#the other hole in his being so now he's left trying to find a justification to his existence beyond bruce. and finding a reason to live ain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pyrobane-fandom-space · 3 years

Text

Significant Strides in Relations

Author: Merlyn Bane

Word Count: 10.3K (shut up, don't @ me okay)

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi manages to catch the attention of his attache on a diplomatic mission.

Warnings: Adult Content™. Strong language, smut. Virgin!Obi I guess. Unprotected sex--wrap it up!

A/N: Did I come back from the dead just to post some completely self-indulgent bullshit? Yes I did. This is like 3.7K worth of smut with like 5K worth of justification and like 1K of Skywalker bullshit at the end and I'm not sorry about any of it. I would also just like to blame @no-droids and their Open Door series for giving me a Thing for Obi-Wan in the first place.

(gif found on google, not mine)

You want to fuck the Jedi.

And, yeah, sure, you feel a little bit bad about it. You know enough about the Order to know that that's something the Jedi don't do--if the poor man knew the direction your thoughts had taken, he'd probably be scandalized. You can clearly imagine his face turning, just, scarlet, especially because you do mean fuck.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is visiting your planet on a diplomatic mission that you haven't been briefed on the particulars of, and you've been assigned to him as an attaché during his stay--tending to his needs, making sure he's comfortable while he's here. It's a function you've performed many, many times as part of your duties to the royal family, but Kenobi has been...particularly pleasant, to work with. The Jedi is kind, treats you like an equal even though you're technically working for him for the time being, and he's funny. You hadn't realized the Jedi were allowed a sense of humor, but Maker, this one is sarcastic, constantly teasing with a playful glint in his blue eyes that is...not helping you with the whole 'wanting to irredeemably corrupt him' problem that you're currently having.

You show up at his quarters just before breakfast to collect him as you have for the last two days and he's already there waiting for you, opening the door just as you're coming to a stop in front of it. Kenobi gives you a gracious smile as he steps into the hallway with you, letting the door slide closed behind him, and you return it before turning to start making your way to the dining hall. He falls in step next to you and despite the fact that he really isn't walking that close to you, you swear you can feel him there. "Good morning, young one."

You snort softly, scrunching your nose up as you give him an unimpressed side-eye. "Young one? You realize I'm within five years of you? I think you spend too much time with your old padawan and not enough with your peers, Kenobi."

The Jedi chuckles next to you, looking suitably sheepish as he grins over at you. "My apologies, my lady," he says, and you can tell that he's teasing you lightly. You roll your eyes but don't correct him--no, instead you internalize it, and his innocent my lady gets cataloged away with the rest of the impure thoughts that have been plaguing you since you saw him in the great hall upon his arrival. "I meant no offense."

"None was taken."

The conversation sort of just...drifts off, and you take the time to study his features out of the corner of your eye while he's looking ahead. The Jedi is...handsome, and frankly you think it's very unfair of the Order to lock all of that up under a chastity vow. The lines of his face are classical, look like they could have been carved from marble--only accentuated by the scruff of the beard lining a jaw you kind of want to sink your teeth into.

And, Maker. His eyes. The clearest crystal blue, like twin glaciers, piercing directly into your soul every time you meet them but...gentle. Always gentle. You know he's as talented a warrior as he is a negotiator, you've heard the stories, but you would never know it from his pretty eyes.

"What are your plans for the day, Master Kenobi? Since there won't be any official matters taking place today." It's the third day of the week, and on your planet it is considered inappropriate to do such work then. Most of your people will be in services today, to include the royal family. You probably should be, but you had offered to stay behind and continue to assist the Jedi--you've never cared for such things, anyway, and you certainly think he makes for better company.

Kenobi turns his head just enough to give you a small smile before he looks forward again, humming softly as he considers his answer. "I will likely confer with the Council this afternoon, update them on how the negotiations are going. Perhaps I will take some time to meditate, as well. You may have most of the day to yourself." It's quiet for a moment, then: "And you may just call me Obi-Wan, if you wish."

Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan--

It does not escape your attention that this isn't an offer that was even extended to your employers, who he's supposed to be here on the sole purpose of brokering an agreement with. They've still been using titles with each other, you know they have. Fuck. "Obi-Wan," you repeat, hoping that it escapes his notice how much you find that you like the way it feels on your tongue. Obi-Wan. "If you find you have the time, later, maybe I could show you around a little more. There are some places on the palace grounds I think you might enjoy."

The Jedi hums again, and you can see that he's still smiling when you look over at him. "I will certainly keep that in mind."

You reach the dining hall only a few minutes later, and go your separate ways once you've gotten your food. You find a seat at one of the far tables tucked into a corner that's already populated by a couple of your fellow staff members, making sure to sit so that you're facing him so he can get your attention if he needs it. You're being elbowed almost the second your ass hits the seat, the girl to your left clearly desperate for whatever gossip she thinks you have as she leans in and whispers at you in hushed tones.

"Maker, you've got a dreamy one. You're so lucky, I was assigned to--"

You're not even listening, not really--tuning her out while you tuck into your breakfast. You suppose you don't have any real right to be so annoyed with her, truthfully, given that you've been having similar thoughts about him yourself all morning and for most of the last couple of days, but you find that you are anyway. The girl doesn't even seem to realize that you're ignoring her, continuing to chatter at you until one of the other people at your table manages to redirect her attention, if not the subject.

You tell yourself that the reason your attention stays focused on the Jedi is in case he needs you for anything but you're not very convincing, even to yourself. Your mind wanders while you eat, formulating scenarios that all seem to end with Obi-Wan between your thighs. Most of these thoughts are generally nonsensical, idle flashes and half-strung together images, but some of them come through with alarming clarity.

I want to suck his cock.

The Jedi suddenly chokes on whatever it is he's just eaten.

You instinctively shift to stand up to try and help him but his companion is already there, smacking his back with more force than you think is probably necessary and laughing loudly enough that you can hear him from your table. Skywalker, you think his name is. He's still chuckling when they settle back down, despite the thoroughly unamused looks Obi-Wan is shooting him. You snort quietly to yourself and Skywalker turns his head to look at you like he can sense your eyes on them. Your eyes meet for a second, two, and then to your horror he winks at you.

Your stomach sinks. No. No, no. No. He's just winking at you because he caught you looking over at them, right? Jedi can't. Jedi can't read minds, right? Surely not. The younger Jedi raises an eyebrow at you, the edge of his lip curving into what can only be called a smirk, and you really. Just need the ground to open up and swallow you whole right here. Maker. You're going to have to work with Obi-Wan for the next couple of days--how the fuck are you supposed to look him in the eyes, now, knowing that he's heard you this entire time?

Breakfast passes both entirely too quickly and not near quickly enough, and before you know it, both Jedi are getting to their feet. You curse quietly under your breath and stand yourself, disposing of your tray before you manage to make yourself walk back over to join them. You still have a job to do, regardless of whether or not you want to dig yourself a nice deep hole to die in right now. You do your best to force a smile once you reach them, really trying your absolute hardest to pretend that none of...that, had just happened. Like you haven't been caught lusting over Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi by the man himself.

Skywalker is the first to speak, that Maker-forsaken grin still plastered firmly in place on his face when he does. "Hello,"

You think he's having entirely too much fucking fun with this, frankly.

Obi-Wan seems to agree with you, if the look he gives his companion then is anything to go by. You swallow, doing your best to reign in your composure as you raise a hand to wave at him in response before turning back to the man you're supposed to be assisting. "Are you--" you pause, clearing your throat before continuing. "Are you ready to return to your rooms?"

Maker. Maker. Why did you have to say--

"Quite," Obi-Wan answers before you can stutter out an apology, giving Skywalker what can only be described as a warning look before he turns back to follow you. Your gaze stays all but permanently affixed to the floor as you start making your way down the hall, the only thing indicating that he's still beside you the sound of his boots on the tile.

You can feel his eyes on you when you reach his door but you still can't bring yourself to meet them, clearing your throat awkwardly and folding your hands behind your back in a bid to stop yourself from picking at your thumbnail from the nervous energy that's suddenly coursing through your body. "I. I hope you have a pleasant rest of your day," you manage to stutter out, taking your leave before he can say anything to stop you.

You end up having a couple of hours to yourself to stew in the privacy of your own room before anyone comes for you.

You groan quietly when you hear the knock at your door but haul yourself to your feet and make your way over anyway, pushing your hair out of your face. You frown minutely when you find one of your coworkers standing there. Kaljova--she's assigned to Skywalker, if you recall correctly. She seems vaguely concerned with the state you're in but is kind enough not to comment on it, giving you a polite smile instead. "Master Kenobi has asked for you," Kaljova tells you, and has the grace to pretend to not notice the way your face falls with it.

"Do you know what he needs?" you ask her, blessedly managing to keep your voice even. You reach down to grab your cloak from the table by your door and tie it around your shoulders without waiting for her to actually answer, stepping out into the hallway and letting your door close behind you.

She shakes her head, shrugging a little bit. "Master Skywalker didn't say, I'm sorry."

You shake your head, sighing softly but giving her a small, reassuring smile. "It's okay. Thank you for letting me know."

She returns your smile and nods once before she turns around and leaves you to your own devices again. You groan quietly, pinching the bridge of your nose as you work up the nerve to actually make your way to the visiting diplomat wing where you know he's waiting for you. It takes you a couple of minutes but you do manage to make your feet move eventually and they carry you there far faster than you'd have liked them to.

You swallow harshly and close your eyes for a second before reaching up to knock on his door, bracing yourself. Maker, he probably wants to talk about it, clear the air or whatever, and you are just...absolutely not even a little bit equipped to deal with that right now, frankly. You're able to school your features as the door slides open but just barely, and you stop breathing altogether when you look up and meet those pretty blue eyes.

And he seems...surprised to see you.

That kriffing--

"You...didn't send for me, did you?"

Obi-Wan shakes his head, looking more confused if possible, and you just sigh quietly, giving him an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, I think there was a...miscommunication." And I'm going to kill your fucking padawan. "I'll just--I'll just go." You raise a hand in a very awkward not-wave and turn on your heel to go, but then.

The Jedi gently grabs you by the elbow, and everything stops for a moment.

Goddammit.

"Wait," Obi-Wan says, softly--like he's trying not to spook you. You take a deep, stuttering breath, and sigh it out, relaxing where you stand as you give up on getting out of this. "I believe...it would be a good idea, if we talked."

Yeah, that's. That's pretty much what you figured, unfortunately.

"I'm very sorry, if I made you uncomfortable, I...I didn't know you could--" Didn't know you could hear me.

"I know," he tells you, just as gently as before, and you reluctantly turn just enough to be able to face him. His eyes are soft when they regard you, and you find your breathing evening out despite yourself--wondering idly how much of it is actively his doing. "Just...come inside. Please."

You can't find it in yourself to deny him so you nod, letting him lead you into the room and trying to pretend that you can't feel your heart stop when the door slides shut behind you. Obi-Wan seems to notice you not knowing what to do with yourself because he gestures to one of the chairs in the sitting area, sitting down in the one opposite it once you're settled. It's quiet for a moment as both of you seem to search for the right words.

"I would like to begin by apologizing for Anakin," he says finally, and you snort as the words register. He gives you a wry smile in return, and continues. "He means well, but he can be...thoughtless, in his humor, at times. Particularly when it is at my expense."

"He sounds like he must have been a joy to train."

That earns you an almost startled sounding laugh out of the Jedi, which manages to get a real smile out of you. "I fear he may have also misled you, to an extent." He tells you, not quite meeting your eyes now as he scratches at his beard. You give him a questioning look and he sighs softly, leaning back in his chair. "We...can hear thoughts, but only if we go looking and it is considered very inappropriate to do so without reason."

You feel your eyebrows knit together in confusion, then, and you tilt your head at him. "But you…?"

Obi-Wan winces, and nods. "You may have...projected, this morning, inadvertently. It was...rather loud, and my guards were not as firmly in place as they probably should have been."

Oh. So you'd shouted it at him, then. Great. "Oh."

"I had...gotten a sense of the direction of your thoughts, before that, but you were acting very professionally so thought it best to pay it no mind."

That's...very kind of him, actually, to have simply ignored it even though it must have made him uncomfortable, especially when he so easily could have just told you to knock it off or requested a different attache. You clear your throat, finding yourself picking at your thumbnail again. "I appreciate that."

"You needn't be embarrassed, you know." the Jedi murmurs softly, and you look up to meet his gaze despite yourself. He smiles at you a little bit, then, and it brings something very warm into those blue eyes of his that almost makes you just a little lightheaded. "These things happen. You're only human, you can't be expected to have complete control of your thoughts all the time."

"You do," you point out, just because you feel the need to. "Jedi do. So I'm told."

"We spend our whole lives learning to try." he amends, and there's something so human in the way that he grins that suddenly, all you want to do is lean over and kiss him. "It is a constant exercise, not a skill that can be mastered."

"Still. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable this week."

"Uncomfortable might not be the right word for it, speaking truthfully," Obi-Wan admits, so quietly that you're almost not even sure he's really said it at all. And--Maker, is he implying what it sounds like he's implying? You know your eyes must be just about bugging out of your head with the shock but he mercifully either doesn't notice or pretends not to, scratching at his beard again as he seems to consider his next words, and you...really need him to stop doing that. It's becoming hard enough to maintain your focus as it is. "There were times where I was perhaps...tempted."

You stare at him, blankly, blinking slowly as the words process. Tempted tempted tempted-- "I thought Jedi couldn't…"

Obi-Wan clears his throat, and suddenly he's the one looking unsettled. "Technically, the Code prohibits intimacy, attachment. It...says nothing about the act itself."

Oh. Oh.

You're still staring at him, just completely dumbstruck, so the Jedi seems to decide to take it upon himself to continue talking and fill the space. "For most of us it ends with the same result, functionally, but. Technically."

Maker, get it together. You feel like you're on a several second delay, having great difficulty processing this new information, let alone giving him the verbal response to it that he's clearly waiting for, now. "Have you--"

"Almost. Once. When I was a padawan myself. My master and I were stationed on Mandalore at the time, assigned to protect the Duchess."

You're grinning, now, you can feel it tugging at the edges of your mouth. Maker, you suddenly need to know this story like you need to breathe. "What happened?"

Stars, you swear you can see the tips of his ears turn red. "Qui-Gon caught us. It has...certainly dissuaded me from making any attempts since."

You laugh. You can't help it. Suddenly you're laughing so hard it nearly hurts, grasping your middle with one hand while wiping tears from your eyes with the other. You would feel worse about it if Obi-Wan didn't look so amused himself. "Oh, you poor thing." you snort before your brain can catch up with your mouth, and you feel your own face heat when you realize the implication of what you've just said to him. Way to go, Ace.

Except...he's still grinning at you, amusement dancing in those blue eyes, and all the air seems to rush out of the room when they lock on your own. Kriff. "Are you suggesting that I'm missing out, then?"

He's teasing you, the bastard, and all of sudden it makes you feel bold. You lean forward in your chair, then, resting your elbows on your knees as you encroach on his space and pull your lower lip between your teeth.. "I'm not suggesting anything, Master Kenobi," you all but purr at him, "but should you be interested in finding out for yourself…"

The offer hangs in the air between you, then, like a lit fuse while you just stare at each other, both waiting to see if the other will make the next move.

"And what might this...demonstration...entail?"

"Nothing you aren't completely on board with," you tell him immediately, because if this happens--Maker, if--it is absolutely imperative to you that he enjoys himself just as much as you do. Which...gives you an idea, actually. "I make sure my partners have a good time. Haven't done my job if they don't."

Fuck, the Jedi's eyes are blown. His pupils have nearly overtaken those pretty blue irises and it makes your breath catch with how much you want to ruin him. You can feel the tension rising in the room between you, feeding on and feeding into your arousal in a vicious cycle. He swallows, and you watch his Adam's apple bob with it and narrowly resist the urge to bite him. "Oh?"

Kriff, you need to leave before you fuck him right here and ruin your plans. You give him a small, soft smile and stand, padding over to him. His eyes track each movement, his head tilting back to gaze up at you when you come to stand between his knees, and you can see how ragged his breathing's gone at the sudden proximity. You reach out and let your palm wrap around the line of his jaw, your fingernails scratching lightly through the coarse hairs of his beard, and the Jedi's eyes fall closed before you even lean in. He gasps when your mouth brushes against his own, the faintest whisper of a kiss, and your smile widens. "I think, that you deserve to be seduced properly, Obi-Wan," you breathe. "I'm not going to fuck you, Baby, not just yet. When you really want it--then I'll give it to you."

It takes several seconds before he's able to get words out again, and when he does you can barely hear what he's saying from the rasp in them. "I think, my lady," he pants, "that you are being exceedingly cruel."

You chuckle softly, letting your thumb brush across his lower lip before you straighten up and take a step back, ignoring the almost whine that escapes his throat when you do. "Perhaps."

For the rest of the evening, you act as normal--as if none of the events of the day had taken place. You meet with Obi-Wan and escort him to the dining hall for dinner as usual and go your separate ways once your trays are piled high. You do your best to resist the urge to glare daggers at the other Jedi, particularly when he grins and waves at you, but you are able to content yourself with the sharp look Obi-Wan gives him for it as he sits down. Dinner is uneventful despite Skywalker's best efforts, and passes quickly. You give Obi-Wan this time to...come down, essentially, to gather his wits back about him before you really set your plans into motion in the morning. You had left the Jedi absolutely wrecked this afternoon, and not only do you think it would be just a little unfair to begin your seduction in such a state, you're a little concerned that you might actually kill him if you overwhelm him so much all at once. So, you give him time to breathe.

Or at least, that is your intent.

The sudden drop almost seems to have the opposite effect. Obi-Wan's composure is, outwardly, as impeccable as always. No-one but you and Skywalker--you're sure--would be able to tell that anything's up. The only reason you do is because you still can't take your eyes off him so you notice the way his haven't left you, either. And, Maker, the way he looks at you. You almost want to give in, drag him back to his rooms now, but. You meant it earlier, when you said you thought he deserved better than that. The concept of virginity as a special thing is not one you've ever particularly put much stock in, yourself, but you know that this is, will be, a big deal for him whether he's willing to admit it or not. You want to give him at least this much. He might not be allowed true intimacy or emotional attachment, but that doesn't mean the sex has to be careless. You meant it, when you told him that you take care of your partners.

The next day, you start slow. Obi-Wan is actually fairly busy with the diplomatic mission he'd been sent here on in the first place, which makes that relatively simple. The only time you really get with him that morning is when you're escorting him to and from meetings, so you spend that time finding excuses to touch him. Subtle things, like adjusting already-straight the collar of his robes.

"Good morning, Obi-Wan,"

The Jedi steps out into the hall with you and lets the door close behind him, returning your greeting with an easy grin that makes your heart skip a beat. "Good morning. Where are we off too?"

"You have a meeting with the Chancellor, first. It'll be long and likely boring assuming Skywalker behaves himself, but productive." You give him a soft smile, stepping forward and looking up at him from under your lashes. He watches you intently, almost seeming to stop breathing for a second when you reach up and adjust the tan collar of his robes, your fingertips brushing lightly against the skin of his throat when you do. You let the moment linger a second longer than it needs to before you step back to a respectful distance and nod down the hallway. "Shall we?"

Brushing his hair out of his face when it's fallen into his eyes.

