition...

Or maybe it was the woman, chopped in half, chomping her teeth to get at his ankles.

He rubbed his eyes, the sun glaring right into his vision. It had been a week and a half since the start, and a day since his IV ran dry. It had been even longer since he last saw the sun.

Where was everyone?

Why hadn't he waken up to nurses and doctors?

Or his family's familiar faces?

He spotted bodies. Bodies walking. Maybe three.

He couldn't understand... he couldn't understand any of it...

The light off a gun reflected into his eyes. He blocked it and moved to see where it was coming from.

The revolver was placed in the holster on the side of a walker. The man... or whatever he was now... shuffled toward Rick.

He was deathly pale.

"Sir," Rick's voice cracked, "sir, are you okay?" He held his hand out, trying to make it a comforting gesture to someone possibly in need.

Edging closer, the man stared at him with hungry dead eyes. His clothes were torn and draped off his skinny frame, his eyes laid sunken in his face.

"Sir?" He asked again, stumbling back.

The man growled and advanced further.

"Are you-?"

With a blur, the man was down.

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Rick let out a horrified gasp.

On the ground was a little girl, around Carl's age, placing her knife in the mans forehead. Her light blond hair, tucked under her baseball cap, clung to her dirty face. The crunch echoed in Ricks head, reverberating off his skull.

That was the first walker he had ever seen killed.

She quickly wiped her knife on the walkers shirt and snatched his revolver. She opened the back to check how much ammo was left. Satisfied, she clicked it shut and began patting the double dead man down.

"W-why did you do that?" Rick found his voice again.

She leaped back, her bright blue eyes finding his.

Quickly, she pulled herself up and began to dash away. If Rick hadn't lunged out and caught the back of her shirt she would have disappeared as soon as she apparated into his line of sight.

"No. You can't leave yet." He spun her around to face him. It was evident how terrified she was. Especially with her eyes as wide as dinner plates and hands clawing at his arm. "Why did you kill that man?"

She glared at him and wriggled harder. "Man?" She gasped, "that... that wasn't a man!" Her hands fought to unclamp Ricks grip. "That's a Walker! He would have eaten you if I hadn't stopped him!" She grunted with effort. "Didn't even see you. You already look dead."

"What do you mean by dead?" Rick questioned, holding tighter.

"Gone. Deceased. vamosed. Perished." With each word she struggled. "Now let me go!"

Rick was about to question again, when he felt the stitches on his side rip. With a grunt, he let her go and fell to the ground. His hand cupped his side.

"Please.." he stopped to breathe heavily as the girl watched him warily. "I don't know what's happening. I woke up in the- in the hospital." He glanced down at his side to eye the bleeding. "The sun will be setting soon... and I need help."

The girl glanced at the lowering sun. Tapping her foot, she glowered at the ground. "How can I trust you." It wasn't a question. It was as if she was challenging him to be wrong.

Rick attempted to stand, only to find himself back in the ground. "I was a cop. My job was to protect the people. ALL people. And I like to think I did a good job of that."

She stuck the revolver in her holster (which was clearly stolen based on how big it was). "Prove it."

"I don't have my badge or my hat. That's at my house. But I'm officer Rick Grimes. I've been on the force for seven years. My partner was Shane Walsh. I was in my car when we got a call about a run away car. I was shot in action and hospitalized." His eyes seemed to beg her to help him.

Diana tried to fight the raging war in her head.

She knew better.

She knew to trust no one.

Her father and mother both betrayed her trust.

Why trust again?

But... she could tell when people were lying. All people have tells. Her fathers tell was him avoiding eye contact. He always looked at the ground. For her mother, she always played with her wedding ring.

But this Cop... sheriff... man... was not lying.

He looked her dead in the eye.

"Fine. Come with me." She hadn't known that she was gripping her new revolver until she released it. "I have a place in the sewers. I know... in most movies that's where walkers would be. But how would someone get down there in the first place? You'd have to move the lid." She walked over to Rick and slung his arm over her shoulder to help him stand in any way. "And most walkers," she grunted "are pretty stupid."

"Thank you...for helping me." Rick stated gratefully.

"I have some house rules, you know."

"Name them." He said confidently as they shuffled down the street.

"One: you're gone when you can walk."

"You don't want someone to watch your back?" Rick was surprised. Usually, kids jumped at the chance for safety. The ones he has worked with in cases of violence had immediately decided he was trustworthy.

"the worlds changed. You can't trust people." He noted the grim expression on her face. He wanted to ask why, but he figured it was better to stay silent.

"I'd argue about that, but I'll hear out your other rules." He wrapped his arm around his side again, fingering the broken stitches.

"Two: you do as I say or you die."

"Yes ma'am."

Rick couldn't help but like her spunk. She was serious, but it wasn't much of a threat coming from an eleven year old girl.

"3: ..." she started only to trail off.

"...3?"

She cleared her throat and resituated Ricks arm. "You repay my kindness if we ever cross paths again. I don't care how."

"Was already planning on it." He grinned. He could feel the conversation beginning to die, so he started it back up again. "What's your name, kid?"

She hesitated, eyes staying on the road. "Diana." She spoke softly. "My mother named me after the Roman goddess of the night."

Rick smiled. "Pretty name."

Diana's thoughts drifted to her mother. Her mother with her honey brown hair and warm chocolate eyes. She stopped her thoughts there. "Well... what about you, officer friendly? You got a name?"

Rick laughed. "My names Rick Grimes. I ain't named after the moon goddess, but I think it has a nice ring to it. Don't you?"

She forced down a smile. "Pretty name."

He chuckled. "Well, Diana, I am glad I ran into you."

~~~~~

They arrived at the sewer lid.

"Here we are. I've been camped out here since early yesterday morning." She slipped under Ricks arm and got down to lift the lid. With a couple tries, and an offer from Rick for assistance, she lifted the lid.

She stood up and dusted off her hands. "I'll go down first and scope out the area. Need to make sure it's still clear. Then I'll help you down."

She began her descent.

Rick watched the top of her light haired head fade into the darkness with each step. He briefly thought she would try and make a run for it. Escape through the sewers.

He immediately dismissed it. Why would she waste daylight by helping him? The sound of her footsteps hitting the water at the bottom and echoing as she walked down the tunnels set him on edge.

Especially when they began to fade.

He sat patiently for over ten minutes, watching the sunlight tick by. He looked down into the darkness, listening for any sound. There was nothing... not even a whisper.

Maybe she did leave.

"Alright, Sheriff, get down here! It's clear!" Her voice reverberated loudly from the tunnels so suddenly, that Rick stumbled back.

"I don't have all day! Unless you wanted to be walker chow, get down here!"

Rick chuckled as he began to shuffle his way down the tunnel.

"Any day now, Deputy Fossil!" She shouted.

"Hold your horses, kid." He slowly lowered himself into the dark. He looked down to see where his feet were going to land, spotting the flashlight that Diana held. Her light hazel eyes reflected impatience.

"Nice place." He said, clearly biting back his truth.

"Don't be fake." She said as she kicked at the water. "It smells like a pig ate dirty gym socks, farted, and died."

"I was trying to spare your feelings."

"Don't bother. I'm leaving this place as soon as you're ready."

Rick finally landed on the bottom of the sewer. "You got a place you're headed to?"

Diana shook her head. "No. Just a place I never want to see again."

Rick stopped moving to look at her. "Troubled home life?"

She thought about it and shrugged. "I guess you could call it troubled home life. It was home once. But this apocalypse changes people."

"I'm sorry kid."

"Don't be. That's just life."

Rick opened his mouth to say more, but Diana beat him to it.

"Alright, lets move." She motioned for him to follow.

The place she had holed up in was dryer than most spaces. There were a couple of dirty blankets placed on the ground and a first aid kit. Some batteries were sprinkled on top.

"You can sit there. I can stitch you back up." Diana pointed at the wall. Their part of the sewer was a dead end so they wouldn't be surprised.

"Thank you."

Diana hadn't stitched wounds before, but she did well enough.

Rick tried starting a conversation again but she told him she needed silence to focus.

~~~~

"Are you sure you want to travel by yourself?"

Diana nodded as she packed her things. "Very sure. You're nice and all, but you don't want to travel with me."

The Georgia sun had risen already and they both were preparing for departure in the street

"Do you have any family to find?" Rick questioned.

"I already know where they are. And they don't want me either." The girl looked down, avoiding eye contact.

"If we ever meet again, you better give me more details." Rick narrowed his eyes and pointed at her. "I deserve to know more about the little girl who saved me."

"Once a cop always a cop I guess." Diana said slyly. She looked back at him. "What about you? Any family?"

She eyed a walker down the street but decided it was too far away to pursue.

"I got a son and a wife. My son's your age actually. 11." Rick looked through the neighborhoods. "I don't know where they are, but I'll protect them. They need me."

Diana squinted in the direction he was looking at, seeing nothing. "You'll find them, chief." She patted his shoulder, having to reach up very high.

"It was nice to meet you, Diana." Rick said, a little sad that they were parting. Possibly that he would no longer have company. Maybe that he didn't have enough time to get to know her well. "I don't know if I'll see you again, but you helped me without anything to gain."

Diana scoffed. "I'm not a good kid."

"You're right."

Diana looked up, confused.

"You're one of the best."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Go. You have people to find."

"From the looks of thangs, so do you."

"I don't have people."

"You'll find them. Just a matter of where and when." He stuck his hand out for her to shake.

She placed a brown bag in his hand instead. "It's for the road. There's batteries, water, a flashlight, food, bandages, antibiotics, and one more thing..." she unbuckled her holster and handed it to him, along with the revolver. "You need these more than I do."

Rick tried to push it back to the little girl. "No I can't take this. You need it."

"No, you do. You're gonna help people, Rick. You're gonna help so many. You gotta find your people." She pushed it back to him. "I'm gonna be fine. I spotted a gun down the road that I'm gonna check out later."

Rick gave her a solemn look before accepting it. "If you can, head to Atlanta. The CDC is near there and there's bound to be survivors."

"I don't need survivors."she rolled her eyes.

"They may need you, kid. Ever think about that?"

She stayed silent for a moment. "Stay safe, sherif fun sponge." She shook his hand, even though he hadn't offered it yet. "I hope we meet again."

"We will." He smiled. "I don't know how or when, but we will. I have a debt to pay."

She wanted to return the smile but couldn't. "I hope you find them."

"You to."

With that, they went separate ways.

Next fifty chapters posted on noandisaidno on wattpad!

#for you #bookish #disney #digital art #small artist #tik tok #tik tok art #wattpad #fanfic #percy jackson #twd imagine #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd negan #twd #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon x daughter!reader

161 notes · View notes

baguettehead · 3 years

Text

Quarry days

Stan Uris x they/them reader

warnings: some curse words, richie tozer, lil bit of angst, possibly based off of real situations, lil bit of Reddie ;)

Summary: You’ve always had a thing for the brown eyes and mop of curly hair, the voice that made you melt like a Popsicle, but what if you added in scheming friends, darkness, missing gas, and maybe a turtle.

_____________________________________________________

You had known the losers since 6th grade. That was the year your parents decided to make the move from Michigan to Derry, Main. You moved around a lot, and you weren’t even an army brat, your parents just seemed to enjoy hopping from place to place. Your parents owned their own business, all the work was mostly online so it was pretty easy to just up and leave. You were born in Washington state, lived their for a while, then you lived in California for a few years, Colorado for a singular year, Michigan, and now the shithole that is Derry, Maine.

You had no idea why your parents chose Derry, there really wasn’t much here. A few nice shops, a pretty decent arcade, old people with sticks up their butts, and what you thought to be a normal group of neighborhood bullies.

When you moved to Derry you had no one, and at this point you didn’t care enough to try and make friends, you didn’t know if you were staying long. After an tantalizingly long day of being forcefully introduced to classmates and eating lunch alone, in the library, you honestly just wanted a nap.

Leaving the school you were suddenly pushed into the wall next to you, your bag thrown off your shoulder, and coming face to face with the wonderful scent of vodka and utter shit. Must be Bowers. He held you by the shoulder of your shirt with his right hand and with his left he put his forearm on your neck, effectively trapping you to the wall

This was your first encounter with the infamous gang, but you’d heard about them from the few conversations you’d had with kids in classes and passing periods. Let’s just say, he was as disgusting as you’d heard. Has he ever tried a toothbrush before??

“Look at this” he spoke, looking back to his gang of douchbags “Fresh meat” his goons laughed a little while you just rolled your eyes, you’d dealt with your fare share of bullies and asshats that you simply couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore

“look” you said in an exasperated sigh “i don’t have cash, my mom packs my lunch”

“well then” Bowers said “you’ll just have to pay me in another way darling” a disgusting grin overtook his face and his goons began laugh and cheer like they just took a shit on the toilet for the first time

“i’m good” you spoke calmly as you attempted to leave his grasp. Bowers just stared down at you confused for a second before he snapped back into action and held you a little tighter

“it wasn’t a question” he seethed through closed teeth

“and i wasn’t giving a suggestion dipshit”

Henry’s jaw tightened and you could practically see the anger bubbling inside him while his group of misfit toys got real quite

“now listen here you little bit-”

“no you listen asshole” you cut him off “i don’t have time to deal with insecure little boys who didn’t get mommy’s attention as a child and now take it out on all those around him” you spoke quickly faking a pout and slowly worming your way out of his grip “your just some stuck up prick who relishes in the hurt of others because you are so hurt that your deranged little brain finds pleasure making other miserable so that you can fake happiness. News flash, hurting others won’t make you happy, you’ll always be an attention deprived, whiny ass child who probably won’t live past their 30′s, will definitely have a substance abuse issue, and even as a 15 year old attempts to drown his sorrows in vodka and punching kids smaller than him for fun” you finished your little rant, taking in a short breath “now” you continued, marveling at the befuddled looks on all their faces “i have a can of pepper spray in my back pocket and if one of you little rascal looking ass children comes any closer i’ll mace you in the face. Got it”

As soon as you finished you slipped from his grasp and starting running like hell towards your house. You could hear him screaming profanities, and you knew you were now on his hit list, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to give a shit.

Once you knew you were far enough, you knew he wouldn’t follow you but didn’t want to risk it, you sat on the curb to catch your breath. Almost immediately you saw 4 bikes coming around the corner, the occupants stopping in front of you and throwing their bikes down.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT THAT WAS INCREDIBLE” the one with coke bottle glasses screamed at you practically screamed at you, you returned a weak smile

“H-h-he’s gonna f-f-fu-fucking kill you” another rushed out

You shrugged your shoulders ��ive got a at least a few days” you told them “i wounded his masculinity, gotta build that back up” you muttered

“I can’t believe you did that” the one with the fanny pack stated as he started to pace in front of you “i mean, now bowers and his whole gang are gonna be on your ass” he stopped in front of you and made direct eye contact “your gonna have to watch for him at all times” he deadpanned and you grimaced a little bit

“don’t worry” coke bottle glasses spoke up again “bowers is always on our asses so we can show you the best place to avoid him”

“a-and the hallways to a-a-avoid h-him” the dirty blonde spoke up

you smiled up at them “i’d actually quite like that”

“Then welcome to the losers club y/n” the forth boy spoke up as he held his hand out for you, the one with curly hair and amazing eyes. You had him in two of classes and he always seems to catch your eye. You took his hand and he helped you off the curb before they gave you their unofficial, official, tour of the town.

After that you were practically glued to the four boys, you did everything with them now. And if it wasn’t all of them, you were with at east one practically at all times.

You told them about your moving adventures, even opening up about your constant fear that your parents are gonna pack up and leave forcing you to leave them, and earning Richie’s nickname for you Cali. For some reason Richie couldn’t seem to let go of the fact that you lived in California, asking questions about it whenever there was downtime, and telling you about his dream of living there one day and making it big. You always told him that he could do it, because you truly believed he could.

Soon Bev, Mike, and Ben joined the group, making it 8. You gained your ‘secret’ clubhouse, and Bill, Mike, Stan, and Richie all got their licences.

Now its junior year, you’ve made it almost 5 years in Derry, and you’ve gained the closed friends you’ve ever had

_________________________________________________

“You guys wanna go to the quarry after school?” Richie asked, his mouth half full of turkey sandwich and pretty much yelling over all the noise in the cafeteria. You shuddered and watched as Eddie slapped his shoulder and scolded him for talking with his mouth open, Rich pouting like a child. You loved watching them, a knowing smile on your face.

“sounds like fun” Bev voiced “y/n and i just went swimsuit shopping and they looked killer in their suit” she smirked at you from down the table while you blushed and rolled your eyes

“i mean i’d prefer to see the suit on the floor but whatever your comfortable with” Richie commented

you threw a baby carrot at his face, which he caught in his mouth promoting cheers from the others and for you to dissolve into laughter

“i is s-s-s-supposed to be like n-n-ninety degrees today” Bill added in

“oh fuck that” you groaned as you lent your head on stand shoulder next you and continued munching on your carrots, missing how he smiled down at you

“quarry it is!” Richie exclaimed before everyone else fell back into their conversations

“sooooo” you heard Stan draw out from above you, moving your head to look up at him but leaving it resting on his shoulder “will i get to see this new suit you apparently look amazing in?” he questioned while wiggling his eyebrows in a suggestive way. You simply laughed, shoving his shoulder and telling him to shut up.

You’ve had a crush on Stan since 7th grade. You always thought he was attractive, like REALLY attractive, but after getting to know him and spending time together you knew you were fucked.

Bev has tried convincing you that he likes you back but, something in your brain just can’t accept it. She’s gone on and on about how ‘different’ he acts around you, how hes “not such a stuck up prick, he like, actually kinda nice and soft”, her words exactly. But, that was just the Stan you knew, the one you always saw. Caring, kind, funny, and enjoyable.

Bill drove you and Bev to her house, where your suits where from the last time you slept over like 4 days ago, and then took you both to the quarry. Once you got there you saw all the other cars and heard splashing and screaming.

“Those assholes went without us” Bev cried as she ripped the car door open, bolting for the cliff and immediately jumping off. You and Bill just laughed and sat there for a moment.

“r-ready m’lady?” Bill asked as he left the car and extended a hand for you

laughing, you took his hand “Of course good sir”

Bill was already in his trunks so after the short walk up the hill he plunged into the water , full cannonball, soaking almost everyone except Mike who swam out of the way. You watched from the top, laughing as they splashed each other back and forth. Sometimes it was nice to just watch their antics and relish in the moment.

“you coming sweet cheeks” Richie yelled up to effectively drawing every ones attention you

You blushed at the sudden attention “Whatever Tozier” you yelled back before you began stripping down to your swim suit.

Unbeknownst to you at the top of the cliff, you had some effect on poor Stan down in the water. He sat with his eyes glued to you as you exposed more and more skin. He’s seen you in a swimsuit before, hell he’s even seen you in your panties, but every time it still manages to make his mouth go dry and eyes widen.

“They’ll catch you drooling if you stare too long” Richie quipped with a smirk

“Shut it Tozier” he murmured lowering into the water to hide his blush right as you jumped from the cliff.

The eight of you spent hours in the water. Chicken fights, splash wars, and Richie attempting to dunk you, Bill even found a turtle which he claimed meant good luck. You only got out of the water for a bit to dry off before leaving. You and Bev lie on the rocks to dry off and maybe tan, that was, before Mike carried a bucket of water over and splashed you both with started yet another splash war. You finally got out when the sun started to set. You sat around and talked, told stories, before you had to leave. You were all still pretty wet but you didn’t care.

Stan had offered you a ride earlier and you happily agreed, knowing you’d get some alone time with him and ice cream if you begged hard enough.

You layed back on the rocks, to watch the sunset and see the stars starting to pop out.

“alright were heading out” Richie suddenly said

Mike had already left, taking Ben with him due to their stricter curfews. But Rich was taking Eddie and Bill Bev.

“What, why?” Stan said, narrowing his eyes as if he knew they were plotting something

“j-just tired is all” Bill replied casually before he began walking to his car

“bye” Eddie chimed in

“Bye Edds!” you called back

“wait why can she call you that” Rich argued walking side by side with Eddie

“cause i actually like them” He replied casually with a shrug

Richie just huffed and pouted like a child before Eddie nudged his shoulder and he was all smiley again

“See you at school” Bev called, sending a wink in your direction which you replied to with an eye roll

As they walked towards their cars and began to drive away Stan turned towards you “That was suspicious right?”

“completely” you replied climbing down from the rock you previously lied on

“Okay good, it wasn’t just me” he said with a sigh

You laughed a bit “But when are they not suspicious?”

“You got me there” he said before he leaned back on the rock behind him

You crawled over to sit next to him, laying your head on his shoulder and just admiring the sunset. You both sat like that for a while, surrounded by comfortable silence.

One thing about Derry was that no matter how hot the days were the nights seemed to always be freezing, accompanied by wind. You crossed your arms over yourself in hopes of generating more body heat.

“Are you cold” Stan asked taking notice of your shivering form

“Just a bit” you answered not wanting to ruin the comfortable bubble you’d found yourselves in

“i have a blanket in my car” he started to stand up only for you to groan and cling on to his arm. Laughing, he sat back down and you cuddled into his side.

“you’ll catch a cold babe come on” you blushed at the pet name and melted even further into his side when he started combing through your hair with his fingers. Noticing that you weren’t going to budge he huffed a bit, though, he didn’t want to move either.

“I’ll get you ice cream” he sighed

You bounced up with a goofy grin on your face, pulling his hand towards the car

“Lets not waste time” you started “i’m in critical condition, need creamed ice immediately” you feigned sick with a hand to your forehead and pouty eyes. He only laughed, getting up and heading to the car, his hand never leaving yours as you walked to the car.

