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penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories · 4 years ago

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No Matter How Many Skies Have Fallen

A/N: I really have nothing to say for myself at this point.

Sequel chapter to this fic here, if you’d like to catch up.

Thank you to @caffeine-in-an-iv for being my incredible beta and to @maybege for letting me rant to you and giving me so many wonderful ideas when I hit my walls. Also to the Obi-Wan fandom in general: Y’all are some of the kindest, most supportive people I’ve ever encountered on this hell site. Thank you for your support and your content!

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Force Sensitive! Fem! Reader (no Y/N)

Word Count: 11.9K (I lost all control)

Warnings: SMUT!!! Soft Dom! Obi rights, Also, Sub! Obi vibes, Foodplay (but not how you’d think), Inappropriate use of the Force, Voice Kink, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Hands Appreciation Society, As Usual: Too Many Feelings For Porn, Emotional Competence Kink, Trust Kink, TW: Pregnancy, TW: A character draws blood on themself unknowingly

Title from one of my favorite quotes:

“Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”

-D.H. Lawrence

What infinite irreverence the galaxy has for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

As if his master and only semblance of a parent wasn’t taken from him when he needed him most.

As if a boy who needed a father wasn’t entrusted to Obi-Wan quickly following, far too young and full of his own loss.

As if he wasn’t thrust onto the pedestal of parenthood when he really only wanted to be a brother.

As if that isn’t what they became anyway, and as if that wasn’t the exact cloud that hung over the atmosphere of your lives ever since you’d arrived on Tatooine.

As if the being whose life signature resided in your abdomen didn’t throw a punch into each of those blooming bruises by its very existence.

Which is why, you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you couldn’t tell him yet.

Normally, it’d be no small feat to keep something of this scale from him. But these days, he’s so focused on having his shields up around you, keeping you from both being hurt by or helping with his torments.

You have to take great care to control your body language, because even when he’s shut off from you in the Force, his keen perceptiveness will pick up on something being off anyway.

The art of a convincing lie is having layers. If he senses your feelings and decides to dig, then only give up one layer, and he’ll stop looking.

In this case, it’s your worry over him. It is true you’re trying to shield him from feeling that, not wanting him to carry the burden of it on top of having to work through his own pain.

But it’s not everything you’re trying to hide from him. So you let a small projection of your fear over his well-being escape, like you’re losing control of your feelings. It’s enough to convince him, and something critical inside you dies at the victory every time.

He deserves your honesty, and you’ve never given him anything less until now.

You hate how well your strategic deceit takes root. Because only part is due to your talent as a liar. The rest comes from how much he trusts you.

You’re not stupid, though. You know it’s only a matter of time before the biological changes in your body betray you.

Obi-Wan said he needed time, and you’re going to give him as long as you possibly can before dropping this anvil on him, hoping the further he gets from it all, the better off he’ll be.

You could kick yourself for not being more careful. You hadn’t missed any dose of your herbal Ho’Din contraceptive. It was one of the few things you shoved in your bag with the mere minutes you had to leave Coruscant for good. It was from a reliable medicinal shop, and there’s no good reason it should have failed in any way.

But here you were anyway.

Of course, there are options that free you from the obligation of carrying the child to term. All are expensive, and Tatooine is sorely lacking in any trustworthy medical facilities. The alternative methods could put your own life in danger as well.

Even if it wasn’t, you’d feel so strange making that kind of decision without Obi-Wan. Not that he wouldn’t support whatever decision you needed to make for yourself if you did, but going behind his back is something you’re not sure his trust could recover from.

And really, far too much has been decided for him in his life.

The worst reason why you can’t bring yourself to move towards any solution that ends the pregnancy now, the reason you abhor, is because somewhere within you, despite the awfulness of the time and place, you want this baby.

You couldn’t give a definitive explanation for yourself, but you did. Undoubtedly

Obi-Wan doesn’t press when you ask to cease your combat training for a time, asking to start learning the new offerings of the Jedi texts instead.

He’s concerned when you tell him, but if he’s suspicious as for your reasoning, he doesn’t show it outwardly, at least.

The way he doesn’t even ask about why, though: It makes you wonder if he had a reason all of his own why he’d rather not fight, even in imitation.

The Jedi writings given to Obi-Wan by Master Yoda are often more cryptic and mystifying than logically applicable without deciphering, which you are at first annoyed by, but then strangely thankful for, as Obi-Wan verbally processes his understandings of it, knowing what he does of the Jedi way, and you adding your thoughts from the stance of fresh eyes.

The conversations distract wonderfully, and you savor any way you still get to connect with him.

You don’t push for the ways he doesn’t allow you to connect with him anymore. The way he won’t let you in his mind. Because now, you too have a reason to not let him in yours.

*******

When it’s time to go into town for supplies again, you make up some feeble excuse which you know Obi-Wan sees through as a lie, and this time, he does pry, eyes soft and concerned. He knows you love going to the markets. You simply explain that you’re tired, which is true enough to satisfy him, leaving you behind with a kiss on your forehead before you watch him saddle up your eopie and ride off.

You sigh, sagging against the closed door once he’s disappeared into the horizon. You do love the markets. They’re the most colorful thing the planet has to offer, textiles and rugs and shiny, hanging things.

But the spices. Fragrant and potent, usually so appetizing and intoxicating, you know would turn your stomach alone. And that doesn’t even account for the strange meats being cooked at different vendors, and Maker help you if anyone was selling raw meat of any sort today. You’ve done your best to keep your nausea at bay, at times even tapping into the Force for centering when the world felt like it was rocking. But you know the market would be too much, too many variables.

It’s not a fast journey, even on the eopie, and you don’t expect Obi-Wan to be back for hours. Which is why when you hear a knock on your door, the tool in your hand clatters to the floor, as does the remnants of your project.

You quickly grab one of the long staffs you and Obi-Wan had only begun to use in your defense training, trying to recall the lessons as adrenaline begins to rush through your veins. Tatooine isn’t known for its pleasant company, and if anyone was going to try to rob your home, now would be as good a time as any.

The knock sounds again, and you shout from the inside, “What do you want?!”

“A peace treaty in the form of baked goods,” comes the feminine voice, one you recognize.

Opening the door, you lower the weapon in your hand as Beru Lars blinks at you.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were…” You step aside, gesturing for her to come in.

She waves a hand, dismissive. “I understand.”

You lead her over to the small living area as you fix two glasses of water from the kitchen.

When you set them down on the table, Beru speaks. “I apologize for the intrusion, if there was another way of contacting you before coming here…”

“It’s absolutely fine, I’m glad to have you.” You smile in what you hope is an assuring way. “Although, I’m surprised at it just being you. Where’s Owen?”

Her eyes flick to the stone floor. “He um… doesn’t exactly know I’m here. He’s out on a business deal today.”

You feel your eyebrows go up at that, waiting for her to continue. But instead, she changes the subject. “Where’s Ben?”

“In town. We needed some things from the market.”

Awkwardness settles in as a conversation topic evades you.

She breaks the beat of quiet. “Here, I brought these for you.”

You take the basket in her hands from her, peeling back the thick woven cloth to reveal a simple form of bread. It looks so appetizing your stomach clenches, and you instantly realize you haven’t had anything since breakfast.

But then the smell hits you, hard and powerful, and stars, it’s just bread, there’s nothing that should do that about bread, but you’re on your feet in a minute, forsaking the basket on the ground as you bolt to the fresher, barely making it in time to the sonic sink before you start heaving.

In a moment, you feel soft hands at the nape of your neck, gently holding back the fabric of your shirt and blowing cool air as you continue to wretch.

By the time everything has settled again, you’ve dealt with the aftertaste in your mouth, and splashed on your face with a precious cup of cool water, hot shame rises in your cheeks at how this must seem to Beru.

You wipe at your face with a rag, half muffling your words when you address her. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure they’re absolutely delicious, It really has nothing to do…”

“How far along are you?”

Your spine straightens instantly, and you let the cloth drop to the floor.

“I… what?”

Now she’s the one to flush. “My apologies, it’s just that it’s known for being a very gentle bread, it’s one my mother used to feed me when my stomach ached. If that smell turned you... I just assumed, and I shouldn’t have.”

Your lips purse as you consider your options. It’d be easy to say nothing, or just to nod.

“Two months,” you hear your own voice answer despite yourself. You’ve never been one for easy anyway.

A surge of emotion wells up in you at even being able to speak it aloud, aloud to another human, and next thing you know, to your absolute horror, you’re crying into your hands as your shoulders crumple in on themselves.

Why now, of all times? In front of Beru Lars? Whom you know accepted Luke with her husband without question because they couldn’t biologically have any children of their own?

“I’m… so… sorry,” You manage to choke out through the sobs, disgusted at your own lack of control.

At some point Beru must join you on the floor, patting her hand soothingly on your back. “Shhh, it’ll be alright. You’ll see. It’s not so bad having a young one around, you and Ben have so much to look forw…”

“He doesn’t know.”

Her hand pausing briefly on your back is the only indication she gives of shock.

“Would he not be happy?”

You take a steadying breath in, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t know,” you whisper, small and almost frightened to let the room hear you say it.

It falls silent again, but it echoes around in your brain, bouncing against your thoughts until you feel the onset of a headache.

After you’re to a numb enough state to enjoy yourself, you and Beru make tea and bring it back to the living area.

She lifts her glass to yours, clinking them. “To secrets kept from men and the mischievous company they bring.”

Your head now throbs with pain, but you smile anyway. “Thank you,” you say to her, and you mean it so very much.

********

The next time Obi-Wan goes into town, you’re feeling well enough to go with him.

You’re not visiting the food portion of the market, after all, so you’re not as much of a risk to set your stomach off. He’s taken to fixing small machinery for trading with the Jawas recently, the extra income helping with the projects around the house.

There’s a trap door that you found within the first day of being there. The staircase carved out of the bedrock beneath the hut leads to a small room that has now served as additional storage and a place for Obi-Wan to work. It’s also quite cool during the day, so if you can stand the smell of the various meats hung to dry, you’ll sit down there with some sort of project, or even reading material if you come upon it.

So today, he’s looking for a few specific tools that will streamline his working.

It doesn’t take long to find a promising stall among the maze of shopkeepers, selling everything from trinkets to weaponry of questionable legality. Obi-Wan finds what he needs easily enough, and it looks like the trip is going to be as efficient as it is successful as you walk through alleyways with him.

At some point, he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, projecting an assuring strand of affection toward you. It’s such a small gesture, but you’ll never tire of the feeling of his hand clasped in yours.

You’re almost back to where the eopie, Rooh, as he named her, is stabled when Obi-Wan abruptly slows his pace, dropping into a stall. An alarm goes off in your head when you watch him pick up a frivolous trinket on a table that you know he has no interest in.

You open your mouth to inquire at his actions, but it answers itself once you see him glance out of his peripheral vision to where the holonews plays in the stall adjacent.

Battle footage on what you recognized to be Kashyyk at the presence of the many Wookies plays with the Emperor addressing the viewers in a very two-dimensional, sugar-coated, thinly-concealed threat to any other world that would try to resist occupation.

There’s wreckage and uncensored violence, and you turn your head away.

“May it be known that Lord Vader is quite capable and willing to help those into compliance that require assistance... “

The item in his hands crushes, ceramic tile cracking into his hands, breaking the skin and drawing out drips of red.

But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even seem to register the glass he’s pushing into his own hand. His eyes are wide and he makes a wounded noise from the back of his throat, eyes peeled to the holonews now, not even trying to feign disinterest.

His signature sparks, giving a flash and then a severe cry of anguish, and it hits you then. Pieces of information coming together as you feel Obi-Wan tear apart at seams.

Anakin Skywalker turned to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan thought him dead. There’s a new Sith Lord now; the correlation and timing can’t be coincidence.

The Toydarian male behind the stall shouts something about paying for it in full, and you quickly hand over the credits with a glare.

You start to pull Obi-Wan’s other hand off the table, but you quickly realize your mistake in that.

The moment it isn’t holding his weight anymore, his knees start to give, and you’ve only a second to react, jamming your body under his arm to keep him upright. His momentum nearly pulls you forward, but you plant your feet and remember at the last second to call on the Force to assist you.

He seems to come to himself enough to walk somewhat as you steer him to the nearest alley away from the vendors.

He braces a hand on the stone wall, but even it isn’t enough as he drops to his knees. He doesn’t even seem to have the will to stand.

Crouching beside him, you place one of your hands on his chest.

“I…. I…” The tremor in his usually so crisp wording and steady voice crushes your chest, making it hard to breathe. “I failed him. I failed him.”

“Obi-Wan,” you start, trying to grasp at anything, everything to comfort him, not even thinking of how you can’t call him that here, even if there’s no one in sight.

If he registers your call, he doesn’t let on, continuing in his whispers to the wall. “He was burning. Burning, but I couldn’t do it. It would have been mercy to kill him, it was my mandate to do it, but I could not...” his voice gives out on the last word, and his shoulders fall forward in a shuddering inhale that transforms into a cut-short sob on its exhale.

“And now…” as the words pour from him, his shields fall, and so do the floodgates on his emotions, and it takes all the training you know to not be washed away in the torrential current of his grief. Does he even know he’s doing it, or has the insurmountable weight of his burden finally overridden his innate control over them?

“I’ve sentenced him to a fate worse than death.” He’s only barely choked out the end of his thought before his shoulders start to shake in earnest and he crumples in on himself as he begins to weep for his brother.

Giving no heed to the odd angle, you throw your arms around him. Trying to get your arms around his body is exactly the embodiment of the feeling of the moment, this anguish you don’t even begin to be enough to cover.

What could you say? What could you do? What would even begin to…

When you press your fingers to his temple, it’s light, a show of how unforced this is, how much he can say no if he needs. Because this isn’t for you. No, it’d be so much easier to not know the exact depth of his pain and rip your chest open with that knowledge. But you’re offering it, meaning it absolutely, desperate for him to take the hand offered to him. “Please let me in. Don’t do this alone. Let me…”

Then he’s pulling you in, not just letting you come in yourself, clinging to you like a person drowning. You remember to steady, to try to keep your own head above the water as wave after surging, overpowering wave of soul-crippling agony like you’ve never felt it engulf you in their surge.

You can’t hold out against it no matter how hard you try, so you refocus from centering yourself to pulling his signature into yours as you wrap your arms tighter around his torso.

And you begin to weep with him.

*********

The suns are drifting low by the time both of you have any intelligible thought, far too late to start the journey back to the hut.

At the inn, as Obi-Wan falls into the beginnings of a restless sleep, a thought emerges, clear and crisp in its awful truth.

You cannot tell him for a long while still.

*******

It’s different now. Because when he wakes in the night, he doesn’t give you falsehoods you see right through. He lets you into the terror and distortional dreams that all reside over one theme.

There’s silence in the first days after. Just silent tears and still embraces and the way time seems to freeze when grief is at its worst.

But then he starts talking. It comes in little pieces, then in larger ones.

The loudest thing his signature screams is guilt.

You tell him how it isn’t his fault, how Anakin is responsible for his own choices, but he just gives you a new reason every time as to why it is his fault, how he could have stopped it.

Because even in what he considers his worst failure, his verbiage is indicative of how it’s not his own image and pride hurting that he’s even considered. All of his thoughts, all of them, are on what Anakin needed that he didn’t give.

At first, it’s just impressions from his mind, unsorted, blurry thoughts and feelings, but it eventually begins to become words.

“After his mother died… I know that he blamed me. How couldn’t he? He told me of his dreams, dreams he knew were foresights, but I dismissed them, multiple times, at that. And the council… advised me against comforting him, but he… I… I did anyway.” His shoulders are forward, body sagging with unsureness that doesn’t fit him right in the slightest. “But it was far too late. I know there was something pivotal about the death of his mother, and I am...” he hesitates, seemingly not because he doesn’t know what to speak, but because he does. “Terrified. Terrified it’s all because I didn’t validate him sooner. If I had not...” His voice breaks off, as he shuts his eyes.

Fear is not something admired by the Jedi, you know. When he speaks of his own emotions, he speaks them like he’s confessing them.

And as he confesses and confesses, you comfort where you can, cry with him when you cannot.

*****

The swells of sorrow ebb and flow in their intense bursts and receding stillness, and despite the moments of not being able to breathe under the weight of it, there are miniscule, almost violating, hysterical intervals where smiles and life spring to the surface, gasping for air.

Or in this case, the inexplicable desire to dance.

You don’t even really know when you start, simply going about cleaning clothing in the sonic washer, and the next, some ridiculous, repetitive tune sweeps you to move your hips and feet, uncoordinated and graceless. The tune itself played from a datachip, scrapped with some pieces Obi-Wan was repurposing to make repairs. You’re not even familiar with the type of music, and it’s hardly the type of music you’d normally choose, but you find that today, it’s an improvement on the quiet that falls upon the house as Obi-Wan works outdoors.

The song swings into a bridge, and you slide across the stone floor, imitating something you saw in a music holo years ago, as you do, your foot catches on the rug you recently added, sending you fumbling for your footing. You eventually catch it before you fall, but as you look up, you decide to lower yourself to the ground anyway at the sight of Obi-Wan, leaning up against the door frame, watching you with an amused expression, the fingers of one hand tracing between his lips and chin.

You sit splayed as tactless and gangly as you danced and let out a short, startled laugh.

“Please, don’t stop on my account. I was quite enjoying myself.”

Maker, could you just hide under the rug you tripped over? “Please tell me you haven’t been standing there long.”

He pushes off his lean on the wall, crossing the room to you. “I won’t tell you lies, my love.”

Shame twists in your gut at his words, chasing the laughter in your throat away. But Obi-Wan extends a hand down, and you take it, letting him draw you to your feet.

He kisses the back of your hand before taking it in his, extending the clasp out to the side of your bodies as his other hand rests hot on the small of your waist.

“But I will join you, if you don’t mind a style change.”

“I don’t know how to dance like this,” you say, factually.

“Then allow me to teach you.” When you look in his eyes, they’re lined with the etches of heartache still, but there’s something else too, brimming to the surface.

“What, to this music?” You give your last, unconvincing protest.

He simply drops his forehead to yours, and the small sounds of the room fade to white as a sweet, moving melody replaces it. It’s not perfectly clear, and it takes a moment to realize that it’s because it’s coming from Obi-Wan’s memory.

The music has a distant, foggy quality, and it has potential to be eerie, but instead, it just lifts you into an ethereal feeling.

He steps, and your feet follow, not as graceful, but he makes it easy for you, the steps hinted out in his thoughts before taking them in actuality.

When you start to feel confident enough in the movements, you look up at him. “Does this mean I can teach you my dances next?”

He laughs, laughs, unabashed and with no emotion harbored under it, and some torn piece of your heart mends at the sound.

“Certainly not.”

You laugh too, even at the thought of him trying. The laugher rolls into a smooth quiet, and you let yourself bask in the feel of his body against yours, the press of his hand on your back as you rest your cheek against him.

Obi-Wan cradles you to him, forsaking the pattern of the dance as he encompasses you in his arms, lowering his lips to your cheek, then your mouth in a blazing kiss.

He takes your hand in his, lifting it above your head. Then you’re guided into a spin, and the room spins double with it as you abandon all endeavors of trying to get the dance correct. Your hand drops protectively to your belly before you can even think better of it, and by the time you know you’re not going to throw up, it’s too late. You already feel Obi-Wan’s unmistakable concern right before he asks, “What’s wrong?” extending an arm out toward you.

His complexion is ashen with worry, and when you don’t respond, you feel him start to reach out to your mind; a spike of panic zaps down your spine, and you’re suddenly not sure you’re not going to throw up after all.

Your shields crash down, not enough time for subtlety, and he retracts both his hand and inquiring tendril of energy as hurt and confusion shape his features.

You can’t do this. You can’t keep up this facade or cover this moment with a lie you know he’ll see through. But you can’t tell him either. After all the weight he’s carrying, the weight of the being that grows in you should be yours alone. You can’t thrust that upon him.

But it’s a delusion that you can keep this from him forever. You’re going to hurt him one way or another, and the weight of your silence and lies multiply every day you insulate him from the truth.

You take in a shuddering breath as dread settles into your bones. You know what you have to do.

Even as you slowly lower your shields, opening your signature, your mind screams at you in opposite directions, ripping you in half, and your hand shoots out to the nearest wall to stabilize yourself. How could you be so sadistic to tell him this? How could you not tell him? After all the trust you have in each other?

But he doesn’t take the invitation. “I will not touch your mind if you are still unsure you want me to,” he says softly but resolutely as he approaches you, but stays an unthreatening distance away, as if approaching a frightened animal.

No, no, no. You won’t have him being the one to sturdy you through this. You need to be strong, be ready, don’t force him to coddle you through the blast to his own chest.

So you dial down your own emotions and switch your absorption to amplifying the still tiny, barely recognizable life you’ve been carefully censoring ever since you heard it yourself.

You want to close your eyes, blockade the pain of both how it impacts him and how it will impact you, but that’s not how you two do things.

Summoning every iota of bravery and resolve running in your veins, you force yourself to look up at him as you watch understanding coat him.

His eyes go wide, and his hands clench and flex at his sides in an erratic, nervous pattern.

You can’t keep your signature open to his mind’s reaction, you just can’t. He’s seen enough, and you can put your shields up again. His face is enough to confront all on its own.

Obi-Wan steps toward you, slowly, dazed in a completely uncharacteristic way. With the way he seems to ever be prepared for the blows life throws at him, you hate how you have to be the harbinger for the second one that’s knocked him off his feet.

When he stops in front of you, he places his hands on either of your shoulders and looks into your eyes, searching for confirmation, and you nod, trying to not let fear seep into your expression.

One of his hands covers his mouth as he takes it in.

And then he’s sinking in front of you, off of his feet indeed, and onto his knees. You want to follow, ready to hold him through the heartache sure to follow, at the second child he didn’t ask for while he still grieves the loss of the first.

But his hands instead take purchase on your stomach, tightening the fabric of your tunic around the barely-visible bump before bunching it up and lifting, just enough so he can tilt his forehead against the skin there.

You can feel him reaching out, not taking him long at all to find what he’s searching for, and curiosity beats self-preservation at the last moment, prompting you to open your mind again, just for you to be able to catch elation coursing through Obi-Wan.

You don’t even bother trying to stifle your confusion as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

Sinking to your knees to meet him, you take his face in your hands, trying to make sense of it all as he takes your hand in his. “I never... “ when his voice comes out unsteady, he clears his throat and tries again. “I never thought I’d have... That we could… didn’t occur to me that now...stars above, how long have you known?”

You don’t recall when you start crying, but tears are falling freely down your cheeks as you shake your head. “I’m so sorry. I… I would never want to keep something like this from you, Obi-Wan, but I couldn’t tell you, not with everything, not with all you already have…and i’m so sorry.”

“Oh, heavens, no. You should not have to do this alone. Please don’t keep things from me, even if you think it to be for my sake. We can…”

You fix him with a pointed, unamused stare. He exhales as he must notice his hypocrisy.

“Your point is well-put and taken, but the sentiment still stands. We’ll not keep secrets from each other anymore. Do we have an accord?”

Despite it all, you smile at his overly-formal phrasing, something you’d normally have a quip about if it weren’t for the concern still nagging at you.

“Are you not angry then? Or disappointed?” you watch him carefully, praying to any deity listening that he doesn’t concoct some half truth to placate you. His first instinct is always to protect, but you’d never want it at expense of his authenticity.

Bafflement marks his brow at first, then he takes your face in his hands. “Darling, no.” He says your name, gathering every bit of your attention. “I dreamt of you. During the war, when I was away. I did not sleep well, even then, but when I did, I’d sometimes dream of you, holding a child that I knew to be ours. When I woke, I would remember it so vividly, so painfully, because I never thought that was an attainable future for us.”

But that doesn’t need to matter if you… do you want this child?” His eyes are so full of hope, and it was the last thing you expected, but here he is laying it down on the altar of your preference, and maker, are you glad those two things aren’t opposing each other.

Because his hope and yours are one in the same, and once he knows it too, at your whispering, choked, “yes,” he’s clutching you in his arms.

And for the second time in a month, you’re both huddled on the ground in tears. The first, bowing under the mass of catastrophe. Now, at the glowing relief of the sprouting of a dream sown in tears, too tender before to even say aloud.

But now? You’re saying it, back and forth, from him to you as your walls fall, permitting him into your mind as he welcomes you into his, and finally you take true comfort once again in the home you’ve built in each other.

*******

The night after, you lie side by side, hand in hand, on a blanket splayed not far from the hut. The suns have sunken, but the pinks and oranges of their palette still paint the sky where it hasn’t yet turned to midnight cobalt. The light of the lantern gives off a similar hue, dousing everything in your reach in soft, warm hues.

It has taken Obi-Wan some convincing, being so out in the open with everything he had to worry about wasn’t his first choice, but you compromised for a small alcove in the rock formations which surrounded you on two sides. More easily defensible. Not that he needed it, but if he was cautious before, it was borderline unbearable now. With the added danger of the Empire knowing without doubt that he lived. With more than ever to lose.

So, he was in charge of safety, you were in charge of snacks. And if they so happened to be almost entirely comprised of those melons you couldn’t quite get enough of lately? That was no one’s business except yours. You brought a few things you knew Obi-Wan liked too, of course.

What little remains of the miscellaneous spread you push to the edge of the blanket so you can both lie down.

“I dare say it’s almost pleasant out tonight.”

