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helnjk · 4 years ago

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In a Crowd of Thousands - Part 2 // F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: You never really forget your childhood love. For Princess Y/N of Diagon, hers came in the form of a boy whose dream it was to start a business and support his family. As it goes, life–and her duty to her kingdom–had gotten in the way. She longed to see him again, to see the success she was sure he had achieved. Luckily, fate was on her side.

Warnings: food mention, alcohol mention (champagne, blink and you’ll miss it), gambling mention (it’s a small bet, blink and you’ll miss it again)

A/N: okay but im lowkey proud of this part. this is the last official ‘chapter’ of this mini series, and i’m really excited to share it with y’all hihi xx

(also also, there’s a bonus part at the end that you don’t have to read but i love it lol)

flashbacks are in italics

Prologue | Part 1

The grand ballroom of the palace was packed with people.

Princess Y/N of Diagon sighed internally as her eyes swept over its expanse. At 21 years old, she was mere months away from her coronation. And, as tradition dictated, a ball was being held in her honor and she avoided it until the last minute that she could.

To be quite honest, she thought that the idea of a ‘presentation’ was completely outdated and there was absolutely no need for it. She was more than familiar with her people and she didn’t need this night of frivolity and grandiosity to prove it.

When Minerva first brought up the idea of having to fake a smile and discuss politics in a stuffy room with a bunch of aristocrats, Y/N immediately rolled her eyes. She knew that it was tradition for her to be ‘presented�� to her kingdom, but she also knew that those invited to the ball would not be able to speak for the majority of her subjects. They would be nobles, far too uptight and far too removed from the masses to know what they would truly need.

They were exactly the kind of people the princess tried very hard to avoid when she went on her rounds throughout the towns and met with people of all walks of life.

The Princess was very dedicated to living out her goal of being a fair and just leader. From the moment she turned 16, she made it a point to immerse herself in the lives of those who relied on her for, well, everything. Though, much of the fire under her had to do with the initials etched into the trunk of a tree that stood tall and proud by the banks of the river.

Her reaction to the news of the ball, however, wasn’t appreciated by her governess. Not that she needed a governess anymore, but Y/N would always be grateful for the strong and steady presence that Minerva had been her whole life.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” she defended, crossing her arms over her chest, “Even you know how useless these kinds of things are.”

Minerva merely shook her head and tried to look stern, “Yes, well, it is tradition, at least try and enjoy yourself. You are not expected to speak with investors and nobles all night, and there will be many opportunities to eat and to dance!”

“As long as my corset isn’t too tight, I think I can manage an evening with the snooty elite.”

“My dear I hope you know that you are a part of the snooty elite.”

True to her word, Y/N managed to get through several conversations without any sarcastic remarks or backhanded compliments. In fact, she found herself enjoying the party much more than she had anticipated. The music was lovely, the food phenomenal, and she daresay her dress was absolutely stunning.

She was fetching herself a drink when a familiar voice spoke next to her, “Well don’t you clean up nicely, sweetheart.”

“Lord Black!” the princess exclaimed, turning to him and letting out one of the few genuine smiles of the night. “I wasn’t aware you were going to be attending the ball! If I did, I would’ve stuck by your side the moment I entered.”

The older man’s eyes crinkled at the compliment and he leant in for a warm hug.

Sirius Black was one of the only aristocrats that the Princess actually held a fondness for. The moment the pair met at one of the first few meetings the King and Queen had allowed her to attend, Y/N knew that he was of the right sort.

He came from very very old money, but once his parents had passed and he was given access to the Black fortune and title, he began to make very good changes wherever he could. He was a silent investor in many business ventures, and more often than not, the businesses he chose to support would end up flourishing.

“Anything new and exciting to tell me about?” Y/N asked, taking a sip of her sickly sweet champagne.

Sirius’ eyes lit up at the question, “I met a very promising pair of brothers–twins, actually. Their minds are as sharp as a knife, and they’ve got the most absurd ideas! Brilliant, but absurd. I think they can make it work.”

“I’m excited to hear more about them, then.”

The pair spent a good amount of time chatting away, seeking refuge at one of the emptier tables and settling. This was a great compromise for the Princess, who was hitting two birds with one stone as she spoke to someone she enjoyed the company of as well as someone who was a part of the ‘snooty elite’.

He spoke about his godson and how he was learning to walk and absolutely terrorizing his parents. In return, she told him about how the coronation planning was driving her up the wall. It felt good to be this open and genuine with someone, especially at a function like the one they were attending.

Sirius was in the middle of an exciting anecdote about Harry’s adventures with his mother’s makeup when Y/N caught a glimpse of fiery red hair.

Her heart stopped and leaped simultaneously in her chest.

As if they were being pulled by a magnet, her eyes focused solely on the familiar silhouette weaving in and out of the crowd. Her tunnel vision allowed her to see him and only him, and her mind began to go on overdrive.

“Princess?”

She barely registered the older man calling out to her, too distracted by the thought of seeing him again. Of being in the same place as him again. Of finally speaking the words she held in her heart for years to him.

“Excuse me for a moment,” was all she managed to get out.

Y/N could hear her blood rushing to her ears as she pushed through the, frankly too many, people in the way of her and her best friend. She didn’t care if she wasn’t behaving in a way that a Queen-to-be should be behaving, she didn’t care about any niceties at the moment. The last few years for her were spent almost completely alone, without her favorite redhead by her side, and she would be damned if she was going to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.

If she was being honest, time hadn’t done much to settle the grief she felt over the Weasleys moving away. Every little thing had reminded her of Fred and she was ashamed to admit that she wasn’t as open to new relationships–or friendships–because of the lingering feelings she harbored for the twin.

But now, now she had the chance to finally speak to him after so long. To feel the familiar comfort of his presence, to be herself and not have to worry about being the perfect royal that she was expected to be.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Y/N could see Fred, he was right there, only a few steps away with his back turned to her. He was laughing at something the person he was speaking to had said, his whole body shaking with unabashed glee. Someone in front of him called out her name as they saw her approach and she watched as he froze for a fraction of a second before turning on his heel.

Their eyes met and she paused mid-step.

The world was coated in molasses now, everything around her moving haltingly slow as they saw each other for the first time in years. All other things in the room melted away as he stepped forward, and suddenly he was standing right in front of her.

“Hi,” she breathed.

“Hi,” he replied, charmile smile and all, “I told you we’d find each other again, didn’t I?”

Y/N let out a small laugh, still in shock that Fred was really in front of her. His arms wrapped around her torso in a tentative hug, and she spared no time clinging on to him with a ferocity that surprised even her. It was almost as if she was trying to convince herself he was really and truly there. Luckily for the princess, he had no qualms with how tightly she was gripping onto him.

When she finally eased her hold, he held out his arm. “Care for a dance, Princess?”

“I’d love to.”

All eyes were on them as they walked onto the dance floor, clearly not just another pair among the others. Still, Y/N only had eyes for the man in front of her. Her eyes scanned over his features, taking note of the things that changed and the things that didn’t.

Fred was still her Fred, just older now, more confident. He had an air around him that wasn’t there the last time she saw him. It was a pleasant surprise, though, seeing him so sure of himself as he spun her around.

Music flowed around them as Y/N was dipped and twirled. She had never felt more like royalty than she had in that moment, dancing with Fred Weasley, her hand in his. Everything around them seemed to melt away as they moved through the dance floor, eyes locked and bodies pressed together.

Even when the music paused and they left the dancefloor, their hands remained intertwined.

Slowly, those in attendance began to make their leave. Some passed by the Princess to say their goodbyes and politely thank her for the night, but most knew better than to interrupt her time with someone who was clearly quite important to her.

Y/N had never been more thankful for the night to be ending.

“Didn’t know you were so popular, Y/N” Fred teased after another nobleman bid her goodnight.

“I am a Princess after all,” she replied, watching the man leave.

“And a damn good one, I’ve heard.”

She turned to look at him, “Been asking around about me, have you?”

The look he gave her nearly made her swoon. It was full of affection and admiration, taking the princess off guard.

Instead of answering, he merely cocked his head in the direction of the exit, saying “Fancy a walk through the grounds? I hear it’s been decorated quite beautifully for the night.”

After spending so much time packed in a crowded room, it was a welcome relief to be in the cool evening air. True to Fred’s word, the gardens looked spectacular. Lights glittered through every little nook and cranny, the soft trickling of water from the fountains filling the air. It felt like something from a fairytale.

The pair of them walked together in a peaceful silence, sneaking glances at each other every once in a while. It wasn’t until they found themselves in front of the old weeping willow that they paused.

“Remember this place?” Fred chuckled, his eyes scanning over the draping branches covered in glittering lights.

“How could I forget?”

For the first time that night since they had seen each other, Y/N let go of Fred’s hand. She gently moved aside the curtain of leaves in front of them and stepped into their childhood sanctuary. Fred had to take a moment just to take in the sight of her, a vision in the midst of a sea of stars.

His heart stuttered in his chest.

“Do you remember what we promised each other here?” he asked again, eyes shifting to the trunk behind her.

“It’s on my mind more often than not,” she admitted, feeling heat creep up her neck.

If he noticed how flustered she got, he didn’t comment. Instead, he said, “Me too.”

Y/N was right in front of the trunk now, running her fingers over the indented wood. Nimble digits pausing when they brushed over their initials. Fred couldn’t see her expression, but he could tell that there were many things running through her mind at that moment.

“I think I’ve held up my end of the bargain,” his voice filled the quiet air, “George and I have a rather successful shop in town, if I do say so myself.”

The Princess turned around to face him with a smile, her back to the tree, “I think I’m on my way to fulfilling mine.”

As they spoke, their bodies slowly inched towards each other, magnets unable to stay away. The air around them was charged, pushing the two together bit by bit. Soon, they were toe to toe, breaths mingling and eyes locking.

“I think,” Fred whispered, “I think I’m going to fulfill another dream of mine tonight.”

Time froze as his face dipped close enough for their lips to brush. Y/N let out a soft gasp as he drew close, body abuzz with nervous energy and skin alight with every touch. Fred was there to ease her mind, though, with warm hands at the small of her back and soft lips gently pressing against hers.

She felt herself melting into his arms, melting into the kiss as if it was what she was born to do. Nothing else seemed to matter at that moment.

Like waves finding their way back to the shore, crashing into each other the way only the ocean could, somehow Y/N always knew that Fred would always find his way back to her. The mere thought of it brought a smile to her face and she laughed as he kissed into her smile. Once, twice, three times.

“You are my dream,” Fred whispered once they broke apart, both of them sharing the same dopey grins.

“And you are mine,” she replied, pressing her palm to his heart.

–

The clock tower had already struck midnight when Princess Y/N and Fred decided to make their way back to the castle. The night was far too short for their liking, but it comforted them to know that they had the next day (and the next and the next, and so on) for them to spend with each other.

Their pace remained leisurely as they walked through the familiar place. The castle seemed brand new to the princess now. It was coated in a new light as she looked at it with fresh eyes and a happy heart. She came to the realization that the years spent apart from Fred were far too silent and still without him. Now that she had him by her side, the halls seemed to be filled with happiness and light.

The laughter echoing through the halls and the adrenaline pumping through her as they tried to remain unseen was a welcome feeling. It was familiar, almost intimate in a way. She was thrown back to when they were little and Fred had started teaching her about all the different secrets and passageways the castle had to offer.

“This way, Princess!” a young boy’s voice whisper-yelled to Y/N’s right.

She spun towards the direction of the sound to see Fred pulling aside a large tapestry. Behind it was a hallway she had never seen before. Her eyes widened at the sight, but she did not hesitate to duck into it.

“How did you ever find this place?” she asked, eyes scanning the narrow but comfortable passageway, “And where does it lead to?”

“I spend a lot of time running away from mother,” Fred shrugged. That earned him a laugh from the princess and he let himself feel smug. “This is a shorter way back up to your room, if you’re ever in a hurry.”

Now, instead of shortcuts and easy ways to get from one place to the other, the pair found themselves taking their time. Fred would tug on her hand and bring them into an empty alcove, stealing kisses and sharing soft smiles. His body was warm, a comforting presence beside hers, and Y/N found herself leaning against his side more often than not.

By the time they found themselves outside the Princess’ chamber doors, they were giggling like little children, running away from governesses and mothers.

Y/N’s back was pressed against the door suddenly as Fred’s body enveloped hers in a searing kiss. Her heart beat erratically in her chest as her hands found themselves clutching at his coat.

Then, as quick as he had come, Fred pulled away with a smirk, “Until we see each other next, Princess?”

She scoffed, “If you think I don’t have the resources to track you down and kill you for saying that, you’re wrong.”

“I’m only joking,” he grinned and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him once again, “We always find our way back to each other, don’t we?”

The princess rolled her eyes, but he could see the edges of her lips trying–and failing–not to quirk up.

BONUS

Sirius watched as the Princess hastily stood up from her seat next to him and hurried off in the direction of Fred Weasley. The same Fred Weasley he had been working with for the past few months.

He tried not to stare, but it was too tempting not to. His eyes followed the girl as she deftly wove through the throng of people–people who tried to grab her attention to no avail. It was clear that she had a goal in mind and she wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted.

He watched as they locked eyes, as they shared identical smiles, as they glided through the dance floor and eventually made their way towards the gardens. It was almost ridiculous how elated he felt at the sight.

The chair beside him made a sound as it was pulled back and he turned to see who had taken a seat beside him. Sirius tried to ignore the man next to him, the man who gave him nothing but a smug smile, but it was useless.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, lips quirking slightly.

“I think you owe me a few galleons,” Remus replied, looking very pleased. He cleaned up quite well in his navy blue suit, and Sirius had to hold back from causing a scene in the middle of a very prestigious ball just so that he could show Remus how much he loved him.

Sirius rolled his eyes fondly, “So quick to judge the events that transpired this evening, Moony.”

The look his husband gave him was enough for him to dig into his pockets for a few of the gold coins. Remus held out his hand, opening and closing it in front of him smugly.

“You know,” Sirius said as he pressed the money into Remus’ palm, “When I made a bet against you, saying I was positive that the woman Fred was in love with was not the Princess, I really thought I was going to win.”

Remus pressed a kiss on his cheek and smiled, “Never bet against me, love, you’re never going to win.”

Series Taglist: @prismarts @snoopydoop1 @the-romanian-is-bae @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @manuosorioh @daltonacademia

General taglist: @expectoevans @george-fabian-weasley @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles @harpyloon @nuttytani @mesmerisedangel @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @lumos-barnes @cherryweasleys @writingsomewrongs @the-unmanaged-mischief @mrzweasley @inglourious-imagines @pr3ttysw33t @amrtxntias @miraclesoflove @thatlonelyalto

Weasley twins taglist: @pineapplesandpinas @papapapadumb @a-castle-of--glass @hey-there-angels @leovaldez37 @pinkypurplemagic @werewolfslut @surprizeshawtyy @oldschoolkiddo @gcdricreads @turtletaylor98 @secret-obsessions @weaslxyss @serendiipty @nojamsonmytoast @famdomhideout @georgeweasley19 @asuperconfusedgirl @loonylovegood13 @lumielikesbooks @nanahachikyuu @freds-slut @theweasleytwinsgirl @ghost3rr @littlemisswitt @astoria-malfcy @weasleysprofessionalhoe @freddie-weaselbee @daydreamgirl8 @jubilee-the-flying-dragon-pirate

if your name is crossed out that means i couldn’t tag you! please check your visibility settings

#fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fics #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley au #tw food mention #tw alcohol mention #tw gambling mention

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imkylotrash · 4 years ago

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Peculiar World

Pairing: Saul Silva x reader

Request: Can you do a Saul x wife reader who has magic. She was raised by Damon and was maybe a teen in season 1 of TVD so she was involved with all the crazy. She's also bffs with Klaus and Hopes godmother. She's is a teacher at alfea and the SBS. She is also a mentor to Riven like Saul/Sky.I kinda want to see Saul reaction to all of this as he knows about TVD but never met them. Anonymous

A/N I'm a little limited in my knowledge of Legacies so I've had to leave a little of the request out but I hope you like it anyway! 💛

Tagging: @grey-girl @intoanothermind @anreeixcobra @kingunder221b @lflores2008 @alexiapayne12 @quuenofblacks @quarterback-5 @estelmei @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @artsyle @baueoud @glowingatdawn @shadowhuntyi

"This is going to be an amazing place, you know." You're standing in the doorway of the newly funded Salvatore Boarding Scool remembering all the memories it holds. Alaric turns around with a smile crossing the room to hug you tightly.

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't become a stranger when you moved." You can't help but chuckle. It's not exactly like you just moved a state over.

"I moved to another realm, Ric. It's a little harder than an hour's drive." A couple of students hurry outside laughing. It takes you back to your own high school days though you didn't have a place where you could practise magic openly and safely. You'd lost count of the number of times you'd had to use your magic to save everyone alongside Bonnie, how many times you'd grieved the loss of a loved one and the joy you felt when they made their way back to life.

"I thought I heard my favourite witch." Damon comes walking down the stairs and you must admit that humanity looks good on him. The biggest surprise is Elena not being next to him. When you left, they were quite literally joined by the hip.

"Don't let Bonnie catch you saying that," you chuckle but you're really just happy to see him. He took you in when your parents died and since then the Salvatore mansion had been your home. Back then you'd been his only redemption before he actually started being a good person. Elena had brought it out in him but you like to think you were the beginning of the development. He'd saved your life more than once.

"Don't worry. I tell her the same thing when you're not here." He ruffles up your hair making you feel like a little kid all over again. But this time you're a married adult with your own life and Damon knows that too.

"You look good," he says pulling you in for a hug.

"You too. Apparently, married life suits us both." You know Damon has been torn between wanting to hate Saul for stealing you away and appreciating the fact that he makes you very happy.

"Who would've thought?"

You return to the present realising that you've been standing under the running water long enough for it to turn cold. You use a little magic to quickly dry off your hair so you can be on time for class. You still have no idea how Saul managed to get you a job at Alfea when you're not even a fairy but it makes your marriage a lot easier. Neither of you likes being away from each other but working at Alfea has kept you from your family a lot. You love Saul but you miss Mystic Falls. It clouds your thoughts all through class and by the time you've finished, you're calling Damon to hear how everything is going.

"Hey," you say trying to keep your voice neutral.

"Hi stranger," he replies but you can tell he's busy judging by the sound of chatter in the background. That's when you remember it's family dinner night.

"I completely forgot. We'll talk later." You hang up before he has any time to respond. Your eyes sting but you refuse to cry. It's just tough being away from them all the time. You have more than enough here with Saul and Riven but you miss home.

"I know I'm not a mind fairy but the look on your face says more than enough. What's wrong?" Saul asks. He's just entered your shared bedroom and he looks ready to collapse after a long day.

"It's nothing. I just miss home." You wonder how big the twins have gotten by now and how Hope is doing. You hate to admit that as her godmother you haven't done a pretty good job at being there for her. You text constantly but it's not the same as seeing her. You had promised Klaus to take care of her before he sacrificed himself and then you moved to another realm.

"We could always go visit?" You lock eyes with him never having been more in love with him than right now. Saul has never visited Mystic Falls. Frankly, you'd been terrified to merge those two worlds but now you felt like you had to. You wanted him to know the people who had helped save you and been there as you grew into your own person.

"I'd love that."

"This looks pretty impressive." Saul is standing next to you by the gates of the Salvatore Boarding School looking in awe at the place. You know Alfea is a gorgeous place but it has nothing on the Salvatore mansion.

"Walk me through it again. Vampires, werewolves and witches all in one place?"

"Also, hybrids and tribrids which still doesn't really make sense to me but essentially that's the big three, yeah." You laugh a little as you watch the confusion cloud his face. You grew up here and you still struggled to understand all the stuff that happened.

"We're not staying here for long. Damon invited us over for dinner but I just wanted to stop by here." You keep a lookout for any familiar faces and much to your surprise you spot Hope locking lips with some curly-haired boy.

"Hope?" you exclaim. She is definitely not old enough to be dating and the sight makes you temporarily forget about Saul who's currently fighting the urge to draw out the dagger he always hides in his boot. The soldier in him is terrified of vampires and werewolves thinking of the horror stories he always heard as a child despite your reassurances that they were people the same as the fairies.

"Y/N?" Hope runs right into your arms not believing her own eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she asks excitedly. Seeing her makes you realise just how much you've missed this place. You introduce her to Saul who's trying to take everything in and relax a little. You don't blame him. Hearing about vampires and werewolves is very different from actually being around them. Some vampires still give you the creeps even now.

