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aquaticmercy · 9 days ago

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Waste a Moment / Part 6

Summary : Bucky had always kept his distance, but seeing you get hurt on a mission changed everything. For the first time, he has a chance to start over with you.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : Mentions of food. Cursing. Memory loss. Head injury. Reader used to work in a museum.

Requested by : @remoony

Word count : 2.7k

Note : I am a sucker for slow burn, I apologise. Best friend!Yelena is in this one! Enjoy! (I’m still uploading every other day!)

Series Masterlist

“Live Wire”

Thursday.

Rejoining the training sessions was… something.

It felt strange, like stepping into a role that was made for you, if only you were better.

You knew (or at least everyone told you) that you were a part of this team, that you were once strong and capable. But now you couldn’t recall why or how.

The familiar scent of the training facility, the clang of metal, the faint buzz of conversation from otherworldly superheroes— it felt like a stage, and you were just an actor.

Every step forward felt like the foundation beneath you would crumble any second. The memories of missions and battles shared with these people were just another fog you couldn’t seem to see through.

The visits from your teammates, your friends, were nice. They just didn’t help.

The memories weren't coming back, so they were never gonna help.

But you weren’t here to dwell on the gaps in your mind— you were here to train and fight.

Bucky and Clint took the lead in helping you regain your strength, your muscle memory, and your instincts. They started with the basics: hand-to-hand combat, endurance sessions, and weapons training.

I should be able to do this with my eyes closed, you told yourself.

The reality was far more frustrating.

You found yourself stumbling over things that should come naturally. A punch that should have landed easily got lost in the air. A knife that once felt like an extension of your arm now felt slippery in your grip.

You missed, you faltered.

Each time you failed, a small voice in the back of your mind whispered: You’re not the hero you used to be. You are not who they say you were.

Every mistake seemed to put a distance between who you were and who you are now. You wanted to scream, to lash out, to demand answers from your fractured memory. But no matter how hard you pushed yourself, the pieces never came back together.

And yet, Bucky was patient.

You weren’t blind to the soft and protective looks he gave you.

“You’re doing great,” he said after a particularly gruelling session. He handed you a towel as you sat on the bench, panting in short breaths and dripping with sweat.

Your brows furrowed. “I missed half my shots, Buck. That’s not great.”

He crouched down in front of you, holding your hand in ressurance. “It’s only your first day.”

Friday.

The second day felt a little less foreign, though the frustration was still there. You walked into the training room with muscles sore from yesterday’s efforts, but there was a quiet determination there now.

Clint was already there, arms crossed after you took a short water break. He gave you a small, reassuring nod. “Ready for round two?” he asked, his voice warm.

You nodded.

The drill began, and while you still missed more than you hit, something felt different today. You were far from perfect, but every punch and every kick felt a little sharper.

Wednesday.

It wasn’t long until you began to see real progress. The hits landed more frequently, your stance more grounded, your reflexes sharper.

This morning, during an intense sparring session, you felt everything click into place. The sound of fists meeting flesh, the heavy breaths, the rhythm of footwork— all of it felt like a dance you once knew all the steps to.

Then it happened.

With a swift motion, you knocked Bucky off balance. His eyes widened briefly in surprise as he stumbled back, hitting the mat with a soft thud.

For a moment, you stared at him, stunned, your hands still raised in a defensive position.

“Did I just—”

Bucky looked up at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was a rare sight of pure joy that made your heart skip. “You did,” he chuckled, brushing himself off as he stood.

A wide grin spread across your face, the rush of adrenaline making your heart race.

You had not believed Clint when he said muscle memory would kick in eventually, but now you might.

Friday.

Over the week, you started throwing yourself deeper into training. At times, it bordered on obsession. The confusion, the gaps in your memory, they hurt in a way you couldn’t quite explain, so you drowned yourself in the physical pain of training to distract yourself.

Working with Rhodey and Bruce became your daily escape.

Together, they taught you new tactics and strategies, methods that felt both familiar and foreign at the same time.

They were cautious at first, as if handling fragile glass. But when you kept pushing, they began to push back, giving you a challenge they knew you were ready for.

You noticed the shift in their eyes— recognition, even respect.

Each combat session left you drenched in sweat and aching everywhere, but there was a satisfaction in the exhaustion.

It gave you purpose.

Monday.

After a particularly gruelling training session, you collapsed onto the edge of the mat. Sweat dripped from your forehead as you tried to catch your breath. Every muscle in your body welt like it was on fire, reminding you just how much work it took to push past the limits of your body and mind.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Rhodey heading your way. With a half smile, he tossed a towel to you.

"You're starting to look like the old you," he teased encouragingly.

You smiled softly, wiping the sweat from your face. "I don’t feel like her yet," you admitted.

It was true. The person you once were seemed so distant, like a ghost you couldn’t quite reach. “I don't think I ever will.” You said. “Not entirely.”

Rhodey sat down beside you, leaning forward. He rested his elbows on his knees.

"You don’t have to be," he said, "If anything, you’re better."

Better. Could that really be true?

Friday.

You were in the middle of a heated sparring session with Yelena. Like always, she wasn’t going easy on you. Her precise movements kept you on your toes. She pushed you to your limits, and that was exactly what you needed.

Every dodge, every counterattack she made was technically perfect, and you had to stay extra focused just to keep up.

She ducked under one of your punches, twisting her body smoothly as she lashed out with a quick kick aimed at your ribs. But this time, you saw it coming.

You blocked the strike with your arm, feeling the force of the impact reverberate in your bones. Without hesitation, you swept low, catching Yelena off-guard. Her feet left the ground as she fell hard onto the mat.

For a second, she stared up at you in surprise.

Then, she broke into laughter.

“Maybe you are back,” she said between chuckles, the happiest you’ve seen her since you returned back to training.

You couldn’t help but smile as you reached down to offer her a hand. "Maybe," you said, pulling her to her feet.

She was beaming at you.

She was proud of you.

Yelena dusted herself off. “You used to do that move all the time,” she said absentmindedly. “It always caught me off guard.”

You tried to search for the memory she described, but there was only emptiness where it should have been.

Your smile faltered. “I… I don’t remember that,” you admitted quietly.

Yelena’s eyebrows softened.

“Look,” Yelena said, nudging your shoulder lightly. “I’m not going to get all sentimental on you, but you’re still kicking my ass. That’s a good sign.”

You managed a small laugh, shaking your head. “I guess so.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t just a teasing grin this time— it was softer, more understanding. “Besides, who needs the old stuff when we can make better memories?”

Her optimism was contagious. You found yourself nodding, though the ache in your chest hadn’t entirely disappeared.

Yelena glanced at you. “What do you say we grab some lunch? I can remind you of all the stories you’ve conveniently forgotten.”

You laughed, the sound coming easier now. “I’m in.”

—

Lunch with Yelena started off light and easy. You both sat in a small diner, the kind of place with cosy booths and mismatched mugs. For the first time in a while, you felt a little more relaxed. The sparring session had left you tired, but pleasantly so.

“So, do you remember the time I convinced you to try those disgusting energy bars Natasha used to swear by?” Yelena started, a sly grin spreading across her face as she picked at her food. “You gagged so hard you nearly threw up.”

You blinked, trying to dig into a memory again, but it came up blank. “I… can’t say I do,” you said with an apologetic shrug, though her laughter made you smile, despite the emptiness.

“It’s fine,” Yelena waved it off. “Just trust me, you looked ridiculous.” Her grin widened, enjoying the memory enough for both of you.

Yelena launched into a couple more stories, trying to paint you vivid pictures of missions and moments that felt so far away. You could hear the fondness in her voice as she spoke, you could see the gleam in her eyes when she talked about how you used to bicker with her over ridiculous things, like the right way to disarm someone or who was faster at sneaking through security. Of course she claimed she was always right.

It made you feel… connected, even if the memories were missing. It gave you hope that maybe, you could rebuild these relationships from the ground up.

Just as you started to feel more settled, Yelena’s tone shifted ever so slightly. She leaned back, her voice casual.

“So,” she began slowly, “how’s it going with Bucky? I heard you’re still staying with him.”

It seemed to come out of nowhere.

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. Brushing it off as bluntness, you quickly recovered.

The warmth in your voice was unmistakable. “He’s been incredible.”

Yelena raised an eyebrow, her fork pausing mid-air. “Incredible?”

There was something about her tone—something you couldn’t quite place—but you didn’t think too much of it. Instead, you nodded, your mind drifting back to Bucky.

“He’s sweet,” you continued, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Caring.” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I don’t think I’d be managing as well as I have without him.”

Yelena’s gaze didn’t move. If anything, her eyes seemed to narrow slightly.

“Interesting,” she murmured, more to herself than to you.

You didn’t catch the shift in her demeanour, too lost in your own thoughts about Bucky. But Yelena’s mind was racing, almost as quickly as her heart.

She knew Bucky well.

She had seen him around you before your memory loss, had seen the way he’d acted toward you— distant, cold, even cruel at times.

Bucky had always been in love with you; that had always been obvious to Yelena. But he had never let himself get close to you. He didn’t think he deserved you, didn’t think he was worthy of anything or anyone good in his life.

Yelena had watched as he pushed you away time and time again, putting up walls whenever you got too close. She’d seen the way he kept you out, how he said things that were hurtful things that had made you question whether he even liked you at all.

Yelena remembered that night with perfect clarity.

It had been the night before everything changed— before the mission that took your memories.

She could still see the way you looked when you knocked on her apartment door that night— tired, heartbroken. Your knock had been soft, hesitant, like you didn’t really want to be there but had nowhere else to go.

Yelena had opened the door to find you standing there, looking like a shell of yourself.

“He said he didn’t want my company.” Your voice had been shaky, small, barely above a whisper. “Bucky said he felt like he couldn’t breathe around me.”

Yelena had rolled her eyes, more out of frustration with Bucky than anything else.

“Boys,” she had muttered under her breath, motioning for you to come inside, not knowing then that this was the last time she would see you like this—the last time you’d even remember the pain he had caused.

You had slumped down onto her couch, hands trembling slightly as you wiped your eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling.

She had seen this pattern before.

Bucky pushed you away, lashed out, cutting himself off from you just when you were trying to get close.

“I don’t know why he does this,” you had said, your voice cracking. “All I do is try. All I ever do is fucking try, and he just… he just hates me. I just want him to at least tolerate me. We work together, don't we?”

That had gotten to Yelena the most—that wounded look in your eyes, the disbelief in your voice.

You had slumped back further into the couch. “I swear,” you had muttered that day, voice thick with exhaustion and anger. “I’m not gonna fucking try anymore. I’m done.”

Yelena hadn’t known what to say back then. Part of her had wanted to tell you to forget about him, to let Bucky sort out his own mess, but she’d known you too well. She’d seen the way you looked at him—the way you cared deeply, despite everything.

She had settled for sitting beside you in silence.

She had never imagined that the next day, everything would spiral out of control—that the mission you went on would end with you in a hospital bed, your mind wiped clean of so much of what made you you.

And now, watching you across the table, smiling so easily as if Bucky had always been this kind version of himself, Yelena felt that same frustration.

She wanted to tell you what he’d done, how he had pushed you away—hurt you. But looking at you now, seeing the way you spoke about him with admiration, Yelena bit her tongue. She couldn’t destroy that peace for you.

Not yet.

But what is this?

Bucky was suddenly different? You were telling her that he was sweet and caring? That he was doting on you? It didn’t make sense. Why was Bucky suddenly so attentive, so affectionate? What changed?

Now that you didn’t remember, why was he this perfect version of himself, the one you had always wanted him to be?

Yelena couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.

Was Bucky taking advantage of the fact that you couldn’t remember the way he’d treated you before?

Yelena took a deep breath. She offered you a small, tight smile, masking the anger bubbling beneath her skin.

She would confront Bucky eventually, but she would give him time to come clean on his own.

But she wouldn’t let him rewrite the past just because you couldn’t remember it.

Not when it was her best friend.

Not when it was you.

-to be continued…

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artists-ally · 1 year ago

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{Train Wreck Pt. 2 Teaser}

Sooooo the next part for Train Wreck miiiggghhtttt be 12,000 words and I'm not done yet ahahaha- time for a little teaser!! Enjoy!