Obi-Wan looks about as tired as you expect him to when he comes out of his meeting a couple of hours later but he has a small smile for you when he sees you waiting for him in the hallway anyway. Skywalker follows him through the door seconds later but barely pays either of you any mind, grumbling something about breakfast as he follows Kaljova down the hall. The two of you stand there for another moment, glancing at each other and chuckling at the younger Jedi's irritation, and you notice idly that some of his blond hair's managed to fall out of place. You reach up to brush it back out of his eyes and bite your lip when they zero in on your own, and you find yourself leaning in further before you can stop yourself only for you to jump apart when the door slides open again. The Chancellor gives you both a polite nod as he takes his leave, completely unaware of what he'd interrupted, and you have to shake your head to clear it once he's out of sight. You can still feel the Jedi's eyes on you when you turn to make your way to the dining hall.

It continues this way, more or less, until lunch, when you decide to kick it up a notch going into the afternoon. You remember what he told you about being able to pick up on your feelings, at least in a general sense, whether he went looking for them or not so you decide to lean into that and let your mind run wild with the things you want to do to him. You're careful not to project any particulars at him this time but you can tell that he definitely takes notice when you start letting your thoughts wander.

You're still sitting in the dining hall at your separate tables, and you smirk lightly when his eyes snap up, watching them narrow when he realizes what you're doing. You maintain that eye contact shamelessly, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you try to imagine what's waiting for you underneath those robes. Skywalker's glancing back and forth between you and grinning but Obi-Wan ignores him completely, raising an eyebrow in your direction that you merely shrug at. You see him shift slightly in his seat after a little while of this and decide to lay off a bit--for now, at least.

Obi-Wan has to consult with the Jedi Council after lunch so you decide to have some mercy on him immediately leading up to that and take a break from your little game. You're sure he's still aware of the arousal boiling low in your belly while you walk him back to his rooms after lunch but you're not actively focusing on it now, letting yourself relax and the Jedi by extension.

It's during dinner that evening that you really kick it into high gear.

You're not even fully sure this is going to work, since you've only ever done it once and by accident, but watching Obi-Wan converse with Skywalker at their table, you know you want to try. So you focus your attention on the Jedi, and hone in on the thought of what you think it might be like to kiss him until you see him stiffen and you know he's got it. You keep going, feeding him different images that only grow more explicit as you grow bolder. Sucking and biting bruises into the skin of his throat and chest while you grind down against his cock. Looking right into his pretty blue eyes while you stroke that cock, watching him come apart when you finally take it into your mouth like you've wanted to do practically since you laid eyes on him. Riding him, burying your hands in his hair and swallowing his moans while you bounce in his lap.

Obi-Wan grits his teeth across the dining hall, gripping the edge of the table he's sitting at tightly and pointedly not looking at you while he tries to regain control of his breathing. Skywalker is staring at you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed in total shock, and you only smirk back at him in response as you let the projection drop. You didn't necessarily want the other Jedi to see those things, truthfully, but you don't know how to control the projection well enough to block him out and he's been enough of a dick about the whole thing this week that you really don't feel all that badly about the fact that he looks like he kind of wants to bleach his brain, now.

You simply go back to your meal once you've dropped the projection, though you can't help the small grin that stays plastered on your face. The next few minutes pass that way, but then.

But then.

Well, projection goes both ways.

It feels sort of like a tickle, at first, at the edge of your mind--easily ignored. Then it turns into a gentle prodding, and when you look up to confirm your suspicions, his blue eyes are locked firmly on yours and it takes your breath away. He's...being remarkably gentle with you, knowing that no-one's ever been in your head before like this, waiting for you to relax and let him in in a complete roll reversal that shocks you. You barely manage to contain the gasp when you do, because he's suddenly pushing images back at you. Obi-Wan thinks back to how your fingers had felt in his hair this morning, and then reimagines that feeling with you in his lap, tangled in his hair while you kiss him. Then, fuck. With his head between your thighs. He stops and focuses in on this one, imagining as many details as he can manage as he pushes it to you. Your hands pulling on the blond strands while his grip your thighs, holding you open as his tongue laves through the folds of your cunt.

The moment feels like a tipping point, and both of you know exactly what is going to happen once this meal is over.

You're so pent up and aroused when it's finally time to leave that you're lightheaded with it but somehow you manage to get to your feet anyway, and thankfully you don't end up having to deal with Skywalker at all because Obi-Wan is out of his seat first this time and meets you halfway. There's something in the air between you, something tense and charged, and you know you need to get him back to his rooms now. He seems to be on the same page because he wastes no time in following you out of the dining hall, and his strides are longer enough than usual that you actually struggle just a little bit to keep up.

And there's something so…juvenile about this, rushing off and sneaking around, but it's...fun. You feel almost like a teenager again, truthfully, so eager to get him alone somewhere private so you can get your hands on him that you're all but running down the hallway to get there.

You're on the Jedi the moment the door closes behind you but he's right there with you, pulling you in for a kiss that's all enthusiasm and little finesse but heats your blood anyway. Your fingers tangle in his hair as you tug him closer and he moans with it, his own hands finding your face and framing it gently. You run the tip of your tongue along his lower lip and press forward when his mouth opens into it on a gasp, licking into his mouth until he has to pull away to breathe.

Maker, he already looks a mess; beautifully flushed with his hair all askew and his pupils blown wide. It makes you want to do, just, unspeakable things, but you know you still have to take your time and ease him into it or this will all be over too fast and you can't have that.

"Go...go sit on the bed," you murmur, putting a hand on his chest as you step back and take a second to try and get your wits back about you. "Take your boots off. And your cloak."

And, Kriff, he does it immediately, nodding at you with that just fucking wrecked look in his eyes before he turns to do exactly what you told him, laying his cloak over the back of one of the chairs and padding over to the bed where he sits on the edge before leaning over to take his boots off. You watch him the whole time, almost high on the heady feeling that comes with this hyper-competent Jedi Master doing whatever you tell him to.

You take your time in joining him, partially to tease and partially just because you need those extra few moments. His eyes track every movement as you remove your own cloak, laying it next to his as you toe your shoes off, and you give him a small smile as you make your way over to the bed. Obi-Wan's breath hitches when you climb up onto it and seems to stop altogether when you carefully settle yourself on his lap, his hands fisting at his sides until you reach down to take them gently and guide them to your waist. "You can touch me," you purr, running your nose along the line of his jaw and grinning to yourself when his grip suddenly tightens with it. "It's encouraged, in fact."

He snorts quietly, so breathily that you almost miss it, and starts rubbing circles into your sides with his thumbs. "Noted," he rasps, and you grin wider before you press a kiss just under his jaw. The Jedi shivers with it and the reaction emboldens you so you continue downward, pressing kisses along his skin until you reach the collar of his robe and then you're working at the belt of his robes, eager to get at more of his skin. Obi-Wan seems to still have enough presence of mind to help you, shrugging out of the first two layers once you're able to get them open and discarding them to the side carelessly. You reluctantly have to pull back so you can yank his undershirt over his head but then his whole torso is exposed for your viewing pleasure, so you decide you're alright with the short interruption.

"See something you like?" Obi-Wan quips breathlessly after a few seconds of you shamelessly studying every line and pane of his chest and you only smirk at him an answer, leaning back in his lap to get a better view and darting your tongue out to wet your lower lip.

"What are the odds of anyone seeing you without the robes?"

His eyebrows knit together momentarily like he doesn't know what you're asking, but he seems to put the pieces together when you suddenly duck back down and lick a broad stripe along the line of his collarbone. His hips jerk up with a broken moan before he's able to manage an answer, his head tilting back and further exposing his throat. "Un-unlikely," he gasps out, and you're grinning again as you start pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses lower until you find a spot on his pec that pleases you and you stop and suck. The Jedi gasps raggedly, his fingers digging into your waist as he tries to ground himself, but you don't stop until you know a bruise will bloom there. "Something to remember you by?" he hisses, and you chuckle softly as you trace the round little blemish with the tip of your finger.

"Oh, Baby, I don't think you're going to have any difficulty with that with or without a few little...reminders."

Obi-Wan moans again, low in his throat, when you start pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his chest, gasping out and trembling the first time you let him feel teeth. His hips buck again and then it's your turn to gasp when his cock rubs right up against your cunt--already so, so hard. And, Maker, it is not a small bulge. What's he hiding under all of those neutral fabrics? You leave a meandering line of bites and hickeys all the way down his chest, ignoring the way he whines when you shift back off of his lap so you can continue down to his stomach. He leans back on his palms, then, watching you intently with dark eyes that make your pussy clench between your thighs, and his breath catches in his throat when your hands find the ties of his trousers. "What are you--"

"Told you I wanted to suck your cock," you remind him, biting your lip as you start undoing them--slowly enough to give him ample opportunity to stop you if he wants. "That alright with you?"

The Jedi nods mutely, suddenly seeming at a loss for words, and you smirk as you sit back on your knees and start pulling them down his thighs until he springs free, and--

Kriff--how fucking dare the Order deprive the galaxy of this magnificent cock?

He's not the longest you've ever seen, per se, but he's thick enough that you almost wonder how you're going to take this thing and beautifully flushed, with defined veins that you just know are going to feel incredible inside you. You lean in to lick a stripe right up the underside of it before you can stop yourself and Obi-Wan cries out at the sudden stimulation and shakes, falling backwards onto his back. You moan softly at the response you pull out of him and lean up until you're able to take the head into your mouth, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut and grips the bedspread until his knuckles go white and unravels. "Watch me," you tell him, taking him in your palm and pumping slowly while you wait for him to respond, "Wanna see those pretty blue eyes."

He forces them open just like you told him to, keeping them trained on you as he bites down on his lower lip and takes a shaky breath and you take him into your mouth again, satisfied. He cries out again but a little quieter this time, and you hum around his cock as you start bobbing up and down on it slowly, almost teasingly so, holding his hips down as best you can so you control the pace. You definitely want to feel him come down the back of your throat at some point, but this isn't the time for that. You have every intent of him coming buried deep inside you tonight.

It becomes something of a game, figuring out exactly what he likes. Hollowing your cheeks to make your mouth tighter around him and moaning until he gasps. Teasing the slit at the top with the very tip of your tongue until you swear you hear him curse. And then you take him to the root.

And, Maker, he swears when he bottoms out and it shouldn't be so insanely hot hearing those words come from this ordinarily so well put-together Jedi but it is. You realize how close he's approaching his end so you reluctantly pull off of his cock, then, ignoring the whine that escapes from high in his throat when you do so. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand while you try and catch your breath, which is not made any easier by the way he's looking at you. You know you must look just as wrecked as he does, now, all flushed skin and swollen lips, but if you didn't know better you would genuinely think the man was about to eat you alive. "I think, my lady," he rasps finally, after several seconds of staring at each other, "that you may be slightly overdressed."

Kriff. You glance down at the tunic and trousers that you are, in fact, still wearing, before looking up to meet his eyes again. You maintain that eye contact as you sit back up on your knees, pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you slowly start undoing the laces holding the top closed. Obi-Wan watches each movement like it's the most mesmerizing thing he's ever seen, pupils blown so wide they've almost completely obscured the blue. He groans quietly when the tunic slips from your shoulders, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip when your breasts come into full view. "Is that better?"

He shakes his head mutely, swallowing harshly as he seems to try to gather the words. "I want--may I--kriff, lay back. Please." His gaze follows you closely as you slowly lower yourself down onto your elbows, intensely curious what he's about to do. The Jedi takes a deep breath like he's steeling himself and then he's shifting forward until his body stretches over top of yours, kicking his trousers the rest of the way off in the process, and it's your turn to gasp when you feel his lips brush against the underside of your jaw. He's holding himself up enough that you can't necessarily feel him press against you, but Maker, you can certainly feel the heat coming off of him and his warm breath against your throat. "I believe it's my turn," he murmurs by way of explanation, chuckling softly when your next breath comes out ragged.

"You don't--you don't have to do that," you moan, and Stars--you mean it, you do, especially this first time, but you will be just absolutely fucking inconsolable if he changes his mind right now especially after he went and put the fucking image in your head during dinner earlier.

He doesn't grace that with a verbal response but you're hardly complaining because he starts trailing kisses down the side of your neck instead, and Maker he must have been paying attention when you were doing this to him because you swear he's replicating the technique. "Tell me what you want," he murmurs lowly into the skin of your throat before nipping at it experimentally, listening to you gasp as he keeps talking. "Tell me how to please you, Darling."

His fingers find your nipple before you're able to even begin trying to formulate words and you cry out at the sudden stimulation, arching up into it. "F-Fuck, you're doing a pretty kriffing decent job already," you pant and he chuckles again, running his tongue along your collarbone like you'd done to him and moaning when he gets another ragged gasp for it. "Maker. U-Use your m-mouth,"

You think for a second that he's going to make some smartass comment about how he already is, but mercifully Obi-Wan seems to know what you're asking him for and decides to be kind about it. He continues exploring your breasts with his hand while he returns his mouth to your throat, licking and sucking his way down the column of it until he reaches your sternum where he stops to suck a bruise into the skin. He gets you so worked up by the time he reaches your breasts that you almost don't realize how close he's gotten until those blue eyes are flickering up to meet yours and he's taking your nipple into the blazing hot cavern of his mouth. You open your mouth on a wordless shout and start to writhe under him but he's right there, both hands coming down to your hips to hold you in place as he laves his tongue around the stiffening peak. Obi-Wan focuses his attention on your breast until you're whimpering and then switches to the other, moaning around your nipple when your fingers tangle in his hair.

"You like that, don't you?" you purr down at him, watching the Jedi through half-lidded eyes as he moans again in an affirmative. You pull, then, gently--experimentally, seeing if it's something he'll even like, and then he. Fucking bites you. "Fuck, Obi-Wan!"

"About as much as you liked that," the asshole grins at you impishly as he pulls away from your breast, leaning in to kiss you before you can call him on it. His hands find the top of your trousers once you relax into it, and he leans back to look at you as his fingers dip into the waistband. "May I?"

He starts pulling them down as soon as you nod your consent, sitting back and watching as every inch of skin is revealed until he's removed them completely and he tosses them to the side with the rest of your clothes, leaving you totally bare in front of him. Obi-Wan just...sits there for a moment, taking you in, and you let him, relaxing back against the mattress and smiling up at him.

"Beautiful," he breathes finally, returning your smile with a small one of his own before he's shifting down, keeping his eyes on yours as his lips brush against your hip. He reaches forward and runs one finger through the lips of your cunt lightly, almost teasingly, watching you gasp and try to grind down into it. "Would you like it if I tasted you here, Darling?" Obi-Wan hums, continuing to press kisses along your hip and the insides of your thighs while he waits for an answer and, Maker, the coarseness of his beard against the sensitive skin there robs you of all conscious thought. All you're able to manage is a nod because you're so strung out and you need him there right now but that seems to be enough for him because he starts leaning in, one hand on each of your thighs as he licks a broad stripe right through your cunt.

Stars, you can't even form the words right now to talk him through this like he'd asked, but he...doesn't actually really seem to need your help, here. The Jedi focuses in on your clit right away, swirling his tongue around the little bud before he sucks it into the wet heat of his mouth and you nearly sob at how good it feels. "D-Doing so good, Baby," you manage to get out, and the words almost come out as more of a mewl as he hums around your clit, sending jolts right through you.

You whine in protest when his mouth leaves your clit but his thumb replaces it soon after, rubbing slow circles around it like he's trying to drive you insane on purpose. And then, Maker, his tongue dips into your entrance, licking up inside you while all you can do is sob your pleasure into the air. He keeps going this way for several minutes, steadily working you higher and higher with his tongue buried in your cunt and his thumb strumming your clit until your thighs start to tremble and you feel that coil inside you start to wind tighter. Obi-Wan moans between your legs as when he realizes you're approaching your end and steps up his ministrations, his thumb picking up speed until your back arches underneath him. The orgasm burns its way through you, slow but intense, until you're nearly cross-eyed and delirious with it and he keeps working you through it until you're shaking with overstimulation and pushing his head away.

The Jedi goes willingly when you push him back into a seated position once you've managed to regain your bearings, and Maker, he's a sight like this; his hair just hopelessly disheveled from your fingers in it and your slick coating his chin and kiss-swollen lips. You take a moment to just look at him, committing this image to memory for all of those nights after he leaves when you know you'll look back and picture this with your hand between your thighs. His hands find your hips as you crawl into his lap and settle there, squeezing gently and letting out a soft moan when you lean in to kiss him. Obi-Wan is the one that licks into your mouth this time, mimicking the way your tongue had tangled with his at the start of this until you're moaning into it.

He gasps into the kiss when you reach down between you to take his cock in your hand, stroking it slowly while you shift in his lap and Stars, you swear the Jedi underneath you stops breathing entirely when you line him up and the head of his cock presses right up against your entrance. "Maker, please," he begs then on a broken moan, pulling out of the kiss to catch his breath but leaving his forehead pressed up against yours. He opens his eyes to hold your gaze intently as you start to sink down onto him, crying out at the fucking stretch of it. You take your time taking his cock, both for his benefit and your own, and the slow intrusion into your cunt has you shaking before he even bottoms out.

"Fuck, you feel so f-fucking good,"

And it does. You have to take a minute to adjust once you've taken him to the root before you can move, gripping his shoulders tightly in an attempt to ground yourself, and his hands tighten on your hips in response. The Jedi looks like he might implode if you don't move so you take pity on him, sweeping him into another heated kiss as you roll your hips forward and swallowing his ragged gasp that escapes his throat. You keep the pace slow at first, steady, working yourself open and easing him into the motion and the way your pussy feels wrapped around his cock, and you manage to keep that pace for a few minutes until it becomes too much for both of you.

Obi-Wan's hips buck up at the same time your hips rock forward and you choke on a loud cry, throwing your head back when the head of his cock suddenly hits you right in the sweet spot. He seems to realize that you liked it because he does it again and again, his hands suddenly becoming vices around your hips as he starts thrusting up into you. You keep bouncing in his lap as best you can with his hold on you, meeting him thrust for thrust and Maker, nothing you'd imagined has anything on this. You bury your face in the side of his neck in a pitiful attempt to muffle the sounds that are leaving your throat, sucking and biting at the skin you find there and enjoying the moans you get out of him in return.

You suddenly find yourself on your back with the Jedi above you, swallowing down the gasp that tears out of you as he claims your mouth in a searing kiss. Obi-Wan starts thrusting again immediately as he lets instinct take over, leaning forward on his elbow next to your head to give him better leverage. You nibble on his lower lip as you bring your legs up around his waist, gasping into his mouth when he fucking growls at the feel of your teeth and knotting your fingers in the strands of his hair again. His free hand comes up to cup the side of your face, holding you in place while he kisses the breath from your lungs.

You're not going to last much longer, if the way your cunt is already starting to tighten around him is anything to go by. He shifts his hips just slightly, down and to the side, and you almost scream when he manages to find an angle that has the head of his cock hitting your sweet spot straight on at the same time as the warm skin of his torso brushes against your clit on each thrust in. Fuck, fuck, fuck, how did he get the hang of this so fast? He's going to kriffing kill you, if he keeps this up. "Stars, Obi," you sob out, "I'm gonna--"

The Jedi presses one last firm kiss to your mouth before he's pulling back to watch you fall apart, his hand leaving your face and moving down your body until he's stroking your aching clit with his thumb again, rubbing it in fast, small circles like he's learned you like it as he continues fucking into you like it's the last thing he'll ever do. "Right behind you, Darling," he grits out, his voice coming strained and wrecked and you know he means it. It only takes one, two, three more thrusts before you just fucking shatter, crying out into the air and trembling as the orgasm obliterates you. He follows not half a dozen thrusts later, burying his face in your neck and gasping as he fills you with everything he has, his hips still pumping lazily as he comes down.