"Thank you for coming," you whisper as Hope leads the way to Alaric's office. She's talking so much she doesn't even notice you saying anything. It's nice seeing her so happy and confident in herself compared to seeing her back in New Orleans. This school had really helped her.

"Here we are," she says stopping in front of a set of doors with Ric's name on it.

"We're staying for a few days. How about you ditch school tomorrow and tell me all about that lover boy I caught you with outside." Hope is quick to agree before heading back outside. It's nice seeing her happy. You know Klaus would've enjoyed it too.

"You ready?" He nods his head and you open the door to see Ric and the twins. It's a happy reunion adding to the feeling of missing out on everything.

"If you miss it so much, I've got a job opening? You could come to teach every other week to make your schedule work." Could it work? Could you have the best of both worlds? You look over at Saul who looks just as surprised as you. It would take some work and planning but you needed this.

"Do you think we could make it work?" you ask Saul hoping he'll say yes. Hoping he'll support you.

"I think you gave up a lot for me by moving to Alfea so it would only be fair that we made this work. Of course, we can make it work." He's still freaked out by the number of supernatural people running around here but he has to admit that it's pretty impressive they all manage to co-exist. He's eager to learn more about them and the history behind their existence. It's also a huge plus that he gets to see you happy.

"I guess my answer is yes then."

#winx saga #saul silva x reader #saul silva imagine #saul silva blurb #saul silva #winx saul silva #fate the winx saga #fate the winx club #fate series #fate netflix #winx netflix #winx club #tvd fandom #tvd

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delicioussshame · 3 years ago

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I remembered this fic only a few days ago. Sorry. Have the second part.

At least he wrote to Luo Binghe before his little stunt.

He hangs onto this small bright spot like a lifeline as he stares at his phone, back in his apartment. Once his disciple has read the message Shen Yuan sent, he’ll understand that his shizun was just pretending to be a bitch. He’ll probably find it in his heart to forgive the humiliation, especially since Shen Yuan will be suffering from it way more than Tianlang-Jun’s fucking son ever will.

If his parents found out he befriended one of China’s richest moguls’ heir, they might ease up on the forced partying, but alas. He won’t tell them. That would ruin his whole schtick.

Never mind that! How the hell is Luo Binghe’s Tianlang-Jun’s son! That was very much not included in the backstory he was given by him! Single mother, poor upbringing, tiny village! Not uber-rich daddy just waiting for him to join him in the big city, woo just as rich women and inherit his endless conglomerate! Tianlang-Jun wasn’t even known to have children! Or a wife! Luo Binghe kept him in the dark! Or he outright lied to him!

Okay, so maybe Shen Yuan did not tell Luo Binghe he also was a scion of the rich and famous of Beijing. They had shared precious little about their personal lives. There had been too many novels to discuss. Luo Binghe must surely have been just as surprised as Shen Yuan himself.

Shen Yuan holds his phone, typing and deleting another message to Luo Binghe. He doesn’t know how to apologise for the frankly abysmal way he’d treated him.

Just as he’s deleting another string of characters, his phone beeps. Shizun remembers our date tomorrow, right?

…So Luo Binghe isn’t angry, right? He’s not, right? He wouldn’t call it a date if he only wanted to break Shen Yuan’s face with his mighty fists, would he?

(Okay, he’s not sure why Luo Binghe is calling it a date anyway, but whatever.)

I do.

Good! I can’t wait to see him!

…Maybe Binghe has an identical twin brother. That would explain everything.

It makes at least as much sense as Luo Binghe being a pure white lotus and a fan of online literature, while also being a rich playboy standing to inherit one of the country’s biggest conglomerates.

…He’ll find out soon enough. See you tomorrow then.

Just to be on the safe side, he’ll stop by a nice bakery before they meet.

_________________

It is possible it’s the fifth time Shen Yuan checks his watch.

It is also possible his nerves got the better of him and made him arrive forty-five minutes early. Sue him.

“Shizun!”

If their relationship is going to continue, he needs to put a stop to this appellation. It’s terrible for both their image.

Shen Yuan turns toward the call, and almost flinches away from the force of his disciple’s radiance. There’s no way this Binghe, cheeks flushed from having rushed over and wide smile on his face, is anything like the lady-killer Shen Yuan crossed the other day.

Identical twins. Shen Yuan is calling it.

“Shizun must forgive me for the other night! If I had known he would be there, I would have warned him!”

For fuck’s sake what the hell is happening. “Binghe doesn’t need to apologise! If anything, I was the one whose conduct was horrid. I should be the one apologising!” He shoves the pretty pastel paper bag in Binghe’s chest “Here, pastries! You like those, right? Take it as a gesture of good will and repentance. And everything we do today is on me.” Not that Luo Binghe needs his money. If anything, he’s probably richer than Shen Yuan’s whole family combined.

Binghe peeks into the bag and thanks him before setting it aside, obviously uninterested for now. “From what I gathered, I suspect we were using similar strategies, since what I’ve heard about you cannot possibly be true. There must be more to this.”

Shen Yuan can imagine what the people he has systematically alienated for years must have told him, and feel dread pooling in his stomach. “What did they say.”

Luo Binghe waves it away. “Nothing important. I don’t believe a word of it. I know Shizun better than they ever will, I’m sure of it.”

Well, okay. Shen Yuan will definitely take it. “How about you, then? Binghe was…” terrifyingly seductive, “another person yesterday.”

“My father’s idea. He said that if I were to integrate his world, it was his duty as a father to make sure I’m not eaten alive. I took acting lessons.”

Acting lessons! Seriously? “And have you considered making that your profession?” Because with that persona, Luo Binghe would become China’s number one heartthrob seconds following his first apparition on a small, or big, screen.

“I’m going to take it as a compliment, especially from you. Your performance was quite notable. It gave me chills.”

Yeah, chills born out of awkwardness. “I’m nothing compared to him. Just to be certain: Binghe pretends to be a smooth socialite to fit in, right?”

Luo Binghe nods.

“How do you stand it? I could never manage to pretend that I appreciate Xiao Gongzhu or Sha Hualing. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that their diet is mainly composed of human flesh, with a preference for young men.”

“Surely Shizun is exaggerating? They were nothing but nice to me.”

“With your looks and your status, of course they were.”

“If that was what they were after, wouldn’t they get along with Shizun just fine? He’s also got both those things.”

Shen Yuan tries not to let his befuddlement appears on his face. “I have status, but not anywhere near as high as yours? That’s all that matters to those girls. If he tried to prepare you, your father must have warned you about people like them.” He’s not even going to abase himself by addressing the looks issue. They both have eyes. Only one of them looks like he could grace the cover of Vogue China, and it sure isn’t Shen Yuan.

“He did warn me of enterprising women in general, before going on a tangent about enterprising women who are too independent to agree to marriage and instead run away to give birth in lost villages without informing their partner, which I have gathered must be about my birth mother. It’s nothing I couldn’t have thought of myself. Anyway, Shizun shouldn’t worry. I have no plans to choose either of them as a partner.”

Shen Yuan lets out a relieved sigh. “Good. Binghe deserves better. He should look for someone he cares for to share his life with.” It’s not like he’ll need their money.

“That’s what I’m doing.”

Already? He didn’t even start class yet. “Good for you. I’m wishing you luck.”

“Thank you, but I will make my own luck.” With a lack of shame Shen Yuan can only envy, Luo Binghe grabs his hand and drags him toward the nearby street. “Let’s go! There is so much to see here! We can’t afford to waste time!”

Shen Yuan smiles, charmed by Luo Binghe’s childish enthusiasm. “Let’s.”

________________________

Shen Yuan returns to his apartment with a peace of mind only one who has buried his terrible mistake down deep in the ground can attain. He explained to Luo Binghe why he acts as he acts, and Luo Binghe accepted it. Luo Binghe explained to him the same, and it made sense to Shen Yuan. They had spent the whole day wandering around the city, eating delicious food and visiting anything that attracted Luo Binghe’s varied interests.

Had Shen Yuan expected to spend an hour comparing cooking utensils? Why, no, he hadn’t. Was it boring? Miraculously, no. Was it worth it, considering he ended up getting invited over to dinner? If the pastries Luo Binghe had made him before were an indication of his general abilities in the kitchen, Shen Yuan would have easily spent three more hours in that shop, listening to Binghe rave about the selection he could have never gotten in his tiny village that was apparently so remote that even ordering online wasn’t always possible, for such an invite.

Reality, sadly, is eager to unbury the mistake he had just set aside.

It does so via an email bearing his mother’s address, reminding him that his presence to Qin Wanyue’s birthday party was very much expected.

Shen Yuan is going to have to prepare his most cutting insults and, fuck, have to double down on ruining Luo Binghe’s reputation, isn’t he? He can’t admit his error. It would leave him open to attacks. He can only act even worse, treating Luo Binghe as if the revelation of his true parentage did not improve his status in Shen Yuan’s eyes.

Fuuuuck. How is he going to manage being meaner than he previously was to such a gentle soul? If Binghe looked hurt for even a second, Shen Yuan’s years of masquerade would burn down in an instant as he exploded in apologies.

He needs a plan.

“Shizun?”

“Binghe! Sorry to bother you so soon after I left, but do you have a minute? It’s important.”

“Shizun could never be a bother. What is he calling about?”

“Are you invited to Qin Wanyue’s party?”

“Yes. So is Shizun? It’s good that we’ll see each other again so soon!”

“No it’s not! I can’t be nice to you! I’m sorry, but you’ll thank me later. I just wanted Binghe to know that I don’t mean anything I tell him. He can’t take it to heart, okay? That’s just something that needs to be done.

“About that, I had an idea. It’ll be fun!”

Shen Yuan blinks. How could anything related to polite society be fun? He’s convinced that if fun and formal parties ever happened in the same space, a singularity would form and swallow the place whole.

And nothing of value would be lost. “What is Binghe’s idea?”

“We’re both acting, aren’t we? How about we flesh out our characters…”

________________________

Face impassive but heart beating so fast it’s about to jump out of his chest, Shen Yuan steps into the perfectly arranged garden party.

Whispers instantly rise. Smothered but mocking laughter can be heard. Eyes rove over him, anticipating the explosion they feel coming.

Luckily for them, they’re about to get their money’s worth.

Shen Yuan, as is his habitude, settles down somewhere unoccupied and pulls out his phone, trying to forget Binghe’s impending arrival within the pages of a terrible novel he usually loves to rage at. Very good source of inspiration for his current demeanor.

“Oh, it’s you. You dared to show your face here. I can’t believe your gall.”

Shen Yuan doesn’t look up. Xiao Gongzhu doesn’t deserve his attention.

Until she tries to slap him. “So arrogant! I’ll teach you your place!”

Her hand is caught by Luo Binghe, his long fingers curling around her wrist in a way that looks more caress than impediment. “A beautiful lady like you shouldn’t waste your time on the likes of him.”

Shen Yuan lifts his eyes from his phone and gives Luo Binghe his most disdainful glare. “I’d ask you to keep your pet on its leash, but if anyone here is a beast, it must be you, bastard.”

The silence around them is complete.

Tianlang-Jun had never been married. He wasn’t even known to maintain a mistress or two.

The family resemblance wasn’t striking, but present enough that Luo Binghe being an adopted child was unlikely.

Ergo, Luo Binghe is an illegitimate child, probably only brought into the family when the existence of legitimate heirs became unlikely. What a scandal, really.

No one had dared bring this up yet, but if anything would, it would be that asshole Shen Yuan, wouldn’t it?

Luo Binghe’s eyes focus on him, righteous anger on his face. “At least someone wants me. From what I understand, it’s never been your case, was it?”

Shen Yuan shoves his phone in his pocket with a swift gesture conveying fury. “Who would want someone here to want there? Each one more worthless than the other. You’ve really found your place, haven’t you?”

“If this world is so unpleasant to you, how about you leave and never come back? I assure you no one would miss you.” Luo Binghe turns toward the captivated audience. “Would you?”

Again, muffled laughter and cruel eyes, but few open responses. Too dangerous, really. Even if it didn’t compare to Tianlang-Jun’s empire, the Shen family was far from powerless.

Luo Binghe continues as if nothing had happened. “No one to defend you, I see. You didn’t give me a chance to demonstrate it, but I’m usually a kind man. If you had been able to control your nature for a few minutes, we might have become close, you and I. You’ve got so much more experience navigating these troubled seas. I would have welcomed the lessons.” Luo Binghe shakes his head in exaggerated sorrow. “Alas, it wasn’t to be. You have chosen otherwise, so by all means, let’s travel the road you’ve picked, shall we? For all that you’ve called me beast, you’re the raging dog chained to a post, unable to join in no matter how much he rages.” Luo Binghe waves at the air invitingly.” Go on, rage uselessly. It certainly is of no concern to me.”

“Can a head as empty as yours even be concerned with anything? Nothing you’ve said have proved otherwise. As for that taunt you tried to wield against me, I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you. I have no interest in responding to you in any way. In fact,” Shen Yuan pulls his phone out of his pocket and goes back to his book, “you’re already wasted too much of my time. Go have fun with your equals. I’m sure they’ll soothe your fragile ego, in-between throwing daggers at your back.”

Shen Yuan stubbornly refuses to react to Luo Binghe’s sightly disbelieving laughter, or to the insults thrown to his face by others. He just lets Luo Binghe shake his head again, as if appalled, and guide his cronies away from Shen Yuan, leaving him in blessed peace.

Just as planned.

________________________

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was how one of Beijing’s elite most infamous rivalry was born.

As far as said elite knew.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #the AU where SY and LBH are both online friends and fellow socialites #I hope to finish this in one or two other parts #because I cannot let this one drag on #LBH pov next maybe

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selfwriting-sugarquills · 4 years ago

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70 George Weasley headcanons in celebration of 700 followers!

A/N: I hate to repeat myself but I do still love and appreciate all 700 of you! Thank you for reading my stuff and here’s to 700 more! <3

Find the 70 Fred Headcanons: Here

George is well known to be the brains behind the twins’ operations. He sorted out finding the location for the shop in Diagon Alley, he came up with most of the names for their products, even if Fred came up with the idea for the product itself, and for the longest time, he was the one who sorted out sales and orders for stocking their wares as well as overseeing the owl post-service while Fred sorted the more practical parts.

It might sound crazy, but if you ask George, he didn’t actually like Fred very much until they were about eight or nine years old. George was a lot more quiet and emotional than Fred and frankly, probably feared his mother more than his twin, and so George always thought Fred was too brash for his liking. Eventually, as we know, Fred’s crazy ideas rubbed off on George, and he started liking his twin more and more until they became the inseparable duo we know and love today. Mostly this was because the two found out how well they complimented each other, which meant that whatever they got up to turned out a lot better than when they’d attempt the same alone.

Fred added an extra oomph to their escapades, daring to aim just a little higher, and George was sensible enough to make sure that a little higher wasn’t too high.

It’s only their older siblings who noticed this change and remember the times where Fred and George didn’t get along as well as they did, which is why Bill, Charlie and Percy tend to treat the twins more as individuals whereas Ginny and Ron are more likely to see them as a duo.

Since George is more sentimental, he’s also the bigger worrier. Did they like that joke? Did that prank go too far? Is this worth it and what are we going to do if it isn’t? He’s usually also the twin who’s more likely to step back and apologise to anyone they’ve pranked or teased, not liking the idea of upsetting someone.

This also means he’s incredibly considerate concerning relationships, he’s not afraid to voice his concerns and worries. If his s/o is struggling with something, he notices, worries and tries his best to support them.

Essentially, if their s/o is upset: Fred is more likely to make a joke to make them laugh and take their mind off it, George is more likely to take them aside and talk to them about it, letting them let their feelings out for as long as they need, he’ll listen for hours if that’s what his s/o needs.

Speaking of letting feelings out: It’s been pondered if the reason George is the better beater, despite Fred being the more brash and extreme of the two, is because he uses the quidditch pitch as an outlet for his aggression and considering his anger doesn’t just involve beating bludgers but also resorting to elbowing people in the face (or beating Malfoy up) I’d say that this is incredibly true for him. Most people share the opinion that if something angers George, he’d let it build up until he explodes (myself included) and playing quidditch is a good way to let off steam without it being directed at anyone in particular, making him extremely violent on the pitch, though after every game he plays, he’ll probably be in his most zen and relaxed state of mind.

I do also like the idea of George being very emotionally mature in the sense that he knows how his feelings tend to build up, and since George is also a worrier, he probably doesn’t like the side of him that explodes in people’s faces and yells until he’s done being angry, so: He does try to confront his feelings as soon as he feels them so they don’t get a hold on him. If he’s angry with you, he’ll tell you, if he’s upset because of something that’s happened he’ll tell you. If he doesn’t and seems all quiet and broody (cause he’s not a saint and sometimes he doesn’t confess his feelings) then it’s probably a good idea that you ask him about it.

George is also not afraid to cry, or at least he’s not as afraid to show it as Fred. He actually cried quite often as a small child, as Fred will happily remind him. The only times George will hold his tears back is when he doesn’t want to make the people he loves the most worry, like when he lost his ear.

He was so close to crying he thought his throat would split open but he kept it in while his parents and Fred were there; he couldn’t bear to worry his mother more. Not to mention Fred for that matter. Instead, he waited until he was allowed to take a shower and let it out as quietly as he could, though little did he know Fred was standing guard on the other side of the bathroom door, crying as well.

George doesn’t want a lot of children, he’s so used to the large family dynamic. It’s not that he disliked having many siblings but he’d prefer to have a few kids, three at most and be able to spoil them rotten.

George has only broken one bone. It was his collarbone from a bludger. Besides that, he has dislocated his arm once due to hitting a bludger too forcefully from a wrong angle and sprained his ankle from landing too quickly more times than he can count. He’s also been concussed from taking bludgers to the head twice.

George is actually a bit of a neat-freak. He likes having things in order and in the right place so he doesn’t lose track of things. He can’t put too many things in cupboards because if he can’t see them he’ll forget he has them and buy more and more (cause ADHD, baby), so instead he keeps things where he can see them, though in racks and specific orders which Fred often messes up.

Generally, once they moved out, George was better at doing the housework and he didn’t mind at all. Doing all the housework means it gets done the way he wants it done.

His favourite season is winter and his favourite holiday is Christmas because it’s “a time for family”.

George prefers Molly over Arthur (though it’s a tough pick), and he especially loves spoiling her once the shop takes off. He’ll buy her gifts often and always writes to remind her how much he (and Fred) appreciate her.

He’d never admit it but he also does this as a way of proving himself to her. It really hurt him in those years where Molly would disapprove of his and Fred’s plans and even when he found success he still grappled with the feeling of his mother not being proud of him, despite her telling him that several times. All this just added to his disliking of Percy when he was at his going through his insensitive-git-phase.

George’s favourite time of day is the evening. When everything’s quiet and still he can concentrate better. He wrote most of his essays and came up with most products for the shop during this time.

George loves intimacy. He’s not big on PDA. Cuddling alone together, being all tangled up in each other and having whispered conversations when everyone else is asleep are more his thing.

He does love being close to you in public though, he’ll sit next to you, hold your hand, have an arm around you, lean his head on yours, bump his knee against yours under the table if you’re in a lesson or at a meal together. Small yet intimate touches are George’s romantic love language.

George’s favourite sweet is chocolate. Anything with chocolate is good. If there’s caramel or coffee involved too then even better, mint is also accepted (his favourite flavour of ice cream is mint chocolate chip and he will fight you on why it’s the superior ice cream flavour)

George prefers tea over coffee and drinks AT LEAST two cups a day but can easily have up to four or five depending on how long his day is.

George takes a lot of naps. He’d occasionally nap at Hogwarts, like most students. He really started after he lost his ear because Molly kept fussing over him and forcing him to go lay down and rest, then it became even more of a regular thing after the battle of Hogwarts when he’d stay with Fred at st. Mungo’s, while he got better, and then when Fred forced him to go back to work because “sitting here, is not going to make my leg work, now go make us some galleons you git!” he’d work the shop mostly by himself, well, actually completely by himself beside his employees, which was still a small team at the time and he’d often just have to excuse himself to go upstairs and take 30 minutes to nap before he’d pass out from exhaustion.

George struggles with some sensory problems since losing his ear, he gets a faint ringing sound in his ear every now and then, and though he can hear out of his missing ear, it’s less than his other one and he struggles determining where sounds are coming from which is distracting sometimes. He also got a bit of vertigo every now and then as well as some nausea for the first few years after he lost the ear, it got better and better and today it barely bugs him, though he gets dizzy easily.

