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shurisneakers · 4 years ago

Text

shut in [14]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: anxiety, violence, guns, death, ptsd, swearing, abuse

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: last chapter you guys :’’’’) im too emo about a fanfic i s2g. there’s an epilogue but this is the official last chapter.

i really appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

You had only heard of the warehouse before, never actually seen it.

Its reputation preceded it. It was only mentioned in passing as a place for the worst of the worst.

It was murky and smelled like rust, concrete and rotting corpses. You had no doubt a few of them would be littering the place. A few tube lights shone over you graciously like a spotlight, barely illuminating the area.

The room you were in was utterly silent. The only exception were noises outside the door; loud shouts and clanging of metal. You assumed it to be people in the other rooms. Your assessment on how tight the ropes were coiled around you earned a few grunts and odd squeaks, but nothing major.

You were bound to a chair, of course, with knots you had used before on others. It felt like a convoluted form of irony. It was firmly nailed to the ground to prevent you from using it against captors. You were gagged; pretty well, by the look of it.

A noise from beside you threw you off track. A quick look to your left and you found Sam in a similar predicament. He shook his head slightly, implying that it was useless to find an opening. At least he was alive and breathing.

“Are you done?” A voice came from behind you, echoing within the four walls. “I really want to get going and you’re taking too long.”

You knew who it was. It was impossible for you to mistake it at this point.

“Don’t mind the noise outside. We’re just torturing a bunch of people to death.”

You roll your eyes out of sheer instinct. The footsteps slowly moved towards the front of the room, heavy and deliberate. The expensive material of his suit shone under the light as he edged in front of you. Only he’d wear Armani to a murder.

The dramatic fuck clearly rehearsed it.

“Hey Buttercup,” Ransone smiled, distinctly proud of himself. Your bite on the bundle of cloth haphazardly shoved in your mouth tightened. “Been waitin’ on you for a while now. Wilson’s no good company.”

You sneak a glance at Sam’s side profile and he looks relatively untouched. There were a few cuts on his face that you could make out under the harsh light but that was it.

“You can’t get out of those, if you're wondering.” He gestured to your current set up. “I told you, Sam. I save my warehouse for special guests. All your fun tools are gone. Took ‘em when you were brought in.”

As your eyes adjusted to the lighting, you faintly make out the presence of two men in the corners of the room, stiff as cardboard. His security.

“Oh! Except this.” He brandished the paper airplane you had brought with you in the utility belt. He’d use anything to potentially get a rise out of you.

“Gettin’ sentimental now, are we?” He tested the tip of the plane with his finger.

You prayed he wouldn’t destroy it. It had more value than he was willing to bet on.

“You must be asking yourselves why you ended up here,” Ransone mused, looking at the plane from all angles. “No need to worry, I’ll tell you.”

You didn't expect anything less from him. Everything about this felt cinematic; the inconvenient lighting, the men standing in the corner. This man oozed drama over efficiency.

“When I was just starting out, people warned me. Told me I wasn’t going to get anywhere, that we’d always stay in the same position because that’s how it’s been for all these years.” He tested the plane, holding onto the body sturdily.

“There were too many big names already. We were one of them, of course. My father did a good job of giving us a solid foundation.” He pulled his wrist back like he was going to launch it, only to never actually do it. He carried it through the air, simulating its flight pattern.

“You remember my father, don’t you? The guy who cut off someone’s finger because they didn’t finish the job.” Ransone really only had one story to tell about his father and he worked it to death. Other than a few handful of times, his father never bothered about his presence much from what you heard. He favoured the ones who were brutal and Ransone- well, he was a glorified theatre kid.

“Of course you do. He was an incredible man.” He laughed crisply. “But he had no real ambition. No drive. I told him we could have been at the top, the ones parents warn their kids about. He didn’t listen to me. He never really paid attention.”

His tone got wistful in the end, eyes distant like he was living the scene out in his head.

“So obviously when he died, I had the chance to really make a difference. Really set us apart. Ten Rings and Hydra had their own niche; they had some ties with the military and the government and whatnot. Crazy motherfuckers, all of them.” He shook his dead in distaste. “But Serpentine- that was closer to home. Same market as us.”

You wondered how long he would take to get to the point. The only distraction you had were the noises that continued outside. An odd gunshot here and there really pulled your attention away from the story.

“Serpentine with their stupid code names. They really thought they were all that.” He sounded embarrassingly like a bitchy teenager. “Who do they think they were fooling with the Norse Gods thing, huh? Naming your leader Odin, his wife Frigga.”

“I fucking hated them,” he spat, face twisting into anger. “Told them to watch out, that I’d end their legacy. They laughed in my face.”

He spun around, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pointed to Sam, “That’s where you come in.”

Sam looked thoroughly irritated with the show that was going on in front of him. If he wasn’t gagged you had no doubt he’d have a few comments to pass. Ones that would get the both of you killed.

“I told you to kill their leader. One job. You fucked that up.” Sam recalling the story of his first mission flashed in your memory. “Let that old nutjob into your head and allowed him to escape. We didn’t know where he was for years.”

“I let it go because I thought Serpentine was done for. Radio silence after Odin disappeared. And they were, until a few years ago when I get news that they have a new leader. Odin’s son, the new heir.” He waved around his hands, mocking the last part of his sentence. “Word on the street was that he wanted to kill whoever murdered his mother in front of his eyes.”

“I thought that was hilarious. You know why?” He laughed humourlessly. “Because that was you. You were the one who killed his mother. You remember that? Your big mission?”

“You killed my mom,” he jeered, unmoving.

“I’m sorry. I had to.” Your voice was quiet. Your hand clutched at the hood of the car to keep your balance. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Go.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there. No one had even heard of him. His brother’s too soft to take on anything like this. He’s some farmer in England now. But he was supposed to be Odin’s only son. Yet somehow, the only person who could have known this other son existed and actually seen him… was you.”

“Turns out he’s like you. A secret adoption. No record of him anywhere.” You didn’t blink, not once taking your eyes off him in case he decided to go wild. “He should have died that day. You were supposed to kill them.”

Only Ransone would justify killing a kid because it fit his agenda. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, and though he tried very hard to shove his ideology onto you, you never complied.

“Goes by Loki now, another stupid codename. Trained by his father who this idiot let go of.” He gestured to Sam callously, “and mad about the murder of his mother that you committed. Serpentine came back pretty quickly after he took control.”

A particularly loud sound of metal slamming would have made you jump had you not been tied down. Ransone swung around in anger, loudly cursing at them for ruining his train of thought. He muttered some more curses under his breath before plastering a fake smile on his face and continuing.

“I’ll admit, he’s a sneaky one. But they grew faster than any other cartel. They somehow knew all our connections, all our targets, our key players. It wasn’t possible,” he shook his head low as he paced up and down slowly. You knew where this was headed. “Unless we had someone giving them information from the inside.”

He stops to look at you.

“I would have forgiven you, Y/N, I really would. You know how I am about second chances.” He looked at you, eyebrows upturned with regretful eyes. “But then you had to go and spy on me for two years.”

You could see Sam turn to you from the corner of your eye, assessing your reaction. You didn't extend the same courtesy to him. You didn’t have any reaction.

“We found out very late, of course. I taught you well,” he chided, his inescapable narcissism making an appearance once more. “But then we had to figure out why. Why you’d betray me and everything I’ve done for you.”

“I still can’t figure that out.” You wanted to scream at him, everything he had taken away from you, everything he forced you to be. “I treated you the best out of everyone I had. You had the best training, the best resources. You wouldn’t have made it anywhere if I didn’t drag you out of that shithole orphanage.”

You had heard of blissfully ignorant, but he was well beyond that at this point.

“Didn’t take too long to connect the dots. What, with Wilson’s great act of charity and your lack of better judgement, both of you managed to fuck up enough to screw me over years later.”

“I initially was only going to have you killed, Buttercup,” he admitted nonchalantly, like your life had no value. “But then we found out that Sam’s been lying to me for a long time too. Been hidin’ his friend a few states away.”

“It was meant to be,” he cooed. “Such a similar past. You could have met each other before, you know? Pierce wouldn’t be the first time you were at the same house on the same day.”

You couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if you had known Sam earlier. Would you have been friends or would you have been forced to kill each other in his sick ‘survival of the fittest’ game?

“It felt poetic to have you both die together, you know? On a mission gone wrong. A full circle.” God, he spent too long planning something elaborate when he could have just put a bullet in your head and ended you the day he found out. Fucking weirdo.

“Made sure I sent you to the same place at the same time. Pierce was dead long before you came, the poor fuck. But then again, collateral damage. No mercy.” He shrugged. “Had everyone at the ready. You should have died that night.”

“But like everything you do,” his voice suddenly rose like a child throwing a tantrum, “you fucked that up for me too. Escaped with his stupid fucking car.”

“None of those useless agents could find you. How could they?” The beauty was that Ransone must have spent too long looking when you were basically right there, just miles away. “You didn’t go to one of our locations and Serpentine hides their safehouses well.”

You still remembered the relief when the door accepted your fingerprint.

It was a long shot but you didn't have anywhere else to go. You weren’t even sure that this house existed.

Another loud crash arrived from the outside with noises that sounded like more gunshots, making Ransone jump this time. Just how many people were being tortured here?

“Keep the volume down, you stupid fucking imbeciles!” he screeched, pounding at the metal door. The decibel reduced, but still continued on.

He dragged his palm across his face in exasperation, talking under his breath to himself. He shook his head before turning back to you.

"Oh, by the way, don't think about escaping. Got every last one of my best agents out here after that stunt you pulled at Pierce’s house,” he says offhandedly.

He takes a second to regroup, get back into character.

“So we released your pictures to the public. Can’t go very far if people are looking for you constantly. It was the only way we could get you to stay in one place.” Ransone raised his shoulders casually. “We had every lowlife out there waiting for one of you to show up.”

“We eventually had someone report Wilson in a town a while away from Pierce. I was making my way there but then you sent me your location on your own. Had men outside your house that night.” He paused, peering at the plane in his hand.

He finally let it go, watching as it barely went any distance before nose diving to the ground. Your eyes trailed after it, hoping he wouldn’t crush it with his foot.

“This is the worst fucking paper plane I’ve ever seen. The balance is completely off.” He stared at it in wonder, picking it up again and shoving it back into his pocket. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “Anyway one of them heard you talkin’ about how you’re leaving the next day so we just got ready at the door.”

“Et voila.” He grinned, spreading his arms. “Here we are. Brilliant, wasn’t it?”

Unnecessarily long, but you weren’t going to complain.

“Oh, I forgot you can’t talk.” His mouth quirked downwards into a ‘whoops’.

He took a long pause right in front of you before his hand reached out to cradle your face. “I wouldn’t let those idiots kill you, Buttercup. You deserved better than that.”

He stared unnervingly into your eyes, looking for a hint of anything, any sort of remorse. He wasn’t going to find any. You wished he saw nothing but hatred.

“It’s why I had to kill you myself.” He sighed when you pulled your face away the best you could from his palm in disgust. “But I’ll do you a solid. I’ll give you a chance to beg for forgiveness. Maybe if you’re good enough I’ll let you go.”

You knew he was lying. He had no intention of doing that. He only wanted you to grovel in submission, plead for your life for a fucking power trip.

He ripped off the tape that was over your mouth, making you flinch at the burn. He pulled out the cloth faster than you could spit it out at him.

“Go ahead,” Ransone said smugly. His ego would outlive all of you.

“Him first.” Your mouth was dry and your lips felt chapped. You had clearly been knocked out for a while by then. You had no idea how far away you were from the original location.

“What?” His smile dropped to a frown rather quickly.

“Him first.” You mentioned towards Sam with your head.

“That’s cute.” He laughed, stopping when you didn’t join in. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I’m not saying shit till he does too.” You were bemused, monotonous. You just wanted to get this over as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” he huffed when your expression didn’t change. “It’d be fun to watch him beg anyway.”

You hear the rip of the tape from his face, the scrunch of the material before he balled it up and threw it on the floor.

Sam shook his head furiously, forcing Ransone to take a step back swiftly before he hit him.

“Right.” Ransone clapped his hands together. “Let’s get star-”

He was interjected by another loud bang followed by a series of gunshots. Another victim massacred. He groaned in frustration, stamping his feet at the constant interruption. The universe was determined to not let him finish his monologue in peace, and for that, you thanked her.

You looked at Sam, nodding slightly. He gave you a small smile in return, calming the nerves you were beginning to feel.

“Where were we?” Ransone did not look happy; a vein was dangerously visible on his forehead. Now would not be the best time to do anything that angered him. “Yes, go ahead. Beg.”

“Ransone,” Sam began, exhaling lightly. “We knew.”

The smile on Ransone’s face faltered. “What did you say?”

“He said we knew,” you cut in. “You melodramatic fuck.”

Ransone’s grin faded abruptly and it was by far the most satisfying experience you had ever experienced.

“Yeah, we figured it out ourselves a while ago.” Sam had the slightest smirk on his face. “Y/N did, actually.”

“Fuck,” you cursed.

You could feel his muscle shift as he looked at you.

“What’s wrong?”

You opened your mouth but shut it again. How do you explain it to him without sounding utterly ridiculous?

“I need to tell you something and I need you to hear me out before saying anything,” you pulled away from him, shuddering at the sudden cold that enveloped you.

“I’m listening.”

“I think it’s Ransone. He’s been trying to kill us.”

“Why?” He didn’t sound judgemental, hardly even fazed, like it was a completely plausible suggestion. You couldn’t express how glad you were.

“The guy you didn't kill, if he’s the old head of Serpentine, then... I know his son.” Your mouth was dry as your mind raced to piece it together. “He’s the one I didn’t kill.”

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, and you could see him trying to figure out the connection. “How are you so sure?”

You closed your eyes, letting out a deep exhale. “I’m going to need you to not react to what I’m going to tell you.”

“Okay...” he trailed off.

“I’ve been working with him for two years. Passing information on to him about Ransone.”

“Wait so that means-”

“I’m the spy. And I think Ransone figured it out. He wants to kill me.”

“You knew,” Ransone stated. He looked like he was in a daze.

Sam looked at you once before nodding. “If you would shut up and let someone else talk for once, we would have told you a while ago.”

“It helped that you confirmed details about Pierce’s death without us having to tell you.” The last conversation you had with him replayed in your head verbatim. “There’s no way you would have known he was dead before we got there unless we told you. Or you did it.”

“We knew you had agents outside the house. Kinda expected that when we gave you the address,” you shrugged the best you could, “Sam’s security cameras got all of them.”

“Made sure that one fuck behind the tree could hear us planning outside,” Sam added. “He wasn’t very stealthy, by the way.”

“Have you decided on a day?”

You nod, looking straight ahead into the darkness. “Tomorrow.”

“You sure? Our timing has to be right.”

“Yeah.” Your voice is coarse. “I’ll have to tell him.”

He nodded, leaning his elbows on his knees. He was too tall for the stairs, almost like he was crouching instead of sitting.

His voice dropped to a whisper like it’s a secret only meant for you.

“You knew you were going to be ambushed.”

“No shit.” You nodded.

The loud bangs continued outside the door but you paid no heed to it. The closer it got, the more your stomach jumped, hoping that more people you pissed off didn’t storm in. You had quite a list anyway.

“You knew they were coming,” Ransone appeared like he had gears turning in his own head, trying to add everything up on his own. “Then why didn’t you run?”

“Well, we kinda needed all of you in one place.”

“Huh?” He blinked, not listening to all the commotion that was going on around him. If he didn’t, he was choosing to focus on this instead.

“We had to take out all of you at once,” you disclosed, fidgeting with the rope to see if it would give. “Kinda knew you were waiting to kill us yourself when we gave you the location and nothing happened immediately. You’re too much of a sissy to kill us without backup so we wanted you in one place with the rest of them.”

You tilted your head towards the two men standing in the corner.

“You knew all this while and lied,” Ransone jeered, face twisting into something rather indiscernible; a nice mix of shame and rage.

“Not like we had another choice, man.” You just knew Sam was rolling his eyes. “You think I would voluntarily listen to you monologue like an idiot?”

“You did gag us,” you added, trying to buy as much time as you could. “That’s on you.”

The ropes were still tight as could be and the chair wouldn’t budge. Even your feet were too tightly tied together to do anything. It was what you expected, but that wasn’t going to stop you.

“Shut up!” Ranone’s face was hideously red.

“You rehearsed it, didn’t you?” Sam called out, taunt in his tone. “With the lighting and shit.”

“He doesn’t have to. He does one a week to some poor fuck who has to listen.”

You couldn’t believe the both of you were teaming up to bully a man who literally held the fate of your lives in his hands. It was something you never imagined yourself doing.

“How do people take you seriously?” Sam laughed. More than yours, his remarks seemed to be ticking Ransone off.

Ransone let out a guttural cry, knuckles so white you were afraid they were going to break. He whips around, stomping over to pull the gun from the hand of one of his bodyguards.

“Easy there, DeNiro, that’s not a stage prop.” Sam chided.

The concrete in front of him suddenly cracks loudly. He looked up, slightly taken aback.

“Next time it’ll be your fucking face,” Ransone snarled, waving the gun around like a maniac. You send a cautionary glance to Sam, telling him to back off. Ransone was volatile. He would act without thinking.

“Why did you kill everyone I was friends with, Vincent?” you asked slowly, trying to divert his mind.

He turned to you, a crazed look in his eyes.

“Why did you take everyone from me?” The more you asked, the more it became about genuine curiosity rather than a distraction from shooting Sam in the head.

“Take everyone from- none of them were going to last anyway!” He throws his hands up in the air angrily. “I was saving you from yourself. From the eventual pain.”

His face was desperate, and you for a second forced yourself to think from his perspective. He looked like he truly believed in what he was saying, like he genuinely thought he was supporting you. Like he cared. The thought that maybe he truly wanted to help you was the only way you could comfort yourself for so many years.

“If you were in pain, you wouldn’t perform. I was only pushing you to your full potential,” he continued, a wild smile on his face mixed with eyes rimmed red like he was ready to cry.

Your stomach sank, even though you hated it. It wasn’t about you, it was about what he could get from you.

There was silence. Even the noises outside seemed to have stopped, all waiting for your next move.

“You’re a sick, conniving fuck,” your words waver, and you hope it hits him as hard as it can, “And I can’t wait till you’re dead.”