You turn your head to him, a snort ready at him discussing the weather of all things, but it instead forms a cloud in your throat at the sight of him.

His eyes are closed, hair rustling in the slight evening breeze, a tranquil ease over his profile.

The small patches of grey in the part of his beard next to his ears catch the first glints of moonlight in a way the rest of his hair doesn’t, giving them away.

The mellisonant lowness of his voice brings you back to yourself, cheeks heating.

“I can feel you staring, little one.” He opens his eyes, leisurely rolling to his side. “Some say it’s quite impolite.” Slanting over you, he lifts a brow, daring your response.

“And is that a problem?” You look up at him through your eyelashes, feigning innocence.

Obi-Wan’s gaze follows back up to the stars, as he plays right along, pretending to have to think on it. “I suppose it depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not you allow me to return the impropriety,” he responds with a coy smile, moving back to you, so close now you can feel his exhales on your cheek.

Warmth blooms through you as you answer back, “You can always look, Obi-Wan.” You lift yourself to close the short distance between your face and his, pressing your lips together, which he deepens right away. Using the hand not supporting half his body off of you still, he fans out his fingers across your belly, towing the line between caressing gently and clutching protectively.

You pull your lips back from his as an uninvited slither of insecurity slips into your chest.

He senses it, of course, so you speak before he even needs to ask. “Are you really, truly, certain this is what you want? Now? I don’t want you to just say so because…and we could wait, we have...”

“I am,” he says, adamantly, before you even have a chance to finish. His eyes flash to the side. “I…” He rolls back onto his back, looking straight up as he talks seemingly half to you, half to himself. “There is not much I know for certain these days. Some days… I scarcely can remember who I am anymore.”

He turns his eyes back to you, unwavering. “There are seldom few things I haven’t questioned of late, and my love for you isn’t one of them. And from the moment I’ve known, from the very first instant you let me feel the life within you, my love for them hasn’t been one either.”

Your thoughts split into two, one wanting to lean into it, to take him for his word that’s always true, and the other cautioning you, telling you to keep distant and watch for the surface level honesty he gives that hides the brutal one he safeguards you from.

But you’re not hiding anymore, feelings unconcealed in your energy and on your face, so he leans back into you, grasping your arm in his hand, squaring your shoulders to him. You cringe at yourself when you know he’s heard the impression of you questioning. It’s redundant, but self-doubt always is. “Know, please know, my darling.” Taking your hand in his, he brings it up to his temple with an insistence that you have no desire to counter.

And it’s there. Right there and sparking in its clarity, right at the threshold of his mind as you enter it. How much he means his words, no holds barred, no cleverly crafted glazes to an unly underbelly of reality. His reality was this, how severely he craves starting a family with you. How much he already loves the being within you, how he looks forward to the day he gets to hold them in his arms.

The fear is there too, quiet, but not kept from you. The fear of failing as a father, unsure of assuming any role that resembled a mentor again, all-too-familiar with the ghost that will float over him in every lesson he teaches.

What shocks you there is his faith in you. In how much he’s already learned from you about the impact of open affection, in how you don’t let your feelings lead you, but you let them breathe, not suffocate them. It’s part of how he even can acknowledge his fears to himself and to you without berating himself under the too-simple phrase “fear leads to the dark side.” There’s truth in it, but also inaccuracy.

Because he’s afraid, and yet, there is so much light in the acknowledging of it to himself, and in that very act, it loses much of any power it could have had over him. Oh, how deeply he wishes he could have articulated that understanding to Anakin.

The pain is fresh, but so is his anticipation for the future, swirling together in a potent drink, and his throat bobs with the effort to swallow them down simultaneously.

He knows you’ll help ground him through it, he trusts you, even in his uncertainty in himself.

It breaks your heart but also warms it: the knowledge that he lets you into that place where he keeps the questions of himself, the place only you and the man who’s caused most of this doubt have been permitted.

With a thankful short farewell, you part from his mind as you know exactly what you want to do.

The remains of your snacks still rest on the edge of the blanket, including the shells of the deep purple-pigmented melons. The one draw-back to their delightful taste was how badly they stained your fingers. You had to break them into tiny pieces, plopping them into your mouth without allowing them to touch your lips unless you wanted your mouth to stain too.

But right now? The staining quality was just what you needed.

Although first you needed a blank canvas.

“May I take your tunics off?” you ask, sitting up.

Despite a short twitch of confusion and then interest, Obi-Wan follows, raising himself up into a kneel, slightly lifting his arms in compliance.

The paleness of his skin catches all the light of the lantern, highlighting your view as you slowly slide the fabric up and off, gliding your hands up the line of hair dipping below his navel as it becomes more exposed. It grants you a quiet, steep intake of breath from him and you suddenly give halt momentarily, distracted by the alluring appetite you’ve created.

No, you won’t give in. Not yet. He needs to know this.

You take one of the broken pieces of melon rind in your hand, where little tart bits of the fruit still cling, dribbling pigment, but before your finger makes contact with the taut skin of his chest, you pull back at the realization you might have bitten off more than you can chew.

How do you even begin to describe him? Obi-Wan is so many things at once, so many attributes, and every descriptor that comes to mind falls blatantly short of him.

Then you recall Obi-Wan going through the motions of Alchaka, watching his body fight to maintain the poses at times. Being such a personal practice, you felt honored that he let you see him go through the exercises, and even more honored that he opened up to you about the purpose behind it later. It was an exercise of both physicality and Force use, and the goal was absolute exhaustion. That was the destination. Trying, knowing from the start that he’ll fall short in the end, but doing it all the same. Because there’s so, so much to be said for the trying.

So you do. You bring the messy fingertip to his clavicle, smearing the first word you know to absolutely be true of him, as if starting the premise with a whisper of I know you’re even more than the sum all of these singular praises.

The word “complex” appears in your penmanship on his skin as you drag it to life. You look up to his eyes, and his curiosity is clear there, but also so is the tenderness that is elemental to any time he looks at you. And just like that, you have your next word.

Kind.

And at the way he flushes so lovely for you at that?

Beautiful.

You feel his protest before you see it, the objection in his signature, and you know you’re going to have to switch methods.

Just then, a droplet from where you’ve written the last word on his pectoral falls, down, down, threatening toward the hem of his trousers, but you’re fast, dropping your mouth down and catching it all on your tongue before it can stain the bleached beige of his remaining clothing.

When his stubborn revolt at the affirmation quiets in his mind in exchange for a flash of searing lust, you know exactly how you’re going to continue.

Because Obi-Wan Kenobi, general, warrior, negotiator, Jedi Master, legend, has rarely ever been affirmed as such, and he squirms under the thick blanket of his humility and deprivation anytime someone endeavors.

So you need his mind to be preoccupied enough, guards down low enough, so he can even hear the message get through.

When you place your hands over his waistband, locking eyes in inquiry, stopping when he hesitates, scanning the area around you, vigilant as always. Overly so now.

“We’re alone. And wouldn’t you be able to sense it if we weren’t?”

He looks down at you as he answers. “If I stay mindful enough to do so, yes.”

Good, he’ll be even less prone to fight you if he has some of his mind sensing outward.

You look back up at him with the facial equivalent of asking “well?” to which Obi-Wan sighs in response. “Very well then.”

With your familiarity with ridding him of clothing, it only takes moments before you can finally taste him where you want to, where he’s already hard and swollen for you.

You know you won’t be able to take him as much as you want, a recently-developed overactive gag reflex preventing you. But it just so happens to be convenient tonight, as the resulting taunt should have him right where you want him.

A gentle kiss, right to the head of his cock is all the warning you give him before taking the whole tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him, pulling a choked hum deep from his throat.

Oh, oh, Maker, have you done a grand miscalculation, because you forgot an entire factor in this equation: the way you have been borderline hysterical in hunger for him.

You’ve kept so much from him, and part of how you’ve even managed is starting to convince yourself of less than fact. Facts like how many times you’ve had to change underthings recently, physical evidence of desire unwilling to comply to your head’s demands. Facts like how you’ve literally had to bite your finger to keep the feelings at bay.

You’d expected changes in your body even before your belly grew, but this was one you hadn’t anticipated. In some ways, it wasn’t that different than usual. You never knew you could want someone with the breadth that you want Obi-Wan.

But this? Of late? It feels like it’s been amplified tenfold.

You’re not keeping any cards close to your chest anymore, but you do have to ignore your own body’s screaming cries as you complete this.

He needs to know.

Nerves still serenading his brain with feedback, you re-wet your finger with the purple juice and write the next words across his abdomen.

Wise.

Perceptive.

He’s caught on to your scheme by now, cued by the all-too appropriate addition of the last word, and he lets you know it, an impression projected, speechless but still unobstructed. He’s still powerless against it. Or rather, letting himself be powerless. Trusting you with the control he has left, trusting you in his vulnerable places. The places where he’s weak.

Strong.

The word spread over his right upper arm, where he’s obviously just that. But may the tint of the word bleed through his skin, may it run through his veins, because that’s how deep and deeper still that his strength runs. It’s in the way he doesn’t flaunt it. It’s in the way he chooses to wield it.

Gentle.

He closes his eyes, flinching at the onslaught of acclamation, and you dip your head down again, wrapping your lips around his cock, letting him slide to where you can take him comfortably, just starting to build a pace as his hips squirm in harmony with his suddenly erratic breaths. Oh, how you’d love to let him deeper, allow his cock past your lips beyond the teasing amount you can take now, but the little writhes his body gives in protest are enough to almost make you okay with how your mouth won’t agree with your ambitions. He says your name, groaned out in bliss as he cups a hand on your cheek.

His barriers are down, so it’s easy to hear when his deprecating thoughts quiet again, and you switch back to coloring him again.

You know the moment you look up at him that it’s a mistake, because he’s flushed, so torn, suspended in the limbo of your give and withdrawal, mouth ever so slightly open, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

You’re only human, so before you draw anything else, you bring your lips to his, which is yet another mistake, because among the many things Obi-Wan is, he is a deep kisser, and as his tongue delves into your mouth, your will power takes a devastating blow.

You pull back, reeling at the reminder of how easily he can take back control, knowing you have to complete this before you let him.

Stars, how you want to let him.

For now, you need that control back, so you take him into your mouth again, filthily wet and not nearly long enough as you quickly pull back, watching in satisfaction as he heaves forward at the loss, correcting himself quickly back into straight posture.

With a smirk, you drag your slippery, pigmented finger across his lower stomach.

Disciplined.

There’s so many more words, so much more he needs to know, and if you covered every inch of his skin in the smallest writing it still wouldn’t be sufficient of all that he is.

Or you could whisper it all through the Force, embed it all in his mind.

But because you’ve been there, know his mind inside and out, you know every time he sees his own skin, all he sees is the red of blood on his hands. The blood of his brother.

And that’s exactly why you’re going to stain it in your own colors. Take back territory and push back the front lines that the army of guilt has taken over on him.

Your Jedi, ever-adorned in unassuming beige, now drips in the color of royalty.

Charming.

Humble.

Confident.

Steadfast.

You’re only left with enough space for one more word, and you want some sort of conclusion to it all, something to summarize the expanse of the man kneeling in front of you.

Nothing can.

But maybe, just maybe, one word encapsulates what he is to you.

Treasure.

This time you do chant it across his thoughts, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you.

Cerulean blue blinks open, slowly, almost painfully and nearly overflowing with emotion.

Thank you, is all he says, unable or unwilling to say it out loud, much too heartfelt and newly-budded for that.

You know his pain has older roots than those tended to in this moment, but you vow to yourself that you’ll never stop trying.

Lowering your mouth around him once again, you don’t tease him anymore, at least not intentionally, even though you still can’t take more than half of him.

“Look at you, you’re…” he hisses in a breath as you swipe your tongue against that vein on the underside of him. “Stunning. You’re doing so well, little one.”

The taste of him compels you as much as his words, seizes you in spice-like addiction, and how interesting it’s going to be explaining that taste craving to him, among your sudden adoration for those damn melons.

“Darling, I’m…”

You feel it in his energy before he says it, already pulling off, replacing your mouth with your hand, dropping your lips down even lower, mouthing at his balls, and the feedback is instant. An outpouring crest of his pleasure blasting outward as he lets out a depraved moan, netting his hands into your hair.

Your hand is wet and so is where he’s spilled on his still flexing and releasing stomach, clear white maring the lettering halfway through “disciplined.” You’d clean it with your tongue if you weren’t sure how your overly sensitive taste buds would react now.

It’s not the first time you’ve had sex since you’ve known you were pregnant, but it’s the first time since he’s known, and it’s the first time you’re not hiding the symptoms. Before, you carefully shied away from anything that might give you away, and between the preoccupation of everything on his own mind he was trying to keep from you and his respect for your boundaries, he never pressed. He had questions in his eyes, but you knew how to carefully reveal partial vulnerabilities to keep him off your trail.

Your chest flares at the memory.

We’re not hiding now.

It’s your chant, your reminder, your comfort. How nothing of this caliber will be kept between you again.

His eyes confirm it, sincere and exact as they fight to break through their dazed slipping.

Never again. His voice in your head is home, so consoling it can and has put you to sleep before.

Right now, it wakes you up in a different light, dowsing you in heat as Obi-Wan takes your hand in his, wiping it on a piece of his discarded clothing before wiping the spend off himself.

Then he’s taking your face in both his hands tilting you up before kissing you soundly.

I love you, he says across the wire that ties your minds, the wire that keeps growing stronger every day. So, so very much.

You say it back, a fact as simple as breathing. You love him.

You want him, borderline need him the way you need your next inhale, you don’t say, but he must hear it anyway, because that cocky little smirk that’s been gone far too long is back.

“Shall we do something about that?”

You’re about to just lift your shift dress up and off in response, but he halts you, grasping your wrists.

“Allow me.”

He pulls you into another sultry kiss, completely neglecting the task of ridding you of clothing.

Or so you think.

There’s buttons all the way down the dress, and you’ve never used them, always wondering at their purpose if it can so easily lift over your head.

At first, you don’t even know he’s doing it until you start to feel the coolness of the night air on your nipples. Opening your eyes, you pull back from him to watch as seemingly in thin air, your buttons undo themselves.

“You needn’t seduce me further. You already know how much I need you,” you gasp, breathless from the kiss.

Obi-Wan just gives a small smile as he drops a hand, dragging it down your side, then down your thigh. “Hm. So impatient. All this from just pleasuring me?”

Maker, he knows! He knows that you are. You always have been, and it’s not as if you weren’t projecting your feelings too.

When he reaches a hand between your thighs, parting them and making a single, tempting stroke through them, his fingers come back glistening.

“I should think you could feel that I am.” You let the tide of your frustration spill over into your connection to his mind.

You know he had to hear you, but he gives no indication that he did.

“Mm. Desire needn’t always be indicatory of impatience,” he punctuates his statement with a hand at the base of your skull, tipping your head back to expose your neck. “I need you to be patient, little one. Let me savor you.” And with that, his mouth makes contact with your neck at the same time his other hand plays with one of your exposed nipples.

You whimper at the attention, quietly pleading with him for more. Among the still slight changes to your body, this has been the most notable one. How sensitive your breasts have become to even the scrape of the fabric of your clothing.

And with the rough pads of his fingers working only one, leaving the other to pang in want...

“Obi-Wan,” it’s a prayer, a request. He doesn’t need his hands to cause sensation, and you’d beg him right now if he asked.

He lets up on your neck, only barely, lips moving against the now throbbing skin. “Answer me first.”

Clearing your throat, you give the most cogent response you can muster. “Depends on if you’re definition of savor is synonymous with torture.”

He locks eyes with you then, gently grasping a breast in each of his hands, dragging his thumbs over the nipples as you moan out your assent.

His chuckle is far too self-satisfied to be becoming of a Jedi, but you’re already too far gone to call him on it.

“Is that what you want, little one? For me to torture you so?”

An affirmative whimper is all the response you can give, and Obi-Wan reacts quickly, taking your chin in his fingers and tilting your eyes up to his again.

“Then you will be patient for me. Because I’m always happy to stop, and we can begin again when you decide to adhere.”

Your brain short circuits on the spot, and all energy is redirected much, much lower. His voice, stars above, his voice when it takes a commanding tone.

It’s intimate, it’s personal, and yet this game is almost inappropriately playful for how sincere the moment is.

But such was being loved by Obi-Wan. Full of dissimilar feelings that shouldn’t fit, but moved together in liquid consistency. Like metaphors that didn’t rhyme but still somehow gave their own life-giving rhythm, not dissimilar to the sound of his heartbeat when you lay your head against his chest at night.

Making quick work of the remaining buttons of your shift and underwear, he beckons you to join him as he lies back down, large, warm hands guiding you to turn around so you’re facing away from him.

You know that the purple stickiness of the fruit will smear from his body to yours like this, but you can’t at all bring yourself to care.

You gasp a sigh of relief as one of his hands finds your breast, brushing a knuckle over the too-sensitive nipple.

“Please.” Your whispered beg sounds pathetic, even to your own ears. But as you arch against him in a frenzied attempt at skin contact, Obi-Wan juts his hips forward, grunting into the exposed column of your neck, and stars, yeah, maybe he didn’t find that so pathetic after all.

“What do you want, darling?” His voice doesn’t divulge any desperation, and for only the hundredth time do you envy his immaculate self-control.

“You know, don’t pretend you don’t.” Leaving any doubt to the wind, you push your chest against his barely-touching hand.

“Specificity can be a virtue; that I also know.”

You change techniques, driving your hips back softly into where he’s hard and insistent against your ass, hoping it compels him.

Then you simply… can’t anymore. You’re frozen, unable to move your lower half at all.

Tangling your desires into a knot and tucking it away, you find the mindfulness to reply. “Yeah, so is mercy.”

“Indeed it is. I shall concede when you do.”

You won’t win a battle of the wills with him. You’re not sure anyone could.

So you bring his hand over to your nipple. “Touch me here.”

You feel his smile without even seeing it as he starts tweaking the bud. “Like this?”

It’s so much sensation, all concentrated on such responsive flesh, that you want to beg for him to switch to touching you between your legs.

You haven’t even finished the thought when you feel his unmistakable metaphysical brush against your thigh.

Extending a tendril of your own energy, you invite him in, and he takes it eagerly, ever as eager if not more to be entwined with your mind as with your body.

He hears it all, the besottment, the arousal, the neediness. The panic that he might drag this out longer, that you’ll have to go a single minute longer without...

“It’s alright. It’s alright.” He sends soothing waves through your connection, and he swaps the positioning of his hand with the curl of power. He turns his hand so that the back of it runs through where you’re aching for him, gathering up your slick on the backs of his knuckles. You have to contort your neck to see what follows when he takes the hand back behind you, and your mouth goes dry when he sucks the knuckles in between his lips.

You want to hear, you want to know what he’s…

He’s welcoming you in, navigating you to the brink of his mental barriers, letting you take that final plunge into the unsuppressed fullness of your bond to each other.

Now it’s your turn to hear it: how his carefully constructed unaffected persona is not at all a match for his naked, wanton need for you.

And under that, the foundation on which that desire is built, not the product of it, is his love, his unyielding, unashamed, iridescent love for you.

It’s all you can do but to pour it back, affirming and soothing and calling his love into action with your own.

You both don’t want anything else except the most complete of entanglement, and that’s exactly what he moves to do, situating your bodies, hiking your top leg in the crook of his arm as you feel the initial breach of his body into yours, and all breath leaves your lungs in an exhilarating evacuation.

His audible gasp is an echo of his emotions, how he thinks he’s prepared for this onslaught of feeling, but how you take him off guard, how his equilibrium threatens to teeter every time.

The web of his consciousness enveloping you, it’s easy to pick out a single thought blaring within him: How much he adores the way you fit together. Your back against his chest, how your breast fits in his hand, how the snug joining of where his cock presses into your body sends you into trembles, how comforting your very presence is to his soul when he lets you in like this.

Tears, without warning, seep out of your eyes as he starts to move against you, slow and deep. You close your eyes, willing the powerful emotion away, but glimmers of light flash out behind our closed lids the moment you do, and how the kriff does he stay composed?

Anchor. Anchor against me.

He stills, letting you have a break from the barrage of pleasure blinding you as you search him out, looking for the cords of his intellect that seemingly both steam downward and beam upward, grounding him.

You find it, and you clasp on tightly.

But the moment he starts moving again, you lose sight of it all over again.

Your heightened hormones make your flesh so susceptible, and the tears start to fall again. Obi-Wan rolls your nipple in between his thumb and index, and he’s so good, and you’re so full, and you can hear his pleasure as your own, adding, doubling everything…

Scorching, electrifying heat speeds through your veins, hitting hard and fast, leaving you astounded and even more sensitive than before.

Obi-Wan’s signature spikes as your climax resounds through him, and you can feel the vibration of the wanton noises he’s making right where his beard scratches against your neck.

But he doesn’t allow it to overtake him, letting it run through him without resistance, making himself pliable but unmovable, keeping himself back from the edge.

You still have much to learn.

Because that control? Gives him the ability to not even stop, not even hesitate once, even at both yours and his own ecstasy flowing through him.

When he starts striking his hips hard into yours, the weight of him inside you dragging exactly in the right place, you start to cry in earnest. Obi-Wan stops for a millisecond, concern radiating off of him, even when he can hear how much you want this so clearly, has access to every little passing thought.

“Don’t stop, I’m fine, I pro…” He does just as asked while moving his hand down to your belly again, a soothing touch to his rough thrusts. Your eyes are blurred with wetness, overwhelmed with him.

He’s listening to it all, applying every micro-feeling of feedback into action against your desperate, post-orgasmic skin, hand switching back and forth from your nipples to loosely clutching your neck, Force energy focused on applying pressure to your clit.

“You’re doing so well, so good for me,” comes the wisp of his sultry tone, lips pressed against your ear.

Since you aren’t even thinking about changing position, you know it’s his own preference that has him withdrawing, guiding you onto your back.

There’s no inhibition this way, not the way there is when you’re on your side, no separation from your bodies being flush when he pushes into you again. You have to anchor in him, both mentally and with your fingernails clawing at his shoulder blades as your body starts into tremors.

He’s keeping the weight of his chest off of you, even though your belly is still barely swollen into distinguishable roundedness, and as much as you miss the contact, you can look into his eyes like this, can see the unfiltered attachment and all the weight of all the emotion he wills his body to not cave under.

But then the tremoring transforms into series of contractions throughout your body, centering through your slick core, and you thrash your head to the side catching a glimpse of Obi-Wan’s fingers clenching into white knuckles, grasping into the exposed sand from the blanket being bunched up.

He projects his thoughts across the tether to you, how thoroughly impacted by the very fact you’re carrying his child, how affected he is by every little thing about you, honored that he’s allowed to touch you like this.

You roll your hips back up into his, and that’s what it takes. His stuttering body is the lightning, and the searing, molten pleasure across your connection is the thunderous repercussion.

It completely overthrows you, and your body bows against him as his high instantly cues yours again.

You can feel him throb inside you at the very moment you do, his turn to experience the secondary sensory white-out of your mate’s climax through the Force, his shuddering shout meeting your breathy whines in the close distance between your mouths.

And he does kiss you then, soundly but with the haze of afterglow slowing it.

“Have you any idea how bewitching you are to me?” He breathes it out, and despite all the ways you’d normally scoff at such words, his eyes tell the story, and you listen to it’s truth.

His eyes hold that constant infiltrating study of you, the one that could be unnerving if his mind, still tethered to yours didn’t hold such amor, heart bleed such fondness that settles in the creases around his eyes.

How interesting it is watching someone as knowledgeable as him having such an inquisitive outlook on life, and being so frequently the object of those investigations.

Did the galaxy know her debt to him? Did she know the sum owed to inflicting the worst of life’s pains on someone who refused to let it build anything except an even gentler man of himself? When does she plan on repaying him? What does she offer in exchange for her cruelty of the hand she’s dealt Obi-Wan Kenobi?

Then the whisper comes, soft but crisp, from somewhere in the threads of existence around you, “Can’t you see? It’s you, child.”

You could argue it. You could scream how it’s not enough, how you’re not enough, how he deserves so much more from some dark insecure place inside you. Or how love shouldn’t be treated as currency in exchange for pain, how the galaxy could still have your fists if that was how it tallied.

But the finality of it settles in your soul, more impressionistic than in solid wording: there is no easy conclusion that ties the suffering of life into purpose, no experience that erases or mends its pain. But love. Love makes the complicated endeavor of trying to find purpose in the madness worthwhile.

Obi-Wan’s hum of agreement resounds in your ears and through to your head. His Force signature feels so familiar, so at home within yours and yours within his, that you’d briefly forgotten he could still hear you.

With all the strength still left in quaking limbs, you wrap your arms around him, and he melts into it.

The compassion of his soul hardly matches his war-ravaged skin, his guilt-ridden memories. Every good thing here came to be with a war waged, refined and not burnt away in fire at his sheer tenacity.

It’s a growing thing, blooming in the desert. The beliefs in both of you. Your love for each other. Your own trust in the Force.

Healing is no short journey, but her two sojourners here are determined.

And if that tender hope can blossom here?

Then maybe, just maybe: Tatooine is exactly the place for a baby after all.

*********

In the valley beyond the hut, a boy jets quickly away in some mechanical contraption he recently motorized, a girl in a similar vehicularized compilation of junk not far behind.

On the cliff’s edge stands Obi-Wan, eyes scanning the landscape intermittently for any sign of threat between longer affectionate looks at the children before him.