Eventually, the Jedi collapses down on the bed next to you, reaching over to brush some of the hair out of your face and giving you a dopey grin that's such a wild juxtaposition from his usual composure and his reputation that it makes you giggle, unable to help yourself. He raises an eyebrow at you playfully but it only makes you laugh harder, shaking your head. "Maker," you breathe, finally, because you can't seem to string together anything else. Obi-Wan chuckles next to you and reaches over to pull you back into his chest, burying his face in your hair while he tries to catch his own breath. "You are...a very quick study. Maker."

You can't see him grin, but you can hear it in his voice when he speaks again. "I'm glad you're pleased," he teases, and you only roll your eyes before letting yourself fully relax against him. Your eyes start to droop but you don't have the energy to fight to keep them open, and you end up falling asleep right there in his arms.

He lets you.

You wake up the next morning almost unbearably warm, and when you go to try and sit up, you find that you can't. You freeze as a half-baked realization suddenly comes over you, hesitantly cracking your eyes open.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Oh, kriff.

You fell asleep here last night. In the Jedi's bed. With the Jedi. He, it turns out, is the reason that you can't move. Obi-Wan's got both arms wrapped tightly around your middle, holding you against his chest with his legs tangled up with yours, and Maker you would never have pegged this man for a cuddler but you couldn't be more wrong, apparently. It does, however, create quite an interesting problem for you.

This is his last morning here before he leaves to return to Coruscant. He and Skywalker are supposed to leave early, before even breakfast. Skywalker will, doubtlessly, be coming around to see what's what's holding his old master up, and soon--and you are still here.

Where you are. Definitely. Not supposed to be.

You don't know how much time you have but you know that it isn't much. You have got to get out of here before Obi-Wan's pain in the ass prior padawan shows up, and the Jedi looks so peaceful like this that you kind of wish you could just let him sleep but you really don't want to just sneak out on him after last night. So you sigh, reaching up to shake his shoulder gently. "Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, we have to get up."

It doesn't take much to wake him, thankfully, and he lets go of you to prop himself up on his elbow as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice still hoarse from sleep as he peers down at you, not quite as surprised to see you there as you'd have maybe expected him to be.

You don't even get a chance to answer him because there's suddenly a knock on the door, and both of your eyes widen at it. Skywalker. "Obi-Wan?"

Fuck, fuck, fuck, where the fuck are your clothes? You're out of the bed before Obi-Wan even has a chance to stop you, frantically trying to find your clothes and put them on. You toss his trousers at his chest when you come across them and that seems to be what finally spurs him into motion, standing up so he can get them on as he calls back to the other Jedi. "What is it, Anakin?"

There's a moment of confused silence, then: "Cody's landing the transport now."

Obi-Wan opens his mouth like he's about to tell his old padawan that he'll be out momentarily, but doesn't get a chance to get the actual words out before you both hear the hiss of the door starting to slide open. Thank the Maker, you just manage to get your tunic back on before Skywalker comes into sight, and you do your best to try to look fucking normal as his eyes flicker between you but your heart fucking stops when you glance to the left of you and realize that Obi-Wan still isn't wearing a fucking shirt. His entire chest is exposed, which means that all of the marks you left scattered across it are also exposed. Fuck, fuck, fuck--

"I'll just. I'll just see you on the transport."

Skywalker is gone before either of you can react, the door sliding shut behind him. Your next breath leaves your lungs with enough force that it's almost a wheeze, and you have to bend over and put your hands on your knees for a second while you try to process what the fuck just happened. Obi-Wan blinks next to you, looking directly ahead for a second or two more before he suddenly starts chuckling, and you stare at him incredulously. "I'm sorry," he says finally, "That was just…"

You're laughing too, then, shaking your head as you step back over to him, ducking down to grab his shirt from where you can see it on the floor. You place the fabric in his hands and lean up on your toes to press a light kiss to his cheek, giving him a small smile. "Until next time, Master Kenobi?"

He gives you a small smile in return, and surprises you a little bit when he leans in himself and presses a soft kiss to your lips. "Until next time."

Mercifully, no-one questions him when Obi-Wan finally makes it to the transport. He intentionally doesn't look at Anakin even though he can feel the other man's eyes on him as he finds his seat and sits down, straightening his robes. He finds it difficult to keep the smile completely off his face so he just ducks his head instead in the guise of settling in for the flight and studiously ignores the way Anakin is still staring at him.

"How was your trip, General?" Cody asks, leaning around in the pilot's seat to look back at him once they've left the planet's atmosphere. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to answer but Anakin's there first, suddenly grinning ear-to-ear in a way that makes him distinctly uncomfortable.

"Oh, the General had a wonderful time." the younger man drawls, looking him right in the eyes as he does, and Obi-Wan wonders not for the first time if Qui-Gon died and left Anakin in his care as some inhumane form of punishment. "Made significant strides with relations and learned a lot, I'm sure."

"Oh, well, that's good, Sir." Cody responds, and Obi-Wan really dearly hopes he's as unaware of the insinuation as he sounds. Cody really does not need to know these things. Anakin does not need to know these things. "I'm glad your mission was productive."

Anakin opens his mouth like he's going to say something else but closes it abruptly and grins instead when Obi-Wan glares at him and shakes his head slowly in warning. "Thank you, Cody." Obi-Wan says instead, leaning back in his seat and letting his eyes close as he tries to relax. Maker, he can still feel the effects of the night before, his muscles are more sore than he would have expected and he finds that he's very aware of the bruises you'd left behind and it's...strangely pleasant.

He's not allowed to have emotional attachments, but. He kind of does hope that he'll see you again one day anyway. Until next time, Master Kenobi.

#obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Obi-Wan #reader fic #reader insert #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #star wars prequels #fic #fanfiction #merlyn posts

65 notes · View notes

anonthenullifier · 3 years

Note

In your snapshot au, how would Wanda and Vision react to meeting canon Tommy and Billy? Billy with his alternate family and issues, and Tommy with his sad history.

Thanks for the ask! As is clear from this series, canon is not held to firmly haha. I hope this is somewhat what you were hoping for and that you enjoy it!

The air tastes different, a touch sour. It’s a fact no one else would pick up on, the gustatory senses of humans discerning but also overwhelmed with the endless combination of flavors. Vision does not eat and so breathing presents him the most common ingredient to his taste buds.

Vision nods, lips held in a taut line as he accesses Avenger Protocol 3252, subtitled: So You’ve Found Yourself in the Multiverse...again. Though Vision wrote the majority of the protocol, it was cosponsored and researched primarily by Dr. Strange and Wanda, neither of whom understood why Vision asked for a breakdown of atmospheric elements, but they did it anyway. He scans through the endless lists of Earths and stops once he reaches the 600s, where carbon dioxide ranges from .0039 to .0040%.

Step 1 of Protocol 3252: Ascertain rough multiversic location. Check.

Step 2: Determine if you are alone.

This is always more difficult, the transition between universes occurring with a heady rush and a feeling of discombobulation that often gives way to brief amnesia. Vision scans his surroundings, a verdant park in what appears to be an urban community. There is a bench underneath an oak, one that obscures the sight of him in case anyone were to wander past. Once seated he runs through what he can remember. He was on an Avengers mission, battling some sorcerer of pandemonium, or so the man yelled a few times but Vision did not catch an actual name, far too focused on trying to usher nervous citizens away from the rain of concrete slabs and glass shards. It was not a solo mission, Wanda was there with him, as were Dr. Strange, Captain Marvel, and...others. A hiccup in his memory is concerning, particularly if he wishes to find his way out of wherever he is.

An elongated blink recenters the growing anxiety in the pit of his abdomen, the least helpful thing he can do now is panic. “Wanda.” He says her name both in his mind and in his comm unit, hopeful one, or both, will reach her, assuming she came through with him.

A second of silence rolls into a disheartening thirty seconds and then an agonizing minute, once he reaches two minutes he takes a deep breath, moving on to Step 3: Identify potential resources for return. It is his least favorite step, despite being the single most important one. Another breath expands his chest, synthetic lungs holding onto the sour air several seconds past his normal inhalation, and then they release, his perturbation vibrating out of his lips with barely a sound.

Hesitantly Vision mentally reaches for whatever internet is available here and, once identified, connects. He always accesses major news networks first, the headlines streaming through his mind at a breakneck pace as he struggles to identify any event in this universe that might have occurred to pull him over, leaving the insinuation it was something in his own home universe that led to his desertion. This is fine, this is good information, it just means he has less control than he would like, having to rely on anyone left at the site of his disappearance to bring him back. If Wanda is there, which he so desperately hopes she is (while also feeling guilty at the gnawing want of having her here with him now, even if it means she too is stranded), then she will no doubt get to him soon. This he cannot control and thus it is unhelpful.

The major news networks deemed useless, he dips into the archives about the Avengers, wanting to determine who is on their roster and if any of them have knowledge or capabilities of returning him. Or, as Wanda pointed out the last time this happened, if he were to get stuck, is the team made up of people he actually likes and would feel okay being with for some time. With a touch more force, he sends out a mental ping to his wife, one that he imbues with the weight of his anxiety, hoping that will help carry his signal farther.

He is getting distracted. Consciously and a bit reproachfully, he urges his attention back to the search, the roster, based on news articles and the official photos on the Avengers’ webpage, revealing the team is relatively the same, though he does notice his and Wanda’s pictures are in opposite corners. An oddity since they always put them next to each other. It is tempting to contact himself in these scenarios, except Dr. Strange warns against too much interference with one’s own life, something about ripples being sent across the other universes. He finds Dr. Strange enlightening and yet obfuscating, concepts, like the multiverse, grounded in science and yet the man also throws a shroud of mysticism over it when he wishes not to divulge the secrets of his craft.

This next search is one he knows he shouldn’t do, but curiosity (and a deeply rational justification that, if successful, it would be helpful) gets the best of Vision, mind cycling back to the distance between himself and his wife in the pictures. Search: William Maximoff. Results: 0. Vision frowns. Search: Thomas Maximoff. Results: 0.

Vision stands, immediately launching into a pace of six feet to the right, pivot, six feet to the left, repeat. Nothing in the protocol states he should care about this, all the multiverses different in some way. There are some where he doesn’t even exist as a synthezoid and others where Wanda is the daughter of a powerful mutant. It seems in this one they did not have the boys (a weight latches to his heart and begins to drag it down inch by inch) and it seems possible he and Wanda are not even together. This is where he should drop this line of inquiry and go back to the protocol. Except he can’t, and he blames it on the cognitive distortions caused by traveling unwillingly through the multiverse, his typical even keel knocked askew . Vision conjures up an image of Billy, entering it into a reverse image search, certain that nothing will come up. Results: 28. and a helpful suggestion of, Related search: William Kaplan .

“Vision!” His head snaps up, eyes squinting as he rises from the bench, body swiveling in the direction of her voice. “Vision!”

Yelling for each other is frowned upon in the protocols, comm units and telepathy (if available) much preferred to avoid making a scene, but her voice is untamed and dripping with the same anxiety flowing through his veins. “Wanda!” He rises into the air, just enough to see her stumbling up a low hill, her gait uneven, the left leg overcompensating for whatever is wrong with her right. In exactly 3.59 seconds he is at her side, arms wrapping around her waist to steady her and his lips conveying his relief with a series of five uncoordinated kisses to the part of her hair. “There is a bench over here.”

Gingerly he scoops her up, hovering them over to his spot of cogitation, and then he carefully settles her onto the boards of the bench, easing her right leg so it can lay flat. “I thought I was alone.”

“As did I.”

A smile, fluid and natural, loving and relieved, spreads across her face. “But then I felt you.”

Vision bends, capturing her lips and channeling his own relief into the action, overjoyed at having her with him. Until reality sets in, his prior search illuminating a shortfall in his selfish desires. “If we’re both here, the boys are alone.”

“Let’s find a way back then.” Wanda says it as if it is as simple as walking through a door or clicking your heels three times together. “Where’re you at in the protocol?”

How far his wife has come since their early days when, according to her, protocols were meant to be ignored. “Step 3.”

Impatience underscores her drawn out, “And…”

“I think,” this is where he discovers a crossroads in reasoning, do they go to the Avengers who likely have someone who can help with the multiverse or do they find William Kaplan, hoping he is analogous enough to their own son, one who can tear holes into reality with barely a shrug. “I may have located Billy.”

Wanda rubs her hand along her leg, scarlet sparking from her fingers as she no doubt assesses her injury. “Why do you sound so afraid?”

If he were to label his intonation, it would not have been fear, but his wife is far more attuned to the actual emotions of others, particularly his. Perhaps he is afraid, and it would, logically, be an appropriate response given what he discovered. “Because in this universe his name is Billy Kaplan, not Maximoff.”

“Oh.” A kaleidoscope of emotions filter across her face, eyes and mouth morphing from fear to sadness to disbelief until a single scrunch of her nose breaks the pattern, features dropping into a blank resoluteness she tends to show only on missions. “If we want to get home, we have to try.

———

Trying is always so uncomplicated in the planning phase before it unravels into frayed nerves, Vision’s finger poised in front of the buzzer, unable to commit to pushing a simple button.

“It’s not going to electrocute you.” The usual sardonic edge has been sanded down, revealing the grains of worry piling up in her mind the longer they draw this out.

“Would you like to do the honors?”

“Not really.”

Vision tightens his fingers around hers in what he hopes is a comforting squeeze of understanding and companionship. “Okay.” The two syllables start the countdown, his shaky breath that follows ends it, his finger pressing firmly against the little illuminated circle.

The dull click of the button precedes the crackle of the apartment’s comm system and then a familiar voice comes out of the speaker. “Who’s there?”

Wanda mouths Is that Teddy? and Vision nods, certain she is correct but he needs to focus on their task without distractions. He pushes the button and does his best to sound calm, “It is Vision and Wanda Maximoff,” this should be enough, except he has no way of knowing how highly (or not so highly) regarded or familiar they are to this universe’s Teddy, “from an alternate universe.” Wanda’s eye roll clearly spells out how she feels about his choice of words. All that matters is if it works, so he ignores her unspoken derision and waits for a response.

A staticky, “Ummmm one sec,” ends the conversation, leaving them in an anticipatory, antsy silence.

Ten minutes, 37 seconds, and 28 milliseconds later the elevator to their left dings, the door crawling open to reveal Billy standing there in jeans and a gray sweater, black hair styled more maturely than what Vision has ever seen from him. In fact, he appears at least a few years older than their own universe’s Billy. “Um hi,” the man studies them, blue licking the elevator doors to hold them open, his eyes scanning over them, briefly becoming fascinated with their interwoven fingers, and then he seems to reach a decision, a curt nod followed by a, “Why don’t you come on up.”

Vision allows Wanda to go first, his hand staying firmly on her back as they walk and it remains there throughout the dense silence of the elevator ride and the even denser, slower silence as they walk down the hall and enter an apartment. Teddy warmly greets them, “Come on in, have a seat.” Which they do, Wanda choosing a loveseat so they can sit together, her attention locked on the little dance of the two men, Teddy kissing Billy’s cheek and whispering something before disappearing behind a wall. He returns shortly after with a couple cups of tea and some chips.

Where Teddy seems mildly jovial and an expert host, Billy lowers himself into an armchair, suspicious eyes never leaving Vision and Wanda. “So what universe are you from?”

A philosophical debate the team had upon beginning to map the multiverse, a conclusion reached that Vision never much cared for. “We label our universe, egocentrically, as Earth-1.” An iota of amusement quirks up Billy’s mouth and Vision is confused at just how quickly pride fills his chest at the accomplishment. “Based on atmospheric readings, you are somewhere between Earth-600 and Earth-650, by our scientific labeling.”

Billy takes in the information, quietly sorting it with whatever knowledge he possesses and then follows Protocol 3253 (So You’ve Discovered Another You from the Multiverse), “How’d you get here?”

“We aren’t sure,” Wanda grips Vision’s knee as she talks, allowing her unease to flow into his body instead of her words, “We were battling a sorcerer and then the next thing we remember is being here.”

The explanation is considered and sorted, Billy’s mouth dropping into a downward concave. “Why’d you seek me out,” now he makes eye contact, a touch of animosity in his voice, “can’t the Scarlet Witch control reality in your universe?”

Wanda’s, “I can,” is small and bordering on timid, but her voice builds back up to her normal confidence when she provides what, at least in their universe, is the truth. “But not as well as you.” This doesn’t kick start any sort of remark, and so she tries an example, “Last week you casually sent your brother into an alternate dimension because he ate the last brownie.” Wanda laughs at the memory, concern breaking briefly into the joy of reminiscing, “It took me an hour to get him back and only because you,” she falters, realizing she is breaking protocol by treating this Billy as the same person, “our Billy finally told me where to look.”

The explanation is lost on the man in front of them, his mind stuck at the beginning of the story, “My brother?”

Vision nods, gently laying out the information, “Tommy Maximoff, your twin.”

A quiet, “We grew up together?” threatens to tear Vision’s soul in two, his body desperate to march over and envelop his son in his arms. Except this could not be his son, Kaplan a name Vision has never heard and it is clear that this universe’s Tommy may not be a Maximoff or even a Kaplan either.

Instead of a hug, Vision layers his, “You did,” with as much paternal warmth that he can, and then he clarifies the statement, their sons not yet adults and not even close to being done growing, “you are.”

“I,” Billy stands, lets out a deep sigh, turns towards them, then away, makes eye contact with Teddy (who may or may not have tears in his eyes), and then he simply states, “I’ll be back,” before disappearing through the floor in a blue portal.

Vision’s never had this effect on his son, and he turns his worry towards Teddy, “We have upset him.”

“Um,” the blonde haired man mulls over how to respond, “I think it’s safer to say the universe upset him.” A marginally more uplifting, yet still devastating fact. “He’ll be back.”

They wait in tense silence, Wanda leaning into Vision’s side, his body responding by wrapping an arm around her shoulder. And then there is a blue portal next to the coffee table, Billy yanking Tommy through with him.

In true Tommy fashion, neither his words nor opinions are minced, “What the ever loving fuck is going on?”

Wanda shoots Vision a look, warning him not to correct the language, and, just to be sure he won’t go full on polite police, she handles the response with a simple, “Nice to see you too, Tommy.”

Tommy doesn’t respond to her, turning to gesticulate wildly at Billy, “You said it was an emergency. I don’t want to get roped into whatever,” he flails an arm towards where they sit, “this is.”

“Tommy, slow down and look at them.”

An epic, unfiltered roll of his eyes conveys how very done with this situation the speedster is, but he obliges anyway, silently scrutinizing Wanda and Vision until he reaches a conclusion, “You look way cozier than you should.” Another sweep of scrutiny and another observation is provided, “Like the new look, Vision.” The use of his name stings, not because it is his name but because he has only ever heard it from their son in anger. Tommy doesn’t notice the effect it has, returning the conversation to Billy, “so what’s going on?”

“Multiverse shenanigans.”

“Ugh,” his disdain is evident, “great. Why am I here?”

Billy sits back down, picking up the no longer steaming cup of tea and takes a sip. “Can you tell us about your universe.” A broad question, one he realizes before anyone can answer. “About us, specifically.”