“what the fuck” he muttered as you reached the car

Tucked under the windshield wiper of his car was a note that said ‘use protection’, clearly in Richies handwriting, and a roll of condoms

You blushed lightly, giggling a bit. Stan looked to with a puzzled expression on his face “i don’t know” you shrugged trying to prove your innocence.

“I don’t understand half the things he does” you comment as you climb into the passengers seat

“does anyone?” he questions with a laugh

Stan throws the note and condoms into the center console before starting up the car. Your bouncing in your seat, the anticipation of ice cream making you giddy and Stan laughs at that. Well, the car doesn’t start. Stan tried multiple times, clearly getting frustrated

“uh Stan” you try and grab his attention, it works, anytime you talk Stan always has his full attention on you. You point towards the gas meter, which displays empty.

“I literally got fucking gas on the way here what the fuck” he exclaims as he gets out of the car, you follow. You see him stop and stare at the gas tank opening

“what?” you question before reaching the other side of the car and falling silent

Right below the gas tank, on the ground, lays a rubber pipe.

“Did they fucking siphon my gas?!” He yells

You stand there for a moment longer, staring at the gas lined pipe, before you break out into hysterical laughter. The pure kind that comes from the belly and leaves you gasping for air with side cramps

“its not funny” he yells

you try to talk but it just dissolves into more hysterics and soon enough Stan is laughing with you, your laugh is just contagious and your radiant smile that could light up the entire galaxy never fail to make him follow along.

After you both calm down, clutching your bellies, you break the silence

“so, what do we do now?” you look over to Stan who’s sitting next to you on the curb

“i guess i’ll call Rich and have him come pick us up” you nod

He stands up, pulling out his phone and calling Rich. You sort of zone out, guess you were more tired than you thought, but your brought back to earth by Stan yelling into the phone. All you could catch was

“what?! No! Hey no no no” and “Fucking asshole” as he ended the call. You new what was coming but you asked anyways

“so?”

“He said hes not coming” Stan sighed in defeat as he sat next to you and lied his head on your shoulder. Your hand immediately immersed itself in his hair, gently scratching his scalp and brushing through his curls. You sighed wondering how the fuck you were gonna get out of this one.

“what about Mike and Bill?” you questioned

“in on it” he sighed out and you hummed in response. You both sat there for a moment, in comfortable silence, trying to calm Stan down.

“did he say anything els-”

“do you like me?” Stan’s head rose from your shoulder, looking you in the eyes and cutting off your sentence. You felt your mouth go dry, eyes widening, cheeks getting hot and probably bright red.

“i- uh- well” you stuttered out, really having no clue how to answer that question

“I mean” he started, sighing and nervously running a hand through his head of wild curls “not in a …. friends way” he finished slowly, meeting your eyes

He had a blush of his own covering his cheeks and his marvelous brown eyes danced all over your face as if looking for the answer there. You sat there staring at him for what felt like forever, running over your choices. Just as the though of running away and joining the circus came into your mind you felt a surge of confidence and smashed your lips into his.

He tasted like mint, salt, and something you could only describe as Stan.

Your lips moved together perfectly, dancing around each other in the best dance you’d ever preformed. Teeth hitting teeth as the years of desperation and pining were finally put to a rest. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you into his lap to straddle him, as yours wound around his neck and wove into his hair.

You both pulled away panting. His lips barely leaving yours, still ghosting over them like a precursor for whats to come. You stared into his eyes, you could get lost in those brown orbs so easily, drowning hopelessly in their beauty and dying happily. Stan was the first to break the silence

“yes?” he questioned

you threw your head back and laughed heartily. The sight alone made him melt in your hands and the sound dug his grave. The brilliant smile you flashed him afterwards felt like the afterlife and when you leaned down to capture his lips one again he knew he was in heaven.

“yes” you breathed as you pulled away from him, as difficult as it was

Stan smiled so brightly and let out a little cheer before falling right back into your lips and kissing you more passionately than anyone ever has and you doubt anyone ever will. There you sat, Straddling Stanley Uris in an empty parking and kissing him until you were gasping for breath.

You pulled away from Stan, leaning your forehead on his, pressed into his chest, barely inches away. He leaned up and peppered your face in small kissing causing you to break into giggles.

“I love you y/n y/l/n” he spoke softly into the night air

You stared into his chocolate eyes, in complete euphoria

“I love you too Stanley Uris” you told him with the most confidence you have ever had in a statement.

#it #it cast #stanley uris #it book #it movie #stanley uris x reader #x reader #reader x stanley uris #stan the man #it fic

75 notes · View notes

captainkappa · 3 years

Text

Fanfic:: Out of Reach

“Soulmates” has become the equivalent of “love at first sight” across the galaxy. Lock eyes with someone, hold out a bare hand for a greeting, it’s as simple as that. .

But Din doesn’t think about any of that as he stares at the black-robed Jedi in front of him.

Or "The 5 Times Din and Luke Didn't Touch Skin-to-Skin and the 1 Time They Did'

Day 1 of @dinlukenation‘s Dinluke week! My very first soulmate AU ever!

A HUGE thanks to @notsosweet16 for betaing!

AO3 Link

-=-=-=-

“Soulmates” has become the equivalent of “love at first sight” across the galaxy. Lock eyes with someone, hold out a bare hand for a greeting, it’s as simple as that. People’s hands are covered in tattoos where they first made contact with their soulmate, romantic or otherwise. Wearing gloves has become something of a statement, limiting your ability to easily find your soulmate.

But Din doesn’t think about any of that as he stares at the black-robed Jedi in front of him. He doesn’t think about soulmates, or his Creed, or anything of the sort. He just thinks about Grogu, how he wants him to see his face clearly before he has to go with his people.

And so, he takes off his helmet, finally able to look at Grogu without the filter of the T-visor.

Din can’t imagine handing Grogu over, can’t imagine physically being responsible for this separation. He sets Grogu on the floor, lets him toddle to safety, something Din could never provide.

He doesn’t remember how he got back on Boba’s ship. His helmet is still off but he has the vague notion that no one saw him.

Not that it matters.

He comes out of the fog when his body cries for it, so he drags himself out of the cot and to the fresher, cognizant enough to be thankful no one else is in this part of the ship.

He takes care of his business and is faced with his reflection in the mirror. He realizes then that he should’ve kept his gaze to the sink, but now that he’s looking, he can’t tear his gaze away.

Puffy, red rimmed eyes meet his, brown curls matted to one side where he’d been laying down, but he can’t pull his eyes away to the small flower tattoo on his cheek. Din doesn’t know a damn thing about flowers, but it’s small and green, with a million little petals surrounding the center.

It’s right where Grogu touched him.

As if he didn’t know already, as if he needed magic ink to tell him what he knew in his heart of hearts from that first moment he held out a finger to the child.

He stays there until his legs burn and the tears come back. He’s glad no one is there to watch him.

Din is slumping in his seat, one of the first things they beat out of foundlings before they earned their armor. Beskar is sacred, it demands a straight spine and discipline when wearing it.

He couldn’t think of a better way to make his displeasure known for this political party Bo-Katan is dragging him to than to slump in his seat on the ride there. Especially in this gold-plated nonsense Bo-Katan pulled out once they’d taken back Sundari. This armor isn’t his, it’s a shell that other Mandos are shoved in, a shell Din never asked for.

Bo-Katan turns around in her seat to face him, a scowl on her face. She almost looks as displeased with the situation as Din does.

“You’re acting like a child,” she says.

“Then fight me.” He holds the darksaber loosely in his hand, dangerously close to dropping it.

“I’m not about to kick a man when he’s already down. Pull yourself together and I’ll challenge you.” She turns back, eyes to the swirl of hyperspace. “We’re nearly there, pull yourself together.”

That’s been the majority of their interactions for the past few months. Bo-Katan refuses to take the saber back unless it’s a fair fight and he can’t bring himself to care. What’s left is a lot of tight silences. While Din still finds that taking back Mandalore is a fool’s errand, he can at least admit that kicking Imp ass feels cathartic.

But the weight in his chest comes back when he takes off his helmet in the borrowed room on the cruiser. Then he feels like he has all the time to consider never putting his helmet on again, leaving him to stare at the reflection, at that small bundle of petals on his cheek.

Din only has four other soulmate tattoos; two from his parents, one from the Armorer, and one from Paz. He’s seen people in the galaxy with thousands, covering their entire bodies. It’s in these moments he decides to keep the helmet on, if only to hold this small part to himself, to keep it as secret as possible.

Today, Bo-Katan needs him as the figurehead for some New Republic party. Din wanted to tune out the plans, but Koska’s infernal tapping prevented that. The whole point of this was to make a strong showing in order to prove that Mandalore was strong enough to not join the New Republic. That political meeting wouldn’t take place for a month, but Din still had to go to this stupid party.

They exit hyperspace to see Chandrilla, a bright spot in the sights. They bring the small vessel to where they’re directed, landing in amongst a hundred other ships with senators of all races disembarking. Din clips the darksaber to his belt and heaves himself up, following after Bo-Katan with Wolves at his back.

He tunes out of the security check, with Kryze firmly stating that “the Mand’alor” would not be without his darksaber. Din wants to shove the offending thing in the security guard’s direction, let it get lost, let the responsibility fall from his shoulders.

But the security guard bends to Kryze’s will and the darksaber remains firmly at his side as they enter the paty, descending a short staircase to the main area.

It’s not as opulent as Din expected, he’s crashed fancier when bringing in bounties. He can hear Bo-Katan whisper to Wolves about how different it would’ve been on Mandalore in its prime, with matching tables and tablecloths, with crystals all of the same matching set. Din tunes out the conversation to look for the quietest place to hunker down and wait for the night to end. The area is entirely open, tall windows letting in light from the setting sun, illuminating where senators mingle and where tables are set up for dinner later.

He continues his scan of the room but stops as his eyes lock with a man across the room, a man with dirty blond hair, wearing all black robes.

Din barely realizes he’s walking until he is face to face with the man.

He can barely keep the fury out of his voice when he asks, “Where’s Grogu?”

The man, who looked calm before, now looks at him with raised eyebrows. “I- You changed your armor.”

That… isn’t the response he had been expecting, but it still doesn’t answer his question.

“You said Grogu would be safe with you. Where is he?”

He steps forward, forcing the Jedi to step back, but he’s not scared like most people are when he does that.

“He is safe! I couldn’t get out of attending so I got Chewie to babysit! I’ll be back as soon as I can. Sometimes I’m forced to come to New Republic meetings, but I have systems in place.” The Jedi looks him dead in the eyes, an impressive feat considering the helmet. “I give you my word that your son is safe.”

The sincerity grips Din to his core and before he can say anything in response, Bo-Katan has finally caught up to him and is dragging him away.

She brings him to an alcove that he’s already decided will be where he spends the rest of the party. She thrusts a finger in his face. He doesn’t flinch.

“I didn’t mind you doing your own thing at this party because I thought you wouldn’t do anything,” she hisses. “I didn’t expect you to yell at the last karking Jedi in the galaxy! Don’t do that again!”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

The look on her face is one of the best things he’s seen recently. He makes a mental note to thank Fett for teaching him that insult.

The rest of the party passes in a blur. Din stays where he is, just watching from the shadows. Sometimes he catches sight of the Jedi, who seems to have made it his mission to talk to everyone. He cuts an imposing figure still, even when not in combat, in all black robes flowing behind him. Dinner is served and Din stays in place, knowing there are ration bars on the ship.

He sees the Jedi laugh at something a woman in white says, his head tilted back, and he looks the most human he has all night. Din turns back to watching the two Nite Owls.

Finally, Bo-Katan signals that the night is over. He leaves his spot and joins them. They’re halfway up the steps when a voice calls out to them.

He turns to find the Jedi, face slightly flushed, a step or so below them.

“Manda’lor, I apologize for how the night started. I wish to make steps in order to make up for that in the future, if you’ll allow it,” he said, holding a gloved hand out.

He could feel the heat of Bo-Katan’s stare on the back of his neck.

“Okay,” he says, shaking his hand.

That’s why he hears the scrape of flimsi against the leather of his gloves. He pulls back his hand, palming the paper to look at later. The Jedi nods and wishes them a safe flight.

It’s only when he’s safe in his room on the cruiser does he look at the paper the Jedi slipped him.

It’s a set of coordinates and a note.

The Jedi school needs to be kept a secret to ensure the safety of the padawans. I’ll be back on the surface in two standard days. I hope this is okay as a first step.

-Luke Skywalker

He leaves for Yavin as soon as he can. Bo-Katan doesn’t question him, just lets him take one of the ships from the cruiser with the promise that he will come back when he’s of right mind to fight her for the darksaber.

It’s the first time they’ve agreed on anything. He leaves the gold-plated beskar in the borrowed room and leaves, feeling more like himself than he has in a while.

As he powers up the hyperdrive, the same phrase burns its way through his skull.

I’m going to see Grogu again.

A restless few hours in hyperspace later, he arrives on Yavin IV in the early morning. He picks up a hail and it’s Skywalker, who leads him through where to land.

He lands near one of the tall structures that poke out of the tree line. The ramp of the ship lowers, but when he sees Grogu, held in the arms of the Jedi, it’s not soon enough. He leaps off the ship, landing in a way that his knees will protest later, but he can’t help himself. His son is there, wiggling out of the Jedi’s grip so he can run up and meet him in the middle.

Din scoops his child up and holds him close, pressing his forehead to his. Grogu babbles nonsense and it’s the most beautiful noise he’s heard.

When his heart stops racing, he looks up and realizes that Skywalker is surrounded by five other kids, a human, a Miraluka, a Wookie, and two Twi’leks.

His gaze finds Luke’s again.

He clears his throat. “Thank you.”

Skywalker gives him an easy smile and says, “Let me show you around.”

He gets the tour of the temple, often interrupted by the curious questions of the children who have latched onto him. At the end, Luke shuffles everyone off to dinner, but holds Din back for a moment, a hand on his elbow, fingers finding the spaces between his armor.

“This isn’t a one-time thing,” Luke says. “You’re welcome back to the school whenever you want. I just ask that you don’t interrupt Grogu’s lessons and you keep the school a secret.”

And with that, Din falls into a routine.

He starts taking bounties again, something Greef is all the more happy for even if he sticks to small ones that won’t take months to bring in. He visits the school at least once a month, circling the planet if need be, to make sure he doesn’t land during lessons. He’s thankful for any time he gets with Grogu, before or after lessons.

It’s in the times in-between where he finds himself surprisingly restless. Luke said to consider himself a guest, but his body itches for action. Yavin is a peaceful planet, so instead of action, he finds projects for himself.

First are the lights in the basement. Then a side door that hesitates a second too long before opening. Luke tries to dissuade him from working, but Din’s stalwart. The next time Din comes for a visit, Luke shows him the list of updates he wanted to do, which he had made when he first moved in, again reassuring Din that he doesn’t need to do anything with it.

Din takes it gladly.

He’s working on the overhead fan in the kitchen - it gets stuck on the highest setting - when Luke’s droid bumps the back of his leg. Luke has introduced it to him, but the name escapes him. He doesn’t find himself recoiling from droids anymore, but he still prefers to put distance between droids and himself and Grogu.

He glances down at the shiny blue and white astromech. “What?”

The droid spins in a circle, beeping loudly.

“What? Do you want a damn cookie?”

The droid spins in a more furious circle and finally, he sees the problem.

“Oh, your wheel is stuck.”

The droid lets out a beep that sounds exasperated, but he can’t be sure.

“Well, why are you telling me? Go tell Skywalker.”

The droid makes a bunch more beeping noises and moves toward the window. Din, at a loss for what else to do, followed. He sees Luke in the courtyard with the padawans. They’re sitting in a circle, legs crossed, eyes closed. Even at this distance, Din can see how peaceful Luke looks, how the lines smooth from his face, lines someone Luke’s age shouldn’t have yet.

He looks down at the droid that’s moving in a semi-circle, back and forth. He thinks it’s trying to look cute.

“Alright. Lemme see it.”

It’s an awkward dance to get the droid to prop up its leg. He imagines Luke must have a space set up for this very thing, but his tools are already here and he’s not about to go poking where Luke hasn’t already told him he could go.

It’s where Luke and the foundlings find him when they come in for lessons, Din hunched over the astromech, quietly bitching back as it beeps in apparent distress.

“I’m almost done!” Din exclaims, holding the last two wires in his hand. “Do you want me to stop here? Your movement would be even more limited.”

“Are you two having fun?” Luke asks, snapping Din out of his reverie.

He turns to face a smirking Luke, glad the helmet hides the warmth inexplicably climbing up his face.

“This thing demanded I fix his leg.” He taps the leg in question, which gets Artoo’s head spinning.

Luke snorts but puts on the same face he gives his students when they’ve done something bad. “That’s not very nice, Artoo, he was just trying to help!”

Artoo shakes its head, which might be an apology? Din can’t tell because then Luke is squatting down in front of him, a hand on Din’s knee for balance.

“If he’s not going to thank you, I will. You didn’t have to.”

And Din realizes he didn’t. It had never occurred to him not to do this for Artoo, for Luke.

“You were busy, and this piece of shit wasn’t letting up.”

That definitely gets him an angry beep from Artoo, but Luke just smiles.

“He’s definitely thankful,” he says with a smile that seems to come easy to him.

Din, not knowing what to say in response, just nods and finishes soldering the last wires in place. With the hatch in place, Artoo straightens up and gives them a turn around the kitchen. He then gives a series of loud beeps as he turns in a tight circle.

“Yes, you look very nice,” Luke says to the droid, who bumps his leg in affirmation. Luke continues, “Well, while I’m here, do you want a tune up, buddy?”

The droid spins his head in an affirmative and Luke chuckles.

“Alright, let’s go down to my workshop.”

Luke takes a couple of steps before turning back.

“Coming?”

Din looks up from where he was putting his tools away. “Do… you want me here?”

“Of course! Besides, you know what they say, four hands are better than two.”

“I’ve never heard that before.”

“You’ve never met a besalisk before then.”

Din just shakes his head, an amused smile on his face that he knows Luke can’t see, but he packs up his tools and follows Luke to the workshop, which is easily the messiest place in the temple. Parts are strewn everywhere, there are tables but they merely serve as a means to hold more stuff, but Luke walks in like it’s home, throwing his robe over a chair, shoulders relaxing with the movement.

Artoo wheels over to a spot against the wall, and Din quickly realizes the platform elevates for better access on the droid. The tools float over and with a jerk of Luke’s head, he beckons Din over.

He settles in on the other side of Artoo, wordlessly putting his tools with Luke’s between them. He lets Luke open the main access panel and already, the astromech is beeping up a storm.

“What’s he saying?”

Luke doesn’t look up from his work, pulling out the necessary parts and handing some over to Din.

“Artoo is bitching about the last time I did this for him. No, it was not on Hoth.” He lightly smacks the droid’s recently fixed leg.

Din can’t help the way his head tilts. “Why would you ever go to Hoth?”

“It was a Rebel base for a while.”

And Luke launches into a story about the initial days at that base, jumping into the snow just to jump in the hot springs. That turns into his story taking down an AT-AT by himself. He can tell Luke is skipping over parts based on when he pauses, but Din doesn’t mind the censorship. Din even finds himself recounting the events of Sorgan. He finds himself startlingly content like this, passing tools to one another, swapping stories, a mouthy droid between them.

Din can’t find Luke anywhere, but he’s not about to panic just yet.

The last time he has seen Luke was when they were trading off kids. Since the list of repairs has gotten shorter and shorter, he helps with the children. Luke has never asked for his help, but the grateful look is evident to Din when he arrives to take the foundlings off his hands. Din is in charge of the kids after lessons, giving Luke the break he desperately needs before dinner. On some days, Din has to leave a heated plate outside of Luke’s door, the Jedi already passed out from a long day.

And so, with Artoo on reluctant-babysitter duty, Din wanders the halls of the temple, checking in all the usual places; the workshop, the study, the meditation room, and the man’s personal room.

It’s only when he walks outside the temple and looks up does he find Luke, a dark spot on the levels of the temple. He didn’t even know there was a way to get onto them.

So, he powers on his jetpack and takes a short flight up. Luke glances at him for a moment before he looks back to the horizon. Din swallows, noticing how the robe falls off his shoulder, revealing a brown tunic, the collar being pulled down with the weight of the robe, revealing freckled skin.

“You missed dinner,” he says, by way of greeting.

“Ah, sorry. I was cleaning after the kids and looked up and… have you seen anything like it?”

Din looks at the horizon and he really tries, but it looks most of the same as most sunsets he’s seen on moons like Yavin IV; varying shades of red petering off into soft clouds.

He sits down, leaving plenty of space between him and Luke, to try and see if being at his level will give him the same experience. It doesn’t

Before he can give an appropriate answer, Luke whips his head around and stares at him, really scrutinizing him. Din is struck dumb for a moment, unaware as to why he’s under such a microscope.

Finally, Luke speaks up. “How well can you see the colors?”

“Not terribly well.” When was the last time he looked at a sunset without the helmet? Sorgan, all those months ago?

Luke considers him again before pulling at the cloth belt at his waist. Before Din can realize what he’s doing, the cloth is around his eyes, firmly tied in place.

“Here. This okay?” Luke asks.

Din is struck dumb for another moment. Luke had just been waxing about how beautiful the sunset was and now… was blinding himself so Din could see. Has anyone ever done that for him? Din can’t remember.

“Um… how well can you see?”

“I see a little bit of the sky, but that’s it. Dark as night in here.”

Din holds up three fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“One,” he says with a smile like he’s told a joke.

“Okay… okay.” Din takes a shaky breath before undoing the clasp and removing his helmet, putting it to the side.