He turns, feeling your approach in his keen awareness as you set a hand on his shoulder from behind. His temples are now even thicker with sun-bleached silver, and his eyes wield the lines of laughter around them.

And you? You’re as roped in by his gravitational pull as you’ve always been.

He puts a hand over yours, clasping it to bring you in front of him, where he can still watch the children and encase you in his arms at the same time.

“Slow down, Luke! You’re going too fast!” comes the distressed cry of your daughter, Ahlina, drawing your attention away from admiring Obi-Wan and back to the valley. Her vowels curl in the same way her father’s does, but her more casual phrasing was certainly thanks to you. Luke shouts back at her, “Come on, keep up!” while he races on ahead.

Obi-Wan smiles, seemingly amused at a secret joke.

“They are much too young for this nonsense still,” he speaks, muffled slightly as he hides his lips in your hair.

“Probably,” you reply with an airy laugh.

Not long after, the engine on Luke’s small contraption gives out, jutting him off and tumbling forward into the sand.

“I told you!” Ahlina yells, her own machine coming to a halt not far away from Luke.

When they make it back up the cliff, Obi-Wan couches and opens his arms, and they both come running with smiles. They’re still young enough to be unshy about affection, and Obi-Wan knows to soak it up, closing his eyes in relishment.

Luke is the first to wiggle down, waving before running over to hug your leg, which you happily return, brushing some of the blonde mop of hair from his forehead. You adored the nights that the Lars let him sleep over.

Although the nights that Ahlina slept over at theirs certainly had their allure too.

“Can we have a snack, Daddy?” Ahlina asks, still happy to be hoisted up on one of his arms.

“Hm. Perhaps I can make some of those ahrisa sweet breads again?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Can Mommy make them?”

“Why not mine?”

“Because you always burn them.”

He bops a finger lightly on her nose with a smile. “Cheeky.”

She goes to bop him on his nose in return, but he catches the finger, holding it.

“Give it back!” she screeches through a giggle.

“No, no. I think I’ll keep it now.”

The suns are dipping low as you retreat into the hut, the two children running ahead, racing to gather the ingredients to help you bake the bread. Luke especially was an enthusiastic sous-chef.

You step to follow them, but Obi-Wan grasps your hand. You turn back to him, and he barely gives you a second before he joins his mouth to yours. Sliding a hand into the auburn beard, you open your mouth to him, letting his familiar taste permeate your senses.

He reluctantly breaks after a long moment, and you take his hand in yours. When you turn back to the horizon, the suns are dipping, blanketing the landscape in the most celestial light of the day.

The planet’s eyes aren’t harsh in the way you used to see them. They’re still intense, and frequently unforgiving.

Perhaps they never changed. Maybe only you did.

But as they sink now, you give a silent, partial farewell, knowing they’ll greet you again in the morning.

Because if Dark’s patience is infinite?

So is the promise of the return of the Light.

Tagging upon request: @million-dollar-legs

#obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi wan x you #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi wan smut #obi-wan smut #obi-wan #obi-wan x oc

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iamtheblondestblonde · 4 years ago

Text

Clear as Day

Part One?

AN: Here’s some friends with benefits with Vince that I came up with in between cases at work. Vince if you’re reading this I’m so sorry please stop right here but also hmu I swear I just wanna be friends. I don’t know much about being a pediatric nurse (financial law anyone?) but I did volunteer at a hospital for a while so I hope it’s not super far off. I have plans and some stuff written for a part two that could be the same length so let me know you want one but it could be complete like this. (First person narrative but again no names or descriptions for the mc)

Warnings: language, definitely (also English isn’t my first language so perhaps some mistakes) and smut, also definitely (yes you read that right I did it again)

Word Count: 13.3k

I loved my job. I really did. I found it rewarding to be able to make tiny faces light up but I was currently on my second day of 12 hour back to back shifts, with yesterday closer to 14 hours, and I just really wanted to spend the entire day in bed.

It wasn’t even 7 a.m. yet and the streets of Toronto were already bustling, everybody preparing for a busy day. The sound of the ice cubes sloshing around in my coffee had become a staple background noise for the walk from the employee parking lot to the front entrance of the hospital, it soothed me.

As soon as I stepped into the building I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face, despite being sleep-deprived and basically needing a break already. There was a new drawing pinned to the wall by the nurses�� station and if the image of my smiling face wasn’t a dead giveaway already, it was hard to miss my name written on top of it in big bold letters.

It had started out as a joke really, a half-hearted complaint about me not getting as many drawings as others because most of my patients didn’t stay long in the ICU. From that moment on Lucas, my only long-term patient right now and all-time favorite teenager, had made sure that there was always a new one waiting for me every week. He was really good at drawing as well and I had an entire stack of amazing portraits, landscapes and lots of other random things at my apartment that I cherished dearly.

“He wanted to give it to you himself but then we had to give him something and he asked me to put it up so you’d see it as soon as you got in.” I turned around to see Mariah standing behind me, her face showing the same look of fondness as mine. Most of the nurses were pretty convinced that he had a crush on me and while I had to face lots of playful jabs because of that, she never gave me shit about it. She was probably about to head out and I knew that she only stayed behind to tell me this so I made sure to thank her.

“Is he up yet?”

“Surprisingly not, although he should be soon. He’s had a rough night and he stayed up way too long to draw but I doubt that anything could ruin this day for him, two dreams coming true and all.”

As soon as her words registered with me I mentally facepalmed, I’d completely forgotten that we’d get a visitor in a couple of hours. Because of Lucas’ surgery he hadn’t talked about hockey all that much lately, so I’d kind of forgotten that today he would get to meet one of his idols. I was about to respond something when I spotted Sydney waving me over.

Sydney was in charge of all of the pediatric nurses during the day shift, meaning that I had approximately three seconds to make my way over before she’d get impatient because she was always so busy. I waved goodbye to Mariah and speed walked over to Sydney, curious to see as to what she needed of me. She never beat around the bush, always coming straight to the core of things so I didn’t expect the conversation to last long and today was no different. She probably held the world record for fastest talker.

“So you know we’re getting a visitor today which means that I need someone to run a tight ship for me. You’re young and perky and I asked around and people love you. I know you helped with some of the Leafs the last time so you should already be familiar with the protocol. This is a big hospital and I want all of the kids on the list to get a chance to talk to Mr Dunn and that won’t happen if he gets lost so I want you to stay with him at all times, got it? I’ll get one of the on-calls to take over for you during everything.”

I couldn’t even get a word in before her pager went off and she jogged off after practically thrusting a file into my hands, unable to respond anything as she said something over her shoulder about this being a gift. I stared after her with my mouth hanging wide open, not really comprehending what had just gone down yet.

Being ‘young and perky’ had apparently just managed to get me demoted from a RN to a babysitter for yet another over-confident celebrity which didn’t really feel like a gift at all.

Lucas had told me all about how great this Vince apparently was but I had seen my fair share of famous people walking around these halls with camera teams following them, it was kind of a part of working with sick kids. There were exceptions of course, some of them were really nice but those were usually the ones that didn’t visit the kids for some good PR. While I was glad that it would make Lucas happy it didn’t really impress me anymore.

Besides I hadn’t really paid attention to hockey ever before, although it was hard to escape the hype right now with me being a St. Louis native. Some of my friends had sent me pictures of the parade from about a month ago but I hadn’t really paid much attention because I’d been slammed with work, not recognizing any of the players either way.

The file Sydney had given me consisted of a schedule for the day and a list of the kids that wanted to meet Vince, which was surprisingly long for this being a hospital in Toronto and him playing for the Blues. Even with my limited, read non-existent, hockey knowledge I was pretty sure that the team wasn’t liked very much in the league but I blamed it on them winning. Sydney was right, we would have to make good time to get through everybody.

I couldn’t exactly spend forever going through the file because I had mostly new admissions assigned to me and that meant lots of charting and running tests. I did spend my break reading through everything and trying to come up with a plan while shoveling food to my mouth at record speed however. Even if I wasn’t exactly thrilled with this assignment there was absolutely no way I wouldn’t be prepared. I would leave this hospital with the best possible impression of me, all things be damned.

It was kind of hard to focus on what was written in front of me though when I had three other nurses standing close by and ranting about how hot Vince apparently was. Lucas had shown me his hockey card a few times but I didn’t really know what he looked like because I was usually busy putting in a new IV line at the time, something he’d come to hate so talking about hockey was the perfect distraction. I was tempted to google him but before I got the chance my pager went off, signaling that the incoming convoy was about to arrive.

Unable to stop myself I checked my reflection quickly in one of the mirrors on my way out of the restroom. Call me vain but I didn’t want to end up in any pictures or videos looking like a total slob, even if it was just in the background. I’d taken the time to shower this morning but I definitely would’ve added more than the layer of concealer if I’d known about this earlier. At least I’d gotten my brows done and my lash extensions refilled a couple of days ago. Deciding that it was too late to do anything else about it I walked towards the front entrance with the file in my hands, making sure one last time that I knew where to take this Vince first.

It wasn’t hard to spot him in the group that arrived, the big shiny trophy he was lugging around kind of a dead giveaway.

He was good-looking, I had to give him that. Not in the rugged handsome way however, it was more of a defined features and beautiful way. The kind of look that got you dubbed as a pretty boy during high school, the polo shirt he was spotting only reinforcing that image.

I couldn’t really imagine him playing ice hockey. He was fit of course, but he wasn’t as big and bulky as I’d thought and if I had to guess I’d peg him as a baseball or lacrosse player, perhaps soccer even. If all hockey players looked like him however, I might have to catch a game or two after all.

I walked over with my big work smile plastered on my face, hand outstretched and he set the cup down to shake it as I introduced myself first. I caught him looking me up and down quickly but I wasn’t really one to talk because I’d done the same exact thing just seconds earlier.

“Hi I’m Vince, nice to meet you. Love the scrubs by the way”, he responded with a dazzling smile, gesturing at my outfit. Compliments weren’t a bad start, especially since I was wearing one of my favorites with an adorable blue and pink dinosaurs print.

“Thanks, one of my friends paints them for me.” Not willing to dwell too long on awkward small talk I continued: “Do you want me to get like a wheelchair for the cup or are you gonna carry it the entire time?”

“I think I’d get a lot of shit for not carrying it so thanks but no thanks.”

I quickly introduced myself to the rest of the team before herding everyone towards the elevators because he had to be upstairs in a couple of minutes. The camera team was more intimidating than I’d thought and I tried my best to distract myself from it as I pointed out different things around the hospital, only hoping that I wasn’t rambling without making any sense.

I was pretty sure that Vince could tell that I was uncomfortable because he kept our conversation going the whole time, obviously trying to make me laugh. His own laugh was hard to ignore and by the time we walked into the room where a livestream would take place the smile on my face was real. At least he wasn’t just easy on the eyes but he seemed fairly entertaining so far as well.

I watched him do the stream with Owen, who I’d spent some time in post-op with after his surgery a couple of weeks ago, and then stood close by as he talked to the long line of patients and people who were able to come up here. Sometimes when he saw a special needs kid getting closer he’d turn to me to ask for advice and tips and even all that ruckus didn’t stop him from keeping up a normal conversation with me.

He’d pick up right where we left off whenever there was a small break in between people and I wasn’t only amazed at his multitasking, but also at how amazing he was with the kids. He made me show him how to hold a baby and I think I’ll never be able to forget the image of a cute little baby boy in the cup.

“I ate cereal out of there this morning”, he whispered conspiratorially to me after the mother was finally done thanking him and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Of course you did. I hope you put it in the sink afterwards at least.” He gave me a wounded look, as if me insinuating he was not a clean person was hurting his ego and I laughed even more. I couldn’t really tell if he was trying to flirt with me or if he was like this with everyone but the mixed signals he’d sent me all afternoon were starting to get confusing.

“You think so lowly of me, I thought you’d know better by now.” With anyone else the wink he sent me as he delivered his line would have probably been overkill but somehow it worked for him.

The fact was that I did know better by now, even if it had only been just under two hours. I probably hadn’t been this wrong about something since I absolutely botched a math test in tenth grade thinking I aced it and he had turned out to be nothing like I had imagined him to be. Perhaps the early morning sleep-deprived me lacked the sense of being able to assess character that I usually had.

When I told him that it was time to leave he looked at me with a puppy eyes, pleading with me to let him stay a little longer. Working in pediatrics I got this a lot but somehow it had a whole different effect on me coming from a 6 feet tall hockey player with lips that were practically made for pouting.

“But there’s still some people left that I haven’t gotten to.”

“There’s also some kids that couldn’t come up here because they are too sick waiting for you in the ICU and you won’t be able to see all of them in time if we don’t go over there now. There’s a tight schedule for a reason you know.”

“Fuck the schedule, I’ll just stay longer,” he said with a cheeky grin but not before covering the ears of the little girl in front of him with his hands so she wouldn’t hear him curse. At this point I felt like it was way too easy for him to make me laugh but at the same time I didn’t really want to do anything against it. These halls had seen worse things than people laughing after all.

“You fit right in with all of my patients, you know that? And don’t you have plans with the cup for this evening?”

I didn’t get an answer straight away because Vince took his time to talk to the last five families left in line before we made our way back to the elevators. I had kind of forgotten about the camera crew that was there to document it all until all of us were crammed back inside the tight space, my shoulder brushing against Vince’s arm so I wouldn’t bump into any of the expensive equipment.

“I promised to make an appearance at this club but they’ll wait for me. By the way, you should come as well.” At first I thought he was joking, surely he had to be as we’d only met, but his try at a winning smile told me he was anything but. Again, was this him flirting or was I losing my mind?

“Shooting your shot while you’re in my good graces because of the kids, I see. I’m gonna have to disappoint though, I’m stuck here till seven and then I have another 12 hour shift coming up tomorrow so I can have a four day weekend.” I had already kind of accepted that we would never see each other again, especially with me turning him down now, and I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t a bit sad about it.

“That sounds brutal. I’m throwing another party at my condo on Saturday if you’re free then.”

“I’m actually driving up to a lake house with some friends for the weekend, sorry.” By now I really was interested because he seemed fun and I wanted that for my last few weeks up here but his timing was truly the worst.

“Wow, you’re really making me work for it,” he let out a teasing chuckle then, running his hand up and down his neck in a very distracting move as he contemplated his next words “I’m assuming you have a busy week next week as well so perhaps next Saturday?”

“Ummm.. I already agreed to meet some friends at a bar on that Saturday,” his face fell at that so I couldn’t help but add “but you’re welcome to meet us there if you want to see how the working class parties. Bring some of your friends as well if you want.”

The smile he gave me at that was equivalent to that of a five year old patient when they get told that they could have a slice of the chocolate cake and it made me glad that there was no one monitoring my heart rate at the moment.

The next day was just another regular day at work and while I had lots of fun yesterday, I was glad to be back in my comfort zone. Working days was anything but boring and I had been so busy that my watch told me I’d already reached my step goal for the day halfway through my shift.

I finally had some time to update the charts while sitting down at the nurses’ station, desperately hoping for some down time soon so I could perhaps even grab another cup of coffee to stop me from climbing into a free bed and taking a nap right there.

I’d seen many people pray in this building and not all of them got what they wished for but somehow today must have been my lucky day because just as I’d finished that thought someone cleared their throat in front of me. I was ready to answer some questions from worried parents but what I totally didn’t expect was Vince standing there with two coffee cups.

“I thought I’d drop this off as a thank you for babysitting me yesterday and I had a feeling that you’d need it”, he said before giving me one of his dazzling smiles. He looked good in a black t shirt and some jeans, his perfectly styled hair in contrast to the messy bun currently on top of my head. That is if the rat’s nest could even still be called a bun.

“Vince Dunn you just keep on surprising me”, I responded with a breathless laugh, not really knowing what else to say at the sweet gesture. What do you say to a good-looking hockey player that not only asks you to spend time with him three times but also takes the time out of his day for this?

Well, besides thanks, obviously.

Vince handed me one of the cups and I took a sip before looking up at him in surprise.

“How do you know the way I like my coffee?”

Instead of answering, he pointed at something behind me and I turned around to see the coffee order list I’d started a while ago in case someone decided to grab some for everyone, my name on top of the sheet.

“I noticed it yesterday in passing, I swear I’m not a stalker or anything.” He blushed at this and it was so cute and unlike his otherwise smooth self that I couldn’t just let him off the hook.

“You know, that’s exactly what a stalker would say”, I responded with a sly smile and while his face turned even more red he burst out laughing. By now we had the attention of every nurse close by and I was pretty sure that all of them were eavesdropping but who could blame them, I’d do the exact same thing. People here lived for the drama, kind of a given with how much time we spent in here because it didn’t really leave much space for a life outside of these halls. Especially if said drama involved a very hot hockey player.

“I’m changing the topic now before I embarrass myself in front of you even further just so you know. I did actually come here for one more thing,” he trailed off before bending down to pick up a bag that I hadn’t noticed before, too distracted by the guy in front of me. “I brought this for Lucas so he has something to show his friends once he gets back on the ice.” He pulled out a Blues’ jersey and turned it around so I could see that it was one of his, complete with a signature and a small message.

Lucas had been an avid hockey player himself up until his kidneys basically decided that they didn’t want to work anymore a while ago. Things had gotten so bad that he had to permanently stay in intensive care with us until after months of dragging people in here to get tested they finally found a donor in a family friend last week. At least his surgery had gone well and while I’d miss having him around, I was glad that he’d finally get discharged to recover at home later today.

I took another sip of the coffee before getting up and walking next to Vince to Lucas’ room. Lucas greeted me with a smile, which only grew after he saw who was following me into the room. Despite having struggled for so long he had always been in a good mood, even when he had to celebrate his fifteenth birthday in the hospital a few weeks ago.

“Look at you, it’s your last day in here and things just keep on getting better.” Vince and Lucas did the handshake they’d come up with yesterday, something that was absolutely necessary as a hockey player or so I’d been told.

Lucas had grown up in Chicago and he’d seen Vince play for the team there but had only really started paying attention after the apparently best fight ever Vince had gotten into at one of the games. Obviously not my words. The connection between the two of them had been instant and all the hockey talk had my head spinning more than during the first few weeks of nursing school so I made a quick exit, leaving them to it.

“I bet every nurse wishes they could trade spots with you right now, me included by the way”, Rachel, my partner in crime since day one of our college classes together, said as soon as I returned to my spot at the station.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”, I responded, acting clueless. With a raised brow she reached for my coffee cup, spinning it around to reveal a small note written on the side of it that I hadn’t even noticed before.

“You sure about that? This fine specimen of a hockey player just gave you his number and you still act like there’s nothing going on? Besides, everyone saw you two getting all chummy yesterday.”

I snatched the cup out of her hands, quickly checking if the coast was clear before pulling out my phone to add his number to my contacts while keeping my head down so I wouldn’t have to look her in the eyes.

“Oh wipe that shit-eating grin off your face. All I get is annoying parents and you get hot dads and famous athletes hitting on you out left and right. Like leave some for the rest of us girl, it’s not fair.”

Even though I’d shot Vince a quick text so he could have my number as well, I never really expected anything more than his response that he’d saved it.

To say I was surprised when he texted me the following week was definitely an understatement. It wasn’t a booty call either, no, he’d texted me in the middle of the day asking if I was working days or nights this week.

Me: days as usual but I’m actually on-call today, got luckyy

Dunner: so you’re home right now?

Okay so perhaps this was a booty call after all. Not that I particularly minded.

While his first response had been pretty fast he took a little longer to answer after I told him that I was home indeed. Laying on the couch in an oversized shirt and yoga pants rewatching some Grey’s Anatomy on to be exactly. Almost the same as working. The rainy weather set the perfect mood for a lazy day in though so I hadn’t moved from my spot ever since returning from the gym this morning.

Dunner: this Chinese place near me has a special two for one offer today and I wanted to bring you some to work

I still wasn’t sure if this was him flirting but I’d also never had somebody I’d only met a week ago offer to bring me food to the hospital so he had to be, right? I sent a screenshot of the message to Rachel but I knew that I couldn’t count on her responding to it anytime soon, seeing as she was actually at work right now. I decided to be forward, telling him that I wouldn’t complain about some good food either way.

Inviting someone who was basically a stranger over to your apartment generally wasn’t exactly the best idea, but I counted on the impression I had of him so far and the reputation he surely had to uphold as a NHL player. Besides, we had lots of medical equipment scattered around the apartment so surely I’d find a syringe or something to defend myself if needed.

Dunner: I’ll be over in 30 so try not to get called in before then

True to his word the bell didn’t ring much later. I’d debated making an effort and changing but I wasn’t about to wear jeans or a skirt to hang out so that didn’t leave many options. Brushing your hair wasn’t nothing either so that counted in my opinion.

Vince had gone through the same train of thought as well apparently because he looked super cozy in some sweatpants and a hoodie that had gotten slightly wet, presumably from his walk from his car to the building as our parking situation was really shitty. He stepped inside and reached up to run his hand through his damp hair before shaking his head, making little droplets of water fly in every direction.

“This is why they don’t allow dogs in here”, I laughed, gesturing to my shirt that now looked like an abstract splash painting.

“Let me make it up to you with some of the best food you’ve ever had because I brought lots” was his response as he lifted the bag of take out while slipping off his shoes by the door, hair now sticking in all directions.

“Alright Dunner, show me what you got”, I said with a wink over my shoulder as I made my way into the kitchen, continuing my bold streak from earlier. I had also learned by now that nicknames were even more important than handshakes as a hockey player. I was pretty sure I’d heard him mumble something along the line of ‘Gladly’ but I was already too far ahead of him to be absolutely certain.

“You’re watching Grey’s Anatomy? Isn’t it like crazy inaccurate?”, he asked with a look at the TV in the living room as I hadn’t bothered to pause the episode.

“Yeah of course it is but I still like it somehow. It’s like the hospital equivalent of bad trash TV shows so it’s kind of my guilty pleasure.”

“Okay give me a quick summary of what I need to know for this episode so we can watch it while we eat.”

I looked at him like he was crazy but he urged me on, looking up at me expectantly from where he’d sat down on the couch. Eventually I gave in, trying to keep explanations as short as possible but even then it took me quite a while to get through, yet Vince never once looked like he was bored. He didn’t lose his interest in it after that either, only looking away from the screen to decide what he was going to eat next, all of the choices delicious just like he promised.

Stuffed like a turkey on Thanksgiving the both of us stayed unmoved on the couch watching episode after episode. Somehow my legs had ended up on his lap and his hands were resting on my knees, drawing slow circles as we made eye contact from time to time. Every few minutes his hand would inch up a little and with him biting his lip as he did it there was no way I would stop him, any doubts about his intentions long gone by now. I couldn’t stop the smile spreading on my lips as his hand finally reached the top of my thigh, softly kneading the sensitive part on the inside. If I was into hand porn, I would have orgasmed already at the sight of his hands wrapped around my thigh.

“What are you grinning about?”, Vince asked with an easy smile himself, looking at me in a way that told me that Meredith had long lost his attention.

“Just waiting for you to finally make a move.”

“I was trying to be somewhat of a gentlemen but I really can’t help myself with you wearing those pants..”

“Well you seem to be awful at it so don’t be one then”, I teased back feeling confident yet again.

In a flash he had somehow - I’ll probably keep wondering about the details for the rest of my life - managed to lift me up enough to shift me so I was straddling his lap, now turned on by his manhandling and the way he was currently looking up at me. For a second both of us stared at each other, trying to figure out if this was really going to happen. Vince lifted his hand from my hip to my face, slowly pulling me down towards him.

Our lips didn’t even get the chance to connect before my phone started ringing.

I jumped up from his lap, immediately recognizing the ringtone I had set for all work calls and almost kneeing him in the crown jewels in the process. One look at my screen told me that it was an emergency which prompted me to run into my room cursing. I quickly pulled on the pair of scrubs I’d laid out in the morning, one hand still pulling the top down while the other was trying to attach my badge properly by the time I made it back into the living room. Vince hadn’t even moved from the couch yet, eyes wide and legs still comfortably spread apart, a sight that made me want to climb back on top of him but unfortunately I couldn’t do that.

“I’m so sorry but I gotta go, you don’t need to rush though. Feel free to keep on watching if you want but please don’t rob us and make sure the door is closed if you decide to leave after all, it locks automatically. The food was delicious thank you very much and bye!”

I barely heard him saying bye as well before I was already through the door, not really looking forward to spending the next few hours in the chaos that usually came with emergency calls. Especially after how much I’d enjoyed spending time with Vince and how much I wished that we would’ve just skipped all of the testing-the-waters stuff and would’ve just went at it like madmen.

The weekend couldn’t arrive fast enough and by the time it was Saturday I was ready to abandon all of my plans so I could sleep the rest of the day. I’d gotten in late last night after working overtime and I probably would have stayed in bed till noon if it wasn’t for Rachel and Mariah bursting into my room at nine in the morning. At least they didn’t wake me at the crack of dawn and the cake they were carrying to my bed looked pretty delicious as well.

“Look at you, another year older and yet still sexy as fuck”, Rachel exclaimed as she hopped onto the bed beside me after they’d finished their horrible rendition of Happy Birthday. Mariah settled on the other side of me and I guess my friends knew me well enough because we didn’t move from that position except to grab some more food and booze until it was time to get ready for tonight. Best roommates ever.

“You need to look extra hot tonight, I want Vince to lose his shit when he sees you.”

