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fvsm4x · 10 months ago

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✧RE(G)RET ; GOJO SATORU . . . . . CHAP 1.

✧SUMMARY: Pregnancy, usually a positive outcome of love between two partners that love each other deeply. But Pregnancy resulting from someone using you for their own pleasure is far from a positive outcome

— C.W: bully Gojo Satoru x female reader , pregnancy , sexual assault & harassment , mentions of abortion , mature themes/MDNI , bullying , angst , gojo is a dick , 18+ , fingering , sucking , nsfw , mature themes , dirty talk , dubcon

— WORD COUNT: 4.7k+

—A/N: I SWEAR GOJO WILL GET A CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT PLEASE DON‘T COME ATTACKING ME IF I WROTE HIM BEING A DICK

— TAGLIST: @watyousayin @zukowantshishonourback @wiqxx @jhutchlover67 @xxemmarldxx @sadmonke @chilichopsticks @neptunieesworld @sodoney @nessielovesfood @polarbvnny @mwtsxri @mynahx3 @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @reader69sviewpoint @emryb @starlightanyaaa @kiramdd @promiseofeywa @xuxieroll @tqd4455 @wateronlyhaha @stillpanicking @starrylibras @latorsgatorz @melancholysanatomy @cherryblossomly @littledemoness15 @thatsopanu @throwmethroughawindow @xkittiecatx @yihona-san06 @aikuoliverswife @mellow-mewow @r0ckst4rjk @virtuapicklequirkreader @heijihattorisgf @meoneee777 @ih8erika @haitanibros0007 @certainduckanchor @alisonyus @nothisispatrick300

NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

"No," you whispered, your voice trembling,"No. No. No."

You stared at the pregnancy test in your hand, your breath catching in your throat.

The room seemed to spin around you as you tried to process the reality of the situation. Your hand began to shake uncontrollably, and tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision.

Your heart pounded in your chest, its rhythm erratic and chaotic. Each beat seemed to echo in your ears, a constant reminder of the profound impact this revelation would have on your life. Slowly, your legs gave way beneath you, and you slid down the cold, tiled walls of the bathroom. The coolness seeped through your clothes, grounding you in the midst of the emotional storm raging within.

You glanced at the test again, desperately hoping that it was all just a mistake. But the reality of the situation sank in, causing your lower lip to quiver and tears to stream down your face. In a fit of frustration and despair, you threw the test across the room, its plastic casing clattering against the tiles. The sound seemed to reverberate through the silence, punctuating the gravity of the moment.

Your hands instinctively flew to your face, covering your mouth as you sobbed into them. This couldn't be happening. You weren't ready to become a parent, not yet. You were still in college, still young, and this felt like a cruel twist of fate. But deep down, you knew it wasn't a mistake.

The constant bouts of nausea, the missed periods, and the frequent trips to the bathroom left no room for doubt. You had suspected for a while now, but seeing the positive test confirmed your fears.

Thoughts raced through your mind, each one more frantic than the last. How would you manage your studies and a baby?

You couldn't afford to bring a child into the world right now. You were just 18, still trying to navigate your way through your studies, and you still lived with your parents.

To make things even more challenging, the baby you're carrying is from Gojo Satoru, your bully who took away your virginity without your permission.

—

The room echoed with the unmistakable sound of spurrrr, followed by a sudden splashh. A cold sensation enveloped you as something was poured over your head, and a sticky white liquid began cascading down your form, saturating your hair, uniform, and face. The wet strands of your hair clung to your face, covering your eyes in a veil of dampness.

The once pristine white dress shirt of your uniform became a translucent canvas, revealing the contours beneath as it absorbed the relentless flow of the liquid. A chill ran down your spine as the dampness seeped through the fabric, making you shiver involuntarily.

The table before you, once holding neatly arranged notes, became a collateral victim as drops of the liquid found their way onto your meticulously written papers. The carton responsible for this unexpected deluge was carelessly tossed into the midst of your notes, creating a chaotic scene as the remaining contents gushed out, further drenching everything in its path.

It was milk, strawberry milk.

Your gaze fixated ahead, a mixture of confusion and disbelief clouding your eyes as you attempted to process the unexpected deluge of strawberry milk.

As you stood there, momentarily lost in the aftermath of the incident, the air around you resonated with the muffled sounds of laughter. The echoes of amusement began to pierce through the disorientation, pulling you back to the stark reality of the situation. Laughter, a mocking symphony, surrounded you from all directions, each chuckle and giggle magnifying the embarrassment of your saturated state.

Laughter, laced with mockery, sliced through the air as a voice from behind you jeered, "Man, a pink bra, seriously?", you shifted your gaze downward, only to be met with the sight of the pink bra that had become inadvertently visible through the now translucent fabric of your wet shirt, courtesy of the strawberry milk shower.

A blush crept up your cheeks, and your immediate response was to instinctively raise your hand, hastily covering the exposed upper part. Fumbling with the wet fabric, you desperately scanned your surroundings, searching for your jacket to shield yourself from the prying eyes.

However, before you could make a move, an unexpected force gripped your wrist, tugging you forward. The sudden pull exposed your bra once again, and your eyes shot up to meet the person responsible for the intrusive gesture. Piercing blue eyes and a shock of white hair revealed the identity – it was Gojo.

His gaze lingered, assessing the situation with a faint smirk. "I think it looks cute," he remarked, his eyes lingering on you,

"Your taste is seriously something else..." The voice behind Gojo murmured with a hint of incredulity before retreating into the background, leaving you alone with the enigmatic figure.

Desperation edged into your voice as you muttered, "Let me go," attempting to free your wrist from Gojo's firm grasp. However, your pleas were met with nothing but Gojo's lingering smirk, his piercing blue eyes still focused on you as if savoring the discomfort he'd stirred.

His response, a nonchalant, "No, I don't want to," only tightened his grip, compelling you to raise your hand even further, inadvertently granting him an unimpeded view. The smirk deepened as Gojo's other hand encircled your waist, drawing you closer until your body was flush against his.

The proximity left you feeling exposed and vulnerable, the lingering scent of strawberry milk and the dampness of your clothes creating an uncomfortable backdrop. Gojo, seemingly indifferent to your discomfort, leaned in, his voice a low murmur against your ear. "I wonder if your panties are also pink," he teased, his words sending a chill down your spine, widening your eyes in disbelief.

"Wait..." you stammered, attempting to push yourself away, but the maneuver only seemed to pull you closer to him.

A low, contemplative hum escaped Gojo's lips as his hand, previously resting on your waist, began to go down. The touch trailed down your back, skimming the curve of your waist before settling on the contours of your ass cheeks, positioned above your skirtt and then slipping beneath the fabric.

A hushed protest escaped your lips as you whispered, "Stop," the warmth of a blush creeping up your face as his hand delved further, finding its way under your panties, intimately resting on your bare skin. The audacity of the intrusion left you breathless.

"C'mon, don't get shy on me now," Gojo chided with an unsettling nonchalance. "No one's here." His words echoed in the room, and you glanced around, realizing with a sinking feeling that everyone who had occupied the space before had dispersed, leaving you alone in the confined space with Gojo.

"I'm busy, please let go," you pleaded, attempting to push Gojo away, the urgency in your voice belying the embarrassment and discomfort that churned within you.

His response, a taunting, "Don't be shy, I know you want it,"

You felt a shiver as Gojo pressed himself against you, his bulge uncomfortably noticeable against your stomach. His hand, previously holding your wrist, ventured under your dress shirt, revealing the pink bra. Instinctively, your hand moved to intercept his advance, wrapping around his invading hand.

"Please stop," you pleaded, hoping he'd respect your discomfort.

A dismissive "Shut up" escaped Gojo's lips, his grip tightening as he continued, "I know you want it, so let me give it to you." His audacious words hung heavy in the air, making your vulnerability more palpable.

With a furrowed brow, you tried to resist, but the unwelcome touch persisted, leaving you feeling trapped and violated.

"I noticed the way you looked at me," Gojo asserted, "Always in those little skirts, clearly trying to grab my attention~. You wanted me to notice you, and now you have it, so don't act like you didn't ask for this."

His hand, previously on your exposed ass cheek, ventured downward, slipping into the delicate crevice between your cheeks, reaching the wetness at your folds. With a deliberate touch, he pressed two fingers between the folds, skillfully massaging the sensitive flesh, coaxing a whimper from your lips.

"So wet~," he murmured into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced slow circles around your sensitive bud of nerves, his words a seductive whisper, "Just for me, right?"

A whimper escaped your lips, your hand finding its place on Gojo's arm as you attempted to pull him away. In response, Gojo pressed into your clit, evoking a cry from your lips, the sensations tingling through your body.

"Don't try to stop me, sweetheart," Gojo murmured into your ear, his voice a sultry promise that heightened the intensity of the moment. He continued his relentless touch, coaxing more desperate sounds from you, his lips gently kissing the sensitive skin of your earlobe.

"You love this, don't you?" he teased, his words dripping with confidence. "You can't resist me," he continued, his fingers exploring every sensitive inch,

Your attempts to resist only seemed to fuel Gojo's determination. He increased the pressure on your clit, each touch sending waves of pleasure through your body, making it harder to focus on anything else.

"Don't fight it," Gojo urged, his voice a seductive whisper against your ear. His fingers danced skillfully, exploring your most intimate areas. "You're mine, and I know exactly what you need."

He punctuated his words with teasing strokes, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he reveled in the effect he had on you. The room seemed to spin as your defenses crumbled under the skillful touch, and your hand, once attempting to pull away, clutched onto Gojo's arm, seeking support in the escalating whirlwind of sensations.

"You're so responsive," he commented, his breath hot against your skin. "I can feel you clenching around me." His fingers continued their dance, the rhythm building, pushing you closer to the edge.

As you whimpered in response, "Let go, sweetheart. Embrace the pleasure. You know you want it," Gojo urged.

"I wonder what your brother would think about this," he mused, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Imagine the expression on his face when he discovers his little sister being fingered by his best friend. You truly are a slut..“

A feeble "S-shut up," escaped your lips, the whispered plea laden with a mix of vulnerability and desperation. Your eyes fluttered, slowly rolling back as Gojo inserted a finger, the intimate touch sending a wave of conflicting sensations through your body. A trace of your juices glistened on his hand, a tangible testament to the overwhelming desire that filled the room.

"You're so wet, literally dripping," Gojo observed, his voice a low murmur that echoed the satisfaction in his growing smirk. His free hand went to the cups of your bra, pushing it down and exposing your breasts. Your right breast became the focal point as his hand gripped into its softness. As he descended to an eye level with your exposed breast, his mouth opened, and he latched onto it with an undeniable hunger.

As Gojo's mouth covered your breast, he started sucking on your nipple with evident hunger. His lips sealed tightly around it, and his tongue began teasing circles, sending shivers through your body. The sensations grew more intense as the rhythmic sucking continued, prompting involuntary moans.

In an attempt to resist, you tried to push Gojo away, but he only intensified the suction.

You whimpered as the conflicting sensations of pleasure and resistance enveloped you. Gojo, undeterred by your feeble attempts to resist, continued his relentless assault on your senses. His fingers skillfully worked, dancing over the intimate areas, amplifying the intensity of the encounter.

"Such a good girl, letting yourself feel what you truly desire."

—-

You found yourself seated on the floor, bathed in the dimming sunlight that filtered through the window. The room had taken on a languid hue as the sun descended, marking the culmination of an encounter that seemed to leave more than just physical traces.

Your shirt hung open, showing a pink bra struggling to keep it together after the heated rendezvous. The smeared lipstick and mascara were clear signs of the passionate escapade. As you sat there, your legs trembled, and the lack of panties beneath your skirt hinted at the intimate moments that had unfolded.

The room felt both intimate and lonely as everyone, including Gojo, had left, leaving behind the aftermath of a liaison that blurred the lines between pleasure and regret. The echoes of your recent escapade and the missing panties were the only remnants of Gojo's presence.

At first, you hesitated, reluctant to lose your virginity to someone like Gojo. But eventually, you caved in, and you can't deny it felt good. You shoulder the blame for giving in – you enjoyed it, just like Gojo did.

Gojo is – a jerk, a player, who engages with women, gets what he wants, and then moves on. You unwittingly became one of his victims, transitioning from being bullied by him to being involved intimately with him.

You deeply regret giving in to the situation, feeling an overwhelming sense of remorse. If only you could turn back time and take action to prevent it from happening. But unfortunately, it was too late.

Slowly rising from the cold floor, you hastily grabbed your jacket and tied it around your waist, desperately hoping it would conceal the fact that you were not wearing any underwear at the moment. With your backpack slung over your shoulder, you began to make your way towards the exit, your legs trembling and unsteady.

Every movement you made caused a sharp hiss of pain to escape your lips. Your legs were sore from the intense encounter with Gojo, the person who had taken advantage of you. You couldn't help but wonder if he even realized that you were a virgin.

As you retrieved your phone from your backpack and turned it on, you were met with a flood of missed calls and messages from your brother, who happened to be Gojo's best friend. Glancing at the time displayed on the screen, you realized it was already 6 pm. You were supposed to be home by 3 pm, but Gojo had held you captive, causing you to be late. While you doubted your parents would be concerned about your tardiness, your brother certainly would be.

Just as you were contemplating your next move, your phone began to ring, displaying your brother's caller ID. Despite the pain and emotional turmoil you were experiencing, a weak smile formed on your face as you answered the call. The sound of loud shouting immediately filled your ears, a clear indication of your brother's worry and concern for your well-being.

"Where are you?" he shouted anxiously, causing a mixture of emotions to stir within you.

"Don't worry, I'll be home soon," you reassured him, your voice barely above a whisper. With your free hand, you carefully wiped away the smudged makeup on your face, attempting to regain some semblance of composure.

"I'm asking you where you are!" he yelled once again, his voice filled with frustration and fear.

You couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, a bittersweet response to his genuine concern. "I got held up here, but I'm fine. Please, don't worry about me," you replied,

„Should I come pick you up?“ he asked, his voice calming down.

You thought for a moment before replying with a short,“yes“

You figured it was better to wait for your brother then walk home, with no panties and sore legs.

Your brother replied,“Okay, I‘ll be there soon, wait for me, yeah?“ before hanging up.

After your brother hung up, you stepped out of the building, greeted by the gentle tones of the setting sun casting its warm glow. The wind played with your hair as you settled down by the stairs, patiently waiting for your brother to arrive and pick you up.

The events of the day echoed in your mind, and the weight of both regret and discomfort lingered. The building's facade cast long shadows as the sun continued its descent, creating a tranquil scene that contrasted with the turmoil within.

As the sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears, you couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and apprehension. It was your brother, finally arriving to pick you up. His concerned expression softened as he laid eyes on you, and you mustered a smile in response.

"I hope you didn't wait too long," he spoke, his gaze lingering on your figure, perhaps noticing the slight dishevelment.

"Don't worry, Suguru," you replied, trying to sound more composed than you felt. Walking together towards his car, the setting sun cast a warm glow over the world, signaling the end of a tumultuous day.

Just as you reached the car, your brother paused and turned to face you. "Oh, before I forget," he began, opening the door for you to get in. "You wanna come with me and Satoru to the bar today? It's your—"

"No," you cut him off abruptly, causing him to look at you with a questioning eye.

"Are you sure? I mean, it's your favorite place," he asked again, genuinely perplexed by your sudden refusal.

"I'm not feeling well. I just want to stay home," you lied, your voice betraying the mix of fear and shame that consumed you. The truth was, you couldn't bear the thought of seeing Gojo again. The fear of facing him, coupled with the overwhelming shame of what had transpired between you, made the idea of going to the bar unbearable.

"If it's because of Sat—" your brother started, only to be interrupted by you once more.

"No," you replied firmly, cutting off any further discussion. Your brother was aware of the constant bullying you endured from Gojo, how he treated you with cruelty and spite. However, he always brushed it off as his best friend's way of dealing with you, believing it to be harmless banter. Little did he know the true extent of the pain you endured.

The weight of the day's events hung heavily in the air, overshadowed by the looming apprehension of your brother discovering the truth. It was a delicate and complicated situation, as your brother shared a deep bond with Gojo, forged through years of friendship. Their connection was akin to that of siblings, and they had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. Both a year older than you.

This closeness only intensified your anxiety about how your brother might react if he were to uncover the events of the day. It wasn't just the fear of his disappointment or anger towards you, but also the possibility that he might side with Gojo, potentially jeopardizing their friendship. The thought of losing your brother was a heavy burden to bear.

You were scared. Scared of the repercussions, scared of the judgment, and scared of the uncertain path that lay ahead.

As you sat in the car, the soft glow of the streetlights illuminated the night sky, casting a darker hue of blue. The stars twinkled above, creating a mesmerizing backdrop for your thoughts. Lost in your own world, you barely noticed the car coming to a stop until a hand gently rested on your shoulder, bringing you back to reality.

"We're here," your brother muttered, stepping out of the car. You followed suit, opening the door and stepping out into the crisp, chilly air. Suguru closed the car door, and together, you made your way towards the apartment building where your family resided. Each step felt heavy, weighed down by the events of the day.

Entering through the front door, you kicked off your shoes and made your way towards your room. However, before retreating to the solace of your own space, you stopped by the living room where your parents sat, their attention fixated on the television.

"I'm back," you muttered, hoping for some acknowledgment or perhaps even a warm welcome. But your words seemed to fall on deaf ears as your mother barely glanced in your direction.

Feeling a pang of hunger, you mustered the courage to ask for dinner. "Do you have any food for me? I'm kind of hungry," you spoke, placing your backpack by the couch.

"We already ate, and there's nothing left. Go make your own," your mom replied dismissively, her attention still fixated on the television screen.

Desperate and feeling unwell, you pleaded with her. "Could you please make me something? I don't feel well and just want to lay down."

Her response was cold and unsympathetic. "No, we're busy."

Resigned to your fate, you sighed and picked up your backpack, making your way towards your room. The hunger gnawed at your stomach, but the exhaustion from the day's events weighed heavily on you. You threw yourself onto the bed, feeling drained, both physically and emotionally. A throbbing headache pulsed through your temples, and the pain in your lower body served as a constant reminder of what had transpired earlier.

Though your hunger persisted, you couldn't bring yourself to do anything about it. The thought of mustering the energy to cook or even eat felt overwhelming. All you wanted was to escape into the solace of sleep, hoping that tomorrow would bring some semblance of peace and healing.

"Are you okay?" a concerned voice murmured from behind the closed bathroom door. "You've been in there for a while now. I just want to make sure you're alright."

You glanced up from the positive pregnancy test that lay on the bathroom counter, your eyes meeting the door. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, and you struggled to find the words to respond. Instead, you simply stared at the door in silence.

"Are you okay?" your brother's voice came again, filled with worry.

"I'm okay," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling as you fought back tears. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Alright," your brother replied, his voice filled with understanding. "I'll wait for you in the living room. If you don't feel up to going anywhere, just let me know. I can go alone."

"No, don't worry. I'll come out in a few and get dressed. Then we can go," you replied, wiping away your tears with your sleeve and slowly getting up from the bathroom floor.

"Alright," your brother's voice drifted away as he walked back towards the living room, his footsteps fading into the distance.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, the evidence of your emotional turmoil was apparent – red eyes, swollen cheeks – you looked like a mess. But how could you not, discovering you're pregnant with someone you never wanted to be involved with? Sure, you played a part by giving in three weeks ago, but it was his fault too.

As a university student, you had limited financial resources, relying mostly on the support from your parents. However, they were not particularly generous, and it was Suguru, your brother, who provided the love and financial assistance you needed. Without him, you didn't know how you would have managed. He was the only person who truly cared for you.

You turned on the water tap and cupped your hands, splashing the cool water onto your face in an attempt to calm yourself. It helped, if only momentarily. Drying your face with a towel, you left the bathroom and made your way to your room to get dressed.

What were you supposed to do now? You were barely an adult, and the realization of your pregnancy left you feeling lost and overwhelmed. Without your parents and brother, you had nothing. The thought of them finding out filled you with dread. You couldn't blame them for being disappointed in you. In fact, you were disappointed in yourself too.

What would your brother think? The thought of his disappointment weighed heavily on your heart. You couldn't bear the idea of letting him down. And what if your parents found out? There was no doubt they would be upset. The fear of being kicked out of the house loomed over you, but you pushed those thoughts aside. Dwelling on them would only make them more likely to happen.

And then there was Gojo. How would he react when he found out you were pregnant? Given his track record of casual relationships, it was unlikely he would be thrilled. Would he tell you to get an abortion? Would he offer any help at all? Or would he simply mock you and tell you to deal with it on your own? You knew he wouldn't be happy, and the thought of his potential humiliation and disbelief made you shudder. It was best to keep it a secret, you decided.

As you turned around, ready to face the day, you were met with the stern gaze of your parents. "Explain this to me right now, young lady!" your mother yelled, throwing something at you. You caught it, only to realize it was the forgotten pregnancy test. The room filled with tension as your heart sank,

"I can't believe my daughter is like that. A whore." The accusation hung heavy in the air as your mother's words sliced through the tension. The pregnancy test in your hands became a damning piece of evidence, and you felt the weight of their disappointment.

Your mother's face contorted with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "We've been giving you everything – money, food, and a roof under your head – and this is how you repay us? By getting pregnant?"

You struggled to find words, to explain the complexity of the situation, but the lump in your throat made speech nearly impossible.

"What were you thinking?" your father interjected, his voice a mix of frustration and disappointment. "We trusted you, and you've thrown it all away."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you attempted to form an explanation. "I... I didn't plan for this. It's not like I wanted—"

"Don't give us excuses," your mother interrupted, her anger unabated. "This is a disgrace to this family. How could you bring such shame upon us?"

Your brother, having heard the commotion, entered the room. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. "What's going on?" he asked,

Your mother pointed at the pregnancy test, her anger not subsiding. "Look at what your sister has done. She's pregnant. Pregnant!"

Your brother's eyes flickered between you and the pregnancy test, an unspoken question etched on his face. The air grew thicker with tension as you struggled to find the right words to explain. Your mother, however, seemed past the point of understanding.

"Get out," she declared, her voice cold and unyielding. "You've brought enough shame to this family. I won't have you tarnishing our reputation any further."

Shock and disbelief painted your brother's face as he tried to interject, "Mom, maybe we can talk about this."

But your mother's anger prevailed. "No more talking. She's made her choice, and now she needs to face the consequences."

As the reality of being kicked out settled in, your heart pounded in your chest. You pleaded with your family, "Please, I didn't plan for this. I need your support now more than ever."

Your mother's expression remained unforgiving. "Support? After what you've done? You're on your own now. We won't enable your irresponsible behavior any longer."

Your brother, torn and unable to defy your mother's decision, could only meet your gaze with a pained expression.

With a final, stern look, your mother declared, "Pack your things and leave. You're no longer welcome here."

Numbness spread through your limbs as you realized the irrevocable shift in your life. Your mother's command hung in the air, and the reality of being disowned by your own family was a crushing weight on your chest.

Staring at the pregnancy test still clutched in your hand, you felt a mix of shame, regret, and desperation. The room, once a haven, now seemed like a foreign place ready to expel you.

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runariya · 5 months ago

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Drive to Survive (JJK) • Chapter 1 "Can't slow me down"

pairing: F1driver!Jungkook x female race engineer!reader genre: colleagues2L, formula1!AU, racing!AU, drama, kind of fantasy/cyborg!AU story rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: none word count: ~ 3.410

a/n: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Content errors related to the sport of Formula 1 are not excluded. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

🎵 MIRANI, lilBoI, GroovyRoom, VALORANT - Can't slow me down 🎵

series masterlist • 02

Standing alone at the deserted pit stop of the Mercedes AMG Petronas F1 Team, two days before the start of training for the eighteenth race out of twenty-four this weekend at the Hockenheimring in Germany, you can't help but exhale deeply. This moment marks the culmination of your ambitions, a goal you've pursued tirelessly since childhood.