His face morphed from one of helplessness to slow fury once more. Manipulative prick.

“Do I have to remind you that you’re the one tied up?” He wipes at his nose, voice returning to normal. “The only reason you’re alive right now is because I need to know why you let yourself be captured so willingly.”

Your incessant need to know everything stemmed from him and the paranoia he induced in you from when you were a kid. Everything you thought was wrong about you came from him.

“We told you, you overdramatic fuck.” Sam drew the attention away from you thankfully. You took a deep breath, stabilizing yourself.

“What, that you needed the team in one place to take us out?” Ransone asked, to no one’s answer. “You and what army?”

“Well, the one who’s been here for a while now,” you pipe up.

No one says anything. Pin drop silence reigns free.

“You said he’d be here,” Sam hissed at you. “How much longer do we keep this going?”

“He said he would,” you argued back, feeling the heat creep into your cheeks.

“What the fuck are you both talking about?” Ransone asked, but you continued to ignore him.

“What are we going to do if he-”

The door violently exploded off its hinges, sending debris flying everywhere. You clenched your eyes shut and ducked your head to avoid getting smacked in the face with rubble

The dust hadn’t even cleared before multiple rounds were fired. You flinched when your ringing ears hurt more at the sound of gunshots.

You struggle against your ropes, trying to get to Sam. They only get tighter until suddenly your arms break free. Your neck and legs soon follow as you shrug off the ropes that were cleanly sliced off.

Your ears were still getting used to the chaos when you notice someone humming behind you. It took a second to register that it was a fucking Britney Spears song.

“What took you so long?” You coughed, waving the air in front of you to clear it as you stumbled towards Sam.

“I wanted to make an entrance,” Loki said dismissively, following you. “I think I may have overshot it by a few seconds.”

You fell to your knees in front of Sam, quickly moving to untie the familiar knots. He lifted his head to look at you, a thin layer of dust covering his face.

“Are you okay?” you asked in concern, simultaneously untying as fast as you could. It was one you had used many times before; a complicated knot that guaranteed you wouldn’t have been able to make it out of the bondage.

“I think my leg’s asleep but other than that I’m good.”

You give him a small smile, thankful that he wasn’t hurt enough to lose his dry sense of humour. Your hand involuntarily reached up to brush some dust off his cheekbone. The intensity with which he looked at you had you swallowing thickly.

You snapped out of it quickly, working on freeing his legs as Loki took a step behind his chair to cut the rest of him loose.

“This him?” Sam mentioned to Loki, massaging his wrist to return some feeling into it.

“You can just ask me, you know,” Loki commented, but clearly not taking any offence.

“I’m sorry about your family, man.”

You didn’t expect Sam to say that, and from the looks of it, neither did Loki. He stopped for a moment, before continuing to cut the last rope.

“You let my father go,” he said, sawing the last part off, “and although I personally think you should have killed the miserable old bastard, he made it clear that he owed you one.”

The both of you stood up. You glanced around the room, noting how both of Ransone’s bodyguards were on the floor, bullet holes riddling their body.

He himself was beside them, lying facefront on the ground. Armani suit be damned.

“How many more are outside?” Sam asked, tearing your attention away from the bodies on the floor.

“All taken care of.” Loki put the knife back into its sheath on his thigh. “We made quite a commotion. I’m surprised he didn’t do anything.”

“He’s a little dense,” Sam remarked. Most of the noises you heard earlier weren’t just other victims being tortured, although you knew that it was still a large fraction of it.

“Should we go?” you asked, doing a quick sweep of the room. You found nothing moving among the pile of rubble.

“Unless you got anything else left to do.” Loki gestured to the large hole in the wall where the door was.

“I think we’re done.”

He simply nodded, spinning on his heel to walk out the room when someone yelled from behind you.

You all halted what you were doing, slowly turning to look at where the noise was coming from.

“Don’t take another step,” Ransone warned, a gun pointed straight at you, barely able to stand straight. He looked worse than you’d ever seen him. His suit was torn and he had a few streaks of blood down his face. His hair was tousled and unkempt, rougher than it had ever been before. “Or I swear I’ll-”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki interjected, firing a shot into Ransone’s stomach before anyone could even react. He returned the gun to its holster that you didn’t even notice was there on his waist. “He talks too much.”

Ransone staggered back until he hit the wall, knees buckling beneath his weight as he slid to the ground. The gun he pried off his bodyguards lay where he was standing previously.

You ignored Sam’s uneasy questions as you took a step forward.

You picked the gun up, cautiously making your way to Ransone. You crouched next to his body. He looked at you before looking down. You followed his line of sight, watching as he lifted his hands. They were covered in blood.

“How’d he know where to find you?” Ransone’s voice was more subdued than you’d ever heard him.

You reached over, slipping your fingers into his jacket pocket and pulled out the paper airplane that was flattened due to the impact.

“Hey, you can put a message in it. Maybe one of those button trackers, a microphone. The possibilities are endless.” He laughed, folding another one out of the limited supply of paper he had left.

You unfolded it, letting a small object, not bigger than a button, fall into your palm. He stared at it before realisation dawned on him.

“I knew you’d take all my weapons, but you wouldn’t get rid of this,” you disclosed, folding the paper plane back to what it was and gently putting it into your pocket. It was still salvageable. “Not if you could use it to hurt me.”

You watched him take a shaky breath, flinching when more blood rushed out of him.

“You can still help me, Y/N. We can get out of here together,” he rasped. “Think about everything we’ve been through. We can work it out. I love you.”

You involuntarily let out a strangled cry at the last part. It was nothing but a last ditch attempt to persuade you, pull you back in.

“Look- look at me. Buttercup,” he croaked when you wouldn’t oblige. “I love you. I’m your home.”

You finally look at him. Look right into his eyes, red rimmed and fading. You look for it, the adoration he spoke of. The care he promised. Anything to make sense of why he would tear you apart time and time again. The love he had for you.

You find nothing. Gray eyes look back at you blankly, desperately, in pain.

“You never were,” you whisper, standing up abruptly.

You raised your arm, pointing the gun at him. He sputtered out more half baked apologies, unaware of anything that was coming out of his own mouth.

You clench your eyes shut, pulling the trigger. He lets out a cry when the bullet lodges in his shoulder.

You take a step back, letting the scene imprint itself in your brain of him powerless on the ground at your will. If you followed what he preached, you’d have ended his life right there. No mercy.

But you weren’t him. And you didn’t ever want to be.

“I need to do something too,” you heard Sam say. You can feel him near you, brushing against you for a moment as he gently reached for the gun you held. You gave it to him, feeling him squeeze your hand in reassurance.

Ransone looked at Sam as he stood beside you. He fired a single shot into his leg, clearly hitting bone. You hear the same wail from before, mixed with sputtering as blood leaked from his mouth.

“That was from Riley. He says fuck you.” Sam let his hand fall again. “All yours, man.”

“You already know what this is for,” Loki said simply.

You chose not to look away as he shot the last round right into his forehead. Ransone’s head slumped over. Dead, glassy eyes stared beyond you.

None of you say anything. Just stare at the lifeless body in front of you.

“It’s really over, huh?” Sam’s voice is quiet, like he's having trouble processing what just happened.

You don’t answer. Only take a step towards him, and intertwine your fingers with his, continuing to stare at the corpse of your lifelong abuser.

____

The sun was beating down on you. You didn’t expect it to be evening when you stepped out of the warehouse.

“Where are we?” you asked, shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness that left you squinting.

“Middle of nowhere, I’d say.” Loki stares with disdain at the old building that looked worse for wear. “Would it kill the man to have a bit of taste?”

That reminded you. “Thanks for the house. And… sorry we showed up uninvited.”

“You didn’t do too much damage to it, I hope.”

You looked at him guiltily, mind flashing to the many bullet holes that decorated the back wall. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”

“Forget it. It’s of no use since everyone knows it exists now.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand. “So, Y/N. I guess that concludes our deal?”

“I guess it does.” You nodded,

Sam wraps his arms around your shoulder and you lean into him with a sigh, allowing the comfort his touch brought to seep into you.

“How’d you guys make a deal anyway?” he inquired. You closed your eyes, chest rising and falling steadily.

“Well, I was going to kill you at first,” Loki explained offhandedly, gesturing to you. “But then-”

He trailed off.

You remember, clear as day, when Loki confronted you in the early hours of the morning outside the park you went on runs. He had a gun pulled on you before you could fathom what was going on, before you could even realise who he was.

“But then?” Sam prodded.

“Did he make it?”

“He did,” you divulged the information you had found out a while ago. It was a messy confrontation to say the least but you got out unscathed.

“Saw something that I recognised,” he said dryly, eyeing you up and down. “We were both pulled into something we didn’t have a say in. Stuck, you could say. I just thought that it was a win-win situation if we worked together to kill that idiot back there.”

“So you agreed to spy on him,” Sam concluded. “You got revenge. What was your incentive?”

You look at Loki who just smiled at you. You return one half heartedly.

“I’d say freedom is a pretty big reward, wouldn’t you?” And it was. You couldn’t even begin to explain the weight that would be lifted off your shoulders. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have a perfectly normal life. Might have to change your identity, move around a bit.”

“Everyone’s looking for us as wanted criminals,” Sam voiced everything you were forgetting about in the surge of emotions rushing through you.

“I got some connections,” Loki said dismissively. You peered at him from under Sam's arm. “I can have it traced back to a dead mobster in a warehouse, no problem. If they think it’s a gang war there’s no way they’ll try to get too involved. Consider it a gift from my father.”

Sam nodded, relaxing slightly now that most things were taken care of.

“That’s sorted then.” Loki examined the barren land that surrounded you. “You’re going to need a ride back to civilization, aren’t you?”

“If that’s possible.”

“I’ll have someone drop you off. You got any place to go? At least to stay low for a while.”

You didn’t have anyone. The only one you had was the man beside you. Nothing was settling in at the moment, and you realised that it would be a long road until it did. But you had a shot. A real shot at something even resembling recovery.

Sam and you looked at each other before he turned back to Loki and nodded.

“New Orleans.”

Next part

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here’s a list of references/foreshadowing to the end all throughout the series!

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no-droids · 5 years ago

Text

Dove

Part 2 of 2 of The Locked Door Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 19.7K i apologize for NOTHING

Warnings: DUBCON ELEMENTS, SMUUUUUUT, religion kink, virgin kink, authority kink, degradation kink, praise kink, age gap, ohhhhh the list goes on y’all been here long enough

A/N: I have nothing to say for myself this time im sorry

***

Obi-Wan feels like he’s going to be sick.

Dinner in the grand hall was difficult enough, forking down mouthfuls of expensive food he’s sure was absolutely marvelous, if he could’ve tasted it. The s’Ziscari clearly splurged on the celebrations—expensive food, expensive decor, expensive everything, down to the silk napkin he studied and fiddled with under the table as he awkwardly waited for you to finish your plate.

He felt uncomfortable, absolutely. He’s felt uncomfortable ever since he shuffled into this blasted, Maker forsaken robe not long after he left your quarters earlier.

Not black, no. Not like yours. Not like what appears to be an overwhelmingly vast majority of the people he’s encountered so far this dreadful evening.

No, his robes are blue.

A strong, eye-catching royal blue, covering his body in waves of fabric—softer than anything he’s ever worn before and leaving him feeling incredibly exposed. The far more practical robes he traded for these atrocious garments are made of a thick, scratchy wool, a testament to the Jedi’s philosophical rejection of fine or expensive materials. And, against all logic—to somehow make matters even worse, the sash tying this uncomfortable piece of attire closed has no place to clip his saber, unlike the leather belt he usually wears. As a consequence, he’s left simply carrying it around by his side.

Granted, for some unknown reason, his robes are still far thicker and longer and more protective than the… stars, the ultra-thin black silk wrapped around your body, but Obi-Wan is so self-conscious about his appearance that he’s not even allowing himself to look at you. Obviously that doesn’t stop him from refusing to leave your side the entire night, and he finds himself rather grateful that only a very few number of s’Ziscari are fluent in Basic, if only to provide him with a valid excuse to socially detach.

Of the very few people he’s noticed wearing robes resembling his, they’re all far younger than him—much closer to your age than Obi-Wan’s, and stars, everything about this celebration is unbelievably unnerving to him—including, if not most of all, your response to it. One of the reasons he knows the food was grand, apart from the immaculate plating and lavish dinnerware of course, is because you momentarily excused yourself from the seat next to him to dish yourself out a second helping.

Even now, even in the skybox seats of this distressingly packed arena, Obi-Wan struggles to keep down what little food he could eat while you stand tall next to him and seem completely unbothered by the situation—and by the Maker, it bothers him. He isn’t used to this. He’s used to you being the emotionally turbulent one, the one whom he has to pacify, and it twists his stomach with the way the roles have suddenly found themselves reversed.

“I think the blue looks nice, by the way,” you lean sideways to mention casually to him, and he knows. He knows you’re just jesting, just trying to lighten the mood, but he feels the bile rising up his throat at the fact that you even commented on it aloud. “Fitting. Matches your saber. Your face, though.” The smallest hint of a smile tugs at your cheeks. “It’s beginning to match the color of mine.”

“Thank you for that, young one; your sense of humor is positively delightful,” Obi-Wan gripes, clutching the metal hilt tightly in front of him with both hands while he gazes out at the stadium before him, bustling with black hooded figures and a rare flash of blue. It does not escape his notice that in complete contrast, your arms are loosely meeting behind your back, your saber dangling in one hand while the other lazily holds your wrist. Your body is… open. Draped in garments somehow equally as opaque as they are revealing, presented to the wide panoramic view of the audience and stage with no qualms whatsoever.

“Wonder who I got it from,” you ponder with a tilt of your head, and… fair point. “How long is this thing supposed to last anyways?”

“Stars—‘this thing’ can’t get over with soon enough,” Obi-Wan grumbles, his eyes anxiously flicking down at the empty stage in the center of the audience. He’s struggling with butterflies and nausea like he himself is meant to have a starring role in this debauchery. “They’ll have… acts. Plural.”

“Heavens,” you sigh under your breath, and oh yes. He agrees.

He’s also painfully aware that he should be using this free time to continue contemplating his decision about… matters concerning later this evening with you, but he’s already feeling massively overwhelmed as it is. Right now, it’s all he can do to just breathe and attempt to face one trial at a time.

But then, as if the Maker is feeling just particularly malicious this evening, Obi-Wan’s stomach drops when something quiet flashes in the Force and the roar of the enormous crowd instantly falls to dead silence. The ominous sign rockets through him and while a Jedi should not know fear, this might be the closest he’s ever felt to truly terrified.

“Ooh, dramatic,” you whisper, but regardless of your laissez-faire attitude, his heart is positively pounding as he watches the figures of robed Force sensitives slowly file out onto the stage, and everything inside him lurches at the realization that—

They’re all wearing blue. Every single one of them is clothed in fabric that matches his current attire, the one that made him feel like a blot on the landscape the entire dinner and subsequent mass pilgrimage to the arena. A bright splash of color in the midst of an almost inescapably giant ring of black.

You’ve stopped talking. Truly, he has no idea if that’s a good or bad thing, not right now. The Force sensitives join hands and create a ring in the center of the stage while every single person in the arena sits in perfect silence, and Obi-Wan feels dizzy. He’s not getting enough air right now, but he doesn’t even want to breathe too loudly and somehow draw even more attention to himself.

Two of the blue robes break off from their fellow acolytes and meet in the middle of the circle, and to simply avoid having a heart attack, Obi-Wan very purposefully chooses to ignore—like he’s done multiple times this evening—the subtle flicker of curiosity he experiences at the significance of the color blue and what it symbolizes to the s’Ziscari. He can’t even bear to watch the way the two of them slowly lean in and allow their lips to touch from under their hoods.

Maker, if he turned his saber on and stabbed himself with it, could he convince you it was an accident? Probably not—no, definitely not, what a stupid thought to have—

“How does she wipe?” He hears your voice whisper, and Obi-Wan’s facial expression immediately screws up in confusion.

He turns to you, his tone equally hushed but the bewilderment sharpening his consonants. “How does who what—?”

Only—you’re not even looking at the scene unfolding in front of you. Your expression is just as confused as his is, but instead of looking down, your chin is lifted and you’re staring directly across the arena at the viewing booth opposite to yours. He still has no idea what you’re talking about though, not until he follows your line of sight and sees the way s’Zerthia has her jaw propped up in her hands on her throne, looking bored as usual, and how the length of her newly manicured fingernails curves halfway up her scalp from this angle.

“That’s dangerous,” you remark quietly. “They’re like talons. Gaudy little weapons she always has attached to her that she decorates, makes them seem less vicious than they actually are. I see them. I certainly don’t envy whoever she picks tonight to—”

You cut yourself off with a bit lip smile and turn your face away from him, and Obi-Wan is almost mystified by how casual you’re able to be about this.

“Whomever she picks to…?” He trails off with a sigh. “Do I… Do I want to know?”

“Never mind,” you tell him quickly, lifting your chin once more while still clearly trying not to laugh. You’re trying not to laugh, while… while that is happening in the center of the audience. “It was, uh… tasteless.”

He blinks, wondering what that could possibly mean. Everything about this is tasteless, the entire thing is just an absolute nightmare coming to life.

Though, after a moment of silence, Obi-Wan soon realizes he much prefers it when you fill the void.

“Members of the Royal Court take turns doing it for her,” he eventually replies, decidedly looking anywhere but where the man is slipping the blue robe from the woman’s body. It takes you a second to register to what exactly he’s referring, but when you finally do, you snort. It’s too loud. A few heads closest to your isolated seats turn as Obi-Wan very quickly thrusts his elbow into your ribs. “Quit being disrespectful,” he hisses under his breath.

“You just—!” You quickly clamp your mouth shut and face forward again, trying not to smile in an appalled sort of way. But then—“Oh,” you blurt, not loud enough for anyone else to hear in this open setting but still loud enough for him to glance around and be slightly anxious about it. “Oh. Wow. I wasn’t… expecting…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes automatically flick down to the couple, only just long enough to catch a quick glimpse of stark nudity in the center of the arena before his gaze immediately bounces back up again and focuses on the incredibly interesting steel beam currently propping up the Queen’s viewing box, clearing his throat. “I… did warn you.”