Ever since I’d sent the screenshot to Rachel and told her about the couch situation, she had been on my back about the thing. Something about me needing to bag rich hot athletes for her sake. I didn’t even argue with her anymore, only rolling my eyes in sync with Mariah whenever she brought it up.

To my surprise Vince hadn’t been deterred by my hasty exit a few days ago, something that had definitely surprised me. It wasn’t the first time that my job had cockblocked me and it definitely won’t be the last and I’d met more than my fair share of guys who were absolutely not into that at all. The fascination with nurses died really fast once people realized how much time we spent on the job.

Vince and I had texted constantly since he spent the day with me and he had somehow managed to make casual conversation with a flirty undertone the entire time. We’d already established that neither of us was looking for anything serious right now but I had decided that I would definitely not say no to some fun with him.

Some birthday sex would be great for starters. I let Rachel curl my hair while I focused on perfecting my make up because I wanted to look good tonight, not just for Vince but also because by next weekend I’d already be packed so this was really my last big hurrah before moving back home.

The thing about spending most of my days make up free in sports bras, comfortable panties and running shoes was that if I did bother to go out, I put in a lot of effort. I was determined to turn heads tonight so I pulled on a black lace bodysuit that practically presented my boobs on a silver tray, a pair of jeans that made my ass look spectacular and some black stilettos that I hoped wouldn’t kill my feet in a few hours. I had to go braless under the bodysuit, the mesh part on the back making that very obvious and I had a feeling that Vince wouldn’t exactly mind either.

“Girl I’d totally bang you because you look so hot but that outfit shows off everything that’s wrong with you”, Rachel said as we all examined ourselves one last time in front of the full-length mirror in my room and took pictures. I shot her a confused look.

“Wait what’s wrong with me?”

“Well for one your ass looks bangin and so do your boobs and I’m pretty sure that I could tell if you had a dick wearing that and people with dicks are my type soooo..”, she trailed off and both Mariah and I turned towards her with an incredulous look before bursting out laughing, all the day drinking taking its toll already. It wasn’t exactly new for Rachel to stop making any sense once she had some alcohol in her but it was still just as entertaining every single time.

“I can’t believe you’re complaining about her not having a dick right now”, Mariah sighed and I couldn’t stop giggling at my idiotic friends.

“I’m not complaining! I’m just saying that I need a dick to-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Just – just for once in your life be at least somewhat normal please”, Mariah interrupted her exasperated and the both of them continuing to bicker still had me laughing by the time we climbed into the back of our Uber.

We were the last to arrive of course, because Rachel had insisted on us being fashionably late so by the time we made it inside the bar I could already spot my friends sitting in the back. She had also insisted on me wearing a stupid Birthday Girl sash, reminding me how many free drinks it would get me, but I drew the line at the tiara she had pulled out of her purse as well. I was too old for the full 21st birthday look after all.

After I was hugged by everyone and had received all of the birthday wishes and presents I realized that Vince wasn’t among the group, which was weird because we’d been texting all day and he had asked to confirm the time and place again just this morning.

It was as if my thought made him appear because soon I felt two hands gently grab my waist while his cologne infiltrated my senses. He spun me around and the force of the move had me reach out to rest my hands on his shoulders so I wouldn’t fall over. I knew he had done that on purpose.

We were standing so close that we would have definitely gotten in trouble if this were a middle school dance and the way he looked down at me right now made me curse everything that came to my mind because I just wanted to drag him to the nearest bathroom so he could bend me over the counter but of course that wouldn’t be acceptable in front of all my friends.

“Why didn’t you tell me that today is your birthday? Now I’m going to have to make up for the fact that I didn’t get you a present.”

I had a feeling that I wouldn’t mind whatever this making up entailed, if the way he tightened his grip while looking at me as if he was thinking about bathroom counters as well was any indicator.

“Because you don’t just tell people that it’s your birthday, that’s weird.” He pulled me even tighter then, wrapping his arms around me and wishing me a happy birthday after giving me a kiss on the cheek that gave me goosebumps. Before he had the chance to pull away however, I leaned up on my tippy toes because even with heels he was still taller than me and whispered “I can’t wait for the making up for it part though” in his ear.

He groaned in response and he dropped his hands to give my hips a squeeze before reluctantly letting go of me. Only now did I spot the two guys behind him that were all watching us with amused expressions, which had to be the friends he said he’d bring. Introductions were quick and I didn’t even bother to introduce everyone to Vince and his gang because the group was so big that the three of them wouldn’t be able to remember many names either way.

We settled into one of the booths and Rachel practically pushed me into the seat next to Vince, not that I minded of course. Conversation flowed easily, as did the drinks, and soon I found myself climbing out of the booth because I had just about consumed my body weight in liquid and desperately needed to go to the bathroom for something that unfortunately wasn’t sex. Walking over I could feel a slight buzz already but not to the extent that would make me stumble in my heels, perfect for a night out.

By the time Mariah and I returned I could tell that another one of Rachel’s plans was in action because now there was one more person sitting at our table, meaning there wasn’t enough space left for both Mariah and I. I was about to move to sit with some other friends in the booth next to ours when Vince, who was conveniently seated at the edge of our booth, told me to sit on his lap and that was an offer I would never turn down.

He grabbed my hips to pull me closer and onto his lap as he said: “Don’t worry I won’t bite.”

I couldn’t resist messing with him though, so I purposefully shifted closer to his crotch and leaned towards him so only he could hear me as I whispered: “What if I want you to though?” I could tell he was trying to suppress a groan and he gripped me even tighter, pulling me back into him.

Poor Vince, his balls were going to be the same color as a Blues jersey soon enough.

Unfortunately I couldn’t elaborate to make the situation even worse for him because I was being pulled into the conversation at the table. I could feel him growing hard underneath my ass though and the fact that I was able to rile him up so easily really did wonders for my self-confidence..

After I could tell that he had calmed down again I decided to put him out of his misery. Well, kind of. Me leaning across one of the pool tables as I took my shot gave him a perfect view of my cleavage or of me bending over after all, depending on where he stood.

“Are you always this bad?”, I asked after he missed yet another shot.

“No, usually I’m average at least but I guess I’m a little bit distracted right now.” He didn’t even try to hide him staring at my boobs as I took my turn. We’d both long dropped any pretense about where this was headed. After I made my shot I walked around the table to get a better angle for the next one, accidentally brushing up against Vince who now had a perfect view of my ass.

“I hope you’re only average at pool and not at anything else”, I teased him with a look over my shoulder after watching the ball roll into the hole the way I’d planned before straightening up again.

“Let me take you home so my neighbors can confirm me being anything but average”, he responded, his voice deep as he moved next to me, one of his big hands resting on my lower back to play with the fabric there, the heat of his hands practically burning my skin as I looked up at him.

Our intense eye contact was interrupted by one of the waitresses who walked up to the pool table sheepishly with a drink on her tray.

“Hey, that guy over there sent you this and I’m supposed to tell you to come over to him so you don’t have to, uh, keep playing with a - um - loser. His words not mine, sorry.” She pointed to a guy a few tables over who was decently good looking but radiated Asshole Energy off of him, his incredibly rude move not really helping either. Even if it wasn’t for Vince standing next to me I wouldn’t have touched him with a ten foot pole.

Vince had tensed up at the words and I watched him ball his hands into his fists, every muscle in his body tightening with anger. I had no doubt that because of his hockey experience he could hold his own in a fight but it wasn’t something I needed tonight. I thanked the waitress before setting the drink down and making a show of turning towards Vince, one hand trailing up from his biceps to the back of his head so I could interrupt the stare off he was currently having with the other guy.

“Don’t worry, I’m flattered that I seem to be able to distract you so much. To be honest I can’t really concentrate either because now I really want you to make me scream so loud that your neighbors file noise complaints.” Vince choked slightly and then reached for the drink that was sitting next to me, taking three big gulps while looking at me, his eyes dark.

He then grabbed my hand and I didn’t miss the smug look he threw at the other guy over my shoulder before pulling me towards the backdoor of the bar, the pool game abandoned without a second thought. The air outside had cooled down a bit by now but I didn’t even get the chance to acknowledge that because Vince had me pushed against the wall in a second, one hand resting next to my head while the other reached up to cup my face, dropping his head for a kiss.

All this teasing had finally led to this.

It was rough and yet sensual at the same time, his lips demanding and it didn’t take long until his tongue licked along my bottom lip, asking for entrance. He then deepened the kiss even further and I reached up to bury my hands in his stupidly perfect and soft hair, eliciting a throaty groan. When he pushed one of his legs in between mine I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me in turn at the delicious friction, followed by yet another one as he dropped his head to suck along my neck. I could feel how hard he was and it turned me on beyond imagination.

The thought that I would probably let him fuck me in this alley right now brought me back down to earth because this was not how I envisioned my night going.

“Vince, hold up”, I murmured and as soon as my words registered with him he pulled away, both of us panting.

“What’s wrong?”

I laughed at his expression, he looked at me as if he was truly worried that he’d overstepped a boundary. As if I hadn’t thrown hints left and right for the last couple of days. His swollen lips made it hard to concentrate because I just wanted to sink my teeth into them until he groaned again the way he had only seconds ago and I silently cursed his stupid perfect lips. I wondered what damage they could do.

“Nothing’s wrong, nothing at all. I just wanted to say let’s go back inside for like another hour or so and then we can take off.” The smile that quickly spread on his face made it obvious that he was going to say something not-PG-13 before he opened his mouth again to ask:

“Do you think your friends would mind if I dragged you home right this second?”

I had to laugh at that but it quickly died in my throat as he moved his hands to my hips to pull me close again before crashing his lips back onto mine. The going back to the others part would apparently be slightly delayed but with the way his lips and body moved against mine right now I would probably agree to anything if it meant getting to stay right in this position a bit longer.

This time it was less rushed and frantic and instead he took his time to explore every inch of my mouth while his hands wandered my body. Mine were roaming as well, from the neck down his muscular shoulders around to the front before finally creeping up his back below his shirt. I enjoyed the way I could feel his muscles tense under my touch but eventually we had to pull away from each other. We’d spent way too much time out here as it is.

“Let’s go back inside, the faster we get back the sooner we can leave and besides they’re probably wondering what we’re doing out here so long.”

The smug looks we received once we made our way back to the tables after I fixed my hair and make up and Vince did whatever he had to do to conceal his massive hard on made it clear that everyone had a good idea of what had gone on outside though. I’m pretty sure Rachel would have high fived me if it weren’t for the people sitting between us.

I sat on Vince’s lap again and this time it was torture for the both of us to wait until it was finally an acceptable time to make a getaway. I let Rachel take all the presents for me and she made Vince give her his address and phone number before she let him pull me into the back of an Uber.

I was pressed against him for the entire ride, his hand resting way higher on my leg than technically publicly acceptable. With every turn or bump in the road he accidentally brushed my core and at more than one point I had to hide my face in his broad chest so the driver wouldn’t hear the soft moans that couldn’t be stopped. I could tell that he was trying his best not to get too handsy as not to cause a scene but once we were alone in the elevator of his building all bets were off.

He walked me back against the doors, pushing one of his legs in between my own again and kissed me with a force that made me glad that I had tons of metal behind me as leverage to push back. He only pulled away once the little ‘ding’ could be heard and even then he only held off until he had me inside his apartment, barely waiting a second before he shrugged off his jacket, quickly moving onto mine.

Somehow we managed to make it onto the couch without breaking apart our kiss and I barely had time to admire his floor to ceiling windows before he pulled me close until I was straddling his lap. His lips were working on my neck again and I reminded him to not leave any marks there because I had to work on Monday morning, which only prompted him to move down lower, sucking at the skin right above the lace of my bodysuit.

“No one will see those then”, he murmured against my breasts and I moaned as he reached up to palm them through the material. By the time he was done I had several purple marks littering my cleavage and I really needed to see more of him so I motioned for him to take his shirt off, watching in awe as he reached back to pull it over his head in the perfect way only guys managed to.

His body could only be described as a work of art and I could tell that he worked really hard for it as I traced the outline of his abs, muscles contracting and goosebumps rising at my touch. The city lights made for the perfect lighting and the way his skin glowed in their reflection belonged in a museum if ever captured.

Vince reached for the button of my jeans and looked at me as if to ask if I was okay with that. I nodded before standing up, trying to get out of my jeans and heels in a quick but still somewhat sexy motion but I probably succeeded only halfway. He didn’t seem deterred by my struggle at all, the hungry look in his eyes never once vanishing.

As soon as I stood upright again Vince reached up to trace the lace embellishments, slowly moving his hands down lower towards where I really wanted them. Considering the fact that the bodysuit had already been pretty revealing in itself there wasn’t really much ‘new’ skin to see so far but he still looked at me with an intensity that almost made me shiver.

He reached to pull me down on him again but instead I surprised him by sinking down to my knees in front of him, his breath audibly hitching in his throat. For a second he was silent but as soon as I poked my tongue out to trace the ‘V’ on his lower stomach he let out a low moan, throwing his head back.

“Impatient much?”, I teased him, pleasantly surprised at my ability to make him almost lose his shit without even really doing anything.

“You have no idea. I’ve thought about this for days”, he admitted and I only smiled in return, moving to pull his jeans down along with his boxers without revealing that I had done the same. He got up to step out of both while I was focused on watching his dick bounce with the movement, amazed at the size of it.

As soon as he made himself comfortable again I grabbed the base with one hand while resting the other one on his thigh as I moved to lick the drops of precum that adorned the tip. When my tongue made contact he moved one of his hands into my hair, holding it back so he could get a better view.

“Fuck, you look so good like this”, he cursed when I finally wrapped my lips around him, taking the head into my mouth while swirling my tongue around him and taking him a bit further. I removed my lips and I could tell he was about to protest but any words died in his mouth when I started sucking his balls, reaching up to pump his length that was already slick from my spit with my hand.

He seemed to find his voice again once I licked up the underside of his dick but it was only a string of curses that turned into moans when I took him into my mouth as far as I could, my nose touching his pelvic bone. I relaxed my throat and swallowed around him, my name falling from his lips again and again as I reached up to massage his balls at the same time. I looked up to see him watching me with his pupils blown, hair sticking in all directions from running his hands through it so many times and his mouth slightly open. His arms were spread out beside him on the back of the couch and I wanted to take a picture to commemorate the moment, wanting to remember this forever. He had definitely never looked better and no one could convince me otherwise.

The hand in my hair helped me set a rhythm as I bobbed my head while licking around him and Vince was a moaning and cursing mess above me. It didn’t take long before he quite literally pulled me off him, running his hand across his face and taking a few calming breaths.

“You’re incredible but I don’t want to cum yet”, he finally murmured when he helped me back up and I wasn’t sure if he was only complimenting my blowjob-skills or more but the way he was looking at me right now made any thought besides wanting him inside me disappear.

“Vince I need you”, I practically begged and he quickly nodded before standing up with me still in his lap, reaching out to grab the back of my thighs to prevent me from slipping down. He somehow managed to walk up the stairs with me still wrapped around him while I trailed kisses along his collar bones and it was probably the hottest non-sexual thing I’d ever experienced with a guy.

He turned on a soft light once inside his room and while I would have loved to have a look around I was pretty distracted by the way he literally threw me on the bed before crawling on top of me, my legs falling apart to make space for him as if it was the most natural thing on earth.

Vince kissed down my breasts before suddenly stopping somewhere above my belly button.

“Okay I have to admit I’m a bit lost here, as hot as you look in it how the fuck do I get this thing off?” I probably shouldn’t laugh in such a somewhat serious situation but his helpless expression did nothing to stop the giggles that escaped my mouth. He was smiling as well and I was glad that we could laugh about the slight hiccup without it turning awkward.

I quickly reached down to snap open the buttons before sitting up and pulling the piece of lace over my head, discarding it in some corner of his room now completely naked.

“Much better”, he murmured, one of his hands reaching out to grab a hold of my boobs while the other one wrapped around my back, lowering us back onto the mattress. Eventually he trailed his kisses over the part of my skin that was marked up by him until he sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, his hand taking care of the other one.

Slowly but surely he kissed his way down my body, skipping over the part where I needed him most to suck along the inside of my thighs. The sensation rushed through me, my core already throbbing from days of built up expectations and I let out a whine. I was tempted to try and close my legs so I could at least get some kind of friction but his shoulders between them made that impossible.

“Patience baby, don’t you know that good things come to those who wait?”, he murmured and I shuddered at the feeling of his breath fanning across my heat. I didn’t even have the time to think about the fact that he had just called me baby or that I was actually a firm believer in good things happening to those who worked for them because he reached down to drag one of his fingers through my folds and all thoughts left my body.

“Shit, you’re so wet already”, he said softly but I was unable to give him any response besides a frantic nod and another desperate whine.

I’d fantasized about this for the last couple of days of course but nothing came close to the reality of one of his thick fingers dipping into my core. He teased my entrance for a bit, only pushing inside to his first knuckle but then I whined again and he pushed it in as far as he could. I was so lost in the feeling that I hadn’t even noticed him moving back up my body until he littered the valley between my breasts with heated kisses.

“So tight. I can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

As if the words he’d moaned into my ear weren’t already enough to make any coherent thoughts disappear, he added a second finger and I arched my back into him, the change of angle just right in a way that had me gripping the sheets so tightly that my knuckles turned white. He reached dropped down to tease my nipples, sucking and licking them expertly while his hand thrust up into me.

My moans were already filling the room but then he started circling my clit with his thumb and I knew that I wouldn’t last much longer, the anticipation and desperation definitely helping to speed things along. He looked up at me to watch my reactions and the sight of him with his mouth latched onto my breast was almost enough to send me over the edge by itself.

“I’m so close Vince, please don’t stop”, I begged and this seemed to spur him on further, his movements turning even more eager as he continued to place sloppy kisses along my skin. It was the combination of everything he was doing to me that finally brought me over the edge, the release so sweet after needing it for so long.

He made sure to extend my orgasm as long as possible, only pulling his hand away after I whimpered slightly, the stimulation a bit much now. His softly kissed his way back down and along my thighs now and I could tell that he wasn’t quite done with me yet.

“How’s the birthday girl feeling right now?”, he asked with a teasing smile and normally I probably would have smacked him for this but right now I would tolerate it because I was still in my blissful post-orgasmic state.

“Amazing so far, could do better though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm, I’m pretty sure I was promised some making up for the lack of a present and I don’t think we’ve reached that point yet.”

“Well excuse me then while I go back to work.” And with that he flattened his tongue and boldly licked one long stripe across my slit.

He started out slowly and I was glad because I was still a bit sensitive from my last orgasm, lapping at my entrance and pushing his tongue inside of me, making me gasp. It didn’t take long however until he grabbed my hips to pull me closer and onto his mouth, pushing my legs up to expose me even further to him and ultimately giving him better access.

When he sucked my clit into his mouth I couldn’t help but arch my back off the mattress again, burying my hands in his hair as he reached up to hold me still. This guy’s lips weren’t just pretty, they were apparently amazingly talented as well.

He replaced his tongue with one of his thick fingers, slowly pushing in and soon his name fell off my lips in a religious chant as he added yet another one, curling them upwards for maximum pleasure. I could feel my high coming from a mile away and Vince apparently must have too by the way I was grinding myself against his face because he quite literally dove back in, determined to shatter my word.

And shatter my world he did.

I was pretty sure I would have floated away as I reached my high if it wasn’t for Vince’s hand across my stomach keeping me grounded. My legs were still shaking with the aftershocks of one of the arguably - no hands down - best orgasms I’d had while getting head in my life. By the time I was finally able to open my eyes again he was wiping his face before grinning down at me.

“You look so fucked out already and we haven’t even gotten to that part yet”, he teased and I let out a chuckle before pushing at his chest. Leave it to him to make fun of me after he was the one who put me in this situation. Not that I was complaining of course.

“Don’t worry, it’s a good look on you. One that I’d definitely like to see more often.” He leaned down to nip at my neck then, his cock prodding at my thigh.

“If you keep doing that you definitely will”, I responded with an airy laugh, still kind of breathless. All talk died down after that however when he captured my lips with his again as he crawled on top of me, settling between my legs. Kissing him was definitely addicting and the fact that I could taste myself while doing so only made it ten times more hot.

Vince rolled his hips against mine, groaning into my mouth when his cock dragged against my skin while I couldn’t stop the moan escaping my lips either. Breaking the kiss he pulled back in a way that had him in a push-up position above me, giving me a moment to enjoy the view. His hair was sticking in all kinds of directions, his pupils so blown that they almost seemed black instead of the usual beautiful green and his muscles were flexing from holding the position.

“Still want to keep going?”, he asked and in my daze it took me a second to realize that this was him asking for consent. I had no doubt that he wouldn’t do anything I didn’t want him to but this, him offering to stop when he had done so much for me already while not getting off yet in return, was sweet. Especially since I had made it more than obvious that stopping was definitely not on my mind.

I moved to flip us over then, straddling his thighs and wrapping my hand around his dick, pumping him a few times and in case that wasn’t confirmation enough for him I leaned down to whisper a “definitely” in his ear.

“Condoms?”

“Top drawer on your right.”

Only because we weren’t in the middle of his huge bed was I able to reach said drawer, grabbing one of the foil packets out of the box and ripping it open with my teeth before rolling it down on him. I scooted up enough to line his cock with my entrance and while I tried to watch Vince as I sunk down on him the way my eyes fluttered shut at the sensation was out of my control.

While there had definitely been enough foreplay to make the sliding in part easy it was still quite a stretch, one so amazing however that it had the both of us moaning at the same time.

“Shit you feel incredible”, he breathed and I nodded my head in agreement, too lost in the pleasure to form any coherent sentences. Rolling my hips against him created some amazing friction that had my head spinning as I clenched my muscles, eliciting throaty groans from him.

Vince reached for my hips, gripping them tightly as he helped guide me along, my clit catching on his pelvic bone with every backward movement. “You got one more in you babe?”, he asked and to my surprise I could tell that I did. The fact that I could already feel it bubbling inside of me spoke volumes of our chemistry in bed together. This was a friends with benefits arrangement I could definitely get behind.

He sat up then, changing the angle at which his cock dragged against my walls and also making it possible for him to take one of my nipples into his mouth, gently grazing his teeth against it while tightening his grip on my hip as he thrust up into me. At this point I was a moaning mess on top of him but I honestly didn’t care. I hadn’t had sex this good in a while and the way he looked up at me in awe made it impossible to feel anything but sexy.

I didn’t even need any extra help to reach my third orgasm of the night with his name falling off my lips, the feeling so strong that my mind was absolutely blank and I saw stars dancing across the back of my eyelids as I arched into him with my eyes shut. He made sure to let me ride it out, groaning as he felt my walls tighten around him but as soon as I slumped against him he turned us around so he was on top of me, never once pulling out.

The pace at which he was chasing his own high now was relentless and hard and I would have held on for dear life if he hadn’t raised my arms to keep them above my head. One of his hands easily encased both of my wrists while he used his other to keep at least some of his weight off of me. I knew that a fourth orgasm was off the table, I was way too exhausted for that by now but he still felt amazing inside of me. I wrapped my legs around him to allow him deeper, the smack of our skin and our moans so loud that I was glad that we didn’t have any nosy roommates right next door. Those noise complaints from the neighbors I’d mentioned earlier might still roll in though.

With this pace it didn’t take long for his thrusts to lose all rhythm and I could tell that he wouldn’t last much longer. I clenched around him to bring him even closer and he groaned into the crook of my neck where he had buried his face, my name and some colorful curses falling off his lips. He readjusted his position so he could lean up enough to look at me while still holding my wrists above my head and I watched him throw his head back in pleasure as he slammed deep inside of me one last time, face contorting in pleasure as he reached his high. I could feel him pulsing inside of me and a pleasant shudder ran through me, making me sigh at the feeling. Perhaps this was my body’s way of saying girl if I could have, I would have.

He let go of my wrists then and I wrapped my arms around him as he dropped down on top of me. We both caught our breath for a few seconds which honestly wasn’t easy with the extra weight on my chest but it was a nice feeling. He had to carefully pull out and roll off of me eventually, throwing the condom next to the bed to dispose of later. For now it was nice to lay beside each other, covered in a sheen of sweat and still panting.

After finally landing back on planet earth I looked to my right at the alarm clock waiting on the nightstand, only now realizing how late it had gotten. Vince lifted his head enough to check the time as well and let out a light groan at the sight.

“You can spend the night if you want but we should definitely shower before that. Even if it wasn’t your birthday – well technically it’s not anymore – I’m not some dick that would kick you out in the middle of the night.”

I was surprised at his offer, I’d been with guys who were those dicks but I was even more surprised when he told me to pick something to sleep in from his closet before pulling on a pair of boxers and getting up to grab waters for the both of us.

I decided to postpone this until after showering, quickly making my way to his ensuite to use the toilet. I saw enough UTIs at work, I didn’t need them following me home. I was trying to wipe my make up off as best as I could with a washcloth and the face wash from his counter when he returned to his bathroom, a new toothbrush triumphantly in his hand.

“Found this in my junk drawer in the kitchen but I’ll be honest, I have no idea how it got there. The wrapping is unopened tho”, he admitted sheepishly and I laughed.

“Doesn’t matter, I’ll take it.”

Our shower was quick, both of us too exhausted for any more funny business but if my gaze had dropped from time to time appreciatively no one would ever know. He had an amazing body and I would have to be a nun not to acknowledge that.

Especially while he was naked in the shower.

I definitely wasn’t a nun.