Immediately, the world is bathed in a soft red. He looks to the horizon and his breath catches in his throat. The sun is low in the sky, surrounded by a deep orange that fades into red. The clouds, as few of them that there are, look like they’re on fire. He shifts closer to Luke, just enough so the glare of the sun against his ship (his ship, that he bought with his own money, no longer relying on Bo-Katan’s charity) is no longer in his eyes.

Luke must correctly interpret his silence for awe.

“Right?” Luke says, happiness clear in his voice. “But I’ll be honest, no sunset can match a binary sunset on Tatooine.”

“You’re from Tatooine?”

“Yeah, 19 miserable years under those suns. ‘Course now… I think a lot differently about that time.”

And just like that, Luke is talking about shooting womp rats and all the things he and his friends did to fight off the boredom. He touches on the excitement when his friends were getting their soulmate tattoos, the games they’d play to touch and see. His hands fly about as he does so and Din can detect a hint of a twang in his voice the more he talks about his past. He also catches how his voice pauses when he talks about his aunt and uncle who raised him, but he doesn’t press.

His hands settle as Din finds himself talking about his youth in the Fighting Corps, the mischief he and his siblings would get into, even when they should have been too tired to move.

Din looks down and sees that the tips of Luke’s fingers are touching his own. He can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not, so he leaves his hand there.

By the time the other moons are visible, the two of them are still up there.

Maybe it’s a bad idea to take a high-profile bounty right after losing the darksaber to Bo-Katan, but Din is feeling on top of the world, so he decides to act like it. As he nurses his wounds on his ship, it’s clear he’s rustier than he realized.

He delivers on the bounty though, he’s not that out of practice. Nonetheless, he ends up using more bacta on himself than he anticipated. That’s after realizing that the tube was expired by a couple of months, but he slips into old habits, using the spray anyway.

As much as Din planned on going straight to Yavin, he lingers in Nevarro, lingering in the market before buckling down and using his new found credits. He buys a pack of cookies for the foundlings, a plush bantha for Grogu, and he hesitates further before grabbing the leather gloves and slapping them on top of the pile.

Din spends most of the ride to Yavin IV wondering if he should forget the gloves or give them to Luke as intended. He doesn’t think about how his hand keeps finding his arm and rubbing at it.

He comms ahead to let Luke know he’s arriving so that when he touches down, Luke’s corralling the children to stand far enough back. Grogu is the first to escape, running up and not slowing down, but Din considers himself an expert at picking up his son, even when he’s holding things in his other hand. The children crowd around him and soon he’s divested of the cookies and plush. He can see the other man’s expression soften at the sight, and further soften when Din holds out the gloves.

“I… I thought of you when I saw them,” he says, suddenly nervous.

Luke takes them, bare hand feeling the smooth leather. He looks back up to Din.

“Thank you,” he says. His eyes slide down Din’s body, holding him in place until he stops.

He turns to the children around him. “Tayf, can you bring everyone inside for nap time?”

The Miraluka girl nods, corralling all of the smaller children into the Temple. The Wookie walks up and wordlessly holds out his hands for Grogu. Din gives him over easily, knowing how much Grogu loves his new friends. He goes to follow the kids, but a firm hand on his elbow stops him.

Leaning in close, Luke whispers, “Are you okay?”

“What?”

Luke balls up the sleeve of his robes and pressed on his arm. He looks up at him with intent in his eyes. “You’re bleeding.”

Din looks himself over and the movement causes pain to flare up on his arm and that’s when he remembers.

“I’m fine. The bacta I used had expired, but that’s it.”

Luke’s still looking at him with a steely gaze, but the grip on his elbow lessens.

“Can you… indulge me and let me help you out still? You should probably wash out the old bacta anyway.”

Din’s tongue suddenly feels much heavier. “But your students…”

“Can handle nap time by themselves. Please? If your Creed will allow it?”

Din accepts.

Luke keeps an arm on him the entire walk there and Din has reasons why that’s unnecessary on the tip of his tongue, that he’s survived far, far worse, that the wound is on his arm and not his hand, but he keeps his mouth shut. Luke steers him to a fresher that is out of the way enough that the kids won’t walk in on them.

Luke gestures for him to sit on the edge of the tub and once seated, looks much more nervous than he did outside.

“Um, if you need me to turn around or… something.”

“I can take off my armor while you grab the bacta?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s a good idea!”

Luke leaves. Alone, Din carefully pulls off and lays down the pauldron and vambrace on the ground next to him. He considers the flight suit before carefully rolling it up past the wound. It squeezes uncomfortably, but it’s better than stripping entirely or cutting the sleeve.

Luke returns with a small pile of things in his hands.

“This is maybe a little too much but,” the glove snaps against his skin and he hisses, “you never know.”

Din just nods, suddenly trying to remember the last person who took this much care with him.

The actual process of cleaning up and bandaging is quick. Not much blood was trickling out, so it was a routine process. That’s what Din tells himself as he hyperfocuses on the occasional drag of the glove on his skin, the tender way Luke’s fingers prod at the wound for signs of infection, how their faces seem so, so close right now.

But it’s a barely there feeling, and then Din is pulling the sleeve back into place and Luke is shucking off the latex.

“Thank you.”

Luke gives him a small smile. “Just make sure you restock before you leave. The temple’s stores are open to you.”

“I know.”

Luke turns to start dinner but pauses. “Thank you for the gloves by the way.”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, it’s not.”

The wound tingled for ages after Luke left, and Din was left to consider if it was because of the bacta working or Luke’s proximity. He brings up his other hand to trace the wound, to try and chase that lingering warmth.

+1.

All of the famous soulmate stories involve the touch being a big climactic moment. Holos show the touch happening at the exact right or wrong time. Stars, even Han and Leia had that moment, shouting at each other in the Rebel base. According to Luke, everyone could recount where they were when the shouting suddenly stopped as they made contact.

Din and Luke don’t get a big moment. They get dishes.

The padawans are all asleep in their beds. Din is washing dishes and Luke is drying. Din’s gloves lie abandoned on the table. Din hands a bowl to Luke, their fingers brush with no thought-

And then it clicks.

The two of them whip their heads up to stare at each other, the bowl forgotten on the floor, shattered.

“Did that-?”

“Are we-?”

Din pulls his arm closer to him to confirm that yes, there’s now a small flower tattoo where their fingers brushed, bright, long golden petals drooping toward his palm.

He looks up and sees Luke checking the same with his hand.

Din tries to battle down the rising panic in his throat as he speaks, “I- It’s okay, this doesn’t have to be anything else than friendship.”

Luke looks up sharply. “What… what if I want it to be more?”

“But… attachments?”

“I’m attached to my sister whether I like it or not. I… I’m a grown ass man who can love without falling to the darkside. I’d be able to let you go, like now if you said you wanted to stay friends.”

Din feels dizzy as he admits, “I don’t want to just be friends.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They hold eye contact and Din is suddenly aware of the space between them.

And how he doesn’t want there to be space between them.

He grasps Luke’s fingers, this time better appreciating the warmth in them. He feels Luke’s fingers flex against his and that just emboldens him to reach up with his other hand and cup the other man’s face. He can more so feel rather than hear how Luke’s voice hitches, feels the warmth of his cheeks as they flare red.

“Can I… do something?”

“Sure,” Luke says, a touch breathless.

Din lets go of Luke’s jaw and brings his hand around. He tangles his fingers in Luke’s hair, sighing at the softens, at the knots he runs into, made from being out all day with the kids.

He tilts Luke’s head forward, bringing his head forward as well, until their foreheads meet. Luke closes his eyes with the movement and Din is just happy to stand here.

He whispers, “This is called a keldabe kiss.”

Still with eyes closed, Luke smiles. “I like it.”

Din does too.

#dinluke #skydalorian #din djarin x luke skywalker #din djarin/luke skywalker #dinluke week #man i hope even more people participate thoughout the rest of the week!#so many firsts packed into this fic #ok i think thats enough tags #omg guess whos a dumbass and forgot teir own fanfic related tags #this bitch #kappa writes #my fanfic #the mandalorian #star wars #sw

77 notes · View notes

zintranslations · 3 years

Text

Kaleidoscope of Death, Extra 4

Kaleidoscope of Death by Xi Zixu Link to Chinese / Novel Updates

Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths (1)

The first time Cheng Yixie understood that he likely wouldn't live for long was on the day of his fifth birthday. While other five-year-olds were still bumbling about without much concept of life and death, he had understood something in his mother's tears and his father's frowns. His fifth birthday was spent in the hospital, alongside his foolish brother Cheng Qianli. With IV drips in their arms and eating horribly bitter medicine, they stuck five candles into a lovely cake to make a wish.

Cheng Yixie looked at the candles on their cake and quietly thought, he wished he could grow up quicker, because there were still placed he wanted to see in this world.

Cheng Qianli clearly didn’t think as much as Cheng Yixie. He wore a brilliant smile in sharp contrast with the impassive Cheng Yixie sitting next to him, and all of his attention was on the sweet and spongey cake before him. Fools had an easier time than geniuses. A single sweet candy could bring a genuine smile out of him.

Cheng Yixie and Cheng Qianli were twins, but everything about them beside their faces seemed completely different.

Cheng Yixie had realized long ago that they were different from other kids. He'd even heard a doctor discuss their condition with their parents. From that discussion, a single sentence had been imprinted in his brain. Their primary doctor had said that, at the current level of medical progress, he and Cheng Qianli would not live past sixteen.

Sixteen—sixteen. Life would only just be starting. Cheng Yixie went back to their hospital room and watched his brother sit in the hospital bed, giggling at the cartoon on TV. There wasn't a single shadow in Cheng Qianli's eyes; they were as bright as the blue skies outside their window.

Cheng Qianli was a lot skinnier than he was, and his body was weaker too. Though he was almost ten, he still looked like an undernourished bean sprout. For treatment, neither of them had any hair. All over their heads and wrists were green and purple puncture marks.

Cheng Yixie came into the hospital room and Cheng Qianli looked up at him, calling out Gege in a sweet voice. That pair of adorable cat eyes were overflowing with palpable joy; he'd never bothered hiding his affection for Cheng Yixie.

"Gege." The tiny Cheng Qianli looked right and left, before carefully waving Cheng Yixie over.

Cheng Yixie went to his bedside, and Cheng Qianli indicated he should bend down. Cheng Yixie thought that Cheng Qianli had something to say to him and obeyed. But the moment he bent, a tiny piece of candy was pushed between his lips.

"Sh," Cheng Qianli said. "Don't tell nurse-jiejie. Grandma gave it to me in secret. I gave it a lick, it's super yummy."

Because they were sick, their diets were under strict control; the amount of snacks they got to eat in a year could be counted on both hands. Cheng Yixie thought, how nice would it be if they were normal children? Then Cheng Yixie could eat all the food that he wanted, and they wouldn't have to be doing such a pitiful thing.

"You're feeding me something you already ate?" was how Cheng Yixie responded to Cheng Qianli's good will. "Gross."

"You're lying," Cheng Qianli harrumphed. "You like candy too, I know it. Mean gege."

Cheng Yixie said nothing. The candy's sweetness was dispersing through his mouth, but all he could see was their future. He couldn't imagine losing this foolish brother of his; he wanted so badly to see Cheng Qianli grow up and have a life of his own.

Cheng Yixie thought surviving was just wishful thinking, until he was chosen by the doors.

The terrifying world of the doors was perhaps an awful sort of torture for many, but for Cheng Yixie, it was a blessing of mercy from the heavens.

When he entered the first door he wasn't even sixteen, and looked completely out of place in the pack of adults.

His first door was very difficult. Cheng Yixie believed that he would die inside, but his fortune was good—he met a veteran who'd passed through many doors. That veteran opened the door, and Cheng Yixie successfully left that extra-dimensional world.

After coming out from the door, Cheng Yixie's physical condition began to swiftly get better.

The doctors called it a miracle. They were getting the same medicine and the same treatments, but Cheng Yixie's body was getting better and quickly approaching normalcy, while Cheng Qianli's was getting weaker.

Cheng Yixie knew why this was happening. He tried telling this absurd yet genuine truth to his parents, but both parents thought he was joking.

In everybody else's eyes, Cheng Yixie had only sat on his bed and spaced out for a bit. He hadn't gone anywhere. Everything he said was probably just a child's imagination. How could they take the imaginary as truth?

Cheng Yixie was smart enough to know that the adults would never understand. This matter had already gone beyond explicable bounds, and he had no evidence to prove the existence of the door.

Then what about Cheng Qianli? Cheng Yixie thought. What about his little fool of a brother?

Before Cheng Yixie had an answer, he entered his second door. And in his second door, he met Obsidian leader Ruan Nanzhu.

Ruan Nanzhu had been in a dress at the time, and called him kiddo with a smile.

Cheng Yixie only shot him a cold look, not bothering to respond. What good was any of this talk? In his first door he'd seen plenty of adults who acted all arrogant and coy one second end up dead the next.

Cheng Yixie figured the same would be true of Ruan Nanzhu. But then he discovered that Ruan Nanzhu didn't seem to be as he'd thought. Ruan Nanzhu was good. Cheng Yixie was keen enough to pick this up after observing Ruan Nanzhu's following actions.

As Ruan Nanzhu got ready to leave, he gave Cheng Yixie a way to contact him, telling Cheng Yixie that if he wanted to know more, he could get in touch.

Cheng Yixie looked at that contact point and memorized it silently.

After leaving the second door, Cheng Yixie got in touch with Ruan Nanzhu and learned about the existence of Obsidian.

"Do you want to come to Obsidian? Maybe you can live for a bit longer here," Ruan Nanzhu said.

Cheng Yixie agreed. He didn't even get his parents' permission before leaving the hospital. He flew to the city where Ruan Nanzhu lived that night.

This was actually quite the risky gamble, because Cheng Yixie couldn't be sure if Ruan Nanzhu actually had any good will toward him. He was just a helpless kid, and if Ruan Nanzhu really wanted to do something to him, he had no chance of even resisting.

But Cheng Yixie could only make the gamble, because Cheng Qianli didn't have much time left.

There was an obvious contrast now that Cheng Yixie was getting healthier. Cheng Qianli was like a plant approaching winter; life was flowing out of him at a rate visible to the naked eye.

After arriving at Obsidian, the first thing he asked upon meeting Ruan Nanzhu was, "can other people get the doors too?"

To his question, Ruan Nanzhu was silent for a while, before saying, "yes, but I'm not telling you how."

"Why not?" Cheng Yixie asked.

"Because you pay with somebody else's life," Ruan Nanzhu said. "Can you do such a thing?"

Cheng Yixie was silent.

Ruan Nanzhu didn't continue the topic, only gave him a simple introduction to the doors. He told him about the hints, about Obsidian, and about some other things. Of course, from start to finish, he never once told Cheng Yixie how to steal somebody else's door. He only warned Cheng Yixie to hide his identity inside the door, or else there would be danger.

Cheng Yixie paid close attention. As he listened, however, he kept thinking about Cheng Qianli. He was thinking that even if he did steal a door for Cheng Qianli, would Cheng Qianli be able to make it out?

The worlds inside the doors were so scary, and didn't suit the naive Cheng Qianli at all. Even if he stole the doors for Cheng Qianli like Ruan Nanzhu said, would it be just another form of torture for Cheng Qianli?

He was so small, and so scared of the dark. He was so completely different from Cheng Yixie. He was just a normal kid.

That night, Cheng Yixie sat in the garden by himself for a long, long time. It wasn't until dawn emerged over the horizon that he rubbed his dry eyes and went impassively back into the house.

What Cheng Yixie was thinking, nobody knew. Since that day on, he never once returned home, and he never once contacted Cheng Qianli.

Is it because your brother's too stupid? So you don't like him anymore? someone asked Cheng Yixie once. Cheng Yixie didn't say anything in return, just shot that person an icy look.

The reason he didn't go back and didn't contact Cheng Qianli was because he was scared. He was scared that he wouldn't be able to control himself, and he would do something out of bounds.

He didn't even dare try to think about Cheng Qianli dying. The moment he thought about it, many terrifying thoughts would surface in his mind.

Cheng Qianli was the calamity in Cheng Yixie's life that he could never escape; he knew that for this brother of his, he could cross even the lowest lines.

And when he became conscious of this, the only thing Cheng Yixie could do was reduce the influence Cheng Qianli had on him—even if the reduction process was tantamount to cutting out a part of himself by brute force.

They were twins. Twins linked by blood. A single glance, a single look, and they could understand what the other was thinking; even a thousand miles away, Cheng Yixie could feel Cheng Qianli growing gradually weaker.

Cheng Yixie thought everything would end like this. But one afternoon, he got a call from Cheng Qianli.

To this very day, Cheng Yixie could recall the weather then.

It was a drizzling spring day, and the shrubs in the yard were lush with greenery. Everything was filled with the breath of revival. And Cheng Qianli's voice came from the other end of the line, sniffling and a little bit weak. He cried, "Ge, Ge, I'm so scared—"

Cheng Yixie, "what's wrong?" He'd sensed something, and his voice couldn't help but tighten in alarm.

"I went into a door." Cheng Qianli spoke in frail stutters. "There were so many ghosts inside. I finally came out. Am I dreaming…When are you coming back…I miss you so much…" It seemed he was growing unconscious, slowly beginning to mumble nonsense.

As Cheng Yixie listened, however, he began to laugh quietly. He laughed until tears came out, and said, "don't be scared. Gege's here. Wait for Gege to come back."

Gege will protect you.

And so, Cheng Yixie understood that he'd never escape Cheng Qianli the calamity. He would use every single method at his disposal to protect Cheng Qianli's life. He would see him grow up, marry, have children. His children would have children and he would definitely live on and prosper.

Author's Note:

Here's the long-awaited twins extra!

[Extra: Shameless Couple(2)] | [Extra: Twin Lives, Twin Deaths(2)]

#kaleidoscope of death #xi zixu #cnovel #chinese translation #死亡萬花筒 #i'm so fucking upset y'all #there are three parts lmfao

140 notes · View notes

sukifans · 4 years

Text

IT’S ALL LATIN TO ME

ZUKO X READER COLLEGE!SMAU

⏎ MASTERLIST // part III « IV. seduction siri » part V

SUMMARY: you’re a premed student at BSSU and you thought it’d be a good idea to take a latin class, but you’re in way over your head here. good thing your buddy sokka knows a classics major in your section you can study with.

WARNINGS: language, alcohol/partying

Zuko felt... oddly nervous as he pulled up to her apartment building. He sent the text to let her know he’d arrived and anxiously scrolled through his Spotify, flicking quickly through his various playlists. He knew he was far too concerned about what music to play while she was in the car with him but he wanted to get “the vibe” right, as Sokka would say. That, and it gave him something to focus on that wasn’t panicking over conversation starters in case of an awkward lull. When he saw her coming he leapt out of the driver’s seat.

“Hey, Zuko!” (Y/N) smiled when she saw him and then furrowed her brow when he hurried over to the passenger side. Her face heated when he opened her door. “Oh, my gods. You don’t have to do that,” she said as she slid into her seat.

“It’s polite,” he said simply before shutting the door and walking back to his side. In reality he was already freaking out — had he fucked it up by being weird literally seconds into this?

“Making me feel like a princess or something over here,” she laughed, face still red. He looked over at her and she closed her mouth quickly, remembering he was actually a prince. Like, for real. “Sorry.”

She shook her head with a small smile. “Is this a date, then?” she teased and the tips of his ears went red.

“No,” he said quickly. “No, it just... sounds like you’re dating the wrong kinds of guys.”

“Tell me about it.” She rolled her eyes and slumped down into the seat. “My type seems to be chauvinist douchebag.”

“That’s unfortunate.” He never thought he’d ever wish to be a chauvinist douchebag. Maybe her type also included awkward but well-intended ex-royalty and she just didn’t feel the need to mention it.

“Very,” she said darkly before perking up. “So are you excited for the party?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Me too. I’m really glad you decided to come.”

“Didn’t really have much of a choice since I live with Sokka,” he joked lightly. She shrugged.

“Still, I’ll be happy to see you loosen up a bit. I know I haven’t known you for very long but you always seem so tense.”

“It’ll definitely be interesting,” he deflected deftly. “I have to say, though, that I’m looking forward to seeing for myself what Suki meant when she said you’re an affectionate drunk.” He shot her an amused smirk that made her stomach feel fluttery.

“Spirits, my friends are such gossips! Yes, I get a little more touchy and I like to dance with people and tell everyone how much I love them. But one time I hit the merlot a little too hard and started feeling sexy — as one does after drinking too much wine — and tried to make out with everyone. It only happens when I drink wine, though!”

He laughed at her animated retelling, her wild gesticulations visible out of the corner of his eye. He grinned over at her after he’d pulled into the store parking lot and turned the car off. “I guess I’ll have to be sure to grab a bottle or three, then.”

She laughed, looking away to hide her flushed face. “That’s on you, then. I’ll be your responsibility for the night.”

“It’d be my honor and immense pleasure.” He waggled his eyebrows and she groaned, covering her face with her hands. He was pretty proud of himself for his flirting thus far. He’d discovered he really liked making her blush, watching the pink tinge spread from her cheeks across the bridge of her nose and creep up her temples. He made her go red again when he made purposeful eye contact with her and slipped two bottles of red wine into the cart as they stocked up on liquor.

When they got back to his and Sokka’s apartment, (Y/N) started giggling at the amount of decorations Sokka had put up — the crepe paper and streamers being the least of it. He had even done a few very interpretative portraits of Suki and hung them. She looked up at the ceiling and laughed, elbowing Zuko and nodding up at the balloons.

“I thought they said Suki was blowing the balloons up?” she said. He looked up and frowned.