“Well, yeah, I expected them to…” Your hushed voice trails off and you stay quiet for too long, too long to imply you’re still formulating an end to your thought. You’re distracted by something, but then you appear to snap back to your senses and immediately clear your throat. “I just wasn’t expecting… the, uh. The… positioning.”

He says nothing in response. It… it doesn’t give him great comfort, wondering how you could possibly know enough about this type of profanity to have expected a different sort of positioning. The stark contrast between the color of his ceremonial robes and yours still remains completely unspoken, but it quietly pulls at the back of his mind nonetheless.

“What about it?” Obi-Wan immediately hears himself prompt and oh, no, this is completely inappropriate. Not only should he not be encouraging this kind of talk with you, but he also shouldn’t feel so… so negative, not about something so personal to you and something that’s certainly none of his business. Regardless, he… still has this buried, unexplainable desire to know the truth about it. Regardless of the indirect way he’s attempting to go about it, he wants to know the truth about whether or not you broke your oath, and while he recognizes it’s completely improper of him, the urge is still strong enough to manifest itself using his vocal cords.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just… It’s…” He doesn’t even have a visual reference for what you’re attempting to find the words to describe. He doesn’t want to. He just wants to know what you think about it. “…Bold,” you finally settle on.

Bold. It’s bold. Perhaps Obi-Wan wouldn’t be analyzing your verbal responses so closely if he had something more interesting to look at besides the general coliseum-like structure of the large outdoor stadium, but there’s a certain horizon he just won’t let his eyes dip below right now and unfortunately for him, being so high up above the crowd, the upper hemisphere of his visual field remains relatively dull.

“Who would've thought,” he eventually sighs, blinking up at the star-splattered sky now and attempting to see if he can use the Force to break off a piece of a satellite and have it impale him in a tragic accident. “Considering the s’Ziscari are such a conservative bunch.”

His eyes soon wander back to s’Zerthia, and—Obi-Wan startles to find her staring directly at him with a thin eyebrow dangerously quirked. She motions two long fingers in a V shape at her eyes and then points down towards the stage, her expression expectant and waiting.

Obi-Wan’s teeth hurt at how hard he clenches them together, his jaw flexing but the thick blanket of his beard doing well to conceal it. She’s playing with him, he realizes; he can see the hidden smile on her lips all the way from here.

Maker, maybe she’s right. Maybe he’s—maybe he’s being ridiculous about this. This is fine. This is fine. His stomach feels like it’s all his food might come up at any second, but he’ll do it, he’ll look. He can at least just look, right?

His gaze slowly begins lowering, trying to take in just a few things at a time so as not to overstimulate himself. Thousands of s’Ziscari lining the seats of the arena, almost every single one of them dressed in black. Lower still—the platform leading up to the stage. A perimeter of blue figures now sitting down in a circle and then, at its center, a… a naked man and woman.

Obi-Wan’s heart pounds as he struggles to comprehend the sight, never having laid eyes on a nude woman before. She’s on her elbows and knees, forehead lowered and resting against the floor, and the man kneels behind her, one hand holding her hips and the other wrapping around his—

Stars, Obi-Wan wants to end it all. Right here. His aim will be true.

But then… oh, no, he’s an idiot. He’s a complete dullard, because he forgot. Consumed by his own sheer anxiety and unease, Obi-Wan stupidly forgot an extremely crucial detail of the incredibly little he’s been told about the Sh’inzith.

—the projecting.

All at once, he’s nearly knocked over by the strength of the two Force sensitives at the center of the arena as they deliberately cast their minds out across the entire audience, presenting every sensation and fleeting thought they’re experiencing in all its intensity. Obi-Wan immediately works to reinforce his mental shields as soon as he feels the shockwave about to hit, but there’s thousands of Force sensitives present—all of them congregated into one relatively small area, all of them tuning into the same two signatures and then suddenly… amplifying them back until it’s impossible for him to shut out.

“Oh, uh—” he just manages to hear you mutter through the whirlwind, just the slightest hint of panic in your voice peaking through the symphony of whispered thoughts and pulsing sensations coming from the stage, “—that isn’t good—”

Obi-Wan abruptly stumbles backwards and gasps at the awful, wretched feeling of something brunt pressing up hard against somewhere elusive, somewhere he’s never felt before towards the lower part of his body, and his mind fights viciously against it as he feels you spin around and reach out for his rapidly retreating figure.

“Wait, no—it’s okay, M-Master, it’s okay, it’s—” your voice cuts off and your hands suddenly fist into the robes at his chest, your forehead dropping to his shoulder against the sharp sting just continuing to push and push and push, “—i-it’s okay, it’s oka—”

He trips over his feet in the chaos and falls back on complete instinct and you’re so tightly attached to him that you’re yanked forwards with the momentum, the two of you plunging to the ground in a clumsy heap of grunts and tangled limbs. Obi-Wan immediately starts crawling backwards across the floor underneath you, still trying to escape the horrible, inescapable sensation digging into a part of his body that doesn’t seem to exist, but it’s like you’re of the same mind—you’re scrambling forwards in the same direction trying to get away from the same thing, frantically attempting to calm him and simultaneously deal with the agony yourself, and then suddenly—

Oh—oh, Maker—

Suddenly something gives and surges in, and then Obi-Wan gasps—his elbows buckling under him and as the both of you drop down onto the floor because stars, it’s nearly blinding with impression. Not only the aching, hard fullness stretching sharp and deep somewhere in his lower abdomen—but now a new sensation. A tight, wet silk he feels swallowing him between his legs, concentrated on a part of his body that… does exist, a body part that’s currently pressed up right between your spread thighs.

“Fuck,” you moan hot against his throat, trying to find somewhere to brace yourself next to his shoulders and push yourself up off him, and he tries—Maker, he tries so hard not to, but his hands shoot out to grab your hips before he even knows what he’s doing and then he’s dragging his lower body up into yours on instinct alone, clamping his eyes shut and groaning out a desperate sound he’s never heard himself make before as his head drops against the floor.

It’s staggering. It hurts. He can't even hear your muffled noises anymore, not over the roaring encompassing his mind and body. All he knows is that your hips quickly jerk back and grind down into his in response, sending Obi-Wan reeling while you bury your twisted cry of pleasure and pain into his neck.

The sound of it breaks through everything else.

Obi-Wan’s hands shake violently as they suddenly release you and then frantically shove at your shoulders, trying to push you off without hurting you. He can’t think, he can’t see, he needs to leave—

“Get away,” he rasps desperately up at the sky, blinking his eyes wide but somehow not seeing anything in front of him but blackness. “St-stars, get away from me—”

Suddenly you’re flipping off his body and onto your back next to him, too quick for it to be a mechanical movement alone, and he doesn’t even have the space in his mind nor the processing capacity to figure out if he Force pushed you off him or if it was you who did it to yourself. He just clambers to his feet and stumbles away in a terrified, graceless retreat, bent in half, limping and gasping and fighting for every step he takes.

***

Your Master was right to leave as soon as possible, you think. You were wrong to linger here for just a second to try and gain your bearings, because the more you work to grasp and attempt to organize them, the more mindless and disorienting they become.

You eventually have to heave over and drag yourself after him.

The further away you get from the arena, the easier it becomes to block the projection, but Maker, it’s exhausting. You’re resigned to start out with a crawl—one of those Jedi Core crawls you haven’t had to do since the Academy but this one exponentially slower, forehead dropped down and eyes closed, just focusing on alternating shifting your elbows and your knees forwards and dedicating the rest of your mental energy to just isolating your mind from the debilitating assault.

Consulars don’t usually see much of war—you tend to do absolutely everything in your power to avoid it. It’s the Guardians who experience the horrors of combat most often, who deal with ambushes and onslaughts from enemies of the Republic. But Maker above, every merciless thrust into that poor little virgin at the center of the arena is like a blaster shooting directly at you, but then couple it with the thousands of reflections and ricochets in robes lining the bleachers? You’re in the trenches of a deadly battle you had no idea was even about to break out and you have no weapon of defense besides retreat.

When you finally get far enough away to be able to push yourself upright as much as possible and continue staggering back to the palace on two feet, you have no concept for how long it’s been. You can still feel the projection vibrating and clawing sharply at the edges of your consciousness, but at least the majority of your thoughts are your own now, and it gradually becomes easier and easier to focus and speed up to a clumsy run.

Though, no matter how successful you eventually are at muffling the vibrant sensations and thoughts of the two Force sensitives behind you—when they cum, you stumble down to your knees again and have to bite the back of your fist to keep from screaming.

Maker, it takes you a minute to recover. You don’t even cum, you just feel it—the burst of energy from the Force in every direction, the violent explosion from the stadium that feels like it should fracture the ground beneath you.

You’re able to get up after a moment, if only because they decide to take mercy and finally cut off the projection. You know that it’s a temporary relief, that they’ll likely be at this all night, but you hope the palace will be far enough away from the arena to block out the sensations completely. You wonder if Master Kenobi felt that through the Force or whether he was too determined to block it out that he was able to simply ignore the nuclear missile that just detonated less than a few miles away from him.

You force yourself forwards and you want to hurry, you do—but strangely, in your wild state of exhaustion, stark reality is almost as debilitating as swimming through that endless madness was. It’s quiet around you but the noise of still air pulses deafeningly in your eardrums after breaking free from such a thick mental filter separating you from your surroundings. You still have your lightsaber clutched in your hand, Maker rejoice, and your thin robes are skewed awkwardly across your body, but you eventually find your way to the doors of the palace.

Though, trying to navigate the empty halls back to your Master’s chambers takes you longer than it should. His signature is cloaked spectacularly, concealed to a mere speck you wouldn’t even know was there if you weren’t so closely acquainted with it for more than a decade. You follow the flickering pixel of blue light through the obstacle ridden darkness, adjusting the front of your robes with one trembling hand while you wipe your brow with the other, closing your eyes and doing your best to take deep breaths. He’ll be spiraling right now. He’ll need a boulder to cling to in this tsunami, solid ground to stand on while the stars are falling out of the sky.

You… find him in your quarters instead.

The door is open and his handsome profile is to you, the thick fabric stretching over his broad shoulders now an agreeable light cream, familiar and telling of his intentions. His hands are moving. Setting something down on your bed—your robes, you soon realize. He’s laying out your Jedi robes neatly for you across the fur blanketing the large mattress.

Master Kenobi begins speaking as soon as you step foot into the room, the tone of his voice very clearly impatient after having waited for you for so long.

“Change out of those ridiculous garments,” he tells you hastily, neatly laying out your leather belt across your dark tunic without even turning his head to look at you properly. “We must leave. Quickly. Also—tell me you didn’t forget your saber at the arena, because if so, I’m afraid it’s lost to us forever now. Ilum is only three days from here, perhaps we can stop there on the way back to Coruscant to find you another kyber cryst—”

You drop the hilt of your lightsaber on the floor and step forward, cautiously reaching out for his figure as he continues to ramble. “Master, I—”

Your hand is thrown to the side with a subtle flick of his wrist and you instantly jerk to an abrupt halt, holding your palms out in front of you and keeping completely still while he spins around, his jaw slack and staring at you wide-eyed. He takes a few steps away from you in shock.

“I’m sorry—” he immediately gasps, reaching out towards you even though the rest of his body is still desperately evading yours. “Stars, I’m so sorry—that was just… That was excruciating, young one. Why would anyone ever willingly—?”

“It—it doesn’t always—” you cut yourself off just in time, clamping your jaw shut before you can finish your sentence.

“We must leave,” he says once more as he turns back to your mattress, not appearing to hear you at all and shaking his head, far too frantic to sound like he’s just reminding you alone. “We can’t do that. I can’t do that—”

“It doesn’t always have to be—” Maker, what is wrong with you? Your heart kicks up in your chest and somehow stutters to a halt at the same time. It’s the lingering effects of the assault your mind just experienced coupled with your desperate urge to console him that’s making you so utterly careless, you realize, it’s making your tongue loose.

“Stars, what do you mean?” Master Kenobi finally snaps, and your blood runs ice cold. “How do you know that?”

It takes the sum of all your years of training to keep the raging hurricane of emotion from showing in any capacity. You feel like he’s holding his saber to your neck with how dangerously little you’re even allowing yourself to breathe right now, how utterly and completely still you’re holding yourself in front of him.

Lie, a little voice in your mind supplies quietly, the little voice you keep locked inside an impenetrable box of everything you are but have never been allowed to confront, haven’t been allowed to openly think just in case someone is listening too closely. Lie. Lie, right now. Your silence is giving you away.

Only—you can’t. You shouldn’t. It’s not fair to keep this from him, not when you’re asking him to do something so structurally compromising to his belief system. If… if you tell him the truth, perhaps he won’t judge you too harshly. Perhaps he’ll feel… reassured, knowing he’s certainly not the first Jedi to break a sacred vow when he felt times were desperate enough.

Besides. This might be the only secret that could potentially get you kicked out of the Order, but… it still isn’t your worst one.

“Because.” The word is out of your mouth before you can rethink it, barely above a whisper. “I… know.”

He doesn’t respond, and no.

No, you were wrong. You were wrong to tell him the truth, and the look on his face immediately shoots panic through your whole body.

He doesn’t look reassured.

He looks… alienated.

“‘It doesn’t always?’” Your Master eventually repeats back to you, and fuck—the implication is instantly clear. The implication is made so clear from the sharpness in his tone, the hard edge to it as he rounds out the vowels in the last word that makes your heart twist and throb in your ribcage. He might as well have just asked you how many times you must’ve violated your code of honor to know the difference.

“It’s not.” You clear your throat and flick your gaze up to the ceiling, feeling like he’s using the Force to squeeze your chest in on itself. “That was the absolute worst possible sensation that can be felt during… It’s—it’s not like that. It won’t… be like that. Not.” Are there tears coming to your eyes? “Not… with me.”

Utter quiet. So quiet that if you really concentrate, you can hear the distant sounds of the arena continuing on with the Ritual without you. You bite hard at your lip and wait for him to say something, anything. Yell at you, tell you how disgusted he is, banish you from the Order.

Instead, Master Kenobi quite suddenly… deflates. He sighs—not a heavy, exhausted one, but a soft one. A quiet, accepting sort of sound.

He slowly lowers himself to the edge of the mattress and closes his eyes, running both hands through his hair, and it’s just enough to give you pause. You glance over at him, trying not to let tears fall beyond the plateau of your lower lids with the frantic downward movement of your eyes, and you’re only just barely successful at it.

“It’s alright,” he says gently. “It’s… it’s alright, young one. I… suppose I am in no place to judge. Quite… quite literally,” he murmurs, gesturing to the space around him with a lazy wave of his hand. Maker, his figure is too watery and unfocused to make out his facial expressions, but you don’t want to blink to clear your vision just in case a sudden downpour escapes. “It’s none of my business and I shouldn’t have asked. You’re… not my Padawan anymore. I should have no reason to… even care at all, really.”

There’s something that feels… major in that, something monumental yet incredibly well hidden, but you’re still too full of blind panic to interpret it further. Your breathing is shaky and you wonder, quite stupidly and not for the first time in your life, if it’s somehow possible to use the Force to evaporate the water in your eyes before it turns into tears.

“I am certain it took place in your younger years, a long time ago,” he continues calmly when you don’t immediately say anything. “You did always have a… a rather unconventional relationship with the rules.”

Your only response is a quick jerk of a nod. Yes.

“Yes,” you immediately agree, hoping your tone sounds convincing enough through the lingering tremors. “It was… a long time ago. I’ve changed, since then. Grown up in many ways.”

It’s his turn to nod, and you manage to calm down just slightly. You’re still breathing too hard and you’re a bit too braced, too much of a stance to truly feel like relief, but your heart rate is beginning to settle back into a somewhat acceptable rhythm.

Master Kenobi looks over at you, and he says absolutely nothing about the traces of water still glistening along your eyelashes. He just smiles softly and pats the space next to him.

You cautiously make your way over to him after a moment, feeling more unsure now than you’ve felt this entire mission. You leave at least a half a foot of space separating the two of you once you carefully sit yourself down on the mattress, and you can’t even look in his general direction. You just focus on the long, draping sleeves of your black robe as you look down at your hands and wait for him to speak first.

“Sometimes,” he eventually sighs. “Sometimes I… feel like you’re the person I know best in the entire galaxy, you know. I’ve… I’ve known you far longer than I ever knew my own Master, young one. I picked you out of thousands, and I’d do it thousands of times again. Sometimes—especially since the day of your accolade and subsequent absence, I feel like I can know exactly what you’re thinking, even from across an entire star system. And yet somehow, you… always surprise me. Even after all these years, I am just. Consistently surprised by you.”

You don’t know how to take that. You just sit there in a guilty silence, still unable to turn your head or offer any sort of response.

“I chose you as a Padawan because you surprised me, you know,” he reminds you quietly. “I had certain expectations for you, and you did not meet those expectations. Instead, you presented an alternative I’d never before considered, an alternative that forced me to reevaluate you—and by extension, myself—far beyond what I had previously. That is not a bad thing. It has never been a bad thing. As is made blatantly obvious by the fact that I’m the one currently standing in the way of saving lives, and you’re…not.”

Maker, this is thin ice. You don’t know what to say that’ll express hesitant agreement with his sentiment without making it sound like you’re not apologetic for breaking your oath. You’re… well, you’re not, not really. His response itself is causing you to feel far more turmoil than any legitimate regret for your actions.

“It was—” On instinct, you almost say it was a mistake regardless of the conflicts you’re just so happening to encounter on this mission, but something stops you. You suddenly remember your place here, your goal. To save the galaxy from the Separatists’ reign. And, by extension… sleep with your Master. You can’t call it a mistake if you’re going to ultimately try to convince him to do the same thing. So instead, you scramble to finish your sentence with a different thought, knowing his full attention is pinned to you right now. “…A long time ago,” is all your exhausted mind is able to come up with.

“Yes,” he gives you a small, companionable smile. “It’s alright. Your prior lapse—or, well… lapses in judgement… will forever be safe with me.”

And still, you don’t feel relief. Not when Master Kenobi very quickly appears to look uncertain.

“I… apologize,” he offers after a moment, “if. If I ever made you feel like… like you could not confide in me about any struggles or… or urges you may have been experienc—”

“Maker,” you suddenly interrupt with a frantic wave of your hands, everything cringing inside you, “Maker, we don’t have to do this. None of it, it’s okay. Know what? Let’s just go home—screw the galaxy, I don’t care, just stop talking.”