tagging: @librafairy @needylilgal022 @blessthepizzaman @cyrygher

Pt. 1 here!!

~~~~~~

“Now, stand here and smile.”

“That’s it?”

“For my sake, yes, that’s it. Don’t talk to anyone, just be quiet,” Cassian squared his shoulders as he stood next to Rhys and Feyre. Nesta was on his left, me on his right.

“Eye eye, captain buzz-kill.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You certainly do like getting under his skin,” Azriel’s voice chilled my spine.

“It certainly is another one of my favorite hobbies,” I responded, smiling as a woman and her older husband walked by, shaking Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel’s hands.

“Along with the pick pocketing and hot-wiring?”

Just to prove how fucking capable I was, I carefully reached down, effortlessly removing his watch from his left wrist. I held it up in front of his face, dangling it like a carrot. His eyes widened and he looked from his empty wrist to the watch in my hand.

“A rolex? A little… basic, don’t you think? Certainly this one could sell for a few hundred thousand?”

“Give that back,” he lowered his voice, and I smirked.

“Finders keepers.”

“Now.” He was so easily ruffled. I had found a weakness of his; he did not like it when I touched his stuff.

I placed the hunk of metal into his open palm and he put it on with a clenched jaw. “Insult my skills again and I’ll make sure the cash is deposited into my bank account before you even realize the watch is missing.”

“You’re quick, I’ll admit that,” he still whispered. “But we both know that you hide behind a mask to cover up the fact that you lack any level of human decency.”

Now that fucking stung. “Who the hell are you to tell me about human decency? And what the hell happened to the whole ‘we got off on the wrong foot’ shit? Your words, not mine.”

The muscles in his jaw clenched as well as his fists. It was immediately wiped away as another guest approached. But when he was gone, his mouth was open again.

“Fine, you got me there. Are you having a good time?”

“Do you honestly think I am?”

“I honestly don’t care,” he scoffed, eyes locking with mine when I stuck my tongue out at him. “You seriously need a lesson in etiquette.”

“And you seriously need a lesson in how to not be a douchebag,” I quipped, catching the attention of the couple that walked in front of us. I mouthed a ‘sorry’.

Azriel’s shoulders shook with a suppressed laugh. “You really don’t know how to be subtle, do you?” “It’s not exactly in my play book,” I responded, plastering a fake smile on my lips. “And for the record, I know how to have some class.”

“You sure? Because you look more like you belong across the street.” He was referring to Midnight’s Shadow. And he was not subtle about the way he looked at my outfit. As much as I didn’t want to shiver at the gaze, I couldn’t help it. It made me feel guilty, especially when I saw Mor quickly stepping into line next to Azriel on the other side.

“And I do. I’m far better at drinking and dancing than I am at pretending to be interested in this fucking sleep fest.”

Azriel grumbled another laugh, his voice deep. “The festivities are actually quite entertaining. All the old ladies flock to the bingo room the second it’s open. And the poker tournament is always fun to watch.”

“Do you have to already be registered to play?” My devious little brain was thinking about getting in on the action.

“No, why?” He asked.

“Because I might want to join them,” I shrugged. “What else is there to do?”

“You can play poker? I’ve barely seen you able to control your hair let alone your facial expressions,” Azriel jabbed, gesturing to the mess at the back of my head.

“I have an amazing bluff. See? My poker face is already on, I’m standing here pretending to be civil with you when I really want to kick you to the fucking ground.”

Maybe a touch too hard. But his lips curled into a smile and I didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to my mouth. Again. “Such a wicked, testy thing.”

#train wreck #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x ofc #acotar fanfic

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trailblazethegalaxy · 7 months ago

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Damaged ~ *Luka*

Summary: Luka doesn't mind being a cyborg, at least that's what he tells you. But his insecurities continue to pile up when you can't see until he finally lets it all out...

Pairing: Luka X G/N!Reader

Genre: Angstyish Drabble

Word Count: 944

Warning: Swearing & insecurities

Masterlist

"DAMN IT!" Your head whipped around to see Luka through his wrench across the room.

You sigh and shake your head. "Don't do that. You'll break something."

"It's already broken." He muttered, burying his head in his hand. His other arm was propped up on the table. It looked worse for wear but that was because he was always too hard on the machinery.

"Still..." You mumble to yourself before carefully walking over to see what the problem was. "Do you need my help?"

He looked up at you and gave you a small smile. "Please?"

You nod, returning his smile. "Of course. I'm always happy to help."

As Luka sat back in his chair to watch you work, you carefully assessed each gear and wiring mechanism in his arm. It was definitely in need of some major repair to the point it would be easier to build him another arm with all the upgrades he needs to be successful in the fighting cage.

You glance over at him and he sighs. "That bad?"

"What happened? You're always so careful."

He shook his head. "Just some bullies that wouldn't go down. That's all."

"That's not the full story." You shook your head and folded your arms over your chest. "Please, Luka. Tell me the truth. I can't fix this problem if I don't know the whole story."

Again, he sighs and looks away, vaguely surveying the workshop. "I went a couple rounds extra during training for the past few weeks. I just need to be on top of my game for the championship next weekend."

"Luka..."

"This is why I didn't want to tell you." He gives a small laugh. "You always give me that look and say my name in such a disappointing way."

"Well!" You scoff, exasperated. "What do you want me to say? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to tell you you're right and you should tear up both arms as you fight? Because I can't do that Luka! I won't!"

He shook his head and you noticed his hand flex, almost reaching for yours. But he holds back. "No, I don't want you to do that either."

"Then what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know."

His voice sounds so defeated you can't help but kneel in front of him, touching his knee. He looks into your eyes and you can see the unshed tears sparkle in his eyes. You sigh.

"Tell me what's wrong." You whisper, your thumb softly rubbing his knee. "I'm your friend, Luka. I want to help you when you need it. I want to be someone you can rely on. Please, let me in so I can help you."

"I don't want to be a burden."

You knew that. But hearing him say that made you flinch. He said it with such conviction and resolution. He believed whole-heartedly he was a burden. And you knew that simply was not true. Luka was never a burden, and nothing he could say or do would make you think otherwise.

"You're not." You shake your head. "I refuse to believe it. You are not a burden to me or anyone. You never have been and you never will be. End of story."

"But-"

"What part of “end of story” do you not understand?" You shoot back, an attempt at a playful smile dancing on your lips. "I'm serious, Luka! You are strong and kind-hearted and one of the best guys I know. You are an incredible asset to Wildfire and you are a hero to all of the children of the Belobog Underworld. How could anyone like that be a burden? No. You are one of the best people in this dank underworld. No one holds a candle to your upstanding character and I never, ever, ever want you to think you are a burden ever again."

A tear slid down Luka's cheek and you quickly swept it away. He chuckled as you did so. "Jeez, you got me crying like a child..."

"It's okay to cry." You assure him and glance at his mechanical arm. "It shows you're not all metal and wires. It proves there is still a heart in there, beating with love and kindness."

He chuckles before pulling you into a hug. "Thank you. Really. I don't know what I would do without you."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not going anywhere." You whisper into his hair. "I love you, Luka."

You can feel him freeze at your words and a drop of ice cold panic floods your veins. Perhaps you overstepped. Perhaps you said too much. You should take your words back, even though you meant them.

"I love you too. I love you so much, you have no idea."

You sighed, your body relaxing with relief. "I'm glad we both feel the same way."

"Me too."

After relishing the moment for a while longer, you finally step back and nod towards his still damaged mechanical arm. "We should really get to work on repairing this hunk of junk."

"Hey! It's not junk!" He defensively cradled the machinery. "It's special!"

"Says the man who was swearing at it and beating it earlier." You tease back.

"Touché." Luka laughs before holding out his hand. "How about we both work on this together? I don't think I can solve this problem on my own."

"Of course! We have to make sure you're not damaged for your championship fight next weekend." You nod and take his hand.

He shakes his head. "Not damaged. Never damaged. Just in need of healing."

"Well then, let me help heal you."

#Honkai: Star Rail #Honkai: Star Rail Fanfiction #Honkai: Star Rail Drabble #Anime #Anime Fanfiction #Anime Drabble #Wildfire #Luka #Luka X Reader #Luka Fanfiction #Luka Drabble #Luka Angst #Mechanic #Mechanic AU #Drabble #Angst

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wakebymoonsleepbysun · 1 year ago

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Untitled DJ x Reader Soulmate AU - Ch 2

EDIT: This is now being updated on ao3!

Throwing this up here for now. I have an ao3 but I don't know that I want this to be the first thing posted in it. Also it's in need of editing because the first chapter is in a different tense than the second chapter because I'd intended it to be a flashback-ish thing but that's not really clear in the finished writing. Alas.

Might delete these posts when it this story eventually makes its way to ao3, but we'll see.

[ Ch 1 ] [ Ch 2 - You are here ]

CHAPTER 2

It was either the best time to start or the worst time. That’s what your mentor had told you as she walked you through the atrium towards the West Arcade.

Your predecessor had quit unexpectedly, which is why there had been such a fast turnaround to get you in the door. And why they don’t have that many resources to devote to training you. Your mentor is not unsympathetic. She’s at least managed to convince the upper management to let the dance hall stay closed for at least a week, giving you plenty of time to get your feet under you.

“You’ll know more about DJ Music Man than the rest of us by the time you’re done, at least,” she chuckles, giving you a supportive clap on the shoulder before leaving you in the dance hall with only a cart of supplies, a tablet full of documentation, and your own gumption.

You nod uncertainly as she leaves. You slip through the small opening in the metal shield that blocks the dance hall from the rest of the West Arcade. The sound squeaky wheel on your cart echoes through the empty space.

And there he is. The gigantic mechanical DJ Music Man, the biggest animatronic in the world. He lays on his stage, apparently in rest mode, since he doesn’t seem to register your presence as you approach.

You frown at his broken eye. Even without the lights up, you can see a few wires behind the shattered glass have been pulled loose somehow.

You climb onto the stage, circling the animatronic and surveying the damage. You’d been briefed on it of course. Broken eye, broken elbow joint, lots of graffiti…but you still wanted to take a look at it yourself before you got started.

You regard the elbow joint, figuring that would be a good thing to fix first. Between this, the eye, and the damage to the stage, you’re shocked at how much a group of kids can damage such a gigantic piece of equipment. But that’s what a few lucky shots will do, you suppose.

“They really did a number on you, huh?” you say, stepping towards his elbow and lightly touching the joint.

DJ’s optics switch on abruptly as his head shoots up. Those words! Those sacred words! Somehow he’d convinced himself he’d never actually hear them. He’d been aware of you coming in, but hadn’t bothered to actually look at you.

Now you find yourself scrambling back from a flurry of arms and hands as the DJ rights himself, dragging his bad arm as he quickly turns to see who spoke to him.

As his massive head swings toward you, you vaguely register a look of alarm on his face at the same time you register a distinct lack of ground beneath one of your feet.

Your stomach jumps into your throat as you fall backwards off the stage. You close your eyes, already imagining the eight foot drop that’s going to see you land flat on your back if you’re lucky…or on the back of your head if you're unlucky.

But it’s not the hard dance floor you hit. It’s something soft and padded. Your heart is hammering as you slowly open your eyes.

Once again you’re staring at the face of the DJ, now more worried than alarmed.

He caught you, you realize. You’re in his hands.

“Th-Thanks…” you manage, your voice thin as you resist the urge to peer over the edge of his gloved hand. You can’t tell how high up he’s holding you, and you realize you don’t want to know. Just pretend you’re only a few feet up. No more than that.

He scoots back, his bad arm scraping against the stage. He gently sets you down, but keeps his hands cupped behind you like a wall. You hope he’s only doing that to keep you from stumbling off the stage again.

DJ tilts his head, looking at you in concern.

You glance nervously at the massive gloved hands behind you. “I-I’m…okay. I won’t fall off again…” you say. Maybe he’s running some kind of safety protocol. That kind of thing usually requires some kind of positive affirmation from the human to release the robot from their obligations.

It seems to work, and his hands lower, coming to rest on either side of you. You had expected him to go back to his resting state, but he just continues watching you. Expectantly? Curiously? Despite being capable of emoting to some degree--moving his eyebrows, shuttering his eyes, and changing his mouth shape--his current expression is hard to read.

Probably because DJ barely knows what to think himself. He’d just been suddenly presented with his soulmate, and before he could process that revelation, you’d been in his hands. Though you hadn’t seemed too happy about it. He’s well aware that most humans wouldn’t be happy to find themselves in the hands of a giant robot, of course…but…

But what? What had he thought your first meeting would be like? He had already accepted that there was no way you’d know he was your soulmate when you met.

You finally find your voice, and manage to stammer out your name. The DJ perks, smiling and leaning forward eagerly, as if waiting for you to tell him more.

You have a lovely name, at least in DJ’s mind. It’s the name of his soulmate, he was destined to adore it!

You don’t bother to ask his name. You know it already, and you also have no reason to assume he puts much weight on the ritual of introductions. So you continue, “I’m…the new tech. Here to fix you up?”

Realizing he was encroaching on your space, he pulls back slightly, nodding at your statement.

You smile awkwardly up at him. Your mentor and the other techs made it sound like he wouldn’t move until you told him to. You step around his head to get to his arm, only for him to start circling with you, keeping you in his view.

“H-Hey!” you say, surprised as his bad elbow was dragged away from you.

DJ froze immediately, lowering his body to the ground and staring at you guiltily.

You frown wonderingly at the expression. Did he feel chastised? A robot shouldn’t feel anything…but you felt a bit guilty that he was programmed to act chastised for being scolded. Not that you had meant to scold him, exactly.

“S-Sorry…” you say, holding up your hands. “I was just surprised. Th-They uh…said you mostly…held still…”

He didn’t respond, continuing to watch you. You’d also been told he had no voice, so his lack of response was hardly surprising. Maybe he just didn’t understand what you wanted from him.

“I’m going to look at your elbow now, okay?” you say. You wait for him to tilt his head in a nod before you once again move around him to get to the broken joint. This time he stays put, though turns his head as far as he can to watch you from the corner of his eye.

“I know you probably want your eye fixed,” you say, taking a screwdriver from your pocket and starting to undo the fastenings of the purple orb joint of his elbow. “But I think every time you try to move your elbow, it gets worse. So I want to at least look at it first.”

It feels more natural to speak conversationally, instead of giving clipped orders like the voice commands you would give to a digital assistant. The DJ has a face. He emotes. Even though you know he’s just an AI inside a machine, the urge to talk to him as if he’s a human is winning out.

You suppose it’s harmless. Besides, you were already told that if you’re ever in front of customers, you need to “stay in character”, and talk to the animatronics as if they’re your friends. “Because everyone’s your friend at Freddy Fazbear’s!”

The DJ nods again, and you take that to mean the information is of some value to whatever processes he was running in that AI of his.

You get the casing off, tossing it aside. No need to be careful with it--you can already see it’s damaged beyond repair. You’ll have to send for another one from Parts and Services.

You flinch a bit as you look at the joint mechanism. It’s worse than you thought. The stage light falling on the joint had warped it considerably, and apparently DJ’s frantic movements afterwards had actually caused the connecting wires to get tangled in the shards of the warped joint.

“Hm…looks like these wires are going to have to be cut off and replaced. Do you think you can straighten your arm enough so that the joint is on the ground? That’ll make it easier for me to work on.” The bend in his elbow currently had the joint slightly above your eye level.

DJ grimaces, both from the bad news and the command. But he nods, albeit with a slight bit of reluctance. His body shifts as if he’d taken a breath to steady himself, and then he slowly begins to straighten his broken elbow.

He gazes blankly ahead, seeming focused as his brow knits and his lips press together in a grimace. If he could sweat, surely a sheen of it would be coating his forehead now.

He’s only lowered the joint a couple feet when you say, “W-Wait…” That look on his face…as if he’s in pain. That…can’t be right.

DJ stops, looking at you questioningly.

You hold up your hands, your fingers flexing slightly as you consider your question. “Wh-Why do you…look like you’re in pain…?” you ask.

DJ’s head tilts slightly, one brow raising.

You flinch. Of course he can’t answer. Stick to yes or no questions. “...Are you in pain?”

DJ frowns slightly before nodding. Nobody has asked that before. Not even Karter, though DJ had assumed that was because Karter already knew he could feel pain, and DJ had gotten the impression Karter had at least tried to avoid causing him pain.

You blanch. You’d heard of some robots being given pain sensors for various reasons…usually as an incentive to keep them from damaging themselves, or as an exercise in trying to make them more “alive”. But the DJ didn’t seem like the type of robot that should have them.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer out. “Th-They didn’t tell me you felt pain. I-If I’d known…”

DJ’s expression softens. You’re worried? About him? He’s flattered, but…he also hates to see you so distressed. There’s no need for you to be upset…as you said, you didn’t know. He lifts one of his good arms, lightly brushing the back of one finger against your shoulder.

Your mind had already drifted to trying to figure out the least painful way to treat--fix--the DJ’s broken joint, so when you felt something brush against your shoulder you jumped slightly.

“Wh-What?” you ask, eying the large hand somewhat nervously. You’ve never worked with a robot this large before. Not even close. You can’t help but be a little intimidated.

He regards you silently. He looks worried, though it doesn’t occur to you he would be worried about you.

You try to smile encouragingly as you pat one of his fingers. “It’ll be alright. It’ll hurt for a bit, but you’ll feel better afterwards. But I’ll try to keep it as painless as possible.”

DJ pauses, but then forces a small smile of his own. His lack of voice had never bothered him before. He had never needed to say all that much. The few sounds he’d adapted (yes, no, and his querying chirp), along with occasional pointing or waving had always gotten across whatever point he’d wanted to make. At least until Karter’s last day. And now this.

You didn’t understand he was trying to comfort you. That he didn’t want you to be upset. And he didn’t know how to make that clear. So he had to simply let it go.

Your own smile fades just a touch, as you get the sense that you didn’t actually address whatever his concern was. But you don’t know what to ask to prompt him to clarify. So like him, you have to simply let it go.

“Alright, let’s see…” you say to yourself, lightly resting a hand on his upper arm as you examine the broken joint. You glance over at him. “It doesn’t hurt if I rest my hand here, does it?” you ask.

He’s resting his chin on one of his good hands, still looking at you sideways with a look you can only describe as fondness. You must be seeing things; he has no reason to be fond of you. Maybe he’s just…friendly? But he shakes his head no, so you turn your attention back to his elbow.

DJ’s surprised you thought that gentle touch would hurt…but more than that, he’s moved that you even thought to ask. That you’re so worried about his comfort even though you’ve just met.

“Okay, I’m going to need to remove the casing on your upper arm here,” you say, patting the casing where your hand was already resting. “Will that hurt you?”

He shakes his head again. That, at least, is what you expected. Generally unscrewing and removing swappable components didn’t cause pain in robots. Making routine maintenance painful was, at best, missing the point behind giving robots pain sensors in the first place or, at worst, just plain cruel. You tended to lean towards the latter. Though you rarely admitted it--calling any treatment of robots “cruel” was controversial and generally not something the higher ups who owned said robots liked to hear.

You began unscrewing the small screws that lined the casing. You had to hunch your shoulders at a slightly awkward angle, but you’re sure it hurts less for you than it would for him if you asked him to keep moving the broken elbow. Still, you occasionally have to straighten up, roll your shoulders, and crack your neck before continuing your work.

DJ watches this with some amount of guilt. He appreciates that you’re trying to spare him pain, but he wishes it didn’t come at the cost of your comfort. If he could speak he would tell you to stop a moment, and he’d just deal with the pain of repositioning his arm. But he knows that if he starts moving unexpectedly you’ll fret over it, or maybe even think he’s being uncooperative.

The casing is starting to come loose, so you have to hold it in place with one hand while you unfasten the last few screws. This casing is undamaged, so you don’t want it to crash to the floor or start warping as the weight of the unfixed portion pulls at the screws that are still attached.

You see a movement out of the corner of your eye, and see DJ’s backmost hand reach over your shoulder and hold the casing of his bad arm in place for you.

You glance over at him, letting out an awkward laugh. “Right, you uh…have five other arms, huh?” you say.

He grins charmingly, his eyes closing briefly as he nods.

You quickly turn back to your work, something about the smile leaving you a bit flustered.

After unscrewing the last remaining screws, you keep your hand on the casing, glancing up at DJ. “Okay, I’m going to lift this part here, then you lower your end. This part of the casing seems undamaged, so I wanna keep it that way,” you say with a light smile.

He nods, and together you two carefully open and remove the casing, and you guide him to set it behind him where you won’t trip on it.

“Okay. Now…these wires are going to need to be cut,” you say, lightly tapping the now exposed wires along his upper arm. He’s already flinching before you can ask, but you ask anyway. “I…take it that’ll be painful?”

DJ nods, but waves an arm in a “go ahead” gesture. There’s no way to replace his joint without cutting the wires that are now tangled up in it.

“Will covering the ends help?” you ask.

At his nod, you give a small sigh of relief. You suspected as much, but you’re glad to get confirmation. You make your way off the stage (via the stairs this time) and rummage around in your cart until you find the electrical tape.

From what you understand of robot pain, it’s having the conductive part of the wiring exposed that triggers the pain sensors. A strong incentive for robots not to let their wires become frayed and potentially dangerous. So if you cover the ends with electrical tape shortly after cutting them, that should keep the pain to a minimum.

You climb back onto the stage, wire cutters and tape in hand. “Okay, ready?” you say, readying the cutters.

DJ nods, then quickly closes his eyes and turns away.

Well damn if that isn’t heartbreaking…

You quickly cut the wires, doing your best to ignore the shudder that runs over the DJ’s body. Not out of callousness, of course, but you need to stay focused and get this done as quickly as possible.

You toss the cutters to the floor where they land with a clatter so you can quickly get out the tape and bind the ends of the wires. As you press the ends of the tape down, you glance back up at the DJ. “How’s that feel?” you ask. Remembering the yes/no rule, you add, “Does it feel alright?”

His eyes peek open and he nods.

“Alright. Let me detach the joint…then I think you’ll be feeling a bit better,” you say, giving him an encouraging smile.

He nods, then turns away again. The sight of his exposed endoskeleton and the wires hanging limply from it, as well as the ruined joint were uncomfortable to look at…but despite that, your kindness was keeping his spirits high. He smiled softly, letting you work.

You unscrewed the bearings that were still intact, only to flinch when you realize some the joint is too mangled to detach conventionally. You’ll need the mini circular saw.

“Uh, hey, DJ Music Man?” you ask.

DJ glances back at you, a bit surprised to hear you use his full name. Though he supposes you have no reason to be as informal with him as Karter was.

“Can you put a hand under here?” you gesture to his forearm. “I need to get the saw, but the joint is a bit unstable right now and I don’t want the weight to pull on you too much.”

DJ nods, once again graciously using his backmost hand to hold up his arm while you fetch what you need.

You don a pair of work gloves and safety glasses, and then you’re back to work, sawing off the bolts too damaged to remove any other way. In a moment, the last bolt breaks free.

…Leaving DJ holding his own severed arm.

You didn’t think this through.

You quickly set the saw aside, pushing the glasses onto the top of your head as you stand up. “Here, DJ Music Man, lemme take that…I-I’m sorry, I…I wasn’t thinking when I asked you to--”

You take his arm, grunting as you lower it to the ground. It’s not exactly light. You glance up at him. He doesn’t seem all that troubled, in fact, he almost looks worried as he cants his head.

You let out a nervous laugh. “I-I…guess you’re not…that squeamish, huh?”

DJ shrugs his first set of arms, then lifts a hand and wobbles it in a “so-so” gesture. Ah. So, perhaps he is not exactly unphased by having his arm removed, but it’s still far from traumatizing? At least you hope it’s far from traumatizing.

You remove the gloves, tossing them down next to the saw and wiping your hands on your pantlegs. “Is it…less painful now, at least?” you ask.

He nods. The pain sensors being triggered by the small bits you had to saw off is far less than what was being triggered by the mangled joint and tangled wires, though even that had been mostly bearable as long as he kept still.

You sigh in relief. “Good,” you say. “Then…I think this is a good time for me to break for lunch. If that’s alright,” you add.

He blinks owlishly, quirking a brow. If it’s alright? With him? You’re…asking his approval for your lunch break? As you continue to watch him expectantly, he finally tilts his head in a nod.

To his continued surprise, you thank him before once again taking the stairs off the stage. When you said you were going to lunch, DJ assumed you were heading to the atrium, or perhaps leaving the ‘Plex entirely. He didn’t expect you to grab a brown paper bag from your personal backpack within the cart, and he certainly didn’t expect you to bring it back on stage.

“I get a little shaky if I forget to eat,” you explain, sitting criss-cross in front of his face. “Nothing too bad,” you say quickly, noting the look of concern on his face. “But…probably not the best when working with wires and such,” you say with a bit of levity.

DJ gives a small nod of understanding, having no other way to respond. He’s only known you a short time but he’s constantly surprised by your kindness towards him. You’re spending your free time with him. Time you could be spending with other employees. Other humans.

But you’re here with him.

You watch as the DJ folds his hands on the stage floor, resting his chin on them and staring at you with a smile that hovers somewhere between fond and dopey. You weren’t expecting him to be so friendly…The pictures you’d seen of him from his performances made him appear a bit more aloof. Usually in those, he wore a cool smile and partially lidded eyes as he focused on his music.

You can only assume he just acts a bit different when he’s not focused on performing.

You eat your sandwich in relative silence, looking over his broken eye as well as whatever other graffiti you can see from where you sit, formulating a rough order of tasks in your head. You wish you had a way to ask his input, so you could fix what’s bothering him most.

“I…don’t suppose you know any ASL?” you say as you pick at your bag of chips.

DJ cants his head slightly. He would have played his querying chirp if the speakers were on.

“American Sign Language?” you clarify.

DJ shakes his head. He knows what sign language is, and even if he didn’t, the term itself is pretty telling.

“Hmm,” you murmur in thought. It’s strange they didn’t give such a complex robot the ability to communicate. Voice boxes aren’t the end-all, be-all of robot communication, of course, but no ASL? No text display? Nothing except nods, gestures, and cute little head tilts?

…You feel a bit rude for thinking of his head tilts as cute, given he wouldn’t need to do them so much if he’d been given a better way to communicate.