“Sokka, do you have helium somewhere?” he shouted into the apartment as he unloaded the alcohol. Sokka and Suki popped out of a room.

“Not anymore,” Sokka answered. “Used it all up. Suki had to do the rest.” He pointed at a few balloons scattered on the floor.

“Where the hell did you get it?”

“Found it.”

“Wh-“ she murmured, looking over to Zuko. He just shook his head. Probably better to not ask questions.

“Katara’s on the way with Aang and Toph,” Suki said as she started pulling cups from the cabinet.

“And pizza!” Sokka added. “Don’t worry, she got Hawaiian for you two.” He shuddered, glaring at (Y/N) and Zuko.

“You like Hawaiian too?” She grinned at him and held out her fist. “That’s what’s up.”

He hesitantly tapped his knuckles against hers. The first time Sokka had tried to fist-bump him he’d just grabbed his hand and shook it. Sokka liked to torment him about it often. “It’s about the sweet and salty.”

“It’s fucked up is what it is,” said Sokka. “Fruit doesn’t belong on pizza. And don’t say tomato is a fruit.”

“But it is,” (Y/N) said.

“That’s a moot point.” She and Zuko exchanged looks and he rolled his eyes, making her giggle.

Soon after the other three arrived, with the food of course. Sokka continued to spout slander about Hawaiian pizza until Zuko put him in a headlock while (Y/N) shoved a piece of pineapple into his mouth. He piped down after that while everyone else laughed. Once they’d eaten, they finished the beers they’d been sipping on started to break into the “good shit,” as Toph so eloquently said. She made everyone drinks, pouring with a very heavy hand. It didn’t take long before they all started getting a little tipsy and Sokka started setting up beer pong on the kitchen island, pouring shots in the Solo cups.

“Okay, so,” Sokka started, “Me and Zuko, (Y/N) and Suki, and Toph and Aang. Katara, you ref as usual. The winner of the first round plays us.”

Suki and Katara shared a look. “Don’t you want to be on my team, and (Y/N) can be with Zuko?” Suki asked.

“Sorry, babe, but Zuko’s the best shot pong player here and I’m not losing.” He linked his arm with Zuko’s.

“Don’t worry, Suki; Sokka doesn’t know that I’m actually the best ‘shot pong’ player here because he’s never played against me,” (Y/N) said, resting her hand on Suki’s arm reassuringly. Suki’s concern was more about forcing Zuko and (Y/N) together, but she nodded anyways.

“Yeah?” Zuko smirked. “Is that a challenge?”

“I think it is, Sparky,” Toph said, egging them on. They would just have to push them together from a different angle and obviously Sokka would be no help.

“You’re going down, hotman.” (Y/N) set her drink down, eager at the prospect of some friendly competition.

“Maybe later, princess. I have a tournament to win first,” he said smugly, grinning at the way she went bright red. Her stomach flipped at his words and she couldn’t even think of a witty response. She downed her drink instead, shuddering when the alcohol burned her throat.

“It’s on,” she growled. Zuko had to shake himself to tear his eyes away from the intense look she was giving him – it made him a little scared, but also a little turned on.

It all started off well and good. She and Suki pretty easily beat Toph and Aang. Though Toph was blind, she was definitely the better player of the two. When it came time to play the boys, Zuko watched, mesmerized, as (Y/N) rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, shooting him a cocky smile.

“Ready to lose?” Sokka taunted, now starting to sway a little bit from the amount he’d indulged while the other game was happening.

“I don’t think that’ll be a concern, babe,” Suki said, looking on with amusement and, strangely, adoration when Sokka belched loudly and started laughing. Zuko chuckled at the look (Y/N) shot him from the other side of the island.

It was a tough game, they would both have to admit. Neither (Y/N) nor Zuko missed a cup at the start, but the alcohol began affecting the game soon after the start. Toph, Aang, and even the “impartial judge” Katara cheered when (Y/N) or Suki were able to sink a ball into a cup and groaned animatedly when Zuko or Sokka did. Eventually, both teams were down to one cup.

“Watch this,” Zuko elbowed Sokka roughly, knocking the other boy onto the floor. Undeterred, Zuko turned around and tossed the ball over his shoulder without looking. It missed tremendously, bouncing off Toph’s forehead. “Sorry, Beifong,” he laughed as she scowled in his direction. With a wink, (Y/N) easily tossed the ball into the boys’ last cup. Everyone cheered as Zuko drank, including Sokka from the floor. Suki hugged (Y/N) tightly, spinning her around as they celebrated their victory.

“Did we win?” Sokka asked, sitting up with great difficulty.

“Not this time, buddy,” said Zuko as he helped his friend stand again.

“You serious?” Sokka gasped and pushed him, causing both of them to stumble. “What the hell?! (Y/N), you’re officially my new shot pong partner from here on out!”

“Maybe. On the other hand, though, if Zuko and I teamed up we’d be unstoppable.”

“I like the sound of that,” Zuko mused and Sokka started babbling about betrayal and the “coup d’état” they were staging against him. Aang, bored of Sokka’s drunken whining, cranked up the music. (Y/N) grabbed Zuko and pulled him into a dance while Suki went to go comfort a pouting Sokka on the couch. She laughed at how stiffly he moved even when drunk, like dancing was a completely foreign concept to him. He just kind of shifted his weight from foot to foot, hardly even in time with the beat of the music. Zuko filled his cup again and hoped it would help unlock some secret rhythm or skills.

“I’m so sorry, Zu!” she giggled as she wobbled, grabbing onto his bicep for support. She’d bumped into the glass he was holding and spilled it everywhere, including across both of their shirts. Sokka looked over and cackled.

“(Y/N) made Zuko wet!” he crowed, making everyone else giggle at the pair.

“Shut up, Sokka!” Zuko laughed, chucking a kitchen towel he’d been using to mop up the mess on the floor. It hit the other boy square in the face, making a wet slapping sound against his skin. The group was nearly in tears at Sokka’s shriek of disgust. (Y/N) leaned heavily against Zuko to keep from toppling over.

“Can I borrow a shirt?” she asked of Sokka once she caught her breath.

“No,” he pouted. “Get one of Sifu Hotman’s shirts. We’re not friends anymore.”

“You are such a drama queen!” She rolled her eyes, still grinning. “You got a shirt I can borrow, Zu?”

“Yeah, sure.” He felt anxiety pulling in his gut as he led her to his bedroom. She followed closely behind, also feeling rather nervous but clutching his arm still as she wobbled. He tossed her an old t-shirt and, to his immense surprise and embarrassment, she’d already stripped off her soiled top when he turned to her. She giggled when his face went red and he quickly turned back around. Mumbling an apology, he started to pull off his own shirt.

(Y/N) stared as the fabric lifted, revealing a massive tattoo across the expanse of his muscular back. It was a beautifully intricate dragon done in red and black ink and its angry eyes seemed to follow her as she swayed on her feet.

“Whoah,” she gasped and stepped forwards.

He was about to ask what was wrong when he felt her fingertips ghost across his skin, making him shiver involuntarily. “I didn’t know you had such a dope tattoo.”

“I didn’t know it mattered,” he said, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of her tracing the lines. It was hard to tell whether it was the alcohol or her gentle touch that was making his head fuzzy and his skin feel hot.

“Of course it matters!” His breath caught in his throat when she slid her hands around to his front and hugged herself to him, resting her cheek against his back. “Tattoos are sexy and cool, and you’re already sexy and cool, so now you’re, like, extra sexy and cool.”

“You- you think that I’m sexy and cool?”

“And warm,” she sighed happily. He turned and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he cautiously settled his hands on her hips. He pressed his forehead against hers in an attempt to bring her face into focus.

“Well... I think you’re sexy and cool.” He hiccuped. “And warm,” he added after a moment of thought. She giggled at the way his alcohol-scented breath tickled her face.

“Hey, c’mere,” she whispered, squishing his face between her palms.

“I’m already here,” he murmured back, pulling her in by her hips anyways so their bodies touched.

“I have to tell you a secret.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “I wanna... smooch your face.”

Zuko wrinkled his nose adorably. “‘Smooch?’ You spend too much time with Sokka.”

“Why, you jealous?”

Yes. “Shut up,” he grumbled.

“Make me.”

That means she wants me to kiss her, right? She just said she wants to kiss me and “make me” always means “kiss me” in the romcoms and romance books. But maybe not. “How?”

(Y/N) laughed. “You’re cute when you’re dumb.”

“Hey!”

“What? You are.”

“I’m not dumb!”

“You’re a little dumb. What else do you need, a written invitation? An e-vite maybe? Do you want to RSVP? I’ll need to know if you’re bringing a-“ He cut off her teasing by pressing his lips to hers, squeezing her hips. She responded immediately and enthusiastically, leaning into his chest and threading her fingers through his hair. She hummed contentedly into his mouth when he slipped his hands down to grab her ass. When she pulled back he chased after her lips needily and she chuckled, patting his chest. “We’re taking a long time, they’re gonna get suspicious.”

“So what?” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her jaw instead and trailing more down her neck when she tilted her head to give him easier access. He was feeling awfully emboldened by the kiss and the considerable amount of liquid courage he’d indulged in. “Sokka introduced us with exactly this goal in mind.”

“I don’t know about exactly this goal, but that’s ‘so what.’ I couldn’t stand to see him so pleased with himself.”

He considered this and pulled himself with great effort away from his ministrations at her neck. “You’re right. He’d be unbearable.”

She looked up at him with bright eyes and swollen red lips and he wanted desperately to kiss her again. With a grin, she pulled his t-shirt over her head. He’d completely forgotten how they’d even ended up in his bedroom in the first place. “Put your shirt on and let’s go, hotman. I’m gonna kick your ass at blackjack.” She started to pull him by his hand towards the door but he yanked her back, catching her in his arms she stumbled.

“Don’t think we won’t pick this back up later, princess.” His tone made her gulp, eyes wide. He gave her a wicked grin and led her back out to everyone else as he shrugged on a new shirt.

“Finally! What took so long?” Aang said, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Don’t ask that. I don’t want to hear them talk about making out,” Toph huffed. Both Zuko and (Y/N) blushed in response, looking at the floor. Sokka started cheering and shouting and Katara punched him in the arm to get him to shut up. (Y/N) and Zuko squished in together in the empty spot on the couch as Suki started dealing playing cards. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pretended not to know how to play the game so she could tease him and show him how. They were so engrossed in each other that they missed the satisfied smirks all their friends were shooting each other.

A/N: whenever i add a read more cut on my laptop tumblr freaks out and deletes half the fic so. sorry lmao. anyways this makes me miss drinking with my friends. woulda hugged the homies a little tighter if i knew it was gonna be like this 🥺😪

TAGS: @theblueslytherin @beifongsss @coconutsaiyan @5sos-wdw @silverreading @the-lva-way @cupofnctea @khaleesi-of-assassins @bloomkings @pyromaniac-olive @lil-lex1 @sokkas--boomerang @cece-lives-here @coldlilheart @royahllty @astralsaf @not-a-glad-gladiator @damianwaynerocks @darkskin-buttercup @emogril @plutaars @duh-dobrik @harajukukitsune @kangaroobunny @harmlessoffering @rosetheshapeshifter @past-2am @welovediaaxx @dailytrashypanda @thenutellabreadsticks @sara5208 @whalerus @fanworrior @andrevvminyrd @travvestys @rosesandpines @cipheress-to-k-pop @starryzxko @justab-eautifulmess @mochminnie @whoevenfrickenknows @asianequation @booksandwonderlands @thesstuff @dekumiya @ya-fwiend-rainbow @spookities @394pitterpatterpotter394 @rockinearthbending-marauders @beardsplittler @kurt-nightcrawler @sifucuteness

740 notes · View notes

caws5749 · 3 years

Text

CH 13: Experimentations

A/N: I hope you enjoy, I’m very excited about where the series is going!

Your Red-Headed Mentor Masterlist

Tony watched from the window as you descended the plane stairs, making your way towards the crowd of agents. He felt troubled and on edge, as if something was out of place, just slightly amiss.

A twinge of guilt ran through him as he took in your expression. You were frightened, though you tried to mask it. But mostly, you just looked like you’d tried to rectify something. You looked as though you were turning yourself for your sins because it was the right thing to do, when you really hadn’t done anything besides fight your teammates and not add a signature to a piece of paper. He felt responsible.

When Tony saw you fall as a gunshot rang out, he was already halfway out the door, the Iron Man suit encasing his body. He should have known something wasn’t right.

Unfortunately, no matter how fast he flew, he wasn’t fast enough. You were taken away on one of the jets, and he hadn’t seen which one. He couldn’t get to you, so he did the next best thing, and got to one of the agents.

“Where the hell did you take her? What did you do?” he interrogated, pointing his hand at one of the leftover men.

“She will serve a greater purpose now,” the man smiled, before crushing something between his teeth and falling to the ground.

++++++++

“Hey, Tony,” Clint answered the phone.

“Hey, Clint. Listen, something bad happened.”

Tony explained what he’d seen while Clint silently panicked. After clearing his head, he promised Tony he’d start researching and reaching out to some old contacts about new groups that were in the business of kidnapping Avengers.

Within five hours, he’d found something, prompting him to give Tony a call back.

“Hey. I’ve got a location, and a purpose, but you’re not going to like it.”

+++++++

Your head was pounding, to put it lightly. A more accurate statement would be that it felt like someone was fiddling with a needle in your brain.

Were those voices? Was a mouse running all over your body or was someone jamming needles into your extremities?

You’d thought that your next session with the “Physical Specialist,” as the Red Room called him, was tomorrow, not today.

Forcing your eyes open, you immediately called out in fear. This man wasn’t familiar and neither was the room. You had no idea where you were, but you had a feeling it wasn’t good.

“Hello, pet,” the man snarled, his lips curling upwards in a way that sent horror through you.

You tried to gather your bearings as your eyes searched the room for anything that might give you a clue as to why you were here and where exactly ‘here’ was.

“You’ll find nothing,” the man pointed out airily. “You will not know where you are, nor will you know who we are. You will simply exist here, as my pet, until you are fit for duty.”

“And what might that be?” you asked.

“That is for me to know, and you to find out.”

You tried not to scream when he plunged a needle into your neck.

“That’s it, pet, that’s it,” he whispered, coming closer so that his lips were ghosting over your ear. You were starting to see black at the edges of your vision, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before unconsciousness reclaimed you.

“You may call me… Dr. Romanoff. That name means something to you, doesn’t it, pet. Does it make you feel alone? Sad that you cannot call upon her? It’s a shame, really. You’ll never see her again, until I make you kill her. Until I make you cut her open, slowly, and painfully, so that you have to watch and feel every cut of the knife as you tear your mentor apart.”

You couldn’t help it when tears flowed as the blackness consumed you.

++++++

“Wake up, my pet.”

You jolted awake, tugging at the shackles that bound you.

“I am afraid you are still trapped, sweetheart. But don’t worry, soon you will be able to exist in a special type of containment.” The man smiled sickeningly, and you felt nauseous.

Something else felt….wrong too, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. It felt like something was coursing through your veins and threatening to explode out of you at any moment.

“Do you feel it yet?” he asked. He didn’t wait for a response. “That power, flowing through your veins. The experiment has worked.”

Your heart stopped.

“What did you do to me?” you growled.

“You will soon see,” he grinned wickedly. “For now, I think it’s time for another nap. You may familiarize yourself with your newfound abilities when you wake.”

+++++++

“Come on, Nat,” Clint begged quietly as the phone rang for the fifth time.

“The subscriber you have dialed is no longer in service,” the automated voice finally said. He ran his fingers through his hair. She didn’t want to be found, and so she wouldn’t be. And normally that was fine, except for the fact that Clint needed her.

Natasha had no idea what was going on with you right now. She’d assumed the government had put you up in a cell in some high security prison, and that you’d either be broken out by Steve or released when - or if - things resolved. And she certainly couldn’t do anything about it, so she’d left.

Which would have been fine, if the government had actually been the one to take you. Unfortunately for everyone, you’d been taken by a unique side branch of HYDRA, formally known as EXIA. They were highly invested in human experimentation and artificial intelligence, and they weren’t going to let their major experiment be done on just anyone. Once they knew they could successfully perform an implantation of abilities on someone, they set their eyes on you. You were young, resilient, strong, and above all, a public figure. There was no better way to get EXIA on the map than by kidnapping an Avenger and performing a successful experiment on her.

On the other side of the world, Tony was preparing for your rescue mission. With intel from Clint that seemed legit, he’d asked Vision to accompany him to check out whether or not you were being hidden away in an underground base in Siberia.

“What if her mind’s been fiddled with?” Tony wondered aloud, tinkering with his suit.

“I would not be surprised if it had, Tony,” Vision answered, looking more somber than usual.

“We don’t know what we’re walking into.” It was Tony’s way of saying ‘be careful.’

“No, we do not. We will get her back, though.”

Tony nodded. He only hoped the modified robot was right.

++++++++

“Up!” a loud voice commanded as an alarm rang out loudly. You startled awake, your head fuzzy.

“Up, my pet!”

You were much too out of it to fight, so you opened your eyes, shakily standing. It was then that you took in your surroundings. The closest way to describe the room you were in was that it appeared to be similar to a giant shower.

The more you woke up, the more another feeling, a new one, took over.

“Do you feel that, sweetheart? It is your power. Let it out.”

You looked for where the voice was coming from, but apart from the speaker up in the corner, you couldn’t see him.

But the feeling was becoming overwhelming, and letting it out sounded like it would bring relief. The only issue was that you weren’t exactly sure what would happen if you did.

“If you do not, pet, I will force you.”

You took a second to consider your options, realizing you had none. You took a deep breath, before letting go. The second you stopped holding back, you couldn’t stop. You didn’t even have a minute to be surprised when water was the thing that came out of you. All you knew was that you needed to let it out, that it felt so good to relinquish control.

You even caught yourself with the barest hint of a smile, though suddenly a wave of dizziness came over you, and you collapsed onto the floor.

+++++++

“Got you,” Tony muttered to himself, swooping into the room and blasting all of the guards. He picked up your unconscious body, panicking slightly at the pale color of your skin. Shaking his head to clear all traces of anger towards the man who did this to you, he made sure you were secure before taking off.

Back on the jet, Vision tried to assess you while Tony piloted.

“She appears to be dehydrated. She will need an IV.”

“What the hell did they do to her?” Tony muttered, growing angrier by the second.

“I got a look into their laboratories, as well as a very unique room. I am inclined to believe she has hydrokinesis.”

“Water powers.”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“I’m guessing she’s not very good at controlling them yet,” Tony sighed. “What type of unique room?”

“It’s purpose was most likely a training space for her.”

“Did you get a good look at it? We’re going to need one of those.”

+++++++

“I know you’re out there.”

“I know you know I’m out here. So, are we going to talk like grownups?”

“Is that what we are?”

“Yelena,” Natasha breathed as she finally laid eyes on the woman she hadn’t seen in years.

“Natasha. What brings you home?”

#natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha Romanoff x femreader #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanov x reader #black widow x reader #mine #your red headed mentor #your red-headed mentor #Natasha Romanoff x youngreader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #black widow #avengers x reader #avengers #mcu #marvel

133 notes · View notes

drabbleitout · 2 years

Text

Find the Word Tag Game

Tagged by: @spacetimewraithwrites over here My Words: suffer, option, force, overlook, crack Tagging: @emelkae, @winterandwords, @rodentwrites, @idreamonpaper, @abalonetea, @sleepyowlwrites & anyone else who would like to join! (And as always please don't feel rushed or pressured!) Your Words: Final, Emergency, Height, Show, Trip

Suffer

“They said I knew, but I didn’t –I swear, Garnet,” Beau grabbed the front of his shirt, frantic energy causing his one intact eye to flicker, exposing the mechanical lens behind it. “I swear I would have told them if I knew. I just can’t find it!” “I know, bud. It’s okay. I know you would have,” he moved his hand across Beau’s back. “I’ll find it. I’ll fix it,” Beau whimpered. “Please don’t take me to a SoulMedic. Please don’t leave.” Garnet gathered him into a hug, crushing him close. He’d heard those words before, separated from his dying parents by a panel of glass. Left behind. Alone. Bryant had gotten Beau alone, jamming any means of contact or network connection to isolate him for no reason but to make him suffer. “I’ll find out what’s wrong. I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.”

Option(s)

“Yeah, I know him,” Ryker mumbled, eyes downcast. “He works with me.” “Do you have the means to take him home?” The nurse began tapping her tablet, marking things off as Ives agreed. Eventually, she turned it to him for an electronic signature, instructing him on things to monitor, who to call if there was a problem, and options in case there were issues. And then she was gone. Ryker said nothing, merely shifting his weight, sure it was due to pain. “Talk to me, please,” Ives said with care.

Force

“Initiate emergency brake! Override manual!” He threw himself backward, wedging himself behind the seats as the brakes and tires screamed. There was a cracking thunk as the engine possibly dropped out, transmission locking up the wheels as if hitting a wall. The momentum caused the rear end to slide around, tripping them into a roll. Fiberglass crunched, windows shattering with explosive force as they tumbled down the highway. Then it was still. Ryker coughed dust from his lungs, gathering himself from the inverted ceiling of the car. Crawling through the busted rear window, he shakily got to his feet. A minivan with an old lady idled in the lane in front of him, her jaw hanging open as she stared. He lifted his cuffed hands, offering one in a wave with another sputtering cough. She glanced at his uniform before cracking her window open. “A-are you alright, baby?” “Yeah, I’m” –he wheezed another cough– “I’m good.”