The question in Vision’s mind is where to start in the story, whether they begin with the inception of his and Wanda’s relationship or if they simply wish to know the barebones of the story, only the pieces where they themselves fit. “You’re our sons.” This isn’t the bombshell revelation he expected, neither Billy nor Tommy are surprised by this, which only grows the confusion that took root during Vision’s initial discovery of this universe’s Billy. “We have raised you and loved you for the last sixteen and a half years. You are part of—”

“Wait,” Tommy holds up a hand to stop the explanation, “the whole time?”

Wanda’s, “Yes,” is unflinching, “We’ve watched you grow into incredible men.”

To see Tommy speechless is unnerving, to know it is not a happy speechless is suffocating. Vision asks what he isn’t sure he actually wants to know, “Why does this seem unusual?”

A derisive laugh, one Tommy is a master of using, echoes around the apartment. “Oh I don’t know, because we’re the reason Scarlet Witch went insane, the reason she killed you,” he points at Vision and the words are nonsense, describing an action Wanda would never do. “Because as if that wasn’t bad enough, I won the lottery of reincarnation and had a shitty life I didn’t ask for. And then you two, you two don’t even try to be part of—”

“Tommy,” Billy stops the tirade, his twin throwing up his arms in frustration before crashing down onto a beanbag in the corner of the room. “Let me explain.” And he does, all of the harrowing details from Master Pandemonium to Mephisto, the dissolution of this universe’s Vision and Wanda’s marriage, and then he gets to their reincarnation. “Mom’s a psychologist,” the word mom causes Wanda to flinch, “dad’s a cardiologist,” and this forces Vision’s heart to metaphorically drop through the floor. “They’re good people, they try hard but I think my powers scare them a bit. High school was tough.” The way he says it implies it is an understatement.

“My parents are divorced, absent is a good word for them,” Vision’s heart enters the core of the Earth where it dissolves in fiery anger at the way this universe has treated his family, forcing them to be separated instead of together, “can’t blame them, though, I might have been a bit of an asshole trouble maker, went to juvey a few times,” Tommy pauses long enough to eat a chip, “got experimented on in there,” and this, above all else, sends Vision’s mind into despair. His memories of saving Tommy are superimposed with the knowledge that this man in front of him, this sarcastic, resilient man endured the same event ( and then worse) only without the knowledge he’d be saved, without the confidence that love would protect him. “But then I got broken out and we’ve been doing the Young Avenger thing for a while.”

“Do you,” Wanda falters, and Vision assumes it is because she, like him, is torn between wanting to know more while also being overwhelmed by all they’ve learned and all their boys have experienced here, “see us...them often?”

A shared stare, one that’s so common in the Maximoff household, provides the answer, each of them daring the other to say it. Billy, as usual, loses. “Depends...sometimes but not regularly.” He shrugs as if what he is saying is a simple fact of life instead of a dagger that can pierce vibranium skin, “everyone’s got lives to lead.”

“I see.” Those two words are empty and pointless and yet Vision can’t figure out anything profound or hopeful, far too burdened by what they’ve learned.

“Um I’m sure you want to get back to your sons,” the statement elicits in Vision a mixture of hope and yet also a harsh sting at the detached way Billy stated your sons . “So um you all ready to go home?”

Wanda stands first, holding out her hand for Vision to use (even though he does not physically need it) as he rises as well. “I think we should go while we can.”

They stand in a lopsided circle, staring at one another and then anywhere else. Wanda breaks the silence,“Thank you for helping us and for,” Vision wonders how she’ll finish it, because he himself doesn’t know what is appropriate here, “for talking with us.”

“Yeah,” Billy has always relied on empathy in moments of sadness, which is true of him here as well, a thirty degree slope of his lips enough to convey his honesty, “I’m glad to know in one universe we got to keep you as parents.”

A wetness rolls along Vision’s cheek, fingers lifting to brush aside the sorrow he’d been trying to hold in. Wanda doesn’t even attempt to levy the dam, her tears coming on strong as Billy, followed by a slightly reluctant Tommy, hugs her. A tendril of scarlet pulls Vision into the mix, his arms engulfing their divided family.

“We should go.” Wanda smiles sadly at them, her hand touching Tommy’s cheek first and then Billy’s, “We are so, so proud of who you are.”

“Alright, this is now too cheesy for me.” Tommy says it despite the fact Vision can also detect the quick swiping away of the speedster’s own tears.

Billy waves his right hand, opening a portal. Before walking through, Vision realizes he has one more thing to say. With three steps he is in front of Teddy, his hand held out. Once the man takes it, he shares a comforting fact, “It was nice to see you Teddy. I am glad you found each other here as well.”

A beaming smile emphasizes his elated, “Me too.”

With a final look at the three men, Vision and Wanda walk through the portal, stepping out into a landscape of ruination and collapsed buildings. Vision takes in a breath and is met with the familiar air of home. “We are in the correct universe.”

Despite the upward curve of her lips, his wife is unsettled, mind having not left their alternate lives. “How could we have just abandoned them?”

Vision weighs her question, himself also confused at the information. “I do not believe it is in our authority to judge decisions we do not fully know all the variables to.”

“Ever the infuriating diplomat, Maximoff.”

“Oh, my darling,” he swings her around, allowing him to grasp her shoulders firmly, face lowering just enough to rest his forehead to hers, “I cannot begin to fathom all they told us,” he will eventually, he reasons, what they learned today will no doubt haunt his thoughts and lead down many pathways of deep contemplation, “but what I do know, is that even though they may not have the Maximoff name anymore, they are still our sons, and no matter the universe, we will love them fiercely.”

Wanda accepts it, even if she seems less than wholly convinced, “I hope so.”

“Come along,” he twines his fingers through hers, giving her arm a slight tug forward, “I would like to find our boys and hug them for a few hours.”

“They’ll hate it.”

Vision shrugs, “They will survive it.”

#scarlet vision #wanda maximoff #vision #tommy maximoff #tommy shepherd #billy maximoff #Billy Kaplan #the maximoffs #mine #I hope this is canon accurate enough #slowly but surely catching up on asks #wandavision #ask anon

31 notes · View notes

fairydust-stuff · 3 years

Text

My thoughts on Asheiji: It drives me crazy!

Asheiji is one of those ships that leaves me very conflicted. While everyone else sings its praises constantly its never been a top ship of mine.

On the surface its a great ship. Eiji is the only person who see’s Ash as an actual human being rather then an object or a demon and Ash would do anything for Eiji. There is geninue warmth and the two of them seem to enjoy each others company.

Some of it is just personal preference like for instance that fact that Ash who is cold and distrustful of everyone just trusts Eiji after knowing him for two seconds and just hands over his gun because his eyes are so innocent. Yeah sorry that was kind of dumb in my opinion.

Also Eiji being presented as someone who’s moral but he has no problem with the stuff Ash is doing until he finds out the gangsters are unarmed its like????

But other then that Asheiji makes sense in universe. Ash is an abused prostitute/ gangster people either worship or degrade him and Eiji is the first one to show Ash actual kindness. He’s not apart of Ash’s world, he’s innocent and seems to have the freedom Ash craves.

Eiji is consumed by depression after the accident that resulted in a leg injury that made him give up pole vaulting and Ash seems fresh and exciting something to distract from his problems. That coupled with the two of them being into thrust into multiple adrenaline laced situations of survival and yes I can see how those feelings of attraction and caring are intensified.

But there are so many problems in this relationship I don’t think going to Japan is just going to casually fix.

Ash is controlling

Look i get it Ash constantly loses people, so he wants to do whatever is in his power to protect this new amazing person in his life. But regardless of his justifications.

Ash keeps Eiji in the dark constantly, he tries to trick/ ,manipulate him into going home on a few occasions. Having Bones and Kong take him to airport without telling Eiji and later hurting Eiji’s feelings so that he’ll go back to Japan. I know that Ash wants to protect him, but its still Ash forcing his will on Eiji and blatently ignoring that Eiji wants to stay by his side. If Ash was real he’d be the guy who put a tracker on Eiji’s phone without telling him.

And the thing is Eiji is not ok with this either. In the second half of the series Eiji states he wishes Ash would let him know what’s going on. When Ash brings up its to protect him. Eiji interjects with “I know but” and is dismissed again after he states once again he doesn’t like being useless. Ash wants a regular relationship but he’s not very good at stepping back and sharing the decision making process with Eiji as his partner.

Eiji is a lie

Maybe that’s an exaggeration but the prequel “Fly Boy in the Sky” reveals that Eiji hasn’t exactly lived the kind of carefree life. That Ash and Yut Lung think he has. A hospitalized dad, demanding althletic career, two full time jobs to make ends meet and a cheating mother who has a tendency to lash out at him.

Eiji never talks about his problems, his broken family or why he really left Japan even to Ash. Eiji also never discusses Shorter, Skip or anyone he saw die. This suggests that Eiji has crafted a perfect image of himself for Ash hiding the ugly parts of himself particularly his depression. So Ash doesn’t know Eiji beyond the image he’s crafted for Ash.

Eiji doesn’t understand Ash

I don’t think Eiji actually understands Ash and I don’t fault him for that. He’s a boy who grew up in a small town who’s niave. He’s not going to grasp just how messed up the trained child murder/sex slave is but Eiji seems to view being a gangster as a game. Its takes a while for it to sink in that this is serious but even then Eiji never seems to fully grasp who he’s decided to love. When faced with Yut Lung as a reflection of Ash’s dark side. Eiji is both repulsed and confused and to me it stands as a huge red flag, about how Eiji cann’t handle the reality of what Ash is.

Their communication issues

Communication is the thing that can either make or break a relationship and usually Ash and Eiji bottle up their issues until they both explode at each other! Sure they appologize for comments that crossed a line but the issues never get resolved and the ending just clinches why these two have terrible communication which I will get to.

Now this isn’t a bad thing persay lots of relationships start out with problems are no couple is perfect but the problem is these issues don’t get resolved in cannon if anything they get worse.

The ending

Honestly I had some hope that these two could actually improve Ash made an actual appology and Eiji showed by leading a rescue party showing Ash first hand that Eiji isn’t completely helpless. Ash even let Eiji join in the final battle aginst Fox and stopped trying to send him back to Japan. So it looked like baby steps were being made.

Then Ash had to go and blow a hole in his own ship by deciding to make the choice that Eiji had to lose him again without even consulting Eiji on the matter and anyone who knows Eiji would realize this was the absolute worst thing to do to him!

Conclusion

I don’t not ship it and i’ll even write it but in cannon they are kind of a deeply flawed train wreck and I think the fandom overall ignores the deep seated problems these two have.

I want to smack both of them and yell “ Get thee to a relationship councilor!” I think even if Ash hadn’t died them lasting would of been questionible at best but stranger couples have made it in real life so who knows.

its not a deal breaker for me. A little work and these two could be really great but overall i’m really picky about my Asheiji fics because the majority of the fandom writes Asheiji as this flawless couple and Eiji gets overly woobied and yeah it just does not appeal to me.

#asheiji #ash lynx #eiji okumura #meta #not anti asheiji #but critical asheiji

10 notes · View notes

away-from-anthills · 3 years

Text

chapter five-

He recalled what Tatteredstar had said at the last Gathering as Whitetooth’s words echoed throughout his heart.

Rosefire. He had done little wrong- in his eyes, the only hope for a future was the Clans united. In his eyes, Tatteredstar and Eelwhisker were enemies that had to be vanquished. And yet his attempt at rebellion was gone as soon as it began, like a hare plucking and eating a sprout from the ground. He was killed, or at least that was what Tatteredstar’s dark tone implied, and as far as Antstar knew those who worked with him were likely either on close watch or driven out entirely. He presented a weakness and a challenge to her leadership, and so she handily dispatched him.

But could he say the same of Sparkthistle?

There was no indication she was to actually plan something. There was no indication she had the willpower to truly try to stop Antstar. But every so often, there was this inescapable look in her eye of hatred, and every time Antstar caught it he felt sick.

Would the Clan be better off without her?

Antstar had been just made a warrior when Sparkthistle and Cherrycloud had been born. Their mother was one of the most respected warriors in her Clan at the time, and she had great expectations thrust upon her two daughters. Initially, she adored Sparkkit the most, as Sparkkit had ambitions that Cherrykit did not. She made her favoritism shockingly clear, despite the warnings of Crowflower. But as time went on, when the two mollies were apprenticed, Cherrypaw emerged the more naturally gifted one while Sparkpaw struggled. Their mother’s opinions on them flipped dramatically. Now it was Cherrycloud that could do no wrong, Cherrycloud that deserved all the love in the world; Sparkthistle was a candy wrapper, read once and then discarded. Sparkthistle had been deeply embittered ever since- part of it from cynicism, and part of it because she wanted to emulate her mother to some extent.

It wouldn’t be fair to deny Sparkthistle the rest of her life, to cut her off short. But she had been this way ever since she was an apprentice, and there was no sign she would ever change. But it was as if Whitetooth’s words had bored a hole in his skull. And Sparkthistle is never going to get better, either.

“You’re thinking about what warrior name you want to give me, aren’t you,” said a cheeky voice as Antstar left his thoughts and sunk back to earth. It was Spiderpaw, looking back at him as she sprang into the grasses.

“You haven’t passed your assessment yet,” he reminded her.

“I know I will.” Spiderpaw had all the confidence of a wren challenging a bull. She smirked and trotted away to complete her assessment- then, suddenly, stopped in her tracks and looked back to see if Antstar was watching.

“I have to watch you in secret.” Antstar nodded his head upward, as if he were pushing her away. “Go on.”

She slunk into the grasses, which were turning the deep golden color that late greenleaf always brought upon itself. The sun peeked out from the pitch-black clouds above them, giving everything a surreal yellow glow. Away Spiderpaw went to get herself into the swing of hunting- and as she did, Antstar started to pace in circles, thinking about the Sparkthistle predicament.

Mentor and apprentice were on the far end of WindClan territory, away from the Clan, away from the other Clans, away from the world. Besides the slight rustle of grasses that followed Spiderpaw as she stalked a rabbit and the distant creaks and sighs of the windmills on the horizon, Antstar found the air deathly still, except for his thoughts which buzzed within him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a figure. It was Twoleg-like in shape and size, and after cowering from it instinctively, Antstar realized it was a familiar figure. Shalestar told him back when he was apprenticed that the object was called “Scare Crow”, and that the loners who lived in the barn thought of it as a friend. Scare Crow was moved around by the farmers to keep birds off the nearby crops, but yet it always remained perfectly still, as its skin was burlap and its veins were hay straw.

“Did it always sit like that?” he had asked.

“Perhaps.” Shalestar had looked off into the horizon, the warmth of being about to tell a good story curling up the corners of his lips. “Legend has it that, many moons ago, StarClan took pity upon Scare Crow, and reanimated him to come alive and live among the Clans. His humanoid, flawed figure was made feline. His burlap became handsome tawny tabby fur, his straw became flesh and blood, and his buttons became two beautiful eyes the color of harvested wheat. Scare Crow was sent to live among the Clans, and so he did- but, having once not been a cat, he never truly fit in, despite the beautiful appearance StarClan gifted him. When he was trying to woo a molly to take as his mate, they strolled together through Sunningrocks. In the reflection of the Sunningrocks’s water lay Scare Crow’s true self- ragged, ugly, weather-beaten and lopsided. He ran away, sobbing at the discovery of who he truly was, and StarClan realized then that it was more humane, more gentle, more right to strip him of his mortal coil and turn him back into his true self as the being of straw and burlap. He has remained here ever since.”

More humane. More gentle. More right. More right to stop them. More right to end them.

More right to kill them.

Sparkthistle had barely any friends. Her bitter, dour nature led her to be quite an outcast in the Clan’s community, save for Stoatslink, and even then he didn’t seem entirely approving of her. She had to be miserable. And the Clan was miserable any time they interacted with her. Furthermore, if she was turning on Antstar, she could turn on all the community. If a rival Clan asked her for intel, she could flip. She had little attachment to anyone in the Clan, so it was excruciatingly imaginable that her hatred for Antstar would outweigh her loyalty to WindClan…

His train of thought was halted by a squeak as Spiderpaw bit through the throat of a juvenile rabbit. He watched as the dark gray tabby carefully lined up her kill by a fallen log- leaving plenty of space for the next prey she was to catch.

He knew he was going to pass her. How couldn’t he? She had already proven herself. But having her hunt alone and complete the traditional assessment gave Antstar the space he needed to process the decision he already felt doomed to make.

Sparkthistle could find peace in the afterlife. She had never done anything deserving of Hell, no matter how many times Antstar had probably muttered that under his breath when dealing with her. Perhaps she could calm herself in the heavens in a way that she could never truly do in her mortal life. StarClan would be a kinder land than the rough earth and harsh sky of WindClan.

Maybe he was trying to rationalize himself here.

But then again- what could be gained from her continued flesh-and-blood existence? At best she was an annoyance. At worst… at worst she was an outright security risk.

There was the thumping of paws. Spiderpaw was in full chase, a shrew just before her. It ducked one way and another, around the bend and back again, into and through a log. Faster and faster they went, despite the shrew being so small, so unnecessary, so unimpactful in the grand scheme of the world at large and its moon. And as Antstar made his decision- as Antstar looked to the sky, looked to the unblinking amber sun, hoping that StarClan was with him and approved, hoping that StarClan knew he was doing this for WindClan’s sake- she leapt, and the shrew went out with a final cry, so unimportant and yet defiant to the last in spite of the very jaws that would always defeat it.

As they went home, Spiderpaw holding her catches and lost in the daydreams of what her warrior ceremony might be like, Antstar could only think of what he was about to do. Spiderpaw’s warrior name- something that once seemed so momentous, so important only a scant few days ago- already felt dwarfed by the matter of Sparkthistle’s fate. Antstar paused by the edge of the medicine den. The air he was about to speak with felt like it was caught in his throat. Whitethroat slunk out, always alert, almost as if they already knew he was there.

“About what you said a few days ago.”

Whitetooth nodded attentively.

“…Can we go through with it tonight? As fast as possible, I- I don’t want to think about it too hard.”

Whitetooth took a moment to respond, already visibly figuring out how they would do it. They looked towards the den, where Marblepaw was chewing up a poultice, and then into the general direction of the gorge. Ears pricked, eyes intense, looking almost more like a ferret surveying the land than a cat.

And then, they nodded. A transaction was about to begin.

“The weather is ripe for it… As you wish, Antstar. I am your dearest servant.”

That night, the sky was dark. Thick black clouds had continued to roll in, and there was the distant rumble of storms beyond the horizons. Brief, misty scatters of rain speckled the dusty earth.

Antstar watched the Clan go to sleep, one by one. While some still decided to sleep out in the open hollow, others that were worried about the chance of storm hid away in burrows scattered throughout the camp area, and slowly, the Clan came to rest. He had asked there be no guards or vigils held on this night- while the threat of impending rain acted as justification, he needed there to be no eyes, nothing that could possibly spot him when he and Whitetooth figured out what to do with the body.

“I tell you,” snarled a certain ginger tabby from afar, “I am not sick. I don’t know why you think I am.”

Whitetooth, however, wasn’t fettered. They circled her like an adder, their brown tail gently stroking her flank as if they were attempting to tame a wild horse. “I am aware you may think that. But I can already recognize symptoms of kittencough in you, and the sickness takes a few days to set in. If we treat you now, you won’t be sick later.”