He snaps his eyes over to you, a sudden bark of laughter escaping him before the rest of his face even seems to register something was funny.

It evolves. Eventually he’s covering his face and stifling ridiculous little snorts behind his hands, trying to apologize in between the chuckles but laughing even harder. It’s almost like… just a form of pure stress relief for him. So far beyond traumatized that it’s revealing itself in a slightly hysterical way, even if what you said wasn’t hysterical at all.

“Now you have a mere glimpse into what my experience has been like today,” he finally tells you with a sparkling grin once he composes himself, lifting his chin as he looks at you and scratching his beard with a quiet flicking sound. “Shall I keep going? If this mission has taught me anything, it’s that no matter what, things can always get worse.”

“They don’t have to.” You say it without thinking, the gentle reprieve caused by his laughter flowing through you in waves and making you throw caution to the wind. The four words serve to shut him up quite quickly however, even though it was the opposite of your intent, and your smile drops. Maker, just freely conversing with him about these things is navigating a minefield for his mental state.

“You… you say that, and yet even—” Master Kenobi eventually responds, cutting himself off with a cough. “Even the things I’ve heard are meant to feel… pleasant, were just.” He shakes his head and blinks his crystal blue eyes over at you. “By all accounts. Agony.”

“I know,” you nod. “I know. Projecting that specific situation was… sadistic of them. A distortion of the truth. Probably rooted in deep tradition, but also a great scare tactic if I ever saw one, playing with us by presenting the absolute worst of it before anything else. It won’t hurt. At all. I promise. In fact—I-I can make it feel—”

Maker, you don’t even finish your sentence, but you must think the general idea loud enough for him to understand. You don’t actually have a specific word in mind—good, great, amazing, euphoric?—and yet, something quiet settles over you two at the silent implication, the mere whisper of the possibility of you pleasuring him.

And him… allowing it.

“Master, I—”

“Don’t,” he quickly tells you. “Don’t call—You don’t have to… call me that. Just for right now, it’s. I don’t—” he takes a breath that sounds shakier than it looks, and then he paints an easy, fake smile on his face following the exhale. You recognize that smile anywhere, though. While you’ve never seen him wear it before, it’s the smile that politicians make when they’re about to present a lesser truth to you, a smile shown to you in negotiations all the time that signifies something… hidden. He’s hiding something, something important, and you have no idea what it could possibly be. “I don’t feel like I even deserve to be called that right now, young one. Perhaps you should be the Master, and I the learner.”

“Ah yes, the circle is now complete,” you can’t help but jest in return, wanting to keep the tone light even though the subject matter is heavy. “Is now when we trade lightsabers?”

“Indeed,” he smiles, this time more sincere, and… you can’t pinpoint when exactly it happened, but it appears you’re physically closer to each other now than you were when you first sat down.

“Do they, uh… actually expect us to…” You clear your throat and wave a hand around, “…Project the entire time like that?”

Master Kenobi quickly shakes his head. “No. s’Zer—Queen s’Zerthia informed me that. Ah. For us, projection will only be necessary during the… well, she called it the ‘closing ceremonies.’”

Your eyebrows shoot up and you nod. “I… see.”

It’s like you can physically feel his body start to break out into a cold sweat next to you at the sudden… realness of it all, the realization that it has to be getting late. Close to midnight, if you’re not already pushing it. It’s come time to make a final decision, you both know it. You want to console him, offer him some kind of solace or reprieve, but stars, you just don’t know how, not when you’re this much of a mess about this, too, but for entirely different reasons. You don’t have a single clue how to make him feel better about any of this.

“I just,” you rush before you lose the nerve, “I want you to know that—e-even if you feel like you’re somehow alone in this, you’re not. Okay? I’m… I’m really nervous, too. I don’t… I don’t actually know what to do at all right now. I don’t know whether to respect your apprehension or tell you it’s unfounded. I don’t know if I should remind you what’s at stake here or whether I should avoid mentioning it at all costs. I have no idea what position I should take, but I’ll—I’ll take whichever one you want me to.”

And it’s odd, because when you first launched into your confession, Master Kenobi gradually began to look more and more relieved, but at a certain point, something just goes horribly wrong. You don’t know what you said, but whatever it was, it seems to rocket through your Master and suddenly his breathing stutters.

For a moment, you think he’s going to reach back, yank your neatly folded Jedi robes up from the mattress and push the dark fabric into your hands. Tell you he’ll meet you at the docking bay posthaste, tell you not to linger, tell you that the mission was a failure. But then—

“Before,” he suddenly says, the word almost startling you with how abrupt it comes out sounding. Almost like he wasn’t quite expecting himself to say it either. “Earlier today, you asked… you asked if there was anything you could do to… make this easier.”

“Yes,” you prompt immediately. He won’t look at you, and for some reason your heart begins beating faster and the inside of your thighs are getting warm.

“I… I’m not sure I’ll be able to go through with this,” he admits with a whisper, his voice sounding so quietly reluctant, like he doesn’t want to say the words aloud but is forcing himself to. “But… the Council put you in charge of negotiations.”

Your eyebrows furrow, trying to understand his implication. What does that have to do with anything? Is he saying that you’re supposed to be in charge, and therefore he’s defaulting to you? “I’m not sure I—”

“The Galactic Republic…” Master Kenobi enunciates very, very pointedly, still unable to look at you, “…put you in charge of negotiations.”

Specifying—or in this case, generalizing—doesn’t help much. “I’m still not—”

“Maker, for—for the good of the Republic, young one,” he presses under his breath and finally flicks his gaze up to meet yours, sounding urgent and torn in equal parts. “Negotiate.”

Stars, negotiate with who? With—with him? For the good of the…? Is he asking you to somehow reason with him beyond what you’ve attempted to do already, or persuade him to do what’s right for—?

Maker—Master Kenobi is asking you to seduce him.

Shock paints your expression blank and his eyes instantly evade yours once more. You have to sit there for just a second and double-check that you’re not dreaming. None of this seems real. All of it seems like an incredibly elaborate illusion of the Force, ever since you first laid eyes on him at the start of this mission. You know you missed him but stars, did you truly miss him this terribly? Your longing must rival something fierce to unconsciously conjure this wild of a scenario. Is he actually here right now? Have you been speaking to a ghost? Are you actually here right now? Are you going to wake up any second and remember he’s thousands of lightyears away and has been for years, risking his life on the front lines of galactic war while you’re left to play politics and negotiate treaties behind the scenes?

These thoughts aren’t safe to have in normal interactions with him, but nothing about this situation is normal, and while you know Master Kenobi has years of experience reading your signature, he most likely won’t be able to gauge the specific details of your thoughts when you can sense how intensely he’s focused on guarding his own chaotic mind from you.

So you let yourself think. If only for a second, you sit next to him and allow yourself to just… think about him. About how much you care for him, how desperately you ache for him—you let all these improper longings finally have their moment with you. You let yourself confront it, crack the lid of the hidden box tucked away behind your consciousness and brave it, because if there was ever a moment to do so, it’s right now.

Your heart starts slamming up against your ribcage and your hands feel like they’re tingling. He wants you to convince him to have sex with you. He’s asking you to corrupt him. He wants you to negotiate the galaxy’s survival with the last man standing in the way of its prosperity—a good man with strong, immovable morals, a man who understands the consequences that follow integrity around and won’t be easy to tempt.

“This was a bad idea,” suddenly comes Master Kenobi’s voice, quickly backpedaling after too long of a silence. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forget I said that, we should just g—”

“Would you like to meditate?” You immediately ask him on a complete whim, shuffling back towards the middle of the mattress for the second time today. You’re careful to make sure he doesn’t see you carelessly flick your neat robes to the floor with the Force, clearing the top of the large mattress. “Let’s meditate.”

“Stars,” he breathes, shyly his head turning to follow you, “I’d love nothing more, but there truly just isn’t any time—”

You find it easier than you thought it’d be to pull a playful face at him, crossing your legs and straightening your spine. “Please, you’re a Guardian. You blue sabers practically invented battle meditation, did you not?”

He looks skeptical for a moment, as he has a valid right to be. “Is this a battle?” He eventually asks over his shoulder.

You say nothing in response to that, instead using the Force with a flex of your finger to tug at the loose cream fabric of his robe at his elbow. “Come on, it’ll do us good.”

He looks conflicted for a second, but then ultimately decides to humor you. “Alright,” Master Kenobi finally agrees, turning around and crawling towards you on the mattress, and you’re just quick enough to stamp down a flicker of arousal at the mere sight of it. “It won’t hurt.”

“Of course it won’t,” you agree with just a bit too much air in your voice, but he doesn’t seem to notice it. He just seats himself directly in front of you, facing you, crossing his legs close enough to yours that your knees barely touch, and—

—Maker, he’s lovely.

You purposefully let yourself think it as his eyes slowly fall closed and he takes a deep breath, beginning to tame the wild tempest of his mind. You let the word flitter around your thoughts without instantly repressing it like you always do, and just the mere act of allowing yourself to acknowledge the truth is freeing. He’s lovely. He’s lovely. You could scream it.

Your eyes trail down the lines of his ever softening, tranquil expression, not even bothering to pretend to meditate for his benefit this time. Your gaze roams shamelessly across his face, the way his hair is combed back away from it. The sandy, masculine beard leading down to the thick column of his throat, the broad lines of his shoulders draped in pale fabric, the way his chest slowly moves as he breathes. Lovely. Lovely.

And then you go… lower.

His abdomen is stretched long with how upright he’s sitting, his flawless meditation posture. His thighs are spread wide in this position, pants stretched tight into an elusive drum over his crotch and preventing you from truly seeing anything—but stars is it a thrill even just letting yourself look.

Especially knowing that the more his mind works to compose itself, the easier it’ll be for him to hear you.

You keep thinking, growing bolder the more you’re left alone with this box wide open. You think about how lithe and strong his body is, how it would feel under your hands. You think about all the different things you want to show him, all the… the mind shattering pleasure you can give him if he’ll allow y—

Master Kenobi says your name without opening his eyes.

It doesn’t sound the way you expect, though you don’t really know what you expected it to sound like. A sharp, frustrated bark? An exasperated, pleading attempt to get you to stop?

No—none of those. It’s a quiet, low growl of a sound, and the clear warning in it absolutely burns a hole through you like he picked up his lightsaber and used it instead.

You take practiced breaths, trying to calm yourself down. Stars, he just said your name, he’s said it so many times before, and yet hearing it in his mouth with that tone in this context feels like he just strapped rockets to your ankles and told you to stay put. You’re impatient. You’re turning yourself on, working yourself up, trying to get to where you can actually make a move on him after dedicating so many years to desperately repressing the longing to do so. Once he told you to negotiate this deal with him, however, it’s as if every ounce of the impeccable self control you’ve practiced so spectacularly throughout most of your life slowly started to unravel.

Reaching out tentatively so as not to startle him, you wrap both of your palms around the bend of his knees and squeeze gently. Master Kenobi displays no physical signs of—well, anything really, keeping his body completely rigid under your hands with no noticeable alterations in his breathing pattern. Biting your lip, you begin to slowly rotate your thumbs, making sure to keep your movements slow and perfectly symmetrical. Complete relaxation is your ultimate goal here—coaxing your Master into a serene state where physical contact is desired, not obligatory. He's so uncomfortable with the concept of intimacy in and of itself though, from the way his eyebrows start to furrow and his spine begins gradually tilting back and away from you, it's almost as if your ministrations are dampening rather than fueling.

“Relax,” you murmur, and stars, even though you make it sound quiet and gentle, it’s like the melodic lull of your voice appears to startle him more than if you’d just spoken normally. Maker—it’s counterintuitive; how are you supposed to turn someone on when the mere state of being turned on turns them off? “Relax with me, it’s okay—”

“But I just can't, young one,” he suddenly implores, his voice pressed up tight in his throat, his cerulean eyes popping open in frustration and something else—an honest, heartfelt emotion that's strikingly less familiar to you, even after years spent by his side: deep, hot, stomach-wrenching guilt. You watch your Master’s palms run the length of his thighs; back and forth, back and forth—almost like a nervous tick, you think—and it’s oddly endearing, if not increasingly concerning. “I just can't, this is all so wrong. Don't you understand? E-Even if the Council did provide a—well, a rather admittedly ineluctable blessing for this downright ludicrous endeavor, i-it’s… I don't…” He takes a deep breath, and visually, it looks like he's attempting to collect his thoughts and composure, but you know your Master all too well. You know what he's really doing, and at this point, it's almost… frustrating.

“What are you so afraid of?” You clutch his knees and whisper quietly, interrupting him before he can verbalize whatever perfectly logical reason he's trying to formulate as to why you both should leave the planet immediately, what he's going to say to the Council if they ever inquire as to why negotiations ultimately failed. He jerks his head up sharply to look at you.

“The Jedi fear nothing,” is his automatic response, though his previously intense gaze strays slightly from yours after a second of too much eye contact. “Fear is the path to the Dark Side, you know this.”

“And yet you are afraid,” you remark calmly, studying the way he’s turned his face away from you completely now, how you can still see his jaw clench under the thick beard with his profile shown to you like this. “I—I’m trying to understand, Master, but I—I don’t. Even if this mission were half as important as it is, your loyalty to the Order would follow you right into an early grave. But this?” You remove a palm from his knee to gesture between the two of you, the mattress beneath the both of you, “fulfilling this mission and these terms to save the entire galaxy is too ‘downright ludicrous’ for the Great Negotiator? I don’t believe it. Tell me what you’re really afraid of.”

Only, he’s suddenly moving—away from you. Turning and planting his palms to fur, beginning to climb to the edge of the bed and sweep his legs around under him, and your voice has an unintentional edge to it when you address his back.

“Do you know how many lives over I owe you?” You ask, and he jerks to an abrupt halt, feet just shy of stepping on the floor. “Do you have any idea the stockpile of mortal gratitude you’ve amassed from me? How many times you’ve risked your death to save me from mine over the years—can you count them? I have. I know my debt to you, I know the weight of my life piled on top of itself over and over again. I remember each and every one of them like they happened yesterday, and not once did you hesitate even slightly, let alone the way you’ve hesitated today.”

”And?” Master Kenobi quite suddenly snaps over his shoulder as he grips the edge of the mattress, sounding sharp but not necessarily directed towards you. “What is your point?”

“My point is that if you’d so readily trade your death time and time again to prevent that of even one other person, let alone a difficult Padawan who caused the Order nothing but grief for years, then what is it that makes the deaths of trillions—” you nearly say preferable to bedding me before you realize how incredibly harsh that would sound, but something about the way he seems to tense his shoulders and curl inwards implies he was following the general cadence of your agitated signature more than the specific content of your words.

He says absolutely nothing, but he doesn’t move to drop his feet to the floor, either. If only you could punch a proverbial hole through his practically indestructible mental barriers, you'd see the real reason he's so flustered, why he's purposely attempting to deceive you. Unfortunately for you though, they feel like they're made of triple-reinforced beskar, a countermeasure gradually increasing in strength the more you try to probe.

But then—all at once, something clicks. Something… fundamental. An understanding.

Your Master is a gifted negotiator, yes. But more than that.

He wields a blue saber. Not a green one.

He’s a Guardian. A warrior. He fights. It’s something that has never truly been part of your nature, no matter how much you struggled with it over the years—but it is a part of his, no matter how exceptionally he’s been able to mask it for even longer.

So, all at once, you stop pushing. Your signature abruptly pulls away from him, gives him room to breathe and simply hovers within your own personal space, unassuming and careful not to disturb him. You see your Master lift his chin and straighten his spine slightly, immediately noticing your absence and the constant pressure you’d been applying, and you honestly can’t tell if he relaxes or tenses up even more because of it.

Finally, when you feel like it’s been long enough, you slowly reach out and gently place your hand on his arm. This time, there’s no underlying motivation attached, no inherent desire for him to fulfill any sort of obligation. Just a warm, companionable gesture to reinforce the simple knowledge that you’re both in this together, for better or worse.

Please tell me, Obi-Wan, you quietly whisper to him through the Force, allowing your tone and energy to transfer through your open palm and into his troubled spirit as softly and gently as you possibly can—a caress more than anything even close to a sentence or inquiry. Your usage of his first name is entirely unprecedented however, and your Master sucks in a sharp breath in response.

I don't… But then the subconscious, half-formed thought fades away almost as quickly as it’s offered to you from behind the solid, unyielding fortress of his mind. “W-what are you doing?”

You bite your lip, wondering how honest you should be with him right now. Though, you suppose, if you truly want him to confide in you, you should at least meet him halfway.

“You’re the locked door,” you finally settle on. “This is me knocking.”

Obi-Wan turns around and blinks at you, looking for all the stars in this galaxy like that was quite possibly the last thing he expected you to say. You can see the frantic thoughts pass through his eyes almost as if the clear blue was completely transparent, likely remembering all the times you’ve leaned on him for guidance, listened intently and learned from his wisdom and experience. And now you’re a fully grown woman patiently offering him your ear, wondering if you’ve earned enough of his trust for him to do the same.

“I’m afraid I’ll form an attachment to you.” The words tumble from his mouth even though his body all but whips away from you in the process. “It’s unreasonable for the Council to expect this from me. From us. I’m afraid our relationship will forever be tarnished from this, that neither of us will ever be able to go back to the way things were before. I’m afraid that regardless of whatever decision I make, I won’t be able to carry the guilt on my conscience and continue to call myself a Jedi and Guardian of the Republic. But mostly, I just—I-I—”

Your heart is pounding as Obi-Wan buries his face into his hands and his muffled voice groans raggedly, “—I’m afraid I’ll like it. I’m afraid I’ll want it again, and again. I’m afraid it’ll follow me back to Coruscant, that I’ll save the galaxy but spend the rest of my days aching for something I’ll never be able to keep, and that’s petrifying. Desire, passion, selfishness, possession; all of them lead to Darkness, and I can—I can feel it right now. Your soul is so gentle, so peaceful, and yet you… you inspire such Darkness in me, dove.”

Maker, you’re trying so hard. So hard to keep your legs from clenching together at the utter desperation in his tone, how his breathing has picked up now that the words have ripped themselves out of his throat, like the whole thing was physical agony even just to say. You have to take a second. You’ve been so patient this entire time, but stars—this one makes you need a moment. You’re so glad his eyes are clamped shut behind his fingers right now because yours lose focus trying to mask the absolutely debilitating wave of arousal that sinks down hot through your stomach.