Growing up in a motorsport family, you were immersed in the world of high-stakes automotive and racing enterprises equally surrounded by their high-ups thanks to your father. You admired everything about cars, particularly Formula 1. Every training session, qualifying round, and race became your passion and study material. Often, you found yourself in VIP lounges, observing the action alongside your father.

Your teenage years were a series of hard work and academic excellence, especially in STEM subjects like Mathematics, Physics, and Computer Science. These achievements earned you prestigious positions in robotics and engineering clubs. While others spent their free time socialising and partying like every normal and healthy teenager would, you dedicated yours to assisting smaller racing clubs with car setups, data analysis, and strategy planning.

In your late teenage years, you had the opportunity to accompany your father to a race once more, this time with the goal of making your own connections. You were on the brink of completing your bachelor’s degree as one of the youngest graduates in the world, with additional majors in automotive and aeronautical engineering. This combination was designed to secure your future and fulfil your aspiration of becoming a race engineer. Despite facing constant belittlement and pushback for being a woman—a feminine woman at that—and having few friends besides a handful of aspiring F1 drivers and some girlfriends of family friends, your social skills remained intact, thanks largely to your mother’s unwavering support and guidance. Her words were engraved into every cell of your being: „It’s okay to have your own passion.“ she said one day after you were again bullied at school for being the only girl at the robotics club, „There’s nothing inherently feminine or masculine about it. Wanting something in a male-dominated field doesn’t mean you have to shut off your feminine side or stop embracing who you are. It’s all part of you, so be proud of it—so am I.“

Meeting Toto Wolff, the team principal of Mercedes, and Mattia Binotto, team principal of Ferrari, was a dream come true. Their genuine interest in your future within their teams was a validation of your hard work. That day also marked your first encounter with Jeon Jungkook, a prodigious new talent under the Mercedes team and son of a former, now retired F1 driver. After enduring his lingering gaze for several uncomfortable seconds, the lame flirting that followed ade you turn away silently in mild disgust. You had no desire to entertain such behaviour, something you had grown accustomed to dismissing as one of the few—and even fewer attractive—women in the field.

Years flew by as you completed both your bachelor's and master's degrees with flying colours, nothing able to slow you down. Your relentless pursuit of your dream resulted in an offer from the Haas team for a race engineer position for the upcoming season. Although not your first choice due to reservations about their team principal, you saw it as a stepping stone in your career.

A week ago, you received a call from an unknown number late at night. You frowned, debating whether to send it straight to voicemail, as you were never a fan of calls, especially from someone not in your contact list. But something—a deep feeling in your gut—made you pick it up at the last second. Your heart rate spiked and stopped several times during the call when Toto himself offered you the position of race engineer for their first driver starting next week even though the season was in full swing. You tried hard to keep your tears of happiness from being heard through the receiver as you accepted and thanked him. The next day, you signed the contract sent via email, and after consulting with your father and lawyers, you sent it back. Then, you called to decline Haas' offer, which had yet to be formalised with a contract or any other written confirmation.

Now, here you stand at the starting line of a new chapter in your life, ready to embrace the challenges and triumphs that await. As a reminder pings on your phone, alerting you that it’s time to head to the Mercedes-Benz headquarters in Stuttgart for your first in-person briefing and introduction to the team and driver, you leave the premises of the ring with a smile on your face that illuminates the way to your car. A gentle breeze captures your hair, and the sunny day is filled with the sound of birds chirping—a symphony soon to be drowned out by the roar of engines.

As you arrive at the headquarters of Mercedes-Benz, you're granted access to the premises with an access card sent to you by post. Your own smiling face greets you from the card as you hang it around your neck. You drive towards the imposing glass building, its sheer size both awe-inspiring and commanding. Turning into the designated section of the underground garage, you park your car and make your way to the escalators. The ascent is smooth and swift, leading you up to the floor where the meeting room awaits.

You are dressed in a modest, yet professional dress that strikes the perfect balance between formality and approachability. From the outset, you made it clear that you would not conform to the typical attire of the men—dress shirts and pants. This choice has been met without objection, thanks to the variety of coats and accessories available from the merchandise shop for the team while on track. Your attire, though different, fits seamlessly into the polished, modern and dynamic environment of Mercedes.

As you make your way to the meeting room, you pass several acquaintances of your father, exchanging quick greetings in the process. The building exudes an air of opulence and cutting-edge modernity, a testament to Mercedes-Benz's commitment to excellence. The walls are adorned with intricate technical drawings and striking photographs of every car model the company has produced, each piece telling a story of innovation and precision.

In various corners, you notice miniature sculptures, meticulously crafted to capture the essence of the brand, alongside occasional pieces of abstract artwork that add a touch of artistic flair to the high-tech environment. These thoughtful touches elevate the space, creating a perfect blend of functionality and aesthetics. The glass front of the building provides a breathtaking view of the training grounds of the local football club, a team that competes in the national first league. You take a moment to appreciate the seamless integration of sports and engineering excellence, both striving for peak performance.

Turning the last corner, the meeting room comes into view where you see Toto, the technical director James Allison, George Russell's race engineer Song Joongki, George Russell himself, and Jeon Jungkook waiting for you. Walking confidently towards them, Jungkook is the first to notice you, his expression shifting from surprise to confusion, then realisation, and finally settling on repulsion within seconds. Internally, you sigh; professionalism, it seems, might be a stretch for him today.

You softly knock on the open door with a friendly smile, making eye contact with everyone as you greet them. Toto is the first to stand and quickly walks over to you, prompting everyone else to rise except for Jungkook, who only stands after George nudges him and whispers, "Don't be a dick."

You shake hands with Toto, a moment you had long dreamed of in this setting. "Good morning, __. Thank you for being here."

As Toto turns around and introductions follow, the room reveals a spectrum of reception, from warmth to evident boredom, particularly palpable in Jungkook's demeanour.

„Please have a seat.“ He motions to the empty chair beside him and Joongki. To your right, at the head of the table, are Toto and James, with Jungkook directly in front of you and George beside him.

Undeterred by Jungkook's thinly veiled hostility, which is a familiar challenge throughout your career, you settle in, extracting your tablet from your purse as Toto initiates the proceedings.

„Today, we’re introducing our new race engineer for Jungkook, ___. ___, welcome to the team.“

„Thank you, it’s great to be here.“

The encouraging voice of the James catches your attention. „We’re glad to have you onboard. You’ll be working closely with Jungkook, and I know you bring a wealth of knowledge that’ll compensate for your lack of experience.“

„Yeah, welcome to the team. And if you need any help settling in or understanding our processes, feel free to ask.“ Joongki smiles kindly your way, toying with his pencil.

„Thank you, I appreciate that.“

Toto continues, ignoring Jungkook’s scoff beside him. „As you know, our team philosophy revolves around meticulous preparation and strategic execution. Let’s discuss what you’ve been focusing on since joining us a week ago and how we’ll integrate your approach into our existing strategies.“

Now it's your time to shine. Every previous conversation in this field has been off-track and informal. Now is your chance to prove you are worth their trust and the right choice for the job. „Certainly. I’ve been reviewing the recent race data and simulations, especially focusing on Jungkook’s driving style and preferences. I’ve also been familiarising myself with our car’s setup and the team’s historical performance at this circuit.“

As you mention Jungkook's name, you glance briefly at him. He stares back at you without blinking or moving, his reaction unclear—whether positive or negative that you mentioned his name.

„Good to hear. Jungkook has specific preferences regarding car balance and feedback. Have you had a chance to discuss these details with them?“ James asks further.

„Not yet, but I’ve prepared a setup proposal based on our simulations and historical data. I plan to discuss it with Jungkook later today, if he’s free.“

Jungkook's eye twitches at that, his face showing clear signs of displeasure. Nonetheless, he nods his head once.

Sensing the awkward atmosphere, George interjects casually with a warm laugh to ease the tension, „Jungkook prefers a more stable rear end through the high-speed corners, just a heads-up. He’s very particular about it.“

„Understood. I’ll make sure to incorporate that into our setup options.“ you note it down immediately.

„Our drivers rely heavily on trust and communication with their engineers. Building that rapport is crucial for success on the track. How do you plan to approach this relationship?“ Toto challenges you, making it clear everyone in the room senses Jungkook's hostility.

You are certain that the job requirements themselves will not be the most challenging aspect; rather, it will be establishing a stable relationship with Jungkook. His approval and cooperation will ultimately determine whether you can secure your position and succeed in this role or face immediate dismissal.

You met Jungkook's gaze directly, intent on conveying your sincerity. “I believe in open communication and transparency. I aim to build a strong working relationship with Jungkook based on mutual trust and respect. I’ll be proactive in seeking their feedback and ensuring they feel fully supported.”

Your words seem to have struck a nerve, evidenced by Jungkook's growing irritation. There’s a short silence until George discreetly kicks Jungkook under the table. Jungkook coughs, masking a wince from the kick, and replies with a forced smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “I appreciate that approach. Communication is key during the race weekend, especially with strategy adjustments and car performance updates.”

You are slightly startled by James' clap. “Perfect. Let’s ensure our focus remains on optimising our performance for the upcoming race. ___, if you need any additional resources or support, don’t hesitate to reach out. We’re all here to ensure both drivers have the best possible setup and strategy.”

“Thank you. I’m excited to contribute to our team’s success.”

“Excellent. Let’s continue our preparations. We have a packed schedule ahead of us. ___, welcome once again. Let’s make this a successful weekend.” Toto's words do little to soothe the burn of Jungkook's scrutinising stare.

After one and a half hours of intense briefing, Toto finally adjourns the meeting. The next session is set for Friday morning at the track, with every staff member involved in the training scheduled for that day.

As the room begins to empty, George turns to you with a warm smile. “Okay, let me properly welcome you to the team. I’m super excited to have you on board.”

“I’m very honoured, thank you, Mr. Russell.”

“Oh, please, call me George.” Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Jungkook rolling his eyes and throwing his head back while George approaches and embraces you in a short, welcoming hug.

“Oh wow, you’re taller than I thought,” you say to George after pulling away, Jungkook faking gag sounds.

“And you’re so tiny.” George ruffles your hair which earns him a playful glare. “Anyways, I’ll leave you both to it. See you tomorrow.” He winks and heads out. After a moment, his head pops back in. “You,” he points to Jungkook, “behave.” And with that, he's gone.

A silence stretches between you and Jungkook, both of you locking gazes in a challenge you didn’t realise was happening until you blink and Jungkook bursts out, “Ha! You lost.”

You blink again, slower this time, perplexed by the absurdity of it all. “Okay, now that that’s settled, let’s get down to business, shall we? So, the Hockenheimring was dropped from the calendar for the last few years, so it’ll be not only new to me but also to…”

Jungkook interrupts, “Why are you so obsessed with me?”

You slowly turn your gaze from your tablet to him, blinking as you compose yourself. “We should obviously review the track. I’m sure you’re aware of its tight hairpins and long straights. Also, I’d like to know your preferred tires so the technical sectors don’t…”

Jungkook scoffs, clearly not having listened to a word you said. His arms are crossed, his look equal parts challenging and condescending. “It all makes sense now. You’ve been obsessed with me since the first time you saw me. Doing everything in your power to work with me. Even graduating ridiculously young and declining the offer from Haas.”

Your irritation reaches a boiling point. “I think it’s funny you’ve kept tabs on me for all those years.”

“No, I haven’t. It’s common knowledge. You’ve always wanted a piece of me. It’s flattering, really.”

“I can assure you, my interest has always been in the job, not in you. And it’s flattering to know that my vitae seems to be common knowledge to you.”

“Sure, sure. You don’t have to play coy. It’s perfectly natural to be drawn to someone as experienced as I am. But let’s keep things professional, alright?”

“Fine by me.” You smile at him, relieved that he seems to be cooperating. “So, yes. The tires you’d prefer to…”

Jungkook interrupts again, and you slump defeatedly into your seat, looking at the ceiling. “It’s just that your enthusiasm to work with me comes off as a bit… personal. But don’t worry, I can handle it.”

Having had enough of this kindergarten behaviour, you counter with a flat tone. “If anyone’s having trouble handling things, it seems to be you. Your comments suggest you’re projecting your own feelings onto me.”

“Projecting? That’s a bit of a reach. I’m just stating what I’ve observed.” Jungkook acts surprised, an exaggerated hand on his chest.

After spending the first hours with Jungkook in this room, you knew you’d have to set boundaries and make your intentions clear. It’s well known in the media that he’s a flirt, and sometimes his success goes to his head. But you’re trained and prepared for this kind of behaviour. It’s not your first nor will it be your last rodeo.

“What you’ve observed is likely coloured by your own assumptions. I’m here to work. If you feel uncomfortable with my presence, perhaps it’s your own obsession that’s the issue.”

Jungkook’s ears tint red. “My obsession? That’s absurd. I’m perfectly professional.”

And for good measure, you push further. “Yet you seem fixated on making this about something other than work. It’s almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself of something.” You can’t suppress the twitch of your lip.

“I… No, that’s not it at all. I’m just pointing out what I’ve noticed.” He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, the red tint slowly spreading from his ears to his cheeks.

And because you’re a little bit petty because of his behaviour in the hours prior, you make him squirm a little bit more. “What you’ve noticed is a fabrication of your own making. Let’s stay focused on the race. If you can’t handle working with me professionally, that says more about you than it does about me.”

“I’m completely professional! It’s just… Look, let’s just get this done.” Jungkook is clearly embarrassed.

“Exactly. Let’s focus on the tires for now and leave personal assumptions out of it, hm?” The smile you send him is plastic.

The atmosphere in the room is thick with tension. Jungkook's eyes dart away, his earlier bravado crumbling. He clears his throat and finally sits straight up, pulling his own tablet in front of him.

"Fine, let's talk about the tires," he says, his tone grudgingly compliant.

You take a deep breath, trying to reignite the professional spirit that this meeting was supposed to uphold. "The Hockenheimring has a mix of high-speed straights and tight hairpins, so we'll need a tire that offers a balance between grip and durability. What’s your preference?"

Jungkook’s expression becomes more focused, the professionalism shown for the first time. Something you only heard about. “Mediums for the practice sessions, hards for the race. We can test softs during qualifying.”

You nod, noting down his preferences. “Good choice. The mediums should give us the flexibility we need for adjustments. Now, about the strategy for turn six. It's notorious for causing understeer. We need to adjust the front wing angle…”

As you delve into the technical details, you notice Jungkook finally paying attention. His eyes are on the data, and he’s engaging with the information. The earlier hostility seems to fade, replaced by a shared focus on the task at hand.

“This setup should help mitigate the understeer,” you continue, showing him the adjustments on the screen. “It’ll also improve stability through the Parabolika.”

Jungkook nods, his demeanour much more serious now. “That makes sense. I’ve had issues with that turn in the simulation. If we can nail the setup, it’ll give us a significant advantage.”

“Exactly,” you say with a genuine smile in your face, feeling a small sense of accomplishment. “And for the long straights, we’ll need to optimise the downforce. It’s a tricky balance, but I believe we can find the sweet spot.”

The conversation flows more smoothly, the professional exchange slowly bridging the gap that had earlier felt insurmountable. By the time you wrap up the discussion, there’s a mutual respect in the air.

“Alright, I think we’re set for now,” you say, shutting off your tablet. A smile now permanently on your face, you notice Jungkook's motions falter a bit as he packs up, his gaze meeting yours. He seems taken aback by your joyful demeanour, having not noticed the shift in your expression since the conversation turned serious some time ago. “I’ll finalise these settings and we’ll review them again on Friday.”

Jungkook stands, looking somewhat still not fully convinced of you but also more cooperative. “Thanks for the detailed rundown. I appreciate it.”

Still, you offer him a genuine smile, hoping this marks the beginning of a more collaborative relationship. “No problem. Let’s make sure we’re both on the same page from here on out.”

He nods, and with a final, respectful glance, he leaves the room. You watch him go, feeling a mix of relief and cautious optimism. It’s been a challenging start, but you’re determined to make this partnership work.

As the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. The road ahead is long, but with focus and determination, you’re confident that you’ll both rise to the challenge.

series masterlist • 02

a/n 2: lmk what you think in any way you like! please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for upcoming chapters 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

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lovelyiida · 2 years ago

Text

THE RACE TO WEDDING BELLS ❤︎︎

CHAPTER 1: THE SIMPLETON; YOU.

"accept calls from strangers."

❥ SYNOPSIS: as the years passed, Bakugo realized he was the last among his class to tie the knot. As the days grew colder, and the nights became lonelier. Bakugo finds the desire to get married, but he doesn't really feel like falling in love. At least he has his trustee secretary!

implied fem reader, aged-up! Pro-hero MHA characters over the age of 27, vulgar language, suggestive wording and content

❥: CHAPTERS

❥ MASTERLIST

❥ JOIN TAG LIST!

WORDS: 6.7K

You are a hard-working citizen, you are straightforward, diligent, focused, and most of all. You don’t take anyone’s shit.

Since a young age, you harbored grand aspirations of collaborating with the renowned hero Dynamight. Even during your high school years, witnessing the fledgling hero proclaims his ambition to become the top hero to millions of viewers on live national television deeply resonated with you.

He was a hero you admired deeply, whether that was in combat or in any other position.

Driven by an intense desire to be in close proximity to the fiery and passionate hero, you applied yourself with unwavering diligence. Night after night, you immersed yourself in rigorous study, methodically reviewing each cue card until the ink was exhausted and the pencils were rendered brittle from the forceful strokes onto your notebook.

Before you knew it, you graduated college majoring in hero analysis with a minor in communications.

the first few years after college were hard, without any significant connections, you had little to no experience beforehand to get any major positions in well-affiliated agencies.

Pizza for breakfast and granola bars for dinner, staying up for days and sleeping fewer nights. Going to countless amounts of interviews, passing trial after trial.

yet denied, denied, denied.

you began to lose hope, you felt that all the hard work you did was for nothing. You were fearful of the eventual future set in place for you. A dead-end office job at some random corporate office that could barely pay the bills, "comfortable" housing, and an urge to die because you never lived up to your expectations.

On a rain-soaked day in Japan, a biting chill permeated the air as the relentless downpour battered your umbrella, the droplets cascading off its surface with effortless ease. As you made your way from yet another failed interview, the weight of repeated rejection hung heavily upon you.

This time, however, you didn't feel particularly upset about it. The hero's demands were simply unreasonable, and you had no intention of acquiescing to such outlandish requests. After all, the hero's accomplishments were hardly noteworthy and their reputation was far from impressive. Barely reaching the top 100 rated heroes in Japan, he wasn’t worth any second of your time.

With a resigned sigh, you trudged out into the bustling streets of Japan, surveying the sea of faces before you with a critical eye. Among the throngs of people passing by, you observed carefree children strolling hand in hand with their parents, and trendy teens sporting high-waisted shorts and fishnet stockings, flaunting their disregard for the curfew that surely awaited them.

The distinction between the two groups of people made you notice something…you either abide by the rules or defied them.

So then what were you?

You were the simpleton of course, sadly...

Like so many others trudging along these rain-soaked streets, you found yourself caught up in the unrelenting hustle to secure a job that would never truly fulfill you. Your expression was weighed down by the burden of this unending search, with a heavy heart and a growl in your stomach. you absentmindedly made your way into a nearby ramen shop.

the chill of the rain subsides to the warm embrace of the restaurant. Bustling voices of citizens and the loud clanks of kitchenware. you were greeted by the workers and you bowed. setting your things down at an absent table, you look over to the ordering tablet. clicking a couple of buttons, you ordered your meal. Before you could sulk in your seat, your phone buzzes.

Jolting in surprise, you pick up the phone to read the contact name:

UA WORKFORCE CORP.

Your eyes lit up with unbridled joy as a rush of adrenaline surged through your body. The reason for this sudden surge of excitement was none other than the prospect of being selected as a trainee with UA Corporations, whether it be through the prestigious school or one of the legendary hero agencies affiliated with it.

It all began last year when you submitted your application, and the possibility of this dream finally becoming a reality now had you feeling electrified.

Around a couple of months, you've passed through multiple rounds of other people who have applied for the position. Interview after interview, test after test, you knew that if you got the job you'd be on the track that led you to your dream.

"hello!" you said excitedly.

"yes, hello, is this l/n y/n?" a woman says on the other end of the line. You quickly confirm your identity with the woman. "hello there, I'm here to give you acknowledgment of the results of the final round pick for the UA CORP. affiliates position." the woman's voice rang through your phone, heart beating fast...breath staggered your reply.

"y-yes?" you stuttered.

"Yes, l/n, I'm sorry to inform you--"

[CALL ENDED]

With a swift press of a button, you ended the call, throwing your phone onto the table you sit in silence. tears began to stream down your face as you lowered your head to the table. Your body was wracked with sobs, each tear that fell causing your breath to catch in your throat.

why are you not good enough?

As the weight of reality bore down on you, your tears flowed even harder, your throat constricting as you tried to swallow. Was all your hard work for so reason? Are your dreams non-attainable? Is this just not the past you're destined to take?

After a moment, you sat back up in your seat, heedless of the tears and makeup staining your white button-down shirt. With red-rimmed eyes, you reached for your phone and began to scroll through Google, determined to find some sort of solution to the crushing blow you had just been dealt.

'office jobs near me.'

biting your lip, you try and stop your lip from quivering. you felt as if you were destined for despair since you were a child.

Like so many others, you too idolized heroes when you were young, running around your house with makeshift masks and capes that resembled the same heroes you watched on TV. Full of youthful hope and possessing a fairly decent quirk, you dreamed of one day joining the ranks of these legendary figures.

Fast forward a few years, and you found yourself in middle school. After a long day of classes, you trudged your way back home, collapsed onto your bed, and drifted off into a deep sleep, ready to take on whatever the next day had in store for you.

but the only thing is, you didn't wake up.

you didn't wake up for another three days to be exact. when you finally awoke in the hospital, your parent broke the news to you. You seemed to catch a very rare parasite, this parasite can leave the host sickly with fever, very drowsy, and worst of all...

quirkless.

The following week at school, you shared the news with your classmates: you were essentially quirkless now. But instead of receiving words of encouragement and hope, you found yourself labeled an outcast by everyone around you.

"the girl who lived, but at the cost of her quirk."

Years later, the news still shook you to your core, and you couldn't help but feel stunned. present day, you've noticed that you could still use your quirk from time to time. around 10 times a year, your quirk would come and go in little spurts. but as time grew long, you became accustomed to not using it for a long time, so you never did.

so now here you were, alone, quirkless, and a soon to be slave to the corporate world.

cheeks stained with mascara, eyes red, and head pounding, you look over to the ordering tray, sliding out the hot ramen ready to be consumed.

"at least this ramen can make me feel better," you mumbled to yourself. Taking the large bowl from the tray, you set it out on the table and began to dig in. As you eat, you begin to scroll ok your phone looking for regular office jobs…

Manager at printing company? No.

Office associates needed at tech company? No.

Receptionist at steel company? No way.

Senior communications analyst? What?

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

Deny, deny, deny!

This can’t be your reality right? How are you going to break this down to your parents?

Deep in thought, you didn’t even realize that someone slid in your booth. Tapping away on your phone, you open your messages.

Group chat: Mom & Dad

you: hanging in there! So close!

letting out a sigh, you open the camera app. Looking at the screen you see yourself, torn up from the floor up. Eyes a faint pink contrasting from the red they were a few moments beforehand. Pressing your lips together into a line, you quickly tap your screen to flip your camera.

Flipping your camera, you stare at the screen. A man appears on the other side, as he looks at the camera in embarrassment.

Eyes widening you gasp, “Excuse me, but there’s other seats around,” you try to sound as nice as possible, but why should you be nice if today hasn’t been so nice to you back?

The man was covered in black from head to toe, black hood on tight, as he looks at you. Black-shaded glasses and a matching face mask on him.

“Um, can I sit with you please?” He says.

Rolling your eyes, you become irritated, “no. now if you can please move–“

“Please, I can’t sit alone, people will notice me!” He whispers, body leaning in towards you, jolting backward, you frown in confusion.