Sparkthistle snarled in defiance, but after a moment of contemplation, she followed Whitetooth into the abandoned rabbit burrow that made up the medicine den. “Fine. So long as you make this quick, pal.”

As she did so, Whitetooth scurried over to Antstar, in that silent, almost eel-like way they were so skilled at. They leaned in slightly and began to whisper. “When I give you the signal-“ -they twitched their left ear- “I want you to come in. We must do this tonight, Antstar- else they may catch onto us.”

From there, Antstar carefully watched, pacing around camp to get a good look into the medicine den. Marblepaw seemed fast asleep at the entrance, her head resting upon a clump of mosses she had fetched earlier that day. In fact, just about everyone was asleep now save for the leader, his medicine cat, and their target. Sparkthistle caught the amber glow of Antstar’s eyes and stared at him as Whitetooth took something small and dark and stuffed it into a dead shrew.

“Kittencough,” they began, speaking in the voice of a lecturing mentor, “is usually much like a mild case of whitecough. The issue, however, is that it is very contagious and can be deadly for kits and elders. Usually, we treat it with whitecough medicines and drowsiness-inducing herbs, so that way the cat involved does not spread it and risk hurting the most vulnerable.”

But Sparkthistle’s yellowish-amber eyes indicated she had paid little attention to their monologue. “Why is Antstar there?” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

“He and I are having a conversation once you fall asleep. Mostly about the next Moonstone meeting, StarClan, those types of affairs. That, and figuring out what we’ll do about herbs come leaf-fall.”

“In the night? With this weather?”

“The night lends impulse to new ideas, my Clanmate.”

And then- slowly, slyly, they brought the shrew towards her. The very same shrew Spiderpaw had caught in her apprentice exam. For a brief moment that felt like nine lives and a day, Whitetooth made eye contact with Antstar.

This was it. The last chance to stop now. The last chance to keep Sparkthistle alive.

Every joint in Antstar’s limbs wanted to move, to give a last-minute refusal. And yet, he stood perfectly still.

Whitetooth turned back to Sparkthistle. For a moment it felt in Antstar’s mind as though she had already died. Perhaps, in a sense, she had.

“Here. I want you to take this. Medicine can trouble an empty belly if one is not careful.”

Sparkthistle sniffed it carefully, her pink speckled nose twitching with apprehension. Finally, she gave in, slowly taking a mouthful, ripping away at the skin.

“Now, I’ve put some medicines into this shrew of yours, as to clear out the kittencough. You shall feel drowsy. But- and this is important- do not be alarmed.”

There was a crunch as she bit into the black seeds that Whitetooth had enclosed within the shrew’s flesh.

“Everything is going to be perfectly fine.”

For a moment, Sparkthistle remained perfectly unaffected, continuing to nose around the shrew to pick out its best meat. Suddenly, however, her paw began to twitch. She looked around uneasily, as if her vision was beginning to spot out. She looked at Whitetooth, but Whitetooth gave her the same soothing stare they always had.

“Is it supposed to feel-“

“Like that? Yes.”

She got up to her paws, swaying back and forth like a tree about to topple in a storm. Saliva began to bubble from her jaw.

“I’ve had drowsiness herbs before, and they’ve-“ She struggled to speak. The deathberries had already coursed through her tongue, gradually paralyzing it. Her slurred words devolved into mumbled, slobbery vocalizations. Then, suddenly, Whitetooth knocked her to the ground and pinned her there.

They twitched their right ear as they stared at Antstar. That was the signal.

Antstar rushed in, silently, holding the ginger molly down as spasms shook her. She looked up at him, and he pushed her head into the ground to keep her still as she writhed and tried best she could to fight back. Her stare back at him bore into his very heart, gripping and shaking his very being. She had figured out what was going on, now. This was no look of anger, or of annoyance, or even of betrayal. No, this was a look Antstar had only seen before a scant few times. The look of a cat freezing as a monster runs out before them. The look of a young hare as a patrol leader strikes the killing blow. It was a look of pure, unadulterated horror.

Antstar stepped back instinctively. For a second, a further worry flashed through his head- had he let her go?

But the ginger body simply sank to the earth like a rug wet from saliva and rustled with struggle, sinking inward like a balloon that had slowly deflated from a puncture.

Sparkthistle was gone.

Antstar felt worry creep in as he scouted the clearing, over and over again to make sure the glint of no eye caught him. Behind him, he could hear Whitetooth clean up the blood-tinged cluster of foamy saliva that had pooled around Sparkthistle’s head. For a moment, he checked to ensure that Marblepaw was still asleep, and he felt slight relief when he saw the apprentice still lay in her nest, seemingly deep within a dream.

“Now,” Whitetooth whispered, stepping back as if they were admiring their own handiwork of having cleaned up the den. “What we’ll do is drag this over to the gorge. You would like to hide the body, correct?”

Antstar nodded fervently.

“Right. I know exactly what we shall do.” They picked up Sparkthistle by the scruff of her neck. Her shoulders hung limply. The white medicine cat indicated the other half of her body, and Antstar picked it up by the lower spine. Carefully, the two cats dragged her out and away without making a sound, through the gorse tunnel and out of camp. Dust gathered on her paws as they were dragged across the earth. Whitetooth’s grip was confident, certain; Antstar’s was far shakier and he had to fight to keep his jaw clamped. He had never realized how small Sparkthistle was. How small any cat was, really. It felt as though he were asleep in the leader’s den, and this was all some mad dream that he was watching from the distance of the mind.

Suddenly, Whitetooth came to a stop, and Antstar had to stop himself from falling forward onto the body. They looked down into the river, which looked as black and endless as the clouded sky that loomed above them, and then across to ensure no RiverClan cat had caught sight of them.

“…Why stop here?” Antstar started to ask, but his question was answered by the precise stare that Whitetooth was sending into the depths of the waters below.

“Check to make sure there’s no blood on her or sign of injury,” they instructed. Antstar carefully looked over the body, which had gradually grown a tad stiff. There was still a line of froth around her lip, but besides this, nothing had remained of the desperate struggle from earlier.

“…Nothing of the sort.”

“Good.”

“… We’re going to throw her into the river, right?”

“I knew you had figured it out already. You’re a smart cat. Any scent of deathberry- or us- will be soaked away by the water. If she is dragged away by the current, we shall say she clearly ran off because of her distaste towards your leadership.”

“And if she is found, she…?”

“She stumbled over the edge. Lots of cats have fallen to their deaths here. It wouldn’t look a moment out of place.”

Antstar pushed the body over. It rolled lopsidedly, like a chipped pebble; and soon slipped off the edge. Turning over itself, flank over flank, it fell into the black river and was swallowed up by the hungry waves. There was a hint of orange, and then it was gone.

Antstar looked to Whitetooth. “Can we…” His throat choked upon itself. “Can we never speak of this again?”

Whitetooth nodded. A talon of lightning darted out of one of the clouds nearby, and there was a corresponding grunt of thunder.

They walked back to camp, side by side, master and servant. Antstar looked at the ground, not daring to look ahead; Whitetooth, unflinching as ever, looked right ahead, squinting slightly to keep the dapples of raindrops from hitting their eyes. They slipped into the medicine den, doing one last check to make sure any indication of a struggle had vanished.

Everything was silent, there. Clumps of moss, diligently organized by type and age, lined the den. The nests, clean as ever, were empty. Except for one, which held Marblepaw.

Antstar paid close attention to Marblepaw’s figure. She was shuddering a bit, her breath shaky. Was she having a nightmare? Or- or had she-

Antstar felt his nerves coil in terror as he realized her amber eyes were wide open.

“Whitetooth!” he whispered, a sudden sharpness to the syllables as panic clutched him. “Whitetooth, your apprentice-“

But Whitetooth was unfettered as ever. “Do not fear, Antstar.” They laid a paw on Marblepaw’s shoulder, and she recoiled slightly, gasping with fright. But she stayed in position, letting the medicine cat’s pale, cold pawpads touch her warm dark tabby pelt.

“She can keep a secret very well,” they said, a sudden darkness in their words. “And if not- I can make her keep it.”

This was wrong. This was very, very wrong, and Antstar felt a pang of sympathy for the little apprentice. It was only now he realized he had never seen her befriend anyone else in the Clan.

But it had to be done. For WindClan.

And so, Antstar walked off to the leaders’ den. Just as he got in, rain fell in great, big curtains, obscuring his view of camp. He checked for a moment if he could see any glitters of light from his Clanmates’ eyes, in case they had awoken and seen at least something, but he was reassured by the uniformly dark rainy landscape before him. Slowly, his trembling breaths began to ease into sleep once more.

He thought of Whitetooth, of Marblepaw, even Sparkthistle. How much had changed in the past few hours alone. He had gone from leader, to murderer-

No! He was no murderer, he told himself. He had simply -disposed- of her. She was leading a rotten life and all he had done was let her leave it. And if he truly had murdered her, it was for the best of WindClan, for their safety. If warriors could kill in the midst of battle, if medicine cats could end the suffering of the burdened, nothing he had done was out of line. It was the best for everybody.

But when he looked back to the sky, to be reassured by starlight, all he found was the thick rain battering the earth.

#warrior cats #Warrior Cats OCs #story

16 notes · View notes

fae-fucker · 3 years

Text

Zenith: Chapter 72-75

Chapter 72

We’re in Nor’s POV. She’s moping around in her ruined palace. We find out she ordered the attack on Adhira on a whim after learning Valen was there. Cool.

This entire chapter is about how Nor is doubting herself and how she feels shitty even though this should be a triumph, and Zahn, her boytoy who’s literally described as being “too good” and “too pure” for her, telling that she’s a girlboss. Then they make out and “lust tumbles through her” and the chapter ends on them fucking.

Chapter 73

Last we left her, Andi had angsted herself out of the room after an argument with her dad. She walks the gardens for a bit, thinking about the creation myth of this world. It involves Light Bringers and Night Spirits, and two of them fall in love and from their union a black hole is born, but around it a galaxy forms, and it also creates the Godstars, which are described as “all-knowing beings with the power to give and take, the perfect mixture of darkness and light.”

So with all this wank about light and dark, you bet your ass Andi’s gonna start rambling about how dark and/or light her soul is, which she promptly does.

The creation myth is ... fine? In theory? But something light and something dark falling in love and creating the world is a bit trite, innit? Baby’s first creation myth.

Arcardius was the first planet inhabited by the Ancients hundreds of thousands of years ago, and many believed that the Godstars must have given the settlers this gift to welcome them to their new home. But whatever the reason, Andi was grateful for it. She didn’t want to be in the presence of darkness after everything that had happened. She needed to clear her mind of all that had been clogging it since the beginning of the rescue job.

I think “clogging” is a more apt description than Shinsay realized.

Andi angsts herself to a new place with a floating rock waterfall fountain thing, where Valen is, equipped with his painting gear. We get a description of how hot he is despite having been beaten and starved for two years, because of course.

His brown hair was cropped short and, skinny as he was, it made his strong jaw more pronounced. Everything about his once-soft face was now hard edges. No doubt, with some more meat on his bones, he would be striking.

The boy she remembered from years ago had now become a man.

Damaged as he must be on the inside, at least his physical wounds would heal. The awful things he had experienced at the hands of Xen Ptera would hopefully become a distant memory, as well, and more bearable with time.

The way the “hope he’ll heal emotionally as well, I guess” is tacked on right after “at least he’ll be hot” is wildly hilarious.

Valen asks if he can paint Andi. For some reason he immediately starts putting paint on canvas, because fuck sketching, he’s too fucking good for that. Also what’s the lighting situation like? He’s waxing poetic about the way the light hits Andi’s cheek plates and purple streaks (with red tips that reaches her mid-back), but seemingly doesn’t need any light on his canvas to see what the fuck he’s doing, in the middle of the night? Ok.

Later Valen, with a paint-stained face because Artiste, asks Andi if they can go somewhere else because he needs a break. They go somewhere with a view of the Magical Purple Pinterest Garden, and it’s very breathtaking and shit.

“We’ve been through darkness, Andi,” Valen said. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t still live in the light.”

He closed his eyes, and Andi was left to ponder how much his words echoed her own thoughts from earlier, about the balance between the light and the dark.

Thank you for pointing out the thematic connection from THREE PAGES AGO IN THE SAME CHAPTER, Shinsay. I couldn’t have figured it out myself if you hadn’t held my hand like the imbecile I am. Seriously, I can’t figure out whether this is supposed to be helpful, or if Shinsay really thought they were geniuses and just had to point it out so we wouldn’t miss how cool and deep their writing is.

Anyway, Valen asks Andi to the obligatory ball portion of the story, saying he’ll have to dance as the future ruler of the planet (???) and he wants to dance with a friend rather than a romantic interest.

A friend.

He said the word as if he really meant it. As if, somehow, despite what they’d been through, the horrors they’d shared, Valen had begun to think of Andi as a friend.

Wow ... When he said friend, he meant friend, as in friend? Amazing. What a shocker.

Also, yeah, they did go through some horrors together. Like that time Dex tossed him down a flight of stairs while Andi was somewhere else. Or that time Valen was tortured for two years and Andi wasn’t.

Truly, a friendship of the ages.

I guess this is supposed to be a misdirect, but given how blatantly unrealistic this is and how easily Andi falls for it, it just makes her look a bit like an idiot, doesn’t it?

Chapter 74

This chapter is just Andi heading back to bed but taking a detour to the library, discovering that Alfie has been destroyed while some servants throw his body in the garbage on the way.

Oh no! Not Alfie, who’s only the most annoying character! Anyone but Alfie!

We get this:

As she turned to leave, a small, shiny object on the floor caught her eye. Quickly, Andi reached down and palmed it while the maid wasn’t looking. She didn’t know much about AIs, but the object in her grasp looked like a memory chip.

[...]

It could be nothing, a useless memento, but her gut told her something different. She’d look into it later.

I-is this supposed to be foreshadowing? You literally already told us what it was, why would Andi’s “gut” be telling her something she already suspects according to her narration?

Henlo? Editors? Anyone? Hello?

Hewwo? Mistew Pwesident?

Chapter 75

Dex has been following Andi around like a whole creep and watches her enter the library. He follows her inside and then we get the obligatory “shitty writer praises the magic of literature” bit.

“The general scoured the galaxy for this collection,” Andi said suddenly.

Dex turned. She stood near him in the dark room, softly lit by a beam of moonlight. The sadness in her eyes could almost be felt, like a tangible thing.

“You said Kalee was a reader,” Dex said. He laughed softly. “I didn’t know she was this much of a reader.”

“She loved exploring,” Andi said. “The general loved keeping her close. And so she turned to books for her adventures.”

“The sadness in her eyes was almost tangible.” There, I fixed it. Now shut the fuck up.

“What is it about memories,” Andi said suddenly, walking back toward him, “that gives them the ability to hurt us so badly?”

Dex shook his head. “The past is powerful. I think you and I both know that.”

She finally looked into his eyes. “I’m tired of letting the past control me, Dextro,” she whispered. “Aren’t you?”

I’m tired of letting this book control me, that’s for sure. What is this fucking dialogue? They keep talking in clichés without really saying anything, wasting our goddamn time instead of having an actual conversation.

Anyway, they finally get everything over with, apologize to each other, then make out but decide that uwu they can’t be together because they’re so hurt and damaged and whatnot. And honestly this wouldn’t be so cringeworthy if we didn’t know it’s all just a fucking ploy to drag out the will-they-won’t they subplot that I’m sure you’re all on the edge of your seats over.

The main reason this doesn’t work is that we don’t really get any sense of why this can’t work out? They just mutually agree, after having a hot makeout sesh, that they’re not meant to be for ... reasons? Even though they’re clearly attracted to each other, have no other attachments, romantic or otherwise, and have forgiven one another. Dex thinks they both “ruined” their future together in their own ways, but we don’t get any explanation for why they can’t just ... try to build a new one. Not even a “the memories hurt too much” or “I can’t afford the mental and emotional effort right now” or “there’s no time for it with the galaxy in chaos” or even a simple “I don’t want to.”

Instead it’s “I know we’re not meant to be because we both screwed the pooch last time we tried” and you’re just there like yes and? What’s stopping you from trying again? Give me a reason. IRL that would’ve been fine, but here it just feels like the authors are trying to convince US that they won’t get together, trust me, I promise, don’t even think about it and let it blow you away when they do.

I think, weirdly enough, the reason this doesn’t work for me is the perspective. Andi has actual valid reasons for rejecting Dex and seems like she’s still conflicted about her feelings for him, which would give her plenty of justification to not jump back into the relationship. But instead, we’re stuck with Dex, who’s been desperate to talk to Andi, be around Andi, who thinks about Andi constantly, but now, when a new beginning is within his reach, he decides without reason to not go for it because what, he feels like it’s not right and assumes it’s mutual? It doesn’t track with his previous behavior, which has been constantly focused on Andi up until this point. His sudden and inexplicable decision to not pursue this anymore goes against his behavior and motivations so far, which is why it strikes me as hollow and manipulative writing.

Had he maybe wanted to offer a new start but then Andi said something or he saw how unsure and hurt she still was and decided against it, then it would’ve made sense. Had we been in Andi’s POV and she just straight up rejected him, it would’ve made sense. But here, we get:

“We can’t... This won’t ever...”

“I know,” he said.

And in his heart, he knew that it was true. Their two worlds were never meant to become one. That even through the forgiveness, even with the unavoidable feelings that echoed between them, they could never share a future. They had already had their chance, long ago. They’d both ruined it in their own ways.

Andi doesn’t even give him a proper reason, he just assumes what she’s saying because apparently he’s been thinking the same thing? His “heart” just tells him it won’t work, when all this time, he’s seemingly done everything in his power to fix what he always knew wasn’t fixable? Huh???

I’m not saying this to say that Dex should’ve pestered Andi, he can very well accept her rejection but still pine for her silently. What I am saying is that this doesn’t track with his previous behavior, and just shows the authors’ hands in this as being a cop-out for the sake of melodrama and to keep the romance subplot going through cheap conflict.

Anyway, Dex asks Andi to the ball and she’s like “lmao too late” and then the chapter ends on this note:

When they parted ways, Dex couldn’t help but feel as if he were seeing Androma Racella for the very last time.

God, I wish that were me.

#eff reads: zenith

6 notes · View notes

wickedmilo · 3 years

Photo

YOU’RE REALLY NOT MY TYPE | MILO & LUCE

PLACE: A dive bar TIMING: 1:13 AM SUMMARY: Tired of drinking alone, Milo approaches Luce and makes an attempt to befriend her. It does not go well. WRITING PARTNER: @divineluce CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcoholism, inebriation, PTSD

Milo was drunk. If he considered being inebriated a regular occurrence before his death, he had taken things to an entirely new level after waking up as a vampire. Even with Harsh making an effort to help him learn and understand, things were difficult. Beyond difficult. He missed his old life, missed being in the centre of a crowd, making friends with every single stranger in the smoking area, going home with someone without even knowing their name. He couldn’t do any of those things anymore. Not without an overwhelming desperation for blood. Not without fear, and anxiety clawing viciously at his chest. That didn’t ease the need to drink though, his body was still craving what it had been relying on for years. There was only so much he could do before being alone and sober became too much. Which was how, not for the first time, he found himself at a bar.