Looking for clothes to sleep in turned out to be more difficult than I’d originally thought because of his affinity to clothes that were at least one size too big. Most of them would reach my knees in a really unflattering way and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sleep while drowning in fabric. I tried on three, neatly putting them back afterwards and actually contemplating sleeping in only a pair of his boxers before finally finding one that didn’t make me look like a kid.

I could tell that it was an old shirt, perhaps from a previous team, worn down over time with a slightly faded print but it was comfortable and it smelled like him, even if I doubted that he had worn it anytime recently.

Vince was already tucked into bed by the time I stepped back into his bedroom, scrolling through his phone but putting it down on the nightstand once I got closer. I could see that he’d searched for a second charger so I could plug my phone in overnight as well and it was such a little gesture but yet it made me smile.

“I prefer to sleep on the right side, I hope you don’t mind”, he said as I climbed under the cover beside him. I shook my head no before responding:

“Nah, I actually like the left side better.”

“See, we’re meant to be fuck buddies.”

“I could already tell from the three orgasms but hey, if that’s what it takes for you to realize that.”

“You have a point there.”

Any other time and I certainly would’ve stayed up for a while longer so we could talk but right now I knew I wouldn’t last long. For a second I wasn’t sure how to do this, would it be weird to cuddle?

Vince made my decision easy however when he pulled me close until my back was flush against him, wrapping his arm around my waist. After our exhausting shenanigans earlier it took neither of us long to fall asleep.

The next morning I woke super early, my inner clock not allowing me to sleep past seven despite staying up late. I’d turned around in my sleep to lay on my stomach but Vince had somehow managed to keep his arm around me and get even closer.

I was slightly worried for my safety because of the fact that I had managed to sleep through a 200 pound guy basically laying on top of me but I’d slept like a baby. I could tell that Vince was still asleep by the even breaths that fanned across my neck but one part of him definitely wasn’t, poking my side. Bless the male population for their sleepy boners.

I was trying to let him sleep as long as I could, I really did, but with him so close to me and the images of last night combined with the very interesting dream I’d just woken up from burned into my memory I couldn’t help myself. I slowly turned in his arms so we were back to the position we’d fell asleep in, on our sides and pressed together spooning.

Even through my shirt I could feel his body radiating heat and if the night had been warmer it definitely would’ve been too much but right now I just wished for all barriers between our bodies to disappear.

My shifting had apparently woken Vince up successfully because he let out a throaty groan before, consciously or not, rocking against my ass and burying his face in my neck.

“Morning”, he said and I’m not gonna lie his husky morning voice did things to me that didn’t exactly help my situation.

“Morning, how’d you sleep?”, I asked, turning my head slightly so I wasn’t having this conversation with his incredibly comfortable pillow.

“Could’ve been longer but I don’t mind. Now that I’m up however..”, he trailed off, lightly biting my neck and moving his hand from my waist to grab my boob, rocking into me again, this time definitely on purpose.

This was definitely a friends with benefits situation I could get behind.

Somehow Vince managed to weasel his way into my life after that. He’d come over after I finished a shift at the hospital, spend the night and leave me incredibly satisfied the next morning when both of us went our separate ways again. Our time with each other was pretty short, only a week, but somehow I’d had more sex in that one week than in the last few months combined.

My last shift at the hospital on Saturday was, for a lack of better words, sad as fuck. So many people came up to me, telling me how much they would miss me and what a great addition I had been over the past year. When they brought a cake into the break room with a sweet message written on top of it I couldn’t help the tears that welled up. I could see Rachel subtly wipe at her eyes as well and I hugged her tightly.

“Remember our first day of classes? Oh how things have changed since then”, she muttered against me and I nodded. One thing that hadn’t changed however was our friendship. She was the reason I had come to Toronto, where she had grown up but it had been five years since I left my home to go to college and I knew that it was time to go back to my family and childhood friends.

“Don’t think you’ll be getting rid of me this soon, I’ll call you all the time and with there only being a one hour time difference between Toronto and St. Louis you have no excuse to avoid me.”

“As if I could ever avoid you, you little shit. But if your hometown insists on having you back I’ll allow it, I guess.” Her insulting me told me that she was okay again so I let go of her, the both of us still sniffling a bit as we each grabbed a piece of the cake.

When I finally made my ay back home that night Vince was already there. Mariah had probably let him in. There’s been some raised eyebrows at first but after seeing him here every day neither of my roommates was surprised when he knocked at our apartment door. Somehow he seemed to sense that I wasn’t in a talking mood right now, especially about having to say goodbye to the place that had been my home for the past year.

I was excited to see my family and friends in St. Louis again, don’t get me wrong, but goodbyes were never easy.

He greeted me with one of his comforting hugs that I’d already grown accustomed to before dropping his head to press a soft kiss on the top of my head before pulling me to the bathroom.

My shampoo and other toiletries were some of the last few things that hadn’t been stuffed in boxes and duffel bags yet and the sight made tears well up in my eyes.

“It’s okay, you know. I don’t like leaving here either”, he murmured in my ear as he wrapped his arms around me from behind, moving us so we both got hit by the stream of hot water. I wanted to forget everything but the feel of his naked body pressed against me but right now I knew I was too in my head to actually be able to enjoy it. Later maybe.

“But you get to come back every summer for a couple of months. I don’t know how long it’ll take until I can visit everyone again and even then it’ll probably only be for a few days.”

“That’s true. But your friends can also visit you. And in a few weeks I’ll be down as well and then you’ll be so annoyed by me constantly bugging you that you won’t be able to miss your friends here anymore.” My sniffle turned into a laugh at his words and I almost swallowed a big gulp of water in that moment, making both of us break into fits of laughter.

I was glad I’d have him with me again in a few weeks. Hopefully at least. We’d talked about our situation and I told Vince to hit me up again once he’d made it to St. Louis too in a few weeks and while he said he would, I knew that there was the possibility that he might not. I didn’t have the opportunity to dwell on the thought too long though because he’d managed to distract me yet again when he placed searing hot kisses along my shoulder.

If he hadn’t managed to get me out of my shell back in the hospital I never would’ve ended up with him in the shower right now. Or bent over the mattress a few minutes later.

Vince Dunn, the arrogant professional athlete, had turned out to be nothing like I’d expected and I had never been more happy to be wrong.

#Vince Dunn #nhl #nhl hockey #vince dunn imagine #nhl imagine #nhl writing #my writing #clear as day #hockey imagine

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du0tine · 4 years ago

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well, fuck.

this isn’t great. frankly its horrible.

it’s never fun being suspended so high in the air with the harsh winds blowing roughly in your direction forcing you to seek shelter against the icy and snowy mixture of rock that sits atop the towering mountain.

to be honest, had it been any other day this would’ve been thrilling. being up here in harsh conditions, struggling to hold on and testing my mental and physical capabilities would’ve been so much fucking fun.

but there are days where you just imagine the rope that holds you up so high, snapping and slicing against a sharp piece of rock as you plummet to your death. the sky is the last thing you see, the butterflies in your stomach going mad from the sudden drop and you can’t help but think, “im going to die.”

most people, in this case: climbers that is, don’t want to die. they understand the risks, they know that given what they do things are bound to happen and im someone who understands that concept very well. but some of us are just so desensitized to the point that death feels like nothing, we’re used to losing team mates, friends and lovers. i just didn’t understand why i wanted for it to happen to me so much.

climbing is a large part of my life amongst other things; friends, family and other significant factors. all pieces both large and small that factor into what i call my life, something that i can’t help but be grateful for. but sometimes i realize life is fleeting. i realize just how short it is and sometimes i realize that, you know what? im okay with dying. whether it be today, tomorrow or the day after, i understand that death is inevitable and sometimes i just yearn for it to happen a little faster.

it often comes and goes, starting with tears and ending with cold, blank and rather monotone eyes gazing into the emptiness. i don’t know what it feels like exactly, the physicality is easy to understand but when i have to put into words its too hard. but it feel freezing cold, isolation hurts, solitude is pain. im all alone with nothing and no one and in fact, i do think im alone despite everything.

i just know im alone.

i have so many people in my life but it’s hard for me to understand why they’re here, it becomes difficult for me to keep them in my life. i find it hard to continue to speak with lifelong friends, keep in touch with cousins and other family. my parents and siblings (my brothers only being 3 & 5) being the only people i can speak to without feeling so choked up.

i speak to people ive met here (tumblr) but it never goes past a few conversations that occur from time to time and to those i do talk consistently with i can’t help but feel like i annoy. sometimes people reach out to me for advice, for guidance and of course, i aid them. it only pains me a little to never be asked if im okay in return but whatever right? as long as the people are happy, then im happy.

here in nepal, it’s been nice. people are nice. the way of life is one that no one takes for granted and it makes me feel out of place, like a spoiled brat who just yearns so much to escape but i try my best to just take a deep breath and indulge. the buddhist culture here makes me understand the ways of life, living alongside other climbers and watching sherpas dance to the tune of death, twisting around and just barely sneaking past almost every time.

despite how beautiful it is with the towering peaks, glaciers and fields of luscious green grass. death holds a strong presence here, one that’s covered by the tourism and clusters of climbers. but one that’s never ignored, everything being worshipped. pooja ceremonies being held for safe journeys and honouring the beautiful land, the mother of it all with offerings. mother nature is honoured and yet, she still plucks us one by one.

last year on my winter expedition i met a boy, well a man. someone who was 12 years older than me, someone i grew to have feelings for that in fact were reciprocated. despite seeming inappropriate, it was all consensual, it was positive and perfect. there was no dirty intention behind it and despite the large age gap it quickly flourished into a sweet, relationship but i found myself growing distant.

we were both sponsored by the same company which is how we met, the both of us being skiers and climbers. people who understood the dangers of venturing out into the wild, knowing what it meant to leave it all behind and pursue your wildest dreams.

he was perfect for me and yet, i broke up with him while living in nepal. i didn’t know why i did at first and it took me a lot of thinking. a lot of time being alone and realizing that throughout my whole life id been accustomed to supporting myself, knowing that there was no one else for me but me. perhaps it was the mixture of dreadful trauma id faced when i was younger, things i never told anyone, things that i only now realize just how bad they were.

regardless, the past is the past and i know i can’t let it hold me down and yet it’s just so hard to keep living when you know just how gravely you’ve been damaged. but i always tell myself that there’s someone out there who’s got it worse, someone who hasn’t stopped suffering from the day they’ve been brought into this world and until this very day.

like them i also wander the earth and yet i have an advantage, one that i should never take for granted and that being that everything that had happened, is over. i shouldn’t let it bring me down and ruin all the good things i have now.

so anyways, what lead to me ultimately breaking down was when i found myself like i mentioned before climbing upwards, fifteen pitches ahead in the air with my team around me. belayed upwards as i find myself freezing momentarily when the snow from above comes falling down, raining down on me as the wind whips me in the face.

it felt so cold, i couldn’t help but press my forehead against the wall and look downwards at my dangling feet. my hands were numb, my ice pick wedged into the snow and ice, my toes just barely warm. i just found myself observing how far away the ground was from where i hung. the distance from where i spiralled about to the ground was like how disconnected i felt from the earth. physically i am here but mentally im lost. where am i? i don’t know, maybe ill know someday? but what if i just don’t try anymore and let it all go, the place im in isn’t a bad place to die in fact, it’s beautiful.

but i can’t let myself plummet to the ground in front of people i know, i can’t traumatize them. i can’t be selfish and hurt others, id already done it once and that was to the man i loved.

pushing forwards we finished climbing, taking in the air at the top and looking down at everything. feeling like we were in fact on top of the world when really this was only one of the peaks we decided to acclimatize to in preparation for the everest/lhotse push that would happen in the next two months.

the feeling was the same as always, a feeling of satisfaction. you feel unstoppable at the top of the mountain, like there’s nothing and no one in your path and yet for the first time i felt anxious.

i felt like i was going to throw up. it didn’t feel great to be up here, i didn’t know why at that moment but when we began rappelling downwards i couldn’t help but think about how cold hearted i was for breaking up with him. there was no reason for me to do so and yet, i just did. it wasn’t right and it took me sometime to realize why. i needed to make sure i could at least put in the effort to do something.

the trek back to base camp was agonizing. i felt like i couldn’t breath properly, falling out of tune with my surroundings and just marching forwards. my team looking like blobs of colourful parkas. silently i felt myself weeping and just feeling like shit. i hated this.

it was embarrassing, i always made sure to peel myself apart and cry when there was no one around and yet here i was crying with people i knew and got to know around me. one of my leaders, who was a single mom that was a total badass in the mountains and one of the best ski mountaineer ive met (she’s also my team lead) spotted me falling apart and staggered behind to talk things out with me and i began to find comfort in consolidating in someone.

this was something i never even did with my own mother. this was the first time i looked for guidance in someone who’d lived longer than me and understood how grief, sadness and just a clusterfuck of emotions works.

with every step i took i slowly pieced the answers i needed for my puzzle piece and now here i am sitting inside my tent typing this foolish rant. my fingers lingering over the call button of the contact id for my ex boyfriend.

i think ill call him and apologize.

it’ll be a good first step.

update: things have been solved (relationship wise) but i don’t feel too good mentally nor physically. unfortunately, i received heartbreaking news that my bestfriend passed away and i feel lost. i don’t know what’s going on, what’s going to happen and i just feel guilty and pathetic. despite that comment, the less people see this the better, it’s not good energy and it’s just negatively going to affect others but i can’t dip without an explanation.

things are on a queue.

#tw: death #tw: sad shit me being a wimp.#i don’t know what else - i don’t know anything else.#mostly me opening up so yeah sorry if this drives people away.#felt like i needed to get it out so don’t read this.#will probably delete later? i don’t know.#my head hurts and im going to nap soon just need to clear my thoughts and relax.#if the words don’t add up it’s because im tired and cant see straight.#peace.

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lithaxbaby · 4 years ago

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Feminine feminism

Ever since I was a kid I rejected anything inherently female, I feel like the reasons why are pretty obvious, but I’ll divulge anyway. “Are there any strong boys in the class to help?”, “girls can’t play football with us!”, “you’re so un-ladylike!” “The boys are the doctors and the girls are the nurses”, “No! The prince saves the princess” and I’m sure we all have a lot more experiences of sexism growing up. Now I’m not saying that boys didn’t experience their fair share of sexism growing up, because they certainly have. “Boys don’t cry”, “what kind of boy doesn’t like sports”, “those toys are for girls”. And I acknowledge the fact that sexism towards young boys completely exits because the sexist remarks made to boys are at the same time, sexist to girls too, but it’s not the same vice verse. Let me explain. “Boys don’t cry” - this implies that boys are too strong to cry, but there is no such thing as “girls don’t cry”. Why? You may be asking ourself, well it’s simple really, because girls are weak and feeble, so they can cry. I am in no way saying that telling a young boy to hide his emotions is a compliment or a positive thing, because we all know the effects are detrimental, but what I am saying is even the sexist comments directed at men don’t lift women up, even though the sexist comments directed at women lift men higher than a women could ever be.

Now years later, school has ran it’s course and I’m in the big world. I’m a very confident person, I love who I am and how I look, I never went through the awkward insecure teenage phase, which is most likely down to two things. The first being my amazing family. I was never just my parents pretty daughter, there was always something specific they would pick out and describe to me how beautiful it was, so I was never insecure about my nose or my weight or anything really, because everything about me had it’s beauty described in detail growing up. The second reason sounds like a silly one, but it’s the fact that I always had boys that had crushes on me in school. I don’t seek male validation and I do everything I do for myself, but knowing that no matter if I had a back pack instead of a hand bag or if I didn’t wear make up, the boys still liked me proved to me that maybe my parents were right, I am naturally beautiful while being myself.

There is one thing I don’t like about myself though something I can’t “learn to love” as the media tells you to do, this is something I need to get rid of asap. My internalised sexism. As a child I moulded myself based on how I wanted to feel. I wanted to feel strong and fun, so I became masculine, believing that these stereotypes on women are completely true, and of course I don’t want to be a weak damsel, so therefore I’ll try my hardest to not be a girl. Ive carried that into my current life. No revealing clothes or people wont take you seriously, because they will be reminded you’re a women. I was dressing like Billie Eilish before Billie Eilish. No pink or you’ll be branded as girly AKA stupid. No hobbies like dancing, because it’s not a real sport or even a talent, it’s a boring feminine pass time. No using a napkin to wipe your face or putting a bite size amount of food in your mouth, or else you will look like you care about how you look and be branded as vein and conceded. As I got older I tried to keep playing with the boys, but it became hard. All the boys would go on bike rides, but they didn’t want a girl coming because I’d be too slow, they would play football but they didn’t want a girl playing football because I wasn’t very good and would ruin the game. Now all the boys play video games, but have you ever tried to play video games with boys? “Go make me a sandwich and stop playing on your boyfriends Xbox”, “you are so bad at this game, you obviously only play to impress boys”, and even things that they view as compliments such as “Wow, you’re really good for a girl!”. Growing up I had to deal with sexism from all the adults around me, but now it’s from people I called my friends, saying they aren’t feminists because feminists are crazy bitches, and being called “Will’s lass” (Will is my boyfriend and lass means young/teenage girl in the UK, I’m not a pirate, I promise) as if he is the human and I’m the pet. I’ve had experiences with his family members such as uncles and cousins approaching us at special occasion, look at him and say “is this your lass? she’s gorgeous” as if looking at me everywhere besides in the eyes and commenting on me like an animal or even an inanimate object is a compliment to both me and my boyfriend. My point is, no matter how I breach the universal code of conduct of how a woman should look or act, I still get treated the same way I did as a little girl.

So today I say to myself and anyone else out there feeling the same way: fuck it. Wear all that make up, use that napkin, go to that dance class, use your prettiest pink bag and wear that short skirt. These people that hold these outdated and hateful views aren’t the people you should be changing yourself for. Whether you have long hair and make up on, or short hair and look the same way you woke up, people will judge you for one simple thing and that is the thing between your legs. So show the world how sexy yet smart you are, how ladylike yet strong you are, how great your dancing is yet how many kills you can get on team deathmatch in Call of Duty. Don’t waste your time trying to get sexists of the world to decide you’re masculine enough to not be judged, be who you want to be and give them something to talk about, they’re talking anyway.

#female #feminist #real feminism #intersectional feminism #journal #journey #childhood #self improvement #girly stuff #sexism #blog post #writers on tumblr #writing #womensupportingwomen #womenempowerment #beautiful women #positive mental attitude

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smytimagine · 5 years ago

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“The Assistant” Part IV: It’s Always Been You

Warnings: swearing, smut, fluff- hints at eating issues

Word Count: 5,311

A/N: Guys I’ve gotten pretty soft on Ethan lately, what is that about?! I started this story with totally different intentions, but that seems to be changing

Sorry this took so long! I was so hesitant to post it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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The sun started to set over the horizon as I dug my toes deeper into the sand, pulling them up every so often to watch the sand run off and in between them. Lisa and Cam were walking along the beach taking in the last bit of daylight and Alyana had dragged Grayson away the minute we got here to take pictures of herself for Instagram.

I looked up from my feet and noticed Ethan sitting slightly in front of me, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees letting the sun silhouette his face perfectly. I leaned back on my hands and just admired him for a minute while he stared out at the ocean, seemingly lost in thought. I realized how selfish I was to have spent the last 24 hours agonizing over the loss of someone I never had, all the while this wonderful man was right in front of me the whole time and never wavered. He had always been there for me, since day one. My biggest cheerleader and closest friend. Sure, Grayson was there too, but things seemed like they weren’t going to always be that way with him. I started to realize that I may one day lose Ethan too. Eventually, he will get a girlfriend and I really will be just their assistant.

I reached forward and grabbed his wrist. He broke his stare and glanced back in my direction, his face lighting up when he saw me batting my eyelashes at him. Something I always did before asking him to snuggle.

“Come sit back here, I’m cold” I lied and patted the sand beside me. He knew I wasn’t cold, I had my knees tucked into the hoodie he let me borrow, with the hood pulled up over my head

He laughed and scooted back so he was sitting next to me. He wrapped his arm around me as I leaned against his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his side. We sat there in silence for a few minutes, he had returned his stare to the ocean while I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent, and the feeling of his chest rising and falling with his steady breaths.

“I don’t ever want to forget this moment E, I don’t want to wake up one day and not have you in my life,” I broke the silence as I spoke barely audibly

He pulled away slightly and lifted my chin up to look at him, concern written on his face “Why would you say that? Y/N/N I’m not going anywhere” His eyes moving back and forth between mine as he ran his thumb just under my lip

“I don’t know, I can just feel things changing. Things are going to start to change in relationships and I’m not sure where I’ll fit into all of that. Grayson made it pretty clear today that I’m his assistant, not even his friend” I replied, trying my best not to sound weak.

“Well, you are our assistant…” as he started, I moved my eyes away from his as I tried to pull my face away from his grip, I didn’t want to look at him while he agreed with Grayson.

“…but you’re so much more than that. I know you don’t ever give yourself a second thought, but you are so much more than words can express. You’re my best friend. You’re amazing. Anyone who can’t see that is stupid” he continued.

As I looked back at him, our eyes met, he leaned in and touched his forehead to mine. I had a sudden urge to kiss him but I held off. If my relationship with Grayson was strained, I wasn’t about to fuck up the only strong one I have left.

Closing his eyes he sighed as he continued “He may be my brother, but he is a complete moron for not wanting to be in my place right now,” he softly placed a peck on my forehead. I melted at the feeling as his lips lingered on my skin. I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t bring myself to just cross that line with him. Being with Ethan would be so easy. Sure, we bicker sometimes, but one of us is always crawling back to the other one with puppy eyes shortly after. I guess I was always scared to ruin something so great. I’d rather keep things the way they were now than not have him at all if it went wrong.

He took my hand and interlaced his fingers with mine, I leaned against his shoulder again as we watched the sun making its last kiss of light over the ocean.

____________

Cam POV

Mom and I had gone for a walk once we got to the beach. Sure we had beaches in New Jersey, but there was something different about California. We never passed up a chance to head to Malibu when the boys asked us to go.

The sun was just starting to set and we decided to head back towards the group before it got dark.

“Cameron is that Gray and… oh crap, what’s her name again?” Mom asked as she turned to me with a grimaced face

“Clout Chaser Barbie? Yea I think that’s them, I’d say let’s go catch up to them, but I’d really rather not” I replied looking up to where my mom was motioning.

“Yeah, well she isn’t what I would have picked for my son, but we have to play nice for Gray, he deserves our support so he knows we’ll pick him up when this falls apart”

I couldn’t help but laugh. My mom made even the nastiest comments sound sweet. We continued our walk back when I caught a glimpse of something that stopped me in my tracks, Ethan and Y/N snuggled into each other staring out at the ocean. I nudged my mom to stop and look in their direction.

“Look at that, how perfect are they?” Mom said sighing while a smile crept across her face

“Pretty perfect, but they’ll never let it go there. E wants her to be happy, even if it’s not with him.” I shrugged. Everyone knew they were perfect for each other, even if they didn’t realize it yet.

“I think he could make her happy, I think he already does. They’re just both scared of what that could change” She assured herself, leading the way back up the beach.

____________

Grayson POV

Alyana had dragged me over to the pier when we got to the beach, it was golden hour and she wanted me to take some new pictures of her for her Instagram. I have to admit, this wasn’t what I had planned when decided to come here. I wanted to spend time with my mom and sister since I only got to see them once in a while. But, here I am, watching her take her 1,000th selfie, I guess this is my life now.

Y/N had stayed up on the sand with Ethan. I have no idea what has gotten into them both, but since when does Ethan stay at Y/N’s house when she isn’t feeling well? Sure, we have brought her over soup and smoothies when she has been sick before, but never once have we ever stayed the night.

I looked around surveying the beach from the pier, trying to figure out where everyone went. I spotted Mom and Cam walking back along the water line. I scanned up the sand and found Y/N and Ethan, faces pressed together. Did they just kiss?! What the actual fuck is happening right now... A sudden sick feeling fell over me

“Hey babe, you okay?” Alyana asked barely breaking eye contact with her screen

“Oh, uh, y-yeah I think so, why?” I managed to stammer out as I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck trying to shake off the bizarre feeling.

“All of a sudden you got really pale” she replied, holding up her phone to take her next photo

“I think I’m just hungry. Maybe we should go see if everyone is ready for dinner?” I lied.

I mean it wasn’t a total lie, I’m always hungry. But to be honest, I wasn’t sure what I felt. I just witnessed my brother kiss my best friend who is also our assistant, and I hated it. Ethan and Y/N have always been super close, we all have. But he should know better than to cross that line with her. This is going to fuck everything up for us. When they break up she will leave us. Not only will we be out an assistant, but we’ll lose our best friend.

Here I was with my beautiful girlfriend, who is a model, so surely that was why I felt sick about all of this right? How irresponsible of them. A new feeling of anger replaced the sickness I had just felt as Alyana and I made our way back from the pier.

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Y/N POV

The sun had all but completely disappeared over the ocean when everyone had met back up to where Ethan and I were sitting.

Ethan stood up, brushed himself off, and then held out his hand to help me up. Just as I reached up to grab his hand, Grayson walked in between us, and I fell back onto the sand landing on my butt.

“Oh, sorry,” Grayson glanced over his shoulder, not stopping to help

“Uh, that’s cool Bro, no big deal” Ethan tried to breeze past the moment as he helped me up brushing the sand off of my back.