“What?” You say, tone cold and filled with irritancy.

“Um…listen this is the only time I’ve got to myself, and I love this place! And if people see me alone then they’ll notice me, so can I just please sit with you?”

Blinking rapidly, you grew quiet.

Looking around, you see no one looking toward you or the mysterious man ahead of you. Looking back, you then sink into your seat. Grabbing your face with your hands, you soon let out a deep sigh.

“Sure, fuck it, go ahead, this day can’t possibly get any worse!” You laugh to yourself. This makes the man’s head tilt. “May I ask why your day is bad?” He says. Removing your hands from your face you give him a deadpan look. Licking your lips you sit up from your chair and grab your utensils.

Stirring your noodles around you let out a dry chuckle, “Let’s just say things never go the way I want them to—and there’s also a random man in front of my face when I could really like being alone at the moment…the small things.”

You say, sarcasm drenched with every word you spoke. This makes the man laugh, “Sorry your day has been shit.”

Leaning into his seat, you crossed his arms. “Maybe I can make your day better? Go ahead, have at me,” the man says.

Letting out an irritated sigh, you confess.

“The only thing that can make me happy at the moment, is if you can somehow give me a job at UA Corp.”

You chuckle, the utter impossibility of what you just said made it humorous. “Really?” The man says. “Really,” you replied back.

“I think I can do that,” he says, his tone relaxed and suave—he sounds as if he can in fact…do that.

“As if,” you snort.

“You wanna make it a bet?” He says, his tone was playful and a tad bit flirtatious. “I can get you to work for the top pro-hero’s in the country, all I need to do is make the call.” He says as every word falls off his tongue with no effort.

This peaks your interests.

“You don’t say?” you reply back.

“Who do you want to work for sweetheart? Just give me any name.” He says.

“Okay…Dynamight, I—I want to become a secretary! That’s the position!” You say, your tone desperate and hopeful.

The man smirks behind his mask, “Okay.” Pulling out his phone, he hands it to you. “Give me your number, you’ll be getting a call soon.” He says, biting your lip you grab the phone and do as he says.

You're well aware of the dangers of blindly accepting what strangers say; it's like common sense 101. And yet, here you are, drawn towards a man who's covered in black from head to toe. It's not the smartest move, but there's just something about him that makes you want to place your faith in him. You can't quite put your finger on it—maybe it's the intensity of his gaze, or the air of mystery surrounding him—but you can't help but feel a strange attraction towards him. It's a risky move, but sometimes you just have to trust your gut, even if it defies all reason.

“Do you promise?” You spoke softly, this earns a chuckle out of the man, “Of course! You’re making a deal with a god—not a devil.”

As you gaze into the stranger's dark eyes, you can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine. There's something about him that doesn't sit right, and whatever god he may or may not represent, he's not exactly acting like one. But despite your reservations, you continue to chat with him, and as the conversation flows, you begin to let your guard down. Eventually, you find yourself sinking back into your seat, pouting slightly as you polish off the rest of your meal. You can't quite put your finger on it, but there's just something about this mysterious man that's drawing you in, despite all the warning signs.

You're not quite sure how to process the choices you've made, given how impulsive they were. It's not exactly the wisest decision to act on a whim fueled by intense emotions, but you simply didn't give a damn. Life's been pretty rough lately, and if things are already this bad, then why not make them even worse? That seems to be your thought process, as you ride the waves of your tumultuous feelings, consequences be damned.

throwing your utensils into the empty bowl, you gather your things and shuffle out of the booth. Standing before the mysterious man, you frown. "are you going to eat anything?" you ask.

"Nah, I think I'm gonna eat somewhere else...you've made me have a taste for something different." Soon, the man jumps out of his seat and walks away, brushing past your shoulder with ease.

Astonished, you look back and watch the man leave out the restaurant in a hurry.

What just happened?

for the rest of the day, you carried yourself through your regular routine. eat, think, cry, repeat. As day turned to noon, and noon falls to night...you grew anxious for a reply from the mysterious man you met earlier today. Heart pounding and blood running cold you sit in your apartment kitchen, your phone a couple of feet away from you on the kitchen counter. As you were sitting on the other side, the wooden chair creaked with every movement you made.

You didn't know what to think of the situation before you, looking around the apartment, the shadows grew as you fell deeper into the times of night. Looking at the clock, it read 10:39pm.

Letting out a sigh, you rise from your seat and grab your phone. you head into your bedroom, crashing onto your bed (that could be softer) you lay and stare at the ceiling.

"Is this my life now?" you questioned yourself.

You purse your lips and shut your eyes tight, hoping to drift off into slumber and escape the terrible day that's left you feeling like crap. Sleep seems like the perfect distraction—a chance to shut out the world and forget all the stress and negativity that's been weighing you down. With a deep breath, you try to clear your mind and let yourself sink into the warm embrace of sleep, hoping that tomorrow will be a better day.

RING RING RING RING

the sounds of your phone sound an alarm through your body, shooting up from your bed you scramble to your phone. breath staggered and heart pounding, grabbing the phone you read the contact number.

ANONONYMUS CALLER

eyeing the phone more, you read the time. 5:57am? It's way too early to be answering calls...but you knew this call could be important. Taking in a deep breath, you answer the phone.

"h-hello?" you say, you breathed hard onto the other end. Anticipating the voice on the other end of the phone. A moment has passed by, the phone still attached to your ear, you sit on your bed waiting for someone to speak.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" you ask again, you hear nothing but static on the other end. Swallowing your spit, you curse and begin to end the call.

"l/n, isn't it?" a familiar voice rang out, eyes widening you press your ear back onto the phone. "yes! This is she!" you softly exclaimed.

"you've got the job, I'm sending you the location of where you need to be...meet me there at 8:30am sharp not a minute before, not a minute after. Do you understand me?" the voice rang cold, monotone, and raspy.

your heart was jumping out of your skeleton at this point, unable to refuse, you complied. "Okay! Thank you again, for helping me...whoever you are," you say.

"Don't mention it, you'll know who I am, and soon everything will fall into place," maybe you were hearing things, but you could hear a twinge of humor in his tone.

before you could reply, the phone disconnected from the call. you couldn't believe it. "I'm working for Dynamight?" you say aloud, in disbelief. A smile etched onto your face, but you soon wiped it off.

Standing from your bed, you began to pace. "let's not celebrate now y/n, there are still many factors that need to be noticed..."

factors which are:

where is this location?

this could be a trafficking scam

you could be dead in a couple of hours

but what if it was real?

The power of belief was astounding—it seemed that the mere possibility of something being real outweighed all other considerations tenfold. Excitement bubbled up inside you as you prepared to head to the location, eagerly zooming around your room to fix your hair and makeup. You even practiced your best customer service voice, running through lines and mentally rehearsing how you would handle different scenarios. All that mattered was making a good impression, and the prospect of the unknown made your heart race with anticipation.

"How can I help you Mr. Dynamight?" "Your meeting is scheduled at this time Mr. Dynamight" "Would you like any coffee Mr. Dynamight?" you in your sweetest voice possible. Giggling in excitement you reach for the bottom drawer of your dresser. Pulling the drawer, you smile with excitement.

"The time has come, you're finally getting what you deserve." Looking down at the clothes before you, you planned on wearing this outfit for the first day on the job.

You expected to find your outfit covered in cobwebs when you pulled it out of the drawer, but to your surprise, it was in impeccable condition. Not a single wrinkle marred the pristine fabric, and there wasn't a single stain to be found. You had ironed and steamed everything to perfection, determined to look your absolute best. Your outfit was the epitome of sophistication - a classic white button-down paired with sleek black work pants and matching heels. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as you admired yourself in the mirror, ready to tackle whatever challenges lay ahead.

throwing your clothes on, you read the clock, 7:51am. eyes widening, you look at yourself in the mirror one last time before grabbing your things and rushing out the door.

flagging down a taxi, you hurriedly give the driver the location. your heart leaped from your chest once more when you read the location details on the screen.

DYNAMIGHT RIOT HERO AGENCY ©

this is seriously happening? you thought to yourself.

"you work there ma'am?" the taxi driver asks. a new rush of pride washes over you, "yes, I do...it's my first day." you say, a shy smile paints over your face. "congrats, I heard it's not so easy getting a job at places like that, my niece tried to work there but got denied after 2 years of interviews."

"wow," was the only word that could come out of your lips.

"how'd you get in? connections?" he pries. "um...you could say that, but I think I got here out of pure luck, you wouldn't believe it." You chuckle, the man smacks his lips at your reply, obviously upset at your success. Forming your mouth into an "oh," you sit back in your seat and look away from the man.

The silence between you and the man lingered awkwardly for what felt like an eternity, as the taxi sped on for the next 20 minutes. You were relieved to finally see the agency's headquarters looming up ahead, massive in size and bold in color. The building stood tall, almost like a skyscraper, with bright hues of red and orange radiating from its walls. Your eyes widened in amazement as you watched countless people streaming in and out of the entrance, going about their day-to-day business. As the taxi slowed to a stop, the driver tried to navigate his way toward the front of the building, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement and nervousness at what lay ahead.

"Thank you!" before the taxi could even stop, you jump out of the vehicle. Throwing your total amount for the ride into the car, you slam the door and rush towards the building. Clutching your briefcase tight, you swallow the lump in your throat.

Before stepping forward, you feel your phone vibrate. It's another text from the man you met yesterday.

ANONYMOUS:

walk into the building and head straight into the right elevator by the bathroom, when you get in go to the 21st floor.

when you get there, there will be a front desk. ask for red. tell them your name, and they'll know who you are.

a lady will lead you into a room, wait there until further notice.

"Here goes nothing," putting the phone away you do as you were told and walk into the building. you were absolutely astonished by the size of the first floor, to the point where you became overwhelmed. businessmen and woman hustling to their destination, mascots dancing to the faint music, trying to stay on the beat but the sound of children screaming in amusement drown out the tempo. tour guides leading the way for curious visitors.

This place was a workplace war zone...

Letting your heels carry you away, you head towards said elevators. you waited patiently in line to enter the elevator. looking at the elevators, you look at the vinyl art on it. It's a picture of Dynamight and his partner Red Riot, fists in the air and victorious smiles shining bright you read the quote on the elevator.

"Work hard, grab victory by the throat, and win!"

Very Dynamight coded, you'll say.

Packing into the elevator like sardines, you notice there's an assistant there who presses the buttons. Do they seriously need a position like that here? "Floor 21 please!" you yell out. You notice the multiple workers give you an unreadable look, frowning you hang your head low in embarrassment.

After a good 2 minutes of waiting your turn, you finally reach your designated floor. squishing past the still rather large group of people, you take in a deep breath of fresh air. Holding your briefcase tight, you look back and thank the assistant.

"good luck, you'll need it," the assistant and everyone else in the elevator starts to burst into a fit of laughter. Confused, you were about to ask why but the elevator quickly closed. Adjusting your uniform, you bite the inside of your cheek.

"Don't let them get to you y/n, this is your dream," you reassure yourself, stepping towards the front desk. you see a lady, her mid-forties at least. typing rapidly at her computer. "Excuse me, ma'am," you say softly, you watch as the lady's typing comes to a swift halt.

"yes?" she says, rather rudely, still looking at her computer.

Blinking, a little bit held back from shock "Hi, I'm here to see Red? I-I'm l/n y/n." The lady soon lets out a chuckle, turning away from you, she opens up a drawer and pulls out a paper. Pulling at the paper, she grabs a pen and writes your name down and hands you a name tag sticker.

As you examined the sticker more closely, you couldn't help but cringe at its childish design. Tiny caricatures of pro-heroes adorned the borders of the "Hi, my name is!" label, and you felt a pang of embarrassment as you peeled it off and quickly slapped it onto the left side of your chest, right over your heart. It was a small gesture, but it hurt your pride to have to wear something so unprofessional.

"Please walk into that room over there...and also, word of advice, you should start wearing all black," the lady smirks, taking her hands and running them down her body. showing you that she is in fact, wearing all black. Looking down at your white shirt, you face heats up from your embarrassment. "may I ask why?" you say. The lady continues to do her work, not even giving you a look of acknowledgement.

Nodding, you give a polite bow and head into the waiting room. As you walk into the room, you're filled with shock. the room was quite large...but there was only one seat? Deadpan in the middle of the room, the metal chair sits unharmed. you laugh out of nervousness, the sight of the chair makes the embarrassment you felt merely seconds ago wash away.

Walking to the seat, you sit and patiently wait. The sound of the fluorescent lights buzzing, at the white noise, fills your eardrums. you quietly tapped your fingertips against your briefcase to the imaginary beat in your head. looking around, all you see is the grey carpeting and white walls, and the tv straight ahead of you.

You waited for a good 30 minutes in silence, distracting yourself on your phone as you waited, and waited, and waited. You constantly kept checking your messages, hoping for another anonymous message, but was left with a dry phone.

letting out a sigh, you frown. "is this some joke?" looking around the room, you spot a security camera behind you in the corner of the room. it's blinking red light flashing into your eyes, turning around you ponder to yourself.

"This must be a joke, that's why everyone has been laughing at me this whole time. I should've never came here," defeated, you began to gather your things. As you stood up to head for the door, the lights soon cut off. you let out a yelp, walking in the dark your hands extend out for the chair behind you, soon with a sigh you sit down. The tv you saw soon cuts on, a bright white screen shines and takes over the whole room.

"WELCOME L/N Y/N!" the screen says blankly, the text blinking on and off, if this was supposed to invoke excitement, it's doing the bare minimum. you stare at the screen and wait for anything else, but the screen soon goes black. another minute in the dark passes by as you sit in your seat absolutely dumbfounded.

The screen turns on again, this time there's faint music sounding from it. soon you see a random person on the screen, probably a paid actor. "hello there fellow newbie! Welcome to Dynamight Riot Hero's Headquarters! Today, I'll be with you along the ride as we both become secretaries!" the actress, obviously way too happy to be here inquiries.

after watching the 10-minute-long do's and don't's video, the screen blinks to white again. squinting your eyes at the bright light, the black sans serif font shows on the screen again.

KEY REMINDERS:

DON'T TELL ANYONE YOU'RE A SECRETARY!

BE A GOOD WORKER!

ALWAYS BE ON TIME!

AND MOST OF ALL: WORD HARD!!

soon after the screen turns off, a couple of seconds go by and the room lights flash back on, you hiss as you cover your eyes so you don't get flash-banged for the fifteenth time. eyes still covered, you hear a door open and footsteps walk towards you.

uncovering your eyes, you look towards the floor to adjust to the bright white lighting. "so sorry, just give me a second!" you nervously chuckle. "don't worry, take your time!" the voice says politely.

wait, that voice.

It's the man you saw yesterday! Your hand soon uncovers your eyes and you look up. "It's you-" eyes shooting wide, your hand flings towards your mouth.

Red Riot?

"ah, guilty as charged! Happy to see me and not some creep aren't ya? You really need to have a better guard, I could've just been anybody!" he laughs. A frown soon shows on your face, "so you were the guy at the ramen restaurant? Why the hell was you there?" you growl. The pro-hero frowns playfully at your attitude.

"tone, little miss! that isn't a way to talk to your new boss. you know, I thought we let in a complete stranger for a second! you look so different when your face isn't soaked with tears and runny mascara." he jabs at you with a mischievous grin which makes you roll your eyes.

"Whatever. And Boss? Dynamight's my boss!" you argue. Red Riot rolls his eyes at your words, "Last time I checked, my name is out on that building and in that shitty little video you just watched." He says, somehow sounding so polite cursing at you. "And you're gonna wish you worked for me and instead of him by the end of the day"

looking at him, your frown never left your lips, "can we start now?" you say.

"Sure! right this way!" he says, walking away from you, you hurriedly grab your bags and walk alongside him. before you could reach the door the hero turns and blocks your way from seeing the other side.

"Also, uh...wear all black next time." he says, his eyes travel down your figure, and you bite your lips in embarrassment. "why?" you ask. "Because it is a thing we do here, we want everyone to be seen as equals to us, we are all people here at the end of the day, hence we all wear the same thing. Plus, it's because we say so and it looks cool." he chuckles to himself at his last words, turning around he walks away.

As you walked into the office setting, you couldn't help but feel a sense of shock and disbelief. Everywhere you looked, it seemed like the people around you were robots going about their tasks with mechanical precision. Everyone wore the same drab black outfits, and you couldn't help but wonder if it was some kind of strange joke.

The more you walked, you could feel the eyes of the other employees snapping toward you, their stifled chuckles and whispers following you with every step. It was as if they were all in on some kind of inside joke, and you couldn't help but feel like an outsider in this strange, black-button-down world.

As Red Riot led you around the office, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe wash over you. Here you were, walking alongside one of the most legendary heroes of all time. It was hard to believe that this was actually happening - that you were standing in the same room as Red Riot himself. Despite your nerves, you couldn't stop smiling as you walked, eagerly listening to every word that he had to say. It was as if you were soaking up every moment of this incredible experience, committing it all to memory so that you could remember it forever. As you continued to explore the office, you knew that this was a moment that you would never forget.

"And here's our final stop! The boss's office, the one and only Dynamight's quarters" he says. "you'll be in and out of here often, so get ready for that," he chuckles. you quickly nod at his words, "before I let you in this room, do you have any questions?" he asks. you shake your head no, licking your lips you look forward at the doors. The golden plate shined brightly as it read his name:

PRO-HERO DYNAMIGHT: かつきばくご

"Alright then!" soon, the hero bangs on the door. "see you around, fresh meat! by the way, cute sticker" he laughs, walking away from you. You were left standing in shock, did he just leave you here all alone?

"Come in," you hear a voice say. eyes snapping towards the door. You let out a shaky breath. Grabbing the door handle you slowly twist. "don't be a pussy y/n, you wanted this!" you whisper to yourself. Pushing the door open, words couldn't express the emotions you felt at this moment. Looking at your one and only inspiration in front of you, in all his glory.

Dynamight!

The sun was rising outside, casting a golden light over the room and illuminating the blond hair of the number one hero. As he looked into your eyes, you couldn't help but notice the way that his amber irises seemed to glow in the light. It was as if he was lit from within, radiating power and confidence. You took a quick glance at his attire and noticed that he was wearing a simple black shirt and matching sweatpants. It wasn't exactly business casual, but who were you to judge? This man was the number one hero, after all. He could walk in wearing a clown suit and you wouldn't bat an eyelash.

"You're the new hire? Right?" he says, his voice deep and captivating, way calmer than what you've seen on tv as it is early in the morning. You nod your head, the hero guides his hand towards the open seat in front of his desk, you follow and sit in the comfortable leather chair.

"Yes, my name is L/n Y/n!" you spoke softly, "I know." He spits back, you blame it on the early mornings. "Here are some ground rules we need to set in place, firstly..."

As he continued to speak, you found yourself hanging on his every word, completely swept up in his presence. It was almost surreal to be sitting across from the pro-hero, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and disbelief. You quickly pinched your thigh, just to make sure you weren't dreaming.

As you looked at Dynamight, you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach. Seeing him in person was a completely different experience altogether - and you couldn't help but think that he was even more attractive up close. Maybe it was the fact that he was being so soft-spoken with you at the moment. How many people had actually seen him like this before? You couldn't help but wonder if this was a rare occurrence, and you silently thanked the heavens and the stars above that you were one of the few lucky ones to witness it.

The way his muscles flex as he holds your résumé–

Wait, how did he get your résumé?

“Excuse me?” You chime in, the pro-hero hangs his head low for a moment. Lifting his head up, he lets out a sigh, “I don’t like to be interrupted…" he looks down at your name tag for a mere moment, "l/n” he says. “I’m sorry I just have a question,” you state.

“Shoot,” he says, sarcasm oozing from his tone.

“How exactly did you get my résumé?” You asked, “What? Did you think we weren’t going to do a background check on you? You could be some psychotic fan for all I fuckin’ know,” he says, the morning rasp in his tone sends you ablaze as heat rises to your face.

“Oh! Right, well I’m not so,” you awkwardly chuckled. “Yeah I know, you’ve gotta…pretty good lookin’ résumé here,” the hero flips through a couple of pages, confirming his words.

You couldn’t believe it, the Dynamight called you qualified for the job! “Thank you so much! It means a lot to me that–“

“Okay listen, l/n, it’s early in the morning, and me and my partner just came back abroad from a goddamn mission. So imagine how I feel sitting here at this desk talkin’ to you and filling out these papers instead of in my bed sound fuckin’ asleep. I’m gonna need you to tone it down alright?” He says, his tone raises as he grows irritated at your chipper attitude.

Blinking you bow in your seat, “I’m sorry Mr. Dynamight!” You spoke softly. “Don’t call me that, please just…don’t.” The hero rises from his seat and walks towards the door, you quickly stand up and follow suit.

“What should I call you then?” You spoke, his back facing towards you, the man let out a deep sigh, his palm cradling his neck. Rubbing the sensitive spot as he quietly hisses in pain.

“Just call me Dynamight, I don’t need people to go around calling you a lost puppy looking for their owner with the damn honorifics,” he says.

A brief moment of silence enveloped the large office, as the sound of the ticking clock grew increasingly louder with each passing second. Suddenly, Dynamight broke the stillness with a deep, audible sigh, turning to face you with a look of slight exasperation on his face. It was clear that he had a lot on his mind and a lot to worry about. And it seems like you're not making it any easier.

“When you came up here to this room, I hope you noticed why everyone was laughing at you. I want you to take what you went through into deep analysis…l/n.” He says, tone sharp and crude as his eyes bore into your being.

“Why’d you sit in that waiting room with only one fuckin’ chair? Eh?” He says, a hint of humor in his tone. Your frown at him, looking down you try to really think back as to what happened.

“I’m sorry, Dynamight—I’m not sure.” You spoke, this makes the hero frown. “The reason why—is because every secretary that has worked for me, has quit.”

oh.

Swallowing your spit, you nod understanding the real reasoning behind the dirty looks and laughs. “Every single secretary that has been under me quits in no less than three months you wanna know why? Because of me.” He says as a sinister smile tugs at his lips, almost as if he’s proud of it.

“Well…how do you know that I’m not different?” You mumbled. The hero lets out a chuckle, because—I got a feeling you won’t last a month. You can prance around here with your happy attitude and white button-down, but I and you both know that you’re supposed to wear black.”

Why the hell does wearing black matter so much here?!

“So you’ve already defied me once, you get three strikes, no if, and's, or but's about it. And we both know what happens when you get to strike three,” he says smugly. “Don’t we?” He asks. Frowning, you hung your head low to avoid his fiery gaze.

“Yes…Dynamight, we do.”

You couldn't deny the fact that you were a little bit scared about what the future held for you here. But at the same time, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation as you walked through the office. You were determined to make the best of this opportunity, even if it meant dealing with a difficult boss or two. After all, you were ready to face any challenge that came your way, as long as it meant being able to take this incredible opportunity.

“Good,” he says, his smile drops and he soon opens the door, letting it slam onto the wall. This makes you jump, you quickly gather your things and follow behind.

You watch as all the employees ride from their seats and greet the hero. But he doesn’t give as much as a mumble back in reply.

“You’re going to be following me around for the day, can you do that task?” He asks, you nod and speak, “Yes, Dynamight I can.”

You were happy to be alongside the hero, he was your inspiration, your happiness, your sadness, but little did you know from now on.

You’d hate his guts.

HEY GUYS! Honestly did not expect for this to blow up, thanks so much for the kind words! ALREADY CLOSE TO 600 FOLLOWERS? It’s literally been two days you guys are crazy!! I wanted to make sure that I got this done by today, even though this literally took me forever to complete.

I have so much on the way, trying out a different format for my theme. Hope you guys take notice in it. Till then!