“I took some ASL classes in college. But I haven’t used it in years,” you say. “Let’s see…” You set the bag of chips aside, holding up your hands as you prepare to sign. “‘Thank you’, ‘sorry’...uh, ‘yes’, ‘no’...” You smile weakly. “‘Broccoli’,” you speak-sign, with a small laugh. “But I don’t know how useful that one would be to you.”

He grins at that, shaking his shoulders as if laughing. He repeats the signs back to you, and you say the words aloud as he does.

“You learn quick,” you say, leaning back as you look up at him. Your smile turns a bit awkward as you add, “I…guess photographic memory helps with that…”

DJ grins excitedly at you. Your small bit of praise means the world to him. He’s never been complimented like that, not directly to his face anyway. He’s overheard some people on the dance floor complimenting his music and occasionally even his overall design, but nobody ever came up to him and directly told him he was doing well at anything.

And, for the first time, he can actually start to tell you how much it means to him.

“Thank you,” he signs.

You smile up at him. “Sure…” you say.

He twirls a hand in a “go on” gesture.

“More?” you ask. You hold up your hands, pausing briefly to make sure you’re remembering the sign right. “More,” you speak-sign.

“More,” he repeats.

“Well…I guess most people start with the alphabet. You can spell out any words you don’t know the word signs for,” you explain. “Or names,” you add. You spell out your own name, saying each letter as you do.

DJ repeats it perfectly. If he had a heart it would be beating out of his chest right now. He’d never understood that phrase until this moment.

He can say your name. He can call you by your name.

“And D-J-M-U-S-I-C-M-A-N,” you sign.

He repeats it obligingly, then pauses before signing just. “DJ.”

It takes you a moment to realize why he only signed part of his name. “Oh. You…want me to call you DJ? Instead of DJ Music Man?”

DJ nods eagerly, happy that you got it so quickly.

“Um, alright, sure,” you say, a bit bemused. You’re a bit surprised a robot would want a nickname…though maybe it’s less of a nickname and more equivalent to just calling him by his first name, instead of his first and last name. You suppose you’d probably get a similar reaction if you called Freddy “Freddy Fazbear” all the time.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea. Hang on a second,” you say, pulling out your phone. He watches you curiously as you double check your memory of a few signs. “Okay, here we go,” you say, setting your phone aside. “My name is DJ Music Man. Call me DJ,” you speak-sign.

DJ repeats it eagerly. He’s not sure when he’d have the chance or the need to use it…but he’s happy to know it.

“Pleased to meet you, DJ,” you speak-sign.

“Thank you!”

You don’t know why the little exchange has made you so giddy. Maybe the robot’s bright smile is just infectious. But he does also seem…genuinely happy. Excited even, to have a new way of communicating opened up to him.

You crumple your lunch bag and toss it aside. “Back to work,” you announced. “But…maybe sometime I could teach you more signs? If you want?”

DJ nodded eagerly. Of course he wanted to learn more! To be able to have actual, full conversations with you! Conversations about--

About what, exactly?

There’d be time to figure that out later.

#not tagging this for now #because i'm not sure if the world really is ready for such things as pining over giant robot clown spiders #my writing #djmm stereo souls

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subjectnr8 · 2 years ago

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SoapxGhost pt1

Based on my daydream I had about them while watching the first snow here

“Warmin’ yer hands”

Icy wind swept across the grasslands of England, dragging light snowflakes with it. For the past nights, Ghost could watch the snow slowly covering the landscape surrounding them. The days became shorter and shorter, and finally it was cold enough for the snow to not melt during the day. Now, only a few brownish grass patches shone through the snow.

The cold claws of the wind dug themselves into Ghost’s mask and white clouds escaped him, dancing through the chilly air. He huffed, crossing his arms and rubbing his sides to keep himself warm. He has been on night watch the past days, even though it was hardly necessary when they were back at home.

The HQ, even for people who struggle with trust issues, was the safest place someone like Ghost could find. Heavily guarded gates, thick concrete walls with thermal imagers, barbed wire and many more defensive gadgets guaranteed the save slumber the TF141 deserved. Yet, Price had sent him out on night watch.

Taking a deep breath, cold air tickled Ghost’s nostrils. He didn’t mind being alone out here, peacefully watching his surroundings while the snow painted everything into a white masterpiece. Yet, it was hard not to feel like he was missing out when he saw his mates enjoying their time back home.

(And he was freezing his ass off, thanks Price.)

He would never admit his dissatisfaction out loud, he was a soldier after all, and he was keen to do his job well. But seeing Gaz and Soap huddling together and smoking a cigarette, trying to keep themselves from wheezing as the crack jokes, looking totally unprofessional but cozy…

Ghost shook his head and glued his gaze forwards again. He had no time for self-pity. The landscape he memorized through daily jogs and training. The cold wind. The soft noises of his crew going along their business. His name being called out. The cracking of the watchtower as someone climbed up the ladder.

Maybe he had time for self-pity. Because he felt like complaining, cursing, wailing as soon as Soap got into his view. He had his mohawk hidden behind a black bonnet, the white faux fur of his black winter jacket wrapped itself around his neck as he tilted his head, calling Ghost by his name again. Trying to keep his emotions at bay, not calling out how incredibly unfair all this was and how frustrated he was, he just gave Johnny a quick glance.

“Though ye were sleeping”, white clouds accompanied Soap’s words as he spoke. Ghost hummed, his eyes darting back to the snowy grass hills. Soap followed his gaze, his shoulders relaxing at the sight. It has been dark for a few hours by now, stars sparkling through the black sea called sky. Ghost knew a few star constellations, his eyes searching for them as Soap rustled with his jacket next to him.

“Ye don’t want me to take over, aye?” Ghost shook his head, still scared that if he spoke, he might dump all his emotion on his sergeant. “Alright, sir. Talk t’me” Johnny leaned against the railing of the tower, now finally blocking Ghost’s view. He had a hip flask in his hands, screwed the cap open and took a small sip.

Ghost had no other place to stare at besides John in this moment. Snow was stuck in his little beard, the scar over his eye more prominent than usual, the cold making the scared tissue an angry red. Even with the snow falling silently behind Soap, he looked so warm and comfortable. His cheeks slightly red, maybe due to the alcohol in the flask or the wind, Ghost couldn’t really tell. All he could see was Soap, and the warmth he was emitting.

Concerned blue eyes looked back at him, and it took Ghost embarrassingly long to notice he was handed the flask. He took the flask and took a sip, a sweet mix of tea and rum slid down his throat, immediately warming his insides. “Keep it, wuid ye? Keeps ye warm”

“Didn’t you had bourbon?”, Ghost closed the flask, storing it in one of his pockets to keep it safe. Soap snorted, rolled his eyes. “Sir, you are truly ungrateful. Santa’s gonna put ye on his naughty list”

“Oh, I already am. Right below your name, sergeant.” Ghost felt a smile creeping onto his face, denying the cigarette Soap offered him. John just nodded, a smile planted on his amazing lips.

The rum speaking already?

Taken back by his thoughts, Ghost didn’t catch what Soap said while climbing down the ladder again. “Ha?”, he asked after Johnny. As Soap reached the floor, he stretched himself and looked up at Ghost in the tower. “Have a good night, Ghost.”

He watched him leave, disappearing behind a corner on his way to their barracks. Ghost sight, already missing Soaps warm presence. The picture of Soap posing in front of a snowy landscape merged its way into Ghosts mind, but before he could continue this thought he unscrewed the flask again and drank a big sip.

He wasn’t ready to face his feelings tonight. Not today, maybe another.

A/N: Might as well countinue writing this series cause I have lots ideas and Soap still has to take Ghosts hands and warm them up with soft kisses ;)

Pt2 for anyone interested :)

#mw2022 #mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soapghost #call of duty #they are in love #change my mind #warmin' yer hands

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enigmatist17 · 2 years ago

Text

Rising Anger

Part 5 of my Tech Lives series :)

Part 4 and be found here.

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

Crosshair was beginning to get tired of this constant song and dance. Waking with a blinding headache, mouth full of cotton with limbs that felt like beskar, it was too much. However, he could not afford the luxury of resting to recover, his body screaming at him to get up and find Omega. Usually, she was by his side, big eyes full of worry as she’d hold his hand, and give a smile that looked too sad on her face.

This time she wasn’t, she sat in a corner and was trying very hard not to show her tears. A wave of fury washed over the older clone as he forced himself to sit up, and the grunt he made finally got Omega’s attention. Reddened eyes flicker up, and Crosshair feels the urge to murder someone.

Well, more so than he had lately.

“Are you hurt?” Omega shook her head, slowly letting go of her legs as she watched Crosshair wobble across the room. He’s a little bit steadier when he kneels down and places one hand on the wall, and the other on one of her knees.

“No…” Her voice is wavering as she reaches for his hand, squeezing as tight as she dared. It’s not too long before Crosshair sits next to her, and she scoots over to sit on his lap before he can even offer. She’s still trembling for a little while, and Crosshair waits patiently like he’s been trained to.

“Crosshair…do you know anything about Fives?” Ah, it’s not a question that he would have figured she would ask.

“I know some things.”

—---------------

Echo wasn’t like the other regs, outside of his physical appearance. From what the Batch has ever seen, they all seem to come together seamlessly, laughing and joking in the dining hall, roughhousing and constantly betting against each other in the barracks. Not that the Batch were ever excluded, many regs often encouraged them to join in with things, but they never felt like it was their lane to dip their toes into.

Echo was quiet, not the man they had seen when working with Rex. With Rex, he smiled, even if it was nothing but filled with pain, and joked weakly as he spoke with a confidence that should have been stripped away in that chamber. With them, he was quiet, sometimes joking with Wrecker, but ultimately was more soldier than he was a man. Eyes were always looking for the next threat, body strung as if he was standing on a live wire, scomp almost always plugged in as he listened to any and all chatter from the millions of brothers that fought for the Republic.

So, it’s not surprising that Crosshair was almost drawn to the man. The Marauder wasn’t a terribly big ship, everyone having to sleep in rotations now that there were 4 bunks for 5 men. Echo had offered to sleep on the floor, but Wrecker wouldn’t hear a single word of it, and all but threw the man onto his bed after arguing for a good twenty minutes the first night. Crosshair slept on the bunk across, and Echo didn’t sleep much as he felt those eyes just staring at him that first night. Slowly, it began to get easier as Echo realized that no, the staring wasn’t something to feel uncomfortable about.

It was curiosity, and Dogma, Fives, Hardcase, they all flash into his mind and no, he doesn’t have a crying fit in the ‘fresher when the realization hits him.

So, he waits when they’re alone. They’ve landed on some beach, and Echo has decided to stay on the ship while the others scouted the area for something they could cook up. Crosshair had also remained behind, eyes and upper face hidden by a mask. His eyesight, while being second to none, was easily overwhelmed by bright lights and colors, and led to migraines that could be debilitating if not treated.

Getting a flashbang to the face was definitely something that could overwhelm his eyes.

So now he’s sitting in the copilot’s seat, listening to Echo tinker away on the console, arms crossed over his chest.

“You can ask me anything.” Echo isn’t sure why he says anything, focused on some exposed wiring in front of him.

“What do I have to ask?” Crosshair replied, each and every word guarded in that raspy voice of his. Echo had never minded it, and remembers tearing some shinies a new one when he heard them whispering some rude things on Kamino, unaware Crosshair was listening in from around the corner.

“Whatever you’d like. You keep staring at me, and usually, I get stared at by kih’vod who are awed to see an ARC trooper. So, ask.” Crosshair huffs, and Echo is replacing the console board when he hears the other shuffle.

“Who is Rex to you, besides your captain?” Crosshair was trying to not sound like an ass, but he does regardless. He’s not expecting Echo to chuckle to himself, and a smile tugs at those pale lips.

“He is…well, he’s just about everything. A brother, the man who saved me and…the reason I joined the 501st, became an ARC trooper. Rex is…everything.”

Crosshair does not miss the slip-up.

Echo does not elaborate, not for a good month.

Fives, the name is next spoken between chattering teeth, cold seeping into Echo’s very bones. He’s on the floor, one hand fused with the grating on the floor of the ship, the other tucked against his chest as Echo trembled.

It’s so cold, so cold, he can’t move, they’ll come for him, where is Fives, he wants his vod .

The arms that pry Echo from the grating aren’t Fives’, the sharp cologne hanging around him as he’s forced to sit against a wall isn’t Fives’, the sharp eyes he’s forced to look up at aren’t Fives’. He wants his vod, he wants him so much it hurts, but here he is focusing on Crosshair’s fingers that are in front of his eyes. It feels like eons until his heart

“Focus and follow my fingers.” Echo does as he was ordered, his breathing slowly starting to slow down as he forces his brain to focus. Crosshair is patient with him, keeping Echo’s focus on him as the man pulls himself together.

“Thanks.” His voice is hoarse, and he wipes away some tears as Crosshair sits back on his heels. He’s still trembling from the cold only he can feel, but is able to look around and take in the fact he was safe. It helped that there was a highly trained sniper in front of him, and ever so slowly, the chills fade away to be replaced with the warmth around them. Crosshair seems satisfied by this, and gets to his feet, extending a hand after he thought for a moment, and Echo accepts it and is hoisted up to his feet without much effort.

“He was my twin.” Echo isn’t sure why he spoke, but the words just seemed to surge forward when Crosshair wordlessly began to retreat to his little corner of the ship. The sniper pauses, looking over his shoulder with the familiar slight sneer that Wrecker dubbed his “resting bitch face”, but Echo knows better. “He’s gone.”

“....” Crosshair just studied the older clone without a word, and Echo idly wonders what he was looking for. “I’m sorry.”

“Yea, me too. Thank you for this.” The sneer lifts for a moment, and Echo’s heart aches at the soft look of concern that shines before the mask comes back down.

“Nothing to thank me for.”

—-------------------

“He’s alive.” Omega whispers, hoping that Hemlock doesn’t somehow hear her and appears outside their cell, and curls closer to Crosshair.

“What?” The sniper frowns as he adjusts his hold, mind already racing with the news. “How do you know this?”

“I was in his cell. Crosshair, he’s been there for so long .” Omega wants nothing more than to force her way down to the dark cell so many floors below them, and closes her eyes with a wince. “I don’t think he believed me about Echo.”

“Not surprised.” He wouldn’t either, but now is not the time to say that out loud.

“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?” The question is once again a whisper and the two lapse in silence for some time.

“Yes. Whatever they want from you, they won’t get it.” Crosshair moved one hand to rest it on the back of Omega’s head as if to protect her, eyes moving to glare at the security camera that was ever-present. Omega grips his shirt in response, listening to the steady beat of his heart as if it was her lifeline to reality. They don’t say anything else for the rest of the day, Omega sometimes tapping against his knee, which one could mistake for boredom or anxiety.

In reality, she’s telling her brother that her guards from before had made a mistake, the two furthering the slowly forming map of the base they were imprisoned inside. Little by little it was growing, and with each scrap of information, their plan to escape was crawling ever closer towards them.

—---------------

It’s not blue this time, not fully. Shapes are moving from beyond a veil, sometimes close before moving away.

No, not a veil. No, this is a tank.

The blue is bacta, it makes sense now.

Why is he in bacta?

It doesn’t matter, bacta means life, so he is alive. Good, one question answered.

The darkness comes again, but this time it is known as sleep.

He is alive.

—---------------------

Fives knew every square inch of his cell, from the bed to the ever-present ray shield, he knew it all. Had to, hard to walk around or do anything if you can’t memorize a place you can’t see right? Hemlock may have taken his sight, but Fives was bred as a soldier, and soldiers never quit no matter the circumstances.

It worked to his advantage that the cameras in his cell had been stripped long ago, since who needed to watch a blind man in the dark?

It was clear now he could be heard, which explains the faint buzzing near the door he always heard, and the information was filed away. The girl is gone, the little blonde girl with wide eyes full of pain and hope, the girl who finally gave Fives the hope to care, to live, to fight . The little girl who gave him his sight, even if for a few precious seconds.

The few seconds to show him that his cell had a weakness he would have never figured out on his own.

It was on the wall opposite his bed, worn metal warped just enough to show a junction box behind it. This room wasn’t supposed to be a cell, that much is clear now, but right now that didn’t matter as Fives goes for the warped metal. Hemlock wouldn’t miss a chance to gloat, so Fives waited for the elevator to rise before bolting for the wall. It rips off with a weak tug, and Fives makes sure the metal is out of sight from the door before thin fingers map out the box, making note of a small communications port at the bottom. The junction box, once opened after a moment of fumbling, has buttons for what felt like several rooms, and Fives has to bite back a cry of joy at the discovery. However, as much as it pains him, Fives has to pull back and close the box and reattach the metal before the next round of guards files through. While he may not have a plan yet, for the first time in so long, he finally has the conviction to do more than mope around.

He waits for their floor to become silent after the guard rotation, before pulling out a small piece of metal from inside his pillow and standing on his bed. The ceiling above him has exposed piping, and after craning his ear to make sure no guards were present, he begins to tap in a code known only to clones. It was something Cody of all people had come up with, a way to communicate without outsiders being able to butt in or complain of insubordination, taught behind the backs of Kaminoians and Jedi alike. He taps on the piping in the same beat for nearly ten minutes before there is a hesitant response a few cells down from his, and Fives smiles. One tap is followed by another a few moments later, and eventually, every single clone that had joined Fives from the beginning is tapping away, communicating with each other for the first time in so long.

Hemlock has no idea his idea of torture was in fact inspiring Fives, and it would be his mistake.

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mybloodyfamousprophets · 10 months ago

Text

madison - bloor

i said that id quit smoking but you saw i got another pack, my friends are going out tonight and lately ive been such a wreck, i guess i need a night, away from all the worldly troubles, put another on my tab, and make sure that it was a double, shot,

in the dark, we were dancing all night, because it takes away the pain until we walk into the city lights, it’s always been my home for as long as I remember, never lived far from the train tracks, but now i’m in the thick of it

in the bar, on Madison Avenue, i make a bad decision for all the things i choose to do, are, out of hubris, i’ll make a mistake, make long island sugar honey so i wont remember anyways,

i stood there alone, in the smoking alleyway, where college students pass me and i see someone i recognize, but we don’t talk, and that’s not what i’m here for, i just want to forget about the last chapter

just off bloor, we were dancing all night, and it took away the pain until we walked out into city ^lights, and i would’ve stayed, to find somebody to take me ^home, but i walked out alone, and it’s too late to take the train back to my place, and i’m miserably walking out to catch a, ^streetcar ride, i feel so, I’m already hungover, and i’m keeling over on college street corner, is there somebody here to, save me from ^myself?

the next night, the venues a friends house, backyard liquor bottles and plastic foil cuppy shots, and he’s got a boombox, the rhythm is healing my soul, as it infects every corner of my mind,

but i won’t queue my favourite song, they’ll say it’s too long, but i don’t really mind, cause it makes me think of the old times and his songs don’t and I think that’s just what i need, tonight

just off of king, we were dancing all night, and it took away the pain until i walked into the city lights, but there was no fun walk home cause I left there alone, taking only my vices out,

and i’m stumbling down richmond street, it’s way too late, my head is pounding and i wonder if one day i will change my fate, cause the pen is in my hands and the script is running wild, like my kid self imagination somehow got up and took the wheel

when i was 15, i was feeling wild and free, stealing rum from kitchen cabinets on that year we were all locked, inside, and i drank a horrid concoction that i know that i shouldnt have, and i felt awful the next morning but i think it opened my eyes, a little liquor rinsed out my, mind,

i was alone in my room and i was dancing all night, and it took away the pain until i woke up to the morning light, my head had never felt worse, and the second part of understanding, came,

you can take away the pain, but it changes, conservation ^energyv it comes back in a different way, it's the same, and i stand here alone, cause i'm still that kid, in a way, if nothing else is the same,

i promise i'll grow, and i swear that i'll change, i know that i'll be different, but i'm still the same,

but why do i think, that i'm the same kid, when i've survived and you haven't adapted?

you put a seed of doubt into my mind i could not shake, a two year burning flare that made my hope evaporate, you wanted me to quit but i rolled up to cope with you, didn't care,

running away, will not make, your chase, disappear, in my mind, filled with haze, my thoughts sound clear, until they didnt, until i couldnt,

cause the starships hit my eyes, and i could barely form a sentence, i was crying out to TS10, track 5, 2:06, and i was trying hard to get a grasp on, how i can live with, everything that's happened this life,

cause i was 4 with my ipod touch, heartbroken girls that sang to me, about things that i wouldnt understand, but influenced me when i came of age, and every trip and every pack makes me think that there is a better way, through the headphones i found hope, and the wires around me, turned into noise blocking that manages to keep me sane, on the ground with my head in the sky, i think this might be the last time,

cause i wake up and i see the morning light, i'm feeling the pain but i try to be alright, cause i can't keep rolling through, every problem that i, happen to have in the day, and i can't undo my, mistakes,

i have to live you because the clock wont run backward, i play a good tune instead of lighting a backwood, i write for hours without burning a cigarette, cause i lived, outlast, for the last time, i have survived and this life, to fix, is mine

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yellowocaballero · 3 years ago

Text

Obi-Wan’s a teen dad and Anakin DESPERATELY wants to do crime

A week after Obi-Wan formally took Anakin as his padawan, he left his quarters.

It hadn’t been Obi-Wan’s intention to spend a week lying in bed - or, at times, lying on the living room floor. Or staring blankly at the stove, or holding a toothbrush as he forgot what he was supposed to do with it. It had been his intention to handle the new...arrangements. Put on a brave face. Take care of business. There was so much to do, and Obi-Wan really did want to do it. But he stood in front of the stove staring at its knobs instead, lost.

Anakin had been a good sport about it, at least. He figured out alarmingly quickly how to work the stove and fry up the sliced fruit in their cupboards. Anakin didn’t understand that you didn’t fry fruit, but Obi-Wan ate it with little complaint. He put food in front of Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan ate it. When Anakin asked him, somewhat fearfully, how to use the shower, Obi-Wan showed him and then took one himself. After the third day he left the living quarters semi-frequently, which would have been worrying if Obi-Wan cared.

Obi-Wan’s depressed, grieving, and has an inferiority complex the size of an Alderaanian mountain. Anakin doesn’t know what’s happening, but he does know that the power grid failure was not his fault. Can Obi-Wan ever be a true Jedi and a competent master? Or is his backstory, as told by the Jedi Apprentice novels, too fucking weird?

Rest under the cut.

A week after Obi-Wan formally took Anakin as his padawan, he left his quarters.

On day six, Obi-Wan worked up the energy to turn on his datapad, and was promptly bombarded with messages. They scrolled down the screen, a new one popping up every second.

A lot of them were from his automated specialized education classes. Obi-Wan had finished the required padawan courses when he was sixteen, breezing through each course at his own pace virtually during downtime in transit and on missions. He had signed up for some Knight-level specialized education courses afterwards, loading as many on his plate as he could and managing special permission to complete them all virtually too. Apparently, he had a great deal of assignments due.

Many messages from the Temple administration. Notification for mandatory forms to complete for requisitions, medical care...reports on the Naboo mission...a mountain of forms to complete for the promotion...a mountain of forms for the new padawan...a mountain of forms for processing Qui-gon’s death.

Messages from his friends. How are you doing, Obi-Wan? Are you okay, Obi-Wan? Can we come over and talk, Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, you stupid bastard, how dare you fight a Sith without me?

Disturbingly, even the master of mission assignments had messaged him. Xe wanted to know if Obi-Wan was going to file for extended reprieve from missions to train his underage padawan in the Temple, or if he wanted to continue taking missions. Decide quickly, Knight Kenobi. Xe are willing to grant three years of light to no missions to help ‘facilitate Padawan Skywalker’s integration into the Jedi’.

The thought made Obi-Wan dizzy. No missions for years? He and Qui-Gon had barely gone weeks without a mission. But Obi-Wan had been thirteen, and Qui-Gon had a particular talent of taking an assignment to mediate standard legislative disputes and turn it into a three month embroilment in an endangered animal trafficking scheme. Staying stuck in the Temple for that amount of time made his skin crawl. Staying at home in the Temple so Anakin could integrate into the Jedi, become the Jedi he dreamed of...

Obi-Wan turned off the pad and tossed it across the room, letting it land on Qui-gon’s private meditation mat. Somehow, he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

Five hours later, Obi-Wan dragged himself out of Qui-gon’s room to find Anakin lying on the floor with what looked like an entire droid disassembled over the carpet. He was kicking his feet in the air, lying on his stomach, stripping some frayed wire.

Obi-Wan stared at him blankly, forms dancing behind his eyes. Anakin needed clothing. They had already processed him through his vaccinations - thank hell - and prescribed him some antibiotics for his multitude of intestinal parasites, but there was no way he was taking the pills. He needed to teach him how to braid the padawan braid. He needed to get them some food for the cabinets. He needed to…

“Are you hungry?” Obi-Wan rasped. His hair felt disgusting.

Anakin’s head snapped up, eyes widening. He scrambled off the rug, brushing a suspicious amount of dirt off his knees. “Yeah! I’ll make us that green thing!”

He shouldn’t let the nine year old work the stove. But Obi-Wan let him anyway, as he managed to somehow dump water in the kettle and place it on the stove, standing beside Anakin and waiting for it to whistle.

I must be doing very well, Obi-Wan thought hysterically, as he stared at the old-fashioned durasteel kettle that Qui-gon had favored. He was releasing his emotions into the Force with perfection. He wasn’t feeling anything at all. He wasn’t thinking about Qui-gon. He wasn’t thinking about anything at all. His mind was clear and empty, and he was perfectly at peace.

Obi-Wan tried to pour his tea, but he just couldn’t move. He stood and stared at the kettle for so long that Anakin eventually walked in and, straining on his tiptoes, sloshed the steaming water into the plastic white cup.

***

On day seven, Obi-Wan managed to wrangle both himself and Anakin into some semblance of hygiene and clean clothes. Anakin needed a lot of help, which clearly embarrassed him, but Obi-Wan was too dead inside to be frustrated about it.

He ended up tying his obi for him, as Anakin wriggled and tried to turn around to see it on the back. He’d have to show him how to do it himself later, but that was for later.

“Why do I have to wear this?” Anakin whined. “It’s so heavy.”

“I’ll see if I can requisition you an outfit with less layers,” Obi-Wan said. A lighter outfit wouldn’t cut it, as Anakin had ramped up the temperature controls in their quarters a week ago and the rooms haven’t dipped below boiling ever since. “Hold still. Hold - hold still, please.”

“What does requisition mean?”

Anakin held still eventually. He managed to untie the obi in the first ten minutes, but Obi-Wan really couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Then they had to worry about brushing their teeth, and Obi-Wan had to teach him how to do that, and why was this so hard, why was everything so hard -