On the subject of the ear: George enjoyed telling his nieces and nephews (and heck his own kids too) these wild stories of how he lost his ear: he paid it as a toll to an ancient spirit to gain superpowers, it froze off on a particularly cold camping trip with their uncle Fred, a bludger blew it right off, he was possessed by the spirit of van Gogh…. the list goes on.

George was also slightly self-conscious of his ear for a while, he often worried if people were grossed out by it, though with time he forgot about it more and more until he hardly noticed it himself. Now he doesn’t notice if others notice and frankly, he couldn’t care less if they do.

Fred and George mention in OOTP that they took turns testing products, George tested puking pastilles and ended up taking several days off because of what Madam Pomfrey thought was a bad case of the stomach flu, nosebleed nougat (he said himself how it kept bleeding and at that point he let Fred do more testing because Madam Pomfrey was starting to get wayyy to suspicious of him having some terrible disease that was thought to be long gone) and fever fudge though Fred also tried that one.

George takes after his mother as a parent, his platonic love language is definitely cooking for his kids, making them hot cocoa and baking with them during Christmas breaks.

Does he fuss over his kids as Molly does? Noo, absolutely not no. no way. no. no. (yes)

George’s boggart is being left alone.

Despite that, he hates it when people assume that he and Fred are interchangeable and incapable of being without each other. He loves his friendship with Fred, he’s very happy to be his twin but he’s still his own person and it would be nice to be seen as such and not just “one of the Weasley twins”

Mostly his hatred of being seen as “one of the Weasley twins” stems from the fact that people always assume Fred first, meaning George has been mistakenly called Fred more times than he can count.

George is very timid, to begin with, in any relationships because he’s worried his s/o wants him to be like Fred, and that they don’t really care about him as a person but see him more as an asset or “the next best thing to Fred” Which is also why he’d never marry Angelina after she’d dated Fred, even if it was just for a while.

George spent his first salary from the shop on a gift for his mother, a necklace, and a mixed bag of sweets from Sugarplums'...He knows it’s stupid but he just wanted to buy as much candy as he wanted without feeling guilty about spending money for once.

George is not squeamish what so ever. He has got a stomach of steel. It’s almost kind of freaky how unfaced he is but then again, he did invent and test puking pastilles and a product called you-no-poo, so he’s seen a lot.

George’s favourite dates are movie nights and going for ice cream.

George (and Fred) regularly attends quidditch matches, they also love to go back to Hogwarts to watch their kids play (you know at least one of their kids would be into it, considering the Weasley’s history with the sport) and they always yell out their support v e r y loudly.

George really likes wine. The older he gets he appreciates it more and enjoys talking about it without any knowledge on it at business dinners, he’s impressed quite a few potential clients and business partners by giving them a long tirade about wine, without a single thing of it being necessarily true.

George (+Fred and Lee, lol) experimented with eyeliner for a short while, they stopped because it was quote-unquote: “too much work” which made a lot of their female friends roll their eyes because, oh you’ve no idea, do you, Weasley?

I mean someone had to test the wonderwitch products, right?

George is a very light sleeper, and since Fred is anything but that- what with his sleepwalking and tossing and turning- George rarely got a lot of sleep, meaning there’s a large percentage of his detentions in school that were solely from “inattentiveness” aka “falling asleep in class.”

George always thought that if he really really couldn’t work with the joke shop, he’d be a healer. He doesn’t know if he’d be any good at it but it’s a nice thought and he does have a caring gene from his mother.

George’s first sign of magic was when he was a year old. He summoned a blanket into his crib, so it wasn’t much. His first noticeable thing he did was three years later by blasting Fred off him when they were play-wrestling, he basically shocked him with a defensive charge which sent Fred flying onto his back. Fred’s reaction was sitting up, looking shocked, rubbing his head and then whispering: “cool!” They spent days trying to recreate it but to no avail. The story of the event has been greatly exaggerated by both Fred and George to their nieces and nephews.

They still joke that George has a secret superpower that can only be unlocked by play-wrestling him.

As George gets older, he requires glasses like his father, though mostly for reading and sometimes for working on products.

George’s favourite genre of music is soft rock, he’ll belt out an 80’s power ballad any day (and preferably while cooking)

Oh, cooking. George gets super into cooking and baking after the twins move out, he tries his best to recreate his mother’s recipes and is still to this day attempting to perfect her cornish pasty (a personal favourite of his) and every Christmas, George and Molly practically never leave the kitchen in the burrow, as George desperately tries to learn everything he can.

George is the godparent of all Fred’s kids as well as Albus, Dominique and Lucy.

George buys the best gifts, I’ve already touched on this, but he has a weird ability to get you not only what you wish for but what you really need.

Also, his gift wrapping skills are out of this world (his kids + nieces and nephews will never not receive those gifts that are wrapped in like 100 layers of paper)

George loves pet names, he loves the overly sweet, cliché ones and the simple, common ones. His favourite to call his s/o is darling, sweetheart and, weirdly, pumpernickel (he just thinks it’s a funny word).

George’s favourite dates he’d take his s/o on is: museum dates, cooking for them at home, picnics and going to the beach.

George actually kind of liked the Hogwarts uniform. It was easy to keep track of and it meant he could spend minimum time in hand-me-downs that rarely fit perfectly.

George would love to have (and probably has already got) a dog, he doesn’t care what size or breed (but personally I can see him getting on well with a cavalier or a Stabyhoun)

George (also) has a small size kink: He loves wrapping his arms around his s/o from behind, enveloping them in his jacket when it’s cold and resting his head on top of theirs.

George is either full of energy and wants to do five things at once or wants nothing more than to lay flat on the nearest soft surface he can find and watch movies until he falls asleep.

He often takes his s/o on random adventures, he does it as a way to escape boredom or if he’s lost his inspiration. He finds it helps to come up with new ideas if you throw yourself off your rhythm (if you get it you get it) by doing something random you don’t normally do.

George has big John Mulaney energy and if his s/o ever showed him his shows, he’d probably never stop quoting them.

George’s favourite body parts on his s/o: Neck, hands, lips (and butt) (this is where it gets steamy just fyi)

George is very respectful in bed, he’s the type to ask “are you ok?” and “is this ok?” a lot, at least the first couple of times he’s together with his s/o until he gets to know them better.

George def. has a praise kink, he loves giving praise but he also loves feeling like he’s appreciated and loved and doing a good job, you know?

We all know George has a thing for lace, we’re way beyond that at this point. Consider silk, though. He’d totally be into silk over the lace, it’s a light fabric, pretty and really easy to tear away…. *wink*

George is surprisingly good at opening bras.

Generally, he’s really good with his fingers…

He has a pretty dirty mind when it comes to sex but is also super embarrassed about it so he’d only admit his kinkier thoughts when he really trusts and knows his s/o.

I think he’d be pretty two-sided in bed, he loves the intimate, sweet sex but also the rougher, tearing-your-lingerie-off-you sex.

He prefers receiving more than giving oral but it is by such a small margin, he’ll happily give.

He can only last one round (maybe two if you give him a long break) but he’ll absolutely make it count.

George’s fav position is missionary. As much as he likes trying other positions, he prefers the intimacy of missionary. Plus he thinks being able to see your face as you unravel under him is really hot.

#700 follower celebration #george weasley #george weasley headcanon #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfic #hp headcanons #harry potter headcanon #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins headcanons #weasley twins #selfwriting-sugarquills 700 follower celebration

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wallwriterstuff · 4 years ago

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Baby’s First Christmas ||Demetri Volturi x Female Reader||

Part 1: Found Family

Warnings: Mentions of death very briefly but the majority of this is tooth rotting christmas fluff.

Words: 3707

Summary: A request for @raindancer2004

A Christmas one-shot for Found Family. It’s Lyra’s first Christmas with Demetri in the home he has brought for himself and his new family, and he goes overboard ensuring his little girl is spoiled rotten.

There are had been many horrible days in the past year. Your boyfriend of the time had packed up and left in April, your daughter born to you in the January where your only support in the room was a midwife who had been called in last minute to replace the one suddenly taken ill. Your best friend leaving to a new city in March, never to be heard of again despite leaving you the gift of a lovely holiday – where you almost died. Meeting Demetri was one of the few highlights of your year if you were honest, and life had gradually improved since with his video calls, once weekly and suddenly every other day when you both realised you physically couldn’t cope with the silence for more than 24 hours at a time.

Then your parents died.

Demetri had flown straight out, taking some extended leave to ensure you had someone to lean on in your grief. Lyra had needed someone to care for her properly on the days your tired body couldn’t cope. It wasn’t until you had came crawling pitifully down the stairs for some sleeping tablets at 3AM once that you understood how difficult it had been for him, catching him hunched over a baby book as he absorbed every word in an effort to be the perfect caregiver for your daughter. When he’d asked you to let him look after you in a more permanent fashion, you’d agreed without hesitation. He had taken you back to Volterra the following week, helping you pack your possessions, sell what you didn’t want, and send things off to await your arrival. You’d ignored the looks of your neighbours, the old kooks peering through the curtains to eye you with disdain. What kind of woman moved to a new country with her boyfriend of four months after all? Obviously, you had to be knocked up again.

They had no understanding of just how deep the bond between you and Demetri was, not a single idea of how all-consuming, soul warming and fulfilling your love for each other had grown to be. Your new home was ready and waiting and it was beautiful, a little Tuscan cottage all of your own on the outskirts of town, far from the danger of the Volturi’s castle and away from prying eyes where you could raise your daughter in peace. He had spared no expense at all, letting you decorate to your hearts content in an effort to move on with your life, away from the grief and the pain the world had tried to beat you down with before he lifted you above it. Now…now you were feeling that familiar, frazzled feeling. You had gone to Florence for the day, leaving Demetri alone for a full day with lyra for the first time since…ever. It was as much a test for him as it was for you. You found yourself missing Lyra not ten minutes into the drive towards the city, having spent most of your time with her for the past 11 months since she’d been born.

What had followed had been one stressful problem after the next as you tried to complete your Christmas shopping for your found family. You had been forced to visit the castle once or twice to declare yourself to the Masters’ as Demetri’s mate, but a few of his friends had also come to visit you. Felix was a family favourite, though his size unnerved your daughter when Lyra first met him, and the twins had been curious about the baby Demetri had been telling them about. In your mind, they were still children and very much deserving of Christmas presents. The twins didn’t give much away, so you’d guessed at a lot of the things they might like but were fairly happy with you haul. Felix had been the only one that was easy to buy for to but Demetri…what did you get for the man that had everything and wanted nothing? He had given you the world and a pair of socks didn’t seem to be the best kind of repayment.

You had agonised for hours, walking around in a bustling shopping mall where the fluorescent lights made your eyes hurt and the constant chatter in rapid Italian made your head spin. Demetri had been teaching you but you were by no means fluent, and the people in the city spoke much faster than the local market stall owners you had gotten to know – you were starting to suspect they slowed down for you on purpose. Your day had been long and your stress levels high. You just wanted to settle down with your mate and your daughter, cosy up for the night perhaps, but you still had gifts to wrap. Maybe it could wait. Christmas day was still a few weeks away yet, you hadn’t even put up a tree to put your presents under.

Eyes trailing to the bags in the back of your car, you bit your lip softly and felt your heart skitter in your chest. You hoped they would like their presents but you weren’t holding out much hope of a thank you, especially not from the twins. Demetri had heard of the Christmas holidays but the traditions surrounding it were new news to him, and it had taken a lot of explaining before he finally seemed to understand how important this was for you to celebrate.

Lyra’s first Christmas.

When she had been born and you’d started thinking of these things you would never in your wildest dreams have imagined she would be spending it in her new home in Italy, nowhere near her biological father and without her doting grandparents, yet here you were. With a quiet sigh, you steeled yourself to put on a happy face and gathered your things to enter your home. Immediately, you were hit by the smell of spring flowers, a sure sign Demetri had been cleaning today. How he had found time to do that while caring for Lyra you didn’t know but you put it down to his vampirism. If it wasn’t so important for Lyra to grow up with you around in her formative years you might have considered turning sooner purely for the perks of moving fast and not needing sleep anymore, though she was starting to sleep better now and was on her way to her first full night of rest.

Upon opening your door your world became bright and colourful, not the neutral tones of your hallway you were used to. Bright red tinsel was wrapped around your stair railing, twisting upward to the second floor of the cottage, and it framed the photographs adoring the walls in a dazzling array of red, green and blue. A few snowflakes had been tied to the poles of the stair railing by some white ribbon. Slowly, you placed your bags by the door and closed it behind you, locking it for added safety before venturing carefully into your home. You hadn’t remembered asking Demetri to put up any decorations, hell you didn’t even think you owned any, so where had all this come from? The glass in the door leading from the hallway to the living room was frosted, but you were able to see a dark shape moving back and forth, the vague outline of a Christmas tree.

Your kitchen had a tiny tree on the breakfast bar, a Christmas themed tablecloth lying over your dining room table and, much to your amusement, little festive gel stickers on the window looking out over the garden. The legs of Lyra’s high-chair was also wrapped in tinsel. You couldn’t help but smile as you turned towards the living room, listening to the conversation inside.

“Not here either? You are fussy today your highness.” Demetri’s voice was light, teasing, completely at ease. Lyra had grown to be quite the babbler and he was more than happy to engage in conversation with the eleven-month-old girl, even if she couldn’t form proper words just yet. More garbled noises escaped your daughter and when you peeped around the doorframe, your heart melted. Demetri’s Christmas tree had been trimmed to be a little lopsided, not quite to your tastes, but he had tried. Lyra was on her blanket, surrounded by her toys, but none of them seemed to be taking her interest as she sat and watched Demetri put the last few ornaments on a frankly overcrowded tree. There were glistening lights and tinsel and beads and tinsel and baubles and…and…

“Is that…Demetri is that my parents?” you asked, having to swallow around the lump that had formed in your throat. He turned to look at you, still holding the last bauble of a big box of them in his hands. For a moment he said nothing, simply watched you take in all the lights and ornaments he’d put up about the place, the stockings by the fireplace personalised for you and Lyra. How much had he spent? How hard had he worked?

“Yes. I understood Christmas celebrations as something you did with family from how you explained them to me, so I thought they should be here in some way,” He said softly. Tears welled in your eyes and he frowned, “Is it not what you wanted? I can always redecorate?” he looked a little lost as you wiped your eyes and hurried into the room to scoop up Lyra, smiling through your tears as your overwhelmed heart skittered in your chest. This man was just too much for you. Bouncing her on your hip you pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Have you seen this? Look what Da – Demetri’s done for us!” you quickly caught yourself, your voice shaking with the intensity of your emotion. It was too much but in all the best ways. Lyra was absorbed immediately by the twinkling lights on the tree as you brought her closer, showing her the glass bauble with your parents photograph in. She looked back at you, head turning so fast it almost fell off her little shoulders.

“Ah!” she exclaimed, looking back between you and the bauble. Head nodding you tenderly brushed your hand over her hair. It had started to grow a bit more recently and you were able now to twist small pieces at the front around your fingertip. Demetri kissed your temple, winding an arm around your waist.

“Welcome home.” He murmured, lips trailing along your shoulder, up your throat. Your head tilted automatically and you could feel him smiling at your obvious submission.

“This is perfect.” You whispered. He chuckled.

“I tried my best.” He assured you.

“Our house is clean.” You noted.

“Hmmm, hardly any evidence of disaster.” He agreed with a cheeky grin as you turned to face him. Lyra wriggled, wanting to be put down. She had started crawling just last week and after a bit of rocking, managed to haphazardly crawl back towards her toys. You watched her go with adoring eyes.

“She seems happy.” You said. Demetri chuckled, cupping your cheek tenderly.

“I told you I could do it,” He turned you to face him, embracing you properly this time. You melted into his arms, kissing him sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder. “You seem very tense.” He murmured, fingertips skating up and down your spine. Your nose scrunched.

“Christmas shopping is a tense activity.” You retorted wryly.

“Ah, I have yet to experience the joys. Is there anything you want?” he wondered. You smiled, curling closer to him.

“I have everything I need right here.” You sighed contentedly, basking in the warm glow of fairy lights. Demetri didn’t reply, simply held you close and kissed your forehead. You were rather excited the next day, to wrap and put his presents under your newly decorated tree. Lyra took to helping you with the bows and after a constant battle of wrestling the one she chose from her tiny hands you had some fully wrapped presents…which you then had to keep your child away from. What you didn’t understand was how the present pile just kept growing…and growing…and growing…

Finally, four days before Christmas Day, you caught Demetri in the act. With a cough and some raised eyebrows, you had the suave tracker smiling sheepishly.

“Yes, my love?” he asked, feigning innocence terribly.

“Just how many presents have you brought Demetri? You do know Lyra is only turning one in January, right? She won’t remember half of these things. Christmas is what you do, not what you buy.” You reminded him. His sheepish smile turned cheeky as he moved at lightning speed to place the last of the presents in his bag around the tree, since there hadn’t been room under it for weeks now, and raced over to pull you against him. He stole your breath and anymore scolding words you’d prepared with a single, heated kiss. If he was trying to distract you, it worked wonders.

“Not all are for my princess,” he assured you, his hand slipping to your rear end to pull your hips flush against his, “Some are for my queen.” Cheeks heating in a blush, you swatted his chest and turned your face back to the ginormous pile of presents in the corner of your living room. There were quite a few big boxes and something that reminded you suspiciously of a rocking horse.

“Demetri. You know we don’t need all of this right?” you turned back to look at him, hands sliding up his chest to his neck. His hair was always so soft and you loved nothing more than to play with it on the evenings. He purred softly, leaning into your touch with a hum of approval.

“Is it so bad I wish to spoil you both?” he murmured, eyes closed as you twisted the hair at the nape of his neck around your fingers. Leaning up on your tiptoes, you pressed your mouth to the corner of his in a teasing kiss. Demetri immediately turned, trying to seek more from you, but you pushed him back with a soft sigh.

“You’re too much you know that? If you really want to spoil me, a nice cup of tea for when I come down to snuggle with you will be enough.” You smiled. Demetri’s eyes rolled but he nodded.

“Of course. This is the first of many Christmases like this you know, I have every intention of spoiling you both for the rest of eternity…that and, well…nothing I bought seemed good enough.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. You tilted your head.

“Demetri you know us better than anyone, I’m sure whatever you’ve bought is going to be perfect.” You promised, taking one last look at the giant present pile with a fond shake of your head before going in hunt of your cosy pyjamas. You really regretted saying that to him come Christmas day however, when you had wrapping paper littering your floor and a pile of presents you had no clue how to find homes for. The best perfumes and the clothing brands’ you would never have asked for all needed a place in your walk-in wardrobe for example, but he had already filled it with brand new designer tags when you first moved in. Lyra was surrounded by toys, looking mildly overwhelmed by the choice but utterly thrilled with all the bright colours and sounds coming from them, though her favourite so far seemed to be the simple teddy bear, one she hadn’t let go of since she had unwrapped it. Demetri was currently sat with her on the floor, Lyra resting between his legs as he helped her unwrap a present from Felix.

“Can you guess what it might be?” he asked her. Lyra was frowning, the deep concentration it took to tear at the paper with her fists evident on her face. Demetri stepped in to unstick a bit of sellotape that was making it tricky for her, his free hand gently smoothing over her hair as they worked on the present together. It was a heart-warming sight, one that only made you more confident in your gift to him.

“Dabaga.” She sounded so cross with the resistant bit of paper you both laughed, unable to help yourselves.

“I know princess, how mean of Uncle Felix to wrap it so tightly. Shall I help you do the rest?” he questioned. Lyra made another angry, garbled noise, smacking her fists on the paper in frustration. Demetri chuckled. “Alright alright, here.” He soothed, deftly unwrapping the bright pink paper from around the box Felix had put his present in. Lyra was able to lift the lid herself, looking pleased with her small victory before she tipped the box onto its side, its contents spilling into her lap. Her head snapped up to Demetri, eyes wide as she pointed at it.

“Gar!”

His face feigned shock as he nodded along, watching her pick up and inspect the small toy. There were no tags of any description or branding on the side, and you had a feeling that the pull along ducks had been made by the giant man by hand.