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐢𝐝𝐚 ❤︎︎

❥ : @skeletonblush @smolbeanzzz @gold24fish @stablecreator93 @itgetzweird08 @xo-evangeline @akqsa-xxi @gaby-11 @suchagoodgirlxoxo @r-ans @hunny-hotline @superkittywonderland @jolynegf @sad0nion @nar00 @gingerbread-ginza @noxva08 @xaslieex

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nanaminokanojo · 2 months ago

Text

BAD NEWS (part 78)

-just when you thought you were over your humongous crush on your older brother’s best friend, geto suguru, you couldn’t have been more dead wrong, except satoru doesn’t like suguru for you because he knows his kind all too well: a huge ass playboy who breaks hearts like he changes socks. but you think, MAYBE you’ll be the exception…maybe not.

CHARACTERS: drummer!geto suguru x you/afab reader x guitarist!sukuna | gojo satoru | various jjk characters

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 78 next>>

A/N: Prose after the 3rd panel + panels between texts.

The air was electric in the stadium, the roar of the crowd a constant backdrop to the intense battle unfolding on the pitch. The scoreboard read 1:1, and the tension was palpable as the clock ticked down in the second half of the women's intercollegiate nationals. Suguru sat in the stands, a little closer than usual, his heart in his throat, eyes fixed on the field, where the Shiga Pirates, your team, were locked in a fierce struggle with the Fukuoka Warriors.

Suguru had come to the match as a surprise, unable to resist after you dominated the semifinals with the most points as an individual player. But that was just an excuse. He missed you, and he just wanted to see you regardless of the results. He’ll always be proud of you, but now, as he watched you, his admiration was tinged with something deeper, something he kept hidden even from himself most days. You were his kitten, a private term of endearment that held more meaning than he’d ever dare to admit. And now, watching you struggle, his protective side surged towards the surface, wishing he could at least give you a pat on the back if that would encourage you.

"L/N Y/N is having a tough time out there today," the commentator's voice crackled over the loudspeakers, his tone tinged with both admiration and concern. "She’s been a key player for the Pirates all season, racking up an impressive eighteen goals and twelve assists, making her the leading scorer in the league.”

Suguru’s jaw tightened as he watched you, clad in the Pirates' signature red and white kit, sprint down the left wing. Your usual speed seemed hampered, each stride a little heavier than the last. The turf, slick from a light drizzle earlier in the match, wasn’t helping. You were known for your agility, the way you could cut through defenders with a single touch, but today, the conditions seemed to be working against you.

“She can usually find the net anywhere on the pitch,” another commentator said. “We’ve seen her impressive footwork during their match with the Shizuoka Lions yesterday, single-handedly turning the game around with a stunning hat-trick.”

“But today, she’s facing a different challenge; Fukuoka’s defense has been relentless, particularly with their ace, Nakamura Rei, shadowing her every move."

"Come on, Y/N," Suguru muttered under his breath, leaning forward, his fingers weaving tight amongst each other. He could see the determination etched on your face, the way your brows knit together in concentration. You were fighting for every inch, but the Fukuoka ace was right on your heels, matching you step for step. She had clearly studied your playstyle, anticipating your moves, cutting off angles, and forcing you into uncomfortable positions.

"L/N tries to push forward, but Nakamura is there again, cutting off her advance," the commentator continued. "The Pirates' star forward is struggling to find her rhythm. She’s been a constant threat throughout the tournament, but today, Fukuoka has managed to neutralize her impact."

Suguru’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched you attempt another break. You received a sharp pass from your midfielder, Hasaba Mimiko, expertly controlling the ball with your first touch, but as you turned to face Nakamura, you hesitated, just for a split second. It was enough for the Fukuoka defender to close the gap, forcing you to play the ball back instead of driving forward.

"Damn it," Suguru whispered, frustration gnawing at him. He knew how much this match meant to you, how hard you had trained, how you had visualized every possible scenario. He could see the tension in your movements, the way your shoulders tensed when Nakamura got too close, the quick glance you shot toward your teammates, searching for an opening that never seemed to come.

"L/N’s been isolated up top," the commentator observed, echoing Suguru’s thoughts. "She’s not getting the support she needs, and Nakamura is taking full advantage. The Pirates are going to have to figure something out if they want to get her more involved in the attack."

Suguru’s eyes never left you as you tracked back, helping out on defense. You were clearly frustrated, your usual fluidity replaced by a grittier, more desperate style of play. Every time you touched the ball, Nakamura was there, pressing, harrying, forcing you to rush your passes or make decisions under duress.

"The Warriors are doing a fantastic job of closing down the space around L/N," the commentator noted. "She’s used to having room to operate, to dictate the tempo, but today, she’s constantly under pressure. You have to wonder if fatigue is starting to play a role here."

That’s ridiculous. Suguru knew that it was more than just fatigue, seeing the weight of expectation bearing down on you, the pressure of leading your team in the biggest match of the season. But he also knew your resolve, the way you thrived under pressure, how you found stability in moments of adversity. You were not a Gojo for nothing, and he knew you were going to bounce back as he watched you shake your head, almost as if to clear it, before positioning yourself for the next play.

"You got this, kitten. Show ‘em," Suguru whispered again, this time with a note of encouragement. He knew you weren’t the type to back down, even when things weren’t going your way. The score was tied, the clock was ticking, and the Warriors were gaining momentum, but he believed in you. He knew that if anyone could break the deadlock, it was you.

As the ball came your way again, he held his breath. This was it. This was the moment where you could turn the tide, where all your hours of practice, all your sweat and determination, would come to fruition. And it will be then that you will get the recognition you so deserved. The crowd’s noise faded into the background, and all that mattered was you and the ball at your feet.

"Make it count," Suguru thought, his eyes locked on you, willing you to find that spark, that brilliance that had brought you this far as you squared up against Nakamura again.

The match was a grind, the kind that pushed you beyond your limits and into a sweat and adrenaline fueled blur. The scoreboard held steady at 2:2, the minutes ticking down as exhaustion weighed on your limbs. Your lungs burned, and your legs felt like they were made of lead, but you refused to let up. Still, you knew you had one last play in you. You owed it to your team, all of them relentless, pressing forward with everything they had, creating just enough of a gap for you to finally shake off Nakamura’s tenacious defense. You knew with every fiber of your being just what you’re expected to do.

The ball was crossed into the box, a perfectly timed pass from the right wing. Time seemed to slow as you gauged the angle, calculating the distance between you and the goal. Instinct took over as you launched yourself into the air without hesitation, your body twisting as you extended your leg for the shot. Your timing was impeccable, your foot meeting the ball with a solid, decisive strike. You felt the impact resonate through your entire body, a shockwave of power taking over as you and your team held your breaths along with the whole stadium. A blur of black and white zoomed past the goal post as the ball sailed toward the upper corner of the net.

In that split second before you landed back on the turf, your eyes flicked to the stands, and there he was—Suguru. He stood out in the crowd, looking dapper in a black, tight-fitting shirt that hugged his broad frame, he might as well be the only one standing there. His raven hair pulled back into that usual half-up, smiling gorgeously and proudly at you, his expression somehow warm despite the aviator sunglasses shielding his eyes. But you knew his gaze was locked on you, as it always seemed to be.

In a moment of elation, the world around you blurred, leaving only the sight of Suguru, and you wondered, heart skipping a beat, what he was doing there. It can’t be, you thought for a split second, wondering why on earth he was there. You didn’t know if you were really seeing him, or if the adrenaline was playing tricks on you.

But then the ball hit the back of the net with a satisfying thud and the reality of the goal you’d just scored hit. The stadium erupted into a deafening roar, the colors of your team creating an undulating wave across the stands. The ball had soared past the goalkeeper’s outstretched hands and into the net with a satisfying swish.

Your teammates swarmed around you, their cheers almost drowning out the sound of the crowd. But even as they lifted you in celebration, your gaze remained fixed on Suguru.

“You’re here!” you called out although you knew he couldn’t hear you, but he was immediately able to tell what you were saying and nodded. It was really him. He was there. He watched you win.

Grinning despite your precarious balance on your teammates’ shoulders, you tugged off one of your cleats—the ones he had given you, your good luck charm—and waved it at him, a playful gesture that was your way of sharing the victory with him. He tilted his head slightly, his smile widening as he raised his fist to you. And as your team carried you off the field, you felt a surge of satisfaction, knowing that in that most critical moment, both Suguru and the cleats had been with you.

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accio-victuuri · 11 months ago

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from this article by China Daily about Xiao Zhan’s drama WDB. 🤍

TV series taps into nostalgia of bygone era and the sense of optimism that captivated China's youth in 30 years.

As winter descends, the frozen Shichahai ice rink becomes a stage for young individuals gliding carefree across its surface. The profound contrast between the frigid ice and the passionate fervor of the young skaters creates a captivating tableau.

The youthfulness of this cohort finds its genesis in Shichahai, where their emotions and destinies will become intricately woven together. Over the next three decades, their fates will undergo a continuous metamorphosis, mirroring the relentless changing of the times.

This is the narrative that unfolds in the domestically produced drama The Youth Memories, a 38-episode television series that was broadcast on both China Central Television and Tencent Video this year.

Directed by Fu Ning and starring Xiao Zhan, Li Qin, Liu Ruilin, Cao Feiran, Zhao Xin and Cui Hang, the drama is set in Beijing in the 1970s and tells the story of a group of young people who grow up, pursue their dreams, and struggle during the early period of reform and opening-up.

This series has captivated attention since its casting and production to its on-air debut. The conscientious craftsmanship of the production team, evident in details like costumes and props, coupled with the dedicated performances of the group of young actors, has resulted in the show achieving both impressive viewership ratings and positive acclaim.

Yang Chenghu, a professor from Beijing Normal University, comments that the series not only provides a snapshot of a bygone era, but also preserves a love story etched deep within the memories of an older generation.

Through its vibrant portrayal of ambitious and dynamic young characters, it gives play to the anthem of youth, conveying profound reflections on the spirit of the times and the essence of life, Yang says.

Zhou Xiaoxiao, chief editor of the drama, says her goal is for the show to resonate with the memories of older generations, while simultaneously helping the younger generation comprehend an era where warmth and challenges coexisted.

"This isn't a documentary series, so it's impractical to comprehensively delve into every historical nuance. Nevertheless, the destinies and fluctuations of the characters undoubtedly stand as the era's most compelling testimony," she says.

"The Youth Memories serves as a poignant bridge in this regard. The personal growth that Xiao Chunsheng and his cohort of young individuals undergo throughout their journey resonates with the evolving times, encapsulating a condensed path of life."

Director Fu Ning has crafted numerous TV series that unfold in the heart of Beijing. Raised in the Beijing hutong, Fu maintained a profound connection to the core narrative and the atmospheric backdrop of the depicted era in this drama.

With a stringent approach, he ensured authenticity in shaping the essence of the story and the period ambiance, striving to present a genuine portrayal of 1970s Beijing through his lens.

Yang Xiaopei, general producer of the TV series, has served as the executive producer for several renowned dramas including Legend of Fuyao, Ancient Love Poetry and Who Rules The World. The Youth Memories marks her debut in the realm of realistic historical dramas.

According to Yang Xiaopei, this drama delves into discussions on themes such as love, friendship, dreams and faith through a youthful lens, with its creative exploration that touches upon every facet of characters' lives.

"I think the drama has the capacity to resonate with audiences across different age groups," Yang Xiaopei says.

As per Yang Xiaopei's explanation, the crew meticulously studied the daily habits of individuals living in Beijing during that period to capture authentic details in props, including practices like winter cabbage storage, burning coal balls, and the presence of street vendors selling sugarcoated hawthorn.

In terms of costume design, items like batwing sleeves, bell-bottom pants, scarves and headbands authentically recreate the ambiance of that era.

To recreate the Shichahai ice rink of the 1970s, the team crafted detailed blueprints, and ultimately enclosed an area exceeding 10,000 square meters.

Yang Xiaopei highlights the involvement of over 100 members from skating clubs who served as extras. As the machines operated, they glided naturally, infusing the entire scene with a profound sense of authenticity.

This was not just a leisurely pursuit or hobby but a genuine reflection of the lifestyle of Beijing residents during that era, she says.

Young actors' ambitions

The series unfolds over a span of 30 years, requiring each key actor to navigate three decades of character development. The main cast delivers a compelling performance that leaves the audience thoroughly satisfied.

During casting, Yang Xiaopei emphasized her willingness to provide opportunities for young actors, but she steadfastly avoided relying solely on popularity. She placed greater importance on the suitability of the role and the actor's genuine passion for the character.

Xiao Chunsheng's character is played by actor Xiao Zhan. Yang believes that Xiao Zhan shares commonalities with the role in both image and character.

"They both exude optimism, sincerity, uprightness and the courage to confront challenges. When combined with Xiao Zhan's profound understanding and portrayal of the character, he can be deemed the ideal choice to bring Xiao Chunsheng to life," Yang Xiaopei says.

"The integrity, kindness and sense of justice that define Xiao Chunsheng harmonize seamlessly with Xiao Zhan's simplicity and sincerity. Moreover, in terms of appearance, Xiao Zhan's stature and posture perfectly suit the role," Yang Xiaopei comments, adding that Xiao Zhan even sought out a teacher to learn the Beijing dialect.

Zhou acknowledges the outstanding performances delivered by the entire main cast. "Li Qin's portrayal of Tong Xiaomei also stands out. She is an exceptionally thoughtful actor, meticulously considering whether each plot point aligns with Tong's character, and whether it is within her capabilities to portray them." Zhou says.

"Of course, this extends to Liu Ruilin, Cao Feiran and the other young actors who, to my pleasant surprise, shone brightly. Everyone surpassed expectations, delivering performances that were truly exceptional."

Cao, 28, portrays the character of He Hongling, who shares numerous emotional scenes with Xiao Chunsheng in the drama.

Reflecting on the filming experience, Cao mentions that Xiao Zhan, with his extensive acting background, often provided valuable assistance on set. "If I did something well, he would point it out, enhancing my confidence in the process of shaping the character," she notes.

As both Cao and Xiao Zhan fully embraced their respective roles, spontaneous dialogue between them became a common occurrence on set.

Cao perceives He as a radiant, goal-driven individual with ambitions. However, influenced by her family background and the era's milieu, He is also a complex, self-interested individual living in the present, Cao adds.

In preparation for her role, Cao learned the violin and how to ice skate before joining the production. Additionally, she sought insights into the emotional experiences of individuals from that era by consulting her parents. "My parents mentioned that emotions during that time were relatively straightforward and pure."

Cui Hang, 34, delivers a compelling performance as Chen Hongjun, the close companion of Xiao Chunsheng. Successfully overcoming the challenges of the college entrance exams, Chen gains admission to university, and eventually becomes ensnared in the tumultuous currents of power, while ultimately landing in prison.

Before delving into this role, Cui took the time to thoroughly understand the character, charting the logical progression of changes in Chen's journey.

Throughout the series, Chen's glasses change three times, with each pair symbolizing a significant shift in identity, status and mindset.

From glasses mended with tape, to the pair gifted by Ye Fang so he could focus on preparing for the college entrance exams, to the gold-rimmed glasses worn after ascending in rank. Cui explains that the prop was chosen to signify changes in his character's social standing and mindset.

In the final office scene, Cui devised a meaningful gesture. He meticulously straightens the national emblem on his cap, wipes it clean, and then places the hat on the table, simultaneously removing his glasses.

"This is a farewell to his mistakes of the past," Cui explains.

Spanning 30 years, Chen's narrative presented a unique challenge for Cui, marking his first portrayal of a character with such a broad age range. Despite the inherent challenges, Cui found the experience immensely gratifying.

"The set design instantly transported us to an era half a century ago as soon as we arrived. The props, hats, scarves — everything belonged to that specific period. As actors, it was effortless to immerse ourselves in our roles," Cui says.

In the series, the character of Ye, Chen's wife in the drama, is brought to life by Beijing native Zhao Xin, who was profoundly captivated by Ye's personality when delving into the character's background.

"I find this girl incredibly intriguing. In that era, how could there be such an intelligent and clearheaded young lady? She is remarkably perceptive and forthright," Zhao says.

Ye earned the endearing nickname "prophet" from the audience, due to the character's accurate prediction of the reinstatement of the college entrance exam. Zhao believes that Ye's popularity is attributed to the fact that contemporary young women exhibit a strong sense of independence, and they can connect with Ye on a personal level.

"I've learned valuable lessons from the character. She possesses a profound pursuit of ideals and approaches situations with a highly rational mindset," she says.

#xiao zhan #where dreams begin #xiao chunsheng

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atriza · 2 months ago

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The Point of No Return pt.11

Yandere Five Hargreeves x Reader

Part 10

Summary: Y/N continues to endure Five's relentless domination. He tests their submission with increasingly dehumanizing demands, pushing them to the point where they have nothing left but obedience. One night, Five summons them to the living room, expressing his need to know that they are completely his. Y/N, having lost their sense of self entirely, submits to this final request, realizing that they have passed the point of no return. Their identity has been stripped away, replaced by total submission to Five.

Word Count: 564 words

**Content Warning:**

This story contains dark and potentially distressing themes, including obsessive behavior, violence, manipulation, and psychological distress. It portrays a relationship that is unhealthy and toxic, where one character exhibits controlling and possessive tendencies that lead to extreme actions.

If you are sensitive to these themes or find them triggering, please consider skipping this story.

Have Fun Reading!

The days had blurred into one another, each filled with the routine of obedience and submission that Five had imposed upon you. The house had become a prison where freedom was a distant memory, replaced by the relentless demands end harsh discipline of your captor.

Tonight was different. Five had given you a specific command—to wait for him by the door of his study. As you knelt on the cold, hard floor, every muscle in your body ached with the Strain of maintaining this position. The silence of the house was oppressive, broken only by the distant hum of the heating system. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, steeling yourself for whatever was to come.

The door to the study creaked open, and Five emerged, his presence as commanding as ever. He had changed into more casual clothes, but his demeanor was anything but relaxed. His eyes locked anto you with a mixture of satisfaction and cold determination. He approached with deliberate steps, his gaze never leaving you.

“Stand up,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

You complied immediately, rising with a fluid motion. Five's eyes roamed over you, taking in every detail of your compliance. There was a hard edge to his gaze, a glint of something dark and possessive.

“Follaw me," he commanded.

You trailed behind him as he led you to the living room. The atmosphere was tense, charged with an unspoken intensity, Five gestured for you to sit on the cauch, and you obeyed, taking your place with a resigned grace. He sat down next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body, but not so close that you could mistake his intentions.

“I've been thinking,” he began, his voice smooth but laced with a dangerous undertone. “You've shown remarkable obedience. But there are still some things | need to be certain of”

He reached out, his hand resting postessively on your thigh. His touch was both intimate and commanding, a reminder of the control he held over you. You looked down, feeling the weight of his expectations pressing down on you.

“What do you need?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Five's eyes narrowed ae he cansidered you. “I need to know that you are completely mine. That thare is nothing left of the person you once were. | want to see how far you're willing to go."

The implications of his words were clear. He wanted to test your limits, to push you beyond the boundaries of what you had already endured. The fear and apprehension you falt were almost overwhelming, but you had {earned to suppres them, to bury them deep within yourself. You had no choice but to comply.

Five's hand moved from your thigh to your shoulders, his grip firm as he guided you to stand up. “Come with me" he said, leading you to a different part of the house.

The destination was a small, dimly fit room that you had rarely seen. It was furnished simply, with only a few pieces of furniture and a small, uncomfortable-looking chair. Five gestured for you to sit in the chair, and you did so without hesitation.

“I want you to remain here,” he said, his ‘tone broking no argument. “And | want you to think about what you've done.”

You nodded, accepting his command. As he turned to Jeave, he paused at the door, casting one last look at you. His expression was one of cold satisfaction, a hint of something darker lurking beneath the surface.

The room was silent except for the occasional creak of the house settling. You sat there, alone with your thoughts, ‘the weight of Five's expectations heavy on your shoulders. The time stretched endlessly, each moment a reminder of your complete lack of cantral.

Finally, Five returned, his demeanar as commanding as ever. He carried a small box with him, setting it dawn on a nearby table. As he approached you, he held up a simple but elegant ring-a symbol of ownership, a token of the finality of his control.

“This” he said, holding the ring up for you to see, “is a symbol of your submission. | want you to wear it as a mark of your obedience.”

You stared at the ring, a sense of dread settling over you. The thought of wearing it, of marking yourself as his possession in such a permanent way, was almost 100 much to bear, But you knew that resistance was futile. You had already given up 50 much, and this was simply another step in the process.

Five held out his hand, his gaze unwavering. "Put it on”

With trembling fingers, you took the ring and slid it onto your finger. The metal felt cold and heavy, a stark reminder of the control he held over yau. Ag you finished, Five's eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction.

“Good; he said. “You've proven your submission. But we're not finished yet.”

He moved closer, his hand resting on your chin as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes were intense, filled with a mixture of possessiveness and something darker~an almost predatory gleam.

“I need to be sure that you are completely mine” he said softly. “That ‘there is no part of you left that isn’t under my control,”

The implication of his words was clear. He wanted to test you further, to push you beyond the limits of what you had already endured. The thought of what he might ask of you was almost too much to bear, but you had no choice but to camply.

Five's hand slipped from your chin ta your shoulder, his touch both firm and possessive. "Come," he said, guiding you toward the door, “There's one more thing we need to do.”

You follawed him, your mind racing with a mixture of fear and resignation. He led you to a small room that you had never seen before a private chamber that seemed to exist solely for the purpose of exerting his control over you.

Inside the room was a bed, its stark simplicity a reminder of the pawer dynamic at play. Five gestured far you to sit on the edge of the bed, and you did e0, your heart paunding with a mixture of dread and anticipation.

He approached you slowly, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that was almost overwhelming. His movements were deliberate, each step calculated to maintain the dominance he had established.

“| want you to understand,’ he said softly, “that this is about more than just obedience. It’s about complete and utter submission. | need to know that there 1 nothing left of the person you once were.”

As he spoke, he began to undress, hig movements smooth and controlled. The sight of him preparing for what was to come only heightened your sense of vulnerability, You knew that you had no. choice but to comply, to submit fully to his demands.

When he was finally ready, he approached you, his touch bath ‘commanding and intimate. The act thet followed was a culmination of everything you had endured, a final test of your submission. As you surrendered to his control, you felt the last remnants of your resistance slip away, replaced by a sense of resignation and acceptance,

Afterward, as you lay beside him, exhausted and empty, Five's demeanor softened slightly. He reached out, pulling you close, his touch surprisingly tender.

"You've done well,” he said softly. "You've proven your submission. But there's one final step."

He pulled away slightly, his gaze intense. “I want you to marry me.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, a final, erushing demand that left you reeling. The idea of binding yourself to him in such a permanent way was almost too much to bear, But deep down, you knew that resisting was no longer an option.

Five's eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of anticipation and something darker. He wanted you to say yes, to agree to his final demand and complete your transformation into his possession.

You took a deep breath, your mind racing. You had already given up so much, but this was different. It was a final, irrevocable step, a binding commitment that would seal your fate forever.

With a heavy heart, you nodded, accepting the reality of your situation. ‘The person you once were was gone, replaced by a shell of submission and obedience. As Five's satisfied smile grew, you knew that there was ao tuming back, You had reached the point of no return, and the future that lay ahead was one of complete and utter ‘surrender.

In the quiet aftermath, as you lay beside him, the weight of his final demand hung heavily in the air. The person you had once been was a distant memory, replaced by a reality of complete submission and control. And as Five's contented breathing filled the room, you understood that the final act of your surrender had been completed

#five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves #number five #the umbrella academy #yandere #yandere five hargreeves #yandere stories #yandere umbrella academy #brellies #five umbrella academy

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star-wars-writing · 10 months ago

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A/N Just posted my latest story "A Bookstore Romance" on AO3! It's a tale of love, misunderstanding, and the beautiful journey of a relationship that starts and blossoms in a bookstore. it was written for the codywanbingo by @codywanbingo

@swfandomevents

The bell over the door chimed, marking the departure of the last customer of the morning, and Obi-Wan Kenobi found himself alone amidst the tranquil haven of his bookstore. He stood behind the counter, his fingers absentmindedly brushing over the cover of a hidden gem among romance novels, a genre he secretly adored yet never openly acknowledged. The warm, filtered sunlight streaming through the windows bathed the room in a cozy glow, highlighting the eclectic array of books that ranged from timeless classics to contemporary bestsellers.