But when Obi-Wan eventually got them both out the door, he found no relief.The Temple felt different. Obi-Wan didn’t know how; just that it did. It was identical in every worldly way, yet mismatched in the Force. As if it was a different Temple, a pale echo from another dimension, that was the home of a different Obi-Wan. Or maybe Obi-Wan was different: maybe his Force signature was so warped and polluted that he tainted everywhere he went.

They were all parts of the great whole of the Force. The Force was composed of every Jedi, every sentient being and eddy of wind. There were tens of thousands of Jedi in this Temple - how could the death of one man change it so thoroughly? Or had it just changed Obi-Wan?

Somewhat suspiciously, Anakin seemed to know the way out of the dormitories and into the main thoroughfare of the building. Obi-Wan kept a death grip on his little hand the entire time, slowing his steps so Anakin could keep up without having to jog. It didn’t stop him from trying to run forward every few steps, only for Obi-Wan to gently tug him back.

“You weren’t supposed to run around the Temple by yourself,” Obi-Wan said flatly. Anakin grinned sheepishly, in what Obi-Wan was already beginning to recognize as his ‘Busted!’ face.

“Why not?”

“You could have gotten lost.”

“I did get lost,” Anakin said proudly. “But then I found a secret service tunnel for the droids and I crawled through it and I found a server room and -” He stopped abruptly. “But that was way after the power outage yesterday. That I had nothing to do with.”

Obi-Wan...should probably care about this.

He didn’t. He was too busy releasing his emotions into the Force, and returning his dark thoughts to the Force, and maintaining complete control over his body and spirit. There was no room in that for caring about Anakin, maybe, destroying the Temple.

Wasn’t he a teacher? Shouldn’t he be teaching?

“First rule of being a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, exhausted, “learn to lie.”

There. That was a lesson. Qui-gon had said the same thing to him when he was fourteen. Obi-Wan was doing great at this. Anakin beamed and made a weird motion with his hand, clenching it into a fist and sticking his thumb out. Obi-Wan stared blankly at him until he put his hand down.

Maybe it was because Obi-Wan was releasing all of his feelings and thoughts into the Force so well, but he couldn’t help but feel a constant prickling at the back of his neck. It felt like everybody was looking at them. A group of gossiping knights downright stopped talking when they saw Obi-Wan and Anakin approaching, and they broke out into whispers when they left. Padawans and initiates openly stared. Masters were too polite to stare, but their interest clearly peaked in the Force.

By the time they got to the quartermaster’s and slid in line, Anakin was practically hiding behind Obi-Wan. Anakin had likely gone his entire life without anybody noticing him, blending into the background. Obi-Wan had learned almost a decade ago that it was a useful survival tactic for slaves. Although how he had ever done it, Obi-Wan would never know. The boy was a sun in the Force. Blinding and burnt, as broiling as the temperature he kept their quarters at.

“Oh my. Padawan Kenobi, is that you?” Meela, the Quartermaster’s knight assistant, stopped and stared at both of them. She was carrying a large box of fabrics, and all of the other Jedi waiting in line stopped talking to crane their heads and stare too. “Oh! It’s knight now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, before coughing. He hadn’t realized his voice was so hoarse - he hadn’t spoken to anybody but a nine year old in a week. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Meela.”

“Of course,” Meela said quickly. She was looking openly at Anakin, who was pointedly looking at Obi-Wan’s belt. “And you must be Anakin Skywalker! I had no idea you were so young. Is he even old enough to be a padawan, Knight Kenobi?”

“We determined that the creche wasn’t the best place for him.” Obi-Wan quickly grabbed his datapad, brought up the catalogue of items to requisition, and shoved it Anakin. “Pick out what we’re going to get. I’m certain you must be very busy, Knight Meela, so -”

“My, Padawan Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan refrained from gritting his teeth, before rotating on his heel. He stuck his hands in his sleeves, bowing to the aged Togrutan Jedi behind him. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Master Hashi.”

“My condolences for your master’s death,” Master Hashi said sympathetically. His watery old blue eyes were large and perfectly pitying. “It must be so difficult for you. And taking on a padawan so soon after your knighthood, as well.”

“He’s with the Force now,” Obi-Wan said. Smiling. He was smiling. Turn it down. Just a gentle smile. Remember Rishi. “But I appreciate your condolences.”

As it turns out, half the line just needed to express condolences for Master Jinn’s death, how sad, how tragic, how avoidable. He was so young. Obi-Wan was practically sweating by the time they got to the quartermaster’s desk, at which point he was promptly told that he was missing three forms.

Obi-Wan stood in front of the quartermaster’s desk, gripping Anakin’s hand in his, trying not to unwind. “But I filled out the application on the portal -”

“Yes, but you need your knight’s identification code,” the Quartermaster said briskly. “You input your padawan code.”

“How do I find out my knight’s identification code?”

“It should be on your identification card, son.”

“I was only knighted a week ago.” They were staring. They were all staring - “They haven’t issued me a card yet.”

“I’ll refer you to my assistant, Knight Kenobi.”

Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan’s sleeve. “Are we not getting my new clothing?”

A horrible tremor rose in Obi-Wan’s chest: a choking, sinking feeling. It crawled up his throat, making his trachea burn and his head pound. It felt like a balloon expanding, splintering his chest cavity and threatening to crack him apart.

Everybody was watching. They could not see it. Think about Rishi. Do not let them see it.

After fifteen humiliating minutes sitting at a sympathetic Meela’s desk, Obi-Wan finally managed to secure them some clothes. Anakin also received the standard pack of Jedi personal items, including his own toiletries and datapad. They secured an identification code for Anakin and input him into the database, and gave him his own lanyard and set of cards. Older Jedi tended to keep them in a hidden pocket in their robes, but for obvious reasons they affixed them to the neck of younger children.

But, without the identification code and five hundred more hoops, Obi-Wan couldn’t request a new living quarters and new furniture. He thanked Meela for her time anyway, stopped Anakin from attempting to requisition a B900-A40 droid with HyperFlex specs, and escaped something as simple as the Quartermaster’s trying to avoid rattling apart.

Obi-Wan only exhaled when they were outside, looking at his datapad and marking off the first line. The to-do list scrolled down the screen, and onto another page. Anakin was already shifting from foot to foot, bored.

“One down,” Obi-Wan said. “Three more.”

“Do we have to?” Anakin whined. “Why were the other Jedi so mean?”

Obi-Wan stopped short. He looked down at Anakin, who was fiddling with his obi again. “Stop messing with that. And they weren’t being mean, Anakin, they were just concerned.”

But Anakin just wrinkled his nose. “They were being mean. They were making you feel bad.”

How had he even - “If you keep quiet through the errands, you can have some fruit for lunch at the commissary.”

“Wizard!”

****

It quickly became obvious that nobody approved of Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Whispers followed them everywhere. Masters, old friends of Qui-gon, subtly disapproved of his choices. Which was nothing new - Obi-Wan had silently suffered almost everybody in the Temple disapproving of Qui-gon to him for years - but somehow it made Obi-Wan want to tear his hair out. The knights - the other knights - expressed incredulity that somebody knighted that morning received a padawan that afternoon. The padawans refused to even talk to Anakin, and he very quickly stopped trying.

Obi-Wan’s own friends...he did not have many. He was never in the Temple long enough to significantly interact or make connections with any other padawans or knights. He was never home for longer than a few weeks, and if he was planetside for longer than a month then it was because Qui-gon was recuperating from getting blown up when Obi-Wan hijacked a pirate ship and crash landed it on a small moon.

He used to have friends. Bant and Garen and Reeft and Siri...but a small and horrible part of Obi-Wan hated talking to them. A conversation with them always felt like they were trying to communicate with an Obi-Wan who hadn’t existed for a very long time, crying out over an impassable canyon. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan had begun resenting people who saw through him.

Anakin was a stubborn and implacable kid, but he was very perceptive. He clung tighter and tighter to Obi-Wan’s robes the further they walked into the temple, and eventually Obi-Wan had to disentangle him and give him a quick talk about appropriate behavior. It was his tenth talk to Anakin about appropriate behavior - about everything from using utensils to washing his hair - but this was the first time he seemed to understand why.

“So they don’t like you if you don’t do all the dumb stuff they do?”

“It’s not dumb,” Obi-Wan hissed. “And keep your voice down, this is a library.”

Judging from Anakin’s impressed gawking, this was his first time in a library. He clearly didn’t understand why they were supposed to be quiet either, and Obi-Wan was beginning to understand that Anakin refused to do anything unless you gave him a reason.

Obi-Wan carefully placed him in a small chair in the children’s section, in front of a brightly colored plastic table. Some other initiates were sitting around coloring, or working their way through children’s books. Anakin squinted up at him judgmentally as Obi-Wan frantically grabbed the clunky and friendly library datapad and scrolled through the catalogue until he found a likely suspect. Bugs of Rainforest Planets, light on the words, perfect.

“Just stay here until I come back,” Obi-Wan whispered, after a hurried explanation of why they were quiet in libraries. “Don’t leave this chair. Please.”

“I want more fruit,” Anakin warned.

“You will have more fruit. Now please don’t move.”

This was not how you Jedi masters taught padawans. This was not how it was supposed to work. Obi-Wan was not doing this right. He was doing this terribly. And everybody knew, and everybody was judging him.

The children’s librarian was a kind, plump older Twi’lek with long silver lekku down to her waist. Madame Hallan had been a personal favorite of Obi-Wan’s when he was a youngling, and he knew that she still had a soft spot for him. She was probably the only librarian who didn’t explicitly distrust him.

He easily kidnapped her for a meeting - or, maybe, she took one look at his face and kidnapped him - and she shepherded him into her office. He had never been inside, and Obi-Wan felt weirdly on the other end of the fence of his childhood. It was bright and cheerful and had datapads scattered everywhere with tax forms.

“I understand you have a new padawan,” Madame Hallan said kindly. “I saw him reading. He seems like a wonderful boy.”

She and half the temple understood that he had a new padawan. “I need your help,” Obi-Wan said, excruciatingly impolitely. Since when was Obi-Wan impolite? Since when was he lost? “It’s Anakin - I need to enroll him for lessons and I need some introductory literature for him and -”

“Dear, you’ll want to talk to Master Ravenholme for that.” Master Ravenholme was the Master of Education, and personal blight of many. “He’ll likely ask Anakin to take a placement test to determine which classes he joins.”

“Anakin can’t take a placement test,” Obi-Wan said. “He can’t read.”

To Madame Hallan’s credit, and raising a lot of questions about what exactly the other Jedi knew about Anakin, she accepted the information with a thoughtful look and a nod. “Does he know his letters and some words, or is it total illiteracy?”

Obi-Wan scrubbed his face. He was perched in the uncomfortable metal chair across from her desk, elbows propped on his knees. “It’s sporadic. He’s not totally illiterate, and I think he can read mechanical instruction manuals and labels and signs and that sort of thing...if it has to do with starfighters, he can write the instruction manual...I don’t know, I haven’t checked, but I can’t send him to class like this…”

“Calm yourself, Obi-Wan. Release that tension into the Force. Let’s take this one step at a time,” Madame Hallan said firmly, as Obi-Wan carefully breathed. “I will schedule a reading and writing assessment appointment for Anakin for an assessment. Knight Fu and Knight Kili are available to administer personal tutoring until we get him up to speed.” Fu and Kili were two teachers in the special education department, which was somewhat lean for children over the age of ten or so. Most of the ‘delayed’ children were quickly assigned to the Jedi Corp. Obi-Wan was highly educated on this, and shamefully bitter. “Now, doesn’t that sound like a plan?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Madame Hallen typed something out on her computer, making Obi-Wan’s datapad ping. “I’ve sent you a few of the handbooks that we give new knights and first-time teachers. Hopefully they’ll be of some use to you.” She smiled reassuringly at him, oozing serenity. “I think you will make a wonderful teacher, Obi-Wan. Our Temple’s never seen a young Jedi as dedicated and hardworking as you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And I’m certain that once you and Anakin get settled in, no matter where he came from, he will make an excellent student. We’re all Jedi here, after all.”

Betting was not Jedi-like behavior, despite the fact that Obi-Wan was a world-class betting champion on three Outer Rim worlds (there had been a diamond heist), but Obi-Wan would bet five hundred credits right now that Anakin was not in the chair where he had left him.

In the end, Obi-Wan was pleasantly surprised. Anakin, obviously, was not in the chair where Obi-Wan had left him, but he was within easy searching distance and hadn’t destroyed any droids yet. Instead, he had just meandered to the large picture encyclopedia propped up on a wooden stand, flipping through the flimsi with wide eyes.

Obi-Wan stood next to him, unable to smile but amused all the same. “Do you know what that is?”

Anakin nodded fervently. “It’s an encyclopedia! The padawan guy said it has pictures of every smart species in the galaxy.”

There were, of course, digital databases for these things, but kids loved flipping through things. “Sentient species. Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah!” Anakin lingered on a picture of a Togruta before flipping further at light speed. “The padawan guy said that Qui-gon was a ‘rogue Jedi’ and that he taught you how to do crime and conquer planets and backflip and stuff.”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. Hard. “Please don’t listen to Temple gossip, Anakin. It’ll jump down Coruscant while the truth takes an airlift.”

“But you can do backflips, I saw it.” Anakin turned to look at him - eyes wide, unjudging. “What does ‘rogue Jedi’ mean?”

What did it mean? Obi-Wan had spent half his life wondering. “It means that Qui-gon and I had a lot of adventures,” Obi-Wan said tactfully. “My training was somewhat unconventional in comparison with many other Jedi.”

But Anakin just beamed. “That’s so cool! Is my training going to be uncon - unconvectional?”

“Unconventional.” Obi-Wan sighed. “And at this point, I’m afraid so.”

Was Anakin going to resent him for this once he grew older? He must. Anakin would never be a real Jedi, a proper one. Just like Obi-Wan wasn’t. And Obi-Wan had spent almost a decade now frantically, fervently, desperately trying. He had done everything: mastered the art of saber-fighting, excelled in as many topics as he could. He was an expert in diplomacy, politics, ecology, and tactics. Everybody who met Obi-Wan found him charming, graceful, and handsome - and nobody who ever met Obi-Wan liked him. He topped his classes, was better at saberplay than most knights, and had personally saved the lives of three princesses and a memorable duchess, and he couldn’t figure out how to be a Jedi.

Obi-Wan couldn’t teach what he didn’t have. And he would never be able to give -

“Cool! I want to backflip and conquer planets too.” Anakin grinned up at him, yellow teeth flashing in the soft library lights. “I already know how to do crime, I’m really good at it!”

“Jedi have diplomatic immunity, so technically I’ve never done a crime,” Obi-Wan said, somewhat testily.

“What’s diplomatic immunity?”

“Lesson number two, padawan, is that it means we can do whatever we want so long as we can justify it in the mission report.”

“Wizard!”

Maybe Obi-Wan should just never repeat anything Qui-gon had ever said to him. Ever.

In a roundabout act of bribery, Obi-Wan finally led Anakin towards the cafeteria. It wasn’t lunchtime, but few Jedi strictly followed the guidelines of breakfast, lunchtime, and dinnertime. This was mostly because the creche and Initiates did, and nobody wanted to be in the cafeteria while children were everywhere. Obi-Wan was somewhat infamous in certain circles for braving the cafeteria at 0500 hours, when the space was completely overtaken by retired and venerated Masters sipping tea and playing intense grudge matches of shogi. Obi-Wan had been forced into the matter by his habit of waking up at 0430, but the shogi skills he learned had once settled a trade negotiation between two tribal groups with an ancestral grudge on a Mid-Rim planet, so he had no regrets.

Anakin was practically crushing his hand in excitement. His head whipped around everywhere, eyes wide and drinking in the sublimely banal and boring sight. There was the salad bar, there was the meat bar, there was the drink fountain...but to Anakin, it was the most amazing thing on Coruscant. It almost made Obi-Wan smile. When was the last time he had that expression on his face? Even the beautiful spires of Naboo were commonplace to him.

“And they just -”

“Yes, they just give you the food.” Obi-Wan stopped in the center of the crowded thoroughfare - where, thankfully, everybody was far too focused on their meal or their friends to care about the Temple’s newest spectacle. “I’m sorry, Anakin. What do you...eat, again?”

Anakin suffered this atrocious act of caretaking patiently. What had he been eating until now? Just the self-stable noodles? Had he been handling boiling water?! “At home we ate jinjaraak and ekijun. People with money had fruit and stuff.” He looked around hopefully. “And they just give you fruit -”

“Right,” Obi-Wan said. He struggled to remember the food Shmi had served them. It had been mostly gruel. Obi-Wan had been around the block enough to see that she had been an adept cook of terrible ingredients. “Could you give me an idea of what those are?”

“Uh…” Anakin made little slapping motions with his hands. “Jinjaraak is from clay and lard and spices. I help Mom make little cakes. Like this, see?” At Obi-Wan’s dubious expression, he quickly clarified, “From the good clay. Near the dried up rivers. Not the bad clay. That stuff makes you sick. O’la’rek ate some of that and she got super sick and she barfed up blue -”

“Let’s get you some fruit,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin got as much fruit as he wanted. Obi-Wan was too busy thinking about what ‘good clay’ could possibly mean to stop him. He could take the extra back to their quarters, anyway.

There was a line for medical diets, and Obi-Wan eventually shuffled an ecstatic fruit-chomping Anakin into that line. He had to present the script the Halls of Healing gave him to the friendly yet belaboured Padawan working the booth that day, and waited patiently as the Padawan squinted at it and ran off to go get his supervisor. Anakin was in Rylothian Heaven, complete with the trees of plenty.

Eventually the supervisor shuffled out, and when Obi-Wan recognized Master Law he bowed. The gruff Patitite squinted at Obi-Wan, then down at the effervescent Anakin with jogan juice staining his sleeve. It was a good thing Obi-Wan thought ahead and ordered extra robes.

“Kenobi,” Master Law finally said, with an air of crisp memory. “Iron deficiency.”

“Yes, Master.” Please don’t remind him. “I’m here with a prescription for my -”

“And the Vitamin D deficiency. And malnutrition?” Master Law squinted further at Obi-Wan, as if half-convinced that he couldn’t possibly be remembering correctly. “I had you eating Lo’rok paste for a month.”

“Yes, Master. After I was stationed on Neskar.”

“How the blazes was a Padawan stationed on -” Master Law cut himself off abruptly, staring down at Anakin instead. He looked him up and down with sharp eyes, seemingly picking out a dozen things that Obi-Wan just couldn’t see. “I’ll get you the nutrient shakes. See that he has one with every meal, three meals a day. I’m prescribing extra vitamin gummies, he’s a bit yellow. Those dietician hacks at the Halls of Healing don’t know anything about real food.”

Obi-Wan really didn’t want to get in the middle of that, so he just nodded. But Anakin blinked up at the man, flecks of seeds caught on the corner of his mouth. “What’s a gummy?”

“A very sweet, tasty candy,” Master Law said gravely. “Which young Padawans only receive when they are very brave.”

Anakin brightened. “What’s candy?”

“The best food in the galaxy.” Master Law’s stern countenance split into a sharp smile. “Seems like that’s just what the doctor ordered. If you’ve never had any, then that means I have to prescribe you a double dose.”

Anakin grinned to match, bright and wide, with yellow teeth and crinkled eyes. “That means I’m brave! I’m super brave! Padme said so, and you said so, so it’s like I’m extra brave!”

For some reason that he just couldn’t parse, Obi-Wan found himself anxiously saying, “I think you’re brave too, Anakin.”

“Triple brave!”

The cafeteria was quickly proving to be Anakin’s favorite place in the Temple. Obi-Wan was reasonably certain that this was a good thing, because it made Anakin happy and happiness was good. That was a reliable fact of the universe: when happiness was scarce, sweet food could usually supply it. Sometimes you took what you could get.

Obi-Wan made an uncharacteristic move and placed a great deal of sugar on his oatmeal. Dumping sugar on oatmeal was crazy. This was probably what going insane felt like. Obi-Wan felt like a criminal.

“You’re very boring, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said judgmentally.

“I’m afraid so,” the ten time war veteran agreed.

It could be worse. Nobody was around to see his shame but Anakin, and the small child wouldn't squeal. All he had to do was ply Anakin with nutrition shakes and fruit, take him back to their quarters, not leave their quarters again for another two weeks in order to recover from this experience, and -

“Obi-Wan! Goodness, Obi-Wan!”

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin jumped a foot in the air, Anakin fighting to keep his food balanced on his child-sized tray. But Obi-Wan recognized the voice, the smooth familiarity soothing his panicking heart and calming down his padawan by connection.

Despite the fact that the voice was the last person he wanted to see.

Bant didn’t run, because she was a respectable Knight, but she did speedwalk in a dignified waddle towards Obi-Wan and Anakin. Anakin subtly slid closer to Obi-Wan, which he should really discourage.

“Obi-Wan! Oh, goodness, you - you jerk, you big jerk!” Bant wrung her flippers, jowls shaking with the clear uge to wrap up Obi-Wan in her patented tight hug and foiled only by the tray that Obi-Wan was holding in front of him like a shield. “You’re an absolute bantha’s - oh!”

She had just noticed Anakin, who held his tray tightly. He was frowning at Bant, and Obi-Wan could feel a twinge of childish bad emotion across their still nascent bond. Wait. What bond?

Bant was oblivious, or put on a good show of it. ��You must be Padawan Skywalker,” she said warmly. She bent down a little, and Obi-Wan was struck by nostalgia for her glimmering eyes and bright smile. Bant loved kids. Obi-Wan never had. “It’s so good to meet you! Have you been taking care of your silly master for me?”

Anakin pursed his lips judgmentally. “My teacher’s not silly,” Anakin said, a bit loudly. “He’s great and smart and does backflips. It’s not his fault he’s a jerk!”

Never mind. Obi-Wan was never taking Anakin out in public again. He carefully destroyed the urge to wince, settling for smiling weakly at Anakin. Bant looked a little taken back - shocked by the idea that Anakin could have taken her friendly teasing seriously. Or maybe that he would openly call Obi-Wan a jerk. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to contest it. It was fair.

“Bant’s my best friend, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, with as much warmth as he could muster. His smile was looking more pathetic than anything, so he dropped it. “She knows how good my backflips are.”

“The best in the Temple!” Bant immediately swore up and down. “I’m awfully sorry, Anakin. I think your master’s the coolest guy here. Come on, why don’t you two come eat lunch with me and the rest of Obi-Wan’s friends? We’ve all been dying to meet the newest member of the family!”

A stone sank in Obi-Wan’s gut. He looked over the crowd, effortlessly picking out the familiar table in the back center. Sure enough, he saw the telltale gawks of Siri and Quinlan.

Joy. The two people he wanted to talk to the least. Those two ate Obi-Wan for breakfast on a good day. They would devour him now. They could smell weakness on him. He couldn’t get anything past them. They would take one look at him and know, just know -

“Obi-Wan has friends?” Anakin asked dubiously. “But he just stays in his room all day.” Went tactfully unsaid: and nobody likes him.

Somehow, the emotional obstacle course his friends were going to put him through was more appealing than the cold judgement of the nine year old. “I have plenty of friends,” Obi-Wan lied through his teeth. “Let’s go say hi.”

It felt like walking to the guillotine. Actually, Obi-Wan had walked to a guillotine before, and this was - no, it wasn’t worse. Hadn’t he done it twice? The first time was stressful, because he wasn’t sure if Qui-Gon had seduced the prison guard yet. The second time was fine, since he had hidden his lightsaber in the loose floorboard under the guillotine before he set up his own capture. So - better than the first time, worse than the second time.

Bizarrely, Siri and Quinlan grinned when they saw them. Obi-Wan was actively fighting the urge to hide behind the nine year old. The nine year old who he couldn’t possibly have formed a training bond with - he had been his padawan all of a week, it was impossible - but who had undoubtedly sensed his anxiety anyway.

“Obi-Wan, I can’t fucking believe it,” Quinlan shouted, far too loudly. He and Bant’s trays were empty, while the slow eater Siri’s bowl of grains were half-eaten. They had been there for a while, probably hours, talking about life. He had always left after thirty minutes. He had stuff to do. “I must have left you ten damn voicemails -”

“You son of a varnaak.” Siri had a death grip on her spoon, wielding it like a lightsaber. “I’m strangling you with your intestine. Not inviting me to your own knighting -”

“If you’re going to be mean, we’re leaving!” Anakin interrupted, voice high and reedy. “I already said so! I will stomp your feet!”

“You’re not allowed to stomp their feet, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, exhausted beyond measure. “Hello, all. Save the interrogation for after we’ve eaten, please.”

And maybe it was the sheer power of Anakin and his mighty feet, but his friends quieted enough for Obi-Wan to shove sugary oats into his mouth and for Anakin to polish off his fruit before starting in on his nutrient shake. Obi-Wan had to stop and take a napkin and wipe the seeds off the corner of his mouth, and help him to insert the straw in the protein shake, but the act of sucking on a straw amused Anakin and he didn’t hate the taste. There were friendly animal species on the cup. Special nutrient shake for chronically malnourished children - now with bright colors!

His friends just watched them, without even food to make the environment faux-casual. Their dark eyes seemed to follow him, and Obi-Wan felt his skin crawl. He didn’t want to deal with this. He could barely deal with Quinlan on a good day, much less...today. Any day, lately.

Finally, his grace period seemed to tick down to zero, and Quinlan broke the ice with a fishing spear and an excess of exuberance. “Is this the famous little guy we’ve heard so much about? I hear you’re a good pilot, kid!”

And, just like that, Quinlan was Anakin’s favorite person on Coruscant. “I’m the best pilot,” Anakin asserted arrogantly. Obi-Wan mentally noted the tendency for arrogance and pride down in the ‘Goal Setting!’ part of his brain that was half-heartedly drafting a training curriculum. “I can blow up anything and anyone.”

“Sounds like Quinlan,” Siri snickered. Unlike Bant, she was terrified of children, but she hid it well. “He and your master are Joballian twins that way. Those two could start a fire in deep space.”

“So who are you people?” Anakin asked. Obi-Wan put ‘unbelievably blunt’ in his mental training curriculum. “Are you really Obi-Wan’s friends? He doesn’t like you.”

“I like them very much,” Obi-Wan said rotely. Quinlan pantomimed a shot to the heart.

But Bant just smiled down at Anakin, unflappable. “You’re a padawan, young one. You should call Obi-Wan your master. It’s good to be polite.”

“Why should I have to do that?” Anakin’s voice tinged a little louder, and at a pointed look from Obi-Wan he toned it down. Siri’s eyebrows rose. “He’s my teacher, not a master of no one.”

Bant winced a bit, and all three of them rippled discomfort in the Force. So they knew, even though it wasn’t totally public knowledge. Quinlan had undoubtedly used his ridiculous clearance as a Shadow to access the Naboo mission records and spilled the details to them. Keeping it professional, as always.

“Master means something very different to Jedi,” Bant said gently. “It’s a special relationship between two people. Every Jedi teaches and learns from each other, but your master is the person who guides you and makes sure you go to bed on time. It’s just the same word for a very different thing than you’re used to.”

“What do you mean by that?” Anakin gnawed on his straw suspiciously. “I thought Obi-Wan was the one who taught me.”

Quinlan, who had far more experience with the wider world than Siri and Bant, caught on first. He propped his elbows on the table, and Obi-Wan saw him visibly struggle for the ‘wise teacher’ tone before giving up. “The Jedi have different relationships than you’re used to, kid. Who took care of you and watched you all day back home?”

This was heading into dangerous territory, and Obi-Wan frowned dangerously at Quinlan, but Anakin just hummed. “Mom took care of me and we moved around together. But Old Lady Hun watches me and the other kids in the gathering space when Mom’s busy. And when Jipol was sick, Mom and I took care of her two daughters. And Old Man Wa taught me how to fix things. And -”