What the hell was that about? I thought while brushing myself off, unable to ignore the obviousness of the situation. There’s no way he didn’t see Ethan’s hand out

“Where do you guys want to eat?” Lisa asked trying to break the growing tension

“Gray and I know this great place we take Y/N all the time, we could go there?” Ethan suggested. Everyone nodded in agreement, except Grayson, who had grabbed Alyana’s hand and was practically running up the sand towards his car.

The rest of us tried to shrug it off and followed up the sand towards Ethan’s Jeep.

“Hey Gray, we’ll meet you guys there?” Ethan double-checked with Grayson before we got into separate cars.

“Yeah, whatever bro” Grayson grumbled back

I looked over at Ethan to see if he had just heard the same tone I did. He returned my look with slightly furrowed brows and a shrug

Grayson closed the passenger door after letting Alyana in, looked over at the Jeep where Ethan was opening the passenger door for me, groaned and got into his car. l couldn’t help but divert my attention over to the blue Porsche, unsure of what was up with Grayson as I climbed into the passenger seat.

“Okay does anyone know what the hell that was?!” Cam broke the silence as we drove out of the parking lot. Ethan let out a chuckle as his hand found its usual spot on my thigh, I rested my hand over his as we all shrugged and shook off the moment. If there was anything the four of us were used to, it was Grayson’s mood swings. He should be over it by the time we all arrived at the restaurant.

____________

When we got to the restaurant we had somehow arrived before Grayson and Alyana, even though we all left at the same time. We were waiting outside when a heated Grayson was hightailing it to the door with a less than happy Alyana behind him.

“Oh, shit” I whispered to Ethan

I guess he’s not over it

“I don’t think we even want to know” he replied holding the door for me to enter the restaurant, both of us oblivious to what Grayson was actually upset about.

I was so happy Ethan chose a place I was so comfortable at. We came here all the time after a long day of work. It wasn’t the fanciest place in the world, but that’s why we loved it so much.

They sat us in a semi-private room. This was something we were all used to because the twins never got to eat peacefully in public. Sure, they loved their supporters, but they also loved food. Having an uninterrupted dinner was always the preference when we could get it.

I went to sit down when a chair was pulled out for me. I looked to my left to see Ethan winking with a smirk. I sat down as he pushed it in, then took the seat beside me.

Grayson sat down across from us but did not look in our direction. I had no idea what the heck had gotten into him all of a sudden. Earlier this week we were laughing over avocado toast and now today he’s telling Ethan I’m basically just their assistant, and won’t even look at me.

We each ordered our dinner and were having a great time, laughing and catching up, Ethan Cam and I shooting our straw wrappers at each other while Grayson and Alyana pretty much ignored the rest of the table.

“Hey Gray, can you pass the rolls?” I asked.

“Do you really need to eat anymore carbs?” she spoke under her breath

The table fell silent. I mean how could it not? She wasn’t exactly whispering. I looked over at her and then back to Grayson, who sat blank-faced at the comment as if he never heard it. I don’t know what I expected. I guess I thought he wouldn’t let anyone speak to his best friend like that, but then I remembered I didn’t know what we were anymore.

“Hey, new girl. Watch your fucking mouth” A voice spoke up from the opposite end of the table. I broke my stare at Grayson to look to my right finding Cam pushing back from the table removing her napkin from her lap as Lisa grabbed her.

“It’s okay Cam, let it go” I tried to calm her down by flashing her a smile. She knew it was fake, she could always see through my bullshit, but she sat down clenching and relaxing her fists under the table. At least someone was standing up for me

Ethan grabbed the basket of rolls and handed them to me. I took them trying my best to smile in return but placed it down to the other side of me, deciding against them.

I was never one to turn down food. Whenever the boys and I went out I never hesitated to order a burger and fries and chow down. I worked extremely hard on my physique and felt like I should reward myself once in a while. Never once did I feel low about my appearance until now.

I stared down at the remainder of my fries and pushed the plate away from me, reaching for my water to satisfy any remaining hunger I had felt. I was lost in my own thoughts staring into my glass when I felt a hand wrap over my thigh. I looked to my left to find Ethan eating with his left hand but grinning about our little secret. I placed my hand on top of his, squeezing lightly. Sometimes I swear he could read my mind.

The rest of dinner was one big awkward silence. Alyana decided she would keep her mouth shut as to not mess with Cam who kept death staring her while stabbing her knife into her left over cheeseburger. I would catch Lisa smiling at Ethan and I every once in a while. It didn’t catch me totally off guard. I knew that Lisa loved how Ethan and I were together. We had both tried to make it pretty clear to her that we were just friends, but I’m not sure she had let that ship sail yet.

Grayson had spent most of the dinner staring down at his plate or shooting eye daggers at Ethan. I couldn’t figure out what his issue was. I knew he thought it was weird Ethan stayed at my place last night, but usually they never let a disagreement last this long. Is that what he’s still mad about?

I wasn’t even sure Ethan had noticed. When Ethan was eating not much else could hold his attention. The room could be in flames around him and he probably wouldn’t notice. Or maybe, he was so used to Grayson throwing temper tantrums he was just really good at ignoring them.

____________

After dinner, Ethan had invited me back to the house to hang out and relax with his mom and sister. I felt slightly weird about it because of how this evening had already gone, but I tried to never pass up a chance to hang out with Lisa and Cam since we saw them so infrequently. As we pulled up the driveway and parked, Grayson was pulling up. Alone

I flashed him an innocent smile as he got out of the car, to a stone face in return.

I followed everyone else inside, followed by Grayson who stayed silent and disappeared down the hall once we entered the house.

“Should we go sit by the fire? Try this evening again?” Ethan suggested placing his hand on my lower back to lead us outside.

____________

We had all been sitting around the fire for about an hour, our faces hurting from laughter at stories Lisa was telling of the twins as kids. Ethan and I had snuggled up on the bench under a blanket. Grayson had decided to join us shortly after we got the fire going, I figured for his mom and sister’s company. Grayson might have been hot-headed, but he was a family man. His family always came first. He used to include me in that group, but I’m not so sure now. When he didn’t stick up for me at dinner, I was pretty sure that was all that needed to be said there.

He had been checking his phone non-stop since he sat down, obviously waiting for Alyana to text him, which it would seem she hadn’t. In between glances to his phone, he would fix his stare at Ethan and me. I couldn’t figure out what he was thinking about. It almost seemed like he was staring through us. I wanted so badly to call him out on his behavior, but what was I supposed to say?

Grayson had some flings here and there over the last couple of years, but he had never had a girlfriend he considered serious enough to introduce to everyone, so I had no idea if this is just how he was going to be in a relationship. Either way, that had nothing to do with Ethan and me.

____________

Lisa had headed to bed a while ago, the rest of us thinking about doing the same.

“Well, I should probably go. If it gets any later I’ll be too tired to even drive” I said pulling the blanket off of my lap and standing up to head back inside.

“Just stay here” Ethan suggested, eyes fixated on the fire

I had stayed at the twin’s house many times after a late night, usually crashing on the couch or the guest bed, but I knew they would both be taken with their mom and sister staying there as well

“I wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep, and as much as I love Cam, she snores” I laughed looking over at Cam

“Hey! Fuck you Y/N/N!” she laughed throwing her empty cup at me

“You can stay with me.” He mumbled, breaking his glance to look over in my direction

I looked back at Ethan unsure if I had heard his suggestion correctly

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose” I asked nervously. As close as Ethan and I were, we had never shared a bed.

“Ethan, don’t be fucking stupid, she doesn’t want to sleep with you” Grayson blurted out. A look of disgust on his face.

“Grayson, don’t you need to go call your girlfriend? Your phone has been awfully quiet since we got home” Ethan pushed back

“Y/N you can either sleep on the other couch next to Cam, or you can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch. You’re not sleeping with Ethan. How stupid of an idea is that?” Grayson almost demanded throwing his hands around while he spoke.

For some reason I felt like I had to obey. Although we were all used to his moods, I found Grayson extremely intimidating, when he raised his voice, I usually listened.

“I guess I’ll take the couch then Gray... thanks for the offer though” I stammered, surprised he even addressed me directly after avoiding me all day.

He nodded looking smug about his interference.

____________

Grayson and Cam had headed to bed while Ethan and I stayed by the fire a while longer. As much as I loved everyone else, I loved these quiet moments with Ethan even more.

“Let’s play truth or dare” he spoke after a while of just listening to the fire crackle and the crickets chirping around us

“Really E? It’s just the two of us, how fun can that be?” I laughed taking another sip of my drink

“Oh, it can be really fun” he winked

“Ugh, fine you dork, you go first” I gave in, placing my drink down and waving him off

“Okay Y/N/N, truth or dare” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows

“Truth”

“Of course you’d pick truth, because you’re afraid of what my dare would be” he threw his head back and chuckled

“Oh just shut up and ask your question” I replied, though he was right. If you ever play a game of truth or dare with the Dolans, always choose truth. Those two can come up with some crazy dares.

“Okay...” He sat forward leaning on his knees “ You didn’t eat the rolls tonight at dinner because Alyana made you feel bad about yourself” he said, more matter of factually than questioning, already sure of my answer

I have to admit I was caught slightly off guard about his question. I was hoping no one had noticed that I didn’t actually take any when Ethan handed me the basket

“Ummm” I tried to come up with a lie, avoiding his strong eye contact

“Y/N... don’t lie to me” he said sharply. By his tone I could tell he was irritated, maybe not at me directly, but at the memory of dinner.

“Okay, yes I let her get to me. How was I not supposed to when Grayson just sat there with no expression, letting her talk to me like that? I kind of figured if he didn’t say anything he must agree. How is that not supposed to make me feel like shit?” I confessed, leaning my head down avoiding his judgement.

Ethan stood up from where he was sitting across from me and came over to stand in front of me. He knelt down and took my hands in his, pulling my gaze up to meet his eyes

“You are absolutely beautiful. Don’t let some clout chaser make you feel anything other than that. I love watching you eat... not in a creepy way, but you’re confident. We all know you work really hard to stay in shape. I love that you treat yourself. I don’t ever want to go out with you and have you afraid to eat. Okay?” He said calmly trying to reassure me, brushing away a stray hair that had fallen into my eyes

“...okay E” I whispered

“Promise me Y/N/N” he insisted as he furrowed his eyebrows in concern

“Okay E I promise... now please stand up. It’s my turn” I tried to change the subject. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his sincerity, but I was embarrassed at how I let that stupid girl make me feel at dinner and I’d rather forget it.

He chuckled standing up to move back to his seat. “Okay, hit me”

“Alright. Ethan, truth or dare” I knew he would pick dare. Dolan’s never turned down a dare. And to be honest, I didn’t have a truth question for him.

“Obviously dare” he replied

*phew*

“Okay, E....” I looked around the yard trying to figure out what to dare him. “I dare you to jump in the pool. With all your clothes on” I raised an eyebrow looking back at him.

He shrugged and stood up heading towards the pool. I quickly followed behind.

“It would have been better if you said naked” he laughed

I rolled my eyes, I was practically asking for that response

“But I have a request first” he added turning back around

“I’m not sure that’s how this works but what is it?” I asked

“I need a hug. I miss you” he stuck his bottom lip out trying to make me feel bad

I walked towards his open arms “You’re such a dork, how could you miss....AHHHHH” my sentence was cut off as he grabbed me and flung us both into the pool

I gasped for air when I reached the surface of the water, looking around the dark pool for Ethan but didn’t find him

“ETHAN! WHY DID YOU DO THAT! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” I yelled seemingly into the abyss as I was quickly dunked back under the water

I swam back up grabbing him in the process, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it this time

“Why did you do that!” I yelled at him laughing, slapping his wet shoulder with my heavily soaked hoodie sleeve

“It was fun!” he laughed splashing me trying to avoid another shot

“Well I don’t have a change of clothes now you ass” I scoffed looking down at my wet clothes

“Oh, because you weren’t going to raid my closet anyway?” He asked smirking, hopping out by the ledge of the pool and reaching back down to help me

“I guess you’re right, but you’re still an ass” I shrugged and reached up to let him help me out.

____________

He interlaced his wet hand with mine as we slunk as quietly as we could past Cameron through the house. We both knew if Grayson saw us dripping water all over the floor he would kill us, I prayed he would stay in his room. Odds were good he was on the phone talking sweet nothings to his stick figure girlfriend.

I giggled as Ethan flung me past him through the door way as he closed the door behind me. He took off his sopping wet shirt and then turned around to find me in a staring match with his wet half naked body

“Hey Y/N/N? You okay?” he laughed, bowing his head to try to catch my eyes

I felt my face heat up

“Uh, yeah yeah I’m good.” I tried to look away and get distracted by literally anything else.

Ethan smirked at my embarrassment “Well, I’ll probably hop in the shower, if you want you can shower after me, just pick out whatever you want from the closet while you wait” he kissed my cheek as he walked into the bathroom turning over his shoulder to add “I’m glad I can get you to blush too”

My eyes followed him into the bathroom, since when do I blush at Ethan’s body? Since when do I watch him walk away like I’ve never seen him before?

I sat down on the bed listening to him turn the shower on. Lost in my new found thoughts I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with them

Before I could even think about it I found my feet carrying me to the bathroom door. I jiggled the handle to see if it was unlocked and was happily surprised to find it was. Was he hoping I would come in?

I opened the door and found Ethan in the shower letting the water run over him. The glass shower walls left little to the imagination. He hadn’t noticed me standing there yet, so I took the moment to really admire the man in front of me as he stood under the water running his hand through his hair. He was literal perfection.

I walked over to the shower and opened the door, still clothed I moved forward and wrapped my arms under his arms and placed my hands on his chest. He brought his hands up to mine

“I was hoping you’d come” He confessed

“You wanted me to?” I asked, pecking his shoulder blade while I rested my forehead on his back

“Yes” He replied, turning to face me. His eyes stared through mine as water poured over the both of us. He lifted his hand to the side of my face and ran his thumb over my cheek. His eyes raced between mine and my lips. I opened my mouth slightly, sure of what I wanted him to do next, but unsure if he would.

He leaned in and I felt his soft lips touch mine tenderly. I kissed him back as I brought my hand up to the back of his neck pulling him down into me more. Deepening the kiss his tongue begged at my lips for entry, to which I granted, a small moan leaving my throat. He pushed me up against the wall of the shower as he reached for the hem of my sweatshirt and pulled it up over my head throwing it down in a wet heap on the shower floor.

A moan escaped my lips as he moved his mouth from mine down my neck to my breasts, heaving under his touch. I watched the water bead off of his back as he worked his way down my body leaving soft kisses in his wake. When he reached the hem of my jeans he fumbled with the button, looking up at me for approval. I nodded, leaning my head against the wall as he kissed my hip bones.

He unbuttoned my jeans and slid his hands down both sides of my hips shimmying my jeans down to the floor, leaving me in a black lacy bra and underwear.

He stood back up, returning his soft lips to mine “You are so beautiful. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this” he said

“Show me” I practically begged between kisses.

I reached around and unclasped my bra and let it fall off my arms to the floor. His hands moving to cup my breasts then moving up to pin my arms above my head as he again laid a trail of kisses down from my neck, stopping to nibble and suck gently on each nipple.

I couldn’t help but pull my now unrestrained hand down to grab into his hair. Pulling his head back slightly to make his eyes meet mine while his bottom lip still pulled against the skin of my stomach, had me aching between my legs for his touch.

He hooked his thumbs through the sides of my panties, grabbing the front between his teeth. As he took his time moving them down he kissed every new inch of exposed skin, lingering when he reached my wet core.

When my panties finally fell to the floor he stood back up forcefully lifting me by the back of my thighs to wrap my legs around his waist.

“Are you sure you want to do this” he asked, burying his head into the crook of my neck, sounding needy and desperate

“Yes, please E. I want all of you” I reassured him, digging my nails slightly into the back of his neck while the other hand clung to his back.

He aligned our bodies and entered me slowly, letting me adjust to his size. I leaned my head back against the wall, eyes rolling into the back of my head, letting a soft moan leave my throat

“Are you okay?” he asked softly

“Yes, God yes. I want you so bad E” I whined trying to push myself onto him to feel him completely.

When he pushed himself all the way in another moan left my throat, this time joined with his own gutteral grunt.

I leaned my head forward, meeting his forehead with mine as he quickened his pace moving roughly in and out, stretching me to my limit and then pulling almost all the way out before ramming in again.

I gripped his shoulders tightly as my moans and screams of his name became uncontrollable. The grunts and moans that came from him only turned me on more. He had always been so gentle with me, this side of him was so sexy.

“Ethan, I’m gonna... I’m almost there” I managed to squeak out as I neared my peak, my toes curling behind his back

“Yes baby, do it, cum for me... God you are so beautiful” He spoke between thrusts

As I I hit my peak and rolled my head back against the wall, I dug my nails into Ethan’s shoulders and tightened my core around his cock. While I rode my high he started to quicken his pace even more. I could tell he was almost there because his thrusts became sloppy and his moans became breathy and desperate.

“I’m on birth control E, I want you to fill me” I whispered in his ear between his moans. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes as he thrusted again, drawing a moan from both of us.

His body caved as he gently put my feet back on the ground and wrapped his arms around my waist, leaning his head to rest on my shoulder as he stood in front of me.

“Be with me” he finally spoke

“I am E, I’m right here” I tried reassuring him as I smoothed his wet hair back

“No, Y/N, be with me... be my girl” he lifted his head to meet my eyes, placing a soft kiss on my lips

I took a moment to just watch how the water beaded off of his eyebrow, leading its way down his face to his chest. I brought my hand up to trace the droplet with my finger. When I brought my eyes back to his I nodded.

“Is that a yes?” he asked smiling

“Yes, Ethan. I know you thought it was Grayson. But I realized today at the beach that it’s you. It’s always been you E”

He lifted me up and spun me around making me giggle before he put me down

“You don’t know how badly I wanted to hear you say that. I promise I will make you happy every day. I want to be the man you deserve” he said placing his forehead to mine, lacing his fingers into my hair at the base of my neck

“You already are Ethan”

________________

A/N: Guys I am so sorry if this sucked! I’ve been wanting to write this chapter for so long but I suck at smut!

Tag List: @graydolan12

#ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan fanfic #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fanfic #dolan twins #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins fanfic #Ethan Dolan Fluff #Ethan Dolan Smut

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intricate-oeuvre · 5 years ago

Text

On how to be deadly || Geralt of Rivia || part VII

Word count: 3.5k+ a thiccc one

Summary: Axelia is Witcher experiment herself and has gone through same harsh Trials as Geralt, but she wasn’t so lucky with the outcome. Her vision didn’t become better. Therefore, she was rendered blind in the end. And because of that, she solely uses her Witcher senses to make her ways. Only potions can give her false sense of sight for limited time.Somewhere along the way she meets the Rivian. Who’s interested to know how she’s been killing monsters and hasn’t been killed herself yet.

Warnings: heavy angst, fighting.

A/N: I HAVE HEARD YOUR VOICE, DEAR READERS, SO THE JASKIER ANGST CAN START IN NEXT CHAPTER!!!

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

A wolf is a wolf. Even in a cage. Even dressed in silk.

Both of them still were on the ground, fighting each other, when Axelia had landed a gut wrenching kick right between Geralt’s legs. Thus, sending him down on one knee.

“Oh, sweet Lord!” Jaskier winced at that, his own hands flying to cover himself.

“Should I help him?” Ciri asked as she did too wince at the unfair kick from Axelia.

“Who is she, Jaskier?” Yennefer asked before the bard could answer the first question. Yen’s eyes glued to girl’s precise movements.

“I…um… I have sworn to keep my mouth shut.” He glanced at the sorceress. Yennefer didn’t question anything else, for now, and just continued to watch.

That kick at Geralt had given Axelia window of time to recollect herself. Staying few steps in front of him, she leaned down and rested her hands on her knees. She felt angry, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She was angry at everything, more so at the witcher in front of her. She was angry at whole fucking Continent. She was done fighting with grace, ready to get hands on dirty.

“You want to go again?!” she screamed at him, flailing her hands at her sides up.

“What are you trying to prove?” Geralt grunted as he spat out some blood to his side. With a slight wince he stood up, smearing the blood off of his lips onto the back of his hand.

“That I don’t need you!” Axelia continued to scream, as she started to round him helical. The sweat that had gathered on the back of her neck, made her feel cold every time when gust of wind caught on her skin.

“Yet, here you are.” Geralt stated as he regained his fighting stance and started the rounding too.

How could he say such things? Did he not know that she couldn’t do anything about it? That whatever she chose to do, she’ll always end up wherever he is? Has he forgotten that they are soulmates? Had all these years with Yennefer, really made him forget about such things?

Axelia’s eyes turned feral and with animalistic snarl she charged at him once again. This time he had expected her action. They had trained together, after all. With step to the side in very last second, Geralt got out of her way, making her miss him entirely. But with instantaneous turn Geralt reached for her high ponytail that seemed half messy now. And with a yank back and irritated scream that was almost on boarder of painful, she was wrenched back. Her body completely thrown out of balance as her head was yanked too far back, making her land on her back on the ground with a heavy thud. Jolting all breath out of her lungs. More tears gathering in her eyes. She was sure Geralt could break her, and he will if she won’t ask him to stop. He walked closer to her, leaning over.

“Are you done?” He spat with tilt of his head, same irritation on his face as on hers. Axelia bared her bloody teeth at his upside-down form.

“Why did you follow me?!” she seethed, her nails digging in the dirt besides her.

“It works both ways, you know.” Geralt said, resting his elbow on his knee, thus leaning closer down at her. He was breathing heavily while Axelia was still trying to regain her breath which had been knocked out of her just seconds ago.

“That is: why you were drawn here is the explanation why I followed you.” He said, as his eyes glanced at his own hand that Axelia had sunk her teeth into. With painful gulp she continued staring daggers at him. Which reminded her of the knife she kept in her right boots. Planting both of her feet on the ground and bending her legs at knees she seemed done with the fight.

“I assumed that you-” Geralt caught movement with corner of his eyes. Axelia’s hand was slowly creeping along the dirt towards her boot. Geralt moved swiftly and with a stomp, firmly planted his foot on her wrist. The sudden application of force and pressure making her hand crack. Axelia hissed at him, not sure if he had broken her wrist or not.

Geralt sent her a glare and then reached for her boot to pull out the dagger hiding in there. With that ‘are you for real’ look he raised eyebrow at her.

“What? You always told to have some contingency plan.” She rolled her eyes at him. Throwing the dagger to the side, he continued on whatever he wanted to tell her before:

“As I said, before you interrupted me so vulgarly,” he applied a little bit more pressure on her wrist, making his point clear: “I believed that you knew how that soulmate banter went.” He sighed.

“I don’t know two shits about soulmates!” Axelia spat, blood flying out of her mouth as she raised head higher. Geralt narrowed his eyes at her and stepped off of her hand. With huff she cradled her hand to her chest and sat up. Her face smeared with dirt and blood, only two lines seemed clear on her face- where the tears had streamed down her cheeks from frustration. Her hair in similar state with dirt and grass in her white strands. Geralt looked matching, his hair messy with dirt and stems of grass. His face sporting similar look with all the dirt and his bloody nose.

“You’re like a savage beast.” Geralt grunted out as he looked at his bitten hand again, turning it one way and then another.

“Yeah, and you almost broke my wrist.” She grumbled and moved her hand.

“Hm.” Geralt hummed gravely.

“You’re always running. Why?” witcher asked her after brief moment of silence.

“We have spectators.” Axelia said, turning to look over her shoulder, and letting out a small hiss of pain. Her ribs most likely were bruised. For a second Geralt turned to look on their audience, but didn’t heed any more attention than that.

“Axelia.” Geralt stated her name, still waiting for her answer.

“What? What do you want me to say? Why wouldn’t I run from something that I can’t really have? From something that could have been mine, but now it isn’t? The… The… All this, whatever.” She said looking at her dirty hands.

“It’s easier to run away from you, than to be reminded of all the what ifs.” She sighed looking up at him.

“I really am a failed experiment.” She groaned laying back on the ground and staring in the grey clouds, still holding her wrist to her chest.

“Stop that.” Geralt advised. Her eyes briefly flickered to him, questioning burning in her eyes.

“You’re doubting yourself again, stop that.” Geralt explained to her. She just let out half-amused chuckled at that, seeing no true humour in it. Truth be told, Geralt was and still is the only one who ever believed in her, in all the things she did, all the things she pursued. Maybe the only thing he didn’t believe, was her pursuit in soulmates.

“Aren’t you in the position to talk.” Axelia started cynically. “You have love of your life, and she has you… Odd triangle, if you ask me.” She rolled her eyes and finally pulled herself up.

“I must leave, Geralt.” She said turning to him, her eyes momentarily jumping behind him, where one in the distance could see those three on-watchers.

“That’s her. With the dark hair, isn’t it?” she asked, slightly distracted.

“Yes.”

“And that’s… law of surprise child, Ciri…” she trailed off in her observations.

“Yes, and the third is the bard.” Geralt said with slight annoyance in his voice. Axelia’s eyes flickered back to Geralt’s face, her eyebrows furrowing. Without any other words, she turned and started to walk away. Feeling that she should finally give up on her love life. Even if it meant to lie to her own heart every time, she’ll ever stumble upon the witcher. It’s taking toll on her, nor her body, nor her mind and nor her heart could take any more damage.

“To whom are you trying to prove that?” Geralt asked in reminiscence on previous talk, when he didn’t find anything else to say to her to stop her from leaving. Axelia stopped and turned around to look at him.