Obi-Wan’s gaze, deep and thoughtful, swept across the store. Each shelf, each book, was a familiar friend, carefully curated and lovingly displayed in this quaint corner of the city that he had made his own. His passion for literature was evident in every carefully arranged display, every thoughtful recommendation he offered to his patrons.

At 30, Obi-Wan carried an air of youthful enthusiasm tempered with the poise of experience. His hair, a rich auburn, was often slightly tousled, as if he’d just run his hands through it while lost in thought. There was an ease about him, a quiet confidence that drew people in, encouraging them to linger in the aisles and lose themselves in the worlds contained within the pages.

As he turned the page of his book, a soft reflection in the glass caught his eye. He observed himself for a moment – not just the owner of a beloved bookstore but a man who still harbored dreams and desires, much like the characters in the stories he cherished.

The door opened, disrupting his solitude. A young couple stepped inside, their laughter echoing softly in the hushed atmosphere. They gravitated towards the travel books, their conversation a murmur of shared excitement and plans. Watching them, Obi-Wan felt a gentle tug in his chest, a reminder of the poignant and powerful tales of love that resonated with him most.

He smiled softly to himself and leaned back against the counter, his eyes drifting back to the novel in his hands. Here, in this little world of his creation, surrounded by tales of adventure, mystery, and love, he found a deep sense of contentment. Yet, in the quiet corners of his heart, the romantic stories whispered to him, kindling a hope that perhaps his own life might yet hold a chapter as yet unwritten.

Outside, the city moved at its relentless pace, but within the walls of the bookstore, time seemed to slow, each moment a page waiting to be turned.

The evening light filtered softly through the windows of the bookstore, casting a serene glow over the quiet interior. In a cozy corner, reserved for study and contemplation, Cody, the eldest of eight brothers, was engrossed in his architectural designs. His younger brother, Rex, sat opposite him, delving into the complexities of political science. This tranquil nook in Obi-Wan’s bookstore had become their refuge, a place away from the lively chaos of a household bustling with six younger siblings.

Cody, with a natural inclination towards leadership and responsibility, exuded a quiet strength that seemed to anchor those around him. His architectural drawings sprawled across the table, a testament to his talent and dedication. Rex, looking up to his elder brother, found in him both inspiration and guidance.

From his position behind the counter, Obi-Wan observed the brothers with a sense of admiration. The golden hue of the setting sun bathed the room, accentuating the rows of books that surrounded the brothers. Obi-Wan was particularly drawn to Cody, not just because of his academic focus, but also due to an unspoken connection he felt whenever their eyes met.

As the last customer departed, Obi-Wan approached the brothers, bearing a tray with three cups of tea, a gesture that had become a familiar ritual. "I thought a little tea might help with the studies," he said, his voice gentle, yet resonating with an underlying warmth.

Cody looked up, his eyes meeting Obi-Wan's. "That's very kind of you, Obi-Wan," he replied, his voice carrying a note of deep appreciation that resonated within Obi-Wan. There was an unspoken understanding in that brief exchange, a connection that lingered in the air.

Rex gratefully accepted the tea, his admiration for Obi-Wan evident. "You know, Obi-Wan, you're like the guardian angel of our study sessions," he joked lightly, eliciting a chuckle from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan smiled, a hint of color rising to his cheeks. "Well, I can't have my favorite architects and political analysts running on empty, can I?" he replied, playfully.

As the evening progressed and the time for closing drew near, Cody and Rex began to pack up their things. "We'll be back tomorrow, Obi-Wan," Cody called out, his voice echoing softly in the now-quiet bookstore.

"I'll be here," Obi-Wan replied, feeling a subtle pang of longing as he watched them leave. The door closed behind them, leaving a silence that felt more profound than before.

In the solitude of his bookstore, Obi-Wan's thoughts lingered on Cody. There was an undeniable pull between them, a burgeoning bond that extended beyond the usual rapport he had with his patrons. He found himself captivated by Cody’s passion for architecture, his dedication to his studies, and the way his presence seemed to fill the room.

Locking the door and dimming the lights, Obi-Wan reflected on the subtle yet significant moments they had shared. He knew such feelings were fraught with complexity, especially given his role as the owner of the bookstore. Yet, as he made his way home, he couldn't help but wonder about the uncharted territory of their growing connection, a story that was yet to unfold.

The next morning arrived with the gentle hum of the city awakening. Obi-Wan, behind the counter of his bookstore, was arranging a new display of classic novels when the familiar chime of the door announced the arrival of his first visitors. He looked up, a smile instinctively forming as he recognized Cody and Rex stepping into the warm, book-filled haven.

Cody's gaze met Obi-Wan's, a flash of unspoken acknowledgment passing between them. There was an ease about Cody, a confidence in his stride that belied his youth. His eyes, bright and attentive, often wandered around the bookstore with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. Today, however, there was a hint of determination in his demeanor, a purpose that seemed to extend beyond his usual academic focus.

"Good morning, Obi-Wan," Cody greeted, his voice carrying a clear note of respect.

"Morning, Cody, Rex," Obi-Wan replied, his attention briefly shifting to Rex before returning to Cody. "What brings you in so early today?"

Cody took a deep breath, his fingers absently tracing the spine of a book on the nearest shelf. "Actually, I was wondering if... if you might need some help around the store. I'm looking for a job, and I can't think of a better place than here."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose slightly, a mixture of surprise and something akin to pleasure flickering in his eyes. "Help in the bookstore?" he echoed, considering the proposal. The idea of having Cody around more often was unexpectedly appealing, yet he hesitated, aware of the delicate balance that existed between them.

"Yes," Cody continued, a hint of eagerness creeping into his voice. "I know my way around the store pretty well by now, and I'd really like to start saving up for the future."

Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on Cody, taking in the earnestness in his expression. There was a sincerity in Cody's request that touched him, and he found himself wanting to say yes, to have Cody's presence become a more permanent fixture in the bookstore.

"Well, I could certainly use the extra hands," Obi-Wan admitted, the corners of his mouth lifting in a gentle smile. "Consider yourself part of the team, Cody."

The relief and joy that lit up Cody's face were unmistakable. "Thank you, Obi-Wan. You won't regret this," he said, his voice tinged with gratitude and excitement.

Rex, who had been quietly observing the exchange, chimed in, "Guess this means I'll be seeing even more of this place, huh?"

Obi-Wan chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm afraid so, Rex. But I promise to keep the coffee coming."

As Cody and Rex settled into their usual study corner, Obi-Wan found his thoughts lingering on the new arrangement. Having Cody as an employee would undoubtedly change the dynamics of their relationship. He felt a twinge of anticipation at the prospect of working alongside Cody, of seeing him every day in a context that went beyond their casual interactions.

Throughout the day, as he attended to customers and went about his tasks, Obi-Wan's mind often drifted to Cody. He watched him from afar, noting the way Cody interacted with the books, the gentle care he showed each volume he touched. There was a grace about him, a quiet strength that Obi-Wan found increasingly compelling.

As the bookstore closed for the day, Obi-Wan found himself looking forward to the following morning, to the new chapter that was about to begin in the story of his bookstore, a chapter that now included Cody not just as a patron, but as a part of its very essence. The prospect filled him with a sense of expectancy, a feeling that something significant was on the horizon.

A month had woven its way through the calendar since Cody began working at the bookstore, each day weaving him more intricately into the fabric of the quaint establishment. On a particularly slow Saturday morning, the store was bathed in the soft, diffused light of an overcast sky, casting a serene tranquility over the shelves brimming with stories.

Cody, who had by now familiarized himself with every nook and cranny of the store, was tidying up a section when he stumbled upon a well-thumbed copy of 'Pride and Prejudice' tucked away behind some newer releases. Curiosity piqued, he glanced over at Obi-Wan, who was engrossed in a book at the counter.

"Didn't take you for a fan of Regency romances," Cody remarked playfully, holding up the novel with an intrigued smile.

Obi-Wan looked up, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "Ah, yes, that's one of my personal favorites," he confessed, his voice tinged with a mix of embarrassment and fondness. "Regency romances were actually my major back in university."

Cody's eyebrows arched in surprise, his smile broadening. "Really? I never would have guessed. You studied literature at the university?"

Obi-Wan nodded, a nostalgic glimmer in his eyes. "Yes, at the same one you're attending. I had a particular affinity for the romanticism and societal intricacies of the Regency period. There’s something about the elegance and the underlying passion of that era that always fascinated me."

Cody, intrigued, moved closer, the book still in hand. "I've always seen these novels as just love stories, but you make them sound like something more."

"There is much more to them," Obi-Wan said, leaning forward, his enthusiasm evident. "They are windows into the customs, the restraints, and the quiet rebellions of the time. The characters navigate through societal norms with such intricate emotions and intentions."

As Obi-Wan spoke, Cody found himself captivated, not just by the insight into the novels, but by the animated way Obi-Wan described them. His eyes sparkled with passion, and his hands moved expressively, painting the air with his words. Cody realized there was a depth to Obi-Wan he had yet to uncover, layers that extended beyond the calm and collected exterior of the bookstore owner.

"Maybe I should give one of these a read," Cody said thoughtfully, flipping through the pages of 'Pride and Prejudice'. "Any recommendations on where to start?"

"Start with that one in your hands," Obi-Wan suggested, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "It's a classic for a reason. And if you have any questions or want to discuss it, I'm more than willing."

The offer, simple as it was, felt like an invitation into a part of Obi-Wan’s world that Cody had not yet explored. It was an opportunity to connect on a level they hadn’t before, a prospect that filled Cody with an unexpected sense of excitement.

The rest of the day passed with a new, subtle energy between them. Cody found himself stealing glances at Obi-Wan, pondering this newfound facet of his character. Obi-Wan, in turn, caught Cody’s gaze several times, each exchange sending a ripple of something unspoken through the air.

As the day drew to a close and the last customer left, Cody lingered at the counter. "I'm looking forward to starting this," he said, holding up the novel. "Thanks for the recommendation, Obi-Wan."

"It was my pleasure, Cody," Obi-Wan replied, his voice warm with sincerity. "Enjoy the journey into Regency England."

With a final smile, Cody tucked the book under his arm and headed out, leaving Obi-Wan in the quiet aftermath. As he locked up the bookstore, Obi-Wan found himself reflecting on the day, on the shared moments and the unexplored paths that lay ahead. His heart felt lighter, buoyed by the prospect of new conversations, new shared experiences with Cody. It was a connection that was slowly, yet undeniably, transforming from mere acquaintance into something much richer, something that hinted at the promise of deeper bonds yet to be formed.

A week had whisked by since Cody borrowed 'Pride and Prejudice' from the bookstore, a week in which the pages of Regency England had unfurled before him. Saturday arrived, bringing with it the familiar rhythm of a workday at the bookstore. Cody stepped through the door that morning with a sense of purpose, the novel tucked securely under his arm.

Obi-Wan, rearranging a display of new arrivals, looked up at Cody's entrance. There was a quiet anticipation in his gaze, a silent inquiry about the novel. The morning sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow that danced over the bookshelves and spilled onto the floor, creating a welcoming ambience.

"I finished it," Cody announced, placing the book on the counter with a thoughtful expression. "And while I can appreciate the charm and the wit of Austen, I think I'm more of a mystery and adventure kind of guy."

Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled with amusement and interest. "Is that so?" he replied, leaning on the counter. "Well, there's no shortage of mystery and adventure here. Any particular favorites or authors you're drawn to?"

Cody’s face lit up with a more animated expression. "I've always been a fan of Arthur Conan Doyle's work. There’s something about Sherlock Holmes' deductive reasoning and the atmospheric London he navigates that I find really engaging."

"Ah, the classic detective and his loyal companion, Watson," Obi-Wan mused, his voice warm with shared enthusiasm. "There's a timeless quality to those stories, a blend of intellect and intrigue that's hard to resist."

The conversation flowed effortlessly between them, the topics meandering from one author to another, from classic literature to contemporary thrillers. As they talked, Cody found himself drawn into Obi-Wan's world of books even more deeply. There was a passion in Obi-Wan's words, a depth of knowledge that was both impressive and endearing.

Obi-Wan, in turn, was captivated by Cody's perspectives, finding joy in the young man's keen insights and the lively spark in his eyes as he spoke. There was a connection forming between them, one that transcended the roles of employer and employee, something more profound and intimate.

As the morning gave way to afternoon, the bookstore filled with customers, but the energy of their conversation lingered in the air. Obi-Wan and Cody worked side by side, their interactions marked by an easy camaraderie and occasional shared glances that spoke volumes.

Later, as the day began to wind down and the last customer left, Cody and Obi-Wan found themselves alone amidst the quiet serenity of the bookstore.

"You know," Cody said, leaning against the counter, "talking about books with you, it's like seeing them in a whole new light. It makes coming to work here even more enjoyable."

Obi-Wan’s face softened with a genuine smile. "I'm glad to hear that, Cody. And I must admit, having you here has brought a new dimension to this place. It's... refreshing."

The words hung in the air, charged with an unspoken emotion, a recognition of the bond that was steadily growing between them. As they locked up the store and said their goodbyes, there was a lingering sense of connection, a promise of more conversations and shared moments to come.

As Cody walked away, book in hand, and Obi-Wan watched him leave, they both felt a quiet anticipation for the next day, for the next chapter in their unfolding story. The bookstore, a haven of stories and dreams, had become the backdrop to their own evolving narrative, one that was just beginning to be written.

***

As the weeks unfurled, the bookstore wove its timeless spell around Cody and Obi-Wan, drawing them into an ever-deepening camaraderie. Cody's presence during the week, a studious figure immersed in his architectural designs, had become a constant in the quiet hum of the store. On weekends, his role shifted to that of Obi-Wan’s assistant, their interactions punctuated by shared tasks and easy conversations that spanned from the philosophical depths of literature to the light-hearted banter of daily life.

The air between them was charged with an unspoken recognition, a realization that what had started as a mere curiosity was blossoming into something richer, more profound. It was in the way Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on Cody a moment longer than necessary, in the warmth that radiated from him whenever Cody entered the room.

One particularly rainy afternoon, as the soft patter of raindrops created a cocoon around the bookstore, Cody and Obi-Wan found themselves alone, organizing a section of historical novels. The rhythmic sound of the rain against the windows lent a cozy intimacy to the store, a world removed from the bustle outside.

Cody, arranging books on a lower shelf, paused and looked up at Obi-Wan. "You know, I never imagined I'd find a place like this," he said, his voice a blend of gratitude and reflection. "Or someone like you. You've made me see books, see the world, in a new light."

Obi-Wan, standing close, books in hand, met Cody's gaze. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a softness that he rarely allowed others to see. "Cody, I..." he began, then hesitated, searching for the right words. "I feel the same. Having you here, it's changed the bookstore for me, made it more... alive."

The words hung in the air, a confession of sorts, and for a moment, they simply looked at each other, the unspoken emotions swirling around them like the gentle storm outside.

Cody broke the silence, a shy smile playing on his lips. "I guess we're both discovering new chapters, aren't we?"

Obi-Wan returned the smile, a warmth spreading through him. "Yes, we are," he agreed, his heart beating a little faster.

Their conversation drifted to other topics, but the underlying current remained, a shared awareness of the growing affection between them. As they continued their work, their movements became more synchronized, a dance of two people becoming increasingly attuned to each other.

The rest of the day passed in a comfortable rhythm, marked by shared laughs, meaningful glances, and an ease that spoke of a deepening bond. When it was time to close, they lingered at the door, neither quite ready to part ways.

"See you tomorrow, Obi-Wan," Cody said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance.

"Tomorrow," Obi-Wan echoed, watching as Cody stepped out into the rain, an umbrella blooming open above him.

As the door closed, Obi-Wan stood there for a moment, lost in thought. The bookstore, once a haven for solitary contemplation, had become the setting of something new and exhilarating – a connection with Cody that promised to turn the page to a new and uncharted chapter in both their lives. The rain continued to tap against the window, a gentle reminder of the world outside, but inside, Obi-Wan's heart was alight with the warmth of possibilities yet to come.

***

Weeks cascaded into months, and the cozy bookstore continued to be a sanctuary of shared glances and unspoken words between Cody and Obi-Wan. The subtle transformation in their relationship was like a quietly unfolding novel, each chapter revealing deeper layers of connection and affection.

During the week, Cody and his brother Rex would frequent the store to study, their heads bent over books and notes. Rex, observant and perceptive, began to notice the nuanced changes in the air whenever Cody and Obi-Wan interacted. It was in the way Cody's eyes would unconsciously seek out Obi-Wan, lighting up when their gazes met. It was in the lingering smiles, the soft timbre of their voices, rich with an undercurrent of something more than just friendship.

One quiet afternoon, as the golden sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the rows of books, Rex watched as Cody and Obi-Wan shared a laugh over a small anecdote Obi-Wan had recounted. The laughter faded, but their smiles remained, a silent acknowledgement of the joy they found in each other’s company.

Rex leaned back in his chair, his book momentarily forgotten. He had seen his brother in various stages of life, but this was different. Cody was smitten, thoroughly and irrevocably, with Obi-Wan. And from what Rex could tell, the feeling was mutual.

Later, as they packed up to leave, Rex decided to broach the subject. "Cody, can I ask you something?" he said, his tone casual but curious.

Cody looked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Sure, what's up?"

"It's about Obi-Wan," Rex started, watching Cody's reaction closely. "I've noticed... well, it seems like there's something more between you two. Am I wrong?"

Cody's face flushed a soft shade of pink, a mix of embarrassment and realization dawning on him. "I... well, I guess it's hard to hide," he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I do like him, Rex. More than I probably should."

Rex nodded, understanding and supportive. "And I think he feels the same, Cody. I've seen the way he looks at you."

Cody’s eyes held a blend of hope and uncertainty. "Do you think so?" he asked, the question laden with the weight of his feelings.

"I do," Rex affirmed, placing a reassuring hand on Cody's shoulder. "Just be careful, okay? I want you to be happy, but I also don't want you to get hurt."

Cody nodded, a silent appreciation in his gaze. "Thanks, Rex. I'll be careful. I promise."

As they stepped out of the bookstore, Rex glanced back at Obi-Wan, who was watching them leave. There was a softness in Obi-Wan's eyes, a look that spoke volumes. Rex felt a sense of reassurance, a belief that whatever was brewing between Cody and Obi-Wan was genuine and profound.

The walk home was filled with contemplative silence, both brothers lost in their thoughts. Cody was grappling with the newfound acknowledgment of his feelings for Obi-Wan, the possibilities and fears it entailed. Rex, on the other hand, was contemplating the changing dynamics, hopeful yet cautious about the future.

The bookstore, a haven of stories and dreams, had unknowingly become the stage for their own evolving story, a narrative rich with emotion and the promise of something beautiful yet to be fully realized.

That night, under the canopy of a starlit sky, Rex found himself wrestling with a turmoil of thoughts. Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling, the shadows cast by the moonlight playing across the room. His mind replayed the conversation with Cody, the admission, the hope in his brother's eyes. Yet, intermingled with these reflections was a growing seed of worry, a concern that gnawed at the edges of his initial support.

Seven years. The age difference between Cody and Obi-Wan lingered in Rex's mind, a stark number that seemed to grow more significant in the quiet of the night. He turned over on his side, a sense of unease settling over him. Had he been too quick to encourage Cody? Was he inadvertently setting his brother up for a fall?

The more Rex thought about it, the more the idea of their relationship began to unsettle him. Obi-Wan, with his quiet charm and mature demeanor, was a world apart from the youthful, spirited Cody. Rex respected Obi-Wan, admired him even, for the sanctuary he had created in the bookstore, for the way he had welcomed them both. But this, this was different.

The clock ticked on, its rhythmic sound a steady reminder of the passing hours. Rex turned again, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He cared deeply for Cody, wanted nothing but happiness for him, but the thought of his brother potentially getting hurt was unbearable.

The thought stayed with Rex, a persistent echo throughout the night. By the time morning arrived, painting the room with the first light of dawn, Rex had made a decision. He couldn't, in good conscience, encourage this relationship. The risk, he felt, was too great.

Breakfast was a quiet affair, Cody lost in his thoughts, likely about Obi-Wan, while Rex grappled with how to voice his concerns. As they prepared to leave for the day, Rex finally spoke up.

"Cody, about yesterday... I've been thinking," he began, his voice hesitant. "Maybe I was too quick to... you know, about you and Obi-Wan."

Cody looked at him, a frown creasing his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he's a great guy, but he's also seven years older than you. That's not a small thing," Rex said, the words difficult but necessary.

Cody's expression shifted, a blend of confusion and hurt flickering in his eyes. "I thought you were okay with it," he replied, a note of defensiveness creeping into his voice.

"I am, or I was," Rex said, struggling to articulate his turmoil. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, Cody. Relationships are complicated, and with the age gap, it's just... I don't know."

The brothers walked in silence, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. Rex's heart was heavy with concern, while Cody’s mind raced with a mix of doubt and disappointment.

As they reached the bookstore, the familiar chime of the doorbell sounded almost melancholic. Rex cast a glance at Cody, who offered a forced smile before heading to his usual spot to study.

Rex watched him go, a knot of worry in his stomach. He hoped he had done the right thing, yet the uncertainty remained, a lingering question mark over the complexities of the heart.

****

The evening found Obi-Wan stepping into a familiar café, a place steeped in nostalgia and echoes of his university days. Here, beneath the warm glow of dimmed lights and the soft murmur of conversations, he was meeting his old friends, Mace, Plo Koon, and Quinlan. They had shared not just a dorm but countless memories during their university years. Now, each had carved their own path, teaching at the university, molding minds in academic halls. Obi-Wan, though, had chosen a different route, one that indulged his love for literature in the quaint confines of his bookstore.

As they settled into a quiet corner, the air was filled with laughter and the easy banter of old friends reuniting. Mace, always the perceptive one, noticed a subtle change in Obi-Wan, a certain preoccupation in his usually serene demeanor.

"Everything alright, Obi-Wan?" Mace inquired, his gaze sharp but concerned.

Obi-Wan hesitated, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. The café, with its soft jazz playing in the background and the gentle clink of cups, suddenly felt too intimate, too revealing. "Actually, there's something I've been meaning to talk about," he began, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

The others leaned in, a silent show of support and curiosity. Plo Koon, with his kindly eyes, gave Obi-Wan an encouraging nod.

"It's about one of your students, Plo," Obi-Wan continued, his eyes meeting Plo's. "Cody, he's been working at my bookstore for a while now, and... well, I think I might have feelings for him."

A hush fell over the group, the revelation hanging in the air. Quinlan raised an eyebrow, a mixture of surprise and intrigue on his face. "Cody? He's a bright kid, top of his class in architecture," he commented.

"I think I have feelings for him. But I haven’t felt this way since... since Satine."

The mention of Satine brought a collective nod of understanding from the group. They remembered all too well the heartbreak Obi-Wan had endured, how Satine, a fellow student back then, had drifted away from him, leaving him with a wound that had taken years to heal.

Mace, leaning forward, placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. "That was a tough time for you, we all know that. But it's been six years, Obi-Wan. You can't let one bad experience dictate your life."

Quinlan, always the more outspoken, chimed in. "Six years isn’t a huge age gap, and from what I've seen of Cody in my classes, he's mature for his age. He’s not Satine, Obi-Wan. You can't project the past onto him."

Plo Koon, his voice gentle and reassuring, added, "It's natural to be cautious, Obi-Wan, but you also deserve happiness. We've all seen bigger age differences work out just fine. The question is, does he make you happy?"

The question lingered in the air, mingling with the soft jazz notes that filled the café. Obi-Wan pondered, his gaze distant. "He does," he admitted, almost in a whisper. "There’s a warmth, a connection I haven’t felt in a long time. I just don’t want to rush into anything."