“They are ducks, princess,” Demetri pointed them out one by one, “A little family just like ours, a Mommy duck and a baby duck.” You noticed he pointedly left out a label for the larger duck and decided that was the perfect moment to interrupt the dynamic duo. You searched through the torn-up paper to find the small bag you had prepped for Demetri, crawling over to hand it to him as you welcomed Lyra into your lap when she crawled for you. She held her teddy bear up to you and you subconsciously leaned down to kiss it, holding her close. Demetri read the tag, glancing up at you both with a smile.

“Merry Christmas.” You said softly. His eyebrows rose slightly, the trepidation on your face confusing him almost and making him slightly more wary to open the bag you had taped shut. You stopped Lyra wriggling, hushing her slightly as you watched him. It was impossible to deny you felt nervous, unsure how he would react to the presents inside, cheap and corny but…heart-felt. Stomach churning, you were hyper-focused on his face as he opened up the bag. Nothing inside it was wrapped but there was a layer of tissue paper to move aside. Demetri paused, carefully setting the gold, shimmering paper to his left as he examined the contents of the bag. For a moment, he looked up at you in bewilderment, as if to see if you really meant it, then his breath-hitched and he reached in to reverently take out the things inside. His socks, mug and t-shirt were all inscribed with a simple but meaningful slogan, one you hoped he would understand.

“Do you mean it my love? Truly?” he asked, voice wavering. His eyes appeared to glisten, like he wanted to cry even though he wasn’t capable of it. You on the other hand could, and a single tear slipped down your cheek.

“Yes. Please? Be our Daddy duck?” your heart clenched and you almost stopped breathing as you watched his composure completely break. Demetri huffed a laugh you were sure was supposed to really be a sob, but he carefully placed his presents down into his bag and crawled across the paper to hold you both. He bent at the waist to press a kiss to Lyra’s cheek first, then shifted upward to give you a kiss that was far hungrier, far more passionate. He captured your lips over and over until you were breathless, dizzy with desire. Pressing his forehead to yours, he squeezed your hip lightly.

“Always. I will be yours as long as you will have you me. I never thought I could have a family, that things could be like this, but this is…this is perfect.” He whispered. Through your watery eyes you could still the socks peeking over the edge of his bag, World’s Best Dad emblazoned on the sides. Lyra seemed to sense this was an emotional moment to, putting her toys down in favour of taking Demetri’s large hand and tugging for his attention. He pulled back with a slow exhale, smiling down at her.

“What is it princess? You want to open more presents?” he asked. Lyra tugged at his hand again, trying to pull it past her little body it seemed. Demetri looked confused a little bit, neither of you really understanding what you wanted till he pulled her into his lap to see. She settled into his abdomen, leaning back against him quite happily. Lyra’s eyes met your own and you could have sworn if a baby could look smug, that was how you would best describe her expression.

“Are you jealous of Daddy giving Mommy kisses? Is that it? Huh?” you asked her. Demetri grinned, red eyes sparkling. They matched the Christmas lights perfectly. He easily lifted her up in the air, nuzzling her tummy with his nose before peppering soft kisses all over her cheeks to make her giggle. You began to collect the paper up as they played together.

“I can get that done in half the time, let me.” Demetri offered. You shook your head.

“It’s alright, I don’t want to interrupt Daddy-Daughter time.” You teased. Demetri just grinned brightly, looking happier than he had been since you met him. He was watching you like you had given him the world and more, and maybe you had in some respects, since Lyra was the world to you. His new title far outweighed any ranking he had gotten in the Guard and somehow, you had managed to ensure Lyra spent her first Christmas with her Daddy after all. He settled back against the edge of the sofa, Lyra straddling his lap as they both explored her teddy bear once more, her babbling filling your ears as she showed him all the buttons and patches on it that made for interesting new textures for her to feel. Demetri nodded along, the perfect little play partner for her on the most wonderful Christmas day.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #volturi #demetri volturi #demetri volturi x female reader #christmas oneshot #felix volturi #he does woodwork #i will die on this hill #tell me the twins wouldn't get stockings from reader

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t-lostinworlds · 5 years ago

Text

The Choices We Make (Tom Holland) [2]

A/N: First off, i would like to say thank you so much for all the love and support on part 1, it truly means the world to me <3 second, i am so sorry for the long wait but here we are! thank you for your patience you kind angels! Hope you guys like this as much as the first aha! x

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tom realises what you two had and everything that he wasted. He realises he needed to fight for you and that he can’t lose you for good. But will he be able to make things right and have you back in his arms again or will it be too late?

Warnings: heart wrenching angst, a lot of crying from both persons, a bit of fluff but it’s flashbacks and typos?

Word Count: 14.4k+

Masterlist in Bio

NOTE: Flashbacks are in Italics

-:-:-:-:-

Where does Tom start?

Well, he can start with the fact that he's miserable. The fact that he's a disgusting piece of shit who deserves nothing but to be miserable, no less, maybe more.

You were so good to him, too good. You treated him more than he deserved. Even after what he did, even after he betrayed you, never did you treat him any less of man when in fact, he deserves to be treated like shit.

With a heart as kind as yours, when you showed him nothing but pure love, how could he have done what he did? A question so heavy as Tom asks himself as to why, but only ends up empty, it only ends up unanswered.

This makes him feel even more stupid. A downright disgrace given that he's ruined something so precious and special all for nothing, not even for something remotely worth it.

He could say he did it for sex, which is really rotten no matter the circumstance, doesn't make things better even by the littlest bit. But even then, it still wasn't worth it. He threw away so much just for sex? What a shallow reason to destroy such a beautiful relationship isn't it?

Quite frankly, nothing he will ever say will make things better. Not a single reason would justify the way he broke such a kind heart that gave him nothing but blissful happiness, gave him the truest forms of love.

The damage has already been done, he's already destroyed everything, hearts and trusts turned to nothing but fractured pieces.

Just how could he? How could he have done that to you?

You didn't deserve any of it.

All the times he's ignored you, made you feel unwanted. The countless times he's pushed you away and hurt you with his angry words. Hell, just the fact that he's made you feel like you weren't enough was a crime in itself.

Tom has been with you for three years, three fucking years, and during that time you had always been enough, more than enough. But that's the thing, realization and regret always comes last, always comes when it's too late.

You only realize just how much something is worth until you lose it.

It's been hours since you left, and Tom feels so utterly lost.

You we're his true north and now that you're gone, he was lost. Lost on where he'll go from here, lost on what to do, lost on who he's become.

A part of him knew he should've chased after you, but then what? He doesn't know what more he could say. He was still in deep doubt if he was fixing things or breaking it further if he continued to run his mouth. He at least needs to get his mind straight, get himself together or he'll say something that will make things even worse than it already is.

Tom sulked in bed right after everything, right after he heard that front door shut. He let himself drown in his tears and his regretful thoughts, both overwhelming him to the point that he passed out without even realizing.

Now, here he was, fully awake but still in bed. The sun was on its highest but Tom had no clue what time it was. With a broken phone, there was no way of telling unless he moves to grab a watch. But he doesn't really feel like moving. He just wants to rot in bed — or in hell as he rightfully deserves — and do absolutely nothing.

The whole house was eerily quiet and very cold, and he doesn't want to explore its state when he knows how it was coated with so much warmth before, your warmth. Was this how it felt for you when he doesn't come home? If so, then Tom feels even more of a shitty person than he already is.

But the world won't stop its course just to wait for him now won't it? So despite it all, Tom willed himself to get up and out of bed with a heavy heart, pushed himself to at least do the next right thing, whatever it may be.

Feet dragging against the tiled floor, Tom reached the living room with a broken sigh. His bloodshot eyes landed on the number of frames on top of the fireplace, photos upon photos of you and him, his frown deepening as the pain squeezed at his heart.

He walked over and took one in his hand, the one where Tom had an arm wrapped around your waist as he rests his head on your shoulder, eyes crinkling at the corners as both of you smiled wide and bright, the calming view of the Grand Canal just behind you as you explore the wondrous city of Venice.

The photo was taken by Harry during the shooting of Spider-Man: Far From Home, where you traveled with him and supported him from the first day to the very last.

It was such an innocent picture, mundane even, but so many memories came flooding inside Tom's mind with one simple look. And slowly but surely he was reminded how it used to be, how happy you both were just being together. Tom was reminded how special, how real it was, what you two had.

It doesn't even end with just the pictures, the whole house was a constant reminder too all the things he's wasted, all the beautiful things that made him feel nothing but pride and joy, utter euphoria to have such a wonderful woman in his life.

The whole house that was littered with all things you, from every room to every hall, from your precious laughter to the gorgeous sounds of pleasure that once bounced off the very same walls. Tom can still hear it, replaying inside his head loud and taunting to not let him forget each blissful memory that composed of you and him.

But now it's tainted by his blatant mistake, spoiled by his scandalous choices and he will never be able to forgive himself for that.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom wiped the tears that slipped down his cheek with the back of his hand. He brought the frame up to his shirt to rid of the droplets that coated the glass, returning it back gently, carefully in sheer fear that he'll break it if he wasn't cautious enough.

Tom knows he owes you countless amounts of apologies, and at least a proper closure. He wasn't going to let last night be the end of it all, he knows he needs to talk to you. He needs to answer whatever question you have, and tell you what he truly feels. He just knows that the demons in your head are relentless. In whatever way he can, he needs to appease your mind with nothing but honesty so that it won't eat you up from the inside out.

He won't be able to live with himself even more if he just leaves you to blame yourself for his choices. And he's not going to stop until it sticks with you that this was nowhere near your fault. This was all on him, and he has to make sure you understand that loud and clear.

So right after he's bought a new phone, he drove towards the only place he knows where you'll be.

***

"Come on guys, open up," Tom tried again, knuckles rapping at the wooden door for the tenth time.

He's been outside the twins' house for roughly fifteen minutes now, and it's either no one was home or they were ignoring him. He figured it was the latter for obvious reasons, and he was proven right when he heard rushed footsteps on the other side when he gave the door another knock.

"Go away Tom, I genuinely don't want to deal with you right now," Harry fumed, boiling anger evident in his tone, a dead giveaway that he was well aware of what had happened.

Did Tom really expect his brothers to be calm about it? No, not even by a little. If he fucks up, they're the first ones to put him back in his place. And now—well, now he fucked up very badly.

Too add to that, the boys care about you a lot. It's been such a heartwarming thing for Tom to see you grow close with them, to see them accept you as part of the family. He understands why they're angry at him and they have every right to be.

"I know she's in there. Just open up, please," Tom sighed, palm flat against the surface as he waits for the lock to click open. Harry scoffed at that, voice muffled due to the door that's still in the way. "She is, but what gave you the idea that she wants to see you?"

That stung, but Tom also can't say he was surprised. Hell, he can't even look at himself without grimacing, so he wasn't expecting any less from you. He wasn't expecting things to go smoothly at all with the weight of his actions.

"Look, I get why you're mad at me. But Harry please, I just need to talk to her," he begged, but still to no avail as his brother growled in response. "What part of 'she doesn't want to see you' do you not fucking get?"

Tom was running out of patience, especially now with his emotions all over the place as with his mind. It was crowded in his head, very loud and obnoxious, just pushing and poking until he felt his anger bubble slowly. And before he could stop himself and take a deep breath to stay calm, his voice boomed,

"Just let me in damn it!" Tom's fists hit the door harshly, his emotions overpowering him to the point where he's becoming rash with his actions. He wasn't frustrated at his brother by all means, he was frustrated at himself. After all, there was no other person to blame why everything in his life has gone to absolute shit.

"Oh go and fuck off!" Harry barked, just fuming at the fact that Tom had the audacity to show his face at his house and give him attitude.

"I'm your fucking brother!" Tom knew that was a bullshit come back but he tried it anyway, he'd try anything at this point, growing desperate with each passing second.

He just really needs to see you. He needs some sense of familiarity, someone to ground him back, someone who's going to tame his mind before he losses it completely. That someone has always been you, his sense of peace, his rock.

"Ah yes! Please do remind me Tom because that's the only thing stopping me from going out there to break your fucking teeth you asshole!" It was obvious that both brothers were now feeding off of each other's emotions, voices loud as they go back and forth, and it was only a matter of time before one explodes which well then make things take an awful turn.

"Jeez Harry, calm down for a second yeah?" Sam's voice interrupted before things start to escalate further. What Tom heard next was fairly inaudible, but he can picture the twins arguing, just hearing the exchange of muffled voices. Then a few seconds later —much to his surprise — Sam opened the door.

Tom met his brother's eyes, a breath of relief coming out of him. "Thank you Sa—"

"Don't thank me, this wasn't my decision," Sam said solemnly with a stoic look on his face, a dissatisfied tone in his voice that Tom was quick to catch. "She's waiting for you in the garden," his brother added, stepping out of the way to let Tom in. He locked with Harry's angry eyes on the way, Tom's frown deepening as he tries to say something, to basically apologise for yelling when he has no right to.

"Harry I—"

"Just fucking walk," his brother sneered, tone ice cold. All Tom could do was nod as he pressed his lips into a thin line, walking pass the twins with his head hanging low in shame. Though never did he miss — nor will he forget — Harry's death glare and Sam's disappointed gaze as he made his way towards the back door.

***

The loud bang on the front door and the yelling was what you woke u—no, the fact that the loud voice belonged to Tom was what woke you up.

You don't know how long you've been asleep for, and to be honest, you could still need a bit more.

Last night was still clear as day inside your head. Everything that had happened you remembered as detailed as it can possibly get, from you reading that text message to then running out the house and calling Harry to come pick you up. You knew fully well you weren't in the right state of mind to drive, and you were glad that he didn't mind at all.

Sam came with him, both sporting their worried looks once they pulled over and saw your state. Though they didn't ask any questions once you got inside the passenger's seat, neither pushed to give you air to breath, them only knowing that Tom did something terribly wrong by the way you were crying on the phone.

The three of you just drove around the city for a while, windows down with the music blaring to try and get your mind off of it as much as they can. Both ordered pizza and opted on eating in the car that was parked near the River Thames, looking out into the gorgeous view of the Tower Bridge as it shines its lights in the night. You talked about anything and everything but the elephant in the room—well, car.

You only poured everything out to them when you got back to their house. Full on balling on the couch as you try and form a coherent sentence on what just happened. First they were surprised, unable to believe that their brother could do such a thing. Then you saw the anger cross their features little by little, more so with Harry than Sam. You've traveled with Harry quite a lot, you were a little closer with the boy due to the time spent together, but not by much of course.

They offered you the guest room right after, said that you can stay for as long as you need to. They both were real sweethearts about it, and you owe them a lot for keeping you sane for those couple of hours. You couldn't stomach to imagine what you could've done if they weren’t there.

You thought you'd just let them handle Tom, to not come out of the room until he's gone. You have no idea what more you could say or do if you see him again face to face, especially when everything that has happened was only in a span of under twenty-four hours. You were still overwhelmed, a complete mess both physically and emotionally.

But when you heard just how angry Harry was and how Tom was close to reaching there as well, you couldn't just sit still and let the problem grow even bigger. You can't let yourself be the reason that would cause a tear in their relationship with each other. Because by the end of everything, they're still brothers no matter what.

So slowly, you got out of bed, treaded into the living room where you found Sam sat on the sofa. His leg was bouncing anxiously as he listens to his brothers argue, clearly torn on what was the right thing to do. You walked up to him with a small smile, surprise crossing his features once he saw you awake.

He quickly said that he'd try and talk to Tom and make him leave, assuming that you are uncomfortable with him around but you only shook your head no. You told him it's okay to let his older brother in and that you'll just wait in the back garden for whatever it is he wanted to talk about.

Although relunctant, Sam didn't question your decision further. He just pulled you in for a warm embrace before flashing you a reassuring smile and then walking towards the front door.

Once sat on the wooden bench that was right on the back porch, you kept your gaze steady on the greenery in front of you, back facing the house as you tried to clear your head as much as you can. Basically to organized your thoughts and emotions. The cold evening breeze was helping to calm your nerves, your eyes following the gentle sway of the trees and the soft rustle of the bushes, the hum of the wind invading your ears in the most soothing way. It was a serene sight, so comforting, and slowly you felt yourself relax.

But the moment of peace was soon cut short, your eyes screwing shut once you heard the sliding door open and then close. His footsteps were light but the sound was already deafening for you, as if the rest of the world turned mute for you can only hear his shoes hitting the pavement, just ringing in your ears as you waited in anticipation.

Tom sat down beside you with a hold of his breath, heart aching once he saw your tear-stained cheeks, once he noticed how you kept your eyes tightly closed, purely refusing to look at him for even a split second.

His fingers started to fidget as nerves started to consume him. The action was also in a way to stop himself from reaching over to take your hand, to just feel your skin on his, because oh how much he's miss it, how much he's miss you.

He wasted a month of not holding you, of not getting to truly touch you, and he so badly wanted to pull you closer to him now, to make up with the time lost. But Tom wasn't going to push his luck, not going to over step boundaries because he wasn't in the place to make such decisions, not anymore. He knows that there were so little of both left that if he gets too near, he might end up pushing you farther away. He wasn't going to risk it.

On the way here, he's thought about all the things he was going to say to you. He repeated his speech over and over inside his head even though his words were a jumbled mess. It was something at least, a start. But now that he was seating here with you just a couple inches away, Tom's mind has gone blank. With the hundreds of words he's planned on saying, his lips could only let go of one.

"Y/N..."

You could pinpoint so many things with just the simple call of your name. The guilt, the longing, the regret, even the adoration, it was all there. Having known him for a while, you have gotten good at reading him, even if it's only from his voice, from the highs and lows to the different tones. But that was before, now, you weren't so sure if you actually ever knew him at all.

"What are you doing here Tom?" you asked softly, eyes opening with a sigh but still avoiding his at all costs. Tom ran an anxious hand through his hair, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees as he kept his gaze trained on your beautiful face, smile gone and glow dimmed out, but still so beautiful in his eyes nonetheless.

With a deep breath, he spoke, "I-I came here to apologise, for everything. I know it won't do much but I'm not going stop saying how sorry I am. What I did was so fucked up and I am so sorry darling, I really am," Tom paused and waited for you to get a chance to respond. But when you kept looking forward, when you didn't even move a single muscle, he sighed before adding. "And I just need you to know that this is all on me, none of this is your fault, please keep that in mind Y/N. You did absolutely nothing wrong."

You nodded with a shaky breath, and as you gathered all the strength you could muster, slowly you turned to face him.

The look in your eyes only did nothing but sharpen the pain in Tom's chest. Your once joyful orbs were now bloodshot and full of hurt, all because of him. The more he stared into them, the guiltier he got. The weight of what he's done so evident in your gaze, reminding him of all the promises he broke, reminding him just how much he's broke you.

"Do you have feelings for her?" you asked after a few moments of silence, bottom lip trembling despite trying your best for it not to. Tom shook his head with a deep frown, "No, I don't."

He knew where this was heading. You were going to ask him the questions that's been nagging inside your brain, and Tom was going to answer each one with the truth, no second guessing, just pure honesty.

You shifted in your seat, clearing out the lump that formed in your throat before speaking. "Was she better than me in bed?" you trailed off.

Tom couldn't help but wince at the fact that you've thought about it. He felt so disgusted at himself for such an awful deed, so revolted for putting that image inside your brain.

"No. She doesn't compare to you. I'm so so late on realising this but she doesn't make me feel things the way only you can," he answered truthfully, but you looked away.

You just couldn't hold his gaze. To stare at those brown eyes you once called home, those eyes that used to make you feel safe, it's just a sharp stab at your heart knowing that those same eyes betrayed you. It took everything in your power to not break down, unable to think further about everything without bursting into endless tears, unable to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

Tom saw this, he saw it in the way you looked at him for that split second, how you just don't trust him anymore. And oh does it hurt, but what did he expect?

You picked at your fingers nails as you kept your head low, trying your hardest to hold yourself together, concealing everything in. But you were grasping onto broken pieces, your heart and mind all fractured, too fragile. The harder you try to keep them as one whole piece, the deeper the cuts you inflict on yourself.

And the picture of him with another woman, touching her in a way that he used to touch you, it feels so vile, an agonizing torture for your already broken heart, and you don't know how much more of the pain you can handle. You don't know how much more you can endure before everything finally falls apart and becomes too damaged to put back together.

But what if that was the right thing to do? What if it was needed to let everything fall apart, to loosen your grip on the broken pieces of yourself for the wounds to heal, for you to be able to start anew? Maybe all you need is for everything to break down completely so you can build them back up, stronger and better.

"She's more beautiful than me isn't she? Has a better body? More talented? She's simply just better than me?" you croaked, trying your best to keep it together. But you were almost there, almost at the point of just letting the whole thing go, to let every emotion come flooding out, the bad and the ugly.