“Right. So the Jedi are like that. Instead of a very small number of people raising kids, every adult raises every kid. So, for example, any Jedi would tell you to stop running in the halls or stop you from misbehaving -”

“And every Jedi did, with this one,” Siri added.

“ - but any Knight or Master would help you with your homework, too,” Quinlan finished, elbowing Siri. “We all help each other here. We share food, stuff, school, and teachings. That’s why we practice nonattachment - everything’s everybody’s, not just yours. Make sense?”

Anakin’s brow was furrowed. He paid close attention to everything - chewing everything over again and again until it made sense. Obi-Wan shoveled oatmeal in his mouth, glad Quinlan was doing this. “Why does nonattachment mean you don’t get moms or dads?”

Dangerous territory. Bant opened her mouth to say something soothing, but Quinlan beat her to the punch. “Well, to Jedi, we think the idea of just putting two or three people in charge of kids is pretty crazy. Kids are loud and bouncy. One or two people would get totally stressed out and make mistakes. And imagine just a few people teaching you about life. They could believe all this crazy stuff, and then so would you.”

“And what if the parent’s being a total jerk?” Siri pointed out. “Then the kid’s stuck with that. But when there’s other people around, they can stop and tell the parent that they’re being a total jerk. Then they have to cut it out.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes. “So nobody beats their kids here because the other Jedi would get mad?”

Awkward silence loomed. Finally, Quinlan said, “Yeah, totally. Anyway, that’s why our way rocks and makes sense. Boom. Teaching moment.” Quinlan slapped the table in victory. “We are so good at this. We’re going to be the greatest teachers ever, Anakin. Forget lame old Obi-Wan, he’s going to lead you down the path of boring. Stick with Knight Vos, I’m gonna lead you down the path that rocks.”

At Anakin’s deeply confused expression, Bant put a hand on his back. But when she spoke she spoke to Obi-Wan, gleaming eyes boring into his. “We’re Obi-Wan’s best friends. We’re going to be here for you almost as much as Obi-Wan is. None of us have padawans yet, so we’re all really excited to help you! Did you know I’m a doctor?”

Anakin perked up. He respected doctors highly - apparently it was a very prestigious position on Tatooine. “Wow! Obi-Wan’s friends with a doctor?”

“And I’m a superspy action hero, kid!” Quinlan flexed, tossing his dreads. “I can teach you how to hack into anything!”

“I’m a better pilot than anyone at this table.” Siri awkwardly waved her fist in the air in a pantomime of excitement. “I’ll help you...fly things. Which you can apparently already do. But I’ll teach you how to do it better.”

The idea was heady to Anakin. His eyes widened, filled with possibility and excitement. Of smiling adult faces, wanting to help. But he looked at Obi-Wan instead, fear sneaking in through the gap bored by long experience with misery. “So what does a master do, then?”

Obi-Wan smiled wanly at Anakin. Experimentally, he tried sending him as much warmth as possible. He didn’t have much to spare, but Anakin seemed to appreciate the sentiment. “I’ll protect you, Anakin. And I’d like it if you continued calling me Obi-Wan.”

And he knew that meant more to Anakin than all the rest. At least Obi-Wan won there.

Although Obi-Wan had gone his entire life despairing for Quinlan’s future padawan, he somehow handled Anakin wonderfully. Even Siri awkwardly asked a question about Anakin’s favorite kind of ship - clearly expecting an answer along the lines of ‘a big one!’ or ‘one that shoots lasers!’ - and sat through Anakin’s ten minute scientific dissertations on the difference in engine ports between Genoshian Special X100 and Genoshian Special X200.

When’s the last time Obi-Wan had a long conversation with Anakin, where they just talked about nothing? He’d been so selfish, focusing entirely on himself and not even thinking about Anakin. His friends were doing this a thousand times better than he was. They should be the one with a padawan, not him. Qui-Gon hadn’t thought he was ready for knighthood until - well, until it was convenient, but if it took him this long to be knighted he ought to be forty before he got a padawan.

In a characteristically deft maneuver, Quinlan had flagged down a friend of his - Ku Lun, a friendly face and teacher to the Initiates - and gave Anakin a real world lesson in Jedi togetherness by asking him to walk Anakin back to their quarters. Anakin shot a panicked look at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan deeply wished to send a panicked look back, but he just nodded supportively.

“Don’t you want to ask Knight Lun about lessons?” Obi-Wan said. “You can work together to design your school.”

The concept of school, and the power to choose it, was obviously heady to Anakin, and he jumped off the bench with only a tinge of reluctance. “Come back to the room in thirty minutes or you’re fired,” Anakin told Obi-Wan gravely, yet nonsensically, before running off with Knight Lun.

It wasn’t until the sounds of Anakin’s chattering faded, then disappeared completely, that Obi-Wan turned back to his friends with a sigh. Their plot had worked. Quinlan and Siri’s perfect score in tactics - second only to his more than perfect score - had won again. He was subject to the masses, and the masses were stressed over his wellbeing.

Better make the pre-emptive strike. “Greetings, my honored friends,” Obi-Wan said dully. “My very best friends in the galaxy, whom I have not spoken to in months.”

“And whose fault is that, you asshole!” Quinlan thumped the table, making the plasteelware rattle, and cuing a withering look from Bant. “You drop out of contact. You leave on a routine diplomatic mission. You get wrapped up in an interplanetary war, obviously, because that’s how your routine missions always go. And you come back with a kid and the head of a Sith?”

“You have the situation well in hand, Quinlan. There’s nothing more I can teach you.”

“Idiot! I’m not asking for a mission report, here.” Quinlan set his mouth, as tempestuous as ever. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay?

Maybe Bant caught something on his expression, because she placed a reassuring flipper on his arm. “We’re sorry about Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan. We know how much he meant to you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“You can’t get rid of us just because you don’t talk to us.” Siri scooped the rest of her oats in her mouth, clearly regretful that she no longer had something to hide behind. “Reeft and Garen feel the same way. You’re lucky Garen’s on a mission, or he would have staked out your door.” He would have. Garen was insane. “I know they waived the two weeks in solitude considering your circumstances, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need it. Anakin needs -”

“As his master, I have the best idea of what Anakin needs.” Obi-Wan kept his voice flat, dispassionate. He wasn’t a child anymore, not that impetuous Initiate who yelled and stomped and screamed. Obi-Wan had drowned that anger under thick layers of Jedi robe years ago. “I appreciate and understand your concern. However, I ask for faith in my abilities to handle my padawan.”

“Oh, no. Not the ‘I Am A Perfect Jedi And You Are The Irresponsible Bugs Beneath My Feet’ voice.” Siri didn’t sound amused, as she normally would be while making fun of him. What was funny about speaking properly? “Don’t shut down on us.”

“I’ve never understood where you got the impression that Jedi don’t have feelings, Obi-Wan,” Bant scolded, “but you know it’s not true. Jedi feel their feelings. They feel them and release them. This is you repressing them. They’re just going to fester and get worse if you do that.”

“Yes, Bant. I recieved top marks in Philosophy 101, same as you.” Obi-Wan picked at his sealed up, the rims of thick juice sloshing in the corners, before forcing himself to stop. He forced his hands still on the table, pressing them down hard on the linoleum. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what good a confession would do to all of you. Obviously I miss my master. Obviously I’m all…very sad about it.” Obi-Wan jerked his shoulders in a half-shrug, ignoring everyone’s unimpressed looks. “What good will talking about it do? I have to remain focused. In the real world, you don’t get the luxury of hermitage.”

“Luckily, you’re not in the real world.” Bant’s wry tone imparted the air quotes around ‘real world’. “You’re home. You and Anakin are safe here.” Obi-Wan snorted. “Knight Kenobi, what was that?”

Uh oh. But Siri unknowingly came to his rescue, leaning forward with as intent and sympathetic expression as she could wring from her usually severe countenance. “Don’t give me that dung, Obi-Wan. I cried for a month after Master Tahl died. You were there for me every second of it. What, are you so special that you don’t need help? Are you so much better than us that you don’t feel what every sentient feels? Your ‘better than you’ attitude doesn’t make you better than yourself.”

Bant made a warbling sound of frustration. “Siri, let’s not insult the person we are trying to help.”

“It’s not my fault he’s so - look, this is about Anakin -”

A tightly wound rope of...of something bad snapped in Obi-Wan’s gut. “You don’t think I can handle him.”

“Nobody’s saying that, brother,” Quinlan said, placating for the first time in his life, “but it’s like I was just telling the little guy, right? Nobody can do this by themselves. Cultures that try to do it are - they’re just crazy!”

“None of you think I can do this,” Obi-Wan whispered harshly, trying to keep the - the bad thing locked tight inside, incapable. It wouldn’t stop overflowing, a cup that runneth over. “Nobody in this Temple thinks I’m capable of taking care of him. They don’t think he can be a Jedi. It’s my fault. It’s because he has such a fuck-up for a master.”

Everybody around him suddenly radiated extreme alarm in the Force in unison. Was it really that unusual for him to say the words that swirled around in his head every hour of the day?

“Obi-Wan, we’re the fuck-ups. I mean, me and Siri and Garen. You and Bant are the Rylothian angels here.”

“That’s not what everybody else thinks,” Obi-Wan said lowly. “I’ve always been tainted because of Qui-Gon. Now just being around me is going to taint Anakin. Everybody knows it.”

“Tainted?” Bant asked with alarm. What was alarming? “What are you talking about -”

But Obi-Wan barrelled through her, unwilling to hear whatever sweet and placating words she had for him today. He stood up, carefully stepping off the bench and fussily fixing his robes with hands that did not shake. “We are going to prove it to them. Anakin will become a Jedi. I will make Anakin a Jedi, if it’s the last thing I do.”

He swept off, feeling a little bit dramatic, feeling as if he had expelled the smallest amount of emotion he could. That was the least he could give, portioning out bits of himself to the hungry and braying crowd.

Why did they want these pieces of him so desperately? What was valuable about these hideous parts of Obi-Wan - the fear, the insecurity, the nightmares shaking him awake each night? People like Bant and Quinlan dug and dug and dug until they found what they were looking for, as if they wanted to prove something to themselves, to him, to the Jedi.

Prove that he was inferior. Prove that he was just as wild and angry as everybody always said. Prove that his flimsy mask of ‘A Perfect Jedi’ was nothing more than a stage actor placing a pulp-mache bantha’s head mask over his face and strutting about as if he was a king. Prove what Qui-Gon had always thought of him: that any love for him could only be held at arm's length, that a kid who needed to prove himself never required support or a helping hand, that there was no such thing as ‘good enough’ when you lived in competition with ghosts and shadows.

Prove what everybody knew, and what Obi-Wan could not hide.

***

When Obi-Wan got home, Anakin was lying on the ground committing atrocities upon the ravaged corpse of a pilfered library droid.

“Please start putting down a tarp when you do that,” Obi-Wan said. “You’ve been getting oil into the carpet.” He paused a beat. “And please stop sneaking away from chaperones.”

“But I need to practice sneaking away from good guys so I can be good at sneaking away from bad guys! And it’s not like I was caught.” Anakin didn’t look up at him, absorbed in his work. “That’s Jedi lesson three, right? ‘Do whatever you want, just don’t get caught’?”

“When had - why do -” Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting the one day exposure to Qui-Gon. But..in the face of that logic, Obi-Wan was forced to concede. It was objectively true. “Yes. But make an exception for me. Just don’t get caught by others.”

“You got it! Hey, pinch this wire for me.”

So Obi-Wan lay down on his stomach across from Anakin, staring at him from over a sea of rusty machinery. His round little face, somehow still clinging onto baby fat, was smooth as only a child’s could be. It was flaky and rough from the blistering heat of twin suns, but he had ointment now. His featherly light blonde hair would darken without its sunshine bleach, and it would grow long in limp brown shags. He would look like his mother - if, apparently, there was no father to speak of.

His expression was screwed up in concentration, tongue poking out of his teeth as he carefully screwed in a bolt where it likely was not intended to go. There was something strangely beautiful about him in that moment - an intelligence at work, a powerful focus rarely applied. He glowed in the Force like a sun, overwhelming and breath-taking.

But when Obi-Wan’s breath caught, he wasn’t sure if it was the Force. Maybe it was just Anakin. Could you fall in love like this? Just by looking at somebody, just by feeling how great they could be? Stronger than Obi-Wan, more righteous than Qui-Gon? Kinder than Master Dooku, more vibrant than Grandmaster Yoda?

Could he be better? Or would Obi-Wan only make him worse?

“Do you like my friends?” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Gimmie a min’.” Anakin finished screwing the bolt, huffing at the piece. “Bad. Gotta redo...what didya say?”

“Do you like my friends?”

“Oh!” Anakin brightened. “They’re super cool and awesome Jedi! They’re just like I thought Jedi would be. Bant’s a doctor! Did you know that?”

“I did.” A pang shot through Obi-Wan’s heart. “They’d be better teachers than I. I’m sorry, Anakin. I’m sorry you’re stuck with…”

“No way! I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s expression crumpled a little, although he bravely tried to keep it straight. He was already picking that up from Obi-Wan. “I’m why everybody keeps looking at us weird...it’s all my fault. All the Jedi hate us.”

“Anakin, no. The Jedi love all sentient beings.” Judging from Anakin’s expression, Obi-Wan was speaking straight bantha poodoo and acting as if the Corellian moons were made of cheese. “It’s true. They’d - they’d all help you. You don’t need to rely on me.”

Wires hissed and sparked. Anakin was quiet for a moment, stripping some wires with a deft, chubby hand and tying them together. He reached out to grab a blowtorch, but at Obi-Wan’s dangerous expression he carefully retreated his hand. It was a matter of time until he was using his lightsaber to solder metal. Incorrigible. Finally, Anakin said, “What Mr. Quinlan -”

“Knight Quinlan.”

“Knight Quinlan was talking about how you’re just there to guide me and teach me the Jedi way for a few years. And they all acted like the master and padawan thing is so special and great, but…” His face crumpled a little, overcome by an emotion he couldn’t name. “When we had to leave Mom behind...I thought that meant that you were going to be Mom now. But they aren’t going to let us. They’re going to make other people teach me because they don’t like you, and - and - and!”

Fat tears were rolling down Anakin’s cheeks, no matter how hard he scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. Obi-Wan quickly sat up and moved closer to Anakin, wrapping him in a hug and letting Anakin press his head into Obi-Wan’s tunic. He would probably have to get this one cleaned with Anakin’s robe. He didn’t know why he was focusing on that instead of Anakin’s hitched breaths as he tried to control his tears.

“Nobody’s going to take you away from me, Anakin.” That wasn’t what he meant to say. That was far too possessive. That hadn’t come out right. But what had Obi-Wan meant to say? “We all just want what’s best for you. You might be happier with the others.” Obi-Wan faltered. “You could be a normal child here. Take lessons. Play with the other children. Learn and grow and be happy. My padawanship, Anakin...it was dangerous and isolated. That’s the kind of life I’ve always lived. I don’t want to expose you to that.”

Anakin separated from him, eyes red-rimmed but dry. “They aren’t strong! All the kids and the old people here - they’re weak! Nothing bad’s ever happened to them, so they think sad people like us are freaks. But you’re strong, Obi-Wan. I want to be strong and just like you. I’m not embarrassed to be your padawan.” He faltered a little, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s okay that you’re sad and that I had to make food for a little bit. Mom would get sad sometimes too. She couldn’t leave bed and stuff. I would take care of Mom and make her food. I don’t mind making you food. The slaves all had each other, we did, but...Mom and I took care of each other. We can take care of each other. It’s just you and me. Right?”

Obi-Wan embraced Anakin tightly, fighting to control his breathing. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the correct way to do this. He had to be more like Qui-Gon - professional and strong and affectionate. Qui-Gon would have never let Obi-Wan cling to him like this, swearing an oath that neither of them should ever make.

Nobody was going to help them. None of them had ever forgotten how Obi-Wan had been a failure as a child, and none of them were ever going to forget where Anakin came from. No matter what they all said, their bright smiles and helping hands - none of them understood what it was like. It was just Obi-Wan and Anakin from now on.

In some strange way, it felt as if it had always been. As if Obi-Wan had only been alone, because he had not met or loved Anakin yet.

This wasn’t the kind of master Obi-Wan should be. He should be discouraging this desperation and neediness. But he couldn’t discourage it in himself, and he had no idea how to quench it in either of them.

As the Rylothians would say - if this was a sin, then hell had greater need of him than heaven.

He would put in the request for active mission duty. If Anakin grew up like he did - in the midst of adventure and hardship - then he could attain the strength he so desired. That was all Obi-Wan knew how to offer, and that was Qui-Gon’s legacy.

“It’s just you and me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan swore, and damned himself. “It’s just you and me…”

#star wars #sw #star wars fanfic #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #bant eerin #siri tachi #quinlan vos #this is the first and last star wars thing you will ever get from me #please don't ask the rationale i have secrets #i like to think that nothing bad happens in this universe #(it's not an AU but it's not NOT an AU? up to interpretation)#because Obiwan in canon is on anakin's ass about everything #and here he's just one of those single parents who's like 'ok so long as you're fed and not on fire i don't have energy to care #about anything else'#I think this was written from joking about how comedically and weirdly terrible obiwan's childhood was #and from my own personal feelings about the weird way the sw fandom understands communal childcare #and nonattachment #It Does Not Mean What You Think It Means (Because George Lucas Is A White Guy Buddhist!)#if you're wondering if the behavior by the jedi here is realistic or nomal or if it's positive or negative #I have lived in a monastery and it is the most accurate thing you will ever see in a SW fic #my writing

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arlert-angel · 4 years ago

Text

love fast, die young ☪

♡ jean x fem!reader

❥ you know that at any moment your life could be cut short as a scout, and the last thing you want is to die a virgin, so why not ask your best friend that you’re in love with for some help?

❥ wc: 5.8k

❥ cw: near death experience (reader), virgin!reader and virigin!jean, cannonverse but no plot, loss of virginity, slight size kink, cream pie, aftercare, fluff

❥ note: i was invested in the story of this one lol, it's a lot more romantic than i initially intended. they’re aged up, but the cannonverse details don’t make sense for the plot, so let’s pretend it does yay.

Arriving back from expeditions was always an exhausting feat within itself, sometimes more so than the actual expedition.

Commanding officers had to count their losses, healers had to tend to the wounded, and everyone who was good enough to stand had to report their kills and assists. Of course that was the immediate tasks that needed to take place, but then came the grief. Friends looked for one another, many people cried, and names could be heard shouted all around as everyone arrived at headquarters.

You weren't that different, but you were silent as you scanned the crowd looking for your tall best friend. You knew he was with the best of the best in Levi's squad, so you weren't too worried. However, you also knew the previous best had been wiped out before the new group came.

Anything could happen which made you all the more anxious.

You and Jean were not on the same squad. You first were offered a position on the Levi squad with the rest of your friends, but then Hange handed picked you to help them with their experiments, claiming they needed your mind to work with them. Hange is very likeable and now one of your closest friends, and at the time it seemed impossible to say no to them.

Hange's and Levi's squad tended to work together a lot and definitely trained together, so you didn't miss your friends too much. It was only when expeditions approached and new formations were made, when you had to be separated from the rest of your 104th pals.

You never complained about the separation. It wouldn't last forever, maybe a couple days at most, and then you return to laughing and working with the rest of your friends. You had no complaints until this particular expedition.

You had a close call.

In fact, so close, you might as well have kissed Death on the lips while you were so close to the afterlife.

The mission was going according to plan. It was a simple scouting mission in the mountains that were, for the most part, titan free. Your squad was on the left flank of the formation, near the edge of the mountains. The cliff sides surrounding you guys held a beautiful, yet slightly scary view. The drop had to be at least 300 feet.

You should've known something bad was going to happen as soon as Hange called out, "Hey, Y/N, check it out!" But you weren't thinking that hard, for the day had been so peaceful.

The path you all had taken was so close to the cliffs that the squad was riding single file for safety. There was enough room to pass one another, but you had to do so very carefully.

You rode ahead, passing Moblit. You sent him a questioning look as went by, but he only shrugged, not knowing what Hange was raving over. When you slid off your horse and next to Hange you saw what they did.

A very large cave.

"Should we go inside?" Hange looked at you, clearly excited, but it was an awful idea.

"No!" You tried to sound stern, knowing how they needed a firm rejection or they'd always get what they wanted, "Do you see the size of the thing? This looks like a comfy home for a 10 meter titan, maybe even 15 meter class if they hunched over."

"Do you think they'd crawl around in there?!" Their eyes widened and the familiar look that you've seen so many times on their face appeared. It was their usual expression they had when you conducted experiments with them. You swore to yourself how you fed their curiosity on accident.

"What's going on?" Moblit now arrived, wondering what the hold up was about.

"They want to go inside that death trap," You pointed at the ominous cavern in front of you all.

"You cannot be serious!" Moblit exclaimed in surprise, the volume echoing down the stone and dirt walls. Moblit continued his rant, stating the obvious, but you tuned their debate out. You just stared into what looked like an abyss.

There was no movement, no noise, not even the breeze seemed to reach here.

But for some reason you had a gut feeling. A gut feeling that saved all of your lives.

"Move!" You shoved Hange into Moblit which effectively knocked them both to the side of the cave and used your ODM gear to swing yourself to the opposite side.

The large hand reached out as you tried to get out of the way, but because you helped the others you weren't quick enough.

Luckily, the titan's grasp only managed to get tangled in your ODM wire and couldn’t quite reach your actual body.

Unluckily, the titan was managing to drag you like a ragdoll and if you didn't do anything quickly you would be engulfed in the darkness where it was hidden, and then probably engulfed in it’s stomach.

You had to think quick on your feet and so you drew your blades and slashed the wire on your gear all together. You could've attempted to slash at it's hands, but that was no guarantee. The wire was sliced with a clean snip.

Now you were free, you stumbled back at the loss of momentum. You took one two many steps back, and that last step didn't hit the gravely earth that the others had.

Your foot didn't hit anything at all.

You were about to fall off a cliff.

Ironic to escape death one way only to quite literally fall into its clutches another way.

But, you didn't fall.

Your eyes were squeezed shut in absolute terror, and when you opened them at the lack of free fall, you saw Hange.

They had managed to save you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back on solid ground. Moblit had been keeping the titan at bay, and continued to do so as you and everyone else turned their horses carefully around.

Thanks were shared by yourself, Hange, and Moblit at the different lucky saves. They praised your quick thinking and response. None of you actually saw the titan coming. You just knew. You seemed to recognize the familiar feeling of dread from the presence of a titan that wanted to eat you. Even if you couldn’t see it.

Hange continuously apologized on the way back, but it wasn’t really their fault. It’s not like you actually entered the cave like they wanted. And it was probably a good thing you guys stopped when you did. If the group rode past the cave something worse might have happened.

After that close call you wanted nothing more to find your best friend and have his familiar comfort.

"Y/N? Whatcha still doing out here?" You spun around quickly and saw Connie.

“Oh, hey! I’m just looking for Jean, have you seen him?” You didn’t want to panic, but it was weird to see Connie without Jean.

“Yeah! Mikasa killed this titan that had snuck up right above us and it’s blood got all over Jean it was so funny he screamed like a girl. But yeah, he went to the showers immediately,” Connie explained laughing at the memory. You laughed along and wished you could see it yourself.

“That’s funny, I should probably shower too, this mission felt particularly long,” You grumbled more to yourself than Connie, but he picked up on your off tone.

“Did something happen?” He asked genuinely concerned. You might’ve been closest to Jean, but Connie and Sasha were also very close to you. The four you always had the most fun together, and got in the most trouble.

“Kind of, a titan snuck up on us too, but we were near the cliffs so there wasn’t all lot of room to work with. I almost fell, but on the bright side I overcame my fear of heights,” You laughed, but it was more anxious than joyful.

“Oh shit, that’s awful!” Connie’s eyes widened in horror, “I'll tell Jean to come find you when I see him.”

“What why?”

“You were looking for him right? He’d definitely want to know that you’re okay after that. He worries a lot, you know? It’s always: I hope Y/N okay, where’s Hange’s squad again, I wish Y/N was here, Y/N would love this view. Someone has to tell him to shut up at least once every expedition.” Connie actually did an okay Jean impression as he ranted to you, but you didn’t comment on it.

You were too surprised. You didn’t know Jean worried about you. He never once came to you with any fears about expeditions. He always asked you what happened, but that’s just a normal conversation. It wasn’t too strange for someone’s best friend to think about them when apart. What was strange was the happy feeling you got knowing that Jean couldn’t shut up about you. A weird fluttery feeling danced in your stomach and you felt almost giddy.

Connie noticed your lack of response and noticeably paled.

“Fuck, wait, I didn’t tell you that! Jean’s gonna kill me, Y/N please don’t tell him I told you!” He grabbed onto you, begging. He shook you enough that it got you out of your confusing thoughts.

“Um, okay? I don't see what the big deal is. I think about Jean on expeditions too, that’s not weird right?” You smiled reassuringly and Connie’s whole body sagged in relief.

“Not at all! Have a nice shower!” Connie ran away, actually ran, trying to separate himself from that conversation. He thanked the Walls that you couldn’t read between the lines.

After that odd conversation you got a change of clothes and towel, and then headed towards the showers. You passed Sasha and Mikasa on the way in and they both gave you pleasant greetings, all parties glad to see each other alive and well.

You tried not to overthink, but the hot shower gave you all the time to do so.

Your thoughts jumped from almost dying, to Jean, to these overwhelming feelings you seemed to harbor.

You knew you loved Jean. You both even told each other sometimes. Your mind never wandered further than viewing Jean as your best friend only because you didn’t think that’s what he’d want.

When you first met Jean you had a small crush on him, admiring him from afar until Marco introduced the two of you. Once you grew closer and noticed his infatuation with Mikasa your feelings sizzled out in a bitter simmer. Your bitterness didn’t last long though, you were happy you had someone to rely on no matter what. After Marco passed, Jean was your crutch and vise versa. Romance would only make things confusing and besides you didn’t have any experience in the matter.

But now as you think more and more about him you wondered if those feelings ever went away. You thought about his laugh and stupid tone he gets when he tries to act cocky. You thought about his eyes and how pretty they look in the sunlight. You thought about his ability to read your mind without you having to tell him something’s wrong. He was your person.

You came to the conclusion that there definitely was something more than platonic there, but there was no certainty he felt the same. He would’ve said something by now. When he liked Mikasa he was so obvious, openly talking about her to everyone. You would’ve known something by now if it were the case, right? You knew he didn’t like Mikasa now, he told you explicitly for some reason, stating you needed to know. He also didn’t talk about liking anybody new.