“Myself.” She said determined about her answer, but it soon that feling disappeared: “I thought that I will prove it today. But then you decided to follow me. And ruin my self-restrain.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to stay away from you, whenever I learn that you are near. It’s like you have this magnetic pull that I can’t resist. My body is ready to go through such dreadful lengths just to bask in your presence. Does that make me clingy or weak? It does, but in that moment, I do not give a single flying fuck. Because that’s how soulmates work, Geralt. You asked me if I know. And I do. I have visited too many mages and sorcerers, just to get rid of all these connections and feelings. Even tried to find a fucking djinn, can you believe?” Axelia started her monologue. Back in Kaer Morhen she always was the one who felt most emotions.

“I want to start o'er so much.” She said quietly to herself, tears of desperation gathering in her eyes. Looking up at the sky, she tried to will them away.

“See? You always have my emotions fucked up.” She smiled at him through tears in her eyes. She was so deep in woods of emotions, and right now, all she wanted was to get into the clear and get rid of everything.

Geralt stood up straighter, about to take a step closer to her. But at the moment she seemed like scared animal, and with shake of her head, she took a step back. Geralt hated to see her cry. She was such of strong woman, such a fierce warrior that could be broken and beaten to the pulp, but she still would stand up and fight, and when she was crying, it meant that she was truly and utterly broken. Not only physically but also mentally.

“Axelia.” Geralt said quietly, cautiously stretching one hand in front of him, showing that he didn’t mean harm.

“Geralt.” Axelia chocked out in same manner. How did she turn from blood spitting fighter into this soft, trembling creature, was beyond Geralt’s apprehension? Did all these years, so far and yet so close to each other, left her in this state of half breaking? This reminded him when they both went through Trials of Dreams where they were going through mutations to improve their vision. He remembered all the screams, grunts and moans of pain as mutations took effect. And when the pain had ended came the clairvoyance. This epiphany type of feeling when one could see in the clearest way, catching every single dust particle in air. He had smelled that velvet rose and sandalwood in the air, signifying that he was still alive. But the utmost silence coming from besides him, where on the other table was supposedly Axelia, made dread settle deep in his gut

“Axelia?” he had questioned her silence as his eyes fell upon her face, the first thing he had the chance to see when he reopened his eyes after all that agonizing pain. And her face had looked like it did now. Full with cruel hurt, tears streaming down her face, as her mouth was half-open in silent scream.

“Geralt?” she had asked, voice trembling, her whole being shaking. The first thing he saw with his new eyes that he had gained through pain, was even more pain. On the face of a girl that was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen; on a person he loves and cares for.

“Geralt? Is everything alright?” Both of them could hear Yennefer’s voice closer. Geralt looked over his shoulder and Axelia looked past him, both of them noticing that all three of them had advanced closer. Yennefer and Ciri quite bravely walking closer, while Jaskier walked behind them – latter knowing better than to interfere.

“I’m dying a little every time I see you with her.” Axelia dried her nose in her sleeve as her eyes turned back to him. But she couldn’t stop them from flicking back to Yennefer and Ciri who still came closer, wanting to know what was going on.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Ciri looked from Geralt to the girl that was in front of them- crying, trembling and holding her injured wrist in her hand close to her heart.

Axelia’s eyes were skipping from one person to another. Too many eyes looking at her, while she was crying and being weak. She was witcher, Geralt never was like that. Her eyes stopped at the sword and dagger that were now in Ciri’s hands. Fuck that, she’ll live without that silver sword for some time. It was very expensive, but she’ll manage. Then her eyes flickered to Yennefer, who was looking at her with confusion. Then to Geralt who’s expression she couldn’t read. Back to Ciri who looked upon the crying girl with sympathy and concern. And in the end her eyes caught on her cloak that Jaskier was holding and her blindfold that was wrapped around his other arm in nonchalant way. It was such contrast, the black fabric with his dark blueish outfit. Axelia’s teary eyes flashed up to meet his. Only apologetic look gracing his features. She-witcher felt so bad and useless at the moment. She awkwardly looked down at the ground and with sob looked up. At no one in particular, somewhere above everybody’s heads. With her tongue running along the front of her teeth, Axelia turned around and went into the forest. Her only escape.

And she run.

And run. The only thing that she knew how to do.

No one followed her, but their eyes collectively turned to Geralt, who was still staring at the forest trees.

“Really, Geralt?” Jaskier questioned, his brows furrowing.

“What did you do?” Ciri asked, her eyes flickering to the woods for a second until returning to Geralt.

“Which time is it? The fourth or something, that you just let her leave like that?” Jaskier continued.

Witcher didn’t answer. And Yennefer didn’t seem happy either.

“I do hope someone will explain all of this.” She said tad annoyed. With slight anger bubbling in her eyes she looked at Jaskier then at Ciri and finally at Geralt. With a grunt witcher turned around and went back to the city, Yennefer hot on his heels and not shutting up about this whole ordeal.

“Dandelion, are you coming?” Ciri asked as she was already walking towards the forest. Jaskier looked at the cloak and tulle fabric in his hands and then looked up at Ciri.

“Are you sure, you can find her?” Jaskier furrowed his brows while catching up with Ciri.

“Geralt thought me, of course I can.” Ciri rolled her eyes playfully and walked along the road that led into the forest.

They had been walking for some time.

“So, who is she?” Ciri asked.

“To me or to Geralt?” Jaskier asked, rearranging his grip on the dark cloak.

“Oh, so she is something to you too?!” Ciri stopped for a second. Geralt once or twice had mentioned something about soulmates and the fact the he had one too. And Ciri today had made a bet with herself that the girl from earlier must have some connections to Geralt, mostly likely this all soulmates thing.

“She is his soulmate, right?” Ciri guessed, glancing down at the sword in her hands.

“Yep.” Jaskier popped the p. Then he explained everything that Geralt had let him know about Axelia, but keeping the details that she herself had told him, to himself.

Meanwhile Axelia was running on the road, hair already fallen out of that messed up ponytail. Her ears catching the sound of stream somewhere on her right. Deep in the woods, off the road. Everything was closing in and she needed to escape. Taking a sharp turn, she dodged into the woods, not following road anymore. She was running, trees scratching her face, her feet stumbling on the fallen tree branches. Her lungs were burning, and her hands started to claw at her corset. With scream of anger she pulled open the string that laced it together at the front. With half-revealed hiss, she threw corset away, her hands latching onto her forearm braces and ridding herself from them too. Unbuttoning first four buttons from the top of her shirt, she leaned against nearby tree. Tears choking her and not letting her take a deep breath of air. She sunk to the ground. Letting out a silent scream as her hands clawed at ground, her nails digging through dead leaves and dirt. She was drowning in her own tears. Breathes just coming out in broken sobs as she tried to pull in new air with choked wheezes. Everything hurt so much, that she couldn’t even stand up anymore. Her mind was worsening her, playing sweet and cherished memories before her blind eyes. She didn’t want to remember anything! She just wanted to be swallowed up by the sound of the stream that was couple feet in front of her.

“No! Stop!” she screamed at herself, her dirty nails now digging in her long hair, and pulling at the tress with such force that her face was pulled up in even more agony. Her thoughts were running circles with unwanted memories. At times, at such quantity that she was ready to run in a tree head first, and just bash her head against it until she won’t feel a thing anymore. She broke, bruised and completely alone.

***

“Why aren’t we staying on the road?” Jaskier asked, as he and Ciri were now in middle of woods and not on a trusty path anymore.

“Because she went this way.” Ciri noted as she looked at all the freshly broken branches and footprints left from Axelia’s stumbles.

“Is this hers?” Ciri asked picking up Axelia’s corset.

“And those are her vambraces...?” Jaskier nodded towards the dark forearm braces that were thrown on the ground further ahead. One further than the other. Beckoning towards Axelia’s whereabouts.

“She mostly likely is at the river.” Ciri concluded.

“Let’s hope she’s not trying to drown herself.” Jaskier mumbled walking onward.

Axelia heard them before anything else. Silent whispers flowing in the wind. And part of her told her to get up and run. But all she could manage to do was sit up against the big tree.

“Oh, please, no…” She mumbled as her tears now were silent. Occasional sob escaping her. She clumped her mouth shut, to shut herself up. Her legs were drawn to her torso, and her chin tilted down towards her chest. With fear she was waiting for the scent to finally reach her. And when she felt it, more panic settled in. At first, she felt rich fragrance, something akin to wild berries, very refined. But her panic subsided a little, when a familiar scent hit her senses. Her head immediately snapped up, her eyes welling up even more. It was familiar, but not familiar in a way that could make her run away again. It was scent that reminded her of the times when she needed someone to resort in, someone she could rely on and talk freely to. Not hiding her emotions, not keeping up the perfect witcher image. She had needed trusty ears, who would listen and not judge her. Someone who could give her false shelter from outside world and her own emotions. Even if it was for a little moment.

Then she heard the sound of two pairs of feet stepping through the dry leaves. The sound of crunching making her feel like scared animal, who is waiting for the predator to finally strike. The gentle breeze of wind, made the two scents more prominent. The second scent making her risk all of it and glance around the big tree trunk. She carefully putted her hand on the ground and with one eye she peered behind the tree. Her eyes scanned over the trees, firstly catching on the white-haired girl, that was saying something, her eyes glued on the ground in front of her feet. Then her eyes zeroed onto the second person.

Jaskier was the first of two who noticed Axelia hiding behind a tree. With small gasp he slowed his steps. Trying to show to the hurt girl, that he meant no harm. At that Ciri noticed her too, and stopped all together, not wanting to make the girl feel threatened.

“Axelia?” Jaskier questioned her, still slowly approaching her. Axelia’s eyes locked with his at the call of her name.

“Jaskier…” Axelia choked as she quickly pushed herself up. Pushing off of a tree she run to him, crushing in his chest as tears stared falling down her cheeks again, staining his shirt. Praying that she could just wish all this away.