Even when you regain the ability to speak, the ability to form a safe and proper response to the bombshell he just dropped on you completely evades you.

You purposefully don't say that you're already helplessly attached to him, that the colors of the galaxy somehow lost their brilliance the day you graduated to Knight, the day you left his side. You don't say that you want this so badly you can feel it in your neck, that it would probably break you in half if he said no to this now. Though it's the honest-to-Maker truth, you know discovering this information will only cause your Master to further distance himself from you, and somehow that thought alone is a million times worse than being denied the opportunity to be this close to him. Even… even if what you end up sharing is more emotional than physical.

So you take a deep breath to center yourself, and choose your words very carefully.

“A compromise, then.”

Obi-Wan suddenly raises his head, turning around to look at you and blinking twice. “A what?”

“You told me to negotiate. What do we do as negotiators, hm?” You raise an eyebrow, giving him a gentle smile and trying not to curl your fingers into the fur underneath you with how hard it is to conceal your burning arousal. Do it for him. Do it for your Master, you’re in l—you… care about him, and you care about the things he cares about, even if doing so feels like it’ll rip you apart. “We compromise. Yes? So, let’s find one.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t see h—”

“If you were to…” You cut him off and look down, trying to find the most delicate way to phrase this. “If you were to… find other means to bring yourself to completion, would you be able to convince anyone listening that I was the one doing it?”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even blink this time. He just stares at you, holding himself like a statue in front of you. Finally, he seems to find himself. “I… I don’t—I don’t know if I can.”

“You’re stronger in the Force than anyone on this planet, Master,” you encourage softly, placing a hand back on his arm and squeezing this time. “I’ve felt it.”

“N-No,” he practically hiccups. “No, I mean I-I… I don’t know if… if I can.”

Your eyebrows narrow, a mixture of confusion and concern coloring your expression. “If you can…?”

He looks back at you almost desperately, his eyes practically begging you to figure it out so he doesn’t have to say it. Finally, Obi-Wan sighs, seeming to collapse in on himself with its intensity. “I—I’ve never… purposefully reached completion before,” he admits. “I’m—I’m not sure how to.”

Your eyes widen, wanting to kick yourself for making assumptions. Of course. Of course he’d follow his oath to its strictest interpretation, why would you ever think otherwise? “Oh, y-yes, of course not,” you stutter, sounding incredibly stupid and perfectly mirroring the embarrassed flush also painting your Master’s cheeks, “I didn’t mean to imply—”

“It’s alright,” he holds up a hand. “We simply… view such things differently. So long as you do not pass judgment, then neither shall I.”

You nod and look down at your hands, wondering how else you can attempt to tackle this predicament. “What if I…” You blink slowly, almost wanting to keep your eyes closed in case he’s offended by the idea but figuring you should have them open to read his responses. “What if I… don’t touch you?”

Now he just looks confused. “I’m sorry?”

You blush and clear your throat, obviously phrasing this wrong. “If you can modify the context of your projection, then I can… get you there. Without touching you.”

“How could you accomplish such a thing without tou—” Obi-Wan immediately cuts himself off when you lift your hand and close your eyes.

His thigh. The right one—you focus on it. There. Right above the bend of his knee folding over the edge of the mattress, you concentrate all the energy from your fingertips and reach out, connecting the two together. And then you take a deep breath and begin to draw your attention slowly upwards.

Your Master’s breath catches in his throat as you use the Force to delicately trail further up his leg, not laying a single hand on him as his muscles start to visibly tighten and quiver.

“Young one, I—” His breathing stutters when you keep your hand raised but let your head tilt and drop down towards your shoulder with your energy, slinking down the inside of his thigh like water and getting dangerously close to his— “Stars, hang on—”

You blink your eyes open at him and continue concentrating right there, letting your focus melt warm and thick along the muscle and squeeze it—

“Maker—” Obi-Wan gasps and drops his head back, his legs nearly spasming apart. “Maker, hang on, I…”

“Do you…” You breathe tightly, flicking your eyes down to the way he’s fisting the fur under his hands and subconsciously flexing his hips up just the slightest bit. Even though the Force, his body feels good. Strong, sturdy, and braced tight under your attention. “Do you want me to keep doing this? I can… go higher.”

“You can…? The—the Force isn’t—” Obi-Wan groans, his eyes clamping shut, “—isn’t meant to be used in such… in such… If I’m to break my oath, young one, it needn’t be so… so blasphemous—”

Trying to conceal the hot sparks of arousal deep in your stomach, you simply allow your metaphysical hand to continue resting right at the juncture of his hip and thigh, waiting for a real answer. You bite your lip and wait for him to tell you to either cut it out or to keep going. He doesn’t even have to say it out loud if he doesn’t want to—he can just slide it under the impassable door still separating him from you, the door you’re eventually going to get him to unlock himself.

His back is to you, so you can only see a bit of his face from this angle, but you can hear him loud and clear when he opens his mouth and whispers to you, barely louder than a breath. “Go higher.”

Adrenaline rockets through your veins and slowly, your fingers curl in thin air while your gentle energy wraps itself around his cock.

Both of Obi-Wan’s hands instantly fly up to his face and he releases a tight, longing whimper into his palms, and you feel almost as desperate as he sounds. You can sense the ghost of his thickness in your hand, and the way he’s already throbbing for it is like pure spice to you.

You can’t stop your crossed legs from shuffling and rotating your body to face his hunched spine more directly, just taking a second and allowing him to adjust to the sensation of you just holding him between his legs like this. Your fingers rest gently along his pulsing skin while he hides from you, and if only to get a little bit more of a reaction for your own sake, your thumb just barely angles to delicately brush up under his frenulum.

Obi-Wan shudders and makes a choking noise behind his palms, and oh good Maker, you really want to see his face. You know it’ll probably never happen unless you take your own initiative, but you also don’t want to overstep and snap him out of this blissful reverie. Still, something compels you to be so gentle about it that he hopefully won’t even notice.

You start to slowly work the length of him and squeeze his cock a bit more firmly, but a tendril of your energy slowly slithers upwards, so quiet and full of caution that it hardly even counts. Very carefully, you start to flatten the lifeforce from your other palm over his stomach and trail it up, gradually urging him to stretch his slouched figure upright and then eventually start to tip backwards, never once letting your focus on his throbbing erection falter.

Your courageous efforts bestow prosperous rewards. Obi-Wan’s hands drag down the length of his face and he makes it almost too easy to keep pressing him back—back back back until his muscles give up what little fight they were putting up against it and his shoulders are dropping down to the mattress, his head falling into your lap.

“There we go,” you whisper under your breath, just loud enough to softly encourage him if he’s listening but avoiding a break in his focus if he’s not. “That’s not so bad.”

“It isn’t,” Obi-Wan gasps up at you, his eyes tightly closed but his jaw slack and his handsome features screwed up in rapture. “Oh, no, it’s… it’s really… rea—good.”

You bite your lip and your cunt flexes hard between your legs without your permission, feeling so empty. If you’re being honest, only touching him through the Force causes your hand to become increasingly bold, also feeling too empty. Obi-Wan’s head rolls to the side and he pants hot air against the thin black fabric covering your thighs as you tighten your hold around him just slightly and start to move up and down his cock in earnest.

“Fuck,” he whispers, the dirty word and rasp in his voice contrasting brilliantly with the proper Coruscanti accent and the crisp enunciation behind it. “Fuck, this feels so good, I—”

His fingers grab at the fur covering the mattress top and pull at it, his adam’s apple bobbing sharp along the arching column of his throat as he groans and twists his head around in your lap. He confesses it like it’s so wrong, but it can’t be wrong when he fits so perfectly in your hand? How can this be wrong when it’s the only pleasure you can possibly give him that’s anywhere near close enough to match the way you feel when he’s around? Even then, it’s but a fraction.

Your gaze flickers briefly from his face to check your progress with his body, and—stars, there’s a startling wet spot staining the front of his pale trousers, his cock tenting up shameless and needy for you to ache and throb just as desperately for in return. Fuck, he deserves this, he deserves more—

“I can—I can make it better—” you can’t help but gasp, your eyebrows slanting upwards with need. “Oh fuck, I can make it so much better than this for you, Obi-Wan—”

“You…?” He blinks his stormy eyes open and sounds like he’s about to explode. “This can be—” he chokes out, “—better?”

You can’t stop yourself. Your pussy is clamped up so tight between your legs and Maker, you want to reward him for being so good to you, give him true adoration instead of phantom touches. You don’t think before you’re moving out from under him and slinking down onto the floor, slipping in between his spread thighs. You use the Force with a bend of your finger to tug his pants down just enough, just enough to let the swollen tip of his cock peak through the waistband, and then your head is dropping into his lap as you let it slide into your hot mouth.

Obi-Wan lifts his head and snarls at you—and something across the room shatters as you widen your throat for him and slowly sink down his length, curling your finger to stretch his hemline further as you go. His fingers aren’t gentle when they fist into your hair and neither is the way he immediately twists it sideways, feeling like he’s trying to pull you off and shove you down on him at the same time.

You’re stuck between going as slow as you physically can to drag this out and giving him the best oral you’ve ever given to make him dream about this for the rest of his life. You want him to want this as badly as you have for so many years. You want him to fall into this Darkness with you, to crave you and what you can give to him so much that he’ll never want to leave you again.

So you make it wet. You make it soft and slow and wet, switching between sucking gently at the tip and swirling your tongue around it, and then inching his length down your throat and swallowing around the thick girth of it once you can’t fit anymore in your mouth. Obi-Wan is just an absolute mess about it—he can’t sit still, he’s tugging uselessly on your hair, whimpering out his bliss into the quiet room while you close your eyes and ignore his squirming, just taking your sweet time enjoying him and the way he feels.

He tastes exquisite. Maybe it’s just because all your broken, stupid brain can think right now is slightly varying forms of my Master’s cock is in my mouth and it’s fucking leaking while you slowly nurse from it with your tongue, but stars—he tastes exquisite.

He’s swollen. Throbbing. Aching for you. Releasing precum from the tip like his body is producing way too much of it after decades of neglect and just needs to get it all out at once. Shifting and writhing underneath you but managing to never move his hips or cock a single inch away from the soft attention you’re giving him. You can feel his smooth skin pulse against your tongue as you continue your lazy pleasuring, finally giving him what you’ve both been denied for so long and steadily swallowing down the spoils of your endeavors.

“—Wait, wait, Maker—stop,” you faintly hear gasped from above you not long after you even begin, and it takes the sum of all your efforts to unlodge his throbbing cock from your throat and pull away from him.

“I’m sorry,” you exhale automatically, trying not to slur your words as a bit of drool slides down your chin. “I’m s’sorry, Obi, I should’ve asked before I—”

“Something’s… n-not right,” Obi-Wan interrupts you and lifts himself up to his elbows, his abdominal muscles heaving and a wild, frenzied look in his startlingly bright eyes. “My stomach was—I-I felt—”

Heat blooms through you along with a realization, and your eyelids begin to droop slightly at just how sexy it is—the fact that this man, this fully grown, red-blooded, warrior of a man is currently teetering on the precipice of his very first ever orgasm, and you’re the only one with the power to give it to him.

You shuffle backwards slightly, grabbing hold of his thighs and squeezing to get his attention. “Hey. It’s okay, relax.”

Obi-Wan nods his head vigorously down at you, the exact opposite of relaxed.

“Listen to me,” you urge quietly, trying to ignore the sight of his thick, swollen cock twitching restlessly against his abdomen, precum still steadily dribbling at the tip. Is your mouth watering? “This is it. You’ll need to start projecting when you’re ready. It’ll be tricky, but not impossible. You’ll just have to imagine you’re inside me when it happens.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head vigorously from side to side, vehemently opposed.

“No, I don’t—” He croaks, “—I don’t know what it’s like, I won’t be able to—”

“Doesn’t my mouth feel similar at least?” You ask, looking down at his cock once more.

“I-I—” Obi-Wan sputters, “I don’t know, young one—you tell me!”

Okay, well. He… makes a valid point.

You settle back on your knees even further, gazing at your Master thoughtfully. His chest continues to rise and fall with heavy breaths, a thin sheen of sweat coating his temples and a mild flush high in his cheeks, but his eyes have regained a bit of their focus. “You can just try to imagine the, uh,” you try, your cunt nearly convulsing with burning need at the mere sight of him, “the same positioning and sensation from… earlier?”

“Alright, I can…” Obi-Wan nods, though his hands are shaking. “I’ll do the best I…”

You can’t help but lean forward to press a soft, encouraging kiss to his thigh, and he jerks under your touch. You try it again, receiving the same result, and it makes you pause for just a minute longer.

“I’m nervous,” he blurts unceremoniously after a moment of stillness, as if you hadn’t noticed. “Oh stars, I’m nervous, I—”

“Obi-Wan,” you let your voice lull, your hands squeezing gently around the bend of his knees once more. “Calm down. Clear your mind.”

He hiccups and you wait. You wait with your mouth a few inches away from his cock, waiting for his breathing to slow and for him to follow your lead.

Can you hear me? You murmur through the Force, and he quickly whimpers and nods. Focus your thoughts.

You gently kiss at his tensing thighs once again, and he doesn’t flinch away from you this time. His breathing slows into a calmer, steadier rhythm, letting you trail your lips gently along the curve of his leg.

Will you let me try something? You ask after a moment, opening your mouth just the slightest bit to brush your tongue out and taste his skin.

“Y-Yes,” Obi-Wan says quietly, his breath stuttering through the word.

And—perhaps you shouldn’t have, but you give him something; a suggestion, more than anything else. You give him a… visual. A reference to guide his mind through the Force.

You, still in your black robe, slowly standing up from between his legs. Widening your stance to straddle his lap, pull you robes up just enough, and then adjust your hips just slightly over the head of his cock.

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at the vision, his eyes clamping tightly shut against it in vain. He can close his eyes, turn away, hide his face all he wants—he can’t escape the way your body looks as it slowly begins to sink down on his.

At the exact same time, you lower your mouth around his cock once more, and you try to make it as close to the sensation as possible. You don’t even move your tongue, you simply lift your soft palate and close your lips around his girth, beginning to carefully bob up and down along his length in time to the image you’re conjuring of you riding him.

Only, you already feel his balls tightening up and his body starting to go rigid with tension once again, and you can sense him still wanting to resist his approaching orgasm. It’s okay, Master, you encourage quietly through the vision, it’s okay, just let it come easy.

“I—I’m not—” he shakes his head back and forth against the bed frantically, his breathing getting shallower and almost immediately picking back up to where it was before you stopped. “I d-don’t want—”

Stop fighting, you tell him, continuing to mimic the sensation of him thrusting into your aching, neglected cunt with slow and steady movements of your throat. Don’t run from it, let it take you.

He grits your name tightly in response and subconsciously begins to rock his hips up to match your unhurried pace, his ragged breathing gasping out into the quiet room and gradually increasing in volume and desperation the longer he stubbornly tries to hold out against it.

You know not strong enough to use the Force to coax it out of him. You can’t alter your technique and break the illusion, either. So you have to resort to desperate measures.

There’s enough remaining wherewithal to your mind that prevents you from permanently damaging his clothing when you tear his robes open with the Force and allow the metaphysical image of yourself to rip them apart with your hands. Obi-Wan gasps when both versions of you reach up his bare torso at the same time and dig your nails into his chest.

Master—you demand, taking his cock down your throat as far as you can go and then clawing hard down his stomach—cum.

And thank everything good and right in the universe that he remembers at the very last second to start projecting, because being this close to someone as strong in the Force as Obi-Wan when he finally succumbs to his first taste of the Dark Side is just a fucking atomic missile straight to your nervous system.

It’s all you can do to just remember to keep swallowing.

The projection he casts out through the shockwave is utterly flawless—brilliantly composed, looking and feeling so authentic and overwhelming even from this distance that there should be no issue at all convincing any s’Ziscari in the wide vicinity who are tuning in right now.

Except—then you hear it. Through the roaring pleasure of his thoughts, a flicker of his subconscious he’s unable to mask through the mind blowing bliss.

Is she…? Maker above, she’s drinking it—

A ragged groan tears through the silence of the room, his cock pulsing spectacularly on your tongue. He just keeps cumming, and cumming, and so you just have to keep swallowing, and swallowing. You suppose you should’ve expected this from a fully grown man who lived a life of celibacy, but what would typically be a rather short moment with anyone else subsequently goes on long enough to where Obi-Wan is actually able to lazily raise his head up from the mattress and simply watch you continue to swallow his load, dazed and reverent in his stare, glassy blue eyes trained on the hypnotic movements your jaw and throat make around him. The remaining traces of whatever visual he attempted to maintain immediately flicker out of existence, replaced instead by the sight of your mouth around his cock, diligently taking down each rope of cum he gives you.

When he finally stops throbbing, you reluctantly let his cock fall from your mouth and slowly stand up as the botched projection fizzles out completely. His gaze eventually follows the movement like he’s on a five second delay.

“So, uh…” Your voice is hoarse. “We… need to have sex.”

“Alright,” he agrees dreamily, his eyes lazily dragging down your body. “Alright, we can have… I… Wait, what?”

“You, uh. I know it wasn’t intentional, but you might’ve, uh…” You shuffle awkwardly from side to side, wondering why you’ve chosen now of all moments to become shy with him. You’re literally still savoring the taste of his release in your mouth. “You might’ve accidentally projected a very specific thought towards the end there and let everyone know that we weren’t actually doing what we’re technically supposed to be doing.”

“What did… what did I think?” The question would likely be nonsense in literally any other situation, but you understand. And truthfully, for the life of you, you can’t find it within yourself to feel even a little bit mad about it, not when it means you can continue doing this together. You can’t even conjure up a single shred of disappointment in his failure, it’d just be a lie.

“Doesn’t matter,” you assure him, your heart continuing to pound. You know you should make your next move now while he’s still so loopy, the post-orgasm bliss causing his signature to vibrate with pulsing endorphins as he blinks up at you slowly from the bed. “Though we won’t be able to do it for a little bit, just uh. Just for general… anatomical reasons. But that should’ve at least counted for… initiating the Ritual, so I don’t think we have to worry about time anymore.”