"Fuck no," Tom protested, rubbing a palm across his face in anger, entirely directed at him for planting that thought inside your head in the very first place. He hates seeing you like this, so hurt and full of doubt for no other reason than because of what he did. Tom wanted nothing more than to take away your pain, to take it in himself. He's the one who deserves to suffer, not you, never you.

With a deep breath, Tom tried to keep his emotions steady, gaze still set on you — despite it not being returned since you kept looking forward — his voice soft as he continued, "I know my words don't have any weight for you right now but believe me when I say that you will always be the most beautiful woman I've ever met, both on the outside and the inside, from your heart, to your mind and your soul. You are a gorgeous, wonderful and amazing woman Y/N. Please don't doubt that because of the stupid mistake I did."

The moment you locked eyes with him again, Tom's breath got caught in his throat. Your eyes coated with question, utter distress and seething anger, but the pain, God the pain, Tom can feel it sharp and deep in his bones.

Tears fell from your eyes as tried your best to keep your voice steady, but you just couldn't, with the all the different emotions boiling deep inside, you just couldn't.

"Then why Tom? Why?" you sobbed, Tom's heart shattering at the agonizing sound.

He sat straighter, eyes turning glossy but it never left yours, brown orbs boring into your own. "I-I wish I could give you a good enough reason why I did it but I really don't know. All I know is that I was stupid and it was a huge mistake. I realise that now, a little too late but I did. I took what we had for granted—I took you for granted, and I will always regret it until I die."

"You're just saying the things I want to hear." You shook your head with a soft whimper, breaking his gaze as you shut your eyes, enabling more tears run down and coat your cheeks.

"No darling, look at me," Tom croaked, taking the risk as he reached over to take both your hands in his, and you let him, no flinching, you let him touch you. His heart beat rapidly against his chest as he gave it a squeeze, a silent way of asking you to look at him.

A shaky breath came out of you at the feeling of his warm skin, your tear-filled eyes meeting his own once again, seeing nothing but transparency as he spoke, "I haven't lied to you from the minute I sat here. It's hard to believe, I know. But I swear on Tessa's life I'm telling you the truth, every single word I've said."

Tom moved closer, fingers nervously fiddling with yours as he tried his best to keep his tears at bay. "I-I really do want you back. I want you to come back home, I want to hold you in my arms again but after everything I've done to you, I understand why that won't ever happen. And y-you deserve someone better, so much better than m-me," he choke back a sob, bottom lip trembling at his last sentence.

"You hurt me Tom, so bad," you whimpered, voice laced with so much agony, no more holding everything in as the strong façade you've been putting on crumbles.

To see you break down in front of him, your hands shaking in his grasp, nothing but utter pain coating the dips and valleys of your face, that was all it took for Tom to crack. His tears now streamed down his face, falling freely one after the other as his emotions came crashing through like a tidal wave.

"I-I know darling, I know and I'm s-so fucking sorry," he spluttered, feeling his throat close up as he tried to blink away the tears, to rid of his blurry vision so he can see you. He just wants to see you, cherish every second since he has no idea if there would be a next time after this.

Then delicately, Tom lifted your hand up to his lips, kissing your palm sweetly, all adoringly before he placed it flat against his warm and damp cheek, leaning into your touch with a shaky breath. "I'm so sorry angel," he whispered, voice filled with pure regret and guilt.

You remained silent, still looking into his eyes but you kept still, not knowing where you'll go from here. But then Tom lets out a nervous sigh. "And I want you to know that I—" he cut himself off as cleared out his throat, eyes staring deep into your own before he spoke with absolute sincerity,

"I love you."

Your lower lip quivered with a soft cry, eyes closing as shook your head at him. "That's the first time you've said that to me since you came back home," you said, breath unsteady as you replay those three words inside your head.

Eight letters tied together giving you an overwhelming feeling. That's what it does when you haven't heard those words escape his lips in a long time. And oh how you missed it, you missed hearing him say it, but what did it cause for you to hear it again? Too much, way too much to the point that you were unsure if the words hold the same true meaning as before, doubtful if it meant anything at all or if he just casually threw it in there for the sake of it.

Tom nodded regretfully, letting go of your hand as he went to hold your face, thumb caressing your cheek tenderly, your eyes opening at the feeling of his skin on yours. "And I wish I could've said it to you more often because I truly love you Y/N. If I could go back and change everything, I would in a heartbeat. If I could go back in time I'd tell you over and over just how much you mean to me, how important you are in my life. I'd tell you every hour of every day just how much I love you."

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom leaned forward until his forehead was now resting against yours. His proximity was intoxicating, the tips of your noses were almost brushing and you thought it would be too much, but it wasn't. You welcomed it, the feeling of being so close to him because after everything, his eyes still have the hold against you, Tom will always have a hold against you.

"I love you so much darling and I fucking hate myself for not showing you that enough, because you deserve nothing more than to know that you are loved, to feel that you are loved. And I am so sorry for failing you at both." he whispered, and with one look into his eyes, you knew he was being genuine, his voice was trembling but still, you can hear it, feel it inside you that he was being honest.

But was that enough to make you feel reassured? Was that all enough for everything to go back to the way it used to be?

No, it wasn't. It wasn't enough to let your heart win over your brain.

"I just need space to think, I'm sorry," you muttered softly as you pulled your face away from his grasp, letting out a small sniffle before crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive stance, to hold yourself in a way. Tom felt his whole chest ache, but he didn't protest. He lets you go despite not wanting to.

"No, it's okay love and I completely understand. I wasn't expecting you to just jump back in my arms when I came here. I just really needed to say all of these to you." Tom shot you a small, broken smile before he lowered his head, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

Silence hung in the air for a few hellish seconds, turning awkward, deafening with each tick. And when you didn't say another word, Tom took that as a sign, took it upon himself to draw a conclusion.

"Uhm—yeah, I-I think this is my cue to leave," he muttered under his breath and stood up from his place, giving you one last glance to see you only spare him a nod, eyes looking anywhere but at him. With a defeated sigh, he started to walk away, but before he could reach the door, your voice stopped him.

"Tom wait—"

He immediately spun around with hopeful eyes to see you on your feet, already facing him with a small frown. Tom was ready, eager to run to you, to hear the words he so desperately need, to kiss you with all that he has as you take him back. But just as how quick he built that hope up, it was slapped away in an instant when you spoke again.

"Can you pack my stuff up for me please? I-I can't—I don't think I can go back at the house," you breathed out, eyes meeting his as you shifted from one foot to the other. "Just my clothes and toiletries, you can throw the other stuff away."

Tom's heart sunk into the pit of his stomach. The thought of you unable to go back to the house, your home, it was heartrending but there was no other person to blame for that. He searched your eyes, tried to read any hesitation on your face, because he can't accept it. He can't bear to fathom the thought of getting rid of each trace of you in the house. Tom won't be able to handle it because it feels like the final nail on the coffin, after it's done then there's nothing more to go back to.

But when he saw nothing, when he saw that you do in fact mean it, that it is what you want, he forced a tight-lipped smile. "Anything you need love."

You nodded somberly, "Just leave it in the front porch and I'll get it once you're done."

No more words were said after that, Tom unable to slip in a response as you turned your back on him. And with a gloomy sigh, he pulled the door open and went back inside the house.

The moment he reached the living room, the twins both stood up from their places on the couch, both sporting worried looks as they watched their older brother walk with his head hanging low.

"Uhm, thank you for looking after her and I'm really sorry," Tom said as met his brother's eyes. The boys saw a glimpse of what happened outside, and by the look on Tom's face, they knew that their brother deeply regrets what he's done. If anything, he needs them more now, and what harm will it do when they cut him some slack? Tom was already beating himself up black and blue, he doesn't need more of it from everyone else, especially the ones he truly cares about.

Sam was the first to approach him, a sympathetic smile plastered on the lad's lips as he gave him a comforting hug, a loving pat on the back before moving out of the way. Harry came into view next, hand rubbing at the back of his neck guiltily as he said, "I'm sorry for being an asshole earlier." Tom shook his head at him with a faint smile. "It's fine Harry. I deserved it."

His brother tilted his head to the side with a sad smile, moving closer to pull Tom in for a warm embrace. "Take care of yourself," Harry muttered. Tom lets out a shaky breath as he gave his brother a squeeze.

"I'll try."

***

It was so hard packing your stuff up. The fuller your bags got, the heavier Tom's heart grew. And it took him so long to get it done because he just needed to take a breather in between, the ache in his heart overwhelming him to the point that he can't stop his tears from free flowing.

On a slightly brighter note, he does have a sweet girl to comfort him, a precious staffy who'd lay her head on his lap whenever she hears him stifle out a few tears.

Tessa was supposed to stay with his parents for a couple more days, but Tom couldn't endure being alone in the house. So, he cut her little vacation short and stopped by at their house on his way home right after you two had the talk. Tom told them what had happened, disappointed looks unavoidable but they still gave him a much needed comfort and a few heartfelt advice, and for that he was grateful.

He drove home and went straight to bed right after, tried to get some sleep but struggled to say the least. But after a few doses of alcohol and a couple more tears, exhaustion took over him eventually.

Now it was midday, the rays of the sun shining through the bedroom windows, wrapping the space with warmth but Tom wasn't mirroring the mood, the clear blue sky unable to lift his spirits up.

He was sat on the floor of your shared closet, eyes trained on the already empty shelves. He stared at it for a couple seconds before his gaze fell right beside him where your suitcase was situated, now filled and entirely full.

Tom blew out his cheeks as he reached over to zip it up, the sound unpleasant to his ears, unbearable that his eyes screwed shut to keep the tears in. His head was already pounding; he figured crying some more wasn't going to help.

After a few calming breaths, he felt something nudge at his arm, lids shooting open to see Tessa with a stuffed animal in her mouth. "What have you got there?" Tom asked sweetly as he took the toy from her grasp, heart aching once he saw what it was.

He looked back at Tessa with a small smile. She's a clever girl but Tom just knows the dog was properly confused as to why he was packing her mummy's stuff up.

It pained him to think about it, that he would have to try and explain to her why you'd be no longer around. Tessa loves you quite a lot, absolutely attached that the pup tends to look for you first each time she's back in the house, a jab at Tom's ego but he adores it nonetheless. Hell, she explored each room when they got back last night, a soft whine coming out her once she didn't find you. And now to come and reflect that you two were going to be separated all because of him, it's just an addition to the guilt that was already filling him up to the brim.

Tom pulled her close to his side lovingly, placing a soft kiss on her forehead as he whispered on her skin with every ounce of remorse,

"I'm so sorry princess."

***

As he sat on the steps of the front porch, Tom's heart and mind were running a hundred miles per second. Your packed up things were sat on his left while Tessa laid flat by his right. The sweet girl still had no clue why they were outside, just sitting and doing absolutely nothing. But Tom was in much need of some company, and she's always happy to give him that.

He'd sent you the text few minutes ago, saying that it was all done and ready to be picked up. It did cross his mind that he wasn't going to do it, that he'll just keep your stuff here so you won't be able to leave, but that's just downright cruel, selfish and disgusting, so he quickly shut the thought down. Now he was left to wait anxiously, fingers picking at the fabric of the stuffed animal that Tessa lent him earlier.

It wasn't long after when a familiar car pulled up into the driveway, his heart hammering even more at the sight of the vehicle. Tom stood from his place with a shaky breath, dread slowly seeping through his skin at the mere thought that it genuinely was happening. That you were really leaving and it wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him.

Tessa perked up when you and Harry came out of the vehicle, the pup not wasting any time as she bolted straight towards your direction. You crouched down to greet her with open arms, a small giggle escaping your lips when Tessa showered you with her kisses.

Tom's heart stuttered at the sight, a feeling of adoration spreading in his chest, but only lasting for a split second as it was quick to be replaced by one with grief. His heart felt like it was getting torn out of his chest at that thought that he might not be able to see this wholesome interaction ever again.

You walked over to the front porch with an unreadable look on your face, Tessa trailing right behind sporting a wide smile as she kept her gaze on you, tail at an all-time wag, still oblivious to what was happening.

"Hey," was all that Tom managed to get out, his heart warming a little at the sight of you, but ached the moment he noticed your puffy face, bloodshot eyes meeting his as you flashed him a faint smile. "I'm taking my car on the way back, so uhm, I think I left the keys inside," you explained, fingers nervously fiddling at the hem of your hoodie.

Tom frowned at that, but he already knew you weren't stepping inside anytime soon. You did ask him to pack your stuff up for that sole reason. To add to that, he also kind of expected that you were going to say that too, so he fished your car key from his pocket and handed it to you.

"I saw it laying on the counter so yeah," Tom trailed off, eyes still set on you as you took the key from him with a slight frown, and when he saw this he panicked. "Fuck, this looks I'm kicking you out or that I'm looking forward to you leaving and came prepared. I'm not. I figured that you would take your car too that's why I have the keys prepared, not because I want you to go, because I really don't want you to go," he rambled before he could even stop himself.

You stared at him for a full second or two, contemplating on what to say — or if you should even say anything at all — but with much thought, not wanting to say the wrong words, you opted on staying silent as you only nodded at him with a hum.

"I think this is everything," Tom cleared his throat to fill up the silence, cheeks all warm and red as he gestured towards your bags. "If I forgot something just let me know," he offered shyly.

You were about to move, to take your things and get this over and done with but before you could even do so, Tom spoke again. "And uhm, I don't know if you wanted to keep him but—" Tom revealed a very familiar stuffed panda from behind him, holding it out for you to take—or not—with a nervous smile.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the toy, frown unconsciously deepening as you took it from his hands.

It was the stuffed panda he won for you during your first date at a carnival. You remember it vividly, his grin wide and proud, eyebrows wriggling as he offered you it with a curtsy. Such a memorable night filled with hearty laughs, screams from terrifying rides, clouds of cotton candy and a handful of friendly competitions. The night then ended with him dropping you back home, and as cliché as it can be, with a sweet goodnight kiss at the front of your door, leaving you both smiling like idiots as he drove away.

After that night you had a feeling that there was something special about this boy. And months down the line, you realised you were right as he was quick to snatch your heart without much effort.

You'll always cherish that day, the simpler times as some would say, and the very panda you held in your hands now was a huge reminder of that. Was there any harm in keeping it? You're not sure. The memory does fill you up with genuine happiness, but then the pain follows soon after as you're reminded that it was once like that. The thought that the memories wouldn't be added with more, it hurts, deeply.

But as you looked at the toy again, you don't have the heart to throw it away. You don't have the strength to give it back either, so you held it closer to your chest as you looked back up to see Tom already staring at you in a certain way, a slight gloss coating his brown orbs.

That's when you knew he thought about the same thing too, remembered that same night, that same exact memory. You both held each other's gaze with such intensity, a slight hint of longing in each other's eyes. There were still so many words left unsaid, you both saw that. But neither of you spoke, neither of you dared to move a muscle.

The tension in the air only grew from there, almost turning awkward. That until Tessa nudged at your leg, making you break eye contact with the man in front of you to look at the pup with a curios yet sad smile. You were unsure if you're going to see her precious face again, and gosh it stings. She's your baby too and in no way do you want to leave her, but sometimes the right decisions requires a bit of sacrifice.

"Spend some time with her. Harry and I will take care of your stuff," Tom spoke as he gave you a reassuring smile, already knowing what's going through your head with just a simple look in your eyes.

You gave him a thankful nod, your own lips curving up and Tom felt his heart melt. It was small, didn't reach your ears by all means, but it's genuine, the warmest smile you've given him since everything that has happened.

With one last look at you, Tom took as much of the bags he can carry and made his way towards Harry, who was leaning on his car with his phone in hand. When the lad heard Tom approach, he smiled, helping him set the bags on the floor before pulling him in for a warm hug.

"You look like shit by the way," Harry joked as pulled away and went to open the boot of the car. Tom scoffed playfully at that. "Thanks bro, feel like it too."

Harry tilted his head at his older brother, hand coming up to give his shoulder a squeeze, making Tom meet his eyes. The brothers shared a smile, Harry not needing to say anything for Tom already knew what he was trying to say, that Harry is there for him, as he always is.

"How is she?" Tom asked softly, continuing the task at hand of loading your things in the car. "Still the same," Harry sighed sadly.

The older brother lowered his head with a deep exhale, just utter guilt filling him up from head to toe. His eyes were now staring at the last bag set on the ground, tears welling up again as reality starts to creep on him.

"Hey, she's a strong girl. She'll be okay. You both will be," Harry reassured and all Tom could do was nod. He wasn't sure if was going to be okay after all of this, his future blurry without you in it. But a brave face he can manage, taking in a deep breath as he placed your last a bag in the boot.

He looked back at the front porch to see you sat on the top step, both hands cupping Tessa's face as your lips moved. Tom could make out the glisten on your cheek, the light of the sun reflecting against it, chest heaving in a way that's had your hands slightly shake. He watched you pull Tessa in for a hug, your eyes screwed shut as you placed a loving kiss on top of her head, the pup giving you one big lick on the cheek once you pulled away, her way of returning the gesture.

Tom's heart took at big swing at the sight, a shaky breath coming out of him as he kept his eyes steady on his two favorite girls, bidding their goodbyes despite not wanting to, but having no choice because of the horrible things that he's done.

He caught his sniffle with a clear of his throat, quickly wiping away the tear that managed to slip with the back of his hand as you stood from your place and made your way towards them. Tessa was following you still, demeanor now different as she looked at your figure with a tilt of her head, almost with a frown.

She was definitely still a bit confused, but Tom has a feeling that she knows what was going to happen, and he will definitely have to hold onto her when you... when you leave.

"Everything ready?" you asked, voice a bit hoarse with the obvious tear lines on your cheek but neither boys said anything about it. "Yeah, good to go," Harry answered when his brother stayed quiet. Tom's eyes elsewhere just so he won't become a balling mess yet again.

"Okay, uhm thanks Tom." His head shot up at the mention of his name, flashing you a forced smile with a curt nod to match.

He tried keep at it his silence as he watched you walk to your car, just knowing his emotions would betray him the moment he opens his mouth. Plus, he genuinely doesn't want to make things harder for you again for putting more things in your head to think about. But the moment you opened the door to your car, he couldn't stop himself, he knew he needed to say something.

"Y/N wait—" Tom called out, walking closer towards you, though when you turned back around to face him, he hesitated. He contemplated if it was worth a shot, if he should at least try and ask. But when he took in your frown up to your glossy eyes, the glow and joy on your skin all faded, he inhaled a sharp breath.

"Take care of yourself," said Tom instead, not the same words that were stuck on the tip of his tongue, not the words that his brain wanted to scream into the open.

"You too," you mumbled, quickly getting inside your car, making Tom miss the expression that crossed your face. The car door slamming shut followed by the silent roar of the engine, drowned out the shaky breath you let out, eyes never meeting his again.

There was a simple question not asked. A question that could make things turn around, make this day have a better outcome, but Tom didn't dare to spit it out. He held himself back thinking that it was for the best.

He crouched down to take a strong hold of Tessa's collar as the two cars backed out of the driveway. The pups heartbreaking whines filled Tom's ears, the sound making his tears run down his cheeks, unable to keep them at bay any longer.

There were still words were left unsaid, but there was nothing more he can do with them now as Tom watched your car disappear down the street, eyes steady on the vehicle until the only thing left to see was the skid marks of the tires of your car on the pavement, a reminder that you were once here but may never return again.

***

A week has passed and Tom wasn't feeling any better. If anything, his life just turned shittier with each day gone without you in it.

The house was a complete mess, more so his bedroom with all the crap that's lying around. Said crap ranging from bottles of alcohol – some empty, some half-full – the broken glasses he has yet to pick up, dirty and clean clothes mixed up on the floor, up to the random food wrappers that decorated the area.

Hell, he hasn't even taken a shower in days, that's the state he was in right now. Tom also had to ask his mum to pick Tessa up a couple days ago, given the fact that he can't even take care of himself. Plus, he didn't want to stress the poor girl with him constantly being down in the dumps and more.

Long story short, he was a broken mess, both physically and emotionally. And the light at the end of the tunnel seems too far away where Tom doesn't even believe if it's there to begin with.

But despite wanting to rot in bed for maybe another week or two, to drown in his self-pity basically, he received a few emails that were too important for him to simply shove aside.