“I’m here.” He mumbled in her hair, his eyes briefly flicking to Ciri, who only held all the sympathy for the girl in Jaskier’s arms.

~~~~

part I || part II || part III || part IV || part V || part VI || part VII || part VIII || part IX || part X || part XI || part XII || part XIII | Epilogue

tags:

@boiled-onionrings @fandomwithnolifesblog @901seconds @kingniazx @shesakillerkween @your-dreams-are-strong @stitchattacks @ayamenimthiriel @stormfire6 @mr-illegal-king @stretchkingblog97 @mikariell95 @geralt-of-motherfucking-rivia @martian-m @republicansithlord @notso-fetch @lizliz3107 @godlydolans @arsaky-lou @eternallyvenus @le-reina-asesina @alwayshave-faith @writingmi @staringmoony @kenai731 @holychic @dramaticturnaway @ihopeyousteponarosepetal @seouldesire @runs-with-sciss0rs @yes-captainstark @fandomhell97 @newtdisneywho

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 4 years ago

Text

My laptop is currently updating, so while I have that working in the background, I wanted to share a series of six short, mostly-opera-inspired autobiographical narratives/prose poems I wrote last April and May:

I would kill to have some wine right now.

There is a bottle of red wine sitting on the kitchen counter. My father bought it when he went to the store the other day─ don’t ask me what day it was, I don’t remember, the days already blend together as is─ and I have considered pouring even just a little bit into a glass and downing it.

And then proceeding to throw the glass against the wall and shatter it.

I’ve been contemplating doing that a lot lately.

True, I would kill to have some wine, but if I did go ahead and pour even just a little bit into a glass, and down it, and possibly then proceed to throw the glass against the wall and shatter it, I would most likely be killed before I had the chance to kill.

Kill or be killed. We are all trying our very best to do neither these days, but it happens anyway.

I am sixteen years old. As I start writing this, I am nine days away from turning seventeen. For me, alcohol consumption is thus not only not approved by the Parents, but also illegal. But then again, so is voting blue in the 2020 US Presidential election. That is also something neither approved by the Parents nor legal for me. But I digress.

Thirty-one, twenty-nine, thirty-one again, sixteen now, that makes sixty, ninety-one, one hundred and seven days since I watched one of my classmates get drunk at a New Year’s Eve party. She downed a whole bottle of peach wine (I didn’t even know that was a thing) and looked at me with her red eyes and silver-sequined halter top and curly dark brown hair in a high ponytail. You’re more beautiful than Jesus she told me and you’ll go to the moon on a rocketship. I laughed.

I laugh when something’s so unexpected I can’t do anything else. I laughed when I first heard Notre Dame Cathedral had caught fire because it seemed so ludicrous that I couldn’t do anything else. Notre Dame on fire? You can’t be serious, it can’t be serious.

It was serious.

I’m not sure if she was.

A little part of me wishes she were.

When I was in sixth grade, I told the same girl I thought her hair was luscious. Sixth-grade me didn’t know the word had a sexual connotation; the girl did and was offended.

Maybe a little part of me did know, somehow.

***

As I write this next part, I am working on a paper about state-sponsored censorship. I have picked this topic because it is a fascinating topic, it fits the requirements for the paper─ write about a major global problem─, and because I feel censored myself.

Expressing anything that conflicts with the Parents’ thoughts and opinions is strictly forbidden. If you are different, you are ostracized. I am different, so I am ostracized.

I am too proud, too strong to succumb. But it still hurts.

As I write this, I am listening to Act IV of Rossini’s Guillaume Tell, an opera about liberation, appropriate for both me and my paper. At this moment, Hedwige is calling on God, ‘the hope of the hopeless’, to save her husband and break the yoke of oppression that binds Switzerland.

It’s very nice, and the sentiment is good and true, and it works for her and Mathilde and Jemmy and the Swiss women, but it does not work for me. I lost my faith a long time ago. Ironically, it is French grand opéra, the genre to which Guillaume Tell belongs, that is partially responsible for my loss of faith.

It was impossible for me to watch Verdi’s Don Carlos for the first time in eighth grade and Meyerbeer’s Les Huguenots in tenth and not be horrified by the things people do in the name of religion, to kill people senselessly just because they believe slightly differently than them─ even their own daughters (as is the finale of Les Huguenots).

How can a good God allow such things?

Do I realize these works are fictional? Yes. But do I know they are based on history, on real events? Yes.

“These things are meant to happen; they are all in God’s plan.” Well, can God just not find another way to make what’s meant to happen happen? I cannot believe in a God that allows these things to happen. To say that an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good God who can allow such things exists is a lie.

***

Now that Guillaume Tell is over, I am listening to another grand opéra, Les vepres siciliennes, albeit in its Italian version, I vespri siciliani. Another opera about occupation and liberation, but a liberation that comes at a horrible cost: the entire French ruling class is massacred by the Sicilians at the end of the opera.

If I didn’t care, I would stage my own personal ‘massacre’: I would turn my back, walk out the front door with the possessions I most needed to survive on my own, and never come back.

But I do care. They may not care, but I do.

One of my greatest curses is that I care about what I care about too much. My heart is too deep to not care.

There are some battles that are not worth being fought.

If a massacre is your only recourse to accomplish something, perhaps you should not do that thing. Or, at least try to find another way.

Right now, I am at the beginning of Act III, at Monforte’s aria “In braccio alle dovizie”. In the original French, it’s called “Au sein de la puissance”. At the breast of power.

Monforte is the hated French governor of Sicily, the revolutionaries’ primary target. When he sings this, he has just learned that one of the main revolutionaries, Arrigo, is his long-lost illegitimate son.

By rape.

‘The breast of power’ indeed.

Just like with a massacre, if rape is your only recourse to accomplish something, perhaps you should not do that thing either.

Just a thought.

I’m a woman. What do I know, in the eyes of many out there?

One of my friends said that Verdi gave Monforte his just deserts, but also overly beautiful music. “He couldn’t help it, though, not when his Dad Music Instincts were activated.”

I feel guilty listening to the aria, even though it is truly a beautiful piece and the recording I’m listening to─ a 1989 recording from the Teatro alla Scala, with Giorgio Zancanaro as Monforte─ is absolutely gorgeous.

Can we separate the music from the character, the art from the artist? I do not know. Everyone has something utterly heinous to someone else. Once we stop separating the art from the artist, where do we begin again? And yet, I do not want to support people who do horrible things to others.

Perhaps it is all relative.

Perhaps everything is.

Perhaps nothing is absolute at all.

That frightens me.

***

Today is Rome’s 2,773rd birthday. As a six-year Latin student and future classics and history double-major, this is cause for celebration.

If things were normal and I were at school, my Latin teacher would bring birthday cake for all the Latin students, and we’d eat it and sing “Felix dies natalis, Roma”. Happy Birthday, Rome.

But things are not normal, and I’m at home multitasking between this and a presentation script for that paper, and still listening to I vespri siciliani.

Now I’m at the end of Act IV. Everyone is celebrating the impending marriage of Arrigo to Duchess Elena, one of the Sicilian revolutionary leaders. Sicilian and French, united at last. Everything is set to work out.

But there’s still Giovanni da Procida, the other major revolutionary leader, who is hellbent on revenge. He sees this wedding as the perfect opportunity to strike down the French once and for all.

And thus, the massacre.

Everything can be set to work out, but there is always something that comes up. A massacre, a pandemic, a set of internal troubles that bring a proud empire to its ruin.

Now I’m in Act V, at Elena’s bolero ‘Merce, dilette amiche’. She has no idea about Procida’s plans; she’s just excited to marry Arrigo and bring peace to her beloved Sicily at last. I think I’m going to change operas again after this is over; the act is rather uneven (though I still very much like it) and I would prefer not to listen to everything falling apart today.

I debate listening to Berlioz’s Les Troyens, the closest thing to an opera about the founding of Rome and a masterpiece itself. But there is still too much about collateral damage for my tastes today: one kingdom falls and another loses its benevolent queen, all in the name of a supposedly greater destiny. And that’s just based on the first third of the Aeneid. I wrote an essay about that first third once for English class, using that thesis; my English teacher said it was one of the best essays he’d ever read. But I digress.

After a quick refresher on the synopsis, I decide to change styles and go with a story from the heyday of the Roman Empire: Handel’s Agrippina. Lots of plotting, but everyone gets what they want in the end and it ends happily for all. No collateral damage here. I am weary of that.

Sometimes I feel like collateral damage.

It’s tough to remember that you’re the master of your own story, not just a side character or a scapegoat in so many others’.

Everyone in this opera knows they’re the masters. That’s the problem. But it ultimately works out.

I want nothing more than for it to work out for me. It hasn’t yet.

But I have a feeling it will.

***

I got maybe halfway through the first act of Agrippina yesterday. I love Baroque opera, but I guess only in small doses.

No matter.

Today I’m listening to the beginning of Act II of Verdi’s Don Carlo. This is the fourth time in a row I’ve listened to it.

I read John Green’s Turtles All The Way Down recently. The main character frequently finds herself stuck in ‘thought spirals’, where she keeps thinking more and more about the same thing. I have those too, although I tend to picture my mind more as a bullet train: it always moves hundreds of miles an hour, faster than I can control, from one thought to the next. I constantly find myself retracing the figurative map of my mind to figure out what I was thinking about, what I need to remember but simply cannot. And it’s like my mind keeps returning to the same stations a lot; these are my equivalent to the spirals.

This opera, this moment, is one of my frequent stations.

Make that five times in a row now. This will be the last, I promise myself.

In this scene, a group of monks chant, praying for the rest of the dead Emperor Charles V, whom, I note with a smile, was himself a character in one of Verdi’s earliest operas, Ernani. In that opera, he sings an aria where he confronts his destiny as the next Holy Roman Emperor. My legacy will live throughout the ages, he sings.

Including in two different Verdi operas.

But there I go again on another bullet-train route.

The monks are singing now, their stark minor-major shifts making me feel as if I am there, in the cloister of San Yuste or in any of the great cathedrals of Spain, looking up into the vaults of the ceiling, of heaven itself, seemingly. The only lights come from candles in my mental picture, and I gaze up, my head uncovered, my mind only partially spellbound, more by the visual beauty and the history than by any religious feeling.

I am a heathen.

I have only been inside a Catholic church once, when I was fourteen; it was an impromptu side trip during a school-sponsored tour of colleges in St. Louis. One of the chaperones said the Cathedral Basilica had can’t-miss art, and thus managed to get a large section of the attendees to come with her.

She was right. It was one of the most beautiful places I’d ever seen. And that was all I thought.

Okay, that’s a lie. I did wonder what it would be like to be able to have faith again, to be able to kneel in one of the pews, and pray, and believe, as my ancestors have done before me; after all, if religion were something you inherited in your blood, then I would be half-Catholic.

But I cannot kneel and pray and believe.

In this scene, one of the monks claims that Charles V fell because he was too proud, because he believed that he was greater than God. If a god exists, I do not claim to be greater than them. I am not perfect, not by a long shot.

He did not die because he did not believe in God. He died because everyone dies, even those who are supposedly the greatest of us.

God alone is great, the monk proclaims. I do not, cannot believe that. We are all great to begin with, but some of us are led to believe we are not.

We are the masters. I must remember that.

And I realize that I have let it play a sixth time.

Sometimes I am not the master of my own mind.

***

The sixth time was the last.

Now I am at the end of the act, listening to the showdown between Filippo II, King of Spain, and Rodrigo, Marquis di Posa. Filippo is the guardian of the way things are; Verdi called Rodrigo an anachronism, and indeed, he was the only principal character who never existed.

Rodrigo, he said, was at least two centuries ahead of his time.

I don’t know what exactly Verdi’s feelings were about this, but personally, I do not think this is a bad thing. Progressivism is often progressivism in any age.

At any rate, Rodrigo, who has recently returned from Spanish-held Flanders, has taken his chance─ a rare private meeting with the King, who is confused as to why Rodrigo has never approached him for favors like all the other courtiers─ to confront him about the horrific conditions of Flanders and its people. Give them liberty, he pleads.

No. I have given them the same peace I have given Spain.

A horrible peace!, Rodrigo fires back. The peace of the tomb!

We should not have to suffer until death.

Let history not say of you, “He was a Nero.” A murderer of innocents, a torturer of the defenseless, an occupier, a denier of liberty─ perhaps the greatest torture of all.

I once watched a video in which a director said, “To live in an occupied country is to live only half a life.” I would say that to live in an occupied country, or even any place where you cannot be free, cannot live fully as yourself, is not even that. It is to barely live at all. It is to merely have a beating heart and breath.

To live in spite of this, to simply be as you wish, is the ultimate act of defiance.

#notyouraveragejulie writes #(or rather reads old writing)#writing #poetry #poems #prose poems #autobiographical narratives #life in the time of COVID #opera #opera tag #censorship #freedom #also the author would like to note that this was written *before* she saw Agrippina and loved it so those comments aren't 100% accurate now

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calypsoff · 4 years ago

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Nineteen. Part 3

Mel has been passing off glares to me every so often and then goes back to reading her phone, she loves me but hates me at the same time, I think it’s more love than anything “so” here she goes again “I am listening” clasping my hands together “we need to leave for the flight that leaves at eleven, meanwhile you’re hooked up to a IV line when we didn’t even come for that in the first place, you know what. I am glad we came but I am just feeling a lot of mixed emotions. I know you; I saw you, I watched you” putting my hand up, I don’t want to hear it “then who’s fault is it? You’re dehydrated, your sugars are low. All you kept doing is sleep, food was a no. I am not shocked” licking my top lip looking down “I am not going to say anything else, but we do need to go before people start wondering, Noella text me saying did I kidnap you. I think your man is on a warpath and woke poor Noella up” staring at my hands, I am feeling very numb to a lot of things right now. I have had the doctor poke and prod me to find out what is happening, blood tests and now I am waiting. The first blood test didn’t come out well enough, it just showed really that my sugars were low, so they hooked me onto this thing and took another set of blood, so I am waiting for the results “how do you feel? Inside right now, you know your own body” looking up from my hands and at Mel, shaking my head feeling my tears forming “the doctor said you can bleed?” Mel is right I know my own body and I just know “you didn’t see what I saw, it was abnormal. First of my period was late, I should have acted from that moment, but I didn’t because my schedule clashed at the same time, I was so busy, you can judge me all you want but me, I was in pain and I still stood there and performed” I did what I had to do and neglected myself “and cried” she added, taking in a sharp breath. I am not going to cry, a knock at the door “it’s just me” my doctor walked in.

He held the folder up “we have results finally, I must add Miss Fenty. You need a good rest, I suggest for you to stay here for a day” watching him sit down “I have a performance today in California, I have to go” I said in whisper, he looked at me in such sadness and I kind of knew. It’s not good news, the sadness in his eyes “I would suggest cancel, I can only suggest but you need to rest, and I think it will be good for you to cancel too, for your own mental health” I don’t need his advice, I can’t just cancel “so I have the results with me, so in your blood we found a high level of HCG which that indicates a baby, HCG is made earlier in the pregnancy to form the placenta” he looked down at his papers “then we did the vaginal ultrasound so we can get a clear picture of what is happening” a tear fell “there is no baby right?” the doctor swallowed hard “we need to give it forty eight hours and so another blood test, the HCG levels will have lowered by then. I am sorry Miss Fenty, from your description of the bleeding and what you saw, it was in the first trimester” I swallowed back the sob “this was my fault, I get it. So I am going through a miscarriage?” I refuse to cry, I am not going to do it “yes, the tissue will pass out naturally. The pain you are feeling is from the miscarriage” a sob left my lips, but I am not going to do it “thank you” I managed to say “I will give you some time, I will be back” nodding my head.

Mel held my hand “I am crying for you, why aren’t you crying? Robyn don’t keep it in, I know I was angry about this baby thing because I thought it was wrong, the timing was off but now I am scared as fuck, I was so scared it was this when you were telling me. Oh god, I am so sorry” squeezing onto her hand “I cried already, I cried when I was on that stage. I mourned something I never really knew I had but felt it, I am so stupid” shaking my head “uh, now I can never hear you sing Stay the same, when you was crying I assumed you felt overwhelmed by it all but not that, not this. Oh Robyn, I am so sorry” she needs to stop being so kind, I am stupid “I need to leave this hospital and go back to the hotel, I am going to do the VMAs” Mel stared at me in sadness, everyone is sad for me but me, I am not feeling me right now “are you not going to tell Chris? It’s important” shaking my head “I am not ready to tell Chris, to hear him say stupid things. I am not ready for that, I wasn’t even ready to tell him about if I was, we still need to speak on what happened to us earlier on in the tour, but I go back normal and I am going to tell him that I needed some time away, I wasn’t feeling too good but I am now, I think he is going Texas so yeah” Mel shook her head “you’re dealing with it wrong Robyn but I can’t speak to you like this, closed off” if she knows I am she should just let me be.

Robyn hasn’t come back at all. So I decided to eat breakfast with her family, it’s wack. We all pretty much remained silent because they know I am so pissed; I am angry that she has done that. And apparently nobody knows where she is, to me that makes no sense “are you coming to California with us Chris?” Monica asked me, she is breaking the silence, but I won’t be rude to Monica at all “no, I am going to Texas. I think I miss my bed” I laughed “that is a shame, when is your flight?” Noella questioned “soon, I am just seeing when the girl I am dating is coming back. I am not happy you see, like if I went missing I know how angry Robyn would be. It’s not on, I am defeated, and I rather just go. It’s like she is doing it on purpose, we are due for an argument” Rorrey sighed out on my behalf “hey family” oh she is back, she is back now. I am even more angry; I turned my head in annoyance “are we all ok?” I can’t even deal “Robyn Fenty, where have you been? We have been concerned!?” Monica shouted at her “mommy I need some room to breathe, I am ok. I am back now” rubbing my chin feeling my blood boil, how can she just smoothly come back like nothing happened, like nothing occurred “uh Chris” I stifled out a yawn looking over at her “can I talk to you” getting up from the seat “I hope you both don’t argue” Monica said, walking by Robyn in a huff. She is all happy thinking it’s all good and well.

Mel continues to just be here, like I don’t get why Mel is stuck to her hip “what you think I am going to do? Why is she here?” I pointed at Mel “pipe down, I am going to the room” Mel walked by me “be nice to my friend” sitting down in a huff, be nice to her “I am sorry, I went missing” I am actually very angry “sorry for going missing! I was worried sick about you Robyn; I was thinking all sorts of things. I was thinking what is happening, what has gone wrong with you. Why, I thought something bad happened but then realised you just played in my face, you just kept making me go and went running with Mel. You’re treating me stupid; you and your family are. They know something, they know what you are doing but not telling, tell me what the fuck was you doing!? If that was me you would be making sure you caused fucking hell so don’t give me that” I am pissed, I can’t even care to hear what she has to say but I guess I have no choice “I am sorry Chris, I swear I am. I had to just have some time to me, I felt not me so I am sorry. I should have said it, but I didn’t want you to crowd around me” I sniggered “right, we ain’t going to work. I don’t see it, you have yet to apologise for how shit of a person you have been to me! You have been so shit to me, treated me like shit. I don’t care what anyone says, there is always time to text, I don’t think you care for me like you say, you really are a terrible person” glaring at her, she thinks she has been a good person and has been hard done by but she hasn’t.

“You literally shouted at me on the plane because of your mistake! Your mistake, you left me there and then you shout at me. You been nothing but an ass to me, I ain’t with you for your status and I certainly won’t kiss your ass Rihanna. Go to the club Chris I will meet you there, you think I am stupid. You and Mel, you didn’t want me to crowd around you? I am the same nigga that wouldn’t have come to the tour, I did it for you. While you were crawling up those stairs backstage it was me carrying you, I am not your fucking clown” getting up from the couch “hurry up, what you got to say? I am going? Unless we are having sex, I am gone” Robyn shook her head “no we won’t be having sex and I am damn well sure won’t be wanting it, I can only apologise” is she real “is that it?” I questioned, that can’t be it. She went missing and she is giving me nothing “I am sorry” she said it again “save it!” I shouted “just save it, I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to be in this sick game you’re playing Rihanna. I am going back to Texas, I think you and I need to just stop this before we end up not being friends, I rather not ruin that. Whatever we have left of it” if she doesn’t start speaking then I am out, I want her to tell me where she went. It seems so fucking weird to me; she could be cheating for all I know. Robyn is staring at me like I am dumb “I am going to leave this room, once I leave then I am going to take it as we’re over?” it’s like I am speaking to somebody that is not with me “I have been a terrible person to you Chris so I get it” she is unbelievable “take care Robyn” I can’t take this shit, like this up and down shit. I want her to say something more productive, better yet fight for me.

I was of course going to brush my teeth and stuff before leaving, I just don’t get Robyn at all. Pulling at my suitcase to the lobby “you don’t have to break up with her, just give her time” who is Mel, she doesn’t know shit “you are for Robyn, of course you’re going to say that. I am not leaving her; she is letting me go. Difference there, I am not having Rihanna have me on strings like a puppet. I am not that kind of dude and she knows that. You know something, of course you do but you ain’t speaking so fuck it” these two are up to no good shit and it’s annoying “all I am saying is give her time” pulling at my suitcase leaving, Robyn had the fucking chance to come to me and stop me. To actually tell me what the fuck she doing, staring at Robyn sat down “I am sorry” that is all she says “so am I” I can’t do this shit, she has been treating me like dirt and then thinks I will allow her to get away with it. She can be Rihanna happily on her own.

#Chrianna FF #Chrianna #Chrianna Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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sleepless-streetss · 4 years ago

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Today I completed my first open water swim. Technically it wasn’t a long one, but it’s the first time I’ve swam in a setting that wasn’t a pool. It was freezing, but I pushed through because I really, really wanted to prove to myself I could. I had been planning on doing this, I just had hoped it would be a little warmer outside (it was 45 degrees outside this morning). Still, I dove straight into the water and swam until I felt I needed to float, floated for a while and looked at the sky, relaxing into the beauty of nature and turned around and swam back. I was freezing dragging myself out of that water, but I have never felt more alive. I wasn’t planning on bringing anybody with me for this, but a guy I’ve recently been seeing really wanted to come. I have known him since I was 13, we’ve been friends for a while and we just recently decided to take a leap of faith and date. He’s very strong, very kind, and so different than anybody I have been interested in before. He is absolutely without a doubt, not my type. That is not a bad thing. Dark thick hair, dark hooded eyes, tattoos that show on his outer body that make him look more hardened than he is but underneath those lies such a bright, light heart. He is my opposite in terms of, well everything besides working out. We hardly agree on anything. It’s wonderful. I learn something new every conversation that we have. The respect level we have for one another is incredible, even if we do not see eye to eye. He convinced me with a safety lecture about swimming safely so I let him tag along. He almost dove in with me, but it was like he read my mind. He stopped halfway through getting ready to dive and just slightly turned his head and said “what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours? I see the wheels turning in your eyes, I almost want to say it’s cute but you overthink everything, that’s not a bad thing, I just know you and you never stop thinking.” I wasn’t even trying to be rude, but I looked at him and laughed and said “I like you. I really, really like you. I know I’ve been taking it super slow with you but before I do this and possibly die, I wanted you to know that (at this point, we’re both laughing), I also really want to do this on my own. Please don’t hate me for this.” and he just looked at me and said “I knew you would, I just wanted to be here to support you. I’ve never met anybody as stubborn, as independent, as brilliant as you, and I would never want to change that. If you drown, I’ll sink to the bottom with you, and I’m not going to sit here and say that I’ll save you because you don’t need saving. Dive. Now. Please don’t die because you are not replaceable.” And off I went, he filmed the whole thing and yes, I was slow and my strokes were not perfect and you could tell I was freezing and my mother almost killed me when I returned sopping wet and slightly blue but I’ll be damned if I didn’t feel on fire.

And there he was. Standing on that shore line screaming “keep going! You’re a warrior!” At the top of his lungs. He jumped into the water with me at the end, and we just waded together cracking up in that cold, icy water. And he didn’t kiss me. He didn’t even try to touch me. 2 months of dating and he still respects every body boundary I have at this point. I wanted for the first time in a long time, to grab the sides of someone else’s face and feel their lips, but I was scared of ruining such a good moment. So we just stared at each other for a while. And he didn’t make me feel overwhelmed or under appreciated. We got so close our faces were inches from each other’s and he still didn’t force it. He just looked straight into my eyes and said “I have loved you for 7 years. Ive been waiting to say that forever. Loving you doesn’t ever go away, I have tried to find you in so many other peope but it just isn’t possible. You are amazing. You don’t ever have to say it back but I don’t think anybody could find anything as beautiful as your soul in this world and you deserve to know that. Inside and out, you are just, everything.” and he pulled me out of the water and onto the dock. He makes me feel like I am me. Like I can be me, without clinging to someone’s side. Like I am me, and not a part of somebody else. He hasn’t tried to claim me because I am not an object, and he wants to earn my respect. He has said multiple times that whenever I am ready, he is too. That he’s been ready since he was a kid, but he has waited patiently for me to find my way back. He’s let it be me. My terms. He also knows how I feel about social media and has respected me enough to keep me off of there as well. He likes that I am a winner, and my attitude about quitting is that I just won’t and he really admires that. Winners do not need validation from anyone but themselves, and they keep going, even when they feel like they’re about to drown. I still don’t know if he’ll be the one who makes me shine again. I’m taking it super slow, but he doesn’t try to make me feel like I’m something to show off to the world and that is so nice. I haven’t made it official simply because I’m enjoying this time we have together, but I’m still unsure if I am ready. Right now we are alone, hushed from the buzz of outside distraction and commentary. No pictures for anyone but ourselves, no need for a validation sticker on us, no outsiders commenting about it and giving unsolicited opinions, it’s been really nice. Being just us. But deep down right now, I really like being just me. Does that have to change? He likes me. Cold, sopping wet, hair sticking to her forehead, freezing and stubborn and blue in the lips. Laughing through possible hyperthermia and all the lows of her life because she just won’t let it keep her down. Because who doesn’t love a girl who just won’t quit and who does not give a damn who is standing beside her because she thrives standing alone? He admires me, and that is what has made me feel more beautiful than ever before. The freezing water and his smile and hearing that I am a warrior, that is how I began 2021. I can admit though without it hurting any longer, that there is a laugh I wish I could have heard on that shoreline as I struggled to swim my way back. The only thing in the world I think a part of me will always want validation from because I never got it back, but I’m scared the smile on the shoreline today might just overtake that perfect laugh in my mind. Why am I scared? I shouldn’t be scared. And I think that is why I memorized what Christian said to me. I have replayed this conversation for the past 24 hours in my mind trying to force something to click. Maybe it’s because I remember someone else loving me stubborn and wild, and this independent, too. I’m back, and I won’t let her disappear ever again. Why does she yearn for anybody else to admire that though? She can shut out anybody in the blink of an eye, no emotion about it, but him. He’s as cold as that icy water and yet she still would dive straight in if he asked her to.

#personal #2021 #a hoe does get cold #water was freezing af

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brideofedoras · 5 years ago

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Soulbound: Almost Human

Disclaimer: I do not own Almost Human or the characters, only my OCs...

Word Count: 2900+

Rating: 18 +

Warnings: Death and injuries, anxiety, asthma. More warnings to be added in the future.

Chapter One

“Samuel Jacob Williams is… was… my hero,” she schooled her grimace as she stared down at the paper in her trembling hands. For a moment the blue ink blurred out of focus, but three rapid blinks of her baby blue eyes cleared her vision. “He was a wonderful husband and father, the best dad a girl could ever hope for, and he was a great detective.” A slight wheeze rattled up her throat. “He always knew he would die in the line of duty, more than once he would tell me he wouldn’t go down without a fight but he would be damned proud to give his life if it meant The City would be safe for another day.

“He spoke often of his old partner and the rookies he’d break in, the fresh new detectives he trained. They were more than coworkers, fellow cops and detectives, they were his other family. His brothers and sisters in blue. I grew up hearing many funny stories about the job, and as I got older he opened up about the harder cases. Losing Eddie Kennex had been one of the hardest moments for him, Eddie lost his life shortly after Mom lost her battle with cancer. I remember waking up in the middle of the night to hear him drunk and arguing with Sandy and two other detectives as they dragged him into the house and to his bedroom. It took him a week before he could open up about Eddie, and another week before he could face his coworkers and Eddie’s son.” Her eyes blurred again. She blinked them several times to clear them, gripping the podium with her free hand to ground herself as she realized it was her anxiety rearing its ugly head. “He made me promise not to follow in his footsteps as a cop, and I reminded him that I preferred to tinker with the guts of an android or a computer. I’ll help keep the city safe by keeping the MXes in tiptop condition.”

Her ears perked up when she heard someone seated behind Sandy mutter something that sounded like “Kennex”. She looked up just in time to catch the look that crossed her godmother’s face.

Sandy shook her head, indicating for her to continue.

“Daddy was proud of every one of you,” she went on, only to stop when she noticed several of the cops were whispering to one another. She caught “Kennex” and “setup” and “he never should’ve been leading that raid”.

Anger flooded through her, white hot. The hand holding the paper her notes were written on clenched. “We are here to remember a detective, not trash talk a fellow cop,” she snapped. “Daddy spoke highly of John Kennex! He spoke more about John and Martin Pelham, Eddie and Sandy than he ever spoke about anyone else! He would be ashamed that you guys are on a witch hunt at a memorial service for a fallen detective!” She wadded up her paper and threw it aside. “This is the hardest thing I have to do today, saying goodbye to my father, the only blood family I have left! And you’re talking crap on a man who is in a coma in the hospital, hanging on by a thread when his best friend and his mentor died!” She looked out among the crowd of fifty men and women gathered in the chapel, taking in the shocked looks on their faces. “Here I am, twenty-five years old and honoring the life and death of the most important person in my life and you all are acting like a bunch of immature assholes ganging up to beat the hell out of someone!” She took a step back from the podium, pride filling her chest for standing up and speaking out in defense of someone who wasn’t there to defend himself. “I hope you’re proud of yourselves for ruining what should have been a remembrance!”

Her chin wobbled. Her eyes burned. Her chest tightened.

Her vision blacked out.

Emily Williams zipped her backpack and set it on the table next to the teddy bear and the vase with a small bouquet of sunflowers and daisies.

Her phone vibrated on the bed behind her. Her eyes slid shut for a moment as she drew in a slow, deep breath before she picked up the device. Seeing her godmother’s name she tapped answer. “Hey, Sandy.”

“Hi, Sweetie,” Captain Sandra Maldonado’s voice sounded a tad frazzled. “I can’t leave just yet to pick you up. We had a lead come in a few moments ago.”

“On the ambush?” She reached up with her free hand to rake her shoulder-length chocolate brown locks from her face.

“Not the ambush, but on a related case,” Sandy told her. “It’ll be maybe half an hour before I can leave the precinct. I know you’re ready to get the hell out of the hospital--”

“It’s fine, Sandy,” Emily couldn’t help the smile that teased her lips. “I’m in no hurry to go… to go home. I am ready to get out of this room. I’ve already told one of the CNAs to just rename 418-B the Emily Rose Williams Room.”

Sandra laughed at that. “They do keep admitting you to that particular room, don’t they?”

She shook her head. “Yeah, they do.”

“Well… Since you’ll be there for at least another hour, would you feel up to going upstairs to visit with John? I’m not going to be able to visit with him tonight. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to be here late working this lead.”

“Sandy, I could always call a cab or one of my neighbors to come get me,” Emily offered, moving toward the window to look out at the street below. “If this case is related to the raid I don’t want to pull you away from it.”

“I’m coming to get you, Emmie, I need to give my brain a break for a little while and check on John,” Sandy’s tone brooked no argument. “I’ll be there when I get there, we’ll grab lunch, and if you decide you want to stay somewhere else tonight you are more than welcome to go to my place.”

She couldn’t help but smile again. There was no arguing with the redhead. “All right. I’ll go sit with Detective Kennex and wait for you.”

“Any place in particular for lunch?”

“I’m not really hungry, but considering breakfast was turkey sausage and rubbery eggs, I’d settle for noodles,” she shrugged.

Sandra snorted. “You and Kennex would get along famously, Kiddo. He would live off noodles every day if he could get away with it.”

“With all that salt?” Emily shuddered. She loved Chinese noodle dishes, but every once in a while was enough for her. They tasted too salty for her.

“Yeah,” her godmother murmured. “Will you need to stop anywhere else before I take you home?”

“I’ll call the pharmacy to deliver my prescriptions,” she answered.

“Okay. I’ll be there when I can. Oh, and Emily?”

“Yeah, Sandy?”

“Talk to Kennex? They say that a person in a coma can hear when someone speaks to them. John could use another friendly voice.”

Emily nodded. “What would I say? I’ve never met him, Sandy.”

“Talk about your dad, or about yourself. Tell him you’re applying for an internship with Rudy. Those two butt heads a lot.”

“Sandy, you know I hate talking about myself!”

“John’s in a coma,” she reminded the younger woman. “He needs to hear a friendly voice. And even if he were awake, he wouldn’t tease or pick on you. He’d probably flirt with you.”

“I doubt that, Sandy,” Emily turned away from the window.

“Oh, he would, and he’s so terrible at it,” Sandra’s humor faded. “John’s going to need all the support he can get.”

“I’ll do what I can, Sandy,” Emily agreed softly.

“Okay,” her godmother murmured. “I’ll see you when I get there. Hopefully I can sneak out of here in thirty.”

“You’re the captain, you can do whatever you want,” she grinned, knowing full well what Sandra was going to say.

“I am, but I prefer to lead by example,” she laughed.

They ended the call with a quiet see you later.

Emily slipped her phone into the back pocket of her distressed skinny jeans before she walked over to the chair near the bed to wait on the charge nurse to bring the discharge paperwork and doctor’s orders.

Fifteen minutes later she found herself standing in front of the private room Detective Kennex was in.

“It’s good to see someone other than Captain Maldonado visiting the detective,” the CNA escorting her murmured.

Emily looked at the blonde, eyes wide. “No one else has been here?”

Sarah, she belatedly recalled the woman’s name, shook her head. “Not a soul. Does he not have any family or friends?”

“His dad died ten years ago,” her heart ached for the man. “A few months after my mom passed away… His mom… I think my dad told me Detective Kennex’ mom passed away when he was in high school. As for friends… I honestly don’t know, I’ve never met him,” she confessed. “He worked with Daddy, he’s close with Sandy. He lost his entire team in that raid, and everyone else is working long hours trying to find the people responsible.” She dragged her eyes from the frosted panel of the door to the CNA beside her. “Sandy said he has a girlfriend. She’s not been in?”

“He’s been here for thirteen days,” Sarah’s mouth twisted into a frown. “The captain has been the only visitor. And now you.” She pressed a button on the panel beside the door. “Come on, let me introduce you to our resident strong and silent detective.”

Emily followed the blonde into the room, her baby blue eyes sweeping the sterile space. No flowers, no cards, no stuffed animals. Just a framed photograph on the small dresser by the bed and a dragon figurine. She set her bouquet and bear on the counter by the sink before slowly approaching the bed.

“Detective Kennex, you have a new visitor,” Sarah spoke in a cheerful voice as she gently adjusted the detective’s position and checked the leads and IVs. She stepped back and motioned for Emily to come over.

Emily shrugged her backpack from her shoulder and set it on the chair as she joined the CNA. She looked at the blonde. “I have no idea what to say to him,” she whispered.

Sarah smiled as she squeezed Emily’s shoulder. “Basketball or hockey scores, the weather, maybe something you’ve tried recently that you absolutely love. We talk to him every time we’re in here, hoping he’ll wake up and tell us to shut up. A couple of us are keeping him up to date on our favorite soaps, even if he’s not a fan.”

She managed a smile at that. “I don’t watch soaps or sports, I’m a grad student.”

“Then talk about your studies,” Sarah headed for the door. “Thank you, Miss Wililams, for coming up here.”

She nodded before she slowly turned back to face the detective. She reached out and took John’s left hand in her two cold hands. A shiver of heat coursed through her from the feel of his limp, callused hand in hers. She smiled shyly as she studied the healing bruises and cuts on his face, the scar on his chin. “Um, hi, Detective Kennex, I’m Emily. I hope you don’t mind me, someone you don’t know… I… I’m not exactly a stranger since you worked with my dad… I hope it’s okay for me to come visit you while you’re in the hospital. I’m waiting for my ride to pick me up and she wanted me to wait here for her. She’s been visiting with you a lot, and I… Nobody should be alone in the hospital. If it weren’t for her, I.... I, uh,” she laughed nervously when she felt his hand squeeze hers. His heart rate kicked up briefly on the monitor attached to the bed. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry. I’m, yeah… You probably can’t even hear me since you’re in a coma, but I want you to know that I hope you have a quick recovery.” She reached up with her right hand to comb her fingers through his dark hair. She smiled when his brow furrowed slightly. Was he ticklish? Was he responding to her touch? Or was it just a random tic totally unrelated to external stimuli?

She quickly shrugged that thought off before reaching over to move her backpack off the chair. She pulled it toward her and sat down.

“I just finished up my own hospital stay,” she said after wracking her brain for something else to say. She frowned when her lungs grew tight and shifted to fish her inhaler out of her jeans pocket just in case her growing anxiety brought on an asthma attack. “I have asthma,” she admitted with a twist of her lips. “I’ve got it under control for the most part but it’s mostly triggered by anxiety attacks. Three days ago was my dad’s memorial service. Quite a few of the officers and detectives attending were being disrespectful of Daddy, being disrespectful to me, they were talking about you, blaming you for the… for the lives lost… and I lost my temper. I stopped in the middle of the speech I’d prepared and ripped them a new one. I cussed in a church,” she could laugh about it now. Three days ago it had put her in the hospital. “I was so caught up in my emotions I didn’t realize my anxiety had gotten the better of me. One minute I was feeling proud for shutting them up, the next I’m waking up in the emergency room with an oxygen mask on my face and all kinds of monitors attached to me.” She stopped herself from continuing, remembering that initial panic and ripping the mask and the leads from her chest before the nurse returning to the trauma room stopped her. She didn’t need to unload on the detective. “Anyway they decided I could go home today. I’ve been meaning to come up here and visit with you anyway. I want you to know I don’t believe a word they were saying about you. I don’t blame you. Daddy thought the world of you, he was always talking about you to me. Said he wanted us to meet, but never did anything about it,” she smiled, shaking her head. “I asked him one time if he was ever going to take me to McQuaid’s to meet you some evening and he told me, ‘You’ll meet him when you’re supposed to meet him, Princess.’ I don’t know what he meant by that, he never answered when I would ask why.” She idly played with the callused fingers of the hand she still held. She blushed when she realized what she was doing, and stammered out an apology. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, standing up to gently lay his hand on the blanket by his hip. “I’m holding your hand as if I have a right to, and I don’t, I’m so sorry. I just… I didn’t realize I…” She stepped back from the bed as she scrubbed her hands over her face. “I’m… I’m just not used to… to… this.” She started to pace the room. “Sorry, my anxiety is getting the best of me, and you’d think I’d be excited about getting out of the hospital after being a patient here myself. I am, but I’m not. I’m… I don’t want to go home to an empty house. I’ll… I’ll probably be ordering a pizza tonight, I don’t think I can handle cooking dinner for just myself. Dammit, I’m sorry, Detective, you’re in a coma and I’m unloading on you. I…” She jumped when the door opened, looking over to see Sandra Maldonado standing there with her coat draped over her arm.

“Any change?” Sandy asked softly.

Emily shook her head. “No, just reflexive movements,” she answered. She turned her attention back to the detective, her left hand curling over his left once more, her right hand stroking through his hair. “Can… can I come back…” She laughed nervously at herself. “Why am I even asking, you’re unconscious… If it’s okay with you, I’d like to come back tomorrow to sit with you,” she finished in a whisper. “Hospitals get awfully lonely.”

Her eyes were drawn to her hand when she felt a slight squeeze.

“Did he just…?” Sandra asked slowly.

“I think it’s just reflexes,” she shrugged, but she squeezed his fingers. “I’ll be back tomorrow, sometime, Detective Kennex. I need to get my assignments and get caught up on what I’ve missed in my classes.” She smiled to herself as she pulled away. “Maybe I’ll work on my assignments while I’m here, work on them out loud. Some of the classes are very boring, I’m hoping that you’ll wind up coming to just to tell me to shut up and get out.”

Sandra laughed. “That sounds like something John would do, but I doubt he’d ever say that to you, Emily,” she smiled. “I’ll just hound him about the paperwork that was supposed to be turned in weeks ago on the Andretti Corp case.”

Emily giggled. “Daddy hated the paperwork part of the cases.”

“We all do,” Sandra leaned down to grab Emily’s bag. She smiled sadly when she saw the flowers and the bear by the sink.

“Thought I’d brighten up his room,” Emily shrugged.

She nodded. “He’d appreciate it.” She slipped her arm around the younger woman when she walked over to her. “And I think he’d appreciate the company.”

#almost human #john kennex #john kennex/ofc #soulmates #angst

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