Obi-Wan just stares at you, his Force signature feeling more serene and spaced out than you’ve ever sensed before. Oh Maker, how you wish you felt the same. You swallow thickly, still tasting his hard orgasm on your tongue, and then try not to clamp your thighs together with how embarrassingly turned on you are. Anyone with any experience whatsoever would know exactly what you’re going through with just a mere glance—you’re biting your lip with your entire body is subtly crumpled in towards your swollen, neglected pussy—and your Master has been watching you struggle through it this entire time.

“Are you alright?” He asks dumbly, finally managing to at least push himself upright, still completely unaware or unconcerned at his softening cock on full display for you and your starving libido. “You’re… shaking.”

“I—won’t die,” is the only serious assurance you can make to both him and yourself right now that’ll ease your suffering the smallest bit. The last thing you want right now is to come on too strong and snap him back to his senses, bringing everything back to square one. “Just, uh… r-really worked—worked up. Trying to just. C-Cool it?”

Your fingers flex at your sides because no matter what you try, you just can’t stop thinking about his. They’re right there. They’re so close, so strong and thick and—

“Aren’t you…” He trails off, letting his head tilt and then drop to his shoulder with a combination of confusion and exhaustion. “Aren’t you going to…?”

“To what?” You prompt shortly, your hands suddenly clenching into fists to deal with another violent wave of arousal at how unbelievably drunk he still looks. Maker, you did that. That’s all you.

“s’Zerthia said all—” Obi-Wan murmurs, blinking long lashes lazily up at you, “—all Jedi must… participate.”

Fuck. Just hearing him provide you an excuse to give into the boiling arousal causes you to suddenly break out into a sweat. You don’t know if he wants you to get yourself off or if he’s indirectly implying he wants to help, but you’re so far beyond desperate that you jump at the chance as soon as he so much as hints at the opportunity.

Very slowly, you move forward and lift one trembling knee to brace next to his thigh on the mattress, and then carefully swing your other leg over his lap, lowering yourself into a straddle in the same exact position he attempted to project earlier. You’re so unbelievably cautious about his cock, making sure you don’t accidentally touch it and jolt him awake. Instead of your newfound proximity scaring him away like you feared though, he stays so… docile. Still so relaxed from his very first orgasm that he even rests his large palms over the thin fabric covering your thighs, letting the loose silk drape and fold over his hands as he drags them up and down.

His eyes follow your trembling fingers as you work at the knot tying the material around your body, your cunt throbbing between your legs at how he’s just… staring. His eyelids are dipped slightly, breathing so calm and slouched under you, pliant and waiting.

The thin fabric slowly parts only enough to reveal the valley between your bare chest to him, and you watch his eyes fall down the thin strip of skin and catch on the dark line of your panties riding low on your hips. Maker, you can’t help but remember his terror at even glimpsing the two acolytes taking off their robes earlier—the way his eyes bounced around and how his cheeks lost whatever color they had left to them as soon as he finally made himself look. Now, though. Now he can’t seem to drag his eyes away from the soft flesh of your tummy, the way your nipples are still covered by the thin fabric of your slightly parted robe but are impossible to miss while your breasts subtly move with your breathing.

You gently call one of his wrists to your hand with the Force and Obi-Wan is either mentally or physically too weak to resist your will. He allows you to catch his hand and slowly lead it downwards with both of your smaller ones to the part of your body that’s longed for his attention for years, though now it’s absolutely weeping for it.

You don’t want to scare him. You don’t want to scare him. Oh Maker, you need him to be brave for you right now, or at least just continue to be stupefied. You can work with stupefied, but you cannot work with panic, especially when you feel your own wanting to rise up the more you drag this out.

When the tips of his fingers brush against the waistband of your panties, Obi-Wan’s hand pushes under it without your guidance.

You’re throbbing. It’s been years in the making. Unable to stop the way your thighs contract and you lift your hips against his palm as it steadily curves down the slope of your soft curls, the sight of the finish line so within reach makes you reckless and too quick. You can’t help it. When he gets hesitant and eventually slows down to a halt right above your slit, you don’t even think before you’re suddenly giving his wrist an abrupt shove with the Force, pulling his hand down before he’s ready and forcing his middle finger deep through the soaking cleft of your pussy.

Your shameless moan of his name comes out sounding so grateful—you pour everything you have into it and sag into Obi-Wan’s chest at the feeling, but he startles and all but rips his hand out of your underwear before you can stop him. He was a hair’s breadth from touching your clit and the denial of it—the sudden turnaround from your goal is just so massively overwhelming that tears suddenly spring to your eyes.

You can just barely make out the sight of him staring down at his trembling hand between the two of you, your slick shining wet and hot along the length of his finger.

“Stars,” he rasps, blinking his wide, sapphire gaze up to yours—and then he quite suddenly looks alarmed. “Did I—Did I hurt you?” Obi-Wan gasps, his energy beginning to outright seize with distress while you blink rapidly and try not to crumble on his lap.

“No—I’m sorry, it’s just—I’m just… oh, fuck, I n-need it,” you stammer. “Oh fuck, I need it Master, I’m so sorry—I’m trying to be calm but—”

“What is it, little dove?” He urges, reaching his hand up to your face and flicking his eyes back and forth between yours, sounding almost as panicked as you do from your desperation. “What do you need?”

“Oh stars, Obi-Wan, I need you to just—” You can’t fit anything into words, a tear finally making its way down your cheek when you clamp your eyes shut in frustration. You just need him to understand, to give you what you’ve been craving for so long—but when you blink your eyes back open, his troubled expression has suddenly resolved itself.

Your Master’s hands immediately grab tight to your hips and twist you around, easily tossing you back up onto the mattress. The jostle of bouncing back into the soft fur startles you, but not nearly as much as when he climbs over your body and braces an elbow next to your head, gently placing the tips of his fingers to your temple.

He pushes carefully but firmly against your natural mental barriers, flexing the energy shields inwards gently enough to not hurt you but with enough force to let you know he’s entirely capable of breaking through should you refuse to let him in.

So you do. You let him in without a single thought, never mind a second one. Obi-Wan gasps as your shields all but collapse for him that easily, and then he’s finally breaching the surface of your thoughts.

“Oh—Maker above, little one,” he grits almost immediately, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and his other hand wrapping tight around your arm as he struggles to acclimate to the blinding distress you’re experiencing. “Collect—” he groans as your cunt clamps down at the rasp of his broken voice, “—collect yourself. I can’t—can’t think—”

Oh, no, it’s too much. It’s way too much, even just having him inside your head without being able to read him in return—it’s too much for you. You start hyperventilating and instead of wanting him out, you just want to drown out the sensation of everything else. The endlessly pulsing, aching throb between your legs that you’ve been dealing with for so long, the way you can feel his cock dragging against your tummy from this angle and how much you already want it in your mouth again, the way your nipples are so hard right now that even this soft fabric feels so rough and sharp against—

Your robe suddenly rips itself off your chest, and you whimper up at the ceiling as you dig your fingers into thick fur and writhe under him, almost completely naked and just desperate for him to do something, to at least just use his hands or his mouth to make you feel bet—

Obi-Wan’s head drops and his blazing mouth opens hot around your nipple, his tongue rolling soft and slick up under the hard bud.

You choke out the first part of his name and you barely even have a flicker of a thought—a brief flash of a rabid, baser desire you’re not even able to consciously recognize before you feel his jaw opening and his teeth closing gently around it, biting down just hard enough to make you spasm bright and urgent between your legs. “Oh, fuck—”

As soon as you feel the pleasure and twisting ache spark deep in your core, Obi-Wan flutters his eyes shut and wedges his hand back into your panties, humming low in his throat when your legs jerk apart for him.

This time, your clit is the very first thing he touches.

He zeroes in on it. The tip of his finger starts to rub it exactly how you’d do it to yourself, exactly the right angle and speed and pressure that your body suddenly feels massively overheated and dizzy from it. It blindsides you. It makes sense he’d be able to do this, after all, but for some reason, the whole thing just absolutely blindsides you.

“Maker,” you whimper at the ceiling, soft and pitched high in your throat, eyes rolling back when Obi-Wan gently bites down on your nipple again and continues to work to relieve you even as every muscle in your body feels like it’s tightening up.

“Stars—” he whispers when he pulls away, “This—this feels incredible, Padawan.”

You moan and roll your hips against his hand, on cloud nine at just how he’s slowly allowing himself to become filthier with you, to lower himself in all his righteous beliefs and descend into delicious sin with you, and—

—wait, did he just…?

Your cunt clamps down hard with realization as he continues massaging your clit better than you’ve ever even done it yourself. Maker, it shouldn’t turn you on so much but it does, hearing that word in this context. Padawan. Padawan, holding her legs open while her Master explores her pussy. Padawan, moaning desperately as her orgasm buzzes deep down inside with a rising, threatening resonance. Padawan, Padawan, Padawan—

“Oh, you liked that,” Obi-Wan remarks tightly, taking a second to tug on your clit. You nearly start to cry again, your insides pulling up and going rigid at the sensation. “I heard it, little one. You like it when I call you that?”

“Oh I like it when you do f-fucking anything,” you choke out helplessly, your words starting to slur together. “Oh fuck, you’re so amazing, you’re so good at everything, you’re the best Jedi in the whole entire galaxy Master, you’re so much better th—”

“My, you’re agreeable like this, aren’t you?” Obi-Wan grits, his touches growing stronger and quicker and rocketing you straight to the edge of madness. “Shall I take that to heart, my darling little Padawan? Or did you say such flattering things to the oth—”

“Wait!” You suddenly exclaim, desperately trying to push his hands away. “Oh, nonononono—wait, wait, wait, I—I-I’m about to cum—I need to—”

His hand yanks itself out of your underwear once more and you take giant, gasping breaths and try to compose yourself at least somewhat, but then your Master is quickly scrambling down your body and using the Force to rip your panties down your hips—

“Obi-Wan, wait—” you choke out, “that isn’t—you don’t… h-have to…”

He looks up at you, dark brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’ll be able to—y-you don’t—” You have to take a few gasping breaths and remember how to speak Basic. “I used my mouth on you before because I… I wanted to. If—If you don’t want to do that, you don’t have to. It’s not… oh fucking stars above, it’s not n-necessary.”

“Are you telling me this because you don’t want me to?” He immediately asks, though you both already clearly know the answer to that considering how exposed your wild thoughts are to him right now.

“Ah, no I, uh… I just.” You try to clear the thickness from your throat and you feel your body tremble while you focus as much effort as possible into trying to explain. “I just want to be sure I’m not taking advantage of you, that’s all, I—I want you to know the truth about these things. It’s not… necessary, b-but.”

“But.” He repeats the word meaningfully as he glances back down at your weeping cunt, nodding slowly to himself.

And then your Master leans in, flutters his eyes shut, and slides his warm tongue deep into the seam of your pussy with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever.

“Obi—Wan—!?” You gasp, somewhere between a squeak and a squeal, your entire upper body launching upwards around his head as your clit is immediately enveloped into a slick, dexterous furnace.

Hold still, you hear his voice warn through the Force, sounding so much closer than you’ve ever heard him before. Whether that can be attributed to the fact that the command came directly from wherever he is inside your head or whether it’s simply because his tongue is now tracing gentle circles around your clit as you whimper pitifully into the quiet of the dimly lit room, you’re not sure. All you know is that his mouth feels like velvet between your legs and his beard is scraping across your thighs and your fingers have buried themselves in his hair without your conscious permission.

Hold still, young one, he urges once more, but you just close your eyes and moan shamelessly at it this time, opening your legs wider for him. His voice, it’s… it’s maddening like this, coming directly from your own thoughts. Deep, precise, somehow sounding so true, so much clearer and full-bodied without your pesky ears in the way. Your hips are subconsciously rolling slowly against the lower half of his face when Obi-Wan apparently decides he’s had enough.

An invisible energy wraps around each of your individual limbs and snaps them against the mattress without any warning. You whimper high in your throat, arms and legs held so firmly against the bed with the Force that your internal struggles aren’t able to be translated outwardly; he doesn’t allow your body a single centimeter to move under him, no matter how hard you fight it. Which means you have to lay there and just take the way Obi-Wan’s hot mouth continues to lick and kiss at your clit slowly, taking all the time in the universe to properly explore you between the legs he’s forced apart.

“Obi—” you croak breathlessly at the ceiling, feeling a familiar heat start to burn hot and tight through your core, “Obi, I—I have to p-project—before I—ah!—before you—before you ma-make me cu—ugh, f-fuck—I have t-to—”

Then project, he encourages simply, gently fluttering his tongue over your clit. You gasp and he hums, murmuring through the Force once more to you. We’re not hiding anymore. They’ll all know I’m using my mouth on you like this. It’s alright. Let them know.

You realize you’re going to cum the second you hear your Master’s voice say the words using my mouth on you like this while he slowly sucks on your clit, and you barely have enough wherewithal to gulp in a giant breath and begin projecting your signature as far across the palace and surrounding city as physically possible before your body shatters hot into searing euphoria under him.

Obi-Wan groans deep in his throat and holds you perfectly still under him as you cum with a ragged, hoarse wail of his name, giant waves of white hot bliss beginning to radiate through the Force from you with spectacular power. The contractions are so much more pronounced when it’s one of the only sets of muscles in your body he’s granted permission to move. It’s like everything is concentrated and multiplied there because of it. You can feel each individual spasm your floor muscles make as they convulse against his tongue, how each blazing shot of ecstasy that shatters through your body wrings more and more wetness from your cunt into your Master’s mouth.

Never. Ever ever ever. Has anyone done something so mind blowingly sexy to you. Nobody. Ever. He’s a virgin, you frantically remember as Obi-Wan purrs softly into the folds of your pussy while it cums all over him.

Your thoughts, young one, you can just barely make out his voice remind you gently, just as gently as he sucks on your clit through the aftershocks, somehow sounding even more aroused than he did before.

After allowing your projection to flicker out of existence with a putter, you’re completely dazed. Incapable of moving regardless of the way he keeps you pinned with the Force long after he pulls away, slowly moves back up your body and waits while you work to regain your bearings. You don’t even want to open your eyes right now, knowing he’s looking down at your peaceful expression while you work to catch your breath. You’re too stupid with pleasure you almost don’t even process the soft touch of something against your lips.

You’re lovely.

The thought is so quiet you don’t even recognize it isn’t your own. Not until he keeps pressing his lips to yours so sweetly, not knowing to do anything else when your mind is too fractured with ecstasy to unconsciously act as his compass like before. Everything is innocent and gentle and not reminiscent of the fact that the robes you’re both wearing are wide open and your mouths tasted of each other even before he kissed you.

Instead of melting into the soft touches, though, they just start to burn you alive, the thick fog of your orgasm clearing more and more with each gentle press of his lips and your need for him steadily growing. He’s kissing you. Master Kenobi is kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds at a time before pulling away, pausing to look at your face each time to make sure your eyes are still closed, before leaning down and carefully pressing his lips to yours again.

The only part you can’t stand is that he won’t even let you move your jaw to kiss him back.

Kiss me, Obi-Wan, you urge desperately through the Force, not wanting to interrupt to speak.

“I am, little one,” he replies between kisses, and the sincerity in his tone tells you he’s not purposefully teasing you. No, this is him kissing you, genuinely, the only way he knows how to.

Let me— you start to struggle in earnest against his hold on you, —please, let me—

The warm breath from his nose puffs softly against your cheek with a quiet little sound from far back in his throat, and then you suddenly gain the ability to move from the neck up.

You immediately part his lips with yours and Obi-Wan pulls back just the slightest bit in response, but your neck lifts up to compensate as you lick deep into his warm mouth. He gasps at the foreign sensation and loses his concentration for a split second, enough for you to break free of it completely. Your hands quickly fly up to cradle his face as soon as they can move and your fingers hook around the thick beard blanketing his sharp jawline, urging him back down into you.

Your legs come up to wrap around his lower back and he sags against your strong will with a needy groan, dropping down closer and obediently keeping his mouth open for you to taste. As soon as he presses his body into yours, his cock strains and drags against your lower stomach, already throbbing hot and leaking precum along the soft hills of your skin.

Maker, you want it but somehow you… you don’t. You just want to savor tonight as long as you physically can, keep holding him and kissing him like this for another few hours at least before you try to take his cock, but he’s unintentionally grinding it against you while his tongue shyly dances with yours, needy and already raring to go in his own timid way.

Do you want it, Master? You finally murmur to him, running your fingers through his hair and gently biting his bottom lip, scooting your hips up to let him rub himself against something better than your tummy. You feel… ready.

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. Your feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, and Obi-Wan finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck.

“Yes, I—” he moans into you skin, “Oh stars, I want it.”

With a gentle wave of your hand, you use the Force to drop his hips down to the proper angle and tilt the head of his cock to line him up perfectly.

And now this is the part you don’t want to rush. This is when you take Obi-Wan Kenobi’s virginity. You’ll savor just being able to remember this for the rest of your fucking life. You’ll see him in Council meetings years from now and be reminded that you’re the only person in the galaxy to know the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room. You’re the only one who will know that sound, that sound is yours, that sound belongs to—

“Padawan,” he grits, hips stuttering into you while you wrap your arms around his shoulders, “your thoughts—”

You groan up at the ceiling and your pussy tightens at the reminder that he can still hear you, but your body is just too bold and desperate for it. Your thoughts begin to flare bright, growing more possessive by the second, and you can’t even wait for him this time. Every single muscle in Obi-Wan’s body goes rigid when you tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow.

It stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you as Obi-Wan instinctively tries to lift off you and away from it, but you’re clinging too tightly to him. Your whole body hovers off the mattress to stay with him.

“You said—” he gasps, “—it wouldn’t h-hurt—oh—”

“It doesn’t,” you groan, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. “Oh, Maker, it feels so fucking good, Obi—feel it—”

His elbows shake where they’re locked and braced against the mattress but he drops his head and holds strong like this while you work your muscles to take him as far as you can from this shameful angle. Your body feels like it’s on fire while you desperately cling to him and the length of your robe brushes against the mattress while you just keep trying to get him deeper inside you—

Suddenly something grabs hard at your hips and tries shoves you downwards and off his cock, but you want it too badly. You summon the hidden strength of your energy and then channel it into your legs where they’re hooked around the curve of his lower back.

Obi-Wan chokes at the unexpected resistance and his elbows buckle, dropping you both down to his forearms with a jolt, but you’re too busy mentally clashing with each other for it. The result is… well, it’s maddening.