Overlook

“Uh-oh, look who's late,” Midland called from his desk, picking apart a bagel. “I still have thirty-five seconds until starting time,” Beau informed, noting the boy was missing his name badge. “You have cream cheese on your pocket,” He advised instead, moving over to his own desk. “Oh… damn. Thanks, Beau, doubt Thatcher would overlook that.” Midland swiped the blotch from his uniform, scooping it onto a finger before popping it in his mouth. Never had Beau witnessed someone with such little regard for what virulent microorganism could linger there.

Crack

POW! Ryker staggered, bowed over, tripping over his feet to crash back against a shipping container. Beau spotted the blood, scanning the trajectory point in search of the attacker. Ives twisted broadside to guard Ryker at the crack of another shot, jerking as it caught his shoulder. |Shots fired. Requesting ambulance and assistance to 2448 Boardwalk Ave. Suspect is armed and dangerous.| Beau reported, backing in close to Ryker, unsure where the shot had originated. “Get down, Captain.” “Five stories up, atop the blue container. Ryker, stay down,” Ives warned, lifting his pistol to fire. He pulled twice and froze up.

#Tag Game #tag games #wip: Tb

9 notes · View notes

penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories · 4 years

Text

No Matter How Many Skies Have Fallen

A/N: I really have nothing to say for myself at this point.

Sequel chapter to this fic here, if you’d like to catch up.

Thank you to @caffeine-in-an-iv for being my incredible beta and to @maybege for letting me rant to you and giving me so many wonderful ideas when I hit my walls. Also to the Obi-Wan fandom in general: Y’all are some of the kindest, most supportive people I’ve ever encountered on this hell site. Thank you for your support and your content!

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Force Sensitive! Fem! Reader (no Y/N)

Word Count: 11.9K (I lost all control)

Warnings: SMUT!!! Soft Dom! Obi rights, Also, Sub! Obi vibes, Foodplay (but not how you’d think), Inappropriate use of the Force, Voice Kink, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Hands Appreciation Society, As Usual: Too Many Feelings For Porn, Emotional Competence Kink, Trust Kink, TW: Pregnancy, TW: A character draws blood on themself unknowingly

Title from one of my favorite quotes:

“Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”

-D.H. Lawrence

What infinite irreverence the galaxy has for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

As if his master and only semblance of a parent wasn’t taken from him when he needed him most.

As if a boy who needed a father wasn’t entrusted to Obi-Wan quickly following, far too young and full of his own loss.

As if he wasn’t thrust onto the pedestal of parenthood when he really only wanted to be a brother.

As if that isn’t what they became anyway, and as if that wasn’t the exact cloud that hung over the atmosphere of your lives ever since you’d arrived on Tatooine.

As if the being whose life signature resided in your abdomen didn’t throw a punch into each of those blooming bruises by its very existence.

Which is why, you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you couldn’t tell him yet.

Normally, it’d be no small feat to keep something of this scale from him. But these days, he’s so focused on having his shields up around you, keeping you from both being hurt by or helping with his torments.

You have to take great care to control your body language, because even when he’s shut off from you in the Force, his keen perceptiveness will pick up on something being off anyway.

The art of a convincing lie is having layers. If he senses your feelings and decides to dig, then only give up one layer, and he’ll stop looking.

In this case, it’s your worry over him. It is true you’re trying to shield him from feeling that, not wanting him to carry the burden of it on top of having to work through his own pain.

But it’s not everything you’re trying to hide from him. So you let a small projection of your fear over his well-being escape, like you’re losing control of your feelings. It’s enough to convince him, and something critical inside you dies at the victory every time.

He deserves your honesty, and you’ve never given him anything less until now.

You hate how well your strategic deceit takes root. Because only part is due to your talent as a liar. The rest comes from how much he trusts you.

You’re not stupid, though. You know it’s only a matter of time before the biological changes in your body betray you.

Obi-Wan said he needed time, and you’re going to give him as long as you possibly can before dropping this anvil on him, hoping the further he gets from it all, the better off he’ll be.

You could kick yourself for not being more careful. You hadn’t missed any dose of your herbal Ho’Din contraceptive. It was one of the few things you shoved in your bag with the mere minutes you had to leave Coruscant for good. It was from a reliable medicinal shop, and there’s no good reason it should have failed in any way.

But here you were anyway.

Of course, there are options that free you from the obligation of carrying the child to term. All are expensive, and Tatooine is sorely lacking in any trustworthy medical facilities. The alternative methods could put your own life in danger as well.

Even if it wasn’t, you’d feel so strange making that kind of decision without Obi-Wan. Not that he wouldn’t support whatever decision you needed to make for yourself if you did, but going behind his back is something you’re not sure his trust could recover from.

And really, far too much has been decided for him in his life.

The worst reason why you can’t bring yourself to move towards any solution that ends the pregnancy now, the reason you abhor, is because somewhere within you, despite the awfulness of the time and place, you want this baby.

You couldn’t give a definitive explanation for yourself, but you did. Undoubtedly

Obi-Wan doesn’t press when you ask to cease your combat training for a time, asking to start learning the new offerings of the Jedi texts instead.

He’s concerned when you tell him, but if he’s suspicious as for your reasoning, he doesn’t show it outwardly, at least.

The way he doesn’t even ask about why, though: It makes you wonder if he had a reason all of his own why he’d rather not fight, even in imitation.

The Jedi writings given to Obi-Wan by Master Yoda are often more cryptic and mystifying than logically applicable without deciphering, which you are at first annoyed by, but then strangely thankful for, as Obi-Wan verbally processes his understandings of it, knowing what he does of the Jedi way, and you adding your thoughts from the stance of fresh eyes.

The conversations distract wonderfully, and you savor any way you still get to connect with him.

You don’t push for the ways he doesn’t allow you to connect with him anymore. The way he won’t let you in his mind. Because now, you too have a reason to not let him in yours.

*******

When it’s time to go into town for supplies again, you make up some feeble excuse which you know Obi-Wan sees through as a lie, and this time, he does pry, eyes soft and concerned. He knows you love going to the markets. You simply explain that you’re tired, which is true enough to satisfy him, leaving you behind with a kiss on your forehead before you watch him saddle up your eopie and ride off.

You sigh, sagging against the closed door once he’s disappeared into the horizon. You do love the markets. They’re the most colorful thing the planet has to offer, textiles and rugs and shiny, hanging things.

But the spices. Fragrant and potent, usually so appetizing and intoxicating, you know would turn your stomach alone. And that doesn’t even account for the strange meats being cooked at different vendors, and Maker help you if anyone was selling raw meat of any sort today. You’ve done your best to keep your nausea at bay, at times even tapping into the Force for centering when the world felt like it was rocking. But you know the market would be too much, too many variables.

It’s not a fast journey, even on the eopie, and you don’t expect Obi-Wan to be back for hours. Which is why when you hear a knock on your door, the tool in your hand clatters to the floor, as does the remnants of your project.

You quickly grab one of the long staffs you and Obi-Wan had only begun to use in your defense training, trying to recall the lessons as adrenaline begins to rush through your veins. Tatooine isn’t known for its pleasant company, and if anyone was going to try to rob your home, now would be as good a time as any.

The knock sounds again, and you shout from the inside, “What do you want?!”

“A peace treaty in the form of baked goods,” comes the feminine voice, one you recognize.

Opening the door, you lower the weapon in your hand as Beru Lars blinks at you.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were…” You step aside, gesturing for her to come in.

She waves a hand, dismissive. “I understand.”

You lead her over to the small living area as you fix two glasses of water from the kitchen.

When you set them down on the table, Beru speaks. “I apologize for the intrusion, if there was another way of contacting you before coming here…”

“It’s absolutely fine, I’m glad to have you.” You smile in what you hope is an assuring way. “Although, I’m surprised at it just being you. Where’s Owen?”

Her eyes flick to the stone floor. “He um… doesn’t exactly know I’m here. He’s out on a business deal today.”

You feel your eyebrows go up at that, waiting for her to continue. But instead, she changes the subject. “Where’s Ben?”

“In town. We needed some things from the market.”

Awkwardness settles in as a conversation topic evades you.

She breaks the beat of quiet. “Here, I brought these for you.”

You take the basket in her hands from her, peeling back the thick woven cloth to reveal a simple form of bread. It looks so appetizing your stomach clenches, and you instantly realize you haven’t had anything since breakfast.

But then the smell hits you, hard and powerful, and stars, it’s just bread, there’s nothing that should do that about bread, but you’re on your feet in a minute, forsaking the basket on the ground as you bolt to the fresher, barely making it in time to the sonic sink before you start heaving.

In a moment, you feel soft hands at the nape of your neck, gently holding back the fabric of your shirt and blowing cool air as you continue to wretch.

By the time everything has settled again, you’ve dealt with the aftertaste in your mouth, and splashed on your face with a precious cup of cool water, hot shame rises in your cheeks at how this must seem to Beru.

You wipe at your face with a rag, half muffling your words when you address her. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure they’re absolutely delicious, It really has nothing to do…”

“How far along are you?”

Your spine straightens instantly, and you let the cloth drop to the floor.

“I… what?”

Now she’s the one to flush. “My apologies, it’s just that it’s known for being a very gentle bread, it’s one my mother used to feed me when my stomach ached. If that smell turned you... I just assumed, and I shouldn’t have.”

Your lips purse as you consider your options. It’d be easy to say nothing, or just to nod.

“Two months,” you hear your own voice answer despite yourself. You’ve never been one for easy anyway.

A surge of emotion wells up in you at even being able to speak it aloud, aloud to another human, and next thing you know, to your absolute horror, you’re crying into your hands as your shoulders crumple in on themselves.

Why now, of all times? In front of Beru Lars? Whom you know accepted Luke with her husband without question because they couldn’t biologically have any children of their own?

“I’m… so… sorry,” You manage to choke out through the sobs, disgusted at your own lack of control.

At some point Beru must join you on the floor, patting her hand soothingly on your back. “Shhh, it’ll be alright. You’ll see. It’s not so bad having a young one around, you and Ben have so much to look forw…”

“He doesn’t know.”

Her hand pausing briefly on your back is the only indication she gives of shock.

“Would he not be happy?”

You take a steadying breath in, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t know,” you whisper, small and almost frightened to let the room hear you say it.

It falls silent again, but it echoes around in your brain, bouncing against your thoughts until you feel the onset of a headache.

After you’re to a numb enough state to enjoy yourself, you and Beru make tea and bring it back to the living area.

She lifts her glass to yours, clinking them. “To secrets kept from men and the mischievous company they bring.”

Your head now throbs with pain, but you smile anyway. “Thank you,” you say to her, and you mean it so very much.

********

The next time Obi-Wan goes into town, you’re feeling well enough to go with him.

You’re not visiting the food portion of the market, after all, so you’re not as much of a risk to set your stomach off. He’s taken to fixing small machinery for trading with the Jawas recently, the extra income helping with the projects around the house.

There’s a trap door that you found within the first day of being there. The staircase carved out of the bedrock beneath the hut leads to a small room that has now served as additional storage and a place for Obi-Wan to work. It’s also quite cool during the day, so if you can stand the smell of the various meats hung to dry, you’ll sit down there with some sort of project, or even reading material if you come upon it.

So today, he’s looking for a few specific tools that will streamline his working.

It doesn’t take long to find a promising stall among the maze of shopkeepers, selling everything from trinkets to weaponry of questionable legality. Obi-Wan finds what he needs easily enough, and it looks like the trip is going to be as efficient as it is successful as you walk through alleyways with him.

At some point, he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, projecting an assuring strand of affection toward you. It’s such a small gesture, but you’ll never tire of the feeling of his hand clasped in yours.

You’re almost back to where the eopie, Rooh, as he named her, is stabled when Obi-Wan abruptly slows his pace, dropping into a stall. An alarm goes off in your head when you watch him pick up a frivolous trinket on a table that you know he has no interest in.

You open your mouth to inquire at his actions, but it answers itself once you see him glance out of his peripheral vision to where the holonews plays in the stall adjacent.

Battle footage on what you recognized to be Kashyyk at the presence of the many Wookies plays with the Emperor addressing the viewers in a very two-dimensional, sugar-coated, thinly-concealed threat to any other world that would try to resist occupation.

There’s wreckage and uncensored violence, and you turn your head away.

“May it be known that Lord Vader is quite capable and willing to help those into compliance that require assistance... “

The item in his hands crushes, ceramic tile cracking into his hands, breaking the skin and drawing out drips of red.

But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even seem to register the glass he’s pushing into his own hand. His eyes are wide and he makes a wounded noise from the back of his throat, eyes peeled to the holonews now, not even trying to feign disinterest.

His signature sparks, giving a flash and then a severe cry of anguish, and it hits you then. Pieces of information coming together as you feel Obi-Wan tear apart at seams.

Anakin Skywalker turned to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan thought him dead. There’s a new Sith Lord now; the correlation and timing can’t be coincidence.

The Toydarian male behind the stall shouts something about paying for it in full, and you quickly hand over the credits with a glare.

You start to pull Obi-Wan’s other hand off the table, but you quickly realize your mistake in that.

The moment it isn’t holding his weight anymore, his knees start to give, and you’ve only a second to react, jamming your body under his arm to keep him upright. His momentum nearly pulls you forward, but you plant your feet and remember at the last second to call on the Force to assist you.

He seems to come to himself enough to walk somewhat as you steer him to the nearest alley away from the vendors.

He braces a hand on the stone wall, but even it isn’t enough as he drops to his knees. He doesn’t even seem to have the will to stand.

Crouching beside him, you place one of your hands on his chest.

“I…. I…” The tremor in his usually so crisp wording and steady voice crushes your chest, making it hard to breathe. “I failed him. I failed him.”

“Obi-Wan,” you start, trying to grasp at anything, everything to comfort him, not even thinking of how you can’t call him that here, even if there’s no one in sight.

If he registers your call, he doesn’t let on, continuing in his whispers to the wall. “He was burning. Burning, but I couldn’t do it. It would have been mercy to kill him, it was my mandate to do it, but I could not...” his voice gives out on the last word, and his shoulders fall forward in a shuddering inhale that transforms into a cut-short sob on its exhale.

“And now…” as the words pour from him, his shields fall, and so do the floodgates on his emotions, and it takes all the training you know to not be washed away in the torrential current of his grief. Does he even know he’s doing it, or has the insurmountable weight of his burden finally overridden his innate control over them?

“I’ve sentenced him to a fate worse than death.” He’s only barely choked out the end of his thought before his shoulders start to shake in earnest and he crumples in on himself as he begins to weep for his brother.

Giving no heed to the odd angle, you throw your arms around him. Trying to get your arms around his body is exactly the embodiment of the feeling of the moment, this anguish you don’t even begin to be enough to cover.

What could you say? What could you do? What would even begin to…

When you press your fingers to his temple, it’s light, a show of how unforced this is, how much he can say no if he needs. Because this isn’t for you. No, it’d be so much easier to not know the exact depth of his pain and rip your chest open with that knowledge. But you’re offering it, meaning it absolutely, desperate for him to take the hand offered to him. “Please let me in. Don’t do this alone. Let me…”

Then he’s pulling you in, not just letting you come in yourself, clinging to you like a person drowning. You remember to steady, to try to keep your own head above the water as wave after surging, overpowering wave of soul-crippling agony like you’ve never felt it engulf you in their surge.

You can’t hold out against it no matter how hard you try, so you refocus from centering yourself to pulling his signature into yours as you wrap your arms tighter around his torso.

And you begin to weep with him.

*********

The suns are drifting low by the time both of you have any intelligible thought, far too late to start the journey back to the hut.

At the inn, as Obi-Wan falls into the beginnings of a restless sleep, a thought emerges, clear and crisp in its awful truth.

You cannot tell him for a long while still.

*******

It’s different now. Because when he wakes in the night, he doesn’t give you falsehoods you see right through. He lets you into the terror and distortional dreams that all reside over one theme.

There’s silence in the first days after. Just silent tears and still embraces and the way time seems to freeze when grief is at its worst.

But then he starts talking. It comes in little pieces, then in larger ones.

The loudest thing his signature screams is guilt.

You tell him how it isn’t his fault, how Anakin is responsible for his own choices, but he just gives you a new reason every time as to why it is his fault, how he could have stopped it.

Because even in what he considers his worst failure, his verbiage is indicative of how it’s not his own image and pride hurting that he’s even considered. All of his thoughts, all of them, are on what Anakin needed that he didn’t give.

At first, it’s just impressions from his mind, unsorted, blurry thoughts and feelings, but it eventually begins to become words.

“After his mother died… I know that he blamed me. How couldn’t he? He told me of his dreams, dreams he knew were foresights, but I dismissed them, multiple times, at that. And the council… advised me against comforting him, but he… I… I did anyway.” His shoulders are forward, body sagging with unsureness that doesn’t fit him right in the slightest. “But it was far too late. I know there was something pivotal about the death of his mother, and I am...” he hesitates, seemingly not because he doesn’t know what to speak, but because he does. “Terrified. Terrified it’s all because I didn’t validate him sooner. If I had not...” His voice breaks off, as he shuts his eyes.

Fear is not something admired by the Jedi, you know. When he speaks of his own emotions, he speaks them like he’s confessing them.

And as he confesses and confesses, you comfort where you can, cry with him when you cannot.

*****

The swells of sorrow ebb and flow in their intense bursts and receding stillness, and despite the moments of not being able to breathe under the weight of it, there are miniscule, almost violating, hysterical intervals where smiles and life spring to the surface, gasping for air.

Or in this case, the inexplicable desire to dance.

You don’t even really know when you start, simply going about cleaning clothing in the sonic washer, and the next, some ridiculous, repetitive tune sweeps you to move your hips and feet, uncoordinated and graceless. The tune itself played from a datachip, scrapped with some pieces Obi-Wan was repurposing to make repairs. You’re not even familiar with the type of music, and it’s hardly the type of music you’d normally choose, but you find that today, it’s an improvement on the quiet that falls upon the house as Obi-Wan works outdoors.

The song swings into a bridge, and you slide across the stone floor, imitating something you saw in a music holo years ago, as you do, your foot catches on the rug you recently added, sending you fumbling for your footing. You eventually catch it before you fall, but as you look up, you decide to lower yourself to the ground anyway at the sight of Obi-Wan, leaning up against the door frame, watching you with an amused expression, the fingers of one hand tracing between his lips and chin.

You sit splayed as tactless and gangly as you danced and let out a short, startled laugh.

“Please, don’t stop on my account. I was quite enjoying myself.”

Maker, could you just hide under the rug you tripped over? “Please tell me you haven’t been standing there long.”

He pushes off his lean on the wall, crossing the room to you. “I won’t tell you lies, my love.”

Shame twists in your gut at his words, chasing the laughter in your throat away. But Obi-Wan extends a hand down, and you take it, letting him draw you to your feet.

He kisses the back of your hand before taking it in his, extending the clasp out to the side of your bodies as his other hand rests hot on the small of your waist.

“But I will join you, if you don’t mind a style change.”

“I don’t know how to dance like this,” you say, factually.

“Then allow me to teach you.” When you look in his eyes, they’re lined with the etches of heartache still, but there’s something else too, brimming to the surface.

“What, to this music?” You give your last, unconvincing protest.

He simply drops his forehead to yours, and the small sounds of the room fade to white as a sweet, moving melody replaces it. It’s not perfectly clear, and it takes a moment to realize that it’s because it’s coming from Obi-Wan’s memory.

The music has a distant, foggy quality, and it has potential to be eerie, but instead, it just lifts you into an ethereal feeling.

He steps, and your feet follow, not as graceful, but he makes it easy for you, the steps hinted out in his thoughts before taking them in actuality.

When you start to feel confident enough in the movements, you look up at him. “Does this mean I can teach you my dances next?”

He laughs, laughs, unabashed and with no emotion harbored under it, and some torn piece of your heart mends at the sound.

“Certainly not.”

You laugh too, even at the thought of him trying. The laugher rolls into a smooth quiet, and you let yourself bask in the feel of his body against yours, the press of his hand on your back as you rest your cheek against him.

Obi-Wan cradles you to him, forsaking the pattern of the dance as he encompasses you in his arms, lowering his lips to your cheek, then your mouth in a blazing kiss.

He takes your hand in his, lifting it above your head. Then you’re guided into a spin, and the room spins double with it as you abandon all endeavors of trying to get the dance correct. Your hand drops protectively to your belly before you can even think better of it, and by the time you know you’re not going to throw up, it’s too late. You already feel Obi-Wan’s unmistakable concern right before he asks, “What’s wrong?” extending an arm out toward you.

His complexion is ashen with worry, and when you don’t respond, you feel him start to reach out to your mind; a spike of panic zaps down your spine, and you’re suddenly not sure you’re not going to throw up after all.

Your shields crash down, not enough time for subtlety, and he retracts both his hand and inquiring tendril of energy as hurt and confusion shape his features.

You can’t do this. You can’t keep up this facade or cover this moment with a lie you know he’ll see through. But you can’t tell him either. After all the weight he’s carrying, the weight of the being that grows in you should be yours alone. You can’t thrust that upon him.

But it’s a delusion that you can keep this from him forever. You’re going to hurt him one way or another, and the weight of your silence and lies multiply every day you insulate him from the truth.

You take in a shuddering breath as dread settles into your bones. You know what you have to do.

Even as you slowly lower your shields, opening your signature, your mind screams at you in opposite directions, ripping you in half, and your hand shoots out to the nearest wall to stabilize yourself. How could you be so sadistic to tell him this? How could you not tell him? After all the trust you have in each other?

But he doesn’t take the invitation. “I will not touch your mind if you are still unsure you want me to,” he says softly but resolutely as he approaches you, but stays an unthreatening distance away, as if approaching a frightened animal.