It was stupid, he knew it was stupid. But he was so tired. If he could steal even a semblance of his old life back, then he was going to try. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting alone, staring down at the dregs in his glass, before he finally forced himself to his feet. There was a girl who didn’t look too far from his age, sitting alone just across from where he was lurking in the shadows. If she didn’t want company, he would leave. And if his bloodlust became too great, he was confident he would find a way to excuse himself. With that justification playing over in his mind, he set down his empty glass on her table. “Any chance you’ve reached the point of realising how depressing it is to drink alone, and wouldn’t say no to some company?” He asked, his voice lazy, drawn out by the alcohol in his system. “I mean, tell me to screw myself and I’ll go- I swear, I just- well, I’ve reached that point.”

The nightmares were still coming. She’d heard bits and pieces of the weird dream situation from fucking Leah of all people, a fact that irritated Luce to no end. She’d heard that whatever supernatural bullshit that had been fucking with the town’s collective sleep schedule was over. But, tonight-- just like so many other nights-- Luce’s dreams had jolted her awake and driven her from the place she called home. She could see Lydia’s face, staring at her, wide eyed as she stalked towards her. She could see herself, blood rolling down the wound in her leg, dripping from the knife she’d yanked out of her own flesh. Luce had watched, hovering behind Lydia, and had seen the unrelenting rage in her own eyes as she’d lunged forward and stabbed the iron spear through her body. Luce had felt the iron burn and sear against her skin, she’d heard the begging, pleading screams that still haunted her to this day. And then she’d woken up. And dragged herself here. Some shitty hole in the wall bar with shitty, cheap whiskey. But at least it was cheap.

Staring at the bottom of her glass Luce paused mid sip as some random kid approached her table. He looked as though he’d been drinking just as long as she had and he sounded it too. “If you’re making a pass, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” She said, more tired than irritated for once. “If you actually just want to drink. Sure. Go for it.” She said and gestured to the chair next to her.

Milo laughed, unable to stop the sound from escaping his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He teased, his tone lighthearted, as he took a seat. “You’re really not my type.” Getting comfortable, something that was all too easy to do considering how inebriated he was, he tapped his fingers absentmindedly against his glass. If he leaned back against his chair a little, he could almost ignore the close proximity, the smell of his company’s blood. “So,” he started, watching the girl sitting across from him with an open curiosity. People didn’t just drink alone at bars when they were happy. Not in his experience, at least. “Do you get hit on by strangers very often?”

“Good cuz you’re not mine either.” Luce snorted. This guy looked like he was Nell’s age. A fucking kid. But, hey, if he was old enough to drink, so be it. And even if he wasn’t, she didn’t really give a shit. As he made himself comfortable, Luce stared at the ice cubes in her glass, willing them to melt. She wanted them to melt. For them to bubble and froth and to sublimate straight to vapor. But, they sat stubbornly whole in a pool of amber. Glancing over at the kid, she laughed. “No. Other way around.” She said before lifting the glass to her lips, “Usually, not right now though. Not really looking for that kind of company tonight. And if I was, it wouldn’t be here. Flaming Mo’s, Friction, anywhere but this shitty little bar.” She said, rattling off the usual haunts. Well, usual before shit had gone down with Remmy and Nadia, before her magic refused to flow through her veins.

Milo smiled. The easy, playful nature of the conversation was allowing him to relax. There was still a faint voice in the back of his mind telling him he couldn’t afford to, but it was the same voice that occasionally told him not to drink, or not to accept an unnamed substance from a stranger. He had been readily ignoring it for years. “Oh, really?” He asked, grinning easily at his company’s admission. He had a feeling he was going to like her. “So what’s got you drinking in this shitty little bar?” He asked. “There has to be a reason you aren’t at Flaming Mo’s, or Friction.” He downed what was left in his glass, dregs, really, before turning his attention back to the girl.

Still staring at the ice cubes in her cup, Luce’s lips curled slightly at his question. Nope. A lot of shit had happened in the last year. A lot had changed, including her. But, she still wasn’t the type to just fucking unload her problems to some stranger at the bar. Let alone some kid who looked like he could barely afford his drinks. “Sometimes people just want a change in scene. Nothing wrong with that.” She said coolly, lifting her glass back to her lips. “What about you, huh? What’s got you here? There are plenty of other places in town that don’t card. And they’ve at least got a more lively scene than this,” Luce gestured to the sleepy looking bar, filled with other people who had been doing the same as her before this kid rolled up. They were all quietly stewing in their own thoughts, in their own misery, with a glass in hand because it was easier than sitting in the dark at home.

Milo knew from the look the girl gave him that she wasn’t about to tell her story. Which was only fair when he considered the fact that he definitely wasn’t ready to share his own. “A change of scenery like a downgrade?” He teased, glancing around at the less than classy establishment. There were posters tacked to the walls, thrown into focus by dingy, yellow lighting. The bar was small, the bottles behind it suspiciously dusty. And the lack of patrons was a sign of just how poor the customer service was. In a way, he almost liked it. It felt good to be somewhere so… unbothered. Whoever owned this place wasn’t out to draw crowds, or make money. They just wanted to give people a place to mournfully drown their sorrows, and he respected that.

“Me? Oh, I really was looking for a downgrade.” He countered, sarcasm dripping from his tone. His eyes were shining though, a sign of his good nature. “You think I’m not old enough to drink? I’m 22.” He assured her, amused by the assumption. He had a list compiled in his head of every place in town that didn’t card at the door. Even though he didn’t need it anymore, the information seemed to be seared into his brain. Waving his hand, brushing off the mention of a livelier scene, he wrinkled his nose. He wanted a livelier scene, it just wasn’t an option for him right now. He had begrudgingly been forced to settle. “I’m kind of avoiding people right now…” He realised approaching her contradicted his statement, but it was the truth. Or sort of the truth. “Trying to, anyway.” He added. “Guess I’m not cut out for drinking alone.”

Lips pressing together in a thin line, Luce finished off the last of her drink. “Change of scene like people not bothering me here.” She said pointedly. This wasn’t a place where people made conversation, or met with some friends after work for drinks. That was what places like Dell’s was for. This bar was a dusty hole in the wall where the people here were for one thing only-- cheap drinks. “Uh huh. Sure you are.” Luce said with a shrug as she drummed her hands on the table. She should go home. She should just go home and just… deal. She should just go home and face it. With a sigh, Luce waved to get the sleepy-eyed bartender’s attention and gestured to call it quits.

“Well,” Luce said with a long sigh, knocking on the table as she stood up from her chair, “Sounds like you’ve got some work ahead of you if that’s the case.” She said before putting a twenty on the table, gesturing to the kid as she made eye contact with the bartender. “Use whatever’s left to cover his drinks too.” She said before making her way out the door. “Good luck with whatever’s got you drinking here. Check out Mo’s when you have a chance. It’s a better scene than here.”

Out in the cool night air, Luce paused outside the bar and pulled out her phone. She could Uber home, which would be fine. Or she could walk, it was how she got here in the first place. Without meaning to, Luce realized she was flicking through the contacts on her phone. She still had Remmy’s number. Which didn’t matter-- they’d left town. They were better off away from White Crest. Away from all the fucked up shit here. Away from her. Swallowing, her finger hovered over the delete contact button.

She took a deep breath and hit the button. She had to move on, she had to move beyond her past. And that meant letting go. Stowing her phone back in her pocket, Luce headed back into the night. She had to go home.

Milo frowned, suddenly feeling guilty for disturbing the girl. Although his motivations were often selfish, he never intended to cause trouble for anyone, and now he was forced to wonder whether she had agreed to his company to be polite. Or even worse, maybe she had felt as though she couldn’t say no to him. He stayed silent, listening to her brush off his comments. He liked to think he was self-aware enough to accept the fact that he wasn’t incredibly personable. On multiple occasions he had argued with people purely because they didn’t like his attitude, and looking back on said arguments, he couldn’t exactly blame them for getting upset. But he had kind of, almost been trying here. At the very least he had made a conscious effort not to be a dick. He watched as she flagged down the bartender, dropping a twenty before standing up to leave. “Oh- I… okay.” He couldn’t hide how miserable he felt, though he wasn’t sure why the rejection hurt. He had been alone five minutes ago, did it really matter if he was alone again now? Especially not when somebody had willingly paid for his drinks.

Tapping his fingers against his glass, he downed what was left of the contents, thinking about the last time he had visited Mo’s. He wanted, more than anything, to trust himself in such a busy environment, but he had already taken too many risks. He wasn’t in control. When was he ever in control? Letting out a huff of breath, a habit he had yet to shake, he pushed away from the table too, uncomfortable in the sudden silence. Pulling his cigarettes from his pocket, he had one in his mouth by the time he reached the door, desperate for a distraction from his thoughts. The cold air hitting his skin the moment he stepped outside, the vague scent of the girl he had been talking to still lingered in the air, but she had long since disappeared into the night, apparently desperate to get away from him. He sparked up, leaning against the brick wall behind him as he struggled to force down his emotions. It wouldn’t be the first time he had chased his feelings away with a trusty combination of nicotine, and alcohol. It certainly wouldn’t be the last.

#milo and luce #c:luce #ptsd tw #drug mention tw #alcoholism tw #addiction tw

12 notes · View notes

jawritter · 4 years

Text

My Best Friend..

Request: hi I have dean x reader request! the reader and dean are friends with benefits but recently she’s just been down in the dumps and just wants some platonic affection and not sex. as the writer you can do what u want but could you add Dean playing with the reader's hair? I have a weakness for it lol thanks!

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, unrequited/requited feelings, Language, angst, fluff, that’s about it.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2401

A/N: As always all mistakes are mine! Please don’t copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!

**MASTERLIST**

Dean's lips crashed into yours as soon as you crossed the threshold of your room back in the bunker. Hands roaming your body as he backs you to your bed. His lips left little marks along the way as he trailed his way down your collar bone, grinding his impressive erections against your core as he presses his body to yours, holding you to the mattress that he'd just laid you down on.

Little moans and soft breaths filling the room as he rips your underwear to the side, to be wired up and full of adrenaline to even properly remove your clothing. He'd gotten your pants off, but lost patients after that.

One hand leaves your body as he roughly rips his belt open and shoves his pants and boxers down to his knees.

"Fuck Y/N. need you," he grunted against your neck as he rutted his already leaking tip against your waiting core.

Your body accepts him like he belonged there, just like it had done so many times before. Dean didn't give you much time before he sat his brutal pace, driving you both very quickly toward the edge. The sounds of moans and his name fill the room as he pounds himself into you over and over again until his pace starts to falter.

"Fuck Y/N, cum with me, baby girl," he gritted out as he snaked his hand between your bodies, finding your swollen bundle of nerves with ease, and rubbing harsh circles as he continued to pound into you at a matching pace; winding the coil tighter and tighter in your belly, as he brought you up higher and higher with him.

With one more thrust of his hips, you were both tumbling over the edge together. Your hands flew to his shoulders as you try and ground yourself, your orgasm is so strong that you saw stars. Dean slowly pumped himself in you, working you both through it until you both had regained control of your bodies, leaving you both a panting, sweating mess, and a pile of human limbs on top of the bed.

Just like he always does after a hunt, Dean gets up slowly after pulling out of you, fixing his clothes, and buckling his belt. He turned and looks at you before he walked out of the door, giving you a tight-lipped smile as he made his way to the kitchen to find whatever he would be drinking tonight. You had returned his smile, hiding the fact that inside your heart was breaking.

Dean and yourself had been, "friends with benefits,'' so to speak ever since you moved into the bunker. You'd known the Winchesters for years before ever moving into the bunker, having grown up in the life. You remember them even when you were all just teenagers. When your father died last year Dean had offered to come live and hunt with them, safety in numbers, and you accepted because you were lost. You had nowhere else to go. It was the logical thing to do.

It wasn't so bad at first. When either of you needed a stress release, or just needed to scratch that itch, as they say, you turned to each other. You trusted each other. It worked out just fine when it all started. Dean needed to blow off some steam, and you needed Dean.

As time when on, and no matter how hard you tried to stop it, or deny it, or even fight it, you had developed feelings for the tall hunter. Now it was too late. He had your heart whether he knew it or not. The problem was, this was all you ever got from Dean. He wasn't a very affectionate sort of person. He did what he came to do, then left, that was just his way. Sometimes you felt like to him you were no more than an easy lay, and that's why he kept you around.

Let's be honest.

You'd never be able to keep up with the boys as far as strength and ability when it came to hunting. They were Winchesters. They were the best. All you seemed to be good for is a traveling fuck buddy for Dean. At least that's what it felt like to you anyway.

Getting up you made your way to the shower, wiping at your face harshly. Dean would never feel the same way you felt about him. Still, that didn't stop the want, or the need to be close to him in more ways than just sex. Intimacy wasn't always about sex, and you craved more of him.

You don't know exactly when this depressed and down feeling started, but God you wished it would go away.

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

Two weeks went by as they usually do, and you still weren't able to shake that feeling. That hole in your chest, that loneliness. Dean hadn't tried to come into you again. Tonight though you knew he would because you were currently sitting in the back of the impala, having left the last hunt you just finished with the boys and headed back to Lebanon. Dean was all knotted up, you could see it in the way he held his broad shoulders as he drove. His eyes would shift back and forth from the rearview mirror to stare at you to the road. He didn't have to even say anything, you knew what he wanted, you just didn't know if this time you could do that for him.

You had felt so low, that you knew if you let yourself go there again, you'd never pick yourself up off the floor. The problem was you just didn't know how to tell him. Dean was your best friend, you didn't want to lose that at all. Even if you'd never be more than friends you needed him, just like he needed you. He was your crutch, and you were his. There was no way around it.

When the impala finally pulled into the bunker, and you all got out and threw your duffle bags over your shoulders. You made your way straight for your room, locking the door behind you, changing into one of Dean's oversized shirts that fit you more like a dress than a shirt, you crawled into your bed and covered yourself up.

You knew that Dean would just pick the lock. There were really no points in locks on doors when it came to living with hunters, it was just pointless. Still, it would slow him down, and hopefully deter him, maybe he'd think you were just asleep.

You lay there for no more than 30 minutes before you heard him try to open the door. When he saw it was locked he didn't even bother to knock. You could hear the distinct sounds of the lock being picked and the door swinging open. You laid there as still as possible as you felt the bed dip, and the covers pull back, letting you know Dean was sliding himself in behind you. He immediately starts to run his fingers up your thigh, burying his face in your neck as he kissed and nipped at the flesh there, not being at all shy about his intentions with the erection that was currently pressing against your ass.

"Y/N, Baby, I know you're not asleep," he whispers against the shell of your ear.

You didn't say anything. just rolled tighter into the covers and pressed him away with your hand. Dean sat there stiff as aboard, confused by your rejection. You had never once told him no before.

Reaching over Dean turns on the bedside lamp so that he could see you, checking to make sure you're not injured, and he didn't know about it. That was the only reason he could formulate at that moment that said you wouldn't want to be with him. He was more than a little hurt and looking for some sort of justification for your rejections.

Finally letting out a deep sigh you roll over and are met with a pair of very hurt looking green eyes staring back at you.

"Did I do something I don't know about?" Dean asked you, his voice tense, stress set deep in his shoulders.

The man thrived off of blaming himself for everything and you knew that. So you knew that you were going to have to talk this out with him, as much as you'd rather not.

"No Dean, you didn't do anything wrong, it's me. I'm just not in a good headspace right now," you tell him, rolling back over to face the wall.

Dean didn't leave like you were hoping that he would. Instead, he pulled himself closer to you in almost a spooning position, something he'd never done before.

"We all get down like that sometimes Y/N, this life is hard, but you don't need to push the people that care about you away, let me help you. Tell me what to do and I'll do it, but don't reject me and shut me out," Dean said, waiting for you to say something.

He didn't want to overstep his bounds, and he was still feeling the sting of being told no, so you knew he wasn't going to let this go easy.

You both just sat there in silence for a moment, neither of you saying anything. Dean was giving you some time to put your thoughts together. He could almost see the wheels turning in your head.

"Dean, I want you to answer me honestly about something. No matter how bad you think it might hurt my feelings or whatever," you said, turning to find him staring at you, concern etched deep in his features.

"Okay."

"Am I more to you than just an easy lay?"

The question seemed to throw him for a moment. All the things that he was expecting to come out of your mouth, that definitely wasn't one of them. He blinked at you a few seconds before realization sat in, and his features softened.

"Is that what you think? Y/N no, I don't see you that way at all. You're my best friend, you're the one that I share everything with. I have feelings for you that go deeper than that even. You know I'm not good with words, and I'm not really good at showing things, I never meant to make you feel like that. I've opened myself up to you more than I think I ever have with anyone. I need you baby, your not just an easy lay,"

Dean reached over and grabbed your hand in his, making little circles with his thumb, it was a small gesture, but even then it made your heart swell.

This is what you needed from him, closeness, intimacy. Not just sex.

"Every time you come in here and we have sex you just leave like I'm nothing. When we're not having sex you act like I'm a piece of furniture. You barely even acknowledge me. Dean If all this is ever going to be between us is an easy lay when you need to blow off some steam I don't know if we can keep doing this."

What you said seemed to have hit Dean hard, but so did the realization of what he'd been doing to you. Dean never was one for words, he never got it right, he always screwed it up getting it out. So he did the only thing he knew to do in that moment to keep you, because losing you was more than he could even fathom. He loved you and losing you would tear him apart.

Reaching over Dean grabbed your face and crashed his lips into yours. Kissing you slowly, tenderly, his tongue exploring your mouth in a way he never had, more care and love was placed in that one kiss than any you'd ever had in your life. By the time he released your face your world was a little fuzzy.

"Y/N, I love you, you are everything to me, I kept my distance because I don't want to freak you out, and make you run away from me. I thought all you wanted was a friend with benefits thing, but if you want more I'm all in for that too."

Laying down on his back Dean pulled your down with him. You slipped your head into the junction of his shoulder and neck, nuzzling down to fit your bodies perfectly together. like you were made for each other. Dean wrapped his arms tightly around you, half rolling onto his side caging you against him.

His body was warm against yours, you felt more safe and secure than you ever had in your life. This is it, this is what you were missing. Dean started to card his fingers through your hair, placing little kisses at random to your lips. Nothing was expected. Nothing was being pushed. He wasn't in a hurry. In fact it didn't look like he was going anywhere. He seemed perfectly content just to be, and that meant more to you than anything you had ever had in your life.

“I love you too, Dean, I always have,” you told him, your eyes are getting heavy. Exhaustion of all the emotions hit you all at once.

“I know Sweetheart, sleep, I’m not going anywhere,” he said, placing a soft kiss to your lips before settling back into his spot, playing with your hair, letting you nuzzle your face into him. You breathe in his scent deeply, letting it envelop you, and wash away all that hurt that you felt, leaving just him, your best friend, your rock, your comfort.

After about an hour while you were dozing asleep tangled up in his arms Dean was still playing with your hair, even though you had fallen into an easy sleep long ago. Dean laid there with his mind on things a hunter really shouldn't be thinking about. A home, a family, an apple pie life.

He wasn't dumb enough to ever dream that it would actually happen that way, but what you didn't know was that if he ever did get out of this life or he died in it, he wanted to do it right here, with his best friend. If he never got to do all those things normal people got to do, that was fine, he'd expected that a long time ago; but whatever he did get to do, as long as it was with you... Well... That was more than enough...

Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @alanegaming @magssteenkamp

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #spn #spn smut #spn fanfiction #spn fic #spn one shot #jensen ackles #jawritter

455 notes · View notes

prorevenge · 4 years

Text

Veteran Mechanic taking advantage of active duty military and retirees messes with the wrong person and his buddy goes down with him.