Sighing in frustration, you turned off the shower, now squeaky clean. What was supposed to be a relaxing shower just stressed you out because of your stupid brain’s overthinking.

And it didn’t stop. As you dropped your messy uniform in the laundry, it reminded you of the day.

Today proved that any moment could be your last. Being in the scouts has always been dangerous, and you knew you were a disposable soldier. You didn’t mind it much, but now you realized how little you had experienced. You had never been drunk, your only kiss was with Marco in a game of truth or dare, and you were a virgin.

You didn’t want to die a virgin.

You thought of Jean. You wanted to be with him at least once before you died. You didn’t want to die without knowing how it felt to have everything with Jean. Your love for him definitely wasn’t platonic. You didn’t want to die without him knowing.

Your mind made up, you walked the halls with a little more determination than usual. You wandered around for only a couple minutes before running into Eren.

“Horseface is looking for you,” He pointed around the corner. You gave a quick thanks before quickly going in that direction only to collide with the person you were searching for.

“Y/N!” Jean surprised you by pulling you in a tight hug. As he pulled away he took note of the blush that was now on your cheeks, but didn’t comment. He also didn’t let you go completely, leaving his hands on your shoulders. Unable to help himself.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” You smiled genuinely, only slightly nervous now. Even with the giddiness he gave you, he still managed to calm you down.

“Me too, Connie said something happened with your squad, so I asked Hange about it and they told me everything,” His eyebrows were pulled into a worried furrow, “I wish you were in our squad.”

“Me too, but I like being with Hange too,” You stated honestly, “But it’s alright, everything worked out in the end.”

“Yeah, but you almost fell off a cliff! Y/N if I lost you I’d…” He cleared his throat before shaking himself out of his thoughts, “I’m just glad you’re okay. You said you were looking for me, what for?”

“Oh! Um…” You looked around and saw Eren eavesdropping blatantly with a knowing look, causing you to quickly turn back around, “Can I talk to you in my room about something?” You shift your weight from side to side, visibly jittery.

“Sure?” Jean was confused and noted you looked more flustered than before, but he couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong like he usually could.

You walked side by side, passing Eren along the way who gave you both a smug wave. When Jean wasn’t looking you turned around and gave him the finger. The walk was silent and your hands brushed each other softly.

Once you were behind closed doors you felt yourself relax a little more. It was just Jean, you hyped yourself up. Even if he did reject you the worst thing that could happen is him make a stupid joke out of everything, but you doubt he would. You knew he at least respected you.

“So, what’s so serious that you needed to be away from nosy Yeager?” So he did see that ass listening, you thought.

“Well… You know about my close call today… It got me thinking,” You started safely.

“You can think? Like, there’s a brain in there?” Jean acted surprised and grabbed your head teasingly.

“Shut up,” You laughed and slapped his hands away before adding, “It’s serious.”

“Okay,” He took a seat on your bed comfortably, an action that was not unusual, you hung out in each other’s room all the time. He gave you his full attention, no longer joking around.

“I thought about how at any moment we can die, that sounds morbid, but it’s true. And then I thought about all the stuff I haven’t done and all the things I haven’t said,” You explained further, still not getting to the point.

“So, you want to make a bucket list?” Jean tilted his head, trying to follow, “That’d be fun.”

“No,” You rolled your eyes lovingly, “I, more specifically, thought about all the stuff we haven’t done together.”

“Oh, you want to make a bucket list together!” Jean perked up.

“Jean stop trying to guess and let me explain,” You laughed and he complied, pretending to zip his lips shut.

“Jean,” You approached the man, invading his personal space, “I don’t want to die a virgin, do you?”

“No…” Jean blushed at the sudden topic change, wondering why on earth you were bringing that up right now.

“And… I love you, and I know you'd treat me right,” You cupped his cheeks in your hands. You were standing in between his legs now, him leaning back on his hands looking up at you. He was tall, so he didn’t have to tilt his neck that much.

“I love you too, what are you going on about?” His face was drawn in clear confusion, a cute expression, if he wasn’t being so frustrating.

“No, Jean,” You leaned impossibly close, your face right in front of his, “I’m in love with you.”

Then you boldly straddled him before you planted your lips on him.

You were shy, unsure if he would reciprocate the kiss, and it seemed like he wasn’t. You panicked instantly. Your heart was pounding and you pulled away. You were terrified you screwed everything up. You looked at him and he seemed to be frozen.

“Jean?” You worriedly looked at your catatonic friend whose eyes were wide in shock, “I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry! Please don’t hate me!” You began to try to climb off him, but his hands shot to your hips, holding you in place.

“Y/N, you’re in love with me?” He still seemed to be stunned, or maybe he didn’t believe you, but he held your gaze with serious eyes.

“Yes,” You made sure to keep eye contact despite the heat that rose to your cheeks, to make sure he knew you were dead serious.

“Good,” One of his hands left your hips to your cheek. He guided your mouth back to his.

He was kissing you. He was actually kissing you. It was slow and sweet at first. He stroked your cheek lovingly and your lips slowly moved in sync. It was when you repositioned yourself on his lap, accidently grinding into him, when the kisses started to become more feverish. He groaned into your mouth and the hand left your face and found it’s new home on your ass. He squeezed it harshly, making you gasp. He took the opportunity to introduce his tongue to yours. He surprised you when he sucked on your tongue, making a small whimper escape you.

Jean pulled away, taking in your flustered state with blown pupils of his own. Both of your lips were swollen and you both needed to catch your breath.

“I love you too, you know?” Jean pushed some of your hair out of your face with a soft smile, “I figured you didn’t feel the same and wanted to just be friends, so I didn’t say anything.”

“I thought the same, or that you might still like Mikasa,” You admitted shyly, looking down where your bodies met.

“Hey,” He tilted your chin so you held eye contact again, “That was a stupid crush when I was kid, and I told you that ended a long time ago, didn't I? I’m in love with you.”

“We were so stupid keeping it to ourselves,” You laughed and Jean openly admired you in what looked like awe. His gaze made you feel bashful, almost wanting to hide your face with your hands.

“We were, I could have been kissing you so much sooner,” Jean mumbled, already leaning back to you. This time when your lips met your tongues danced together immediately. You knew Jean also didn't have much experience, but with the way he kissed it seemed like he did.

"Did you mean what you said?" Jean pulled away only for a moment to ask before returning right back to your lips.

You pulled away, trying to decipher what he was referring to. "Wha–" Your breath hitched when you felt Jean kiss your pulse on your neck. He began sucking on a particular spot that made you moan, surprising both of you.

"You're so beautiful," He commented then explained, "Did you mean what you said about that virgin stuff?" He seemed shy all of sudden, his hands were sliding from your hips to your thighs, almost like he was trying to soothe himself.

"I meant every word," You said honestly, "I want to experience all of you."

"God," Jean seemed to like that statement, "I don't know what I'm doing, so just know I'm learning as I go. Just tell me what you like and don't like."

"Of course," You gave him a reassuring smile, "I'm not worried, I trust you."

"Good," He said again before spinning you around and lightly throwing you on your bed. He hovered over you, not putting much, if any weight on you. He resumed the make out session, but this time letting his hands wander.

He first tugged at your shirt, which you helped him quickly pull over your head. You hadn't worn a bra, assuming your plans for this evening were eating then just passing out.

Jean seemed to drink your body in, just staring in lust and awe.

"You can touch me," You tried to sound reassuring, but it sounded more like a beg.

Jean took your breasts in his large hands and just felt you. You almost laughed at how mesmerized he looked, but that was when he latched his mouth on your nipple. That action seemed to send a current of electricity straight to the heat in between your legs. You arched your back and let out a surprised moan which made Jean quickly pull away.

"Did I hurt you?" He looked scared.

"No, it feels good," You murmured as you unconsciously rolled your hips wanting friction.

"Oh, that's good," He shot you a grin before throwing his own shirt to the side. He went back to kissing your chest, this time his hand tweaked the nipple he wasn't sucking on, causing even more pleasure. You bit your lip only letting out whimpers, a little embarrassed of moaning so loudly again.

"J-Jean," You stuttered out, gripping his broad shoulders.

"Hmm?" He hummed, he had been having fun leaving purple marks across your tits.

"I-I need…" You didn't finish.

"What do you need, princess?" He asked genuinely, but his deep tone sent shivers down your spine.

"More, I don't know," You admitted.

"Okay, don't worry," He gave you a peck, "I'll take care of you."

He began taking off your pants, helping you get them off your ankles. He stood to take off his own pants as you admired him. His body was so toned from the life of being a soldier. As you took him all in your eyes landed on the bulge that was very prominent in his briefs and for the first time you felt nerves about having sex with him.

"Jean, how the hell is that supposed to fit in me?" You didn't even see it out of it's cage, you couldn't imagine that monster in action.

"It has to fit right? People have sex all the time," Jean looked down at his own dick before looking at your panties with a frown, "I'll make sure to stretch you out with my fingers to help."

"What do you mean?" You blushed as Jean returned his body on top of you, giving you warmth again. This time putting a little more weight than last time. You could feel his restrained cock against you this time.

"You know, fingering, you've done it to yourself before right?" Jean asked curiously.

"I've tried, but I couldn't reach any particular spots that made me feel good, so I mostly just got off with my clit," You explained, a little embarrassed.

"Well, I have long fingers," Jean began to slip off your last item of clothing. You gulped nervously, you now were exposed completely to him.

"So pretty, and you're wet," He groaned and looked back up to you, "Open your mouth."

You almost asked why, but you didn't want to kill the mood, so you complied. Jean slid two fingers into your mouth and you got the message. You wrapped your lips around his fingers and hollowed your cheeks, sucking on them.

"Fuck," He sighed out and you felt him twitch against you.

He pulled his fingers out and moved them back between your legs. He first slowly thrusted one finger inside you, to get you used to the unfamiliar feeling. The stretch wasn't too painful, and he was definitely right. His fingers were longer.

He moved the one finger in and out of you slowly at first, picking up the pace as he continued. When he felt you relax completely he added a second finger. This time the stretch was a little more, making you tense.

"You're so tight," Jean was watching your pussy in wonder and slid his body down, so his face was near it.

"What are you– Oh my God," Jean's lips sucked on your clit softly, then continuously kitten licked it, all while maintaining his finger thrusts.

"You taste good," Jean said it so casually, you'd think he was talking about the weather. He removed his fingers for a moment to get a better taste. He kissed you directly on your cunt before penetrating you with his tongue. He moaned against you, sending vibrations into you. You tried to unconsciously escape the pleasure, your thighs attempting to close, but Jean's large hands held you down.

He returned his fingers inside you and this time adding a third. It stung more than before, but Jean's mouth on your clit made you forget all about the uncomfortableness. He began curling his fingers inside you reaching a spot that instantly had a knot forming in your stomach. Your hands shot around you, one gripping the sheets and the other in Jean's hair.

He latched onto clit again and you gave up on trying to quiet your moans, embarrassment be damned, it felt too good.

"Jean," You moaned his name, which only made him moan back in return, "I-I'm going to…" You whined a little, not quite there yet, but right on the edge.

"You're going to cum?" Jean asked, not even completely pulled away from your clit to do so, "Go ahead and cum on my fingers, baby." He quickened his strokes and returned to your clit. It was just enough to send you over.

You grinded into his hand and cried out. Jean moaned too as if he was being pleasured just at the sight of you or maybe it was because of the sensation of your tight pussy clamping around his fingers. He couldn't help himself and licked up some of your release, making you jump.

He moved back up to you with a content smile, "Did that feel good?"

"Yeah," You smiled back through half lidded eyes, still buzzing from the pleasure.

He gave you a deep kiss and you could taste yourself on him. Tasting your own saccharine flavor was strangely erotic.

Jean pulled away, "Is it alright if I take my cock out?" He asked beforehand just in case you changed your mind.

"Yeah, of course, I want to see the monster that's going to destroy me," You joked and earned yourself a cocky smirk.

Jean took off the only clothing that was separating the two of you. You glanced down and saw his size more visibly now. You were right to be intimidated before, he was huge. Jean seemed to take note of your apprehensive expression so he returned to giving you some kisses in order to soothe you.

“We’ll take it slow and if it’s too much just tell me,” Jean assured you which helped calm you down.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Your eyes met as he began to rub the head up and down between your folds, collecting its wetness. He rubbed it over your clit and back down, making you feel particularly tingly. When he started pushing the head inside you had to remind yourself to not tense up, but it was hard. He was stretching a lot more than his fingers did. His cock added an unfamiliar pressure inside you that his fingers didn’t.

“God, that’s just the head and you're already squeezing me,” Jean threw his head back trying to regain composure. It was also his first time and he did not want to embarrass himself by finishing quickly. Also the gentlemen inside him wanted to feel you cum around him first.

He slowly continued to push further in as you grabbed his arms to brace yourself. When he finally bottomed out you swore you could see the bulge on your tummy. He kept still and waited for you to give him the go ahead even though he had the incredible urge to just thrust forward.

“You alright?” Jean's voice was more strained than usual.

“Yeah, why the fuck you gotta be so big, Jean,” Which only made Jean smile and give an apology kiss. You took a few more moments getting used to the stretch when the pleasure overtook the pain. You felt the veins on his cock inside you. You felt so full, but so good. You grinded into him trying to feel more and Jean noticed.

“I’m going to start moving now,” Jean warned and began pulling back before snapping his hips forward. You both cried out how he filled you up, your walls fluttering around him.

The pace was unrushed and steady to begin with. He withdrew his cock only to plunge it back into you, hitting you deep, in a repetitive matter. You felt the pleasure everywhere, all the way in your toes.

You started meeting his thrusts, moving your hips in order to do so. Jean hitched your leg higher which only made you feel him deeper, hitting a sweet spot that caused you to gasp.

“You can go faster,” You said breathlessly, “Please, Jean, it feels so good.”

“Fuck,” Jean moaned back, his slow deep thrusts turned into a quick pounding. He continuously hit that new spot every time. Your whimpers turned into uncontrollable moans. Not wanting to make too much noise you buried yourself into the crook of his neck, sucking and biting his skin.

You briefly looked down where your bodies met and saw him pumping out of you, your slick covering his cock and your thighs. The sight made your eyes roll back into your head.

“Please,” You moaned into Jean who brought his hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Please, what? What do you want, princess?” He grunted a bit after, not once did he lose his pace.

“I want… Ah… Please, I don’t know,” You felt like you could cry, you were right on the edge. You didn’t know what you needed, but you felt too good to try to figure it out. You figured he was close too by the way he was twitching inside your pussy and his thrusts became a little more desperate.

“Open,” Jean brought his fingers back to your mouth, groaning at the sensation. He kept them there for a few more moments than necessary, just enjoying the way you looked with your pretty lips wrapped around him.

Then he brought them between your legs and began rubbing your clit at the same pace he was thrusting into you.

“J-Jean, I’m gonna cum,” You grabbed his wrist, almost overwhelmed by the feeling.

You cried out his name as your pussy milked him, triggering his own release. He groaned your name as he came. You felt the warmth of him spill deep inside you and it made your pussy tremble all the more. He gave a few final thrusts before slumping on top of you.

“Look at me while you cum, princess, come on, cum on my cock,” He encouraged you. You held eye contact for as long as you could, but when that coil in your tummy snapped you had to squeeze your eyes shut in absolute bliss.

“We definitely should’ve done that sooner,” He mumbled into your hair, making you giggle.

“Definitely,” You echoed back.

He slid out of you after that, making both of your bodies shudder at the loss of connection. You pussy still trying to pulse around something.

“I just showered,” You commented with a frown, looking at the mess between your legs.

“I’ll go get a towel?” Jean offered, and you gave him a nod. He redressed quickly, kissed you deeply, then stated he would be back soon.

You threw your shirt back on while you waited. You felt so sleepy after that. Even though you wanted to feel clean, you wished you cuddled with Jean some more, already missing him.

After a couple more minutes the silence was broken.

“I knew it!” You heard Eren’s familiar voice shout from outside your door and you sat up confused.

“Shut the fuck up before I hit you!” You heard Jean’s voice shout back and then a few more quieter exchanges that you couldn’t make out from the two men. Then your door opened fast, Jean slipping quickly inside, locking it behind him. In one hand he had a warm towel and in the other he had a new set of sheets.

“What happened?” You pointed at the door and Jean scowled.

“Apparently those assholes bet on when we’d finally hook up,” Jean explained before cleaning you up. You blushed as he took care of you. Despite what just took place you still felt embarrassed. Jean noticed and just pecked your cheeks.

“That’s kind of funny, we should’ve placed our own bets,” You hummed and stood shakily, grabbing a new pair of underwear as Jean changed your sheets for you.

“I can’t believe Eren won,” Jean frowned, but when your arms wrapped around him from behind he couldn’t help but smile.

“Will you stay with me? I kind of want to nap,” You mumbled into his back.

“Of course,” You both returned to your bed this time with more innocent intentions.

Jean laid on his back and you threw your arm around his chest and your leg over his, snuggling up into his side.

“I don’t want to die,” You murmured sleepily.

“You won’t,” Jean stated firmly.

“How do you know?” You looked up at him.

“Because we both have something to live for,” He met your gaze softly, before kissing your head again.

You told each other you loved another once again before you both fell asleep. It was a sleep where neither of you had the common nightmare about your untimely deaths.

Instead it was a sleep where you both dreamt of the future you now could have with one another.

#this was so much more fluff than i wanted lol #aot smut #aot #aot jean #jean x reader #jean kirschstein #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein smut #attack on titan #mikasa ackerman #hange zoe #aot eren #eren aot #connie springer #arlert angel

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bcdwhcre · 4 years ago

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“Pain,” Levi x Reader

Summary: a love story that ends tragically

Soft boyfriend Levi🤧🥺

Warnings: angssssst, like PAIN pain.

One mistake.

One mistake was all it took.

You didn’t think the plan through enough, you didn’t slice the blade hard enough, you didn’t do anything good enough.

Levi had woken up to soft kisses being planted on his face, him wanting to sleep in weighed heavily on his body while you grew too impatient for him to wake up on his own. Your fingertips danced around his bare chest, your chin resting on the palm of your hand as you admired him.

“C’mon, it’s already ten in the morning, that’s a little too long for Levi.” You teased, running your hand up his chest and grabbed a hold on his chin before you planted another kiss on his lips then another then another until he grabbed the back of your head and kept you in place as his lips danced with yours.

You pulled back, breathless, and he smirked up at you before he had rolled over on top of you. He had you trapped on the mattress and you instantly gulped, looking up at his sleepy eyes while his hair hung down over your face, his bare chest inches away from yours and your cheeks grew hot.

Levi had chuckled at your nervous state, laying his body on yours and rested his head on top of your chest, cuddling into you like a baby and you slipped your arms around him, rubbing your hand up and down the skin on his back, earning a low hum from him in response.

“The mission is tonight... right?” You brought up, making him groan before answering in a low tone.

“No need to remind me but yes.” Levi wanted to enjoy this moment with you, they were rare to have them and he didn’t want to ruin it in anyway, neither did you.

Another mission had to be done tonight and you really didn’t want to go but it obviously had to be done, it was too important to pass up and that made your nerves increase as you tried to cuddle your boyfriend closer to you.

Your arms gripped onto him tighter, your fingers tangling up in his messy hair and your legs hooking around his hips, making Levi move his head to look up at the side of your face, nudging his nose against your cheek.

“What’s the matter?” He said barely above a whisper, one of his hands on your waist and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I just have a bad feeling about tonight. A hunch.” You felt stupid once you said it out loud, a hunch wasn’t a reliable source to go off of but you couldn’t help the overwhelming anxiety clouding your head.

“A hunch? Why’s that?”

“I just do, Lev.” You shook your head, trying to brush it off and wanting to long forget about it.

Levi fully moved his head to look down at your fear filled eyes, tilting his head and he reached up to brush your hair back, not knowing what to say but he tried his best to comfort you gently.

He planted a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger there for a few seconds and pulled back to meet your gaze again, grabbing a hold on your chin with his hand.

“You’re overthinking it, Y/N. Everything will be alright and we’ll be back tomorrow morning and we’ll celebrate.” He smirked, running his tongue over his lips before placing one last kiss to your mouth before slipping out of bed.

You had whined at the loss contact when he got up, watching his bare back before he slipped on his white button up, his muscles flexing slightly as he pushed it on his shoulders and turned towards you while buttoning it up.

“Get your ass up, come on.”

Hours had went by faster than what you would like, you and Levi had stayed in your bedroom for most of the day until it grew closer to the time where the scouts had to leave.

You had shoved on your uniform, putting your hair up in a messy bun and zipped up your boots before you walked down the hallway to the room where all the scouts stood in, ready to be given orders by the Commander himself.

“We all know what the plan is, do what is needed to be done so we can hurry home.” Erwin simply said, not wanting to waste any time to start the expedition.

You had gathered up your horse, sighing under your breath as the anxiety in the pit of your stomach grew. Your anxiety has never been this bad but there was just something about today that made you want to puke.

Levi noticed when he saw your hands shaking while grabbing onto the rope, he stood behind you and grabbed a hold on your hand.

“Hey, if you’re not feeling okay then stay here.” He whispered from behind you and you shook your head repeatedly, turning your head just a bit to glance at him.

“No, I’m fine. Ive trained for this.” You assured him you were fine and he helped you jump on your horse, placing his hand on your thigh and gave it a squeeze.

“I love you.” He said loud enough for only you to hear, giving you a small smile and turned to get on his own horse.

All scouts had rode off in the distance, your coat secured around your body and your hood up over your head. You rode behind Levi with the cadets, the closer you all had gotten to the place, the more your stomach had cramped up, twisting and turning.

You had went in your position when you arrived, standing on top of the wall and held onto one of the blades, your eyes looked up at the night sky as the moon shined bright enough above, making the nightly Titans awake and dangerous.

“A Titan on the left!” You heard a cadet scream, shooting up a flare to make everyone aware and you had glanced over at the Titan who was running over.

Shortly behind him, there comes a big crowd of Titans and you gasped under your breath, hearing another couple flares being shot off in the distance.

This wasnt apart of the plan.

You used your gear, jumping off the giant wall and shot your hook to dig into the cement as you swung up in the air, flying across the sky towards the Titans and spun out both blades as you managed to easily take down the first one.

Another Titan was quick to reach for you and even wrapped his hand around your small frame, close to crushing you until you use the blades to slice up his hand and cut off his fingers.

It had been almost an hour and more Titans continued to come and you were starting to become tired and drained, same with the other cadets.

Levi had tried to keep his eyes on you but he was busy on his own trying to take down as many Titans as he can. There was something about the amount of Titans coming in their direction, like they were being told to all come here at the same time and that made Levi uneasy, maybe you were right about the hunch.

You had dropped the dull blades, putting new ones in and as the sweat gathered on your forehead, you leaped towards another Titan but this one was acting more different than the others.

He was far more intelligent and you had been distracted for a mere second until his large hand had grabbed onto you in an instant, in less than a second he had squeezed you enough to crack a few bones in your small body causing a loud scream of agony left your parted lips.

Levi’s head snapped towards you, the fear washing over his face and he had jumped, using the ODM gear to try to reach you fast enough but deep in his mind he had known he wouldn’t make it.

“Y/N!” He shouted, making your head turn towards him while the blood had slid down the side of your face.

Your vision began to blur, your eyes meeting the Titans large ones as he stared at you and you felt like everything was going in slow motion. His mouth opened, giving you a view of his big teeth and in that one minute, you knew it you were in a situation you wouldn’t get out of.

His hand had crushed you harder, making your body completely numb and a gush of blood splash your face and the Titan had let his grip on you go as you started to fall, you were too weak to use the gear attached to your waist and you couldn’t even focus your eyes on anything.

Levi had sliced the Titans nape, his eyes on you as you fell and he tried to dive to you, shooting the hook up in the Titans body to stable himself. Your eyes met his as tears began to sting his eyes, everything was coming to a reality.

I won’t make it, I won’t make it, I won’t make it.

Levi repeated to himself in his head, reaching his arms out towards you and he had thought of the last minute resort. He didn’t want to but, it was the only option to not let you land on the hard ground that would definitely kill you instantly.

He grunted, shooting the other hook down and watched it slice through your shoulder, making him wince at the sight of it but it prevented you from hitting the ground and you hung on the wire, slowly going in and out of consciousness.

Levi landed on the ground, quickly grabbing you and ripping the hook out from your shoulder, looking behind him as he saw the Titans come closer.

“Levi, you need to get on the wall!” Erwin shouted towards him and he glanced down at you, not wanting to move your body anymore considering how crushed and beaten it was.

But he managed to shoot up the wall, carefully laying you down once he made it to the top. Your eyes couldn’t focus on anything, even the moon was a blur to you until Levi’s face came into your view, the weak smile on your face made him panic.

“Hey, are you okay? Can you feel what’s broken? Can you move your legs? Arms?” He rushed out, half of it you couldn’t even hear, it was like he was far away whispering to you.

“Lev,” You choked out, your body completely paralyzed and your eyes closing and opening repeatedly.

“Y/N, please, move something for me.” He was convinced you were paralyzed, shit, he was convinced that you were dead and your brain was still functioning for the last time.

“Fuck, hey, Y/N, don’t close your eyes, keep them on me.” You never seen Levi this scared but your brain still couldn’t fully processed why he was scared and why he was panicking. was something happening?

You opened your eyes again, keeping them on his and your weak broken arm had moved slightly, just to reach up and grab a hold of his face. You were clueless and he could tell that this may be your last moments and your brain was tricking you into thinking you were fine so you wouldn’t go out in pain.