So, an hour-long, hot shower and a fresh set of clothes later — and a few pain relievers to help with his headache — Tom made his way outside his room only to look for his computer. Once he found it just on top of the coffee table, he held it in his hands and went straight back to the bedroom.

He couldn't bear to stay outside with the sun shining all bright, especially with it accompanied with the clear blue sky. The beautiful day just makes him feel bad about everything, makes him feel worse about himself. Tom felt more comfortable staying inside the bedroom where the curtains were all closed, the space dark and gloomy to match his mood.

Plopping back down on the bed with his back resting against the headboard, he placed the computer on his lap, taking in a tired breath before turning it on. Much to his surprise, he stared right at a photo of Tessa and him, confusion filling him up at the sight of the lock screen because that wasn't what he set it as. His lock screen was of you and Tessa, not him.

Sure enough when he tilted the laptop up, there he saw your initials written on the bottom surface. A frown made its way onto his lips as he realised that he might have given you his computer instead.

You two have the same computer and the only way to tell which one was who's without seeing the contents, was by the initials on the bottom. And just as cheesy as it can get, you were the one who wrote his initials while he wrote yours. Kind of like an autograph, hence why Tom was staring right at his handwriting, as if it wasn't obvious enough that this was in fact your computer.

At the time you both thought it was just cute and silly, a simple gesture for couples in love. Never did it cross Tom's mind that day that looking at it would bring hurt. But now it does, the gesture turned into remembrance, a mere memory of what it used to be.

He was a mess when he packed your things up. It wasn't unlikely that he missed to check which computer he gave to you. But what confused him was that a week has passed yet you hadn't contacted him, nor did you ask the twins to fetch it for you if you still can't bear to see him again.

It could've been that you haven't noticed yet or could've been something else. Tom has no way of knowing as he hasn't spoken to you since. He does know you're still staying at the twins' house courtesy to Harry, but that's about it.

He was about to reach for his phone to contact said lad but he accidentally pressed on the keys, screen now showing your desktop. Tom frowned with a shaky breath, a picture of you two on the beach glaring right at him. But what caught Tom's attention more was a certain folder, the name too long that he had to click it to show the rest.

B-ideas (If by any chance you're Tom please do not open this folder you're gonna break my heart if you do bub)

That only perked his curiosity even more. And given that he's already broke your heart due to something far worse, he double-clicked it to open. What more could he lose?

Tom felt a sharp stab at his chest as he scrolled through countless amounts of photos of different kinds of cakes, certain venues, and lovely decorations.

B-ideas... Birthday ideas.

He screwed his eyes shut, hand going up to pinch the bridge in utter frustration. First it was your relationship with Tessa, even his family for that matter, and now his birthday. What else did he ruin? Well, aside from the obvious anyway. How many times will he have to be reminded about all the things that are affected due to his mistake? Not enough apparently.

You always loved to plan his birthdays for him. He adored how you always get so excited to ask him a few things or when you keep it a secret as much as possible for it to be a surprise. You've made him the happiest boy every birthday. You make him feel even more special and he was glad to have you by his side each time. But now, he's ruined it by a long shot and his birthdays will never be the same.

As he reached the bottom, Tom found another folder within the folder named: For Slideshow (Gift)

Tom dared to open it as well, the pain in his heart only magnifying at the sight of old photos and videos of you and him. There were a few from all around the world — during the whole press tour to be specific — but most of it was just here in London or right at this very home.

You always went the sentimental route when it comes to his gifts. 'You can buy anything you want now,' as you've said. And despite him telling you that he won't care where you got it from – whether it from Tesco's or whatever – as long as you're the one giving it, then he will cherish that gift with all his heart. But of course, you just had to go the extra mile by making sure it was handmade by you. Whether it's a handwritten letter, a collage, or whatever cute thing it may be, you have never failed to make him emotional with each one, a tear or two shed every birthday.

It looked like you were going for a video compilation this year judging by the name of the folder and the contents of said folder—well, what you were supposed to do but it's not happening now, is it?

It was such a trip down memory lane, just photos upon videos, mostly candid, some intentional jump-scares and a few cheesy yet funny ones sprinkled here and there. The one video that caught his eye first though was the one where it had you and him kissing on the thumbnail.

Tom recognized it right off the bat. He remembers that day clearly to this moment. It was from the set where Harry filmed Roses for Lily, where you and Tom helped with all the little things. And his assumption was proven right when he pressed play...

"And that's a wrap everyone!" Cheers erupted around the field followed by applause as Sam and Sophie took a playful bow.

"Connect it to the speaker and play it on my cue," Tom whispered against Harry's ear, confusion crossing the younger lad's face before Tom jerked his head towards you. Harry shook his head at his brother but took his phone anyway, getting so used to his cheesy ass antics.

This wasn't your greatest week regarding work and school, even more so today. So, Tom thought head lift your spirits up in the cheesiest yet sweet way he can managed.

You were talking with Nikki when Tom suddenly came up to the both of you with an expression that you didn't quite read, hands behind his back as he stood with immense posture.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Oh no, what are you up to?" you asked suspiciously.

"Will you do me the honour of granting me this dance mi lady?" Tom offered his hand with a curtsy, voice sporting the most posh accent he can muster with a cheeky smile plastered on those pink lips.

You shook your head with laughter at your boy. You turned to look at the woman who you were having a conversation with, only to see her give you two thumbs up with a wide smile, and with that, your gaze landed back on Tom sporting a smile of your own.

"Pleasure is all mine kind sir." You mimicked his accent and took his hand, fits of giggles coming out of you as Tom dragged you towards the front of the bench, the view of the field endless behind you.

He interlaced his fingers with yours as his other hand took home on your waist while yours rested on his shoulder, just like a proper ballroom dance. "We don't even have music you dork," you pointed out the obvious, to which Tom only grinned all proud.

"Says who?" He shot Harry a nod and not long after the soft tune of 'The Way You Look Tonight' by Frank Sinatra filled your ears.

You threw your head back as you let out a loud yet hearty laugh. "You're a huge cheese ball aren't you?" you teased.

"Oh please, you love it," Tom flashed you a knowing smirk as he then starts to swing to the tempo of the music. He guided you with gently care as he spins you out and then pulls you back in again, his background in dancing making it easy for him to lead the dance.

And you always admire this talent of his, adored it with all your heart as you break out to random dances – may it be silly or slow – around the house whenever to whatever music. It was not new to you so you can easily follow his rhythm having dance with him before. Plus, the steps were simple enough for you to catch. And having known each other for a long while, it was easy for the two of you to move in sync.

But then he started to sing, and that caught you off guard.

"Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm; and your cheeks so soft; there is nothing for me but to love you; and the way you look tonight."

You can't stop your grin from growing at his sweet voice, heart warm as you stared right into those beautiful brown orbs. Tom doesn't sing much often, not seriously anyway. But when he does, it makes your heart melt ten times over and then some, because the boy can definitely sing.

"Am I wooing you darling?" Tom cooed with a wriggle of his eyebrows, earning yet another laugh from you. And with him being all cheeky with his timing, you didn't get to respond as he continued to sing,

"And that laugh that wrinkles your nose; Touches my foolish heart," Tom sang with a cheeky wink, the smile on your lips ever growing that your cheeks we're starting to hurt, but you could care less.

"Lovely, never, never change; keep that breathless charm; won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you; just the way you look tonight,"

He kept singing, not for but to you, dedicating each word, meaning each note that the smile on your lips was impossible to wipe off. Not to mention the simple yet lovely dance, bodies swaying sweetly to the music, it was just like a scene from a movie.

Tom twirled you around courteously, pulling you back closer to him that had both your arms resting over his shoulders. He wrapped his own arms around your form, noses delicately touching as you two mirrored each other's eyes, nothing but the look of love coating them.

And when you nudged his nose adorably, Tom chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, leaning closer until his lips captured yours in a charming kiss. A kiss so blissful that your hearts were filled with nothing but warmth, spreading from head to toe as you kept dancing to the slowly fading music.

Both of you were unaware that Harry recorded the whole thing, making the little dance, the sweet gesture as pure and raw as it can be. Just two couples in love, cherishing each other's company, adoring one another with everything that they have...

Tom lets out a strangled breath as the video stops, trembling fingers hovering over the space bar as he stared at the still of you, warmly wrapped in his arms, absolutely content, delighted and purely in love.

Next thing he knew, Tom found himself watching videos upon videos of you and him, endless clips that showed just how happy you two were, how happy you made him. Each video showed him the way you use to glow, smile bright as day while your eyes were filled with nothing but pure adoration, a blissful expression on your face and oh how stunning it looks on you. Pure happiness suited you so much and Tom took that away. He took away your shine; he snuffed out that radiance you always bring whenever you're in the room.

He only decided to stop when Tom felt his chest tighten harshly, breath turning uneven as his eyes started to burn. He was about to close the laptop, to set it aside and give himself a breather, but then he saw another one with a thumbnail that has only you in it. Despite being too emotional, despite deciding that the torture was enough, his curiosity was stronger. So, he played it...

"...right, is this recording? Yup, it is, okay."

You sat back on the chair after you adjusted the camera – which Harry kindly let you borrow – on the little desk you had in yours and Tom's shared bedroom. "It's a little too early to make a video message since your birthday is months away but I've got nothing better to do so," you trailed off, adjusting your hair before sitting up and smiling at the lens.

"To the man of my dreams, my knight in shining armour, to my handsome prince," you paused with a scrunched of your nose. "Oh gosh too cheesy. Okay, reel it back, whew, okay, Thomas, spider-boy—well, more like spider-baby..." You let out a laugh at that, shaking your head at yourself before taking in a deep breath and looking back straight at the camera.

"To the absolute love of my life, Tom, happy birthday. Oh now, where do I start? Well, I can start with how proud I am of you. The fact that you've achieved so much in so little time? I couldn't be any prouder. You're the most hardworking man I know, it's not really a surprise how you got to where you are today. But despite all the accolades, the awards you've won — and soon to win — there's always one award, well two actually that's far more important than the rest. First one is you-being-such-an-incredible-human award. You, Tom have the kindest most compassionate heart I've ever had the pleasure of seeing. I could list so many great things but then we'd be here all day, just ask me it later and I'll send it to you in post," you giggled. "But trust when I say that you are a true hero, even without the mask."

"And well, the second award, oh gosh, it's the best-boyfriend award. Forgive my cheesiness — although you do like it — but it is in fact true. You, Thomas, you make me the happiest girl ever. I—oh no here comes the water works," you joked, fanning your eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. And when you felt like you can hold it together, you continued,

"I feel so lucky to have you in my life. You've always been there for me through the good, the bad and the ugly. I don't think I could've made it pass things without you Tom and for that thank you. Thank you for sticking with me through thick and thin. For being my shoulder to cry on when I really need one, for being such a great listener and for being my rock. Thank you for helping me through the hardest times bub," you paused to take a deep breath, eyes glossy but with a proud smile on your lips nonetheless.

"...granted our relationship isn't perfect, we've had our disagreements and petty fights but I wouldn't trade it for anything else. I wouldn't trade you for the world, Tom. I am happy to be with you, so content with what we have. We've laughed together, cried together, we've grown together, and as promised, we're going to be there for each other, always." you let out a soft giggle to try and clear the lump in your throat, blinking rapidly to keep it in, though it already obvious in your eyes that you weren't going to be successful.

"And lastly... I love you so much Tom. My heart could literally exploded with just how much, and I just want you to know that whatever it takes, whatever challenge life will hurl at us, whatever happens in the future, I will always, truly, with all that I am, lov—"

"Darling? Where are you?" Tom's voiced echoed down the hallway, halting your words as you turned your head towards the door. With a sweet laugh, you look back to the camera. "You and your impeccable timing Thomas."

You quickly wiped the tears that managed to escape your eyes, making sure you don't look suspicious to not ruin the plans of surprise.

"Sweetheart?" Tom called out again.

"Bedroom babe!" you answered, taking in deep breaths before reaching for the camera. "I'll finish this later I guess. I'll see you—well in a couple seconds but future you sometime soon, love you!"

And with a blow of a kiss, you turned the camera off...

The whole bedroom turned eerily quiet as the screen turned pitch black. Almost quiet aside from the soft tap, tap, tap – the sound of Tom's tears hitting the computer keys, one after the other.

Tom stifled out a whimper as he screwed his eyes shut, hand coming up to tug at his hair in anger, sorrow, regret, hurt. You were good to him, you were everything to him and more. How could he waste that? He lost someone so rare, someone who's out of this world from beauty to heart. No one could ever replace you, nobody will ever come close to how much of an amazing person you are, how special and lucky you made him feel.

He had everything, and he threw that away.

As he tried to catch his breath, he reached for his phone, dialing the number of the only person who'd give him comfort but without all the bullshit.

"Hey Harrison, I know you’re probably still disappointed with me right now too but I just really need someone to talk to..."

***

"...and then I found this folder of hers that has all these ideas for my birthday. It even had old photos and videos of us but what struck me the most was her video message and I just—" Tom stopped to catch his breath, wiping away the tears on his face before he looked up a Harrison with a soft sob, "I ruined so much."

"You did," the lad answered bluntly, no sugar coating, no bullshitting. He wasn't going to say the words that his friend wanted to hear, if he kept doing that then how will he learn?

Tom buried his face in his hand in shame, sniffing loudly before lifting his head up again, face all puffy as he met his best friend's eyes with his bloodshot ones. "I miss her so much Haz, and I really want to fix things between us, to have her back. But I don't have a chance anymore."

Harrison frowned at that. He knows the full scope of the situation, but he doesn't recall you saying those exact words, well, as what Tom has explained to him anyway. "Did she say you don't have a chance anymore or did you just put words into her mouth?"

You didn't. You haven't told him those exact words, but your actions were an enough sign right? Tom leaned back on the couch, hand running through his hair with an exasperated sigh. "She told me to pack up her things, I think that's a clear message that it's over," he grumbled.

Harrison shook his head at his friend disapprovingly, "Tom, she has been fighting for your relationship for more than a month and you're already giving up in a week? After what you've done, I think you need to fight harder than that mate. Put more effort in, you owe at least that to her."

Tom frowned at his words, guilt growing more intense as the gears started to turn in his head. Did he really give up that easily? Could he have done so much better? If he asked you to sta—

But then the nagging voice was quick to shut down his questions. A certain reason why he feels like he can do nothing about it grew louder in his mind, said reason he felt the need to speak out loud.

"She deserves someone better than me Haz. I broke her heart and I—" Tom rubbed the nape of his neck. "I don't think I deserve another chance," he concluded in defeat.

Harrison sighed, placing a comforting hand on Tom's shoulder before he began. "Okay look, there are only two paths you can choose regarding this. Path one, you can mop around, drown in your pity party and just give up with everything like a fucking wuss. Or path two, you can get off your ass, thrive to be better, right your wrongs and be the man that she deserves. You have to fight for her if you truly want her back Tom. It's just a matter of choice," Harrison finished as he shot him a knowing look.

"I think you've been so busy telling yourself that everything is too late, but what if it's not yet? You think it's too late, but is it actually too late for her? What if she just needs more persuasion? What if she just needs a proper reassurance that you're going to make things right? For you to truly show her that you do in fact still love her? All I'm saying here Tom is that you won't know the answer to these questions unless you ask them, unless you give them a try. We don't get what we want easily, you have to work hard for it." Harrison added.

Tom stared at his best friend in pure shock and amusement given that he's never heard him sound so wise with advise before. They usually do stupid shit together, and when it comes to relationships, they both can be as equally as clueless.

But nevertheless, Tom felt like his eyes got opened, a new perspective settling in his mind and he will be forever grateful at Harrison for that.

"Fuck you're right." Tom didn't waste any more time as he got up from his place and went to go get his keys. Harrison sat there bewildered, calling out to Tom again when he saw him go towards the front door, "Where are you going?"

Tom turned to his friend with a small yet hopeful smile, the most he's felt in a while, "I'm getting her back."

***

Sam looked at his brother in complete surprise once he pulled the door open, "Tom what are yo—" the lad cut himself off once he saw Tom's face, clear in his expression who he was looking for.

"She didn't tell you," the twin muttered with a frown, his sudden change in demeanor making Tom worry. "Didn't tell me what Sam?" he asked cautiously. Tom thought he already prepared for the worst, thought that he can handle any sort of rejection, but when his brother spoke again, all the color drained out his whole body.

"Harry drove her to Heathrow thirty minutes ago."

It took a few seconds for Sam's statement to finally sink in. And when it did, Tom cursed as he quickly turned on his heel and ran, heart pounding, head spinning.

"Tom, wait!"

Sam didn't get a chance to stop him as he was already back inside his car, engine roaring as he veered into the road at top speed. He was driving dangerously, Tom was aware of that, but he can't let you step even a toe in that plane. If he does, then it will really be too late.

***

"Come on Harry, pick up, pick up, come on lad pick u—Harry! Which terminal?" Tom asked in haste, fingers drumming against the wheel impatiently.

"Huh? Terminal?"

"Bro, I beg, just tell me which terminal you dropped her off, please." Tom heard Harry sigh on the other line, his anxiousness growing with each silent second, and when his brother gave him the information, he felt the tears prick at the back of his eyes.

"Terminal 2... She's off to Abu Dhabi."

***

Tom's lungs were gasping for air, both from him running as fast as he can, and from the fear that was overwhelming him to every bone. Fear that he might not catch you on time.

The crowded airport wasn't helping his anxious state at all, his eyes quick to dart around as he tries his best to look for you. He asked around, looking like a lunatic as he shows your picture to random strangers. He even asked at the desk just to narrow where you could've gone, to make it easier to find you in this huge haystack. And when he hadn't had much luck, Tom was quick to assume that you already got pass security.

It may had been dumb, but everything he's done at this point has been dumb, what's the worst thing that could happen if he tried to get pass the guards?

But before he could even attempt and sneak his way in, a large, tall man blocked his way. "Boarding pass?"

Tom shook his head, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, mind an utter mess that it was hard for him to think straight, "I-I don't have... it's an emergency please I–"

"Sir, you're not allowed inside if you don't have a ticket," the security reprimanded, hand held up as he stops Tom's chances of slipping by. He's an idiot really, thinking that he can talk his way through, but he tried it anyway, begged in desperation just so he can find you before you get on that plane. "Please just let me through, it will be quick, I just need to—"

"Tom?"

Never had he ever turned around so quick in his life, relief washing over him once he saw you standing there, bottle of water with a receipt in hand, confusion written all over your face at the sight of him.

Tom just ran straight towards you, his burly body almost knocking you out of balance as he buried his face on the crook of your neck, arms engulfing you tightly, like he's holding onto you for dear life. Tom's whole body shaking as he balled his eyes out, a stuttering mess when he tried to speak to say the least.

"N-no, p-please don't leave me, I-I can't—I can't do this without you, p-please don't leave," Tom sobbed against your skin, his hold around you vise-like but just enough for it not to hurt. He's just downright scared to loosen his grip for you might vanish into thin air if he does.

You tried to pull him off of you but a useless effort as he is much stronger than you. And the harder you try, the firmer his grip on you becomes, muttering his protest over and over of him not wanting to let go. You sighed, "Tom, look at me, bub..."

Tom lets out a whimper at the nickname, pulling away just slightly until he was able to rest his forehead against yours, his warm tears dropping on your cheek and your heart stung at the feeling.

"Breathe for me," you whispered, cupping his face with both hands. Your thumb caressed his cheek tenderly, wiping away the tears that ran down them as much as you could. Tom did as told, attempting to steady his breathing, the warmth in your eyes helping him by a mile.

When he finally got a hold of himself, he took one deep breath before speaking. "I should've asked you before you could even leave the house, should've chased after you. I should've fought harder for you. I wanted to ask you this before you got into your car and I didn't, which was a mistake," he trailed off, clearing out his throat as he gave you a gentle squeeze.

"I should've at least tried and asked you stay. I hope it's not too late but now I'm asking, begging you to stay. I want you to stay with me, please?" Tom pleaded, ready to be on his knees but you stopped him, he didn't need to be. Your fingers traced his jaw delicately, heart aching at the sight of broken man in front of you, but you've already made a decision. It was hard sticking to it now with him here, but you just had to remind yourself that this was for your own sake. You've already thought this through and it was final.

"I—I can't," you paused as the number of your flight echoed through the speakers. You turned back to Tom with a soft whisper, "You know I can't."

"At least you could've said goodbye?" he squeaked, voice breaking at the fact that your mind was already set, and when that happens, even before your worlds got flipped upside-down, it takes so much to change it.