When this started all I was trying to do was get out of paying for something I didn’t need and never asked for. By the end I was going for blood as someone else enacted their revenge.

This happened back in 2002 on Marine Corps Recruit Depot San Diego. I was stationed down the way at 32nd Street Naval Base for my MIlitary Occupation Specialty school and was a new Lance Corporal (E3) at the time. I had a 1994 Dodge Spirit with 180K miles or so and I’d just driven it across the country. I bought it a few days before leaving KS at an Auto auction. A couple weeks into my school it died, at the gate, next to the sentry.

After an initial freak out that I was a suicide bomber and the subsequent search of me and my car everyone calms down and they help push my car to the top of the hill so I can coast down the other side and into the auto repair shop parking lot which thankfully went without incident.

Before I go in I call my dad and then his cousin. My dad knows a ton about cars and his cousin is a mechanic with his own very successful shop (like a dozen work bays and they handle everything from regular cars to farm equipment to semis). I know a fair bit about cars on my own but he knows everything. Between us we decide it looks like the distributor or the distributor cap is the issue. My dad’s cousin says it’s a common issue on Spirits from this time and recommends I get it fixed here by a real mechanic. Now at this point it’s important to note his shop did a very thorough once over for me after I bought the car and gave me good notes on the condition of the car in writing, from his shop.

I go in and talk to the guy at the counter. They’re not too busy and pull it into a bay and run their diagnostics, same thing. Distributor cap. Cool. I get the services agreement saying they’ll replace it and call me if they find anything else. I hear nothing until the end of the week when they call and say my car is ready. When I get there they present me with a bill for like $1400!

Wow. Just wow. Now my heart has stopped beating and I say something about that being a lot for a distributor cap. The guy who owns the place (I find out he’s a veteran from way back) breaks off talking to a Master Sergeant (MSgt - E8) and comes over to talk to me. He starts telling me about how it was much worse than they originally thought and they ended up having to replace my radiator (plus hoses) and my timing belt and a head gasket. I’m still in shock and say something like the head gasket was fine two weeks ago and so was the radiator and the timing. He puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me I don’t know what I’m talking about bc they’ve been waiting to fail for a long time now.

I’m confused now and say that’s not possible. I bought it two weeks ago and... He cuts me off and says I was sold a complete lemon and I should have had it checked. He says he felt bad for me and this should have cost over $2000 but he cut me a deal and he can work with me in an installment plan but will have to charge me interest. Now I’m suspicious and starting to get pissed and I say the only repair I authorized was a distributor cap and they should have called me before doing anything else and I start to explain I’ve got paperwork from the inspection I had done that said those other things were fine. I’m going to get it from the car and the MSgt grabs me by the arm and starts telling me I’m being ungrateful and disrespectful to a respected mechanic and business owner and asks me if I’m implying he’s cheating me. Every time I try to open my mouth he cuts me off and keeps telling the owner not to worry, he’ll make sure this young pup pays what is owed. He’s threatening to take me over to admin and have my pay docked.

Now I’m angry and a bit scared. Another Marine intervenes and says that’s a little extreme and to let me say my piece. I get permission to get into my car to get my maintenance history which includes an oil change, the inspection documentation and the original quote for the distributor cap work. At this point there’s a crowd of customers and some other passers by. The owner of the garage and MSgt are in full theater mode talking about how I’m not appreciating the huge help they’ve been and I’m trying to get out of paying for work I asked for. Now I’m mostly just pissed.

I come in and the MSgt cuts me off and tells me to be careful how I talk to his friend. I ask the MSgt if he’s going to let me speak or keep interrupting me while I’m in a private conversation with a business owner. I ask him if he owns part of the shop (no) and ask why he’s so interested in not hearing a Marine out. Then I get out the original statement of services and say the distributor cap is all I agreed to. I also ask why he didn’t call me and he says he called my barracks several times and left messages including ones telling me the car was undrivable until the repairs were made so he went with the lowest cost option to get me back on the road. Oops. I say, that’s interesting, the only number I gave you is my cell phone and I don’t have any messages or even attempted calls until the previous evening when they left a message that my car was ready. I show everyone my call history (including a Captain who’s very interested and standing quietly by). The MSgt has backed off and the Capt is quietly talking to him off on the side.

Now the owner is backpedaling a bit and saying he was thinking of a different customer but he’s already made the replacement and has to charge me for the work. Then I pull out the stuff from the inspection and it has some fun little statements in it. Statements like: Timing belt good, timing good. Check again in 30K miles. Radiator, appears to be recently replaced. All hoses new in last 6 months. Nothing on the head gasket but there’s a statement that there are no leaks in that area which was why he said he had to replace it. I say he can put all of my original stuff back on because all I’m paying for is the distributor cap work. He gets red faced and starts demanding I pay for the labor and he can’t put things back on because they were too badly damaged in the removal process.

Now some old retired guy chimes in from the back and asks “what kind of mechanic damages things when they take them apart?” The owner drags out my radiator and there is a giant hole in one side that looks like it was stabbed with a crowbar. Now a couple other people (locals) are questioning past situations where he ‘helped them’ out with repairs they didn’t know they needed. The MSgt tried to walk off and a Colonel and a Sergeant Major in civilian attire post him to the side for a later conversation. The Capt pulls me aside and asks to see the info I have and to see my phone again and steps behind the counter to photocopy it all. He has a truly evil grin. Turns out he’s a prior Enlisted former infantry Marine who became an Officer after going back to college. He has suspected this shop of being crooked for a while but never had enough proof. He’s on the commanding general’s staff and they were looking into complaints from permanent personnel and retirees in the area. The owner is sweating bullets now. I only pay for the distributor cap and get a statement that says my balance is zero so he doesn’t try anything in the future.

The Capt takes me to dinner and gets my info and basically a statement from me of what happened. After dinner he takes me back to his office while he types up something for me to sign about the whole incident and I call Verizon to get them to fax over the incoming / outgoing calls from my number from the past week. He explains that the MSgt has been steering a lot of customers to his buddy and they suspect he’s getting kick backs. The Capt and several others have been taking their cars there for months to try to catch the guy doing what he did to me. The MSgt sealed his fate when he started threatening to take my pay. They suspected he was getting kickbacks or favors in exchange for hooking up his buddy. Now he has the justification he needs to formally look into the MSgt. The Capt was thrilled and bought me a 6 pack for using up so much of my Friday evening.

I wasn’t around long enough to see the outcome but when I left there were auditors from base services going through the business with a fine tooth comb and it was a legal matter. Once something like that gets started it probably means a business and the owners will get kicked out of the on base location (the base owns the building and the owner leases it). He and his business would also end up blacklisted as a place known for taking advantage of service members. Most commands give this out to people who check in so no one patronizes them.

It still boggles my mind that one veteran would try to use that status to take advantage of others. Or that a senior Marine would do that to other Marines. I know there are people out there like that but having the shared common background we do, I expect better.

(source) story by (/u/earthrogue)

#prorevenge #by /u/earthrogue #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

75 notes · View notes

pyrewriter · 3 years

Text

Short Medical leave

Previous Chapter Next Chapter(coming soon) Chapter Guide

Eliksni name pronunciation: Sovrreik (Sov-rr-ike)

Uncle was ecstatic to see that we had not only made it through the night but managed to save all those that would have otherwise been left to their fate. The Dregs who assisted me in the trench were to be promoted for valiance as well as their display of loyalty and ability. Similarly to how my brother and I these Dregs would skip the rank of Wretch but they would not yet be vandals, moving directly to Marauders was a significant honor nonetheless. Ogethres had been thinking of rewarding them and my report gave him more than enough to use as justification. The fellow Vandal would not become a Captain but would be honored for their role in assisting defend the wounded.

Deliberately I did not mention the Wretch who had earlier attempted to strike a defeated Risen's tiny machine. During the flight back in the Skiffs of a morning crew they approached me and expressed their regret, I scolded them but felt that was enough. There was no sign of deception in their words ,if there was they could not hide it from me, so reporting would be demeaning. I left them with wisdom uncle once told me once "An enemy defeated, be watched, but left well alone".

Uncle sent me to the infirmary just to be sure that I was not internally injured from prolonged combat. The medical staff asked me to lay down so they could properly examine me but when I tried my body refused to relax fully. While I was checked over I couldn't help but chuckle at the hilarity of how I most likely looked like one the old stone likenesses of humans often found in city remnants. Once the medical machines came up as normal the medics told me to avoid combat for a while just to make sure I wasn't on the brink of collapsing.

Normally I would have simply thanked them for their care and advice before charging headlong into the next mission but I decided to listen to our medical experts for once. Fortunately there was always more than enough work that needed to be done, with my engineering skills I favored more hand on jobs. Sometimes younger Dregs that had heard of or seen my work in the field would murmur in curious clicks whenever I would dive for maintenance on submerged areas of our home. I always thought it sobering for the younger in the guild and humbling for myself as it kept me from discounting the effort of others or believing myself greater because of my station.

Brykis had similar sentiments but if one were to ask him he would tell them that he simply didn't like the thought of his brother being left out. I would often find him helping process collected salvage or teaching fresh Vandals how to use and maintain their equipment. Father Pyrrhaks was always busy with political squabbles as our uncle Ogethres trusted few others with such delicate responsibilities but they rather enjoyed more menial tasks. Often in luling times both Ogethres and Pyrrhaks would wear simple robes and chat casually or help with small unofficial tasks around the coast.

A few days into our off time ,before Brykis or myself had even fully woken, our door opened, uncle's unhelmed face greeted us with a smile. "Come, relax today, little responsibility, Pyrrhaks join soon" he said nodding for us to follow him once we were dressed. During our medically required break, uncle seemed to realize just how long it had been since all five of us had been present at one time at the coast with little to keep us busy. Brother left first after wrapping himself in more relaxed cloth than our usual armor, I was still feeding on my morning Ether from Sekos-4 after wrapping myself. When I followed Brykis father was already with them so I was last but with all of us gathered now uncle revealed his intent.

"Long time since had much free-time, wanted to spend with family" he clicked with almost excited vigor, I smiled beneath my wraps and chuckled slightly. In my many years of life I had heard many recounts of the ferocity of Arkons, their amazing strength, how Risen struggled with an all but unguarded priest reclaimed from the Prison of Elders. All these stories are true yet they never tell of their lives off the battlefield or how they were as leaders. Sometimes I wondered if they were anything like uncle but from what I know of the times before House Dusk I doubted it.

Following Ogethres we waved and warmly said hello to those we passed as we walked, the casual nature of our guild on full display. I've heard from wandering gangs and our usual traders that we are strange because of our lax attitude with a thriving gathering of Eliksni so close to the Great Machine. Whenever they remarked on such things I always compared us to when our people first met humanity, perhaps weak at a glance behind our walls but every maw hides teeth. Often such words would get me sideways looks and in truth I couldn't blame them, it was a human saying.

Uncle had walked us down near one the end of the wall that bordered our home where it met the waters edge. It was a rather quiet area while still having line of sight across everything to the opposite end of the wall. There were a small number of Dregs and Vandals milling about moving aquatic animals of all sorts of shapes, sizes, and colors that they had caught. Ogethres called with a loud clack that got the attention of a more round looking Captain who raised an arm in greeting before lumbering over to us.

"Greetings my Arkon, how been, long time no talk" she clicked with a flemish voice.

Ogethres waved a hand "Been well, busy and well, apologies for little talk, much happened" he chuckled "should know, you part of that".

"Bahg, so much movement, difficult move so much so quickly, thankful for you, Ogethres my Arkon" the Captain replied with clear gratitude in her voice. Bowing her head she turned with a wave for us to follow as she showed us a spot among other workers casually chatting or humming tunes. "Four sets, as requested, told other to treat same as any" the Captain listed, adding with a chuckle under her breath "Hehe, can't stop all though" she joked

"Your effort enough, thank you friend, Great Machine bless" Ogethres told them with a low chitter and a hand over his heart. Pyrrhaks, Brykis, and myself bowed our heads slightly and rasped in thanks for the Captains effort to coalesce as well as allowing us to use their equipment for recreation. The Captain echoed the blessing before heading off to direct idle dregs to what needed to be cleaned or stuffed with coolant. "Come, let us 'fish' as it is called" uncle stated as he strode across the sand toward a set of poles with string dangling from them. I recognized such poles from movies I had stored in Sekos-4.

All four of us were absolutely terrible at using the poles which led one of us ,often uncle, getting a sharp metal hook caught on themselves. Despite this however we continued to learn both through trial and error as well as tips from fellow Eliksni around us fishing around us. Once everyone was able to get their hooks into the water with relative consistency we were fishing as a family, it felt nice, a calm that I hadn't known for quite some time. We caught a fair amount of aquatic life but nothing astonishing, patience, luck, and knowledge were what made one good at catching water dwelling creatures.

Time felt like it slipped by while we sat enjoying the presence of each other and before we realized it the sun was setting over the horizon. We had managed to spend an entire day sitting in the sand with poles in hand to help feed hatchlings and sprog. Thankfully nothing that couldn't be handled by those uncle left in charge appeared during our time on the edge of the wall. While the rest of my family went off to rest or double check the feeds for anything that slipped through I went to fulfill my nightly duties. Slipping into my work harness I chuckled at myself ,it was a completely peaceful day for our guild, still I worked through the night consuming only enough Ether to not deprive myself.

The next morning I found myself being woken by an engineering Dreg, apparently I had blacked out with my legs dangling from an access hatch. Laughing at their description of how they found me ,"Similar Arkon threw you during accession, right in hole", I thanked the Dreg before heading to my quarter. Luckily I had been awoken before most others so no one knew that I never made it back after they bedded down. Brykis did wonder what I was doing up so soon as I fumbled around trying to get my standard armor on.

"On Ether crew, morning deploy" I told him, it was no lie, I did sign on to be escort for an Ether extraction at the earliest signs of day.

He shook his head while rubbing a set of eyes with one hand "Doctor told no exertion, you against better judge?" he asked pointedly.

"Extracted before, same spot, quiet, go stretch legs, take light load" I reassured him grabbing only my dagger "Worry much, brother". Taking a moment to pay tribute to Esyra before leaving I set off to meet the other members of what would be my crew in the hangar to be told the details of our mission. During the brief I learned we were taking our Prime Servitor ,Sovrreik, which explained the larger than normal present crew. Ogethres thought it best to keep them within the safety of the ketch ever since the Risen had discovered our underground compound before.

I found it odd that we were taking the prime servitor but before I could raise the question as to why we were taking such an important figure I got my answer. "Risen damage collection servitors, as see, taking extra guard, collected sector before, near coast, safe, pack light" the leading Captain clicked tossing aside a data pad. Most were fairly new Vandals but they had enough experience with combat that I was unconcerned about any wildlife we may encounter. Boarding our Skiffs and hovering as we waited for Sovrreik.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter(coming soon) Chapter Guide

#destiny #eliksni #fallen #eliksni fanfic #Ellrimksyt #Chapter 10

11 notes · View notes

duhragonball · 3 years

Text

Hellsing Liveblog Ch. 45-50

This is the “Soldier of Fortune” arc. I thought there was a song by this title and there is! Give it a listen.

youtube

This opens with a flashback to Pip Bernadotte’s childhood, where he finds out his whole family is a bunch of mercenaries. His grandfather confirms it, and I should point out that Grandpa Bernadotte is the most mercenary-looking dude I’ve ever seen. He’s wearing a friggin’ beret while he tells Pip about how his dad died in some war to raise money while Ma Bernadotte was pregnant with Pip. Was Pip’s mother a merc too?

I guess my point is that this whole scene feels really stupid to me. Kid Pip grew up among mercenaries, but he’s literally the last person in town to find out about it. How do the kids at school know? Are the Bernadottes that well-known? I always assumed mercenaries tried to keep a low profile. Then again, they are entrepreneurs, so maybe the kids in school found ads about the Bernadottes in the phone book.

Even so, was Pip’s family trying to keep this a secret from him? Because Grandpa sure wasn’t. Not with that beret he’s got on. It’s like he’s been waiting Pip’s whole life to tell him, so why didn’t he mention it before? You’d think he’d want to raise the boy to follow in his footsteps, the same as Pip’s dad. Did Pip’s mom not want him to grow up to be a mercenary? It just seems like she should have known that wouldn’t work out.

Anyway, Grandpa Bernadotte waxes philosophical about killing people for money, which doesn’t seem like much of a justification. Pip was very upset about the whole thing, and I don’t think Grandpa said anything to make him less upset, and then we flash forward to the present day, where Pip’s a mercenary.

I mean, what was the point of that flashback? Pip was horrified to find out his family kills for profit, and then at some point he got over it and joined the family business. Why didn’t the flashback show us that moment instead? It seems more relevant.

At any rate, I feel like the flashback is overlooking the true point of Pip’s character arc. He starts out a soldier of fortune like his father and grandfather, but by joining up with Hellsing he’s now fighting for a much nobler cause, ridding the world of unspeakably evil monsters. He still seems to look at it like just another job, but it’s still important. His defense of the Hellsing mansion is a lot more heroic because he’s fighting against daunting odds with very little hope of surviving to see another sunrise, let alone his next paycheck.

Back to the main story, when Millennium’s forces invaded London, they sent a company to the Hellsing HQ on the outskirts of the city. Zorin Blitz was tasked with leading this group, but she was ordered to hold off on attacking until the Major gave the word. The Major then fired rockets at the mansion, only for Seras Victoria to shoot the rockets down... and Zorin’s zeppelin. Now, Zorin is trying to lead a ground attack on the mansion, except Pip has turned the entire yard into a minefield.

Seras disapproves, but Pip doesn’t care. In this sort of conflict, he and his men, the Wild Geese, are at a complete disadvantage. Vampires, even the weaker, artificial vampires of Millennium, are faster, stronger, and harder to kill. He hints at some sort of vampiric ability to read an opponent’s movements, too, which might have something to do with that whole “third eye” trick Seras and Alucard use. Against all of that, landmines are a sensible precaution, since they’re powerful enough to kill a vampire in one shot and don’t rely on a human operator with killing intent. Seras can gripe, but if Hellsing had used mines back in volume 2, the Valentine Brothers never would have made it inside. Pip clearly read up on that debacle, since it must have taken weeks for his men to bury all these mines.

The landmines do kill a lot of Zorin’s troops, and the Wild Geese lay down heavy fire from the mansion to keep up the pressure, but Zorin won’t give up so easily. She uses he powers to create some sort of zany illusion, where everyone sees a giant Zorin Blitz attacking the mansion.

So what the hell is Zorin Blitz, exactly? I thought she was a vampire, but reading this manga has revealed that Rip Van WInkle is a werewolf, which led me to suspect Zorin is a werewolf too. But the manga is silent on Zorin being one or the other. I check the Hellsing Wiki, but it contends that both women are vampires, and the term “Werewolf” just refers to the group of officers in Millennium. This group includes literal werewolves like the Captain and Schrodinger, but not Blitz and Rip.

Maybe it doesn’t matter that much, but I find it a little silly to call all four of those characters “Werewolves” and then only two of them are really werewolves. Clearly, all four of them are a cut above the Major’s other troops, and none of them show any interest in drinking blood, or any other vampire-exclusive traits. On the other hand, this whole battle takes place under a full moon, and none of them seem to be affected by it. Unless the Major chose this particular night to launch his offensive because he wanted them all to be at full power. Maybe Zorin couldn’t do this illusion thing otherwise.