Levi’s face had been full of blood mixed with tears, his hand gently grabbing your wrist while the other had brushed the loose strands of hair from your face. He should’ve trusted your hunch, he knew you always had a good feeling about things but he was stupid, he wanted this plan to go good and now look at you, dying before his eyes and he couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it, you were too far from the walls, you were too far from a real doctor.

“Levi, why are you crying?” You mumbled, your thumb swiping across his cheek to wipe them away and you frowned at how upset your boyfriend looked.

“It’s nothing,” He lied, giving you a pained smile and he leaned down to place a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Are you sure? You can tell me anything, Lev.” You assured him, placing your palm on his warm flushed cheek and he couldn’t help but choke on his own sobs.

“I just,” He started off, closing his mouth as he tried to put himself together just for you but it was damn near impossible to control his sobs that formed a big lump in his throat.

“I love you so much, don’t forget that, please.” His breath was shaky, everything around them had frozen still.

He had completely forgotten about the Titans, his main focus on you as he tried his best to make you as comfortable as possible but deep down he was dying inside, hating himself for not being able to help you or take you back home.

“I love you just as much, Levi.” Another weak smile spread across your face before you started to choke up blood, letting him know it was nearing time.

“Levi?” You coughed again, still clueless on your surroundings until it had suddenly clicked in your brain.

His sobs had gotten louder and more obvious, the pain written across his face and the way he was repeating I love yous and placing kisses on your hand and on your face.

I’m dying?

You thought to yourself, furrowing your eyebrows and looking back up at your broken down boyfriend. He looked like a frightened little boy, latching onto your body tighter and held you in his lap, not being able to handle his emotions as they spilled out in front of you.

“Yea?” He barely whispered, cupping your cheek as your head laid against his arm as he held you close to him.

“Don’t be upset, please.. those cadets out there, they need you.”

“But I need you,” A whimper slipped past his lips and you couldn’t help but feel your heart break inside your chest.

“I’m always here, I always will be here. I’m not leaving you, Lev.” He stared at you, taking in uneven breaths as he shook his head.

“Levi, look at me.” Your voice was starting to crack and your body started growing cold. Levi was beginning to notice as he made eye contact with you, his bottom lip trembling.

“I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. I just wanted you to know that you made me happier than I’ve ever been in a long time.” You admitted, another big cough of blood had came up, burning your throat in the process.

You started to have trouble taking full breaths, your vision becoming blurry once again but you made sure to keep them on Levi, you needed to at least. And as you laid there, taking your last few breaths you had heard one last I love you from Levi as well as his lips on your forehead before it had went dark.

Levi stared down at you for what felt like hours, your eyes closed and your chest stopped rising minutes ago. He knew you were gone but he didn’t want to believe it. He hated him, he absolutely hated himself.

As his tears flood his cheeks, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at Hange as she gestured him that it was ready to go.

He didn’t leave your body though, he risked carrying you back on his horse. He wanted to give you a proper burial, it’s what you deserved. He kept you in his arms as he rode back to the main wall they stayed behind, he had put his coat over your face, he couldn’t handle looking at you as you laid there lifeless.

Everyone was quiet, they knew not to speak to Levi or even comfort him in anyway, they decided to let him mourn and do what he thought was right for him and that was getting home.

Erwin had helped bury you by the river behind the wall, close to where the base was at. He knew you liked coming here, you two actually came here a lot so he thought the area was perfect for you.

After it was done, he sat beside your burial site by himself and looked up at the stars. He had cried too much to the point where he was now emotionless and his cold stare was up at the sky, not knowing how to really feel.

He had held your coat in his hands, his fingers running over your badge that was stitched on and he closed his eyes, just for a second so he could see your face in his thoughts.

But pain was still all he felt.

Bruuuuh when I tell you I am crying over my own imagine—

I’m so sorry for anyone that reads this lmao

Send requests tho🤧

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#levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman x reader #levi fanfic #levi imagines #levi imagine #levi x reader #levi Ackerman #aot levi #aot imagines #levi headcanons #aot headcanons #aot fanfic

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bokettochild · 3 years ago

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All Trussed Up and Nowhere to Go

Whumptober Day 1!

Apologies if this isn't as whumpy as my other stuff. When I set out to write whump specifically it never quite comes out...

Anyways, have Twilight and Hyrule suffering together!

There were many places Twilight would rather be at the moment. Many places that a wolf belonged, or a hero even; in the forest, with his brothers, curled up in front of the fire at Lon Lon Ranch or in Legend’s house...

To be honest though, we would have taken fighting the crashing waves of Wind’s Hyrule mid-storm over the sharp pain that pierced through his fur and dug into his flesh.

He’s been chasing a stray moblin away from camp. It had been the only one to escape their battle yesterday and it had come back after the others were settled down for bed. It didn’t make sense to wake the whole camp so that they could kill it, not with it being alone, so instead he’d asked Legend, who wasn’t sleeping anyways and was busy staring up at the stars like he did on some nights, to watch the camp. For all the vet knew, he was just taking a leak, or stretching his legs. At any rate, Legend had agreed and pulled himself up onto the rock Twilight had been using as a perch so he could see out beyond the camp better, and once the vet was secure, he’d grabbed his sword and headed off into the forest.

The moblin was smart, of course it was! It was probably infected too! And somehow the trail had disappeared after a while. Not that that meant anything to a wolf.

Twilight had let the dark power wash over him, shifting him easily into his shadow form at he leapt through the woods after the scent of the filthy monster. It wasn’t hard to track the beast after that, and he’d sped through the woods at the monster's tail, snapping and snarling enough to drive his quarry mad with fear as his teeth came within inches of the monster's flying limbs.

He hadn’t even seen the fence.

The ‘blin had sprung the fence with ease, a bit of downed wire that some farmer had left un-repaired for one reason or another, likely unconcerned with it in the wake of the animals having either escaped or having been moved. Twilight wished the owner had bothered though, as sharp barbs had pierced through his paws, tangling around his legs as he whined and writhed away, only serving to further entangle himself.

No amount of snapping and pushing, pulling and struggling had done anything to free his paws, and once he’d gotten his muzzle snagged in the pointed iron, the wolf had eventually fallen still, only soft whines escaping him as the wire continued to dig into him. Moving only hurt more anyways, and he was beginning to doubt, when the others did eventually find him, that his face and wrists wouldn’t be scarred for life from this.

He was good at waiting though, bound or not, and he kept his ears pricked for the sound of boots stomping through the forest after him or the voices of his brothers and mentor calling out his name in concern. But no matter how good a person is at waiting; he had hoped it wouldn’t take so long.

The distance to camp was a long way, that was all, it was fine, the others were probably searching for him the minute Legend realized he’d been away for too long, right? The silence of the forest was his only answer, and Twilight prayed that the moblin had had the good sense to keep running away, rather than trying to sneak back to camp.

Oh Ordonia! What if the moblin had just been a scout? What if the others were under attack from monsters he had dismissed as all being dead? It wasn’t as if the shadow hadn’t brought monster to them through portals the very same day that they had killed them or otherwise destroyed his forces. What if the camp was overrun? What if they were all barely holding on, waiting for his help? Waiting for their tank of a rancher to bust through the undergrowth, or Wolfie, to destroy a monster about to get a good hit in on one of them?

“Twilight?”

The wolf breathed a deep sigh of relief, only to whimper at the wire digging further into his sides and muzzle at the movement. The sound seemed to catch the attention of the speaker, because only moments later there was the almost imperceptible sound of boots padding softly over the ground, and Hyrule’s freckled face swam into vision.

The traveler was breathing hard, brows pinched in worry as he took in their wolf friend. Barbed wires had become tangled around the wolfs paws, trailing up his legs where they’d tanged and trapped the beast. Wolfie’s muzzle was similarly trapped, and crimson blood trailed across nose and paws both into the ground as the wolf’s midnight blue eyes stared sorrowfully up at the traveler.

“Wolfie.” Hyrule choked out, kneeling down and gently running his hands through the long fur. Twilight could only whimper in response, a soft cry for help that he hoped his brother would understand. The young hero frowned, eyes darting to the forest briefly before back down to whimpering wolf beneath his fingers. “I’m supposed to find Twilight but-” The kid shook his head resolutely, eyes flashing golden in the early morning light. “The others will find him. Don’t worry Wolfie, I’ll get you free, alright?”

Had Twilight been able, he would have breathed a soft thank you to the kid. Hyrule was his best option to be honest, the kid knew the most about survival and healing, even barring the training Warriors had received or Wild’s many experiences.

That thanks didn’t last for long however when Hyrule screamed in pain.

Lupine ears flicked forwards, a hesitant sound escaping him as he stared at where Hyrule sat cradling his hand, tears springing in at the corners of his eyes as he stared at the wires bound around his friend.

“Iron, oh shit.” Hyrule huffed a deep breath, shooting him a weak smile before turning his keen eyes onto the wires wrapped around his brother. “Barbed too, oh you poor thing. Both of us poor things, Legend’s gonna have my hide when I get back.” Another wince as the kid glanced up into the woods. “But they’re all looking for Twilight still, I-”

He could very likely smell the hesitance and conflict that made Hyrule pause and bite his lip, if it weren’t for the blood already trailing across his nose and making it hard to smell anything save for the bitter tang of copper.

“I can handle it. It’s just a bit of iron, right? I’ll just drink a potion when we get back. I’ll be fine.” Wait, why would Hyrule need a potion? What happened?

Despite the barbs that dug into him, Twilight shifted to inspect Hyrule better, worry brewing inside him as his gaze traveled over dirt flecked fabric and slightly scratched hands. That would be from the barbs and likely the trees as well, but it wasn’t anything to warrant drinking a potion; probably just a salve and some bandages, the same as Twilight himself would need.

Unfortunately for all involved, probably and definitely are not the same, and as soon as Hyrule turned his attention to the fencing wrapped around his friend, there was another sharp whimper of pain.

Had he been able to see, Twilight would have stared and watched, trying to figure out what bothered the traveler so much. The kid had once been stabbed and walked it off as nothing, (Legend had been utterly furious and Sky had cried) so it couldn’t be from the pain, not when simply touching the wire was, at worst, an annoyance when you got your fingers pricked. He’d know, he’d spent ages out under the sun unrolling and binding the stuff in place with the other farmers of Ordon. It was always the best choice to keep the larger livestock in, although the smaller ones had a tendency to jump over it altogether.

But again, what should be and what is are two different things, and the longer Hyrule worked the more the kid seemed to be in pain. It was only after Hyrule’s fingers had brushed over his own nose, pulling away the barbs and freeing his face, that he’d smelled it.

Something was burning.

And it wasn’t the pleasant smell of burning wood, or the ashy one of fabric disintegrating into flames. It was the smell of meat left over the fire too long, so that it jumped and danced at the flesh of whatever animal it was until it was blackened and raw. And worse yet, it was right under his nose.

Hyrule choked back a sob as he pulled another wire loose from dark fur.

Pain stirred in his chest as he stared up into Hyrule’s face, the kid’s jaw set and brows furrowed, blinking furiously at the tears that welled up in his eyes as wire after wire was cut or pulled free from the canine-shifters flesh.

He’s in pain.

Hyrule’s blackened fingers swiped at his tears briefly, and the whole world stopped.

Black.

Hyrule’s black fingers.

Smoke sizzled off of the traveler’s hands, skin glowing softly with a hiss as Hyrule went back to work, but Twilight’s mind was already rushing, and in instants he was pulling himself away as best as he could, barking furiously and snapping when Hyrule’s hands came closer.

Why had Hyrule never said he was fae? Great Ordonia! The kid was going to destroy his hands if he kept this up! He wasn’t supposed to touch iron! He couldn’t! Why hadn’t he just called for help?

“Wolfie, I’m almost done, stop!” The traveler pleaded, panic flooding his eyes as he grabbed ahold of the wolf’s long fur. “It’s just a couple more wires. I know it hurts, trust me, I’ll get you out, okay?”

Of course, you know it hurts! It’s burning you, you freaking idiot!!!

Gentle hands reached out for him again and Twilight only snarled in response.

Don’t touch me! You’re hurting yourself! Stop! No! You’re not doing this! Not on my watch!

The traveled scowled, drawing back as glimmering golden eyes had locked onto those of the snarling work, the traveler’s voice just a bit too echoey for this part of the forest, his teeth just a bit too sharp in the dawning light, eyes a bit too bright and glinting as they glared the wolf down. “Wolfie, by- I swear if you don’t calm down, I will pin you in place! You have to stop moving or you’ll just make it worse on both of us!”

Of course, reasoning doesn’t work on over-protective heroes, so in minutes Twilight found himself pinned in place while the Traveler used his full weight to hold him down, sitting on top of him while he finished cutting the last wire before pulling it away from Twilight’s paws, letting the wolf limp away from it as he kicked it against its mother post with a hiss.

Wolfie whimpered.

“I’m sorry.” Hyrule sighed, delicately setting a hand between the canine’s ears, but Twilight saw the wince all the same, and he could only bark angrily as he shook it off, glaring up at Hyrule with all the frustration he could muster. The healer only frowned, hurt flashing across his face as he brought his blackened hand up and cradled it at his chest. “You’re welcome, I guess. What’s got you in a dither?”

“Your blasted hands.” The shadows had washed over him in instants and Hyrule stood staring up at the glaring hero as Twilight caught hold of the kid’s wrist, hands gentle and gaze softening to be even gentler as he stared down at the damage done. “Ordonia dang it, Hyrule, I tried to tell you to stop!”

“You’re okay!” Hyrule choked out, maybe in a sob and maybe in a laugh as the kid relaxed slightly. “You’re- oh gosh, we were-”

“Hyrule.” His form had no effect on his voice apparently, because it was more grown than words that met the others’ ears, and Hyrule flinched at the sound. “You can’t- I-” A million thoughts swam in his mind, worry, anger, concern, disapproval, thanks-

In the end, he just pulled the kid into his arms, mindful of both of their injuries as he sighed. “Yer a freakin’ idiot and I don’t want you ta ever do that again, ‘kay?”

Hyrule nodded into his chest.

“Good. Now let’s get back to camp an’ get something on those burns, and next time,” Blue clashed with golden green. “Go get help instead of burning yourself on iron, you stubborn fae, or I promise you- shut it, I know what promises mean to fae- that I’ll sit on you the whole time Legend yells at you for it, ya hear?”

Hyrule nodded shyly, shoulders hunching up as Twilight let himself relax, pulling his little brother to his side with a sigh and a ruffle of brown curls. “Good, now let’s git. We need to treat those burns.”

And have a talk with the old man about making things in camp, and in general, safer for a young half- blood fae.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #idiot writes whump #whumptober 2021 #lu hyrule #lu twilight #lu wolfie

76 notes · View notes

toherlover · 4 years ago

Text

more fun here

pairing: din djarin x reader (no use of y/n)

Summary: after spending the last 3 weeks on a bounty, din decides to give you the day off, but personal space was the last thing you wanted after spending so much time alone.

wordcount: 2.6k

warnings/tags: alcohol, drinking, language? maybe? i dont remember, lots of fluff, mutual pining, mostly from din’s pov

A/N: hi so i have never actually posted a fic before oop. i have them i just ~dont share~ so this is something new to try for now!

Mando jumped when the hatch fell open, shaken out of light sleep. His hand immediately fell to the blaster tucked into the holster but froze when he saw her trudging up the ramp. She was holding some sort of drink in one hand, her other arm held out to the side as if she was walking on a balance beam. The girl was muttering under her breath, obviously concentrating way too hard on not spilling whatever liquid was frothing in the glass.

When she got to the hull of the Razor Crest she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Hey Mando!” the girl yelled a little too loud, “I’m home!!”

The Mandalorian said nothing. She leaned against the frame and held the glass out to him, panting and starting to slide to the floor.

“I- I got one for-for you!”

He had given her the day to be off on her own, considering how safe the new system they’d landed in was known to be. Maker, she’d spent the last three weeks couped up in the crest by herself. Cabin fever had never really gotten to him, but when he came back this time, bounty flung over his shoulder, it was obvious that it had gotten to her.

He’d felt bad telling her to stay on the ship and only run to the shop when necessary, especially when she butted back in argument. The girl probably didn’t realize it was for her own good, a protective measure. She had rolled her eyes in annoyance, but when Mando didn’t falter in his stance through the fight she reluctantly agreed. He hadn’t meant to leave her alone this long, he truly thought it’d be just over a week, and there was a pang of guilt in his chest for leaving her here like this.

In his absence, the girl had thoroughly redecorated the ship. All sorts of… things, crafts, maker-knows-whats, were sitting atop crates, hung on the walls, clearly made using whatever she’d found rummaging through the spare parts bin and in the singular shop connected to the docking bay.

There was a string of little flickering lights hanging across the hull, pieced together from old console controls. It looked like she had sewed together some old fabrics to create some sort of rug, too.

The girl herself was asleep on the floor, surrounded by papers covered in writing and doodles. It was a mess- whatever she’d been writing was scattered and out of order. The kid was tucked under her arm, completely limp and snoring quietly. They looked like they’d passed out on the spot, mid-activity, on the Crest’s floor. She was wearing an odd combination of clothing he’d never seen before, had she made them herself? The child had a crown woven out of old wires sitting on his head, a matching one had clearly slipped out of her hair.

Mando silently thanked the stars not only for the fact that she was asleep when he got back, but that he had a layer of beskar to hide the smile he couldn’t keep from inching across his face. When he’d hired her a few months back to watch the kid and help copilot as needed, the girl had seemed so harsh. Her knuckles were scarred and she sneered when she called him out on his shit. Which she seemed to love to do.

In the cockpit, they’d sit in silence for hours, something the Mandalorian usually valued with others, but he wished she’d say something. Anything. Occasionally he’d feel her eyes trained on his helmet, or he’d glance back at her to see her clearly thinking deeply about something, but it was never a shared thought. It was quiet.

He’d never admit to it, but he was terrified that she was scared of him. Maker, she’d seen him come back out of breath and dragging a body behind him. She was always standing by when he was at his worst, catching her flinch out of the corner of his eye didn’t make it any better.

But there were moments. Moments he was sure she hadn’t noticed him watching. Moments when she was soft. There were little things. Like how she always gripped the armrest a little tighter and squeezed her eyes shut right before they landed, or how she places a gentle kiss on the kid’s head every night before tucking him in. He doubted she was aware, but she sticks her tongue out just a little bit and fiddles with her necklace when she’s concentrating. Sometimes she leaves little reminders around the ship for them both; they’re always signed with a smiley face at the end.

There were a few times he’d caught her humming to herself and dancing around on her toes. She was graceful- he wasn’t expecting that. For a fighter pilot with such a callous attitude, she was so delicate. So he stayed back, knowing she’d stop the moment she knew he was there.

Or how she left a third woven crown hanging from his seat in the cockpit. No, she didn’t wear a helmet, but it was pretty clear that she hid behind her own layer of beskar, too.

But they had never shared a moment like this: the girl slumped in the door frame, holding a drink out to him with a straw stuck in it. The child toddled over to her.

“Hey little dude!” she put the drink on the floor and held her arms out to him. “Look, sorry I’m back just a little smidgen of a bit late,” she said, words slurring, bopping him lightly on the nose. “I sorta kinda,” the girl’s voice didn’t get any quieter as she tried to whisper, “forgot where we were parked.” She shook her head and held a finger to her lips, “Don’t tell Mando.”

The Mandalorian let out a sigh loud enough to be heard through the vocoder and her head whipped around to face him. “I’m-” she started to get up, “I’m sorry I’m a little bit,” she held on to the wall as she stumbled forward, “a little bit late.” With a huff she gave up and sat back down on the floor, but continued to scootch herself closer to him, only stopping a foot or so before his feet.

Still, he was silent, and the color seemed to drain from her face. Under the cold stare of his visor, she tucked her head back like a child expecting to be scolded. After a few moments, she glanced nervously around the room, looking anywhere besides where she knew his eyes would be. She couldn’t tell the man in front of her was doing everything in his power to stifle a laugh as she struggled to sit up straight.

“Hey, so you’re actually a reeaallly quiet person,” she said softly, fidgeting a bit, “and I don’t know if you know or realize it or not, or if it’s on purpose, b- but when you go all quiet like this I really don’t know- I mean I’m terrible at reading the room anyways- but I can’t tell if you’re mad and I just-”

He cut her off. “I’m not mad.” Her face lit up slightly. Honestly, he wished he was angry. He should have been angry. His ship was a mess. But when she sat in front of him like this, he found it hard to be even the slightest bit irritated. He’d asked her to be back before nightfall, and for once she didn’t ask why or argue back.

“Oh.” She smiled softly then leaned all the way back so that her head skimmed the floor. She reached behind her, grabbing the blue drink and sliding it forward as she sat back up. “It was fun. Probably not your scene, I don’t really know, but the music was good, you would have liked that. You should have come.”

With a sigh, the Mandalorian rose to his feet and held a hand out to her, offering to help her up. She smiled again and let him pull her to her feet, immediately placing a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. His hand landed on her waist to keep her upright. “I don’t really do parties.”

She looked up at him. Somehow, even in her intoxicated state, she always managed to look him directly in the eye. “Yeah, I know. Sorta figured. To be really honest with you though, neither do I, I just wanted to do something a little bit different, yah know?”

“I know.”

They stood there in silence for a minute, then she rested her head against his chest. He froze. She’d never shown an ounce of affection, let alone stand together like this. He knew she was drunk. He guessed the girl wouldn’t remember this in the morning. But still, he held her tightly and savored the moment. It couldn’t have been comfortable, but she leaned against him anyway.

“But the credits I’d give to see you dance in this tin-man suit,” she knocked on his chest and giggled.

“I don’t really dance.”

“Liar. You can so dance. No way you’re that quiet and sneaky and can’t.” Her nose scrunched up as she scoffed at him, poking at his chest plate. “Me, however, whew, you really don’t know what you missed, shiny. You’re holding the worst dancer on this side of the galaxy.”

His head cocked to the side and he paused, watching her poke fun at herself, thinking of all the times he’d caught her tiptoeing around with the child. All the times she would sing quietly and swing her hips while out and about. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, “No I’ve seen you dance, you dance all the time.”

Her lips parted as a confused look fell across her face. He couldn’t fully read her expression, but it was clear a million thoughts were flooding her brain. He was instantly worried that he’d offended her. Not only had he invaded her privacy- he admitted it to her face. He worried she’d step away and the moment would end, that she’d go to bed and leave in the morning, taking her pay and her bag. But with one eyebrow raised and a soft smile playing across her face, she wrapped both arms around his neck.

“So I guess you owe me one then, huh? I brought you back a drink and everything.”

-----

You picked up on his almost inaudible laugh even through the modulator. Sure, you’d had a few drinks. You had been a little past the point of tipsy as you neared the Crest, but you were coming to your senses now. Were you over-exaggerating your state of mind? Most indefinitely. You couldn’t help it, though. The last 3 weeks had been an absolute shit-show.

You were fine until the end of the first week, then you started to get worried. The thought of him kept you up at night, so you told yourself that there was no way you could have possibly missed him. You only cared because this was your wellbeing now. I mean, before you got this position you spent every minute alone, too. This wasn’t any different.

Except that it was. And you hated that it was. This was just supposed to be another job. Somehow this man in a metal suit had weaseled his way into a soft spot in your heart.

He’d been so patient. Sure, you knew how to fly a ship, and you’re not clueless when it comes to mechanics, but this ship was unlike anything you’d seen before. So he taught you.

When he came back bloodied and bruised, he’d explain exactly what he needed you to do. In one instance he had gently guided your hand, slowly realizing he didn’t have to patch himself up anymore. Maybe he liked having you there. It was impossible to tell; maker, the few times you’d tried small talk it seemed to push him away even further.

But you didn’t want him further away.

You wanted him right here.

Figured that one out week two.

Week three the kid decided you didn’t need sleep. He cried and whined until you hung up that makeshift strand of lights. Then he sat and stared up at them like they were the most beautiful thing in the galaxy. So you made more things to pass the time. And more. And more.

You don’t even remember finally falling asleep, so waking up in the cot was a surprise. You slipped out of bed to figure out what was going on but stopped dead in your tracks when you heard him laugh.

The hatch to the cockpit was open, and from the low angle, you could just barely see the child sitting on the Mandalorian’s lap.

“It looks cute on you, kid.” The baby giggled and reached out for his arms. The wire crown was sitting on his head again. “How does mine look?”

The crown you barely remembered making for him during the third-week fever dream was clearly resting on his head, atop the helmet and all. The baby cooed.

When you landed he practically announced that the day was yours and you were free to go off and enjoy yourself. You thought about asking him to tag along but worried it’d be overstepping. Maker, the man had to have been just as, or even more, exhausted as you. Your pity didn’t run too deep, though. You knew it was selfish, but you hoped that maybe he’d want to be with you.

You tried your hardest to not seem disappointed when you turned to see him still in the hull as you strode down the gangway. You walked to clear your mind before popping into a cantina, which ended up being the center of life, and finding peace with the bottle.

The buzz had almost completely worn off by now, and you were back. And he was back. And he was holding you like he couldn’t risk letting you go.

-----

He looked down at her and let out a sigh. “Next time, sweet girl. We need to get you to bed before you’re out on the floor.”

Her face flushed pink at the sound of his words. Stars, at least he hoped that was why. He could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes asking, ‘sweet girl? When did you get so soft on me?’

She pushed up on her toes, flattening her body completely against his. Her arms were still around his neck, and he carefully brought his hands together behind her waist. Had he not been wearing the kriffing helmet he would have been able to feel her breath against his neck as she nestled herself impossibly closer.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she whispered.

He gave a curt nod, his body stiff and tense under her.

“I wanted to leave the second after it started,” Her voice dropped even lower and her eyes fluttered shut, “... figured it’d be more fun here with you.”

His heart stilled as he realized her invisible beskar helmet had been lifted. He hoped it fell from her shoulders and rolled down the ramp, was lost in the night, maybe even stolen by scavengers, never to be seen between the two of them again.

She could feel his grip on her back tighten as his head relaxed onto her shoulder.