"I couldn't, because I know for a fact if given the time, you might actually change my mind. Hell, just seeing you right now, it's already making me doubt my decision. But I need this Tom, I need to do this for myself. I've realized that my world revolved too much around you, and I don't regret it at all but I need to find my own path, grow as my own person."

Tom nodded dejectedly, eyes shut tightly because he knows he would have to let you go in a couple minutes. He needs more time, he wants more time with you. But when he heard your flight getting called again, Tom knew there was not much he can do about it.

"But when are you coming back?" he asked, voice frail but full of dread. And Tom felt his heart shatter some more when you looked away, his frown deep and sorrowful as he muttered, "You're not planning to."

You shook your head with a close of your eyes. "No. I am... I just don't know when," and it was true. You were going away for quite some time but you have a life here in London as well. It would be too hard to stay away. But as of now, you don't think you'll be back anytime soon.

As you open your eyes to look at those brown orbs again, you knew he understood.

He always does. Tom is quick at that when it comes to you. Not needing a whole lot of words to know what you mean, one look in the eyes will suffice. Tom couldn't say much more either, so he lets his action speak for itself instead.

He pressed his lips against yours, the gesture catching you off-guard but only for a split second as you melted in his arms not long after. Tears slipped pass your eyes at the feeling, the feeling of his lips you've missed dearly, and Tom was the same. He missed how your lips fit perfectly with his, he missed how warm it feels, tender and soft.

It was a bittersweet kiss with the sense of goodbye laced in it, but it was beautiful nonetheless, special in a way as two hearts melt into one once more. Neither of you wanted to pull away. You just wanted to be stuck in the moment on repeat, destroy the buttons so that it plays on a never-ending loop. But when you heard your name through the speakers, you had no choice but to pull away.

As you stared into each other's eyes, both of you knew there was one more thing left to say, and as you did, as you spoke with nothing but sincerity, your hearts were filled with nothing but pure—

"I love you Y/N."

"And I love you Tom."

And with that he lets you go, hands going limp at his sides as he watches you gather your things and walk towards security. Before you could disappear out of sight, you spared him one last look over your shoulder, a smile written on your lips, one that was genuine, filled with adoration and... love.

It was a look that would always be burned in Tom's memory, but hopefully it won't be the last. Hopefully, with every choice made from here on out, if it's destined, then you'll find your way back to each other.

-:-:-:-:-

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tainted-wine · 4 years ago

Text

This ask is referring to this.

(This mini fic feels like it’s all over the place. Just me enjoying some half-assed worldbuilding, I guess. I had to stop it before things got too heated because I promised myself to keep this one sfw and it’s already longer than intended. Like anon suggested, this is a fantasy AU with some Spartan inspiration. I thought it would be amusing if Hawks was the only 300-style warrior, while the rest wore more accurate and convenient armor.)

----------x----------

The avian people.

A winged race known for their impish behavior and irritating ability to swoop in on unfortunate groups and settlements, spreading mischief and fleeing before they can face any consequences. The many troubles they bring has given them a sour reputation among humankind, but the sudden appearance of a lone avian on the outskirts of the country might be enough to change our perspective. Perhaps they are more than devious opportunists…

The feather moved.

You nearly tripped over your own feet when you noticed the slightest twitch of the red plume attached to the golden chain around your neck, placing a hand on the round curve of your stomach as you tried to balance yourself. Three long months—you prayed to the gods every day for both the life growing in your womb and the safety of its father.

You last saw your husband marching into battle with his head held high along with the rest of his comrades, men that scoffed at his very presence just three years ago, and probably still do, if you were to be honest. But he has earned the entire kingdom’s respect through his recent training, training that you all quickly learned wasn’t necessary.

The soldiers of this country were strong and experienced, there was no doubt about that, but they were also vastly outnumbered by the enemy forces. No matter what the proudest warrior tells you with complete confidence in their skill, numbers do matter in a battle.

The greedy kingdom that sought to rule the strong yet peaceful country you resided in was ruthless—they have taken the heads of several kingdoms’ finest warriors, and the less honorable ones surrendered and now fight under their command. Despite your spouse’s promises and reassurance, despite witnessing his amazing skills in combat firsthand, you still feared that victory was too far out of reach. It shames you to admit that you were already prepared to raise your child by your lonesome.

But then the feather moved again, this time briefly lifting off your chest before falling back down. So you weren’t seeing things.

“Miss! Please be careful!” Your maid rushed into the room when she saw you stumbling, gently holding you up. You were eternally grateful for the work she has put in caring for you and taking up some of your husband’s work. As your child grew and drained more of your energy, an extra pair of hands to take care of the house and errands was greatly appreciated.

You held onto her as you pushed through the sudden pains to reach the door. “He’s here! My necklace! They’ve returned!”

“Ah, finally! Of course they have,” she said calmly now that you weren’t in danger of falling. “I told you there was no need to worry. There are no other warriors in the world like ours,” she paused. “Well, assuming that not all avians are as gifted as your precious Keigo.”

You laughed softly. Keigo did tell you and many others that he was far from the only fighter in his homeland. Even after taking his hand in marriage, he refuses to reveal his reason for leaving his people, choosing to wander a land inhabited by humans who watched him with distrust. You have long since accepted his secretive nature.

Both of you pushed the door open and stepped outside, just in time to hear the bellow of a great horn, the sound traveling outside the city’s walls and up into the hills where your humble house stands. It wasn’t the most convenient location, but Keigo wanted to live on a higher spot, and you didn’t mind catering to his bird-like habits. Besides, waking up to soft breezes and birdsongs was much more pleasant than the bustling city.

Your maid kept a firm hold on your arm as you watched people rush through the streets and toward the gates, ready to welcome the brave men home. Your chest remained tightened. How many survivors were there? ‘It doesn’t matter,’ you selfishly thought. ‘Keigo is there. They won’t admit it, but he was the best out of all of them.’

“Don’t you even think of heading down there,” she was giving you a stern look that a mother would give a naughty child. “You’re still upholding your promise to stay close to home after falling ill so suddenly yesterday. I know you haven’t seen him in three months, but please be patient. You’ll be reunited soon.”

Your brooding may be responsible for the illness and pains that have been striking you more frequently, but frankly, if you were to ever collapse, you’d be more worried about the older woman’s heart than your own wellbeing. “Rest easy, I’m not going anywhere,” you promised her. “Besides, I’m quite certain that he’ll be coming to me very soon.”

“What? What do you mean? They need to answer to the king before they return to their families.”

“Yes, that’s what they’re expected to do...” You trailed off. There was an odd feeling in your gut, and it wasn’t the baby. It looked like everyone in the city has gathered in one giant mass, waiting for their heroes.

And then you saw him.

The gate was slowly opening, but something, someone has launched into the air and over the walls, and your heart lifted just as high. A man with a magnificent pair of crimson wings soared over each and every structure, heading up to the hills.

“Wh-H-He can’t do that! He’s ignoring the royal family’s wishes!” The poor maid was in a panic, but you were too stunned, too elated at the sight of your lover getting closer at an impossible speed.

The people of this kingdom have little exposure to non-human races. The simple sight of him dashing over the city and gracefully landing in front of you never failed to bring stars to your eyes.

Keigo Takami was already removing his bronze helmet as he approached, shaking out his head of tousled blond locks. You weren’t expecting him to look so presentable upon his return—it looked as if he had time for a decent bath before his final march home.

His bare chest looked mostly unscathed, only a few cuts and small traces of bruises littering his skin. The warriors detested his refusal to wear his chest plate; he claimed that it would only weigh him down during flight. He also rejected their weapons and relied on his own feathers to serve as his spears and swords. They did decide to let him go without a cloak, his wings working well enough as a replacement. The armor on his shins was also added weight, but not enough for him to complain about to the exasperated warriors. He told you himself that the only reason he wears the helmet that obscures his sharp vision, is because he admittedly likes the red crest.

But the one piece of equipment that the small army did not allow Keigo to reject, no matter how many times he whined about its size and weight, was the shield. The shield is his promise to protect not only himself, but the entire line of his fellow comrades in the heat of battle. So he held his tongue and carried the huge monster of bronze and leather, complete with a unique design of a hawk with its wings flared out like a rising phoenix.

You broke free of the maid’s grasp and rushed over to throw your arms around your beloved wanderer-turned-hero. He dropped his shield and helmet onto the soft earth (you can already hear his comrades screaming in horror) to hug you back gently, mindful of your belly that has grown so much during his time away. You took it all in—his warmth, his scent, the feeling of safety as his wings close around you—how badly you have missed his presence over the months hits you full force when he pulls back to bring you in for a kiss.

Amidst the heat and passion, you can hear the maid’s fumbled words as she excuses herself to head down to the city and welcome the others. You part from him before he steals the last of your breath, gazing into those friendly and playful golden orbs. You wondered how much deadlier those eyes looked when driving his red blades into any unfortunate opponents. His roughened, calloused fingers traced the lone feather hanging on your neck while you caressed his face.

His smooth and silky voice embraced both your ears and heart. “My beautiful bird.”

You never did come up with an affectionate little name for your foreign husband. “Keigo.”

He chuckled. “I hope you weren’t having any doubts while I was gone. No army in the world is going to keep me away from my mate for life.”

Mate. His choice of words was rather…barbarous sometimes. It took some time to adapt to your bed being the nest, or his excited talks of raising his very own flock. “You know that I can’t help but worry.”

“I know you’re strong, love, but don’t let your worry get to our chick,” he reminded you as his wings twitched. There was a serious shift in his face before he knelt down, touching your belly softly as his feathers shook.

Fear began to grip you. “Keigo? Is something wrong with the baby?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, taking another minute to listen carefully before looking up at you with a heartfelt smile. “Babies, love.”

Your eyes narrow…then widen in disbelief. “Twins?”

He nodded along with his flapping wings. “Two tiny hearts...I can feel them. These wings are never wrong.”

You didn’t know it was possible to feel even more joy, but you find yourself pulling him back up for another kiss. Two children to raise with your lover who returned from a war against a seemingly endless army. What did you do to please the gods and receive such a blessing?

“You know,” you said against his lips. “You should be on your way to the castle. The king-”

“Can wait,” he interrupted before attacking your lips with more quick pecks. “I appreciate how much this place has tolerated me. Despite how annoyed you all were the moment I arrived, no one ever forced me out, and I am truly grateful. But don’t think this ‘no good avian’ is going to become some all-noble knight just because he fought a million men to protect his home. I’m just showing my gratitude.”

You laughed into his face. “You really don’t want your reputation as a freeloading trickster to change? The royal family might have an incredible reward for you. For us.”

“Hmm, and what could they have in store for me? Free poultry for as long as I live?”

“Keigo,” you shook your head lightly, trying not to interrupt his lips.

“Too demanding? How about a discount on every purchase for as long as I live? Doesn’t that sound great?” He rubbed your stomach as his kisses trailed down to your jaw. “Don’t you want our chicks to have all the meat they deserve? So that they can grow into powerful birds of prey just like their father?”

His mouth reached your neck, and things were getting more heated than anticipated when his hot mouth closed over the flesh above your pulse. “Ah…” You gasped.

“Want to know what else I’ve been missing?” You can feel the naughty smirk curling against your throat. “I hope your stamina hasn’t lessened, little bird.”

You want to laugh at how he’s thinking about getting intimate already, but the licks against your sensitive skin are making it hard to resist. “Is your crazed lust another avian trait, or is it just you?” Your fingers tangled in his locks, urging him to keep going.

“Mmm, we’re not as anal about suppressing our urges.” A hand cups one of your tender breasts and gives it a soft squeeze. “Before you met me, did you ever expect to fuck your man so many times? Isn’t it liberating?”

The crude word spreads warmth somewhere lower. “We make love, Keigo.”

“Some nights, we do. Those louder and rougher nights, when I have you screaming through those shy hands covering your mouth? We’re fucking.”

Something was poking you down there, and that was your cue to move this indoors. “Clearly you have too much energy left from your glorious battles.” You motioned for him to pick up his gear before walking back to the house. “Now come inside.”

He grinned and licked his lips. “That’s where I always-”

“Keigo.”

#asks #hawks #i might touch this world again sometime #no promises of course

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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the one where he takes a break {finn x reader}

summary: finn is dedicated - sometimes a little too dedicated. it takes the combined forces of you, rey and poe to convince him to take a day off. (for @softdin -- i hope you enjoy!)

warnings: just language!

- jazz xx

Finn was an almost perfect human being.

Almost.

He had pretty much everything good going for him; everything you could possibly have asked for in a partner -- funny, kind, sweet, caring, bad-ass. He embodied everything that was good in the galaxy and you thanked your lucky stars everyday that your paths had crossed, and that you were lucky enough to have found him. In a world that was so full of darkness, he brought a light to your life that you never knew you needed. He could make you laugh without even trying, and pretty much everything he did, he did with you in mind. He was your partner in crime and you couldn’t even fathom the idea of life without him.

Finn’s only downfall wasn’t even a downfall, but rather a testament to how dedicated he was. Try as you might to stop him, but he spent hours upon hours fighting the good fight. His life had become a tangle of late nights and early mornings, managing to strike a balance between providing relief for former Stormtroopers like himself and training to be a Jedi with Rey. You genuinely didn’t understand how he managed to find enough time in the day to juggle everything and still find time for you -- then again, Finn had proved himself capable of doing the unexpected a million times over. He made it look completely natural and easy too.

He would normally listen to you when you told him to take a break, but it was never for more than five minutes. To you, a break was stepping back from his work for a few days and enjoying the new galaxy he’d fought so hard to create. To him, it was pausing for a few minutes to get a glass of water and maybe watch an episode of his favourite sitcom. Every time you insisted on pulling him away from his tight schedule, he’d whine about how he thrived on stress! and needed to get shit done!

You weren’t the only one that noticed it either. Rey and Poe had both voiced their concerns for Finn - but, if he wasn’t going to listen to you, he wasn’t going to listen to anyone. Convincing one of the most stubborn people you’d ever met to do something they didn’t want to do was going to be a mammoth task. But, you figured that if three of you had managed to defeat the First Order, your combined expertise on Finn and the workings of his mind could have had some sort of success rate.

“I’m just worried.”

You were sat in a cantina with the two of them, eyes solemnly eyeing your now-flat beer. Finn was supposed to be there too, but he’d pulled another late night. You knew his work was important, but you missed him; not just his presence, but the actual physical feeling of having him crammed into the little booth beside you. You didn’t realise how much you missed the gentle smell of his aftershave and the tingly warmth of his body until it was absent.

“I’m his best friend and he couldn’t even hang out with me this weekend.” Poe muttered. His lips were upturned, arms folded tightly across his chest.

“That’s not the main issue here, Poe.” Rey reminded him. “Finn is overworking himself. He needs to take a break.”

“But he won’t.” You sighed. “I’ve tried everything.”

“Not everything.” Poe said. “What’s the one thing we’re all really good at?”

You frowned. “Holochess?”

“No.” He rolled his eyes. “Scheming.”

“Do go on.”

“What if we told Finn there was an important mission somewhere?” Poe began. “Maybe somewhere he’s always wanted to visit. Then, when he gets there, you can be all sike! You have been punked!”

“Punked?” You quirked an eyebrow. “How old are you, Dameron? Fifteen?”

“You two really can’t stay on the same subject for more than five minutes, can you?” Rey muttered. “Language aside, I think that could work.”

“He’s always wanted to go to Coruscant.” You said. “Just never got the chance.”

“I can tell him we have a mission there.” Poe nodded. “Then you two can meet us there, and we can all hang out.”

“Or,” Rey held her hand out, shushing the pilot. “You take him there, give the two of them some much needed alone time for a few hours, then we all hang out in the evening?”

He furrowed his brow again. “Fine.”

You grinned. “Thank you! It has been a while since we’ve actually, properly spent time together.”

“So,” Poe glanced up from his drink. “How about tomorrow?”

Okay, so you did feel a little bit guilty.

It was hardly like you were putting Finn out his way, but you and Rey had left it down to Poe to convince him of an emergency mission - and knowing Dameron, he probably would have recounted some horribly frightening story to make his best friend agree to come. The details of which you, quite frankly, did not want to know.

You arrived on Coruscant a few hours before they were meant to arrive -- they’d taken the Falcon, so you’d snuck out in an X-Wing and docked up a little way out of the main city.

It had been a few years since you’d visited Coruscant, but it was still just as beautiful as it had always been. The cityscape stretched out for miles, skyscrapers and buildings tangling into an urban jungle; the air was filled with a sense of hurry and adventure, crowds bustling wildly and people rushing around as though time here went twice as quick as it did everywhere else. You couldn’t help but smile; after years of fighting in the Resistance, it felt like someone had finally pressed the play button on your life again (and you couldn’t wait to spend it with Finn).

Speaking of the devil, you were supposed to be meeting him on the corner of one of the busiest parks. After buying a horribly overpriced hotdog, you found a bench just by a fountain and took a seat, people watching for a moment. Hundreds and hundreds passed you by, some stopping to admire the green grass around you and others barely taking a breath as they flew off to their next destination. It made you wonder who they were, and where they were going.

Your thoughts stopped completely when your eyes landed on Finn; he was a few meters away, a holopad in his hand and BB-8 behind him. He was clearly in work mode, with hand ready on his blaster, dark eyes scanning the crowd around him for any signs of danger. Among the butterflies, it made your chest hurt a little bit. Even though the war was over, he still found it hard to completely relax. It was almost as though he didn’t trust the universe to be nice enough to let him. The only time he ever really let his guard down and truly untense was when you were both in bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms and presences under the covers of the dark.

“What did you say the suspect looked like?” He spoke into his earpiece - presumably to Poe Dameron, who had had far too much fun orchestrating the entire thing. “Black jacket, dark jeans, red boots…”

Finn spun around, freezing when his eyes landed on you. For a moment, he almost thought he was imagining it, or that you maybe had a twin you either didn’t know about or hadn’t mentioned to him. Then, he realised you were wearing a black jacket and red boots, and his look of confusion morphed into one of realisation.

“Dameron, you glorious bastard.” He muttered. Shoving the holopad in his bag, he gave you a grin and opened out his arms to you. “Fancy seeing you here.”

You met him halfway, flinging your arms around him. Finn lifted you up off the ground for a moment, arms gripping you tightly. He’d hugged you literally that morning before he’d headed out for the day, but this one felt a little different. It was tighter and warmer, as though the realisation of what you and your friends had done for him didn’t quite feel real. His brain was going at a thousand miles an hour, trying to calculate the fact that you’d all gone out of your way to surprise him.

“Hey.” You greeted him. He placed you back on the ground and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips.

“So, there’s no mission?” He grinned at you.

“Nope.” You shook your head. “We just wanted you to take the day off.”

“We?”

“Me, Rey and Poe.” You replied. “But they’re coming later. I wanted you to myself for a few hours.”

Finn smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You returned the grin. “Now, c’mon! What do you wanna do?”

He threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you began to head out of the park. He hooked his hand around your side, resting it on your hip. Even though you’d been a couple for a while, you still got butterflies whenever Finn showed you signs of affection. They were always tiny, subtle things; a hand on your thigh under the table, fingers tangled together when you slept. He always liked to feel you in some way, to know you were really and truly there. You kept one another grounded - and when you lived in a galaxy that was completely fucking whack, that was important.

The two of you walked together for a few moments, quietly chatting amongst yourselves. You were lucky that the weather was almost perfect; the sun was high in the sky, but there was still a subtle chill in the air that occasionally breezed past. There were barely any clouds in the sky either, which meant it was probably going to stay sunny for the rest of the day. That only helped further your good mood.

“I thought I saw some kind of food festival going on earlier.” Finn said. “I didn’t have time to stop, on account for the fact I thought I was on a mission.”

“It was the only way we could get you to take a damn break!” You playfully reminded him, tugging his arm. “But I do like the sound of food.”

“Then food, we shall get.” He pulled you closer into his side.

It was only a short walk away -- and once you’d left the park and headed back onto the streets, you got to see more of Coruscant’s sites. You passed the tallest building in the city; it was so big that you couldn’t even see the top, instead squinting up at a seemingly endlessly skyscraper that became one with the sun at some point. There was also many statues of important people - Jedis and rebels and pilots - and it hurt your heart a little when you spotted Leia’s. Finn sensed your bittersweet glances at the memorial, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. His connection to the Force and the empathy that came with it was never too much, and never in your face. It was shown simply through small actions, as though he had a very strong intuition.