Anyway, the Wild Geese see this giant woman slashing at them with a scythe, and they all panic. Seras sees it too, but she somehow intuits that it can’t be real. Then she sees Alucard, who reminds her of her third eye. I’m not sure if this is a flashback or Alucard is using telepathy to coach her from the deck of the H.M.S. Eagle.

Either way, Seras uses her third eye and not only sees through the illusion but lines up a shot on the illusion-caster. But it only grazes Zorin. It disrupts the illusion, but it doesn’t end the threat.

And even though the illusion is shattered, it still distracted the Wild Geese long enough for Millennium troops to enter the mansion. Seras manages to shoot them down, but there’s more where that came from.

Because the Nazi bastards figured out a way past the mines. They just threw a bunch of knives on the ground and played hopscotch to get across. I guess this means they can only get in one at a time, but it’s still bad news for the good guys.

So Pip adjusts his tactics accordingly. He and his men will regroup and hold up in a defensible location, while Seras roams the building to take the fight to the enemy. I guess the idea is to divide Millennium’s focus. They can attack the Geese or watch out for Seras, but not both. For some reason, Seras calls Pip “sir”, like he’s in charge, and maybe that is appropriate in this situation, but I thought Seras was in charge of their training.

Then one of the Geese pats her on the butt and Pip steals a kiss. I’m not sure what the hell this is about. I guess they were trying to lighten the mood before they go to face certain death, but if my life depended on some vampire girl killing all the bad guys before they can rip me to shreds, I probably wouldn’t sexually harass her, or do anything else to tick her off. But that’s just me.

Pip seems resigned about their chances. He’s confident in Seras’ ability, but there’s only one of her and like... 30? Let’s say 30, thirty Nazi Vampires heading their way. If even one of them gets past Seras, the Geese will all die horribly. But they took this job and the risks that come with it, and besides, there’s nowhere for them to run anyway. He seems to accept the situation with a mercenary sense of honor. Like, a mercenary should expect to die in some unwinnable battle, and they shouldn’t complain about it, since it’s the nature of the business.

Anyway, it doesn’t go well. The nature of the comic doesn’t really make it clear how the Wild Geese are operating, but I get the impression that they’re doing sort of a fighting withdrawal concentrating their forces as they give ground. But they suffer a lot of casualties in the process.

This leads to the Geese holing up in the big conference room where Integra met with the Royal Order of Protestant Knights before the Valentine Bros. attack. One guy panics and wants to bug out, but Pip reminds him of what I said a minute ago. They’ve got nowhere else to go, and they all got into this for the action, so they should stick to their principles, even in the face of death.

There’s this one guy from “B-block”, who I guess was covering a certain hallway, but B-Block got cut off before they could join the others in the Round Table room. Zorin Blitz decides to have some fun with him, so she uses her weird powers to make him see himself back home, with his dead daughter.

This seems especially cruel, because it’s not like Zorin needed this diversion to kill one dude. She’s just really sadistic.

Meanwhile, some other Millennium guys are eating the Wild Geese they already killed, and one of them shows off his ability to tell blood types just by taste. It’s this really sick moment, but at the same time it humanizes the characters, which is a weird thing to say when discussing Nazi vampires, but you know what I mean.

Then Seras blows the dude’s head off, which is extremely satisfying.

So Seras is holding up her end, and growing more resolute with each kill. She’s really improved a lot since the last time she was in action. Yeah, these Millennium vampires probably aren’t that much tougher than the vampires she killed back in the summer, but there are a lot more of them, and they’re trained soldiers on top of that, and she doesn’t have Alucard backing her up like she did before.

By now, all that’s left of the Wild Geese are in this barricaded room, and they’ve run low on silver bullets, which means even the few shots that don’t miss will have almost no effect. Pip is determined to hold out, confident that Seras will save them, but...

She runs out of bullets before she runs out of enemies to kill. When she arrives to save the day, she’s still has to go through Zorin Blitz.

But Zorin doesn’t see this as a problem, and she uses her freaky mind powers on Seras, forcing her to relive memories of her days at the orphanage. Yeah, Seras was an orphan, remember? Alucard asked Walter about her parents a while back, and Walter said they were both dead. How did they die?

Well, Zorin Blitz is about to find out...

#2021hellsingliveblog #hellsing #seras victoria #pip bernadotte #zorin blitz #alucard #a bunch of no-name wild geese dudes #i sometimes feel bad that i can't keep track of them all #but then i remember that kouta hirano never gave them names in the first place #so there's young commissioner gordon with the dead daughter #and the chubby faced guy who wants to run away #and the guy who cops a feel on seras #and the other guy who gets blown in half by a rocket launcher #and that's basically it

19 notes · View notes

oohfluffy · 4 years

Text

TIHM Ch.15 | BBH

Group: EXO

Member: Byun Baekhyun

Theme: Angst | Fluff | Rated M | University!AU | Football!AU

Word Count: 3,065

chapter 15

"Is this Lee Saejin?"

You just got home from school, and the phone rang as soon as you got in.

"Ah, yes. Who's this?"

"This is the Family Care Hospital."

You quickly ran out of the house as soon as the caller told you about what happened.

Your grandmother was hit by a truck, and she's now in a critical condition.

"Grandma..." Your tears streamed down your cheeks as you hastily got inside of the hospital. You frantically asked the nurses on the counter, lips quivering in fear and anxiousness. "W-Where's she?"

"Ms. Lee?" A nurse called you and gently led you to the waiting area. You looked around with your eyes wide, breathing fast as your hands clasped together. "Calm down, Saejin-ssi. Your grandmother is inside the operation room. They're trying their best to..."

Everything was fading rapidly.

You couldn't hear what the woman was saying. You were in this black hole, and all you wanted to do was cry and scream in fear.

You couldn't lose her.

Not her.

"P-Please." Your voice broke as you sobbed on your seat. Your shoulders shook while your tears continuously flowed down your face. "I-I can't lose my grandma."

But it seemed like you weren't really favored by luck.

"I heard she lost her grandmother."

"Suits her right for being a slut."

"Maybe karma is working!"

"She shouldn't have done that, what a shame."

You were still in that black hole. Still in that corner. Still crying. Still being consumed by sadness.

Still alone.

You started to learn how to hurt yourself to refrain from being numb.

You pinch your skin too hard. You punch the wall too hard. You scratch your wound too hard. You tug on your hair too hard. You hit your head too hard.

You needed to feel.

And those kids in the university were making it easier to do so.

Your body straightened as the coldness hit the top of your head. Laughters and snickers were heard as soon as you locked the door of the cubicle you were in.

"Oh damn! That must be so cold!"

"Shush! Let her enjoy it silently."

"I'm surprised she didn't scream."

"Let's go!"

Your lips quivered as you slumped down on the toilet. With water droplets trickling down your hair, your clothes dampened. You shivered as you felt your skin getting too cold.

Despite the bad intention, you were grateful for those bitches.

Your hand gripped on the cutter in your pocket. You let out a pained sigh as you shook your head.

You would have used a more painful way to feel.

"Saejin-ah."

You slowly closed your locker door. With blank eyes, you turned your head to the person who called you. You didn't bother gasp as you felt your lips dry.

Park Yong Sun.

"I-I'm sorry, Saejin-ah." She cried as she looked down, her dark hair falling on her face. You just stared at her vulnerable state. Everyone around you seems to be interested and curious about what's happening in your life. "I-It's my fault."

Your eyes watered as you looked at the person who you trusted your everything with. Your best friend that grew up with you, stayed with you, and cared for you.

What made her do this?

Was it the cuts on your wrists? The bruises on your temple? Maybe the red marks on your neck? Or was it your busted lip? Which one made her feel guilty?

"I-I'm so sorry—"

You walked past her, limping as you went out of the hallway. You didn't want to hear the rest. You didn't want to listen to her lies, or her justifications why she did that. You didn't want to see her again.

She didn't deserve it.

"She's here!"

"Is it true that she's the reason?"

"How can she appear here as if she didn't do anything?!"

You were wrecked when you heard the news. You weren't supposed to care or to be involved.

"Park Yong Sun is dead. She killed herself."

And you cannot comprehend how it is your fault again.

—

"Say ahh." Baekhyun said as he carefully nudged a spoonful of ice cream on your lips. You complied quickly and ate it, trying to avoid a much more embarrassing scenario in public. "Good girl."

"Shut up."

Wondering what you are doing with that puppy?

It's just your first date with him—let's change that.

It's your first acquaintance gathering with him.

"Let's go play!" He excitedly said as he threw the empty cup away, dragging you again around the mall. Girls were ogling at him as he walked past. You couldn't help but to roll your eyes. He was just wearing a plain oversized white shirt that slightly shows off his broad chest, and a pair of glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

He looks like a good boy, and everyone digs it as usual.

You were supposed to be taking a day off alone, but then Baekhyun knew, and he just couldn't leave you to spend the day alone. He's been stuck on you for the past few days, and it was annoying but comforting at the same time.

After a few minutes of walking, you got inside a game station. There were a lot of kids and teens playing, and it was almost crowded. You felt uneasy as Baekhyun easily got through it.

You both walked until you were in front of a huge screen with two guns in front.

"I'm not good at these things, Baekhyun." You whined as he gave you a huge weapon that supposedly kills zombies on the screen. He just grinned and patted your cheek before getting his. "We're just going to die, I'm telling you."

"We're not, baby. I'm here." He winked as he clicked the start button. Your heart thumped loudly as the game began. "Just follow my lead, okay? If you didn't know, I'm a damn good player."

"Oh I know that, Byun. You are a player."

Baekhyun grunted as he knew you were talking about a different thing.

You almost squealed when a zombie suddenly appeared in front of you, making you instinctively pull the trigger of your gun. And another one on the side, and on top, and on the farthest left!

Baekhyun watched as you single-handedly killed the zombies attacking you. He smirked as he looked at the screen, keeping up his game so he won't lose to you.

"I think I should be threatened, baby. You're a good player too." He laughed as he quickly pulled the trigger, killing as many zombies as he could. You grunted as you breathed in and out loudly, hands gripping on the weapon tightly.

After an hour of playing around the game station, you sat down on a bench with a tired smile on your face. Baekhyun went to find a vending machine to buy water, so you waited for him outside the game station.

You were looking around the place, taking in the sight of the stores and stalls, when a group of girls were approaching while giggling.

"I saw him here earlier!" The one in front said as she led her friends to the game station.

"Was he alone? I bet he wasn't!" The other girl exclaimed incredulously behind her.

"I don't think so. But hey, we can separate them for a while, don't you think? And we can play with him instead."

They all giggled together like fucking bees, pushing each other to the place until they all stopped. It was quiet as you leaned your back on the glass, becoming a bit impatient already.

"Babe. Sorry, did you wait long?" The familiar gentle voice that Baekhyun has been using on you said, making you look up at him. He was kind of sweating as he held out a cold bottle of water. "The vending machine inside was broken, so I needed to get to the working one outside."

You smiled gratefully as you took the bottle and quickly took a sip on it. You glanced at the girls, who were surprisingly still at the entrance, and looked back at the boy in front of you. Baekhyun has his eyes only set on you.

"Sit down." You patted the space on your left, and he easily complied like a dog. You took another gulp of water before giving it to Baekhyun, who took it with hesitation. "Aren't you thirsty? You're even sweating." You pulled out your handkerchief from your pocket.

"Ah, it's okay—" Without a word, you patted his face with your hanky. His eyes were wide as you willingly wiped his sweat. His lips parted when you wiped even his neck. He glanced around a bit, and saw that there was an audience behind him. He smirked at you.

"It's not good to just dry off your sweat—" You said seriously as you glared sideways at the girls watching.

You were fully composed until Baekhyun decided to join your little roleplaying.

"Anything for my baby." He said loudly as he leaned on your touch, lightly kissing your wrist as he did. Your cheeks were instantly in flames as you watched him. "I just love getting tended by you like this."

You bit your lip as your hand stopped on Baekhyun's cheek.

Your eyes went to his own, feeling drawn to his gaze. His hand held yours that was on his cheek, he smiled as he gave it a peck, letting his lips linger on your skin.

"Thank you." He mumbled as he sighed in relief. He slowly intertwined his fingers with yours, letting your hands rest on his lap. He drank from the opened bottle of water that you gave him earlier, drinking from the same spot you drank. You gulped down the lump forming in your throat before looking away.

"L-Let's go?" You asked as you glanced back at the murmuring girls behind him. Baekhyun nodded and stood up hand-in-hand with you. You led him out of those girls' gazes, taking lead in dragging him around this time.

You let out a breath of relief when you were finally out of the people's curious gazes. You stepped onto the escalator with Baekhyun behind you, and still had your fingers intertwined with him. You were deep into your thoughts when you felt warmth on your neck.

"Where are we going next, Saejin-ah?" Baekhyun whispered, his breath tickling your ear as he leaned on your shoulder. You almost shivered at his low voice.

Am I out of my mind already? This guy is a freaking playboy! He knows how to play!

"We are eating. I'm hungry." You mumbled as you got off the escalator, dragging him to follow you. You saw your favorite fast food chain, and grinned. You pointed at it. "There. We'll eat there."

Baekhyun watched as your eyes twinkled while you waited in line. He can sense your excitement and happiness at the moment, and he's loving every second of it. He was just behind you when a guy kept on bumping on your shoulder. You glanced at the man and furrowed your brows.

You chose to ignore it until the man almost fell over you. Baekhyun was quick to think and tugged you closer to him before the man fell. The people around were shrieking and asking for help. That man, with no question, is drunk.

"You alright?" Baekhyun asked as he hugged you from behind, feeling your body turn rigid as you looked at the man before you. "Were you hurt?"

The man was already being carried by the staff, and finally got out of the line. Baekhyun squeezed your arms as he didn't hear you responding. He decided to be the one who orders for the both of you.

With you in his arms.

Yes, you saw that right.

Unbeknownst to Baekhyun, you couldn't think and speak clearly because of him. Because he was too close to you. Because he is currently hugging you from behind as if he was a koala bear!

Is he crazy? Well, I guess I am too because I'm letting him do this!

"Yeah, that will be all." You heard Baekhyun say to the cashier, arms falling from you for a second to grab his wallet. You instantly walked to the side, surprising him and the cashier. You didn't dare look around because for sure, everyone was watching the scene unfold before them.

"Come on. Let's grab out seats." Baekhyun mumbled as he grabbed your hand and walked around the place to find empty seats. Fortunately, there was a two-seated table near the counter.

You couldn't look at him straight. You just looked at your hands on your lap. The hands that finally got used to holding hands with someone else because of him. Your cheeks blushed as you recalled the times you held hands with him.

Oh no, Saejin. No.

"Saejin-ah? Baby?"

Your head snapped up at Baekhyun, eyes wide as if you were a deer caught in headlights. Baekhyun raised his eyebrows in worry.

"You okay?" He asked, lips pouting as he looked all over your face. "You didn't get hurt earlier, did you?"

My heart is wavering, Byun. I'm not liking it.

"No, I'm fine." You said as you weakly smiled at him. He frowned as if sensing you weren't. "Really. I'm just kind of tired."

His body was warm.

He suddenly smiled.

"Were you getting possessive earlier, baby?" Baekhyun leaned on his hand on the table, his eyes crinkling in delight. "I saw those girls you glared at. Were they looking for me?"

Your eyes widened as your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Was that being possessive?! I just disliked the fact that he's getting attention everywhere!

"Tss. No way." You spat as you looked away, sighing in relief when the waiter arrived.

Baekhyun just wouldn't drop it though.

"I'm certain you were claiming me at that moment, Lee Saejin. " Baekhyun grinned as he watched you quickly shoving fries in your mouth. "I saw it in your eyes, and they don't lie."

"Think whatever you like. I was just being kind, that's all."

He took a sip on his coke, eyes never leaving your face. You were angrily chomping on your burger, making him chuckle while he watched you.

"I wish you'll always be kind then." He mumbled, making you look up at him. "I won't look anywhere else anymore if you're just right here."

You probably look like a hamster now, with all the food stuck in your cheeks. Realizing this, you quickly chewed on it and gulped them down. You drank your soda, hoping to clear both your throat and mind as you did.

"I'm serious, baby."

You stopped moving as you heard his deep voice, one that he hasn't used often when he casually talks to you. You looked at him again with wary eyes. His gaze was gentle, but at the same time, hard.

He's serious. Damn serious.

"Let me court you."

Your mouth gaped at his words.

Byun Baekhyun courting me?! Is this a scam?

"Y-You? Courting? Me?" You stuttered as you pointed at yourself. Baekhyun nodded. You chuckled humorlessly. "You should think about it—"

"I have." He said sternly as he stared into your eyes intensely. Your lips parted. "I've been thinking about it everyday since I met you. And I've only got one conclusion, Saejin."

You shook your head at him, losing your appetite.

"You don't know me, Baekhyun. You might fancy me now, but I'm sure you'd be out of my sight in a few days." You said bravely with a straight face. The happy and soft atmosphere before was ruined in one moment. "You're used to change, Baekhyun. I'm not sure if I can take that in. I'm not sure if I'll be strong enough to be broken again. I'm not sure if I can bear with it."

Baekhyun's eyebrows furrowed as he watched your eyes welling up. He didn't want to see those tears flowing on your cheeks. He didn't want to make you cry.

"Hey, hey." He quickly stood up and dragged his chair beside you. You sniffled as you looked away. "Baby. Hey. Don't cry. Okay, I'm not gonna push this courting shit on you. I'll wait, okay?"

What if he knew about what happened before? Wouldn't he be like everyone else? Would he disappear too? He's popular, and to stay popular, he needs to. He would be ruined because of me. I don't want to start something that I know will just bring pain to both of us.

You silently cried as he hugged you, pressing your head on his broad chest. You felt comforted by his warmth and his scent. His hands caressed your back as he quietly spoke to you.

"I just wanted to prove to you that I'm willing to court you and make you my only one."

You unexpectedly snorted at his cheesy words, making him pout. You chuckled as you saw him looking down at you.

"Sorry, that was too cheesy I couldn't handle it." You whispered on his chest, a smile tugging on your lips. "I understand, Baekhyun. I hope you can understand me too, until I'm ready to open up to you."

He smiled at your reply, pushing away the fact that you just snorted at his wonderful line.

"Okay, deal. No courting." He mumbled as he kissed your temple. You groaned at his sly advances. "Flirting then?"

"Oh shut it."

"You like me too, right?"

"I didn't say anything about that—"

"You do, Saejin-ah. You're just fighting it."

Your lips jutted out as you realize he was right—

AM I? AM I LIKING THIS PLAYBOY?! NO WAY, LEE SAEJIN.

"I like you, Lee Saejin." He whispered as he hugged you tighter. "Being this close to you makes me so happy." He nuzzled his nose on your hair like a puppy wanting attention.

"And you smell damn amazing—"

You quickly pushed him away and sat up straight. You ate your burger again as if nothing happened. You wiped your eyes with your sleeves, and chewed on your food. Baekhyun was still beside you, frowning at your response.

"Eat, Baekhyun." You sternly said as you nodded at his food. He sighed as he grabbed his food, but stayed beside you as he ate. Your lips tugged into a smile as you drank your soda.

You're scared, but maybe, just maybe...

—

Tagging my loves: ❤

—

♫ Ch.16

85 notes · View notes