Every time your pussy is able to swallow him more than halfway, you pull back and let his energy shove you down his length—but then dig back in right before you drop completely and use the Force to bend your legs and fight the uphill battle to his cock once more. Your Master gasps, beads of sweat gathering at his temples while you fight him with every ragged breath in your body to keep fucking him.

Except—he’s the fighter. And you should’ve known.

You’re no match for the sudden blast of energy from him, easily hinging your legs apart from around his back and then ripping you down off his cock with a wet sound, bouncing back down into the mattress once more.

In order to stop the desperate tears of defeat from coming to your eyes, you immediately clamp them shut and twist your face away from Obi-Wan’s, but he makes a low growl and uses the same ferocious royal blue energy to keep your knees pinned open and wide against the bed.

And then drops his hips and rocks back into you, giving you those last few precious inches of his thickness you weren’t able to get at before. It hits sharp nirvana up inside you with his thighs pressed tight to your hips like this. His name rips itself from your throat while Obi-Wan clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed with the Force while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you.

He’s so gifted, so strong in the Force, he’s able to use your mind as his anchor and give you pleasure beyond anything you’ve ever experienced. And in return, you want to do the same to him. You want to read his thoughts, instantly be able to give him everything he never knew he needed—

“You do,” your Master chokes out, “darling, you already—”

Everything inside you surges up at the admission, aching that much harder to hear him, to hear everything the way he can hear you. The tips of your fingers find his temple, slick with sweat, and you press just hard enough to tell him your intent.

“Let me in,” you whisper, wicked arousal swirling tight in your lower muscles as they start to bear down on his cock.

“I—I can’t—” Obi-Wan gasps breathlessly, “I can’t—”

“Open—open the door, Master,” you beg, “please, open th—”

“Fuck,” he cuts you off, his voice rising in pitch while his his hips snap just a little harder against yours and his rhythm falters, “—It’s too good, Padaw—I’m going t-to—stars, are you—are you r-ready?”

Some terrifying, swirling darkness manifests itself deep in your thoughts. It rises up, part of the desperate, hidden subconscious that you’re typically capable of stifling. No, it says, don’t let this be over. Not yet. You don’t want to go to sleep alone, wake up and remember you’ll never have this again. You need there to be a next time, and a time after it.

You try your hardest to push the longing downwards when you recognize it, but your Master is too quick, too talented to deceive when he’s this close to you. He easily plucks it from your mind and expands it, enlarges the chaotic string of thoughts until you feel them pulsing at the edges of your consciousness.

And then Obi-Wan sees it all, immediately playing out in your memories as you helplessly watch on. Every desire you buried for him unearthed, every whimper you stifled with the back of your hand when you touched yourself at night and thought of him amplified. The years of repression, the blind hope that simply ignoring it would make it go away. How hard you worked to deaden the burst of affection that radiated through the Force when you finally saw him after two years apart. The circumstances behind the night you lost your virginity—not a long time ago, as he suggested before, but only just last year. So desperate in your loneliness and longing for his presence that you began routinely sneaking around and fucking other Knights—Guardians with blue sabers whose souls were just marginally close enough to Obi-Wan’s, and you thought of him the whole time. Every time.

But, perhaps, worst of all. The… fantasies.

He sees himself dropping to his knees and congratulating you for passing your trials by burying his tongue inside your warmth and telling you how proud of you he is. He sees you opening his trousers and slowly licking his cock while he meditates, trying to get him to break his concentration. He watches the two of you fucking in every conceivable position, how incredibly ready you always are to take him when he needs it. Most importantly, he recognizes your inherent, blazing desire to drag this out as long as physically possible, to permanently brand every moment in your memory to get you through his impending absence.

And then… then Obi-Wan does something unexpected. Something incredibly uncharacteristic.

You watch as he morphs the fantasies right before your eyes. He's still on his knees with his head between your legs, but now he’s telling you how proud he is of you for negotiating the mysterious, confidential deal that ended the Clone Wars. You’re licking his cock as the ship autopilots itself through the week-long journey back to Coruscant from s’Ziscari, letting him slowly cum in your mouth as he sprawls lazily in the captain’s chair. He’s taking you against the wall of your quarters after a mindless and dull Council meeting; you’re riding him quietly in his bed after lights-out at the temple; he’s rubbing your clit while he sits behind you and advises you on matters concerning your own Padawan you’ll be choosing sometime soon, two fingers deep and squeezing a bared nipple when he whispers in your ear how much he absolutely adores you.

Thoughts that aren’t your own begin to fill the empty spaces of your mind, a lovely pale blue tenor to harmonize gorgeously with the soft green alto of your own consciousness. The resulting color of your combined energies fills your soul with Light, a stunning turquoise of a color you’ve never loved more, one you wish you could live in for the rest of your life.

For every debased thought of yours he sees, he shows you one even more revealing. The way he used to dream of you at night, especially after a close battle where many Jedi and Clones fell, and then he’d wake up in a cold sweat with an erection pulsing feverish and so terribly shameful between his legs. How he tried to shove a pillow down there once to somehow relieve himself of the aching hardness, and then had to rip it away and launch it across the room with the Force when he realized he’d been dragging himself against it and thinking of you.

“I’m gonna—cum—” your voice scrapes across your throat, and you can already sense him throwing his beautiful consciousness out like a net. You match him with what little mental strength you have remaining, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and your ankles around his lower back and pulling him down into you.

Obi-Wan’s energy keeps swirling a brilliant aquamarine with yours, presenting his every subconscious thought to you, one right after another, so quick you can barely keep up. How he’ll always be with you, no matter what. How the Maker himself won’t be able to drag him away from you now. How quiet jealousy still tugs at his heart just thinking about the fact that you broke your oath—before you both could do it together.

Everything swells up inside you and you scream when it finally crashes over, your blended signatures sealing themselves together permanently and then detonating in a debilitating shockwave that ripples the air around you. You’re blinded and deafened by its vivid energy, powerful and dazzling every shade between blue and green and Light and Dark, all balanced perfectly together.

You lay there in the gentle afterglow afterwards and feel your pussy still clamping tight to him, pulsing in random intervals while Obi-Wan slouches into you and every muscle in his body trembles with the comedown. Everything is right. Everything in you sparkles.

“Stars, Obi,” you start chuckling up at the ceiling, the sheer joy overwhelming you and bringing tears to your eyes. “Stars, did we just—”

“We just won the Clone Wars, my dear,” he slurs into the crook of your neck while his cock still throbs inside you, and you can feel the exhaustion creeping up his spine, every single thought in his mind completely dead at the moment.

“How long do you… do you think it’ll take before it’s over?” You ask quietly, brushing your fingers through his hair. Obi-Wan groans and buries his face deeper into your neck.

“Few months, maybe. Time for s’Ziscari…”

He stays like that for just a second, and you press your nose to him and breathe him in, marveling at how utterly gorgeous his signature is right now. Clear blue with the lightest touch of teal, rippling like quiet water in a crystal calm riverbed.

Lovely.

You keep softly playing with the hair at his nape, and then quickly wrap your arms around him when he goes to try to brace his forearms next to your shoulders and lift up just the slightest bit.

“Wait, don’t—it’s—” You bite your lip and feel him sink back down into your body without another word, clearly having only attempted it for appearances. “This is good, let’s just… stay for a second.”

He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even move, and—a few months, you think. A few months of his absence, of wondering where he is but never being able to ask. It burdens your heart, but you understand it’s necessary.

The Council may… grant me a position with a more permanent location after this mission, he responds quietly to your dip in the Force after a moment, too tired to even talk anymore and exhaustion weaving his every thought. On Coruscant.

Your heart pangs with sudden hope, and you know he can feel it. “They would do that?”

I could ask to oversee the s’Ziscari’s assimilation into our ranks, he offers alongside a stifled yawn into your collarbone.

He’d… request that? To be closer to you? But why?

He doesn’t hesitate before offering the words to you simply, not even considering them before they’re the only thought in his mind. Because I care for you more than there are stars in the sky. I always have.

Lovely.

No, no, not even, that’s just. Love. By itself.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan murmurs softly into your neck, and your soul feels like it grows wings.

You both lay there in silence for a long time after that, and it takes you even longer to realize he hasn’t succumbed to sleep yet, even as the aching fatigue weighs heavy on his back. He’s resisting it, keeping his eyes purposefully open against your neck while yours are blissfully shut.

“Master,” you eventually whisper up at the ceiling, and his cock twitches inside you. Oh stars, you’ll have to remember that. “Go to sleep.”

I have one more confession. The thoughts are slurred and distorted, barely conscious as he desperately tries to outlast the sleep trying to pull him under. I didn’t even want to mention it before because I didn’t know how this was all going to go, but… He blinks slowly against your neck even as his eyes droop, only just a few seconds from passing out with exertion. The Sh’inzith lasts six days, dove.

Your eyes pop open in shock just as his finally fall shut, and Obi-Wan stops fighting.

#WE OUT HERE #obi-wan kenobi x you #Obi-wan Kenobi X Reader #obi-wan X reader #obi-wan x you #smut #fanfic #no-droids

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gojology · 4 years ago

Text

Clubs Aren’t My Thing. (2/2) (18+)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | woooo, part 2 ! as stated previously, this is heavily inspired by @/mystic-sky on tumblr or skyfelt on ao3. amazing writer, check her out (but this isn’t a direct copy, just same storyline in a way). i’m cleaning up my writing a lot, i think. maybe im getting better as well? probably not but uh i kinda gave up at the end and uh.. hope u enjoy.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Voyeurism To Some Degree, Teasing, Ripped Tights, I didn’t proof read. 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Dom! Gojo x Sub! Female Reader

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 4561

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | In which you finally get fucked by this mysterious, yet freakishly handsome stranger. That’s it, you just get fucked.