“Tomorrow night we’ll stay in,” his voice was just loud enough to pass through the modulator.

A smile crept across her face, “I’ll hold you to it, Mando.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

“I know.”

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blackcatrph · 4 years ago

Text

** evermore sentence starters.

willow.

“ i'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night. ”

“ you cut through like a knife. ”

“ i never would have known from the look on your face. ”

“ the more that you say, the less I know. ”

“ i'm begging for you to take my hand. ”

“ life was a willow and it bent right to your wind. ”

“ i could feel you sneakin' in. ”

“ you are a mythical thing. ”

“ i come back stronger than a '90s trend. ”

“ wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark. ”

“ show me the places where the others gave you scars. ”

“ anywhere else is hollow. ”

champagne problems.

“ you booked the night train for a reason. ”

“ bustling crowds or silent sleepers, not sure which is worse. ”

“ i dropped your hand while dancing. ”

“ your mom's ring is in your pocket, my picture is in your wallet. ”

“ your heart was glass and I dropped it. ”

“ you told your family for a reason. ”

“ you couldn't keep it in. ”

“ no one's celebrating. ”

“ your hometown skeptics called it champagne problems. ”

“ love slipped beyond your reaches. ”

" this dorm was once a madhouse. "

“ don't think we'll say that word again. ”

“ sometimes you just don't know the answer. ”

" she would've made such a lovely bride. ”

“ what a shame she's fucked in the head. ”

“ she'll patch up your tapestry that I shred. ”

gold rush.

“ eyes like sinking ships on waters, so inviting I almost jump in. ”

“ i don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch. ”

“ everybody wants you. ”

“ everybody wonders what it would be like to love you. ”

“ i don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bones crush. ”

“ what must it be like to grow up that beautiful ? ”

“ i see me padding across your wooden floors. ”

“ it fades into the gray of my day-old tea. ”

“ it could never be. ”

“ my mind turns your life into folklore. ”

“ i can't dare to dream about you anymore. ”

“ the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure. ”

'tis the damn season.

“ If I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you. ”

“ it's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass. but I felt it when I passed you. ”

“ there's an ache in you. ”

“ but if it's all the same to you, it's the same to me. ”

“ you could call me "babe" for the weekend. ”

“ the road not taken looks real good now. ”

“ the holidays linger like bad perfume. ”

“ you can run, but only so far. ”

“ i escaped it too. ”

“ remember how you watched me leave ? ”

“ now I'm missing your smile. ”

“ hear me out, we could just ride around. ”

“ i won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay. ”

“ i wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm faking. ”

“ the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own. ”

“ we could call it even, even though I'm leavin'. ”

tolerate it.

“ i notice everything you do or don't do. ”

“ you're so much older and wiser. ”

“ if it's all in my head tell me now. ”

“ tell me I've got it wrong somehow. ”

“ i know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it. ”

“ i greet you with a battle hero's welcome. ”

“ i take your indiscretions all in good fun. ”

“ while you were out building other worlds, where was I? ”

“ where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire? ”

“ i made you my temple, my mural, my sky. ”

“ i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. ”

“ always taking up too much space or time. ”

“ you assume I'm fine. ”

“ what would you do if I break free and leave us in ruins. ”

“ took this dagger in me and removed it. ”

no body, no crime.

“ he did it. ”

" it smells like infidelity. ”

“ that ain't my merlot on his mouth. ”

“ i think I'm gonna call him out. ”

" i think he did it, but I just can't prove it. "

“ no body, no crime. ”

“ i ain't lettin' up until the day I die. ”

“ his mistress moved in. ”

“ there ain't no doubt. ”

“ somebody's gotta catch him out. ”

“ i've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene. ”

“ they think she did it, but they just can't prove it. ”

“ i wasn't lettin' up until the day he died. ”

happiness.

“ i see this for what it is. ”

“ all the years I've given Is just shit we're dividin' up. ”

“ i can't face reinvention. ”

“ i haven't met the new me yet. ”

“ there'll be happiness after you. ”

“ there was happiness because of you. ”

“ there is happiness past the blood and bruises. ”

“ haunted by the look in my eyes. ”

“ leave it all behind. ”

“ tell me, when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk? ”

“ when did all our lessons start to look like weapons? ”

“ i hope she'll be your beautiful fool. ”

“ no, I didn't mean that. ”

“ i can't see facts through all of my fury. ”

“ there'll be happiness after me. ”

“ in our history, across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise dappled with the flickers of light. ”

“ i can't make it go away by making you a villain. ”

“ no one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you. ”

“ now my eyes leak acid rain on the pillow where you used to lay your head. ”

“ after giving you the best I had, tell me what to give after that? ”

dorothea.

“ do you ever stop and think about me?”

“ you got shiny friends since you left town. ”

“ i got nothing but well-wishes for you. ”

“ this place is the same as it ever was. ”

“ it's never too late to come back to my side. ”

“ the stars in your eyes shined brighter in Tupelo. ”

“ and if you're ever tired of bеing known for who you know, you'll always know me. ”

“ you'rе a queen sellin' dreams. ”

“ they all want to be you. ”

“ are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? ”

“ i guess I'll never know. ”

coney island.

“ break my soul in two looking for you. ”

“ if I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to? ”

“ did I close my fist around something delicate? ”

“ did I shatter you? ”

“ sorry for not making you my centerfold. ”

“ lost again with no surprises. ”

“ it gets colder and colder when the sun goes down. ”

“ what's a lifetime of achievement If I pushed you to the edge? ”

“ you were too polite to leave me. ”

“ will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care? ”

“ sorry for not winning you an arcade ring. ”

“ were you waiting at our old spot? ”

“ did I leave you hanging every single day? ”

“ did I paint your bluest skies the darkest grey? ”

“ the sight that flashed before me was your face. ”

ivy.

“ i'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones. ”

“ your touch brought forth an incandescent glow. tarnished, but so grand. ”

“ i just sit here and wait, grieving for the living. ”

“ my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand. ”

“ i can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland. ”

“ my house of stone, your ivy grows. and now I'm covered in you. ”

“ i wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed. ”

“ your opal eyes are all I wish to see. ”

“ clover blooms in the fields. ”

“ what would he do if he found us out? ”

“ he's gonna burn this house to the ground. ”

“ i'd live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time. ”

“ so tell me to run, or dare me to sit and watch what we'll become. ”

“ it's a goddamn blaze in the dark. ”

“ it's the goddamn fight of my life. ”

cowboy like me.

" dancin' is a dangerous game. "

“ now I know I'm never gonna love again. ”

“ i've got some tricks up my sleeve. ”

“ takes one to know one. ”

“ you're a cowboy like me. ”

“ i never wanted love, just a fancy car. ”

“ i could be the way forward. ”

“ the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up. ”

“ the old men that I've swindled really did believe I was the one. ”

“ now you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon. ”

“ forever is the sweetest con. ”

long story short.

“ i tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me. ”

“ the knife cuts both ways. ”

“ if the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break. ”

“ i fell from the pedestal, right down the rabbit hole. ”

“ long story short, it was a bad time. ”

“ i always felt I must look better in the rear view. ”

“ missing me at the golden gates they once held the keys to. ”

“ but if someone comes at us this time, I'm ready. ”

“ i wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things. ”

“ your nemeses will defeat themselves before you get the chance to swing. ”

“ rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. ”

“ long story short, I survived. ”

marjorie.

“ never be so kind that you forget to be clever. ”

“ never be so clever that you forget to be kind. ”

“ what died didn't stay dead. ”

“ you're alive, so alive. ”

“ never be so politе that you forget your power. ”

“ nevеr wield such power that you forget to be polite. ”

“ if I didn't know better I'd think you were listening to me now. ”

“ you loved the amber skies so much. ”

“ and if I didn't know better I'd think you were singing to me now. ”

closure.

“ it's been a long time. ”

“ seeing the shape of your name still spells out pain. ”

“ it wasn't right, the way it all went down. ”

“ i got your letter. ”

“ i know that it's over, I don't need your closure. ”

“ don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled. ”

“ i'm fine with my spite, my tears, my beers and my candles. ”

“ i know I'm just a wrinkle in your new life. ”

“ it's fake and it's oh so unnecessary. ”

evermore.

“ i replay my footsteps on each stepping stone trying to find the one where I went wrong. ”

“ i was catching my breath. ”

“ i had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for evermore. ”

“ I can't remember what I used to fight for. ”

“ you cannot think of all the cost and the things that will be lost. ”

“ can we just get a pause? ”

“ is there a line that I could just go cross? ”

“ when I was shipwrecked I thought of you. ”

“ in the cracks of light I dreamed of you. ”

“ it was real enough to get me through. ”

“ i swear you were there. ”

#sentence meme #sentence memes #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp meme #ask meme #roleplay meme #lyrical meme #lyric meme #memes by j

452 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 years ago

Text

pause, m | myg | 1

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story has a physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; emotional manipulation; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic???reader

rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.

–

She slapped him across the face.

You froze.

A cassette was thrown into the floor, the plastic smashing onto the concrete, sending the thin black ribbon everywhere.

The train screeched loudly and began to pull away from subway station, the cars moving slowly at first, then faster and faster, creating a large gust of wind, a whoosh paired with the thundering sound of the train leaving. But it still wasn't loud enough to mask the words being shouted at the young man.

"I hate you, Min Yoongi!"

Pause.

Rewind.

Min Yoongi got into the train, pushing past the people. Everyone ignored him, busy on their phones or looking at newspapers. The subway was always packed at night, everyone hurrying to catch the last train. Sometimes he got lucky and found an end seat, but most of the time Yoongi leaned next to a wall and held onto one of the metal poles with his black leather gloves.

He puffed hot air into his face mask, warming his cheeks. Cold from the outside, but that would change from all this body heat. He unzipped his black parka a little, revealing the slight V-neck of his beige sweater. Pulled out his phone from his black jeans, scrolling through.

The beat began to play, a demon in his ear, cooing at him.

Demanding him to pay more attention to it.

Yoongi puffed his cheeks once more, but this time from aggravation. He had been working on this for hours at the studio and it still didn’t sound right. He was hoping he wouldn't have to re-record the vocals, but the more he listened to it, the more he hated it. He had attempted to change the pitch, add more synth beats, tune his own voice, but it was all trash. Ugh. Maybe the original demo was better. All this extra stuff was clouding the song and his mind.

He shoved his phone in his pocket and continued to listen. Over and over. Yoongi had Bluetooth earbuds now, something he thought he would never have because wired headphones were always better. Every audiophile will tell you that. But technology had changed. SAMSUNG knew their shit. He probably shouldn't have spent the money, but the convenience was too appealing.

Yoongi scowled under the mask as he heard his own voice.

With every stop, people filtered out. Eventually, Yoongi found a seat. Eventually, he saw you.

Every day.

He never paid much attention to people, but it was hard to ignore you, always on the far side of the same train car as him, looking half-asleep, earbuds in your ear, occasionally bouncing your head to something you were listening to. What were you listening to? Yoongi didn't know. He never asked you. It was too weird. You both got off the same stop, always only you two.

The last one.

That was why it was weird, because it would always end up being only you two in the train car. You wore black jeans usually, just like him. Black combat boots, different styles but far too similar for you to be owning that many pairs. Black backpack, sometimes a black cap. Today, a loose colorful shirt with an acid-wash denim jacket and fingerless gloves.

Sometimes you would tap your heel on the ground silently. Yoongi was trained enough to recognize that you must be listening to music, maybe following the drums in a song. He wondered what kind of music. The beat was slower, so perhaps not EDM or metal. But then again, Yoongi knew lots of bands that didn't really fit in any genre of music, so he couldn't assume. For all he knew, you could be listening to an obscure polka or ska band.

He still didn’t really know what those genres were to this day, to be honest.

In any case, Yoongi was the kind of guy who noticed patterns and you had a lot of them. Same style of shoes, same backpack, same bouncing of your head or heel. Always on the same train car as him, always getting off on the same stop. You must arrive at least one stop before him. Did you have the same thought process as him? Not quite picking the closest entrance, but going three cars down where there were less people? Or was it just a coincidence and you entered the first train car you saw and it so happened to be the same one Yoongi always picked?

He didn’t know.

Yoongi watched you tick your hand and stretch out your right thumb. It was an action you did often. Maybe you used your hands a lot at your job? Typing and the like? He didn’t know. He watched you stretch out your fingers. They looked like a pianist’s hands, but your nails were too long, and they were painted most of the time, usually a glittery color. Today, purple.

The train screeched to a stop and the voice came over the intercom. At this point, Yoongi no longer listened to the announcement because he knew it was the last stop by the way you hauled yourself out of your seat, shouldering your backpack and strolling to the door as the train stopped. Always pausing because Yoongi was closer, so he always got out first.

Never really acknowledging him directly.

The train doors slid open. Yoongi stepped out onto the sidewalk, the harsh streetlights blaring over the concrete. Took a couple steps out, looking around.

“You’re fucking late, again.”

Yoongi froze.

His girlfriend.

“I… can’t control the train,” Yoongi mumbled as she stalked up to him, wearing a pink dress and heavy black coat, frowning angrily.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so poor so you can afford a car then.”

She shoved him, hard. Yoongi let it happen, biting his lip under his face mask as he stumbled, not looking at her. The train intercom went off again, indicating the train was leaving.

Thundering footsteps, breaking out into a run. Yoongi jerked his head to the sound, seeing you sprint off, flying down the stairs, taking them two at a time, speedy and light. Every time. Always so fast, like an Olympic runner.

His girlfriend smacked him upside the head.

“Looking at other girls again, you piece of shit?”

She spat on the ground, making Yoongi flinch.

“Trashy looking bitch anyway.”

Pause.

Rewind.

Yoongi never thought this would happen to him.

The first time it happened, he was shocked. His own girlfriend hitting him. Yelling at him, accusing him of cheating even though he hadn’t. He found himself apologizing over and over, even if he knew nothing happened between him and his friend. It was such a long and winded argument that even he himself started questioning if he had done something involuntarily.

Tears, crying, sobbing, and then Yoongi was the one comforting her, even though she had suddenly slapped him out of the blue in the middle of their argument.

She told him never to see that friend again.

Okay.

Then to never see his other male friends either, because he had admitted he didn’t care much about gender, so everyone was a danger to their relationship, and if Yoongi really loved her, he wouldn’t put their relationship in danger.

He just kept saying, yes, of course, because if he said anything else, she would raise her voice and yell once more, extending the explosive argument for hours. Then after, she was hover around him with snide comments and verbal digs, making it unbearable until he was on his knees, begging her to stop and telling her he would be faithful over and over again, but being unable to prove it, because how can you prove something like that without time?

Yoongi really thought he would never be in this position.

Because even in the position, he couldn’t see it for what it was. He was a deadbeat, unable to pay rent or buy a car. He was an underground music producer, but it’s hard to make money when you can’t talk to anybody, and he was working on his own music, but he couldn’t force it out, because that’s not how music works. That’s not how art works.

So maybe he really was trash.

At least Yoongi had one person who loved him, right?

His family mildly disowned him because he decided to pursue music instead of going to university. They said they would talk to him when he was serious about his life, but he was, he was serious about music, he knew his raps were good, he just needed that big break.

So, when a girl threw herself at him and started giving him praises and affection, Yoongi turned into a bumbling shy mess. Isn’t that the fucking dream, to have your significant other support your artistic creations? It all moved very fast.

She told him she loved him so, so much.

Told him he was the coolest, best boyfriend in the world.

Told him that he deserved the best, most perfect girlfriend in the world, and that was only her.

Only her.

Yoongi was on cloud nine, until he was abruptly dropped at seven million miles per hour straight into the dirt. And now he was crawling around on the ground, poisoned by the snakes that were her words, her disapproving glances the thorns gouging him, grasping for tiny tidbits of affection and praise.

In public, she acted like the cute, caring girlfriend, clinging onto his arm, smiling happily.

At their apartment, the one she paid the rent for, she treated him like disobedient child, chastising everything he did until he didn’t even know what he was supposed to be doing and had to be ordered around, repeatedly called a stupid dog.

He really thought this would never, never happen to him.

This was the worst song in the whole world.

The kind of song that sounds happy, but when you read the lyrics, they’re despairingly sad.

The only time Yoongi had any relief was when he spent hours and hours at the studio. He had this thing where he would pretend everything at the studio was real life and everything happening at home was a dream. If it was a dream, it wasn’t real, so he didn’t need to think about it. It didn’t exist. Only his studio life was real. His studio life, the subway ride.

Your presence, bouncing to music he couldn’t hear, distracting him from him entering the dream world where his nightmare lived. Then his girlfriend would scowl at him and he was dragged back to reality, barely talking, only saying yes, waiting for the night to be over so the day could return and he could return to the studio, his real life.

Cycle repeat.

If he had friends, they would have told him to leave. They could have given him the strength to leave this nightmare. But he didn’t have friends, because his girlfriend had banished them away from him long before.

Yoongi began to hate the fact he pursued music.

If he hadn’t, he would have his family. His friends. And he wouldn’t have gotten into this relationship so hastily without thinking. He would have seen the red flags.

Or would he?

The worst part was that Yoongi didn’t know. Was he really this stupid? Was he really just a dumb piece of shit that needed to be told what to do because he wasn’t a man and couldn’t function as a human being without his girlfriend?

The Yoongi of the past would have told him he was being tricked and that he needed to get out. But the Yoongi of the present was already trapped, infected by these thoughts, mixing them with reality until he couldn’t distinguish the lies from the truth.

And the Yoongi of the future?

Well, would there even be a Yoongi of the future, the way this was going?

Or was the Yoongi of the future just a lie?

Pause.

Rewind.

Wait, too far back.

Fast forward.

You bounced your head to the beat, stepping into the train car. Found a seat, plopped down in it. Guitar, drums, bass. Nice, simple, soft rock. You really liked bands that were low frills and, most of the time, they were low budget too. It made being a fan of them more difficult, but there was a lot of fun in discovering new bands by digging around.

You stretched out your thumb, sighing. All this typing was straining your hands, but you didn’t want to quit you job. It paid well, you got to dress pretty casually, and you didn’t have to talk to anyone. All you had to do was input paper data into electronic medical records.

Was it boring?

Yeah.

Was it worth?

Also, yes.

Because you could spend every day listening to music, watching YouTube, and typing away without anyone breathing down your neck or criticizing that you weren’t dressed professionally enough. You couldn’t really complain. The company you worked at was close to the subway station too, so you didn’t have to buy a car, pay car payments, all that shit. You could even decide your hours, which was a little dangerous, because you weren’t a morning person, and that meant you woke up late and went to work late. And left work late, always ending up on the last train.

Welp.

Oh well.

It didn’t really matter. This was your life. You could enjoy it however you liked. If this was it for now, then this was it for now. Better to dance along to the beat of the present instead of trying to replay the past or fast forward to the future.

If you didn’t enjoy the present, then were you actually enjoying life?

Also, you should stretch more in general. That was your own fucking fault. You tapped your heel to the drums of the current song in your earbuds, flexing your hands to loosen them up. If you weren’t in public, you would be busy having a dance party right now. You would probably have a personal dance party once you got to your apartment. That’s why you bought Bluetooth speakers, after all. Better get your money’s worth by prancing around.

Sometimes you had bad days, but every bad day could be fixed with a dance party of one.

It had become a habit now, your way of relieving stress and throwing away your negative emotions. Filling your nights with your own ridiculous dancing in front of the mirror and making yourself laugh made life less lonely, more fun, and took the seriousness out of it. It made life less boring too, because you were always looking for new music for your own personal dance party.

It might be stupid but, hey, no one was going to know, so who gave a shit?

You didn’t need to listen to the intercom. You always got off the last stop and you knew it was nearing once everyone started disappearing. You could be in your own little world, dancing in your head, all the way until there was only one person left in the train car. One guy.

Usually wearing a black parka, a face mask, and dark jeans. You noticed he always tucked his large black sneakers back and kept his head down, not directly looking at anyone. It was like he was trying to shrink his presence into nothing.

You found it weird, because he was very clearly there, and he was pretending he didn’t exist.

You had never spoken to him, mostly because there wasn’t really anything to talk about and because no one really wants to be spoken to by a stranger so late at night. Also, it seemed like he didn’t want to be spoken to, which was a completely normal thing to want.

You tapped your heel on the floor.

Morning. Night. Morning. Night.

Cycle repeating every day, and you living it. Everyone had to. Was there any meaning in searching for meaning? Or was the meaning to simply live it just the way you liked it? Well then, might as well make it a party. If you made running through life fun, then maybe the actual running wouldn’t feel so hard.

You felt the train slow and you stood up, taking a few steps to the entrance. The other guy was closer, so you waited for him to stand next to the door, letting him go first. It was easier than trying to force your way past him. This entrance was the closest to the stairs.

The train stopped.

You couldn’t hear the intercom, but you knew what it said. The doors opened.

The guy walked out first.

From this angle, you could see the bright white lights of the lampposts reflecting off the sidewalk and the circular lights embedded at the edge, notifying passengers of the crack between the train and the station. You stepped off, boots touching the concrete, suddenly creating shadows. Looked up to a familiar scene.

A girl greeting the guy that had stepped off the train. She wore a pink dress and a black coat.

Must be his girlfriend.

At least he had someone to go home to. You didn’t. Just a dance party of one to attend. You walked a few steps and then picked up speed, breaking into a full-blown run, not looking back, grinning like an idiot, knowing the exact songs that were going on your playlist tonight, knowing it was all a mess of music, but who cared? It was all for you and you didn’t have to share it.

You didn’t look back.

Why didn’t you look back?

Pause.

Rewind.

“Why don’t you have some fun?”

“What?”

You boyfriend, well, now ex-boyfriend, sighed in exasperation at you. “Your job is boring. You’re not exciting to be around. You don’t care about anything.”

Those were his last words to you as he walked away from your life.

You watched him go, blinking at his back. Huh. He wasn’t wrong. Your job was boring. You didn’t really have much to care about. You didn’t have a very entertaining personality either. You sighed, walking in the opposite direction, hands behind your head, frowning slightly. Maybe you were too aloof? You scratched the back of your head, stopping as you neared a music store. Maybe you needed a hobby. Fun people had hobbies.

You opened the door and walked inside, looking around. The music in the intercom was nice, a soft rock tune playing. You walked over to the rock section. Why not? Just pick the first thing that interested you and roll with it.

You failed to notice the young man with cat-like eyes in the rap section, wrapped in a black parka, frowning as he looked through the albums.

You bounced to the tune on the intercom and went up to the albums, flicking though the CDs. Tapped your heel to the beat as you picked up one and read the track list in the back. You tilted your head and put it down, picking up another. And another.

And another.

And spent two hours before you picked one up, held it, and went to the counter.

Paid for it and went home. Put it on your CD player and stood in front of your mirror, bouncing your head to the tunes. Bouncing turned to tapping your foot, turned to making weird faces at the mirror, then flapping your arms, then wiggling around, and laughing like a lunatic because you looked so fucking stupid, but somehow, it felt great dancing like a dumbass idiot to some weird indie rock. These lyrics made no sense, the beat was wonky and experimental, but it was great somehow.

So, you did it again.

And again.

Switching to Spotify, looking up the weirdest, cookiest music you could find, and dancing to it like a fool, using your clothes like props, doing peculiar hand gestures that might have been gang signs in a different country, but hey, who the fuck cared? You were alone, you were weird alone, and it was hilarious.

Why not?

It was fun. You liked it. You kept doing it.

Every night, a night full of dancing alone. Pausing whenever you wanted, repeating a song whenever you wanted, skipping a song whenever you wanted, rewinding to your favorite parts, and replaying it all over again, enjoying the fun over and over.

Pause.

Laugh.

Rewind.

Laugh.

Fast forward.

The guy was getting weirder every day.

It was like he was trying to cave into himself. You tried not to stare, because that was very rude, but every night, every train ride was like this. It was like he was crumpling slowly like a piece of paper being crushed and smashed by a child’s hands.

It was unsettling you.

And every night, right before you took a step to start running, you waited a single second.

And you began to see.

The way he cowered as he neared his girlfriend.

The way she scowled at him like he was gum on her shoe.

And every night, you would run, forgetting about it all, turning on your Bluetooth speakers and dancing the night away. With your weird gestures, with your awkward bobbing of your head, with your odd expressions at the mirror. And you would laugh and fall asleep with a laugh. Wake up. Dawdle around, then head to work. Type away. Get on the train.

Step out.

Wait one more second.

See him bow his head and see her berating him even though you couldn’t hear the words over your music.

Run again, run all the way back home. You didn’t know him. But it bothered you, even if only for a second. Even if only in that extra second you waited before running. Because he was crumpling, crumpling, withering in front of your eyes, getting crushed every day. You didn’t know. Maybe he really deserved it. But you couldn’t help but think that no one deserves that every day.

Every night.

In fact, you knew that no one deserves it every night.

You didn’t want to butt into people’s business. It wasn’t your place. But it disturbed you, seeing it every single night. Sometimes you even saw her shove him or hit him. And you would run home and dance the night away, but sometimes, right before you fell asleep, you would think.

Are you okay, random guy?

You never heard the words she said to him, always covered by the guitar, drums, bass in your ears.

Morning. Night. Morning. Night.

Staring at your ceiling right before you closed your eyes. Thinking about the way the random night train guy shrank in the presence of that woman.

Something wasn’t right.

Pause.

Fast forward.

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #bts series #bts fanfic #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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