No, no, no. You won’t have him being the one to sturdy you through this. You need to be strong, be ready, don’t force him to coddle you through the blast to his own chest.

So you dial down your own emotions and switch your absorption to amplifying the still tiny, barely recognizable life you’ve been carefully censoring ever since you heard it yourself.

You want to close your eyes, blockade the pain of both how it impacts him and how it will impact you, but that’s not how you two do things.

Summoning every iota of bravery and resolve running in your veins, you force yourself to look up at him as you watch understanding coat him.

His eyes go wide, and his hands clench and flex at his sides in an erratic, nervous pattern.

You can’t keep your signature open to his mind’s reaction, you just can’t. He’s seen enough, and you can put your shields up again. His face is enough to confront all on its own.

Obi-Wan steps toward you, slowly, dazed in a completely uncharacteristic way. With the way he seems to ever be prepared for the blows life throws at him, you hate how you have to be the harbinger for the second one that’s knocked him off his feet.

When he stops in front of you, he places his hands on either of your shoulders and looks into your eyes, searching for confirmation, and you nod, trying to not let fear seep into your expression.

One of his hands covers his mouth as he takes it in.

And then he’s sinking in front of you, off of his feet indeed, and onto his knees. You want to follow, ready to hold him through the heartache sure to follow, at the second child he didn’t ask for while he still grieves the loss of the first.

But his hands instead take purchase on your stomach, tightening the fabric of your tunic around the barely-visible bump before bunching it up and lifting, just enough so he can tilt his forehead against the skin there.

You can feel him reaching out, not taking him long at all to find what he’s searching for, and curiosity beats self-preservation at the last moment, prompting you to open your mind again, just for you to be able to catch elation coursing through Obi-Wan.

You don’t even bother trying to stifle your confusion as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

Sinking to your knees to meet him, you take his face in your hands, trying to make sense of it all as he takes your hand in his. “I never... “ when his voice comes out unsteady, he clears his throat and tries again. “I never thought I’d have... That we could… didn’t occur to me that now...stars above, how long have you known?”

You don’t recall when you start crying, but tears are falling freely down your cheeks as you shake your head. “I’m so sorry. I… I would never want to keep something like this from you, Obi-Wan, but I couldn’t tell you, not with everything, not with all you already have…and i’m so sorry.”

“Oh, heavens, no. You should not have to do this alone. Please don’t keep things from me, even if you think it to be for my sake. We can…”

You fix him with a pointed, unamused stare. He exhales as he must notice his hypocrisy.

“Your point is well-put and taken, but the sentiment still stands. We’ll not keep secrets from each other anymore. Do we have an accord?”

Despite it all, you smile at his overly-formal phrasing, something you’d normally have a quip about if it weren’t for the concern still nagging at you.

“Are you not angry then? Or disappointed?” you watch him carefully, praying to any deity listening that he doesn’t concoct some half truth to placate you. His first instinct is always to protect, but you’d never want it at expense of his authenticity.

Bafflement marks his brow at first, then he takes your face in his hands. “Darling, no.” He says your name, gathering every bit of your attention. “I dreamt of you. During the war, when I was away. I did not sleep well, even then, but when I did, I’d sometimes dream of you, holding a child that I knew to be ours. When I woke, I would remember it so vividly, so painfully, because I never thought that was an attainable future for us.”

But that doesn’t need to matter if you… do you want this child?” His eyes are so full of hope, and it was the last thing you expected, but here he is laying it down on the altar of your preference, and maker, are you glad those two things aren’t opposing each other.

Because his hope and yours are one in the same, and once he knows it too, at your whispering, choked, “yes,” he’s clutching you in his arms.

And for the second time in a month, you’re both huddled on the ground in tears. The first, bowing under the mass of catastrophe. Now, at the glowing relief of the sprouting of a dream sown in tears, too tender before to even say aloud.

But now? You’re saying it, back and forth, from him to you as your walls fall, permitting him into your mind as he welcomes you into his, and finally you take true comfort once again in the home you’ve built in each other.

*******

The night after, you lie side by side, hand in hand, on a blanket splayed not far from the hut. The suns have sunken, but the pinks and oranges of their palette still paint the sky where it hasn’t yet turned to midnight cobalt. The light of the lantern gives off a similar hue, dousing everything in your reach in soft, warm hues.

It has taken Obi-Wan some convincing, being so out in the open with everything he had to worry about wasn’t his first choice, but you compromised for a small alcove in the rock formations which surrounded you on two sides. More easily defensible. Not that he needed it, but if he was cautious before, it was borderline unbearable now. With the added danger of the Empire knowing without doubt that he lived. With more than ever to lose.

So, he was in charge of safety, you were in charge of snacks. And if they so happened to be almost entirely comprised of those melons you couldn’t quite get enough of lately? That was no one’s business except yours. You brought a few things you knew Obi-Wan liked too, of course.

What little remains of the miscellaneous spread you push to the edge of the blanket so you can both lie down.

“I dare say it’s almost pleasant out tonight.”

You turn your head to him, a snort ready at him discussing the weather of all things, but it instead forms a cloud in your throat at the sight of him.

His eyes are closed, hair rustling in the slight evening breeze, a tranquil ease over his profile.

The small patches of grey in the part of his beard next to his ears catch the first glints of moonlight in a way the rest of his hair doesn’t, giving them away.

The mellisonant lowness of his voice brings you back to yourself, cheeks heating.

“I can feel you staring, little one.” He opens his eyes, leisurely rolling to his side. “Some say it’s quite impolite.” Slanting over you, he lifts a brow, daring your response.

“And is that a problem?” You look up at him through your eyelashes, feigning innocence.

Obi-Wan’s gaze follows back up to the stars, as he plays right along, pretending to have to think on it. “I suppose it depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not you allow me to return the impropriety,” he responds with a coy smile, moving back to you, so close now you can feel his exhales on your cheek.

Warmth blooms through you as you answer back, “You can always look, Obi-Wan.” You lift yourself to close the short distance between your face and his, pressing your lips together, which he deepens right away. Using the hand not supporting half his body off of you still, he fans out his fingers across your belly, towing the line between caressing gently and clutching protectively.

You pull your lips back from his as an uninvited slither of insecurity slips into your chest.

He senses it, of course, so you speak before he even needs to ask. “Are you really, truly, certain this is what you want? Now? I don’t want you to just say so because…and we could wait, we have...”

“I am,” he says, adamantly, before you even have a chance to finish. His eyes flash to the side. “I…” He rolls back onto his back, looking straight up as he talks seemingly half to you, half to himself. “There is not much I know for certain these days. Some days… I scarcely can remember who I am anymore.”

He turns his eyes back to you, unwavering. “There are seldom few things I haven’t questioned of late, and my love for you isn’t one of them. And from the moment I’ve known, from the very first instant you let me feel the life within you, my love for them hasn’t been one either.”

Your thoughts split into two, one wanting to lean into it, to take him for his word that’s always true, and the other cautioning you, telling you to keep distant and watch for the surface level honesty he gives that hides the brutal one he safeguards you from.

But you’re not hiding anymore, feelings unconcealed in your energy and on your face, so he leans back into you, grasping your arm in his hand, squaring your shoulders to him. You cringe at yourself when you know he’s heard the impression of you questioning. It’s redundant, but self-doubt always is. “Know, please know, my darling.” Taking your hand in his, he brings it up to his temple with an insistence that you have no desire to counter.

And it’s there. Right there and sparking in its clarity, right at the threshold of his mind as you enter it. How much he means his words, no holds barred, no cleverly crafted glazes to an unly underbelly of reality. His reality was this, how severely he craves starting a family with you. How much he already loves the being within you, how he looks forward to the day he gets to hold them in his arms.

The fear is there too, quiet, but not kept from you. The fear of failing as a father, unsure of assuming any role that resembled a mentor again, all-too-familiar with the ghost that will float over him in every lesson he teaches.

What shocks you there is his faith in you. In how much he’s already learned from you about the impact of open affection, in how you don’t let your feelings lead you, but you let them breathe, not suffocate them. It’s part of how he even can acknowledge his fears to himself and to you without berating himself under the too-simple phrase “fear leads to the dark side.” There’s truth in it, but also inaccuracy.

Because he’s afraid, and yet, there is so much light in the acknowledging of it to himself, and in that very act, it loses much of any power it could have had over him. Oh, how deeply he wishes he could have articulated that understanding to Anakin.

The pain is fresh, but so is his anticipation for the future, swirling together in a potent drink, and his throat bobs with the effort to swallow them down simultaneously.

He knows you’ll help ground him through it, he trusts you, even in his uncertainty in himself.

It breaks your heart but also warms it: the knowledge that he lets you into that place where he keeps the questions of himself, the place only you and the man who’s caused most of this doubt have been permitted.

With a thankful short farewell, you part from his mind as you know exactly what you want to do.

The remains of your snacks still rest on the edge of the blanket, including the shells of the deep purple-pigmented melons. The one draw-back to their delightful taste was how badly they stained your fingers. You had to break them into tiny pieces, plopping them into your mouth without allowing them to touch your lips unless you wanted your mouth to stain too.

But right now? The staining quality was just what you needed.

Although first you needed a blank canvas.

“May I take your tunics off?” you ask, sitting up.

Despite a short twitch of confusion and then interest, Obi-Wan follows, raising himself up into a kneel, slightly lifting his arms in compliance.

The paleness of his skin catches all the light of the lantern, highlighting your view as you slowly slide the fabric up and off, gliding your hands up the line of hair dipping below his navel as it becomes more exposed. It grants you a quiet, steep intake of breath from him and you suddenly give halt momentarily, distracted by the alluring appetite you’ve created.

No, you won’t give in. Not yet. He needs to know this.

You take one of the broken pieces of melon rind in your hand, where little tart bits of the fruit still cling, dribbling pigment, but before your finger makes contact with the taut skin of his chest, you pull back at the realization you might have bitten off more than you can chew.

How do you even begin to describe him? Obi-Wan is so many things at once, so many attributes, and every descriptor that comes to mind falls blatantly short of him.

Then you recall Obi-Wan going through the motions of Alchaka, watching his body fight to maintain the poses at times. Being such a personal practice, you felt honored that he let you see him go through the exercises, and even more honored that he opened up to you about the purpose behind it later. It was an exercise of both physicality and Force use, and the goal was absolute exhaustion. That was the destination. Trying, knowing from the start that he’ll fall short in the end, but doing it all the same. Because there’s so, so much to be said for the trying.

So you do. You bring the messy fingertip to his clavicle, smearing the first word you know to absolutely be true of him, as if starting the premise with a whisper of I know you’re even more than the sum all of these singular praises.

The word “complex” appears in your penmanship on his skin as you drag it to life. You look up to his eyes, and his curiosity is clear there, but also so is the tenderness that is elemental to any time he looks at you. And just like that, you have your next word.

Kind.

And at the way he flushes so lovely for you at that?

Beautiful.

You feel his protest before you see it, the objection in his signature, and you know you’re going to have to switch methods.

Just then, a droplet from where you’ve written the last word on his pectoral falls, down, down, threatening toward the hem of his trousers, but you’re fast, dropping your mouth down and catching it all on your tongue before it can stain the bleached beige of his remaining clothing.

When his stubborn revolt at the affirmation quiets in his mind in exchange for a flash of searing lust, you know exactly how you’re going to continue.

Because Obi-Wan Kenobi, general, warrior, negotiator, Jedi Master, legend, has rarely ever been affirmed as such, and he squirms under the thick blanket of his humility and deprivation anytime someone endeavors.

So you need his mind to be preoccupied enough, guards down low enough, so he can even hear the message get through.

When you place your hands over his waistband, locking eyes in inquiry, stopping when he hesitates, scanning the area around you, vigilant as always. Overly so now.

“We’re alone. And wouldn’t you be able to sense it if we weren’t?”

He looks down at you as he answers. “If I stay mindful enough to do so, yes.”

Good, he’ll be even less prone to fight you if he has some of his mind sensing outward.

You look back up at him with the facial equivalent of asking “well?” to which Obi-Wan sighs in response. “Very well then.”

With your familiarity with ridding him of clothing, it only takes moments before you can finally taste him where you want to, where he’s already hard and swollen for you.

You know you won’t be able to take him as much as you want, a recently-developed overactive gag reflex preventing you. But it just so happens to be convenient tonight, as the resulting taunt should have him right where you want him.

A gentle kiss, right to the head of his cock is all the warning you give him before taking the whole tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him, pulling a choked hum deep from his throat.

Oh, oh, Maker, have you done a grand miscalculation, because you forgot an entire factor in this equation: the way you have been borderline hysterical in hunger for him.

You’ve kept so much from him, and part of how you’ve even managed is starting to convince yourself of less than fact. Facts like how many times you’ve had to change underthings recently, physical evidence of desire unwilling to comply to your head’s demands. Facts like how you’ve literally had to bite your finger to keep the feelings at bay.

You’d expected changes in your body even before your belly grew, but this was one you hadn’t anticipated. In some ways, it wasn’t that different than usual. You never knew you could want someone with the breadth that you want Obi-Wan.

But this? Of late? It feels like it’s been amplified tenfold.

You’re not keeping any cards close to your chest anymore, but you do have to ignore your own body’s screaming cries as you complete this.

He needs to know.

Nerves still serenading his brain with feedback, you re-wet your finger with the purple juice and write the next words across his abdomen.

Wise.

Perceptive.

He’s caught on to your scheme by now, cued by the all-too appropriate addition of the last word, and he lets you know it, an impression projected, speechless but still unobstructed. He’s still powerless against it. Or rather, letting himself be powerless. Trusting you with the control he has left, trusting you in his vulnerable places. The places where he’s weak.

Strong.

The word spread over his right upper arm, where he’s obviously just that. But may the tint of the word bleed through his skin, may it run through his veins, because that’s how deep and deeper still that his strength runs. It’s in the way he doesn’t flaunt it. It’s in the way he chooses to wield it.

Gentle.

He closes his eyes, flinching at the onslaught of acclamation, and you dip your head down again, wrapping your lips around his cock, letting him slide to where you can take him comfortably, just starting to build a pace as his hips squirm in harmony with his suddenly erratic breaths. Oh, how you’d love to let him deeper, allow his cock past your lips beyond the teasing amount you can take now, but the little writhes his body gives in protest are enough to almost make you okay with how your mouth won’t agree with your ambitions. He says your name, groaned out in bliss as he cups a hand on your cheek.

His barriers are down, so it’s easy to hear when his deprecating thoughts quiet again, and you switch back to coloring him again.

You know the moment you look up at him that it’s a mistake, because he’s flushed, so torn, suspended in the limbo of your give and withdrawal, mouth ever so slightly open, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

You’re only human, so before you draw anything else, you bring your lips to his, which is yet another mistake, because among the many things Obi-Wan is, he is a deep kisser, and as his tongue delves into your mouth, your will power takes a devastating blow.

You pull back, reeling at the reminder of how easily he can take back control, knowing you have to complete this before you let him.

Stars, how you want to let him.

For now, you need that control back, so you take him into your mouth again, filthily wet and not nearly long enough as you quickly pull back, watching in satisfaction as he heaves forward at the loss, correcting himself quickly back into straight posture.

With a smirk, you drag your slippery, pigmented finger across his lower stomach.

Disciplined.

There’s so many more words, so much more he needs to know, and if you covered every inch of his skin in the smallest writing it still wouldn’t be sufficient of all that he is.

Or you could whisper it all through the Force, embed it all in his mind.

But because you’ve been there, know his mind inside and out, you know every time he sees his own skin, all he sees is the red of blood on his hands. The blood of his brother.

And that’s exactly why you’re going to stain it in your own colors. Take back territory and push back the front lines that the army of guilt has taken over on him.

Your Jedi, ever-adorned in unassuming beige, now drips in the color of royalty.

Charming.

Humble.

Confident.

Steadfast.

You’re only left with enough space for one more word, and you want some sort of conclusion to it all, something to summarize the expanse of the man kneeling in front of you.

Nothing can.

But maybe, just maybe, one word encapsulates what he is to you.

Treasure.

This time you do chant it across his thoughts, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you.

Cerulean blue blinks open, slowly, almost painfully and nearly overflowing with emotion.

Thank you, is all he says, unable or unwilling to say it out loud, much too heartfelt and newly-budded for that.

You know his pain has older roots than those tended to in this moment, but you vow to yourself that you’ll never stop trying.

Lowering your mouth around him once again, you don’t tease him anymore, at least not intentionally, even though you still can’t take more than half of him.

“Look at you, you’re…” he hisses in a breath as you swipe your tongue against that vein on the underside of him. “Stunning. You’re doing so well, little one.”

The taste of him compels you as much as his words, seizes you in spice-like addiction, and how interesting it’s going to be explaining that taste craving to him, among your sudden adoration for those damn melons.

“Darling, I’m…”

You feel it in his energy before he says it, already pulling off, replacing your mouth with your hand, dropping your lips down even lower, mouthing at his balls, and the feedback is instant. An outpouring crest of his pleasure blasting outward as he lets out a depraved moan, netting his hands into your hair.

Your hand is wet and so is where he’s spilled on his still flexing and releasing stomach, clear white maring the lettering halfway through “disciplined.” You’d clean it with your tongue if you weren’t sure how your overly sensitive taste buds would react now.

It’s not the first time you’ve had sex since you’ve known you were pregnant, but it’s the first time since he’s known, and it’s the first time you’re not hiding the symptoms. Before, you carefully shied away from anything that might give you away, and between the preoccupation of everything on his own mind he was trying to keep from you and his respect for your boundaries, he never pressed. He had questions in his eyes, but you knew how to carefully reveal partial vulnerabilities to keep him off your trail.

Your chest flares at the memory.

We’re not hiding now.

It’s your chant, your reminder, your comfort. How nothing of this caliber will be kept between you again.

His eyes confirm it, sincere and exact as they fight to break through their dazed slipping.

Never again. His voice in your head is home, so consoling it can and has put you to sleep before.

Right now, it wakes you up in a different light, dowsing you in heat as Obi-Wan takes your hand in his, wiping it on a piece of his discarded clothing before wiping the spend off himself.

Then he’s taking your face in both his hands tilting you up before kissing you soundly.

I love you, he says across the wire that ties your minds, the wire that keeps growing stronger every day. So, so very much.

You say it back, a fact as simple as breathing. You love him.

You want him, borderline need him the way you need your next inhale, you don’t say, but he must hear it anyway, because that cocky little smirk that’s been gone far too long is back.

“Shall we do something about that?”

You’re about to just lift your shift dress up and off in response, but he halts you, grasping your wrists.

“Allow me.”

He pulls you into another sultry kiss, completely neglecting the task of ridding you of clothing.

Or so you think.

There’s buttons all the way down the dress, and you’ve never used them, always wondering at their purpose if it can so easily lift over your head.

At first, you don’t even know he’s doing it until you start to feel the coolness of the night air on your nipples. Opening your eyes, you pull back from him to watch as seemingly in thin air, your buttons undo themselves.

“You needn’t seduce me further. You already know how much I need you,” you gasp, breathless from the kiss.

Obi-Wan just gives a small smile as he drops a hand, dragging it down your side, then down your thigh. “Hm. So impatient. All this from just pleasuring me?”

Maker, he knows! He knows that you are. You always have been, and it’s not as if you weren’t projecting your feelings too.

When he reaches a hand between your thighs, parting them and making a single, tempting stroke through them, his fingers come back glistening.

“I should think you could feel that I am.” You let the tide of your frustration spill over into your connection to his mind.

You know he had to hear you, but he gives no indication that he did.

“Mm. Desire needn’t always be indicatory of impatience,” he punctuates his statement with a hand at the base of your skull, tipping your head back to expose your neck. “I need you to be patient, little one. Let me savor you.” And with that, his mouth makes contact with your neck at the same time his other hand plays with one of your exposed nipples.

You whimper at the attention, quietly pleading with him for more. Among the still slight changes to your body, this has been the most notable one. How sensitive your breasts have become to even the scrape of the fabric of your clothing.

And with the rough pads of his fingers working only one, leaving the other to pang in want...

“Obi-Wan,” it’s a prayer, a request. He doesn’t need his hands to cause sensation, and you’d beg him right now if he asked.

He lets up on your neck, only barely, lips moving against the now throbbing skin. “Answer me first.”

Clearing your throat, you give the most cogent response you can muster. “Depends on if you’re definition of savor is synonymous with torture.”

He locks eyes with you then, gently grasping a breast in each of his hands, dragging his thumbs over the nipples as you moan out your assent.

His chuckle is far too self-satisfied to be becoming of a Jedi, but you’re already too far gone to call him on it.

“Is that what you want, little one? For me to torture you so?”

An affirmative whimper is all the response you can give, and Obi-Wan reacts quickly, taking your chin in his fingers and tilting your eyes up to his again.

“Then you will be patient for me. Because I’m always happy to stop, and we can begin again when you decide to adhere.”

Your brain short circuits on the spot, and all energy is redirected much, much lower. His voice, stars above, his voice when it takes a commanding tone.

It’s intimate, it’s personal, and yet this game is almost inappropriately playful for how sincere the moment is.

But such was being loved by Obi-Wan. Full of dissimilar feelings that shouldn’t fit, but moved together in liquid consistency. Like metaphors that didn’t rhyme but still somehow gave their own life-giving rhythm, not dissimilar to the sound of his heartbeat when you lay your head against his chest at night.

Making quick work of the remaining buttons of your shift and underwear, he beckons you to join him as he lies back down, large, warm hands guiding you to turn around so you’re facing away from him.

You know that the purple stickiness of the fruit will smear from his body to yours like this, but you can’t at all bring yourself to care.

You gasp a sigh of relief as one of his hands finds your breast, brushing a knuckle over the too-sensitive nipple.