"Then take it slow," Mace advised, his tone supportive. "Get to know him better outside the bookstore. But don’t let fear hold you back, Obi-Wan. You’ve been guarding your heart for a long time. Maybe it's time to let someone in again."

The conversation gradually shifted to other topics, but the support and understanding from his friends left a profound impact on Obi-Wan. As he left the café that evening, a sense of clarity began to settle in his mind. The night air was crisp and clear, echoing the newfound resolution in his heart.

The walk home was contemplative, Obi-Wan’s thoughts centered on Cody. The idea of exploring this budding relationship, cautiously yet earnestly, felt like a new beginning, a chance to step out of the shadows of the past.

As he unlocked the door to his home, Obi-Wan felt a gentle stirring of hope within him. The memories of Satine would always be a part of him, but now, perhaps, it was time for a new chapter, one where he could explore the possibilities that lay with Cody, a chapter filled with the promise of something genuine and heartfelt. The thought brought a small, hopeful smile to his face as he stepped inside, ready to embrace whatever the future might hold.

****

In the quiet sanctuary of the bookstore, where the stories whispered from aged pages and the subtle scent of books filled the air, a delicate balance had been maintained for months. Obi-Wan and Cody, each moving in their own orbits, had established a dance of friendship and unspoken emotions, a rhythm that had become a comforting part of their daily lives. Yet, beneath the surface of this camaraderie, deeper currents flowed – currents of which Obi-Wan was only half-aware and had convinced himself were one-sided.

Rex, ever observant and protective of his elder brother, had seen the way Cody's eyes would linger on Obi-Wan, the way his laughter seemed brighter, his smiles more frequent whenever Obi-Wan was near. It was clear to Rex that Cody harbored deeper feelings for Obi-Wan, feelings that Obi-Wan, in his cautious restraint, had either missed or chosen to ignore.

One evening, as the bookstore was winding down and the soft glow of the lamps cast a cozy ambiance, Rex approached Obi-Wan at the counter. His usual easygoing demeanor was replaced by a seriousness that immediately drew Obi-Wan's attention.

"Obi-Wan, can we talk?" Rex's voice carried a gravity that signaled the importance of his words.

"Of course, Rex. What's on your mind?" Obi-Wan responded, his expression one of open concern.

Rex took a deep breath, his protective instinct for Cody at the forefront. "It's about Cody," he began, his gaze steady. "I know he's more than just a friend to you, and you to him. But he's my brother, and I've always looked out for him. I've seen how he looks at you, and I'm worried."

Obi-Wan felt a flush of surprise and confusion. "Rex, I assure you, there's nothing inappropriate—"

"I'm not saying there is," Rex interrupted, his tone firm yet measured. "I just want you to be aware of how much influence you have over him. He's younger, and you're his employer. I don't want him getting hurt."

The words hit Obi-Wan like a wave, a mixture of guilt and realization washing over him. He had always prided himself on his integrity, especially regarding Cody. The idea that he might unwittingly be leading Cody on, or worse, taking advantage of his feelings, was deeply unsettling.

"Rex, I... I never intended," Obi-Wan stammered, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. "I've always seen our relationship as purely platonic. If Cody feels otherwise... I had no idea."

Rex nodded, his expression softening slightly. "I know you're a good guy, Obi-Wan. But sometimes, we don't see the whole picture. Just... be careful, okay?"

Obi-Wan nodded silently, his mind reeling from the conversation. As Rex walked away, a heavy silence settled over Obi-Wan. The realization that his feelings for Cody might be mutual, and the implications of acting on them, were suddenly very real and daunting.

The store emptied, leaving Obi-Wan alone with his thoughts. The books, once sources of comfort and escape, now stood as silent witnesses to his internal turmoil. He felt a pang of something akin to shame, mixed with a fear of causing Cody any pain. The possibility of mutual affection, which should have brought joy, now seemed fraught with complexities and moral dilemmas.

Locking up the bookstore that night, Obi-Wan stepped out into the cool air, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. Rex's words echoed in his ears, a reminder of the responsibility he held, not just as Cody's employer but as someone who, despite his denials, might hold a piece of Cody's heart. The walk home was longer than usual, each step heavy with contemplation and a newfound wariness of the path his heart had unwittingly taken.

***

The following Saturday dawned with a sense of foreboding for Obi-Wan. Rex's words from their previous conversation echoed in his mind, a constant, nagging reminder of the complexity and potential consequences of his feelings for Cody. As he prepared the bookstore for the day, each action felt heavier, each decision more consequential. The usual excitement he felt in anticipation of Cody's arrival was now tinged with a sense of trepidation.

When Cody finally stepped through the door, his usual bright smile in place, Obi-Wan felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He greeted Cody with a polite nod and a subdued "good morning," a stark contrast to their usually warm exchanges. Cody, taken aback by the formal greeting, tried to gauge Obi-Wan's mood.

"Everything okay, Obi-Wan?" Cody asked, a hint of concern lacing his voice.

Obi-Wan forced a smile, his heart heavy. "Yes, everything's fine. Just one of those mornings, you know?"

As the day progressed, Obi-Wan found himself consciously maintaining a distance from Cody, his interactions professional and devoid of their usual camaraderie. He avoided lingering conversations, focusing instead on mundane tasks and keeping himself busy with stocking shelves and organizing the back office.

Cody, sensing the change in Obi-Wan's demeanor, couldn't help but feel a sting of hurt. The warm, comfortable atmosphere they had cultivated over the months seemed to have evaporated, leaving a cold void in its place. He found himself glancing at Obi-Wan frequently, trying to understand the sudden shift. Each curt response, each avoided eye contact from Obi-Wan, felt like a small rejection, a denial of the connection he had come to cherish.

The usually lively bookstore felt oppressively quiet to Cody, the silence between them a stark reminder of the intangible barrier that had formed overnight. He tried to focus on his work, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Obi-Wan, to the laughter and conversations that now felt like distant memories.

As the day neared its end, and the sun cast long shadows across the bookstore, Cody approached Obi-Wan at the counter, a sense of resolve in his steps.

"Obi-Wan, if I've done something to upset you, please tell me," Cody said, his voice low and earnest. "I thought we were friends, but it feels like you're avoiding me today."

Obi-Wan hesitated, torn between his own feelings and the responsibility he felt towards Cody. "Cody, you haven't done anything wrong. It's just me... I need to sort out some things. I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable."

Cody searched Obi-Wan's face for clues, for any sign of the warmth he had grown accustomed to. "Okay, if you're sure. Just know that I'm here if you need to talk," he offered, the words spoken with genuine care.

The finality of the day's closing brought a sense of relief to Obi-Wan, yet also a deep-seated regret. As he locked the doors and watched Cody walk away, a part of him yearned to call out, to bridge the gap he had created. But the fear of what might happen, of stepping over a line he wasn't sure existed, held him back.

That night, Obi-Wan lay awake, the events of the day replaying in his mind. The distance he had put between them felt like a necessary precaution, yet it also felt like a loss, a step away from something that might have been beautiful. In his heart, he knew that his feelings for Cody were more than mere friendship, but Rex's words, the potential imbalance of their relationship, loomed large, casting a shadow over any possibility of exploring what those feelings might mean. The quiet loneliness of his room was a stark contrast to the lively, warm presence of Cody, a reminder of the delicate dance of human emotions and the choices that define them.

Cody, feeling a whirlwind of confusion and hurt after the day at the bookstore, knew there was only one person who could provide the clarity he so desperately sought: his grandfather, Jaster. Jaster had always been a pillar of wisdom in Cody's life, offering guidance and understanding in moments of uncertainty.

As Cody drove to his grandfather's house, the familiar route offered little comfort. His mind replayed the day's events, each interaction with Obi-Wan scrutinized, each moment of distance dissected. The more he thought about it, the more bewildered he felt. He had been so sure, so hopeful, about the connection they shared.

Arriving at Jaster's home, a quaint cottage surrounded by a well-tended garden, Cody felt a slight easing of the tension that had built up inside him. Jaster, a robust man in his late seventies with a gentle smile and eyes that sparkled with a mix of mischief and wisdom, greeted Cody warmly.

"Cody, my boy, what brings you here?" Jaster asked, his voice rich with affection as he led Cody into the cozy living room.

Cody took a deep breath, the familiar scents of the house – a blend of old books and a hint of pine – providing a small sense of comfort. "Grandpa, I... I need some advice," he began, hesitantly.

Jaster settled into his favorite armchair, gesturing for Cody to sit across from him. "You know you can tell me anything, Cody."

It took a moment for Cody to find the words, his emotions a tangled web. "It's about Obi-Wan," he said finally, his voice laced with a mix of hope and apprehension. "I think I've fallen for him. More than just a friend. But lately, he's been distant, and I don't understand why. I thought... I thought we had something special."

Jaster listened intently, his expression one of understanding and empathy. "Love can be a tricky thing, Cody. It opens us up in ways we never expect. But tell me, have you shared these feelings with Obi-Wan?"

Cody shook his head, a sense of regret washing over him. "No, I haven't. I was actually working up the courage to ask him out for drinks or something. But now, with the way he's been acting, I'm not sure if he even sees me that way."

Jaster leaned forward, his gaze steady and reassuring. "Cody, sometimes people react out of fear or uncertainty, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. Maybe Obi-Wan is dealing with his own doubts or concerns. The best course might be to talk to him openly about how you feel."

Cody nodded, the wisdom in his grandfather's words resonating within him. "I just don't want to ruin what we already have," he admitted, the fear of rejection clear in his voice.

"Sometimes, taking a risk is the only way to find true happiness," Jaster said gently. "But whatever you decide, know that it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to feel what you're feeling."

The conversation continued, Jaster offering both comfort and counsel, helping Cody navigate the tumultuous waters of his emotions. As Cody left his grandfather's house later that evening, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. The advice to be open and honest with Obi-Wan echoed in his mind, a daunting yet necessary step he knew he had to take.

The drive back was contemplative, Cody's thoughts a mix of apprehension and resolve. The idea of baring his heart to Obi-Wan was frightening, yet the possibility of discovering a mutual affection, of exploring the potential of what they could be, offered a glimmer of hope. He knew the conversation with Obi-Wan wouldn't be easy, but it was a bridge he was now willing to cross, armed with the wisdom and encouragement from the one person who had always guided him through life's complexities.

Cody, carrying the weight of his newfound resolve, sought out Rex the following day. He found his younger brother immersed in his studies at the bookstore, his brow furrowed in concentration. The air was filled with the soft rustle of pages and the distant hum of the city outside – a peaceful backdrop to the tumultuous emotions swirling within Cody.

"Rex, can we talk for a sec?" Cody asked, his voice tinged with both determination and apprehension.

Rex looked up, his expression shifting to one of concern. "Sure, what's up?"

Cody took a deep breath, the words he had rehearsed with his grandfather now sitting on the edge of his tongue. "I've decided to ask Obi-Wan out, after the exams are over. I know you have your doubts, but I feel like this is something I have to do."

Rex's eyes widened slightly, a mix of worry and surprise evident in his gaze. "Cody, are you sure about this? I mean, Obi-Wan's a great guy, but the age difference, and him being your boss..."

Cody nodded, a resolute look in his eyes. "I know, but I can't shake these feelings, Rex. I need to know if there's a chance for something more between us."

Rex sighed, his protective instincts kicking in. "Alright, just... be careful, okay? I don't want to see you get hurt."

Cody offered a small, grateful smile. "I will. Thanks, Rex."

The conversation lingered in Rex's mind as he returned to his studies, a sense of foreboding accompanying his thoughts. He couldn't help but worry about the potential fallout, the complications that could arise from Cody's confession.

Later that day, as Rex was packing up his things, Obi-Wan approached him. "Rex, could you pass a message to Cody for me? I won't be here tomorrow when he's supposed to work. I have to help Quinlan with some exam corrections for his literature courses."

Rex, caught off guard by the request, nodded. "Sure, I'll let him know. Anything else?"

Obi-Wan hesitated, a troubled look crossing his face. "Just... tell him I'm sorry for missing the day. I'll make it up to him."

Rex observed Obi-Wan closely, sensing an undercurrent of something unspoken in his tone. "No problem, Obi-Wan. I'll pass it along."

As Rex left the bookstore, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Obi-Wan's request, innocent as it seemed, felt like another piece in the complex puzzle of emotions and intentions surrounding his brother and the bookstore owner.

The walk home was filled with Rex's internal debate – the desire to protect Cody from potential heartache, the hope that perhaps something beautiful could blossom between him and Obi-Wan, and the fear of being caught in the middle of it all. He knew he would have to tread carefully, to be there for Cody, come what may, while also respecting his brother's decision to follow his heart.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan, left alone in the quiet bookstore, felt a pang of regret at the lie he had told Rex. The truth was, he needed time to think, to process his own feelings for Cody, which he had kept buried beneath a veneer of friendship and professionalism. Helping Quinlan was just a convenient excuse to put some distance between himself and Cody, to avoid facing the reality of what might happen if Cody ever revealed his feelings.

The bookstore closed for the night, and Obi-Wan walked home under a starlit sky, his thoughts a tangled web of fear, longing, and uncertainty. The prospect of Cody asking him out, something he had both yearned for and dreaded, now loomed large in his mind, a decision that could change everything. He knew he would have to face his feelings soon, but for now, the night offered a brief respite, a chance to gather his courage for the days ahead.

Rex walked into the bustling atmosphere of their family home, the sounds of life and laughter echoing through the halls. He found Cody in the kitchen, surrounded by the usual chaos of their younger siblings. The air was thick with the aroma of dinner cooking, and the countertop was cluttered with various ingredients and utensils.

"Cody, got a minute?" Rex asked, motioning for his brother to step aside from the commotion.

Cody wiped his hands on a dish towel and followed Rex to the quieter living room. "What's up?" he asked, noting the serious expression on Rex's face.

Rex hesitated, the weight of his decision pressing heavily on him. He knew what he was about to do might hurt Cody, but he believed it was for the best. "I talked to Obi-Wan at the bookstore today. He asked me to tell you he won't be in tomorrow. Said he's got... a date."

Cody's expression faltered, a visible shadow crossing his face. "A date?" he repeated, the word sounding hollow, distant. A myriad of emotions flickered across his eyes – confusion, hurt, a sense of betrayal.

"Yeah," Rex continued, his voice laced with feigned casualness. "I guess he's seeing someone."

Cody turned away, his gaze falling to the floor. The news felt like a physical blow, a sharp, unexpected pain that cut through the hope he had been nurturing. All the moments he had shared with Obi-Wan, the laughter, the deep conversations, suddenly seemed insignificant, overshadowed by this revelation.

"I... I see," Cody managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks for telling me."

Rex watched his brother retreat into himself, a part of him regretting the lie but holding onto the belief that it was better for Cody to face this disappointment now rather than later.

Cody excused himself, citing a need for some fresh air. He stepped outside into the cool evening, the sky painted with hues of twilight. The world around him felt suddenly distant, unimportant. He walked aimlessly, his mind replaying every interaction with Obi-Wan, searching for signs he had missed, clues that Obi-Wan was interested in someone else.

The hurt settled in his chest, a heavy, aching presence. He had been so close to revealing his feelings, so close to taking that leap. Now, the thought of Obi-Wan with someone else made him question everything – their friendship, the connection he had felt, the moments he had cherished.

Back at the house, Rex observed his brother's departure with a conflicted heart. He knew he had taken a risk, one that might backfire. But in his mind, he was protecting Cody, shielding him from a potential heartbreak that could shatter him. Rex hoped that, in time, Cody would understand and forgive him for this deception.

As the night deepened, both brothers were lost in their thoughts, each grappling with the complexities of emotions and the decisions that had led them to this point. For Cody, it was a night of heartache and questioning, a turning point in his feelings for Obi-Wan. For Rex, it was a restless night, filled with doubt and the hope that he had made the right choice. The path ahead was uncertain, the outcome unknown, but the journey of their hearts continued, each step laden with the weight of unspoken words and hidden truths.

As Obi-Wan and Quinlan sat in the quietude of Quinlan's office, surrounded by the academic trappings of marked papers and textbooks, the air was filled with the rhythmic scratching of pens and an undercurrent of thoughtful silence. It was in this contemplative atmosphere that Obi-Wan broached the subject weighing heavily on his mind.

“Quinlan, can we talk about something personal?” Obi-Wan asked, his voice tinged with hesitance.

Quinlan glanced up, his sharp eyes softening. “Of course, Obi-Wan. What’s going on?”

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan delved into the heart of his turmoil. “It’s about Cody. Rex, his brother, warned me off, saying I might be reading too much into our friendship. I’ve been trying to keep my distance, but I’m... I’m not sure of my own feelings anymore.”

Quinlan leaned back, his expression turning pensive. “I’ve been to your store, Obi-Wan. I’ve seen you and Cody together. There’s a connection there, and it’s not just one-sided. Cody looks at you in a way that’s more than just friendly.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and introspection flickering across his face. “You think so? I’ve been convincing myself that he just sees me as a friend, nothing more.”

“From what I’ve seen, there’s definitely something there,” Quinlan affirmed, his voice steady and reassuring. “Cody’s feelings seem to mirror your own. There’s a warmth, a mutual respect and something deeper. I think you’re both dancing around something that’s pretty clear to an outside observer.”

The words stirred something in Obi-Wan, a glimmer of hope mixed with a swirl of apprehension. “But what about the concerns Rex raised? The age difference, the fact that he works for me?”

Quinlan considered this for a moment. “Those are valid concerns, but they don’t have to be deal-breakers. You’re both adults, and as long as you approach this with honesty and respect, there’s no reason not to explore what you both clearly feel.”

Obi-Wan absorbed his friend's words, feeling a tumultuous mix of emotions. The possibility that Cody might reciprocate his feelings changed everything. It turned his carefully maintained distance into an unnecessary barrier, his caution into a potential lost opportunity.

As they wrapped up their work and parted ways, Obi-Wan felt a newfound sense of clarity. Quinlan’s observations had given him a different perspective, a nudge toward facing the truth of his feelings and the potential of what lay between him and Cody.

Walking back to the bookstore, Obi-Wan’s mind was alight with possibilities. The thought of having a conversation with Cody, of possibly stepping into a relationship, was both daunting and exhilarating. He realized now that he owed it to both of them to find out where their mutual affection could lead.

That evening, as Obi-Wan walked through the quiet streets, his thoughts were filled with Cody. The prospect of opening up about his feelings, of potentially starting a new chapter together, brought a mix of nerves and excitement. The night seemed to hold a sense of promise, a whisper of what could be if he only dared to reach out and grasp it. With each step, Obi-Wan felt a growing resolve. It was time to step out of the shadows of doubt and into the light of possibility.

***

The walk back to his car from the bookstore felt longer than usual for Cody. The day had been strangely hollow without Obi-Wan's presence, the store's usually comforting atmosphere now tinged with a sense of emptiness. As he passed by the university, lost in his thoughts, a familiar figure caught his eye.

There, in the soft glow of the streetlights, was Obi-Wan, engaged in what appeared to be a heartfelt hug with Professor Quinlan Voss. Cody stopped in his tracks, a pang of hurt coursing through him. The scene before him seemed to confirm his worst fears - the warning from Rex, the distance Obi-Wan had been maintaining, and now this. His heart sank as he jumped to the conclusion that this must be the date Rex had mentioned.

In that moment, the pieces fell into place in the most painful way. Cody watched as Obi-Wan and Quinlan parted ways, each with a friendly pat on the back and a smile. But to Cody, it appeared as a confirmation of a budding relationship, a visual representation of his unrequited feelings.

Feeling a mix of sadness and resignation, Cody continued to his car, his steps heavy with a sense of defeat. The pain of what he perceived as unreturned affection weighed heavily on him, casting a shadow over the fond memories he had of his time in the bookstore with Obi-Wan.

The drive home was a blur, Cody's mind preoccupied with the scene he had just witnessed. The thought of continuing to work and study at the bookstore, in the constant presence of Obi-Wan, seemed unbearable now. How could he keep subjecting himself to this heartache, day after day, knowing that his feelings were one-sided?

By the time he reached home, Cody had made up his mind. He couldn't keep putting himself through this emotional turmoil. The bookstore, once a place of joy and learning, had become a reminder of his unreciprocated feelings. It was time to step back, to distance himself from the source of his pain.

That night, Cody lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the day's events. The thought of not seeing Obi-Wan every day brought a profound sense of loss, yet he knew he needed to protect his heart. He would find another place to study, maybe even look for a different job. It would be hard, but he needed to heal, to move past these feelings that now seemed so misguided.

As sleep finally claimed him, Cody felt a sense of resolve amidst the heartache. He would start tomorrow afresh, a step away from the past and towards a future where he could mend the pieces of his broken heart. The journey ahead would be difficult, but necessary – a path he must walk to find peace and, hopefully, one day, a love that was returned.

***

In the quietude of the bookstore on Monday evening, a sense of finality hung in the air as thick as the scent of old books. Cody, weighed down by a heavy heart, pushed open the door, his footsteps echoing softly in the silent space. The familiar sight of Obi-Wan behind the counter, a staple in this refuge of literature, now only amplified the ache in Cody's heart.

Obi-Wan looked up, his features brightening momentarily before registering the seriousness in Cody’s demeanor. “Cody, what's the matter?” he asked, concern etching his voice.

Gathering his resolve, Cody spoke, his voice steady but laced with an underlying current of pain. "Obi-Wan, I... I need to step back from the job here. It's just... things have become too complicated."

The words struck Obi-Wan like a physical blow, surprise and confusion clouding his face. "Complicated? How? Cody, what’s happened?"

Cody hesitated, his gaze drifting away. “It’s just... working here, with you being my boss and all... I think I might have gotten the wrong idea about... us.” The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications.

Obi-Wan’s heart sank, a surge of guilt washing over him. Rex’s warning echoed in his mind, and Cody’s words seemed to confirm his worst fears – that he had inadvertently misused his position of authority.

“I’m so sorry, Cody. I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I never intended...” Obi-Wan’s words trailed off, the realization of the situation leaving him at a loss.

Cody shook his head, offering a weak, resigned smile. “It’s not your fault, Obi-Wan. I just need some time to sort things out on my own. This job... it’s meant a lot to me, but right now, I think it’s best if I leave.”

The conversation was brief, the air between them filled with a myriad of unspoken thoughts and emotions. As Cody turned to leave, Obi-Wan felt a deep sense of regret, his own feelings tangled in a web of misunderstanding and perceived improprieties.

“Goodbye, Obi-Wan,” Cody said quietly, his hand on the door.

“Goodbye, Cody,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

The door closed softly, leaving Obi-Wan alone among the shelves and books, the pillars of his life that now seemed cold and distant. The store, once a haven of warmth and connection, now felt empty, a stark reminder of what he had lost.

As the night drew in, Obi-Wan stood motionless, lost in a sea of regret and confusion. The pain of Cody’s departure was compounded by the thought that he had, however unintentionally, caused Cody distress. The realization that his own repressed feelings might have contributed to the situation only deepened his sense of guilt.

The bookstore closed for the night, but for Obi-Wan, there was no respite from his thoughts. He walked home under the starlit sky, each step a reminder of the delicate dance of emotions and power dynamics that had led to this moment of separation and heartache. The missed opportunity and the misinterpretation of their relationship weighed heavily on his soul, a poignant testament to the complexity of human connections and the unintended consequences of unvoiced feelings.

****

In the days following Cody’s resignation from the bookstore, a palpable change had settled over him, like a shadow dimming his usually bright demeanor. The bustling energy of their family home, usually a source of comfort and liveliness, now seemed to barely register in Cody's world. He moved through the days quietly, his usual enthusiasm dulled, his laughter rare and subdued.

Rex watched his brother with a growing sense of concern and guilt. He had never seen Cody like this — so withdrawn and despondent. The lively debates, the shared jokes, and the easy banter that had always been a staple of their relationship seemed to have evaporated. Cody was physically present, yet emotionally distant, lost in his own thoughts.

Their study sessions at the bookstore, once a routine part of their week, had ceased. The absence of those visits was not just a change in location but a symbol of the emotional rift that had formed. Rex could sense the void the bookstore, and more specifically, Obi-Wan, had left in Cody’s life.