The food festival was a few blocks over from where you’d meet. You didn’t even think it was possible for the city to get even busier and yet, the crowds here were even stronger and more wild than the ones you’d seen else-where. Finn’s grip on you tightened as you entered, tossing the door-man a few credits with a charming. You did open your mouth to protest, and insist on paying on yourself, but he gave you a look that said don’t even try it.

“What’s this stuff?”

Finn grabbed something from a random plate, shoving it in his mouth. You couldn’t blame him for being curious but you did lose a few seconds off your lifespan every time he grabbed a random sample without reading the ingredients. And, it became quickly apparent that it was something he did a lot. After forty minutes of fuck, that’s spicy and I’m not entirely sure that’s even food, you eventually took charge of which flavour palettes he went for.

“Okay, this one doesn’t look too spicy.” You examined a bit of...it might have been cheese?

“Thank you kindly.” He took a bite and paused for a second. “That’s really good.”

“Oh my days.” You murmured. “It’s made your tongue go bright blue.”

Finn stuck his tongue out, going cross eyed for a moment to examine the damage. He looked horrified for a moment, before breaking into a grin. You barely had a chance to work out what he was doing before he lurched forward, trying to grab you.

“Can you kiss it better?” He asked. “I think I might be dying.”

“Finn!” You loudly squealed, narrowly avoiding ploughing someone over as you leapt out the way. “Get off-”

“- please!” He continued to implore.

He grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up and out the way of the crowd. There was a little alleyway in between two buildings that offered cover; he dragged you into it, bodies shaking with laughter as you fell back against the wall. Both his large hands rested above your head, one working its way down from the wall and to the small of your back. He used its positioning to press you flush against his chest, capturing your lips in a breathtaking kiss.

“I love you.” Finn breathlessly murmured. “And now your tongue is blue too. We’re matching.”

“Finn!” You exclaimed. “It’s fine, because I love you too.”

“I love you more.”

“Don’t start an argument you can’t finish.” You reminded him.

He didn’t say anything - instead, he just held your gaze for a moment, brown eyes completely capturing your attention and making you forget everything else around you for a moment. The crowds, the noise, the excitement. None of it mattered when you were together, because everything he made you feel was a thousand times more overwhelming that even the busiest cities and emptiest deserts.

“C’mon.” Finn took your hand again, pulling you away from the wall.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“Let’s just walk.” He said. “And talk.”

“Mmkay.” You replied. “I like that.”

You ended up exploring lots of the city that afternoon; the financial district, the arts quarter, the Jedi museum. It would have taken days to see everything that Coruscant had to offer, but you were both content with what you had the chance to see. It was a stunning reminder that the history of the galaxy stretched back far, far longer than either you or Finn could fathom. Moreover, it made you realise how important it was, and that everything you’d spent the last few years fighting for had been beyond worth it.

By the evening, you were both pretty tuckered out. Finn, who usually had a spring in his step, was dawdling now, an ice cream in one hand and his free arm tossed over your shoulders. The bright blue of the Spring sky had begun to fade into pink, with navy tinging at the edges and reminding everyone that the day was drawing to a close. It was perfect timing too, because you weren’t too far from where Poe and Rey were waiting with the Falcon.

“Where are we even going?” Finn asked.

“You’ll see.” You flashed him a grin, trying to pull his arm and force him to walk a little faster.

In his defence, it was up a steep hill, and he’d already done what felt like a million steps that day. He hadn’t even realised til now how tired he was, because you’d both been so caught up in each other’s presences for the entire day. And, whilst this whole thing hadn’t been to try and get him to take more days off, it was certainly an idea that he’d begun to think about. He’d forgotten how good it was to just take the day off and exist just as Finn, not Finn the ex-Stormtrooper or Finn the Jedi.

The path eventually flattened, opening out onto a green hill. It was where the city ended and the forest began -- between a tangle of trees, the large grass space looked out onto the skyline. You could see for miles and miles, yellow lights illuminating the black sky and creating an outline of an urban utopia. It didn’t look all that different from the blurs of hyperspace, except if you looked close enough, you could work out single buildings and windows. Each one represented a different place and person; thousands of individual people who all lived their own lives and had their own stories to tell.

Before Finn could say anything, there was a blur of brown leather and dark curls -- Poe Dameron had made an appearance, pulling you both into a tight hug and almost forcing you onto the ground from his might. He’d only seen you both that morning, but he truly was like a Golden Retriever who had been left alone that day.

“C’mon, we’re over here!”

The pilot grabbed you by the hands, pulling you further towards the centre of the field. The Falcon was parked in the middle; the window on the top of the cockpit was open and covered with blankets and pillows. Rey was already up there, just as enchanted by everyone else at the view. Like Finn, there was still so much of the galaxy that she was too yet to explore.

Finn went up first, sticking out his hand to help you up. He pulled you into his lap as he took a seat, arms winding around your front and holding you to his chest. With his head resting on your shoulder and a blanket thrown over both of you, it was easy to get comfortable.

“A beer for you,” Rey handed you both a drink, “and one for you.”

“This view is insane.” Finn commented. “How did you find it?”

“My parents used to come here, way back when.” You explained. “It was kind of their spot.”

“That’s amazing.” He replied. “Thank you guys. I really can’t believe you did all this for me.”

“We wanted to.” Poe chimed in. “We’ve all missed you, buddy. You work way too hard.”

“It makes us all look bad.” You joked. “No, but seriously. We’re all very proud of you, but you do need to start taking proper breaks. They probably won’t all be like this but the time off is good.”

His grip on you tightened, and he gave you a light squeeze. “You’re right. I just...I know that the war is over, but keeping myself busy is all I’ve ever really known.”

“We can keep you busy.” You peered up at a him with a grin. “I can’t promise we won’t get on your nerves, though.”

Finn shook his head with a chuckle. “I know I’ve said it a thousand times today, but I love you.”

“And me!” Poe reached out to give his shoulder a whack. “And Rey, too!”

“I love you all.” He corrected himself. “You’re my family.”

#finn x reader #finn x you #finn headcanons #finn imagine #finn imagines #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars headcanons #star wars imagines #star wars fan fiction #star wars fluff

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pyrobane-fandom-space · 4 years ago

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Significant Strides in Relations

Author: Merlyn Bane

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

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

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

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

(gif found on google, not mine)

You want to fuck the Jedi.

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

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

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

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

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

"None was taken."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I want to suck his cock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he seems...surprised to see you.

That kriffing--

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

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

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

Goddammit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or at least, that is your intent.

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

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

"Good morning, Obi-Wan,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then.

Well, projection goes both ways.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He lets you.

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

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Oh, kriff.

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

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

Where you are. Definitely. Not supposed to be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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fatefulfaerie · 4 years ago

Text

Coming Home After Being Away (I’ll Be Home)

Day Seven of the 12 days of Christmas prompts orchestrated by @zelink-prompts

Incarnation: Breath of the Wild 2 a couple years post-caves

It was easy for Link and Zelda to drift off into a sound sleep when enraptured in each other’s arms. They cooed peacefully where they lay, Link’s fingers entangled in Zelda’s shoulder-length blonde hair and his other arm secure around her waist.

Zelda had turned over in her sleep so that her pillow was Link’s warm chest, a habit so common that Link subconsciously wrapped his arms around her. The rising and falling of Link’s chest was a reassurance that, after all these years of being reunited, still relaxed her.

Link was breathing. Link was alive. Link wasn’t passed out in Blatchery Plains with no discernible sign of life. Link, her love, was right here and he was alive.

And thus the couple slept soundly, even as an intruder crept into the house like a dark shadow, careful to make no creak as the mysterious figure snuck up to the loft.

In the larger bed was, of course, Link and Zelda, yet the dark, sinister figure instead focused on the two tiny cribs by the window, the small bundles of life that slept just as soundly as their parents.

With a slither, a vicious sickle was unsheathed from it’s hilt, glimmering in the moonlight. The masked figure showed no mercy as he prepared to cut the newborn’s life short, and consequently move on to his twin sister.

The baby on the right stirred and, somehow sensing the threat to his life, awoke with screaming cries.

Link woke immediately, his eyelids peeling apart with reluctance before he sat up slowly. Yet as soon as he saw the Yiga hovering over his son’s crib, Link’s eyes widened and his heart lurched with panic.

“Hey!” He exclaimed as he lunged towards the Yiga, grabbing the sword by the bed. “Get away from my son!”

The clang of the sword meeting the vicious sickle woke Zelda, and yet she stirred much more gradually.

“Link,” she asked, half-asleep as Link battled the Yiga, crossing blades as Link forced the Yiga foot soldier downstairs and away from laying a hand on his children.

Zelda opened her eyes slowly, realizing Link’s warmth was in the blankets she clutched and yet he was nowhere to be found, Zelda only seeing her own hand glide along the soft covers.

“Link?” She asked again with a creased brow, sitting up slowly and finally hearing the clamor of weaponry downstairs.

“Link!” She exclaimed as she hurried downstairs, her flowy white nightgown drifting smoothly and elegantly as she did. Link afforded a quick glance at Zelda as she neared the bottom of the stairs.

“Stay back!” He exclaimed, pushing back the Yiga before attempting a horizontal slice, but the Yiga disappeared in a puff of red smoke. Link looked around himself desperately for a reappearance when he heard the window of the loft completely shatter.

Both Link and Zelda were alerted by the troubling noise, rushing up the stairs to see no Yiga Clan member in sight and yet their daughter was nowhere to be found either.

Zelda was on the verge of a panic attack, her chest heaving as she nearly crashed into the desk behind her.

Link in contrast was on the verge of tears, fisting the hilt of his sword until it turned white. He soon realized he didn’t even have the time for his anger.

He quickly strapped on the sheath to his sword, securing the buckle and ties with fingers that moved so fast that they were messing up, but Link didn’t care to do it neatly.

Link picked up his infant son quickly and approached Zelda, whose gaze was a million miles away with panic.

“Zelda,” Link insisted. “Zelda, look at me. We don’t have time for this.”

He placed their son in her arms, Zelda not quite over her shock but holding him securely. Link placed a hand on her cheek.

“Take Elyjah and run as fast as you can to Fort Hateno,” Link said. “The soldiers there will protect you as you head to Kakariko. You will be safer there.”

Link gave her a quick peck on the lips as she nodded.

“I’ll get her back,” he said. “I promise.”

And before Zelda knew it, Link was a cloud of dust, darting out of their Hateno home in pursuit of the Yiga Clan member who meant to harm his daughter for her blood, that shared the blood of the hero and the blood of the goddess incarnate, and would surely reanimate Calamity Ganon with twice the speed.

Or worse, the Yiga Clan meant to avenge their former Master Kohga by killing the daughter of his “murderer”.

——————————————————————————————————

Link kept up his frantic run across the width of Hyrule, constantly on the Yiga’s tail at such a distance that the Yiga had only time to run with the infant. By this point, the Yiga Clan knew that crossing blades with Hyrule’s hero meant that they would likely never cross blades with anyone ever again. Over the years, they made innumerable attempts to assassinate Zelda, who carried the blood of the royal family of the former kingdom of Hyrule, or Link, who not only killed Master Kohga but, as increasing evidence suggested, was to marry Zelda and father children who also carried the blood of the royal family. Those attempts, however, failed again and again, Link being too great of a swordsman for the Yiga Clan to get anywhere near either them.

Tired of losing men and frankly at a loss, the Yiga Clan stopped. However, once spies confirmed that the former princess was indeed pregnant with twins, the Yiga Clan decided to wait until they were born. Once that occurred, and once Link and Zelda felt safe enough to let their guard down, the Yiga Clan would assassinate the infants. Only three weeks old, their lives were already in danger.

And thus Link chased the Yiga who held his daughter all the way to their hideout in Gerudo Desert. He only got to the first circular room before he was surrounded by Yiga archers, arrows drawn and ready to release.

The Yiga foot soldier handed the bundle to a blademaster who stood across the room from Link. Link quelled the jolt of fear in his heart that came from seeing his daughter held by them and instead clenched his fingers tighter around the hilt of his sword.

He moved his arm in order to ready his sword for an attack, but he only heard the creak of bending arrows.

Link took the auditory sign of threat seriously, sheathing his sword against his better judgement of his capabilities. Taking on all these Yiga was a type of chaos that would be messy, and thus too risky when his daughter was in the same room. Although Hyrule’s hero could take them on any day, creating a massacre and fighting with a sword in one hand and baby in the other arm was probably not the best idea. Link thought perhaps that was not this day, nor any day to come.

“Wait,” Link said as they were about to harm his daughter right in front of him, holding out his hands palm first. The Yiga turned their attention to him. “Hold on,” Link pleaded, as slowly and calmly as he could. “Please. Let’s just talk this out. I’ll give you anything for her safety. I’ll even give you my life.”

“We’re listening.”

“Kill me,” Link implored desparately. “Right here. Right now. I won’t put up a fight. You just have to promise to return her safely to my wife in Kakariko Village.”

“You would trust us to do that?” The blademaster asked, slightly surprised.

“You are still people,” Link reasoned, his arms lowering to hang by his sides. “I don’t see why you couldn’t be reasoned with.” Link gave a nervous chuckle. “I’m honestly depending on it.”

“Enough of this!” Another Yiga said, stepping forward. “Hylians don’t care about us! It’s a trick! He killed our Master and so many others. He saved Hyrule. I bet he’s leading us right into an ambush.”

“It’s not a trick,” Link said with shakes of his head. “It was only ever out of self-defense that I hurt your clan. Perhaps I shouldn’t have gone so far, but please let my wife and children live on. Zelda has already abdicated the throne. The kingdom of Hyrule is no more. Whatever grudge there is between us can be settled with my death at your hands.”

There was a silence that paused the conversation, a tentative silence that Link feared more and more. The chances were very slim that Link would get out of this, and yet he feared more for the tiny bundle in the enemy’s arms.

“You know not of the grudge you wish to settle,” the Yiga Blademaster said. “And yet you would give up your life to settle it. All to save your offspring.”

Link’s brow furrowed. Was this about more than just Master Kohga?

But Link was even more surprised at the Yiga’s first instance of mercy, the Blademaser walking forward slowly and gently returning the baby to Link’s arms. Link breathed a shaky sigh of relief feeling the warmth and yet did not understand the gesture. He looked up at the Blademaster.

“We know you could have taken us even with our archers at the ready,” the Blademaster said. “It is obvious you hold no ill will towards us. You only want your offspring safe and to live on past what was once the kingdom of Hyrule. Is this correct?”

Link nodded, slightly afraid of this odd behavior.

“Then go and live,” the Blademaster said, Link’s lips parted. “We will not threaten your family any longer.”

But Link didn’t move, although in the back of his mind he thought he perhaps should have, should have gotten out before they changed their mind. The Blademaster had already turned around to head back into the hub of the Yiga Clan hideout.

“I don’t understand,” Link said, the Blademaster stopping in his tracks. “After all these years, you show me mercy in return for mine, but…how does that so suddenly erase your bloodlust? And how can your grudge have nothing to do with me if…if you tried to kill Zelda and I for years?”

“We assumed you were like your ancestors,” the Blademaster answered. “That you would villianize us and see us as a threat. You swore fealty to the kingdom that ruined us. That was enough for us to seek you out. We had to protect ourselves.”

“My ancestors?” Link asked. “What are you talking about?”

Another silence fell and Link started to regret asking the question. Had he pushed too far? Would they be angered?

“There is a tale among Hyruleans,” the Blademaster started. “Of when Sheikah technology was successful in defending the kingdom from Calamity Ganon. I gather you know it well. How did the story end?”

“The princess and the hero sealed away Calamity Ganon,” Link answered. “Because of the protection of the Divine Beasts and the Guardians. The calamity didn’t return for ten thousand years.”

The Blademaster gave a small laugh.

“Easy to write a happy ending when you are the victor,” he said. “But it seems Hyrule was too cowardly to truly detail what happened in the end.”

“Was Calamity Ganon not sealed?” Link asked.

“Calamity Ganon was sealed,” the Blademaster said. “Just as you described. Because of that, Hyrule saw a great era of prosperity. Sheikah technology was blooming and the Sheikah were very proud of their usefulness.”

“One day,” he continued. “Divine Beast Vah Naboris misfired. Because it was aimed at the castle, it devastated a portion of it, and killed the Queen. The King was furious and blamed the Sheikah. He banned all Sheikah technology, ordered everything to be buried and forgotten. The Sheikah were to make do in a small village to the east, in fact, soldiers forced them there. If any Sheikah refused these orders, they were imprisoned, some even put to death. And the Hylians, your ancestors, simply let it happen. Some Sheikah, knowing these dangers and angry against the royal family for their misplaced blame and their foolishness, disbanded completely, flocking to Gerudo Desert. You see, hero, the Yiga Clan are the descendants of those Sheikah, with every generation growing to hate the royal family more and more. For ten thousand years we have been festering, threatening each new member of the Royal Family.”

The Blademaster turned around to face Link.

“It’s easy to find someone new to blame,” the Blademaster said. “It took me until now to realize that we are just like that King and that you just want to move on. I think it’s time we do too.”

The Blademaster walked forward and as he did, he took of his red and white mask, Link’s eyebrows showing his surprise.

The man was likely in his late forties, his eyes sunken with fatigue, shadowed by the mask strapped to him his entire life. Link saw the rest of the Yiga do the same, as if on his command, even the younger ones looking incredibly tired, dulled red eyes and, upon removing their hoods, heads completely shaven.

“To moving on,” Link said offering his hand forward, his baby safe in the nook of his other elbow.

“To moving on,” the Blademaster repeated, shaking Link’s hand.

——————————————————————————————————

“What’s his name again?” Paya asked, smiling down at the little baby boy.

“Elyjah,” Zelda answered, and yet she didn’t look away from the hill leading down to the Dueling Peaks stable. Paya often tried to convince her to come in for a break, but Zelda had insisted on being ready for the very moment Link arrived ever since she did.

Paya looked up from the baby she held, concern etching upon her face at the way Zelda looked desperately at the road that lead outside the village.

“He’s going to be okay,” Paya assured her. “They’ll both be back safe and sound.”

Zelda shook her head as she looked over to Paya.

“I should have gone with him,” Zelda said. “I don’t know how much longer I can—”

Zelda’s voice broke as she began to cry, her hand going to her mouth and her eyelids clasping. Paya immediately embraced her with her free arm.

“There there,” Paya said. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Why is he taking so long?” Zelda blubbered. “It’s been days. What if he’s hurt? What if…”

Her words trailed away as she sobbed into Paya’s shoulder more, the Sheikah giving a small smile.

“It’s okay,” she said in a soothing voice. “You can just cry. That’s all you have to do right now. Just stay right here with me and cry.”

And yet the baby boy took the advice instead, starting to wail himself. Zelda’s crying turned into a chuckle as she withdrew, taking her son into her own arms and soothing him with a soft finger on his cheek and tears rolling down hers. Zelda gently bobbed him until he quieted down.

“He’s hungry again,” Zelda said, looking to exterior of Kakariko once more. “Wendie must be starving.”

Paya inhaled to assure Zelda that Link could likely purchase milk on the road, but Zelda interrupted her.

“I’ll feed him inside,” Zelda said as she headed back into Kakariko, Paya nodding before following Zelda’s stride.

“He has your eyes,” Paya said. “Green, as bright as yours.”

“Yes,” Zelda said looking down with a proud smile and a slight laugh. “Wendie got Link’s blue eyes. It really has been quite the miracle. I never thought it would come to this.”

“Come to what?”

Zelda lifted her gaze to Paya.

“Let’s just say that when I was sixteen, I didn’t like my knight attendant very much. If you told me back then that we would end up married with children in a small house in Hateno, I wouldn’t have believed it. I—“

Zelda was suddenly distracted by a skirmish they were approaching in the middle of Kakariko. Upon seeing Link’s horse, she took no hesitation running forward.

Link did the same once he saw her, them surging into a deep and desperate exchange of their lips.

“I’m so glad you are okay,” Zelda whispered as she withdrew. “You were taking so long that…”

Zelda’s gaze moved downward, crying tears of joy seeing her daughter Wendie sleeping in Link’s arms.

“Oh goddesses she’s okay.”

“Of course she is,” Link said with a smile. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s rescuing princesses.”

Zelda laughed.

“Link, she’s not a princess. We talked about this.”

“True,” Link said in replied. “But she’ll always be my princess.”

#zelink #zelda #link #twelve days of christmas #coming home after being away #i'll be home #tloz #the legend of zelda #botw #breath of the wild #botw 2 #breath of the wild 2

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