“Please.” Your whispered beg sounds pathetic, even to your own ears. But as you arch against him in a frenzied attempt at skin contact, Obi-Wan juts his hips forward, grunting into the exposed column of your neck, and stars, yeah, maybe he didn’t find that so pathetic after all.

“What do you want, darling?” His voice doesn’t divulge any desperation, and for only the hundredth time do you envy his immaculate self-control.

“You know, don’t pretend you don’t.” Leaving any doubt to the wind, you push your chest against his barely-touching hand.

“Specificity can be a virtue; that I also know.”

You change techniques, driving your hips back softly into where he’s hard and insistent against your ass, hoping it compels him.

Then you simply… can’t anymore. You’re frozen, unable to move your lower half at all.

Tangling your desires into a knot and tucking it away, you find the mindfulness to reply. “Yeah, so is mercy.”

“Indeed it is. I shall concede when you do.”

You won’t win a battle of the wills with him. You’re not sure anyone could.

So you bring his hand over to your nipple. “Touch me here.”

You feel his smile without even seeing it as he starts tweaking the bud. “Like this?”

It’s so much sensation, all concentrated on such responsive flesh, that you want to beg for him to switch to touching you between your legs.

You haven’t even finished the thought when you feel his unmistakable metaphysical brush against your thigh.

Extending a tendril of your own energy, you invite him in, and he takes it eagerly, ever as eager if not more to be entwined with your mind as with your body.

He hears it all, the besottment, the arousal, the neediness. The panic that he might drag this out longer, that you’ll have to go a single minute longer without...

“It’s alright. It’s alright.” He sends soothing waves through your connection, and he swaps the positioning of his hand with the curl of power. He turns his hand so that the back of it runs through where you’re aching for him, gathering up your slick on the backs of his knuckles. You have to contort your neck to see what follows when he takes the hand back behind you, and your mouth goes dry when he sucks the knuckles in between his lips.

You want to hear, you want to know what he’s…

He’s welcoming you in, navigating you to the brink of his mental barriers, letting you take that final plunge into the unsuppressed fullness of your bond to each other.

Now it’s your turn to hear it: how his carefully constructed unaffected persona is not at all a match for his naked, wanton need for you.

And under that, the foundation on which that desire is built, not the product of it, is his love, his unyielding, unashamed, iridescent love for you.

It’s all you can do but to pour it back, affirming and soothing and calling his love into action with your own.

You both don’t want anything else except the most complete of entanglement, and that’s exactly what he moves to do, situating your bodies, hiking your top leg in the crook of his arm as you feel the initial breach of his body into yours, and all breath leaves your lungs in an exhilarating evacuation.

His audible gasp is an echo of his emotions, how he thinks he’s prepared for this onslaught of feeling, but how you take him off guard, how his equilibrium threatens to teeter every time.

The web of his consciousness enveloping you, it’s easy to pick out a single thought blaring within him: How much he adores the way you fit together. Your back against his chest, how your breast fits in his hand, how the snug joining of where his cock presses into your body sends you into trembles, how comforting your very presence is to his soul when he lets you in like this.

Tears, without warning, seep out of your eyes as he starts to move against you, slow and deep. You close your eyes, willing the powerful emotion away, but glimmers of light flash out behind our closed lids the moment you do, and how the kriff does he stay composed?

Anchor. Anchor against me.

He stills, letting you have a break from the barrage of pleasure blinding you as you search him out, looking for the cords of his intellect that seemingly both steam downward and beam upward, grounding him.

You find it, and you clasp on tightly.

But the moment he starts moving again, you lose sight of it all over again.

Your heightened hormones make your flesh so susceptible, and the tears start to fall again. Obi-Wan rolls your nipple in between his thumb and index, and he’s so good, and you’re so full, and you can hear his pleasure as your own, adding, doubling everything…

Scorching, electrifying heat speeds through your veins, hitting hard and fast, leaving you astounded and even more sensitive than before.

Obi-Wan’s signature spikes as your climax resounds through him, and you can feel the vibration of the wanton noises he’s making right where his beard scratches against your neck.

But he doesn’t allow it to overtake him, letting it run through him without resistance, making himself pliable but unmovable, keeping himself back from the edge.

You still have much to learn.

Because that control? Gives him the ability to not even stop, not even hesitate once, even at both yours and his own ecstasy flowing through him.

When he starts striking his hips hard into yours, the weight of him inside you dragging exactly in the right place, you start to cry in earnest. Obi-Wan stops for a millisecond, concern radiating off of him, even when he can hear how much you want this so clearly, has access to every little passing thought.

“Don’t stop, I’m fine, I pro…” He does just as asked while moving his hand down to your belly again, a soothing touch to his rough thrusts. Your eyes are blurred with wetness, overwhelmed with him.

He’s listening to it all, applying every micro-feeling of feedback into action against your desperate, post-orgasmic skin, hand switching back and forth from your nipples to loosely clutching your neck, Force energy focused on applying pressure to your clit.

“You’re doing so well, so good for me,” comes the wisp of his sultry tone, lips pressed against your ear.

Since you aren’t even thinking about changing position, you know it’s his own preference that has him withdrawing, guiding you onto your back.

There’s no inhibition this way, not the way there is when you’re on your side, no separation from your bodies being flush when he pushes into you again. You have to anchor in him, both mentally and with your fingernails clawing at his shoulder blades as your body starts into tremors.

He’s keeping the weight of his chest off of you, even though your belly is still barely swollen into distinguishable roundedness, and as much as you miss the contact, you can look into his eyes like this, can see the unfiltered attachment and all the weight of all the emotion he wills his body to not cave under.

But then the tremoring transforms into series of contractions throughout your body, centering through your slick core, and you thrash your head to the side catching a glimpse of Obi-Wan’s fingers clenching into white knuckles, grasping into the exposed sand from the blanket being bunched up.

He projects his thoughts across the tether to you, how thoroughly impacted by the very fact you’re carrying his child, how affected he is by every little thing about you, honored that he’s allowed to touch you like this.

You roll your hips back up into his, and that’s what it takes. His stuttering body is the lightning, and the searing, molten pleasure across your connection is the thunderous repercussion.

It completely overthrows you, and your body bows against him as his high instantly cues yours again.

You can feel him throb inside you at the very moment you do, his turn to experience the secondary sensory white-out of your mate’s climax through the Force, his shuddering shout meeting your breathy whines in the close distance between your mouths.

And he does kiss you then, soundly but with the haze of afterglow slowing it.

“Have you any idea how bewitching you are to me?” He breathes it out, and despite all the ways you’d normally scoff at such words, his eyes tell the story, and you listen to it’s truth.

His eyes hold that constant infiltrating study of you, the one that could be unnerving if his mind, still tethered to yours didn’t hold such amor, heart bleed such fondness that settles in the creases around his eyes.

How interesting it is watching someone as knowledgeable as him having such an inquisitive outlook on life, and being so frequently the object of those investigations.

Did the galaxy know her debt to him? Did she know the sum owed to inflicting the worst of life’s pains on someone who refused to let it build anything except an even gentler man of himself? When does she plan on repaying him? What does she offer in exchange for her cruelty of the hand she’s dealt Obi-Wan Kenobi?

Then the whisper comes, soft but crisp, from somewhere in the threads of existence around you, “Can’t you see? It’s you, child.”

You could argue it. You could scream how it’s not enough, how you’re not enough, how he deserves so much more from some dark insecure place inside you. Or how love shouldn’t be treated as currency in exchange for pain, how the galaxy could still have your fists if that was how it tallied.

But the finality of it settles in your soul, more impressionistic than in solid wording: there is no easy conclusion that ties the suffering of life into purpose, no experience that erases or mends its pain. But love. Love makes the complicated endeavor of trying to find purpose in the madness worthwhile.

Obi-Wan’s hum of agreement resounds in your ears and through to your head. His Force signature feels so familiar, so at home within yours and yours within his, that you’d briefly forgotten he could still hear you.

With all the strength still left in quaking limbs, you wrap your arms around him, and he melts into it.

The compassion of his soul hardly matches his war-ravaged skin, his guilt-ridden memories. Every good thing here came to be with a war waged, refined and not burnt away in fire at his sheer tenacity.

It’s a growing thing, blooming in the desert. The beliefs in both of you. Your love for each other. Your own trust in the Force.

Healing is no short journey, but her two sojourners here are determined.

And if that tender hope can blossom here?

Then maybe, just maybe: Tatooine is exactly the place for a baby after all.

*********

In the valley beyond the hut, a boy jets quickly away in some mechanical contraption he recently motorized, a girl in a similar vehicularized compilation of junk not far behind.

On the cliff’s edge stands Obi-Wan, eyes scanning the landscape intermittently for any sign of threat between longer affectionate looks at the children before him.

He turns, feeling your approach in his keen awareness as you set a hand on his shoulder from behind. His temples are now even thicker with sun-bleached silver, and his eyes wield the lines of laughter around them.

And you? You’re as roped in by his gravitational pull as you’ve always been.

He puts a hand over yours, clasping it to bring you in front of him, where he can still watch the children and encase you in his arms at the same time.

“Slow down, Luke! You’re going too fast!” comes the distressed cry of your daughter, Ahlina, drawing your attention away from admiring Obi-Wan and back to the valley. Her vowels curl in the same way her father’s does, but her more casual phrasing was certainly thanks to you. Luke shouts back at her, “Come on, keep up!” while he races on ahead.

Obi-Wan smiles, seemingly amused at a secret joke.

“They are much too young for this nonsense still,” he speaks, muffled slightly as he hides his lips in your hair.

“Probably,” you reply with an airy laugh.

Not long after, the engine on Luke’s small contraption gives out, jutting him off and tumbling forward into the sand.

“I told you!” Ahlina yells, her own machine coming to a halt not far away from Luke.

When they make it back up the cliff, Obi-Wan couches and opens his arms, and they both come running with smiles. They’re still young enough to be unshy about affection, and Obi-Wan knows to soak it up, closing his eyes in relishment.

Luke is the first to wiggle down, waving before running over to hug your leg, which you happily return, brushing some of the blonde mop of hair from his forehead. You adored the nights that the Lars let him sleep over.

Although the nights that Ahlina slept over at theirs certainly had their allure too.

“Can we have a snack, Daddy?” Ahlina asks, still happy to be hoisted up on one of his arms.

“Hm. Perhaps I can make some of those ahrisa sweet breads again?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Can Mommy make them?”

“Why not mine?”

“Because you always burn them.”

He bops a finger lightly on her nose with a smile. “Cheeky.”

She goes to bop him on his nose in return, but he catches the finger, holding it.

“Give it back!” she screeches through a giggle.

“No, no. I think I’ll keep it now.”

The suns are dipping low as you retreat into the hut, the two children running ahead, racing to gather the ingredients to help you bake the bread. Luke especially was an enthusiastic sous-chef.

You step to follow them, but Obi-Wan grasps your hand. You turn back to him, and he barely gives you a second before he joins his mouth to yours. Sliding a hand into the auburn beard, you open your mouth to him, letting his familiar taste permeate your senses.

He reluctantly breaks after a long moment, and you take his hand in yours. When you turn back to the horizon, the suns are dipping, blanketing the landscape in the most celestial light of the day.

The planet’s eyes aren’t harsh in the way you used to see them. They’re still intense, and frequently unforgiving.

Perhaps they never changed. Maybe only you did.

But as they sink now, you give a silent, partial farewell, knowing they’ll greet you again in the morning.

Because if Dark’s patience is infinite?

So is the promise of the return of the Light.

Tagging upon request: @million-dollar-legs

#obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi wan x you #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi wan smut #obi-wan smut #obi-wan #obi-wan x oc

560 notes · View notes

yongtxt · 4 years

Text

hundred [johnny]

word count: 4.5k words

characters: boxer!johnny x doctor!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: blood/wound/stitches mentions, johnny hates hospitals but he likes the pretty doctor, [im not a doctor nor a boxer pls dont say that i have info wrong because I Know]

author’s note: i know this isnt long to some of u but to me it is and i havent written this much for so long im so proud of myself for finishing this:( it isnt that good but this is the first long fic ive written in a while and shhsdjk also i needed to get this out of my system ive thought about this au since that jcc came out where johnny and hyuck was doing muay thai plssss (i couldnt find a better gif tho) ok this is getting too long / feedback is appreciated tysm

Johnny Suh hated hospitals with a burning passion.

It wasn't from a past trauma nor was he afraid of it, it wasn't that serious. He wasn't exactly sure what the cause of it really was. If he had to make a guess, it was probably from the accumulation of the little things, the insignificant factors people would usually dismiss but bothered him enough that it contributed to the big hatred he built for hospitals.

Maybe it was the distinct smell of hospitals, it reeked of death and old people. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the fluorescent-lit hallways, always gloomy and heavy. Maybe it was also the fact that the fees were so expensive and yet the food they provide tasted horrible, even the coffee was a hit or miss. The only upside he could think of was people get better in hospitals, but even that wasn't assured.

Despite how much Johnny despised hospitals, he always finds himself coming back. If he wanted to get better, he had no choice but to go. He would endure the gruesome process over and over again whether it be to treat his wounds or to stitch his cuts.

With his jaw littered with small bruises and his lips busted at the corner, he sat impatiently on the hospital bed as he waited for his doctor. He was fiddling with his fingers, knuckles bruised the same way his face was. He looked beaten up, he always did.

The clothes he wore contradicted the state he was in, they were fresh and laid back. He looked like a college student from the way he dressed. A delinquent more like, if one considered his cuts and bruises. Before heading to the hospital, he always makes it a point to shower and make himself appear presentable to the public. Although no one really bothers to take notice of his effort, only him.

The sliding door opened and Johnny's attention shot up from his phone, his gaze meeting with yours. Your head popped in, peaking through the small crack you made. Your eyes lit up in recognition as it always did whenever you see him.

"Youngho-ssi?" You spoke almost as if it was a question, voice barely above a whisper to make sure you were in the correct room, about to tend the correct patient.

Johnny didn't understand why you always did that, call out his name as if this was the first time you were seeing him. At that point, you've been already acquainted with him enough due to his numerous trips to the hospital. Either way, he nods every time.

You gave him a small smile, widening the door enough so you could enter. You wore a white lab coat, a name tag pinned to your chest and a stethoscope hung around your neck. You were small, although anyone compared to him was bound to be comparatively smaller – that wasn't the point, you looked young and that never fails to astound him every time you go through the door.

You had a clipboard in your hands, scanning through what he assumed to be his condition that a nurse had written earlier after a quick checkup and disinfection of his open wound. Your lips were formed on a tight line, eyebrows furrowed. He continued to stare at you with such amusement.

"You don't have to answer my question, Youngho-ssi, but why are you always here?" You finally broke the silence, startling him in the slightest. You never bothered to ask before, always just offering smiles and small talks while you did your work; maybe his sudden regularity of coming to the hospital recently made your curiosity peaked.

He couldn't blame you. Anybody would be curious why a 24-year-old man keeps coming back to the hospital with no clear explanation.

He cleared his suddenly dry throat, he never liked saying his job. He said, "I box for a living."

"Ah, that makes sense!" Your eyes visibly glimmered, absentmindedly jotting down notes on his medical records. "My coworkers and I thought you were in a gang or something."

"I don't think I would be allowed to be here if I was." He chuckled, making you giggle as well.

"Seo Youngho, 24, minor lip laceration in need of immediate suture." You read of his data from the clipboard, almost comically. It was medical terms he was unfortunately already too familiar with, to him, it basically meant that he had a busted lip that needs to be sewed shut.

"You can just call me Johnny. Youngho sounds too formal to me." He said nonchalantly. You nodded your head to his simple request; it probably was best if you got to know him better since he frequented the hospital so much.

"Alright, Johnny. We'll start the process now, okay?"

With keen eyes, he watched you slip on a pair of surgical gloves. You grabbed a tissue from the metal tray that sat beside him and began folding it into squares. He felt his heartbeat quicken, he hated getting stitches or any form of medical treatments for that matter, but as morbid as it was, he thought of it as punishment for his recklessness in the ring.

"Isn't boxing just, I don't know, senseless violence?" You asked, tone dripping with pure innocence and unadulterated interest as you gently dabbed away the remaining dried blood the nurse failed to clean earlier.

"It's a sport, it's how I bring money to the table." He pursed his lips, ignoring the twinge of pain that surged through his nerves. He visibly relaxed when you placed a hand onto his shoulder to reassure him.

Ever since the first time you got assigned to him, the first thing he took note of was the softness of your hands. You handled him as if he was fragile glass, despite how he easily towered over you. He felt pathetic as a 24-year-old but your gentle touches would greatly help put him at ease.

"I guess. I didn't mean to be rude." You were hesitant, Johnny could tell but he was glad you didn't push on any further. He couldn't handle explaining his occupation when you were about to pierce his skin. "Okay, Johnny, now that your lip is clean and the anesthesia had seeped in, we'll start. I think you know how it goes by now."

"Make it quick, please." He nodded, squinting his eyes shut at the mere contact of a surgical pen grazing over his gaped lips. You were relieved that his cut wasn't too big, you couldn't stomach the idea of putting him in too much pain for longer.

As you picked up the tweezers and string of nylon, you couldn't help but laugh at the six-foot boxer in front of you who was clearly petrified of getting stitches, "This will be done as soon as you know it. You won't really feel it because of the anesthesia, remember? Now count to a hundred backward for me."

Once the numb feeling of nylon dragged through his lips, he swore he saw white spots flicker in his vision. His eyes immediately watered and he tried his best not to squirm under your hold, beginning to count to a hundred backward like you had instructed him to. You admitted it to him the first time you stitched him that it was a trick that you learned from your pediatrician friend. Despite it being for children, it helped to get him distracted while you focused on your job.

Minutes felt like hours, Johnny had been fighting the urge to punch something, anything, to release tension and nerves. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a peak and tried to take his attention away from what was currently happening on his lip. His gaze landed on your pretty eyes, how it was narrowed in focus and how your lashes perfectly framed it.

This wasn't the first time he'd observe you up close, there had been many occasions in the past that you had been too close for comfort in order to tend his wounds. It had been too many that it was almost as if he was close to memorizing your features. You were not only beautiful but you were also a smart and capable doctor.

Eventually, you finished and started to rub ointment on his sore lip — the finishing line.

"Try not to eat anything spicy or hard. You know the drill." You grinned at his suddenly pale features, ripping off your gloves as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the room. "You're good to go. Be careful next time."

He let out a shaky breath, clearly still winded up from the procedure, "I'll try. Thanks again, doc."

The punching bag felt great against Johnny's fists. There wasn't a feeling in the world that could compare to the impact of leather slamming against his skin. He could last hours mindlessly pummeling the bag if his stamina just allowed him to.

Hyunsik, Johnny's manager and personal trainer, drew away from the punching bag he held in between his arms. He let out a breath and held out a hand to motion that Johnny has done enough.

Johnny was hurting, Hyunsik could see that much. The bandages he had wrapped for the boxer's fingers were turning into a shade of red that they were all too familiar with.

Hyunsik clicked his tongue, "You should've used your gloves."

"How can I grow stronger if I keep relying on them?" Johnny rolled his eyes. His muscles needed a boost and this seemed to be the only logical way to strengthen them — a little blood never hurt anybody.

"Someday you're gonna fracture your hand and you'll be forced out of the ring. Remember that." Hyunsik huffed, his voice stern. "Take them off, I'll clean the blood off."

Johnny reluctantly did as told, unfurling the bandages wrapped around his fingers. The pain was excruciating when the fabric grazed along his tender skin, he winced at the unsightly view of his reopened wounds.

Hyunsik led him back outside of the ring to the benches where the first aid kit was. He made the boxer sit down so he could start cleaning off his wounds. It looked horrific, more so than it usually did and he had no choice but to break the news to Johnny.

"It looks really bad. You need to go get that checked in the hospital and have it sewed back." Hyunsik said, taking a wet towel and carefully dabbing it across Johnny's bloodied knuckles.

He didn't want to go to the hospital. Going to the hospital to have his wounds treated meant that Johnny would be medically required to take days off work to let his hand heal. Johnny frowned, "Don't you have an ointment or something that could help? I can't afford to lose a day of practice."

"Don't you think I know that?" Hyunsik rolled his eyes. "As your manager, I want you to be in top shape for your match next week, even if it means sacrificing a day or two for you to heal."

Johnny could only nod. He sat through Hyunsik's lecture on the changes he should make to his dietary plan and the exercises he should do during his temporary break. It infuriated him that he couldn't do anything about it but nod along.

The incoming match that was set next week would make or break his career as an underground boxer. He didn't have the option of missing it because of some measly reopened wounds. If he had to rest to get better, he had no choice but to suck it up. This was his fault anyway for pushing himself too much.

Johnny showered in the locker rooms and changed into nicer clothes that didn't reek of blood and sweat. His hands were stinging but he shook it off.

He ignored the concerned looks other boxers were giving him and begrudgingly made his way to the hospital to get himself checked in. You wouldn't be happy to see him all bloodied again, he thought.

Much to Johnny's surprise, it wasn't you who was assigned to him. It was a much older doctor with graying hair and a nose stuck too far up in the air. She was rude and condescending, her lack of politeness to her patients was quite appalling. If Johnny wasn't in such a bad mood, he might've complained already.

God, this day couldn't get any worse.

With a meek voice, Johnny asked where you were and at the mention of your name, his doctor gave him a narrowed look. She sneered, "She's handling much more important cases. Does she know you?"

"I think so." Johnny gulped, unsure of the answer himself.

The doctor's grip was tight and she was hasty. It was as if she was trying to speed through the process to just get it over with. Johnny wanted to cry because he was starting to get traumatized by this doctor's procedure, he didn't want to hate the hospital more than he already did.