One evening, as they sat in their shared room, the silence was almost tangible. Rex glanced over at Cody, who was staring blankly at a textbook, his notes untouched. The usual fervor for his studies was absent, replaced by a listless disinterest.

"Hey, Cody," Rex started tentatively, breaking the silence. "You know, if you want to talk about anything... I'm here."

Cody looked up, his eyes reflecting a deep sadness. "Thanks, Rex. But what's there to say? I made a fool of myself over Obi-Wan, and now I have to live with it."

Rex frowned, his heart aching for his brother. "You didn't make a fool of yourself. You had feelings, that's normal. And you couldn't have known how things would turn out."

Cody sighed, a forlorn expression on his face. "Maybe, but it doesn’t change how things are now. I just feel so... lost. I miss the bookstore, I miss... him. But going back there, seeing him, it's just too painful."

Rex reached out, placing a hand on Cody's shoulder. "I get it, and I'm sorry you're going through this. But maybe, with time, it'll get easier. You'll find a way to move on."

Cody nodded, but the lack of conviction in his response was evident. The wound was still fresh, the loss too recent for any words of comfort to truly take hold.

The room fell back into silence, each brother lost in his own thoughts. Rex couldn't help but feel responsible for the part he had played in this situation. His intention had been to protect Cody, but in doing so, had he inadvertently deepened his brother's heartache?

As the night wore on, the quiet of the room was a stark contrast to the turmoil of emotions within. For Cody, it was a struggle to come to terms with his feelings, to find a way to heal from a love unrequited. For Rex, it was a time of reflection and regret, wondering if there was something more he could have done, some way he could have helped his brother navigate the complexities of his heart. The bond between the brothers remained, a constant in their ever-changing lives, but the shadow of what had transpired at the bookstore lingered, a silent testament to the intricacies of love and loss.

***

In the weeks that followed, the change in Obi-Wan was not only apparent to himself but also to those around him. His friends, particularly Plo Koon, Quinlan, and Mace, who had known him through various chapters of his life, could not help but notice the cloud of melancholy that seemed to have settled over him.

They often gathered at their usual haunt, a cozy café where they had spent countless evenings discussing everything from literature to the nuances of life. But recently, these meetings had taken on a different tone, with Obi-Wan's usual animated discussions replaced by a somber quietness.

One evening, as they sat around a table laden with half-finished cups of coffee, Plo Koon broached the subject that had been silently hovering over them. "Obi-Wan, you've been awfully quiet these past few weeks. Is everything alright?"

Obi-Wan offered a strained smile, stirring his coffee absently. "I'm fine, Plo. Just got a lot on my mind, I guess."

Quinlan leaned forward, his eyes studying Obi-Wan closely. "It's about Cody, isn't it? You haven't been the same since he left the bookstore."

Obi-Wan sighed, the façade of normalcy crumbling. "Yes, it's about Cody. I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping a distance. But now, I just feel like I've lost a part of myself. I miss him, and I regret not telling him how I truly feel."

Mace, ever the voice of reason, added, "You might still have a chance, Obi-Wan. Why not reach out to him?"

"It's too late for that," Obi-Wan replied, a note of resignation in his voice. "I think I hurt him more than I realized. And I can't shake off the feeling that I misused my position as his boss."

As the conversation continued, Plo Koon shared his own observations. "I've noticed a change in Cody as well, in my classes. His work isn’t what it used to be. He seems distracted, disconnected. It's clear that whatever happened between you two has affected him deeply."

The revelation only added to Obi-Wan's sense of guilt and regret. The thought of Cody suffering because of him was a bitter pill to swallow.

The evening wound down with words of encouragement from his friends, but Obi-Wan’s spirits remained low. As he walked home, the once-familiar streets seemed to echo his loneliness, each step a reminder of the void that Cody's absence had left in his life.

Meanwhile, Cody was grappling with his own sorrow. The absence of the bookstore in his daily routine felt like a missing limb, an emptiness that nothing else could fill. He tried to immerse himself in his studies, to lose himself in the world of architecture, but the passion that once drove him felt dimmed, overshadowed by his heartache.

As both men navigated their separate lives, the shared memories of their time in the bookstore haunted them, a bittersweet reminder of what had once been and what could have been. The quiet understanding and companionship that had blossomed in the aisles of the bookstore now felt like a distant dream, a chapter closed too soon in the story of their lives. The weight of unspoken words and missed opportunities lingered heavily, a silent testament to the complexities of the heart and the paths not taken.

****

After his architecture class, Cody lingered, his focus lost amidst his designs and thoughts. The usual excitement that came with creating and planning had dimmed under the shadow of his feelings for Obi-Wan and the seeming confirmation of their unrequited nature.

Plo Koon, having watched Cody's demeanor change over the past weeks, approached him with a mix of concern and understanding. “Cody, may I have a moment with you?” he asked gently.

Cody looked up, a bit surprised, and nodded. They moved to a quieter corner of the room, away from the bustling energy of departing students.

Plo Koon, with the empathy of a seasoned educator and mentor, spoke softly, “I’ve noticed you’ve been quite down recently. If there’s something on your mind, perhaps I can offer some perspective.”

Cody hesitated, then the words spilled out. “It’s about Obi-Wan,” he confessed, his voice tinged with sadness. “I thought there was something more between us, but then I saw him with Professor Voss. It just confirmed my fears that my feelings aren’t reciprocated.”

Plo Koon's expression shifted to one of gentle clarification. “Cody, what you saw was a misunderstanding. Obi-Wan wasn’t on a date with Professor Voss. He was merely assisting him with some academic work. In fact, Obi-Wan has been quite troubled since you left the bookstore, especially after an encounter with your brother, Rex.”

Cody's brow furrowed, a mixture of confusion and surprise evident on his face. “Rex? What does he have to do with this?”

“From what I understand, Rex had a conversation with Obi-Wan, warning him about the potential impropriety of any feelings he might have towards you, given his position as your employer. It seems to have deeply affected Obi-Wan, leading him to distance himself as a precaution,” Plo explained carefully.

This revelation struck Cody with a mix of emotions. The idea that Rex had intervened, that Obi-Wan might have feelings for him after all, but had pulled away because of a sense of propriety, was both shocking and illuminating.

“Thank you, Professor,” Cody said, a new sense of clarity dawning within him. “This changes everything. I need to talk to Obi-Wan, clear the air.”

Cody left the university, his mind racing with this new information. The weight of his heartache was still there, but now it was tempered with a sense of hope, a possibility that maybe, just maybe, things between him and Obi-Wan could be mended.

Meanwhile, Plo Koon watched Cody leave, hoping his intervention would help two people, evidently fond of each other, find their way back from the misunderstandings that had driven them apart. The complexities of the human heart, he knew, were never straightforward, but in this case, he sensed a genuine affection that deserved a chance to be explored and understood.

Cody entered the bookstore with a heart full of mixed emotions - apprehension, hope, and a newfound determination following his conversation with Plo Koon. The familiar bell chimed above the door, a sound that once brought him comfort, now a herald of the crucial conversation ahead.

The bookstore was quiet, save for the soft murmur of a few patrons in the study nook. The shelves stood like silent sentinels, witnesses to the countless interactions and unspoken words between him and Obi-Wan. But Obi-Wan himself was not behind the counter, not amidst the aisles where he usually would be, organizing or recommending books to customers.

Driven by a blend of urgency and trepidation, Cody moved towards the back of the store, where a small office and storage room lay. As he approached, he could see Obi-Wan through the half-open door. He was sitting at his desk, his posture one of deep contemplation, a stark contrast to the usual energy and warmth he exuded.

"Obi-Wan?" Cody called out softly, knocking gently on the open door.

Obi-Wan looked up, his expression transforming from solemn introspection to mild surprise. "Cody," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of emotions. "I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything okay?"

Cody stepped inside, closing the door behind him for privacy. "We need to talk," he began, his heart beating faster with each word. "About us, about what happened."

Obi-Wan stood up, a sense of wariness in his posture. "Cody, if this is about your job, you don’t need to explain. I understand why you left."

"It's not just about the job, Obi-Wan," Cody replied, his eyes searching Obi-Wan's. "It's about us, about what I thought was happening between us. I saw you with Professor Voss and thought... But Plo Koon told me the truth, about why you've been distant."

Obi-Wan's expression shifted to one of realization, then regret. "Cody, I... Your brother, Rex, came to me. He was concerned about the nature of our relationship, given our positions. I didn’t want to overstep any boundaries or misuse my role as your boss."

Cody took a step closer, his voice firm yet filled with emotion. "But did you ever consider how I felt? Obi-Wan, I have feelings for you. I thought you might feel the same, but then you pulled away, and I didn't understand why."

The confession hung in the air, a vulnerable truth laid bare. Obi-Wan looked at Cody, his own emotions surfacing - a mixture of affection and fear, hope and uncertainty.

"Cody, I... I do have feelings for you," Obi-Wan admitted, the words both liberating and frightening. "But I was scared. Scared of how it might look, scared of ruining what we had."

The room was thick with unspoken words and emotions, years of camaraderie and months of confusion culminating in this moment. Cody stepped closer still, closing the gap between them.

"Obi-Wan, I don't want to live with 'what ifs' and regrets. Can we... Can we try to see where this goes? Just us, no roles, no bookstore. Just Cody and Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan’s eyes reflected a depth of emotion, the walls he had built around his heart beginning to crumble. "Yes, Cody, I’d like that. I want to see where this journey takes us, together."

In that small back office, amidst stacks of books and papers, a new chapter in their lives began, one filled with the promise of understanding and exploring the connection that had always existed between them. They stood there, two souls finally allowing themselves to acknowledge the bond they shared, ready to navigate the uncertain yet hopeful path ahead.

Cody’s heart was pounding, a rhythm loud in his ears, as he took the final step that closed the space between them. The proximity to Obi-Wan, so long desired and yet so carefully avoided, sent a rush of adrenaline through him. The years of friendship, the months of confusion, and the recent heartache all seemed to converge in this single moment.

"Can I kiss you?" Cody's voice was barely above a whisper, yet it resonated in the small room with the weight of all the words unspoken between them.

Obi-Wan's response was a silent nod, his own apprehension and desire evident in the quickening of his breath and the slight parting of his lips. His eyes remained locked with Cody’s, a silent communication passing between them, an acknowledgment of the step they were about to take.

Slowly, almost tentatively, Cody leaned in, the distance between them diminishing until there was nothing left but the shared warmth of their breath. Their lips met in a kiss that was gentle at first, a tentative exploration, a question asked and answered without words. As the initial hesitancy faded, the kiss deepened, becoming a dance of emotion and connection, a physical manifestation of the feelings they had long harbored.

Obi-Wan’s hands, initially hanging at his sides, slowly rose to rest on Cody’s shoulders, grounding him in the reality of the moment. Cody’s own hands found their way to Obi-Wan’s waist, pulling him closer, deepening their embrace. The world around them faded into a blur, leaving only the two of them, lost in the discovery of each other.

As they eventually parted, breathless and with a newfound sense of closeness, they shared a look of wonder and a smile that spoke volumes. The barriers they had built, the fears they had clung to, seemed insignificant now in the face of this newfound intimacy.

Their eyes met, still close, conveying depths of emotion that words had previously failed to capture. In the wake of the kiss, a vulnerable, yet necessary confession hung unspoken in the air.

Cody, looking into Obi-Wan's eyes, felt a surge of courage. “Obi-Wan, I... I love you,” he said, his voice a blend of certainty and wonder. It was a truth that had been growing in his heart, unacknowledged until this moment.

Obi-Wan's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and joy lighting up his features. “Cody,” he breathed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I love you too. I was just too afraid to admit it, even to myself.”

The words, so simple yet so profound, filled the room, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. It was a revelation, a release of pent-up emotions that had been restrained by fear and doubt.

For a few heartbeats, they simply stood there, basking in the newfound openness and honesty. The confession had bridged the gap between them, turning uncertainty into certainty, confusion into clarity.

Cody reached out, taking Obi-Wan's hands in his, feeling the warmth and the slight tremble that spoke of emotion and vulnerability. “I’ve wanted to say that for so long,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

Obi-Wan squeezed Cody’s hands gently, his eyes shining with unshed tears of happiness. “And I’ve wanted to hear it. To say it. Cody, you mean more to me than I ever realized.”

In that small back office, surrounded by books and the quiet hum of the world outside, Cody and Obi-Wan stood at the threshold of a new beginning. The words they had shared were more than just confessions; they were the opening lines of a new chapter in their lives, one filled with the promise of love, understanding, and the joy of being together.

The bookstore, once a simple backdrop to their daily lives, had now become the setting for their most significant moment, a place where their love had finally found its voice. As they slowly let go of each other's hands, the future lay ahead, uncharted but less daunting now that they were facing it together. The journey would be theirs to share, each step forward a testament to the love they had declared in the quiet sanctuary of their shared haven.

****

Epilogue

Three years had woven their threads into the tapestry of Cody and Obi-Wan's lives, each year strengthening the bond that had blossomed in the quiet confines of the bookstore. Their love, once hesitant and unspoken, now thrived in the light of shared experiences, challenges overcome, and joys celebrated together.

On this momentous day, the air was charged with excitement and anticipation. It was Cody's graduation day, marking not only the culmination of his master's degree and specialization in architecture but also a milestone in the journey he and Obi-Wan had embarked on together.

The university auditorium was abuzz with the chatter and laughter of graduates and their families. Rows of seats were filled with proud parents, siblings, and friends, all gathered to celebrate the achievements of their loved ones.

Among the audience sat Obi-Wan, his eyes searching the sea of caps and gowns for the familiar figure of Cody. He felt a surge of pride swell in his chest as he spotted Cody, standing taller than most, his cap slightly askew, a nervous yet excited smile playing on his lips.

As the ceremony progressed, with speeches about futures bright with potential and the world awaiting the talents of the graduates, Obi-Wan's thoughts were solely on Cody. He remembered the young man who had walked into his bookstore years ago, full of dreams and aspirations, and how much he had grown, both in his craft and as a person they had built together.

Finally, the moment arrived. Cody's name was called, and he walked across the stage with a confident stride. Obi-Wan's heart swelled with an indescribable mixture of joy and love. As Cody took the diploma in hand, his achievement was met with applause and cheers, a recognition of the hard work and dedication he had poured into his studies.

Cody’s eyes found Obi-Wan's in the crowd, and in that glance, there was a shared understanding, a silent communication of love and mutual respect. Obi-Wan clapped enthusiastically, his smile broad and genuine, reflecting the immense pride he felt.

After the ceremony, as graduates mingled with their guests, Cody made his way through the crowd to Obi-Wan. They embraced, a moment of personal celebration amidst the public festivity.

"Congratulations, Cody. I’m so proud of you," Obi-Wan said, his voice filled with emotion.

Cody, holding Obi-Wan tightly, replied, "Thank you for being here, for supporting me through all of this. I couldn’t have done it without you."

They stood together, basking in the joy of the moment, surrounded by the bustling energy of the graduates and their families. Their journey had seen them navigate the uncertainties of a new relationship, the challenges of Cody's rigorous academic program, and the everyday complexities of life. Yet, through it all, their love had remained a constant, a source of strength and comfort.

As they left the auditorium, hand in hand, ready to celebrate the day's achievements, they looked forward to the future. It was a future they would build together, filled with dreams, aspirations, and the enduring love that had blossomed in a quaint bookstore, where a simple "hello" had led to a lifetime of shared moments and memories.

As Cody and Obi-Wan left their apartment above the bookstore to head to Cody's family celebration, the atmosphere was tinged with a sense of anticipation. The day had already been significant, marking Cody's graduation, but for Cody, there was an additional, momentous event yet to come.

Walking side by side through the familiar streets that had become an integral part of their shared life, they chatted about the day's ceremony and the family gathering ahead. Obi-Wan, attuned to Cody's emotions, noticed an underlying current of nervous energy in him.

"You seem a bit on edge, Cody. Excited about tonight?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to gauge the cause of Cody's subtle restlessness.

Cody smiled, masking his inner turmoil with practiced ease. "Yeah, just excited, and a bit overwhelmed with everything, I guess," he replied, his mind racing with the plan he had been carefully crafting for weeks.

The celebration with Cody's family was a warm, boisterous affair, filled with laughter, congratulations, and stories shared amongst family and friends. Throughout the evening, Cody was the center of attention, yet his thoughts kept drifting to the plan he had for later that night, back at the bookstore.

Finally, as the evening wound down and they made their way back to their apartment, Cody’s heart began to race with anticipation. This was it, the moment he had been preparing for. The bookstore was quiet, its familiar shelves and aisles bathed in the soft glow of the evening lights.

"Obi-Wan, can we go inside the bookstore for a moment? I want to show you something," Cody said, his voice steady despite the butterflies in his stomach.

Curious, Obi-Wan followed Cody into the bookstore. The space that had been the starting point of their relationship, where countless conversations and quiet moments had unfolded, now held an air of quiet expectancy.

Cody led Obi-Wan to their favorite spot, a cozy nook surrounded by shelves of books. He took a deep breath, turning to face Obi-Wan. In the soft light of the bookstore, his eyes were earnest and filled with emotion.

"Obi-Wan, these past three years with you have been the best of my life. You've made me happier than I ever thought possible," Cody began, his voice tinged with the depth of his feelings. "You've been my partner, my confidant, my best friend. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Kneeling down, Cody reached into his pocket and pulled out a small ring box. He opened it to reveal a simple, elegant ring. "Obi-Wan, will you marry me?"

Obi-Wan, taken aback by the suddenness of the proposal, was momentarily speechless. Joy, surprise, and love flooded through him as he looked at Cody, kneeling before him in the heart of the place where their journey had begun.

"Yes, Cody," Obi-Wan finally said, his voice filled with emotion. "Yes, I will marry you."

As they embraced, the bookstore around them seemed to echo with the significance of the moment. It was more than just a proposal; it was a culmination of all they had shared and a promise of all the years to come. The books, silent witnesses to their love story, now bore testament to the beginning of a new chapter in their lives together, one filled with the promise of shared dreams and a future hand in hand.

In the warmth of their embrace, amidst the rows of books that had silently witnessed the evolution of their relationship, Cody and Obi-Wan shared a moment of pure joy and connection. It was a perfect culmination of their journey thus far and a beautiful beginning to their shared future.

As they pulled apart slightly, looking into each other's eyes, Cody’s thoughts briefly wandered to his brother, Rex. There had been a time of misunderstanding, where Rex's well-intentioned intervention had caused a rift between them. But with everything out in the open, Cody had come to understand and forgive Rex's actions. He knew his brother had acted out of love and concern, albeit misguidedly. The reconciliation with Rex had brought an added sense of peace and completeness to this moment.

"Obi-Wan," Cody said softly, a contented smile on his face, "you know, with everything that's happened – the misunderstandings, the reunion, and now this – it's like we're living in a romance novel."

Obi-Wan chuckled, the sound mingling with the quiet ambiance of the bookstore. "I couldn't have written a better story myself," he replied, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "And the best part is, it's our story."

They shared a gentle, affirming kiss, sealing their commitment to each other. The bookstore, once just a setting for their burgeoning relationship, had now become a sacred space, a testament to their love and the journey they had shared.

As they left the bookstore hand in hand, ready to step into the next chapter of their lives together, the world outside seemed brighter, filled with endless possibilities. Their story, indeed, was like something out of a romance novel – a tale of love found, lost, and reclaimed, set against the backdrop of a quaint bookstore that had seen them grow as individuals and as a couple.

In the quiet closing of the bookstore door behind them, there was a sense of completeness, a narrative arc fulfilled. Yet, it was also a beginning, the start of a new chapter in their lives, one filled with the promise of shared tomorrows, laughter, challenges, and love – a romance novel come to life, with its happiest ending yet to be written.

Would love to hear your thoughts and feelings about Cody and Obi-Wan's story!

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javierpena-inatacvest · 1 year ago

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1K Followers Celebration!!!

UM HI?!? YOU GUYS, WHAT THE FUCK?! I don't know where the hell all y'all gathered from to come listen to my ramblings, but I cannot express how grateful I am for each and every one of you- I know I've said this before, and I'll say it again, but when I first posted the first few chapters of NTL on a whim a few months ago, I truly thought nothing would ever come of it. The fact that there are so many of you who have read this story, let alone enjoy it and come back for more means more to me than you'll ever know. I love all of you so much, thanks for coming along with me on this crazy ride, because I wouldn't be here without you 😭🫶🏻💕

OKAY SAPPY MOMENT OVER, LET'S GET TO THE FUN STUFF 🤪

I thought it would be fun to celebrate 1K to do some fun asks! You guys always are giving me great ideas for things and I love your input (it's the relentless people pleaser in me) but I figured I would let y'all ask away with some fun NTL/Javi and Osita/Personal questions!!! Send me anything from this list (or anything else you can think of) and I'll answer!! I'll keep my asks open for the next few days 😎

I love all of you so so SO much, big forehead kisses and hugs to each and every one of you 🥹💕

*Answered questions/responses are linked!*

Javi and Osita

What's their favorite thing about each other?

What's the thing that annoys them the most about the other?

Their favorite places/things to do when they go on a date? (besides sex, that will get its own question(s), don't worry LOL)

Favorite outfit the other wears?

What they wear on a normal day?

What they were like as kids?

Favorite book/movie/TV show?

Javi's least favorite school related activity Osita asks him to help with?

What did they study in college/favorite subject in school growing up?

Are they morning or night people?

What they admire the most about each other?

What's their biggest insecurity?

What are their bad habits?

What are their biggest regrets?

Biggest fears for the future?

Favorite thing to do with each other?

Each other's non-sexual turn ons?

Each other's sexual turn ons?

Things that are hard nos for them during sex?

Favorite place to have sex?

Favorite position(s)?

How they can tell that they know the other is horny/wants to have sex?

Realistically, how many kids do they actually want? (I know, I know, at this rate they'd have 47 children)

They both really don't care, but do they hope that their kids are girls, boys or a mix of both?

Generally, what will they be like as parents?

You pick, ask me any question you can think of that isn't on here!

NTL Universe (Tell me yours answers or I can tell you mine!)

What's your favorite chapter?

What's your favorite drabble/one-shot?

What's your least favorite chapter/one-shot (I promise I won't be offended hahah)

Who's your favorite character?

Who's your least favorite character?

What's your favorite smut scene?

What's smut you've already seen from NTL and want more of?

What's smut you haven't seen yet that you want?

What's something you want to see happen in the future? (places they go, situations they find themselves in, etc...)

Characters you want to see more/less of?

Give a summary of the next chapter/one-shot you're working on

Ask me something about a thing that hasn't happened yet in NTL and I'll give you a spoiler for it (I'll tag it so if you don't want to see it you won't!)

Ask me something that isn't on here!

Personal Questions

What do I picture Osita looking like?

What has been my favorite part about writing NTL?

What's been my least favorite part?

Where/when do I normally write?

Madeline, how actually self indulgent is Osita?

Are there any characters that were inspired by people I know?

Does anyone in my life know I write NTL?

How would I describe my personality?

Weird fun fact about me?

Why is Javi my favorite Pedro character?

What other jobs did I consider before going into teaching?

What other things do I do for fun besides write?

I'm an open book, you can ask ya girl pretty much anything!

#javier peña #javi peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena x f!reader #javier peña fanfiction #Javi x Osita

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cococassey · 5 months ago

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Webtoon: After School Lessons for Unripe Apples (ch 1 to 126)

Author/Artist: Soonkki

Spoiler free:

Why do I do this to myself? To try chasing my Lovely Runner blues away, now I'm hooked to korean webtoon ASLFUA 😭! Which is exponentially worse because 1. it's still ongoing, 2. not 100% assured the OTP will end up together (Soonki pls pinky promise me). Well, at least it has free official eng translations (big plus)!

Got curious because I saw the fanart. It's not an art style I usually go for, but the author is Soonkki. Cheese in the trap was a kdrama I was intrigued of from the start (Jung!), but didn't get to finish because of the negative reviews, but I'll check out the webtoon soon which is finished yay!

Lovely Runner made me miss coming of age, youth romance stories, so this one really fits the bill. Cheol is a very tall big built male lead, while Mi-ae is a small pea, which reminded me a lot of the Sun Jae-Sol dynamic. But that's where most of the similarities end. This is about Mi-ae's school life adventures, trying her hardest to be friends with the new scary deskmate (who of course is a softie inside), trying his darnest to be inconspicuous at school, and failing miserably at ignoring her lol.

A very very slow burn, slice of life kind of feel at the start, a lot of studying involved, but once it gets going, I finished 3 years worth of content in a daze in 2 days! I'm kind of weak for the energizer bunny girl chasing after the grumpy broody guy trope, so this is right up my alley.

Mi-ae is just a ball of positivity. She can be sad of stuff, but not for long. Cheol who only wants to be on the down low, and wants nothing to do with such a quirky chaotic girl, but of course he can't help himself. He's just so protective of those he perceived to be picked upon. Seeing closed up Cheol gradually opening up because of Mi-ae's exuberance is a joy to watch.

Following Cheol and Mi-ae growing up together, traversing school, friendship, and sorting out their inexplicable confusing feelings (squeeee). The whole series is such a happy pill! Can't wait to see more after school group hijinks, and the growth of all the characters and their relationships.

Note: there is some triggering content like school corporal punishment, bullying, but nothing too detailed on page.

Spoilers:

My fave story arcs so far:

- Relentless Mi-ae asking frenemy Honggyu for soccer lessons because of Cheol, and clueless protective Cheol getting frustrated where Mi-ae keeps running off with scrapes all over. This is the arc where Cheol finally got worn down and accepted her millionth time offer of friendship lol.

- Jinseop's hilarious haircut scene! Enough said.

- Jinseop, who you'll first think as the love triangle or bully, suddenly becomes Cheol's and Mi-ae's love cupid to propel these two clueless lovebirds along.

- Cheol going absolutely bonkers about that accidental kiss. Priceless.

- Honggyu and Mi-ae's whole chaotic birthday arc where the gang helped Honggyu escape bullies. Starts with Cheol's jealousy antics, showing up suddenly on Jinseop and Mi-ae's impromptu date, and ended the adventurous day with crumbs of Cheol-Mae sweetness.

Can't wait for more...the mystery of Jisu (the real love triangle?), and Cheol's past/scar! Oh no it doesn't really bode well for me to get invested as CITT completed in 7 yrs. No thanks Soonkki, for the torture of ending the eng webtoon so far in a kiss-hanger. It's like a treat and torture at the same time.

#webtoon #naver webtoon #after school lessons for unripe apples #aslfua #cheol kim #mi ae hwang #manhwa #soonkki

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littjara-mirrorlake · 2 years ago

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Plane Shift: New Phyrexia - Human Subraces

For the past 2-3 years, I've been working on a homebrew D&D 5e supplement for New Phyrexia, and it occurred to me that I could publish/share it in installments here on Tumblr! Today, I'll put up human subraces. Core-born Phyrexians and playable myr (among other things) to come! PS:NP was written to take place during Scars of Mirrodin block or earlier, since that's when my campaign is, but its contents--including these subraces--are forward compatible with other points in the timeline.

Like their relatives on other planes, the humans of Mirrodin are ingenious, ambitious folk who strive to leave their mark on the world. They are divided into five distinct ethnic groups: the Auriok of the Razor Fields, the Neurok of the Quicksilver Sea, the Moriok of the Mephidross, the Vulshok of the Oxidda Chain, and the Sylvok of the Tangle. Your Mirran human character has the following traits.

Type. You are a Humanoid. You are also considered a human for any prerequisite or effect that requires you to be a human.

Ability Score Increase. One ability score of your choice increases by 2, and another increases by 1.

Age. Humans reach adulthood in their late teens and live about a century.

Languages. You can speak, read, and write Common and one other language of your choice (except Phyrexian).

Size. Humans vary widely in height and build, from barely 5 feet to well over 6 feet tall. Regardless of your position in that range, your size is Medium.

Speed. Your base walking speed is 30 feet.

Ethnic group. Choose one of the five Mirran human ethnic groups for your character to belong to.

Auriok

The Auriok are a nomadic people, specializing as warriors, spellcasters, and diplomats who form alliances between tribes and with the other races of the Razor Fields. Each Auriok tribe is led by a champion who is responsible for their people's well-being. Auriok skin is bronze-colored and embedded with gold, and their hair is bleached white by the constant light of the suns.

Auriok Combat Training. You are proficient with the longsword and shortsword.

Diplomatic. You have proficiency with Insight and Persuasion.

Neurok

Having thrown off the yoke of slavery under vedalken masters, the Neurok have risen to a dominant position in the chrome-spire settlements on the Quicksilver Sea, based in their capital at Lumengrid. They are scientists and inventors, among the first to notice and study the increasing amounts of glistening oil on Mirrodin's surface. Silvery, chrome-like metal adorns Neurok skin, and their hair, often hidden under elaborate, multi-eyed headdresses, is brown, red, or blond.

Breadth of Knowledge. You gain proficiency with any combination of three skills or tools of your choice.

Cantrip. You know one cantrip of your choice from the wizard spell list. Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma is your spellcasting ability for it (choose when you select this race).

Moriok

Carving out a living in the inhospitable swamp of the Mephidross, the Moriok endure constant exposure to its necrogen gas and battle the harsh urges its fell magic draws out. Lead-like metal emerges from underneath their skin, often forming visors over their eyes. They are tall and pale, decorating their bodies with dark leather and ornaments of tooth and bone.

Inured to Necrogen. You are resistant to poison damage, and you have advantage on saving throws against being poisoned.

Relentless Endurance. When you are reduced to 0 hit points but not killed outright, you can choose to drop to 1 hit point instead. You can’t use this feature again until you finish a long rest.

Vulshok

Renowned blacksmiths, warriors, and geomancers, the Vulshok people create armor and weapons of the best quality that can be found on Mirrodin. They are divided into six tribes based on their smithing specialization: Anvil, Blade, Hammer, Helm, Shield, and Spear. The iron spikes on their skin afford them a degree of natural armor. Vulshok are heavyset and sturdily built, and ember cores are embedded in their chests, glowing red-hot in moments of strong emotion.

Expertise of the Forge. You have proficiency with smith's tools.

Heart of Flame. You have resistance to fire damage. In addition, you know the produce flame cantrip. Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma is your spellcasting ability for it (choose when you select this race).

Iron Skin. You gain a +1 bonus to your AC when you aren't wearing heavy armor.

Sylvok

The most insular of Mirrodin's humans, the Sylvok are druidic hunter-gatherers who place emphasis on tradition, nature, and harmony. Unlike the canopy-dwelling elves, Sylvok inhabit the undergrowth of the Tangle, subsisting off gelfruit and the meat they hunt. They view artifice as a form of worship, using their skills to venerate the natural world through imitation. Their skin is decorated with intricate patterns of copper that imitate the look of plant growth.

Expert Navigator. A lifetime spent in the twisted growths of the Tangle has made you sure-footed and adept in tough travelling conditions. You ignore nonmagical difficult terrain.

Sylvok Magic. You know the druidcraft cantrip. When you reach 3rd level, you can cast the animal friendship spell once per day; you must finish a long rest in order to cast the spell again using this trait. Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma is your spellcasting ability for these spells (choose when you select this race).

Tangle's Lore. You gain proficiency in a skill of your choice from among Animal Handling, History, Nature, Religion, and Survival.

#mtg #magic the gathering #dnd #dnd 5e #homebrew #dnd homebrew #mirrodin #new phyrexia #plane shift new phyrexia

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peachphernalia · 1 year ago

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hey i wrote a little dream character study about blue trying to teach him archery :)

Just Finish What You Started

(ao3 link) word count: 3311 tws: somewhat graphic description of injury

short summary: If he’s being entirely honest, Dream was not expecting a short-notice archery session to be such a humiliating experience. And, well. He did his best to be optimistic, but there were really only so many ways Blue could positively say, “You tried!” before it got exhausting. Or, Dream learns to do what he has to.

[dream by joku, blue by p0pcornpr1nce]

full ver. under the cut. ☀️

Fwhip!

Miss. Sixth ring. Draw.

Fwhip!

Miss. Sixth ring. Draw.

Fwhip!

Miss. Fifth ring.

Dream curses quietly under his breath, lowering his bow. Blue wanders into his periphery, arms crossed and squinting at the target.

“Well. Your grouping was pretty okay.”

Dream groans and drops his face into his free hand. He resists the urge to childishly throw the practice bow to the ground. He’s an adult, for stars’ sake.

“‘Pretty okay’ is all I’ve been managing for hours, Blue.”

If he’s being entirely honest, Dream was not expecting a short-notice archery lesson to be such a humiliating experience.

After a few too many missed shots at Nightmare with arrows that should be astonishingly easy to aim with and a few too many moments of Blue sending horrified expressions at his nonexistent stance, Dream deduced that he may not actually know how to use a bow in the way that one is supposed to despite having some five hundred years to figure it out. Of course, he made the mistake of telling this to Blue, who, to his credit, pretended to be surprised. Thankfully, his best friend happens to be the greatest royal guard in the multiverse- Blue’s words- which came with an unspecified level of archery training. A week or so of relentless irritation, and Dream eventually allowed himself to be dragged to some guard training ground that Blue had access to in Underswap with an armful of practice bows and arrows.

And, well. He did his best to be optimistic, but there were really only so many ways Blue could positively say, “You tried!” before it got exhausting.

At least he was past the several hour long stretch of time where he was usually clearing the target entirely.

Setting his bow down, Dream moves to retrieve his arrows from the target. “Seriously, I think it’s just muscle memory. With the positivity arrows you don’t need to hit anything dead on. I think you just trained yourself to do some damage by grazing someone,” Blue says from behind him, rechecking the poundage on the bow for the hundredth time. He finally makes the decision to swap it for the one he’s been holding, muttering, “No, that’s too light. Maybe that’s why you’re struggling.”

“You can tell me I’m doing a bad job, Blue. I won’t be upset.”

“No, I’m serious, I think that’s the issue. Or issues. I think both of the things I just said are the issues.”

Dream returns to the waiting line with an eye roll and a smile, arrows tucked under his arm. “Right. Yes, of course.” Blue holds out the replacement bow for him and he stares at it for a moment before gingerly taking it. He keeps his arm extended as he looks back to his friend.

“Blue.”

“Yeah.”

“You know you are my best friend in the entire multiverse?”

The skeleton in question crosses his arms, eyes immediately narrowing, “…Yes.”

“Even over Ink.”

“Obviously.”

“And you know we have been doing this for hours?”

“Yes.”

“And you do love me and value my happiness.”

“…Yyyes.”

“And you would say, ‘Yes, of course,’ if I asked if we may take a break.”

Blue goes silent, eyes still playfully narrowed. His eyelights dart between Dream and the target behind him. He taps his arm like he’s considering it.

He continues to tap.

Taps.

Tap.

“Blue-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he sighs dramatically. He puts a hand on his hip, retaking the practice bow from Dream with the other. “Whatever, whatever. We can pause for a little while. You’re lucky I’m such a benevolent teacher.”

Dream squints at his friend, but doesn’t respond. He kneels to set down the arrows in his arms, which fall to the padded ground with a series of clicks as they knock against each other. He sits, legs crossed, and glances back at Blue who is stretching his arms out above his head with a taut expression. He belatedly notes the stiffness in his own shoulders and follows suit, wincing when several of his joints audibly pop.

“Damn, it’s probably a good thing you stopped us, huh?” Dream glances over at the sound of Blue’s voice, seeing that his friend is now seated against the wall a few feet away from him with a grin, legs pulled up to his chest. “Gotta rest those old bones.”

Dream heaves a sigh, here we go with the age jokes again, and drops his arms back into his lap. His teammates had recently taken up a very tiring routine of reminding him of his years, often poking fun at his lack of technological understanding or insisting to carry things for him, lest his ‘ancient bones crumble instantly,’ in Ink’s words. It was ironic, given Ink’s status as someone absolutely equally as disconnected from mortality as Dream, and probably nearly as ancient, but he’ll let the jokes slide for as long as his friends are having fun. “You’re awful to me. Absolutely terrible.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Blue says innocently, tilting his head.

Dream shoots him the most unhappy look he can muster. He drops his chin into one of his hands, pretending to be more irritated than he is. He supposes he is old, in a sense- ancient in the way that guardians seem to be. While the years have left no visible effect on his bones since he became an adult, he is acutely aware of five or so centuries-worth of exhaustion pressed into everything he is and will ever be, somewhat annoyed by the fact that he’d lost a large portion of that time to being stone. It's unfair when he hasn’t truly lived for as long as he should have by now. Otherwise, he doesn’t mind it much. The weight behind his eye sockets is a consistency he takes some comfort in, for now. But he knows it will grow.

He didn’t carry this when he was a child, but he thinks his brother did. He doesn’t think it matters much in the present. They will both have it, and they will both hold it close to their chests.

“You know, nobody ever calls Nightmare old. Or kid, for that matter,” Dream says, exasperated. That was a common one too. He would never stop being completely baffled by the overwhelming number of times he’d been mistaken for a teen or, stars forbid, a child.

Blue’s eyes brighten immediately, “Ah, see, that’s simply because Nightmare doesn’t have such a magnificent best-friend-slash-archery-teacher as myself!”

“Of course,” Dream murmurs, “And what was your teacher like?”

Blue smiles, recognizing the invitation. It’s another routine they’ve become accustomed to, on days when Dream’s weariness is just a bit too overwhelming, that Blue will linger nearby and simply talk. He rambles so that Dream’s worries can’t, often filling the empty air with stories about his home, his friends, his brother. It’s a simple comfort for the both of them, and very welcome.

“Ah, well,” he starts, “Alphys taught us pretty much everything she knew. They say that she learned from the queen, which is probably true given her skill, but I also think she just makes some of the moves and things up,” he says, laughing. “She’s a very good guard. Definitely knows what she’s doing. Didn’t care much for archery though.”

Blue leans forward to rest his chin on his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs. He looks at the floor. “I was… not great at it, to be honest. I would always- she’d teach our unit of the guard in little groups, and she’d tell us when to shoot so we could improve our response time or something. She told us to picture an opponent, which was definitely supposed to be a human. I didn’t mind that part much at the time, had never thought about it much, but in hindsight… I don’t know. It’s not important. I would always hesitate for just a second. I’m not sure what it was, but when Al told us to shoot I was late to the target every time. I remember her pulling me aside and-“ He tugs at the hem of his glove. “And she said that I was good and that knew what I was doing. And she said that I had to know that and be confident in it, which I thought I was. And she said that I couldn’t ever hesitate like that in a real fight because it could be the reason someone gets hurt. Just that split second of doubt could be enough. She said to… just… know who I’m trying to protect.”

He sighs. “It did the trick, I guess. I can't say that I improved immediately, or even very quickly at all, but I figured it out eventually. It was easier when Paps came to watch. I don’t think the guard has ever really been his speed, as he loves to tell me, but he came to sit in when I asked him to. It got simpler when the person I needed to protect the most was standing there, maybe.”

Blue’s positivity blankets the room, continuing to roll from him in soft waves at the memories. There’s- something else accompanying it that Dream can’t readily identify, but it makes his friend’s voice sound more bittersweet than anything. He twists up the fabric under his hands as he considers it.

Blue lifts his head after a moment with an inhale, turning to Dream. “There, was that a good teaching moment? Was that inspiring? Will you shoot at something now?”

Dream immediately snorts at the tone switch, but nods. “Yes, thank you. Very inspiring. I took it to heart.” He moves to stand with an unhappy sound, cutting another age joke off with a glare before Blue can even get it out of his mouth. He picks up the practice bow Blue had tried to hand him earlier, shaking his prickling limbs awake.

“No, but with what I was saying before story time, I do seriously think there’s an issue other than you just not being good at this,” bouncing to his feet, Blue stares towards the target, face twisted in puzzlement. “It was probably the poundage and…” He pauses for a moment and furrows his brows, tapping at his chin. Dream can feel the sharp spark of satisfaction when a solution pops into his head. “Do you think having a more enemy-shaped target could help?”

His instincts jump to no, stars, please don’t teach me how to hurt, but really, what else was he going to use formal training for? No matter how much he hates it, he has to improve. He has to be the guardian that the multiverse was promised, and that meant overcoming his inability to do any real damage. That meant hurting sometimes. He has to get over it.

He tilts his head and shrugs, “I’m willing to try.”

With a nod, Blue darts away and disappears into a door on the other side of the room. He returns shortly thereafter, dragging a vaguely humanoid target behind him. He haphazardly kicks at the previous target, sending it spiraling away on creaking wheels to crash against a wall, and replaces it with the new construct. He briefly pats it on the back before returning to his place at the waiting line.

“Okay, this one requires a bit of a different thought process,” Blue says, picking up his own practice bow and nudging Dream aside to stand in front of the target. “You’re no longer aiming for a center, exactly, you’re more trying to get a full hit in rather than just grazing a limb. Whether that shot is lethal or not is up to you.” He nocks an arrow and inhales quietly, draws, pauses a moment to steady his aim, and-

Fwhip!

The arrow lodges firmly in the target’s would-be shoulder.

Blue tilts his head for a moment in judgment of his own shot. He makes a little sound of not quite satisfaction, but lowers his bow and turns back to Dream with a smile anyways.

“Head and chest are most likely to kill if you get it right,” Blue says, “Arms and legs are best to incapacitate.” Dream nods quickly in an attempt to reassure himself, but it really only serves to make him feel sick. He knows this. He has to know this. He hates that he has to know this.

“‘If I get it right,’” he echoes in a mutter.

Blue’s expression pinches, sour realization at what he’d said and something like fear spiking through the air for a brief moment. He glances at Dream, at the target. He tugs on the trim of his glove where his arm rests against his side. “I didn’t-…”

With all the softness Dream can muster: “I know what you meant.”

After a beat of silence, Blue smiles shakily and sets his bow down, stepping back. Dream resituates himself in front of the target, picking up an arrow once he’s sure his friend is a safe distance behind him. Blue chirps, “Stance!” before he can even draw, and he sighs before rearranging his footing. He pauses to listen for another correction and raises his arms when there isn’t one.

Pull back- aim, anchorpoint, recheck aim- and shoot.

Fwhip!

The arrow hits the target’s neck at an odd angle, bouncing off and skidding across the ground a few feet away with a clatter.

“Stars- DAMN IT!”

Don’t throw the bow don’t throw the bow DON’T throw it you’re an adult you’re a guardian you are an ADULT.

Dream sets the bow down gently and takes a shuddering breath. He runs both hands down his face, uncomfortably hangs onto his eye sockets for a moment before pulling his gloves off. He throws them behind him, nearly laughing at the small oof sound Blue makes when one or both hit him at what is likely stomach height. He doesn’t. This is important.

The last shot was too high. That he can tell. That he can work with. He picks up his bow and beats Blue to correcting his stance.

Aim, lower this time, anchorpoint, aim again. Shoot.

The target shudders as his arrow buries itself just above the collarbone.

“Hey, that was- ! Better! That was better, that was pretty good!” Blue says brightly from behind him. Dream notices that there is some pride there, in the roiling positivity that washes into his senses. But it’s not good enough. That shot could badly injure many monsters and humans, but it wouldn’t even land on a skeleton. More importantly, it wouldn’t stop the people he needs it to stop.

He needs another chance.

His fingers twitch.

He just needs another chance.

Without another thought, Dream pulls pride from the air and weaves it into the ammunition he is more accustomed to wielding. The energy sizzles against the ill-fitting bow and string, against his ill-fitting face and hands. Blue only has a moment to process it and squeak in protest before he draws.

Aim.

Picture your opponent. Know who you’re trying to fight, and who you’re trying to protect.

He pictures his opponents. He pictures the fight, and he knows it goes like this:

He is losing, and he is losing badly. Ink is stars knows where- probably fighting off Error on his own- and Blue is at his back. His friend is bloodied. He is tired in the way that Dream is, and he is running out of the energy and will to continue deflecting attack after attack.

His friend will die.

He pictures his brother relishing in the terror the thought gives him.

He pictures himself, equally as exhausted to his core, summoning his bow. He scrambles to claw at any remaining optimism he can find. Light bends around his hands, sunbeams becoming weapons weapons weapons in a breath.

And he draws.

Inhale. Exhale. Anchor aim shoot.

He lets it fly.

The arrow flickers, but strikes true.

He pictures the light tearing through his brother’s body. He hears the sickly crack of bone, and he knows that sound, knows that sound. He knows it in himself, in his enemies, in his allies, in his brother. He knows the agonizing split of external giving way to marrow, staining the ground for as long as he will walk on it. He nocks another arrow.

He hears his brother’s wail of pain in a voice that doesn’t belong to this time. He will never stop hearing it. They are so young. He nocks another arrow.

He hears his brother’s teammates- friends? family? - shouting something he doesn’t process. The sound is swept up in the hiss of sun eating through the fabric of his gloves, burn against his fingertips, burn against his wrist. There’s a line of charred bone where the light brushes against his jaw. Maybe they want him to stop. He’ll never know. He nocks another arrow.

He hears Blue make some horrified, strangled sound at the gore he must be seeing. He wants Dream to stop. He doesn’t know what to do. He nocks another arrow.

Everything in him screams at him to stop, cries that this is enough, this has to be enough. But he doesn’t stop. Because this is what is expected of him. This is what he has to do. He crumbles, mirror image to his brother save for the snapping of bone, and falls to hands and knees with shallow breath. This is how it will go. This is what he will have to do.

This is what you will have to do.

“Dream, can you hear me?”

Are you ready?

“Look at me.”

Will you be able to live with yourself after it is done?

“Dream.”

There’s hands on his wrists. Gloved thumbs brush over fresh burns. He twitches away at the graze to his injury and the hands immediately flinch back.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Can I touch you?”

And oh, that’s Blue. That’s his friend.

He nods.

“…Okay.” Blue, careful to avoid singed fingertips, takes one of Dream’s hands and presses it in a fist to the center of his chest. He holds the other lightly. “Here, breathe with me. We’ll- … We can count by fives. Breathe in and hold for five. Okay?” At the lack of affirming response from Dream, he takes an uneasy breath of his own and continues anyway.

“One.” Inhale.

“Two.” Anchor.

“Three.” Aim.

“Four.” Shoot.

“Five. Good, that’s good.” Exhale.

Blue repeats it again after a moment, then again, tracing circles onto the back of Dream’s hand and patiently waiting for him to collect himself. Somewhere along the way, his breathing evens out and he has the sense to stutter a quiet “Sorry.” for the scene he’s just caused. Blue simply shushes him and keeps counting.

Dream’s gaze wanders up, past Blue, to where the target is. Or was.

The wall and floor surrounding the figure is charred black in spiking patterns, chunks of stone from the former crumbling down to frame the scene. What used to be a humanoid structure is no longer anything recognizable, knocked back into a small cavity driven into the wall. A majority of the outer material is melted, revealing its hollow interior. The smell of burnt plastic engulfs the room.

He stares like he could burn more holes into the thing if he tries.

He’s been looking for a long time before Blue notices. He furrows a brow in concern for a moment before he follows Dream’s eyes to the carnage over his shoulder and disconnects their hands to block his face from the stench. A blankness takes over his friend’s face, cold dread settling over the room. He glances back at Dream with an unidentifiable expression.

Blue’s arrow, now more of a short stick than anything, is still stuck firmly into the target’s barely intact shoulder.

“…We’ll try again tomorrow, yeah?”

Dream breathes.

“Okay.”

#fics #undertale au #utmv #utmv au #dream!sans #dream sans #swap!sans #swap sans #undertale fanfiction #fanfic #nightmare!sans #nightmare sans #tagging him too since hes mentioned a lot #anyways . very glad this is finally Done

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