He internally screamed for your name as he watched the doctor pull on the gloves. The sliding door harshly whipped open and there you were in all your glory, like an angel sent from above to save him from the devil incarnate who was about to pierce his skin.

You were panting and the sheen on your forehead made it obvious that you ran your way to his room. Johnny's heart leaped with glee.

"Unnie, I'll handle him." You said, unable to catch your breath as you made your way inside. "I think the ER needs you more than me."

The doctor seemed hesitant at first but you tried to convince her otherwise. She eventually agreed and left you with Johnny who had a cheesy smile on his face the entire time since you've arrived.

"So Johnny, what happened this time?" You asked, picking up the clipboard that sat next to him on the bed.

"I overdid the punching during training and it reopened some old wounds on my knuckles. It hurts like a bitch."

You pulled a face, "That's a bit intense."

He chuckled, "It's normal."

"Can I please see it?" You opened your palm so he could place his hand on yours. You observed his cuts and the scabs that were beginning to form around it, it was too deep to let it heal on its own so you made the verdict that he needed to get it sewed back together ⁠— as unfortunate as it was since he was a boxer and he needed his hands to box.

You tugged on a new pair of gloves and began the painful procedure, Johnny started counting down even without you instructing him to. You quickly got to work and stitched back his wounds with your lip in between your teeth

Johnny felt squeamish, he could never get used to the feeling of stitches. His eyes were glued shut and he mumbled numbers like it was mantra.

Once you were done, you smiled fondly at your work. You managed to get by with fewer stitches and you felt pride swell up in your chest. Johnny noticed and, as lightheaded as he was, couldn't help but smile as well.

"You're pretty good."

"At stitching?"

Johnny nodded with his cheeks flushed, he made a mental reminder to smack himself in the head later for such a crude comment. You probably thought he was an idiot now.

"I sure hope so." You chuckled, making him blush even deeper if that was even possible. "It's part of my job."

Johnny shook his head in embarrassment, his dark hair bouncing from how vigorously he did it. He mumbled, "That sounded really lame and not smooth, I'm sorry. Please forget I opened my mouth."

You could only chuckle as you apply the ointment around his knuckles. He wanted the ground to open up and just swallow him whole.

"Please let this heal completely, Johnny. Don't apply any strain on your injuries for a couple of days and refrain yourself from carrying anything heavy so that the stitches won't rip." You said, carefully placing down his hand back on his knee. You were gentle as ever, Johnny swooned. "Absolutely no punching for a while."

"I have an important match at the end of next week. Is there any way to speed up the healing process?" Johnny asked, his eyes were almost pleading at you and you blinked at him in surprise.

"Apart from what I just said, there's really nothing else you could do." You pursed your lips, watching his expression visibly deflate. "If you want to have even a sliver of a chance at winning your match, I suggest you do as I say. Your stitches won't take too long to heal, I promise."

If Hyunsik was there with him, he would've probably already scolded him but the point would be the same. He had always prioritized Johnny's health above winning.

"Okay, doc. I'll do my best." Johnny said, defeated.

"You know, I always see the aftermath of your matches and your training. I want to see you in the ring next time when you're not bloody and beaten up yet." You smiled at him and you swore that all the color that was previously drained from Johnny's face came rushing back. "If it's okay."

"Are you serious?" Johnny asked, almost dumbfounded. Did the pretty doctor he'd been crushing on for months really just asked if she could watch his match?

You nodded with the same hue of red now tainting your cheeks.

"O-Of course! It's on Saturday next week! Please come and cheer me on!" Like a little kid, he excitedly rambled on about the details about the upcoming match and you nodded with the same enthusiast as you wrapped bandages around his hands.

You weren't from his world so everything he said sounded foreign to you. The terms he said, the infamy of his opponents, the prominence of it all — you were eager to learn it if it meant seeing him this happy.

You've always known that he hated hospitals. It was clear from the way he acted during your first meeting. He was stiff and tense, the body language he exuded just screamed that he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. As he visited the hospital more and more, you noticed the hatred never faltered. He only became better at hiding it from you.

To see him so relaxed and carefree within the four walls he hated with all his being, it was a breath of fresh air and the feeling you had in your chest grew stronger.

"You're good to go. I promise to see you in your match." You were jotting some last-minute details on the clipboard and you missed the way Johnny kept grinning like an idiot. "As much as I love seeing you here, I hate that you keep getting yourself injured. Keep out of trouble for me, Johnny."

You left the room without letting Johnny say another word.

Fuck, Johnny realized he hadn't asked for your number.

Johnny's match started in ten minutes. His heart was pounding in his ears, he almost couldn't hear what Hyunsik was shouting to him.

The underground stadium was filled to the brim with people, he felt more nervous than he did during his first boxing match. A lot was at stake for this win, he needed the belt. He was desperate for it.

"Johnny, are you listening to me?" Hyunsik raised his voice, aggressively slapping Johnny's cheeks together in his hands so he could focus on him. The boxer's mind was fleeting and it was his job to pull him back to reality now.

He hadn't seen you since last week and as much as he wanted to go back to the hospital to see you, he refused to badly hurt himself in the days that led up to the match. Johnny scanned the crowd for your face but he couldn't see it. You weren't there.

At the lack of your turnout, he failed to mask his disappointment. Hyunsik let out an aggravated groan and pulled the boxer on his feet to berate him further.

"Johnny, please for the love of all things holy, look me in the eye."

"I'm sorry. I'm okay now. I'm listening."

"Good because your match is starting soon and I need you to win this. All your hardships and sacrifices boils down to this match, you hear me?" Hyunsik bellowed, trying his best to keep his voice louder than the cries and chants of the audience. "Show them what Johnny Suh is capable of!"

Johnny nodded fervently, forcing himself into a state of serenity of peacefulness. He let out heavy breaths to even out his breathing as his team surrounded him, prepping him for what was about to come.

Hyunsik raised his hand at Johnny. He had five minutes left until his match started and he wasn't calming down.

"Can I please have some water?" Johnny asked and his medic stumbled on his feet to fetch him a bottle from the nearby cooler. He couldn't help but let out a shaky chuckle, his team seemed tenser than he was.

He downed the bottle as soon as it reached his hand. His hand was shaky. Goddammit, why was he so nervous?

At the corner of his eye, he saw Hyunsik making his way over to the barricade that separated his corner to the rest of the stadium. He arched his neck in a way that would let him take a peek what was so important that Hyunsik had to leave his side when the match was starting in a few minutes.

It seemed like Hyunsik was trying to stop a girl who was forcing her way in through the barricade. His stomach lurched at the sight of her familiar face.

As if he was acting purely on instinct, Johnny shot up from his seat and ran towards you. Hyunsik held up his arm to stop him from going any closer to you. You could've been a deranged fan, for all Hyunsik knows.

"Johnny-"

"I know her."

Hyunsik was startled at his response and started to profusely apologize to you. You looked nothing but smug and Johnny let out a breathy laugh that helped unravel the knots in his stomach. The boxer quietly motioned for him to take his leave and Hyunsik hesitantly did as told only after tapping his wrist as a sign that time was ticking.

You bowed at him apologetically, "I'm so sorry I'm late! There was this damn patient-"

"It's okay. You're here now." He cut you off, a cheesy smile on his face. You easily reciprocated it back.

"I just came down here to wish you good luck." You said with the usual confidence in your tone gone and now replaced with a sudden timidness and bashfulness. "Not like you need it or anything."

"Where are you sitting?" Johnny asked, noticing that you were struggling to keep your attention on his eyes. He peered down and realized that he didn't have a shirt on, he chuckled.

You pointed near the walls of the stadium and he strained his vision to see so far away. He pursed his lips and let out a noise of discontent. You said that it was the only seats available because you were so late.

"Why don't you sit here with them? They wouldn't mind." Johnny said, jutting his thumb over to his team who was furtively watching his interaction.

"Oh no, it's okay."

"I insist. I want you to see me win up close."

You blushed a deep shade of scarlet and Johnny grinned at his successful attempt at a flirt. Was it even a flirt or was it an ego stroke? Either way, it didn't matter because you were smiling at him. You were easing his nerves and you didn't even know.

"I got out of my shift early so I wouldn't be in the hospital later to stitch you up." You teased, softly prodding his shoulder blade.

Johnny playfully puffed out his chest, "I don't plan on getting too injured today, I wanna look cool in front of you."

"Whatever you say, Johnny."

"But I'm nervous. I'm actually really nervous today." Johnny mumbled as if he didn't want anyone else in on your conversation, gone all traces of his cockiness as his heart thudded erratically against his chest when he heard Hyunsik's call of the last minute until he has to go inside the ring.

You gingerly reached for his taped hands and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Just count back from a hundred like I always tell you to. You'll do fine."

"Wait for me after the match, okay?" And so you did.

Counting down the numbers, Johnny clambered inside the ring and the bell rang to signal the start of the match. Being in the medical field meant that you were against all forms of violence so you couldn't really watch the entirety of the match without feeling sick to your stomach. Johnny didn't care, he was just happy that you kept your promise and was cheering him on.

It was hectic and everything was happening all at once. It was loud and everybody was screaming. This wasn't your world, it was Johnny's and your heart fluttered at the thought that he was willing to let you in it.

Eventually, the match ended in Johnny's favor and the next thing you knew, you were being hoisted up in the air. You had the biggest smile on your face, similar to Johnny's who now had a shiny belt slung over his shoulder. All his hard work and all his trips to the hospital paid off.

"Congrats on your win!" You exclaimed, placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself.

"I wanted you to see me get the belt." He admittedly sheepishly, reaching out to hold your wrists in his bruised hands.

"Aren't you hurt in any way? We can drop by the hospital if you want." You asked, checking to see if he had any major injuries but true to his word, Johnny was inflicted little to no injuries during the match, exclude the few bruises on his jaw and a busted lip

"Actually, I'd rather we get some coffee instead." Johnny said, the small smile on his lips making you chuckle.

"I'm sorry, I don't date my patients." You smirked at Johnny's crestfallen expression, softly shoving his side to make it known that you were only joking.

Johnny pulled a face, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding once he realized your joke. He played along, "I think you can make me an exception, I don't usually invite people to my matches."

"So this is about getting even, huh?" You were teasing him and now your faces were merely inches apart but before Johnny could even think of leaning in, you spun around and grabbed his hand once more. "C'mon then, my treat!"

Johnny let out a laugh. A boxer and a doctor, who would've thought?

2K notes · View notes

diaryofabeautyfiend · 3 years

Text

* ⚠️ Warnings: A lot of angst. Mentions of sex. A little fluff. People drinking alcohol. ⚠️ This one shot was never meant to be a series. All of your love and appreciation spurred me in to write more. Hope you like this chapter. I cried while I was writing it. Part 5 is the finale.

Plain Gold Ring IV:

You Don’t Know What Love Is

“How could you know how lips hurt

'Till you've kissed and had to pay the cost

Baby, 'till you've flipped your heart and you have lost

You don't know what love is” Nina Simone

———————————————————————

Being on the board of your firm’s charity gala was a huge deal. On top of your normal duties you were in charge of the silent auction. The final auction items had all arrived and you had been busy categorizing everything and preparing for the night that you barely have time to focus on the Andy and Lori situation.

Not that it wasn’t grating on your last nerve. You were so short with everyone at work that it was becoming a problem. Stan had to have a talk with you. You just had to focus and get through this event.

Andy helped as much as he could. He was supportive when you were frustrated and quickly learned when to back off. Sometimes you were up until the wee hours he would literally drag you to bed. He knew how to keep your mind off of work for a while.

You were so busy that you hadn’t even purchased a dress. You and Liz went shopping after work. She was the only person to know about you and Andy.

“What do you think of this one? Think Andy will like it?” You wore a black long sleeved gown with a v that went down to right above your belly button and a slit up to your mid thigh.

“I mean, I’d fuck you.” she deadpanned. This was the dress. You would be comfortable in it all night. You also looked like a powerful bitch who would slit your throat.

———————————————————————

You had to be at the site earlier than the guests so you did your hair and most of your makeup at home. Andy had not seen your dress on purpose. You wanted him to see you when he walked in with Lori. Your petty brain was on overdrive.

“Well you look great” Andy said pointing to your sweats.

“Shush. I’m not putting on my dress and heels until the last second. I pressed your shirt it’s hanging in your closet. I also picked up your tux from the cleaners.”

He slid his arms around you and looked at you in the mirror. “Why are you so good to me?” His hands roamed your body and made contact with your bare skin under your tshirt.

“I am gonna be late.” You swatted his hands away.

“You have four hours. Didn’t you hire party planners?”

“Yes. I still need to get my nails done and set up the auction. You can have your way with me later.”

“But I want to now” he whined. “Please. I’ll be really quick.”

You giggled , “Sounds really fun for me. You know I would never ever miss an opportunity to cum all over your cock…” your face was so close to his your lips were nearly touching. Your hands were on his chest. His were on your hips pulling you closer. “But I have to go. Bye, baby.”

“Tease! You’ll pay for that.” he called after you.

You winked at him as you headed out of the door, “I certainly hope so.”

All Andy could do was laugh. He wished he could spend this evening whisking you around the dance floor. He couldn’t wait to see how beautiful you would look tonight.

In two days you would be on your way to Chicago. The movers were already on the way with your furniture. Your suitcase was in the process of being packed. He hated it. He was taking a long weekend to help you get settled. By Wednesday morning you would have to say goodbye. His heart broke a little every time he thought about it. Every single day he wanted to say he loved you. He was reluctant to ruin what you had knowing there was no way around the inevitable.

———————————————————————

Everything was set. The only thing left was for you to get dressed. You re-sprayed your hair and put on your jewelry. You spritzed Chanel over your wrists neck and cleavage. Last thing was to coat your lips in a matte oxblood to match your nails. You looked sleek and downright terrifying. Just as you planned.

“They just walked in.” Liz whispered from the doorway.

“How does she look?”

“Pretty and appropriate.”

“How do I look?”

“Like a bad bitch. Let’s go.”

You walked out with your shoulders back and your head high. You made sure the gown swished enough to expose your legs and the impossibly high heels you wore. Andy saw you from across the room and stopped dead in his tracks. You looked like you were walking in slow motion. He almost dropped his drink.

You made a b line for Stan and his wife Elaine who were standing directly behind the other couple. He smelled your perfume wafting off of you when you walked by. He almost lost it right there.

“Y/N! What a knockout. Elaine, isn’t she gorgeous?” You kissed his cheek with the side of your mouth careful not to smear your lipstick.

“Christ, Stan. Keep it in your pants. You look beautiful, honey.”

“Thank you, Elaine. So good to see you. Lovely as always.”

“Thank you, dear. Now how is it possible you are here without a date? Stan, you work the poor thing so much she can’t even find a man. That’s why she’s leaving you.”

“And for many other reasons” you joked. You were very much aware that Andy was behind you. “Elaine have you met Andy and Lori Barber?”

You took Lori’s hand and ushered them over. “No, I haven’t. So nice to finally meet you.”

“You get to know each other. I’m going to grab a drink. Can I get anyone anything?” Such a good hostess.

“I’d love a scotch. Elaine wine?” She nodded.

“Andy?”

“You won’t be able to carry all of those drinks. Let me come with you.” Andy patted Lori on the arm. “I’ll be right back.” When you were far enough away he took a long look at you. “How long til I get to rip that dress off of you?”

Your cheeks heated, “You won’t be ripping anything. This dress cost a fortune. It’s far too pretty to ruin especially with panty lines.”

“Fuck. I’m gonna ruin that pussy.”

“Promises promises, Mr. Barber.” He groaned and adjusted his pants.

“Such a tease.”

You delivered the drinks and excused yourself. For the rest of the night Andy only caught glimpses of you. He tried not to make it obvious but Lori could see. Once upon a time he looked at her like that. Except the way he looked at you was a look of complete adoration.

You tried avoiding the Barbers all night. The whole time Andy schmoozed and did his Andy thing, his arm was around her waist. She kept her hand on his chest. They were always finding little ways to touch each other. When he kissed her temple you nearly broke the clipboard you were holding.

Stan stood next to you draining his fourth drink, “You ok there, champ? Sweet couple aren’t they?”

“Yeah. They’re adorable.” You slammed the rest of your Old Fashion.

“Reminds me of me and Katherine . Remember Katherine?”

“Was she your second or third wife? I don’t remember.” Your words were dripping with sarcasm.

“Second. Every time we had one of these things Katherine was on my arm. She was great at this shit. She’d chat it up with the partner’s wives earning me brownie points while I fucked Elaine’s brains out in the John. Know why I married Elaine? She was the best goddamn litigator I’d ever seen. Gets my dick hard every time I think about it. She lit a fire in me that couldn’t be stoked. Kind of like you do for Andy.”

You blanched, “What do you mean?”

“Oh save it. I know you’re fucking. The whole office does. I see how he looks at you. But you can’t see how you look at him. Don’t let the act fool you. He’s stupid for you. Let me keep him for a couple of months before you move him to Chicago ok? He can make us some serious money.” He patted you on the ass and went back to Elaine. She was waiting for him with a big smile that he drunkenly devoured.

———————————————————————

The band started playing. When a slow song came on Lori took Andy’s hand. “Dance with me?”

For possibly the last time he held her. She closed her eyes, rested her head on his shoulder and let him lead her around the dance floor. He wasn’t reciprocating with the same tenderness. His eyes were held on you.

You watched him place his hand on the small of her back. The way he held her hand was a practiced action that he had perfected over sixteen years. When he let himself get lost for just a moment he was overcome with grief for himself and Lori. He pressed a kiss to her lips. Her heart fluttered and she kissed him back. You rushed out of the room when you saw them.

Lori felt her husband’s body stiffen. His hold on her loosened. It felt like he was forcing his body to stay with her. She understood why his mood shifted when she saw you leaving. She looked up at him. His eyebrows were knitted together with worry.

“How long have you been sleeping with her?” she asked quietly.

“A month. Maybe longer.” He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t lie.

“So basically since you left.”

“My second day there. Lori, I’m so sorry. It just happened. I wasn’t looking for anything.”

“No, but you were open to something happening. Does everyone here know? Of course they do. I’m so humiliated. I think I’d like to go home.”

“I’ll get the car.”

“No. I can get myself home. This night is too important for you to leave early.”

“Lori…”

“I don’t want to be around you right now, Andy. I can’t.” She let go of his hand and left. She carried herself with poise and dignity but inside she was dying.

You were nowhere to be found. He spotted Liz who was chatting with some friends. “Where is she?”

“Auctions over. She left.”

“Shit. Thanks.”

“Andy, be gentle with her. Idiots.”

He ran to the valet and jumped in his car to race home. When he got out he noticed a suit case in the back of your car. The elevator was taking forever. He took the stairs two at a time to reach you before you got away.

He heard your heels clacking on the hardwood. Clothes were everywhere. “Y/N?”

“Bedroom.” You were still in your pretty dress. Still all made up throwing things in another suitcase.

“Going somewhere?”

“Hotel.”

“Mind telling me why?” His voice was hoarse like he had been screaming.

“The way you held her…you kissed her.” He grabbed your hands to make you look at him but you yanked them away. “This was stupid. I should have never gotten involved with you in the first place. Married men never leave. Please get out of my way, Andy. I have to go.”

“You think this was a mistake?” Slow tears rolled down his face. He undid his bow tie and sat down. “I don’t. I’m glad we met.”

“Why? Because I feel like my heart has been ripped from my chest. So why are you glad?”

“Because you reminded me what it felt like to be cared for. To feel loved. You showed me what I had been missing for a long time now.”

“Happy to have helped.” You continued emptying drawers.

“Please stop packing. Please.” You wouldn’t look at him. He tried grabbing you several times but you moved beyond his reach. “Damn it! Why? Why do you always run when things get hard?”

“I’m not running.”

“No? So Chicago just came up? Or did you put out your resume the second you heard I got the job you wanted?”

Your cheeks heated. “You know how this business works. If I got passed over this time, they’ll keep doing it.”

“Right. And tonight? The second things get weird you run.”

“You kissed her!” You were trying not to cry.

“I know. I was sad. We’ve been Andy and Lori for the majority of our lives. Tonight felt so final. I know we’ll always have Jacob but, there is nothing else there. Please. I am so in love with you. Please.” He dropped to his knees and hugged you tight around your waist.

“Andy, you have to let me go.” He pressed his face into your stomach and broke down. “Andy? Sweetie? Come on. Let go.”

“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll let you walk out of that door. I’ll never contact you again. But I know you do.”

“Stop….”

“Aren’t you tired of running?” You were tired. You ran away from your family, former lovers, dead end jobs. You wanted to finally be settled. Leave with a clean break. There was nothing clean about this. If you said you loved him there was no going back. This would be at least three years of a long distance relationship because he won’t leave Jacob. You didn’t want him to leave his son. This would be you exhibiting a level of trust you weren’t sure you had. He fell in love with you so fast. In your absence, what would stop him from falling for someone else? You were so weak when it came to Andy. Fucking perfect at everything Andy fucking Barber. Why couldn’t you shake him? Why couldn’t you just walk away like you have been trying to do since the first time you had sex?

BECAUSE WE LOVE HIM YOU DUMB TWAT. Your brain screamed. You couldn’t make your mouth work. You ran your fingers through his hair, “I love you, Andy.”

He pulled you down onto the floor and kissed you with abandon. “Say that again.” he whispered against your mouth.

“I love you. I love you. God help me, I love you.” A smile was plastered on his face for the rest of the night. Packing could wait.

#andy barber smut #andy barber x y/n #andy barber angst #andy barber #defending jacob

45 notes · View notes