The first thing you realize is how cold it is. The wind is working against you, it seems, as you take your first step out of the warm building. Hair blows in every direction, you button up your cardigan, your breath coming out in puffs of smoke. Shivers went down your spine. Not too far behind you, the mysterious man that you had met just an hour ago trailed behind, winking and waving at the girls confidently using him as eye-candy. Long strides, hands shoved into his pockets. Your heart swells as you watch other woman stare flirtatiously as he gestured back at them, before their eyes set on you. He followed you like a duckling, and you’re sure to relish in how powerful it made you feel. He walked like a model, with so much confidence. He didn’t appear as cold, his cheeks were flush and he reeked of fruity sugary alcohol, a playful grin still stubbornly on his face, 5 minutes later. “Uber should be coming soon... I think, too lazy to check. You cold?” he slurred huskily. You nod. For a one night stand, he was strangely kind to you. He doesn’t say anything after that, so you opt to listen to the life around you. The clicking of high heels, the chatter, the drunken rants. “Aw, come here.” He didn’t give you much of a choice, though. Pulling you in to his chest, without warning. Your first instinct is to scream bloody murder, but he’s so warm, and you definitely need it. One loose arm over your figure, his unoccupied arm dangled dangerously close to your butt. Taking in a deep breath, anticipating the feeling of being so scandalous in public, he chuckles breathily, almost like a taunt. You can feel the rumble in his chest as he cleared his throat. You stare up at him, confused as to why you’re not feeling anything in your lower regions, before you realize what he was doing. Rubbing your head with the once unoccupied hand, his fingers weaved into your hair as he sniffled. Something about the interaction was strangely intimate, but you don’t dare to say a word. You inhale sharply, rubbing your face into his chest. You want to get closer, deep in bliss as he seemed to return the want back. You want to close any remaining space between the two of you, but making the first move was scary. He yawns, and this triggers you to yawn as well. It was probably well past 1 AM by now, and you were tired. You couldn’t hear much around you other then the honk of the growing sea of cars, some people just starting their night, and the others ending it. “Oh shit. Our Uber’s here.” he mutters under his breath, pushing you out of his chest gently. Whining, you try to push yourself back into his arms, he takes a quick glance down at you, traces of a faint lukewarm smile playing upon his lips. Almost like he’s saying, “Are you kidding me right now?” before taking a hold of your hand. Fingers intertwining as if they were meant to be together, you gawk down at your hands, before looking back up at him. There were a few issues, one, you had no idea if this man had an intent to kidnap you. Second, you didn’t know what the Uber looked like, and you’re too embarrassed to ask. Third, he was holding your hand with no hesitation, and the feeling in your chest was indescribable. You can’t tell what he’s thinking, but you hope that it’s something along the lines of what you’re thinking. Your eyes briefly flickering over his jawline as you pondered to yourself, but what you do know is that you’re being dragged towards the presumed Uber. It’s sleek, and black, with a glossy finish, you note. “Yo chill, I’m not gonna kidnap you, missy.” chuckling, examining your doubtful, yet frightened expression. He swung open the car door carelessly. “After you, m’lady.” he adds, bowing and straightening, his chin up. “Thank you, Sir Mysterious.” you give him a small smile before sliding into the sleek, comfortable seats. His eyebrow raised, he looked at you. “That’s a first.” “It’s also a shit nickname, maybe that’s why you’ve never heard it.” you suggested. “I like it. Has a nice ring to it.” a lukewarm smile played at his glossy lips. The sly smile wipes clean off your face, he laughs at you while sliding into his designated seat, as if he owned the car. Right. You were in a car, and it would be best for you to study your surroundings, just to make sure you weren’t being kidnapped. The car was obviously expensive, black leather reclining seats, and a sweet offering of warmth against the chill of the midnight air. A coffee cup idly stood in the cup holder, the driver taking a quick sip and turning his body to look at you two. Air fresheners and various trinkets dangled from the rear-view mirror, swinging back and forth “A couple, eh? You wanna go to this address?” The driver whipped his phone out, an address in black, bold text stood out. “Yep.” the man says confidently. Opening your mouth to speak, you try to inform the driver that he wasn’t your boyfriend, before your supposed boyfriend covers your mouth with his hand as soon as the driver repositioned towards the steering wheel. You realize that his other hand is on your thigh, stroking your skin. This newfound position was at the very least, terrifying. There was another person in the vehicle, for starters, and you weren’t exactly the quiet type when it came to, well, anything in general. Cold, large calloused hands considerately caressed your thigh, and your breathing hitches. His other arm against his side, but you know his fingers are itching to feel you all over. You want to moan, but the driver’s presence is enough to tell you that it would be stupid. Fingers drawing shapes, words, anything would repeatedly loop on the sensitive skin just barely. He was definitely teasing you, but you couldn’t quite fight back. “Why don’t you be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” he whispers, you anticipate the driver to look back at the two of you, and to throw both of you off the car, but he does no such thing. Feebly, you raise your arm up, ignoring the flirtatious request. Swatting his hand away in a desperate attempt to get him to stop before it got out of hand, but he’s persistent. It’s getting even more difficult to breathe quietly now, your body getting hotter and hotter and hotter. It doesn’t take long for a noise to slip out from your lips that you can’t quite shut up, and the driver turns to look at you. “So precious.” the white haired man mouths to you before quickly turning his head to look at the window, humming to himself, still caressing your thigh. “Ma’am? Are you okay?” About to respond, the white haired man scooched closer to you. His clothed leg now rubbing your bare skin. He whistles innocently in the opposite direction before skimming his hand against your inner thigh, and you almost shriek. Instead, you let out a pathetic gasp. Panning his gaze over to you, he gives you a sly, playful smirk, before looking away again. Drawing more shapes onto your skin, he hums. It was so hard to focus, or even remember the words the driver had said literally just a minute ago. You feel yourself shiver, almost losing yourself entirely to his hands before shakily responding to the driver, praying to any divine figure in the skies that you would be coherent. “Y-yeah. Just, spilled water on m-my clothes.” you reply, barely audible. The driver’s eyes stared back at yours, concern etched onto his features, before sighing. Tension grew inside of you. “Alright, if you need anything, just ask, okay ma’am?” Trying to respond, no sound comes out of your mouth, and the reason dawns on you. Taking a quick look down, the man’s digits were now fumbling with your panties, brushing against your wetness. It takes a moment for you to register in your brain, you thank every entity possible for preventing the inevitable slew of noises you’d make. Waves of need crashing over your body. You hungrily stare at him, hoping that he’d be kind enough to stop and save it for later. Circling your entrance through the now utterly soaked panties, he dips his finger in, just enough so you could feel the slight pressure against your sensitive skin. He’s fucking taunting you again. Driver be damned, you needed him. Opening your legs more, you confidently peer at him, inviting him to explore your body even more. His fingers are drumming against the leather surface, the other hand had retreated back to your thigh, boldly looking at you back. “No. I thought you didn’t want to, what’s with the change of thought?” he mouths, stifling a chuckle and a smug tone, already knowing what you were going to ask. Bewildered, you gape at him before shaking your head curtly, making sure you’re staring daggers at his stupidly arrogant face. “Stop fucking playing with me then!” “You’re too cute.” “Fine then.” closing your legs, you stare out the window, your chin sitting on the palm of your hand. Flickering blurry lights passing by quickly. Looking at your reflection, you steal a quick glance at the flirtatious bastard. “If you’re so angry, why can’t you look away from me for 1 second?” he whispers proudly. You can’t think of a snarky remark, so you huff and look back at the window defeatedly. What a cocky arrogant little- Your bruised pride burning into ashes, you grunt in response before the car abruptly halts to its stop. Were you two too loud? “What are you two so scared for? Freezing up like a deer in headlights, we’re at your destination.” the driver said, twisting his head around, his eyebrow slightly raised. “Oh, yeah, thanks.” That was way too close to comfort, and you’re resisting the urge of banging on his chest for being so overly confident in his endeavors. You open the car door, cursing under your breath, swinging your legs out and lightly stepping out. First thing you realize in the new destination? This guy was obviously loaded. In front of you were a bunch of condos, and it was bound to cost a lot. Modern architecture was all you could see, wide windows and balconies in every corner. Suddenly, you’re self conscious about your outfit, were you too poorly dressed? The man hums, placing his hand on your shoulder. Plant life was meticulously placed in such a beautiful manner that you promise yourself that you would search up his name- if you ever got it, on the Forbes lists. “Like what you see?” Snapping out of it, you look back at him, and you nod, still astounded by his presumed riches. “Yeah? Lets go up missy, I got more to show, in more ways then one.” ��₊˚✩彡. Standing in front of his door, you realize how quiet and still the atmosphere is. He fumbles with his keys, muttering to himself, and you can’t help but wonder if you’re about to have sex with some celebrity. Not knowing how to start conversation, you clear your throat. “You ever going to tell me your name?” “Aw, the little baby still wants my name.” he cooed “Call me Gojo.” he adds nonchalantly. “(Y/N).” you reply, ecstatic. That wasn’t too hard, but you wonder why he didn’t just give up his name to you at the club earlier. Perhaps he didn’t think he was going to take you back? “Aw, sugar. You scared?” Gojo says, looking you up and down. Well, that’s what you assumed. He still had his glasses on. “No I’m not, who said that?” “Look at your legs, missy.” he cheekily replies. Looking down, you realize you’re violently shaking, and you didn’t even realize it. “...Maybe.” you say coyly. He breathily chuckles, finally opening the door with the right key. You’re surprised by the presence of such a spotless place, a large, plush black leather couch was in one corner, the other, an island. Amazingly large windows replaced what would usually be the walls, and you could see the extent of the city life from where you’re standing. “Slip your shoes off girly, sandals on the left. Can I offer you something?” Gojo questions you, walking over to the island. “...I’m not much of a drinker.” you reply, still standing in the doorway. You were honestly more interested in him then the small talk. “Baby, sit down. Don’t you wanna see me up close?” he pats the cushioned island seats, and you sheepishly walk over. “I have apple juice too. If that’s more your vibe.” you watched him swirl some melting ice cubes around in a glass of water with a spoon. “I’m not 12.” you retort, maybe the guy wasn’t a celebrity. No famous guy has apple juice in the fridge, rather then fancy champagne and wine. Gojo snickers, “Hey, I’m not 12 either, I’m nearing my fucking 30′s but I can never reject a good box of apple juice, plus, I teach a group of kiddos that drink this shit like it’s fine wine.” You pause, this guy was NEAR 30? He certainly didn’t look the age, and second of all, he bought apple juice just for the kids he taught? That was surprisingly sweet, but that didn’t explain the richness. “You’re a teacher?” you nod as he hands you a chilled box of apple juice. “Uh, yeah.” he scratches the back of his neck. “International Japanese teacher, sometimes I just teach in Japan as well. It pays good.” “No way you actually live here. Is this your friends place?” He laughs loudly, “So backhanded, and sassy! Nah, this is my place. As I said, job pays well. Feel free to stop by for a good fucking.” he says whilst pouring liquor into his glass cup. “You’re really confident in your abilities of fucking people.” you sarcastically note aloud as he slides into the comfortable tall stool next to you, drink in hand. “Hm, you weren’t saying that when I was touching you in that car, brat. How strange.” sipping his beverage lightly. Your mouth zipped shut, and he laughs again. “Aw, don’t go all awkward on me.” his once vacant hand now rubbing your shoulder. Setting down his drink, taking off his glasses. He doesn’t give you much time to admire his eyes, but what you can see is an almost aquamarine color, flecks of darker blue sprinkled throughout. So brilliantly colored it didn’t look real. Before you realize it, he leans closer into your neck, suckling your skin and lightly nibbling. His breath fanning over your delicate skin, you can’t even hold back, gasping a little as his hands played with the hem of your cardigan, tugging at it playfully. You can’t even formulate words. He was undeniably good, his suckling now gradually getting more harsher and harsher, and you dread coming back to your friends place, neck full of hickeys, you’d be nudged for whoever did that to you for the rest of your life. He grunts, standing up in the little space between what was his stool and yours, even on such a surprisingly tall stool he still towered over you. He has to slightly crouch before his eyes is at the level of your neck, hungrily crashing back down. “G-Gojo!” you squeaked, struggling to do much of anything. You’re limp on the stool, slumped and burning up. Your skin was ridiculously hot. “Hmmm?” he smiles into your neck, pausing momentarily, you can feel him exhale harshly on your skin. You look him up and down, the sexual tension between the two of you was prominent, and so was the tent in his pants. You feel a whine creep up towards your throat, now realizing just how wet you are. Ignoring this, you gesture to your clothes. The layers were sticking to you, and you never wanted anything more then to just get the sex started. “...Hot.” is all you can muster pathetically. “What was, baby?” he coos at you. “Me.” shrugging off your cardigan the best you can, you let out a subtle whine, the weird feeling growing between your legs. “Yes, we both know you’re hot.” tipping your chin upwards to look at him, he smiles. “use your words.” “Clothes.. Off.” you pant, obviously sick and tired of the stupid sexual tension and the teasing. “Full sentence, girly.” he repeats, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You inhale his scent, smelling of expensive cologne and lingering sickeningly sweet alcohol. Looking up at him, but averting your gaze as soon as you saw those incredible eyes once again. “Look at me.” he orders. You peer up at him, swallowing. “P-please, take my clothes off.” you say politely. “All it took was a few hickeys? You really are a pretty kitty.” he smiles, kissing your forehead. “Get down.” You nod obediently, getting off the stool and looking back up at him, anticipating his next step. He bends down, swooping you up bridal style. One arm under your legs, gripped firmly onto the skin, the other under your waist. Your arms instinctively and rather slackly around his shoulders. You expect something, a kiss, anything, but all Gojo does is walk down an endless hallway full of doors. You lean closer into him while pouting, hoping that’ll catch his attention, but he doesn’t say a word. “Where are we going?” you finally ask, growing needy. “Bedroom. I’m not fucking on the couch. Pretty princesses deserve to be nice and comfy.” he replies back, fidgeting with the door knob. For a few seconds, all you can hear is how rapidly your heart is beating inside your chest, the rustling of clothes brushing against one another, and then the feeling sets in again. You could very well be fucking someone that was out of your league. He breathes a sigh of relief, and before you have the time to fully study his bedroom, he throws you off of the bed with a grunt. Gojo’s toned forearms by your side, you were obviously trapped. You can see his chain just dangle barely swing back and forth on the tip of your nose, his lips curled into a lukewarm smile. “You were so cheeky with me earlier, where’d she go?” stroking the corner of your lips. He doesn’t give you the time to respond, instead locking lips with you and rolling over to be on your side. It starts off small and soft first, but it gradually grew hot. The fluttering in your chest only intensified. Tongues exploring every inch of one another’s mouth, you swear you can taste mint. The anxiety melted off of you like wax, and the only thing he could focus on was how soft you felt against his lips. Delightfully experienced enough for it to be good, but not better then him. The smell of him was stronger now, and you’re sure you won’t be able to leave without some of it remaining on your clothes. Regardless, it was an addicting smell. Something you needed to come back to. Furiously exhaling through both of your noses, he finally lets go. Dazed, your whole body tingles. You want him to claim you all as your own, hungrily staring at him for more. Both of you were radiating heat. The kissing left little for thought, and all you can think about is kissing him once again. It seemed that the more you spent with him, the more demand you had for his attention. “Such cute noises. Makes me want to ravish you more.” Gojo tenderly pulls you in, claiming your mouth as his once again. Fumbling with your cardigan, yanking it off of your body. Large, hot hands brushing against your now semi-exposed skin, and you know he wants more. His hands brushed against your butt under your skirt, and you shiver just a bit. Pulling out from the kiss, he looks at you, panting heavily. “So beautiful.” he murmurs, brushing his thumb against your swollen lips. “You wanna know why they call me the best?” You nod, his arm snakes above your waist, forcefully flipping you down head first into the blankets. Just now realizing that all your clothes are no where to be found, presumably on the floor, you shiver at the cold air conditioner blowing against you. That is, besides your skirts and your tights. “On your arms, baby. Knees too.” he instructs, patting your butt. You obey, a warmth rushing to your cheeks again. He had you like a dog being trained by it’s owner, following their every order. “Good girl.” he says under his breath. You’re about to tell him that you’re still wearing tights, about to open your mouth, you heard a loud rip disturb the peaceful atmosphere, and a cold exposure to your lower regions. You squeal, digging your face into the covers, and he chuckles again. “Oh baby. You were begging for this, I can see why now.” you felt him drag his fingers against your panties, and you whimper. “So impatient for my touch, aren’t you kitty? You’ll have to wait.” About to complain, you look back at him before you find him shoving you down, sitting on your knees now, your nipples hardened in the air, but you want to be stimulated else where. “Be patient, and you’ll be rewarded, no complaining.” “But-” he cuts you off. “Don’t fucking talk over me, you got that?” “...Yes sir.” His eyes soften, and he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before his hands brushed against your nipples, rubbing them with his thumb. Rolling the sensitive bud, you loudly moan, trying to express that you wanted more. “God, you’re so cute.” he says under his breath, still rubbing and now slightly pulling them. Placing his mouth upon the abused buds, you stifle a cry out. Gently suckling, he used his other hand to play with the other attention-starved nipple mildly. You whine out again, beginning to melt under his stupidly experienced hands and mouth. The attention was nice, but you needed it some place else, his eyes looked up at you, his wet mouth still suckling your breast. Taking his wet mouth off your nipple, he looked at you, mischief still evident on his face. “You like that?” he says, cocking his head to his side. “I-If I say anything, It’ll fill your stupid ego.” you breathed. “And if you don’t say anything I’m not doing shit.” his hand now rubbing your butt. “You ripped my tights!” you spat back. “I’ll pay for it and more, no bother babygirl. Now tell me what I want to hear.” He obviously wasn’t lying, he could probably turn any girl into putty if he just wanted to, and here you were, in the palm of his hand. “...Please touch me more.” you uttered shamelessly. “Good girl. On your back, spread those pretty little legs for me too, why don’t you?” Lying down on the plush mattress and warm pillows, you stare at the ceilings. You peered at him starting where he left off. Giving you faint, yet chaste kisses on your breasts, trailing kisses down your stomach. “Aw, your panties are absolutely fucking soaked baby, how cute.” he cooed, parting the soaked fabric to the side. You look at him undress thoughtlessly, but you’re sure he’s done this several times. He did it with little to no effort, but that would mean that you’re not special. It would be useless to think about right now, you were gonna have the dicking of your lifetime anyway, it was called a one night-stand for a reason. The mountain of clothes grew taller. Growing impatient, you look up to where he was once standing, only to find him already in between your legs. “So pretty.” Gojo purred, circling your entrance just as he had done previously in the car ride, you squeak. “So lucky this is all mine.” Gojo had figured he could add, “for the night.” but that strangely felt wrong. He dips his fingers into your walls, and you cry out. Wrapping around his digits, sobbing, this wasn’t enough to satisfy your cravings. “You want more?” he huskily said, a tone of playfulness still rampant. “Yes! Please, just fuck me!” you croaked, already damn near about to cum from the teasing. “That’s my girl.” he whispered under his breath, slipping off boxers you didn’t even realize were there in the first place. He doesn’t give you a chance to see his full length, instead ramming inside of you. You inhale sharply at the sudden disruption. The throbbing evaporated into thin air, and you’re desperately grabbing at the sheets to steady yourself. Sweaty and sticky skin slapping against each other echoed throughout the room, along with your moans and his grunts. You could feel him reaching heights that you would never be able to do with the dildos you had at your house, much less your fingers. One hand on your waist to steady your flailing body, the other, roughly groping your breast. You were finding it hard to think, pleasure and euphoria filling your senses. Unknowingly, you wrap yourself around Gojo even harder then before. “Fuck, baby, I can barely pull out.” he panted. “you’re too tight.” You can’t even begin to respond, still deep in your state of pleasure, instead responding incoherently with a jumble of delicate moans and gasps in between. “C-cum!” “Hm? Repeat that princess?” he soothed. You’re unable to respond again, instead you try to lift your head up, and Gojo feels himself throb again, watching your eyes flutter back. It’s not until it’s too late, realizing a hot fluid flow down your holes. He pulls out, he himself ejaculating on your stomach. Both muscles stretched taut, you both laid on the bedsheets, sweating and panting. “Fuck, I haven’t had a girl like you in a while.” he says, turning his head to look at you. Strands of hair stuck to your forehead. “R-Really?” he kissed your forehead, tipping your chin with his long fingers. “Yes, really. I’m so lucky I spotted such a pretty little thing at a club.” The sun was starting to rise, you note, and you realize just how perfect his body is with the new light. A sudden warmth on your cheeks, you look down, still panting. “Clubs aren’t my thing.” you said breathlessly. “Fuck. It’s 5 AM” he says, eyes now glued to his phone, ruffling his white hair. “I’ll go-” “No, here, lets take a shower with each other, and then we sleep.” “Okay.” you responded, hoping to not make conversation, still believing that he was a celebrity. He handed you his phone, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can I get your number?” “...Why?” you questioned. “...To call you back again, duh.” he teases, rubbing your head. No way, he wanted you back at his house? You? Not wanting to fuck up your chances, you nod, something was growing inside of you, and you weren’t quite sure what it was, but you knew he made you feel special.

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #jjk headcanons #gojou satoru #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #dom gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojou x you #fanfic #fic #anime fic #im learning how to write well ok

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soulwillower · 4 years ago

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taboos and the absurd iii • richie tozier

(professor richie tozier x reader smut)

requested: hi! i just finished reading taboos and the absurd, SUCH A GOOD SERIES. This is just some idea i had and im totally okay if u don’t want to do it, but would you write maybe a final part of the series when the reader finds out richie fucked more students (more than she though) and she gets upset and stops talking to richie (ridiculous jealousy) but he really was falling for her so he talks to her and well things get heated, and KDKDKD ok sorry if im too specific, hope u see this❤️❤️❤️🥰🥰 + hey omg i love the prof. richie series sm 🥵 if you plan on making a pt. 3 might i suggest reader giving richie head while hes giving a lecture and reader gets fucked on the table 😳😳 its hoe hours frfr + so many other requests to continue the series :)

warnings: smut, oral sex (male receiving), bad morals, abuse of power, dont fuck your professor, filthy stuff, professor richie, deepthroating, dirty talk, use of the word slut, cockwarming, unprotected sex, mentions of exhibition, a bit of degradation and a lot of praise, unedited as usual lol

[losers + reader are 20+ in this]

4.4k words

part 3 of taboos and the absurd series. sorry it’s been so long :) i wanted to surprise u a bit with a lil surprise for the holidays. i love u all!! <3

[ i ii ]

♡

you hadn't been to class in almost a week and a half.

it was really bad, you know - and the ditching has started to affect your grade, but you don't even care as much as you really should. because you're.... extremely jealous.

yeah.

you'd first gotten suspicious the lecture after you stayed behind and ended up with professor tozier's dick in your hands. a girl was sitting on his desk after class, when you'd walked in to turn in a late paper, and richie had been twirling her hair. they were laughing together, her bare legs. it made you burn up, and so you tossed the paper down at the drop bin at the back of the classroom loud enough that he noticed you’d come in.

you were so mad you didnt stay to see anymore. and you didnt go to class for more than a week after.

it could have been just an innocent gesture, or maybe just some woman richie was dating - either way, you were beyond jealous. it filled you with rage to imagine richie fucking anyone else, let alone a student. you were hurt, too - because you've really started to like spending time with your professor.

but that backfired of course, because you’re in your apartment staring at an email from him.

i will be at my office on campus after hours this friday, until roughly 9:30. if you're available, i encourage you to stop by.

we have a lot to discuss regarding your grade and future in my class.

thanks,

professor richard tozier

you blink at the screen, your heart racing. your fingers shake slightly as you reach up to rub your temples - oh god, he wants to talk. he's going to turn you down, say it was a mistake, and fail you.

and in the few days until friday, your rage and fear meld together to make a jealous, ugly monster as you stalk up the empty corridors to his office, ready to speak.

it's late, probably around 8 when you knock on his door, but he's still there as promised, answering with a faint come in!

you walk in slowly, heart pounding in anxiety as you meet eyes with him for the first time in almost 14 days. your heart thumps hard still as he nods at you, "you can shut the door and take a seat, ms. y/l/n."

you swallow as you click the door shut and move to the chair, sitting down awkwardly and biting your lip. "hi, professor." you say, afraid your jealousy is going to spill from you if you say anything else.

"you haven't been in class."

you nod, "you noticed."

he sighs through his nose and leans forward on his desk. you clench your thighs - no getting turned on, y/n. not now. "of course i did. i'm your professor, ms. y/l/n."

"right, sir, i almost forgot. you just get so comfortable with all your students now, sometimes it's hard to remember." you bite, and his eyebrows raise. "some more than others." he adds, shooting you a look that you ignore, instead turning your stubborn gaze to the clock behind his curly head. you can nearly smell his cologne from where you sit, and you're almost drooling. you can't let him see it.

"what's going on? your grade is dropping. you’re not coming to classes." he says, sounding like he's concerned. you bite your lip, shaking your head as you look at him. "i'm not going to come to class just to watch you flirt with the girls and let them give you fuck me eyes."

"that's exactly what you do to me constantly, as i seem to recall." he bites back. you feel yourself turn red, but you sit forward more so you lean over his desk just like he is.

"whatever. i don't care, i'd just appreciate it if you'd tell me that you're going to fuck other students so i can leave. and not walk in on you right before you do so.” you say, suddenly so thankful you chose to come later when nobody was on this floor, the only other person in the building being the custodian sleeping at the front desk.

professor tozier tilts his head with a smirk, "oh, you're adorable. my jealous little slut, crying because she can't have me to herself."

your jaw drops, the remaining thin layer of professionalism gone the minute he opened his mouth. "fuck you, professor. i'm leaving."

"i wasn't finished." he says sternly, and something in his voice makes you sit back down. he looks mad and it's confusingly hot, your legs feeling like jelly because of your excitement. "if you weren't such a brat, you would have heard me say that i'm not fucking anyone else. student or not."

you stare at him, confused as your face reddens again. you're embarrassed. "but-"

"the woman you saw last week, when you came back after the lecture. that's professor marsh, she's one of my colleagues and best friends. she's also happily married." he says, sounding pissed off. "i'd appreciate some trust, it's not like i going around fucking every student who wants to open their legs for me - although plenty have tried." he says.

you feel yourself soaking through your panties. god you have problems,don't you? "i'm sorry sir, i-" you start but he shakes his head, standing up from his chair and walking towards you. you watch him with big eyes, as he clenches his jaw. "no, don't apologize. just know. you're the only one." he mutters as he crosses behind you.

you stare at his empty desk, face blushing at his words. the only one. the click of the lock on the door gives you butterflies, and then he's behind you, hand trailing over your shoulder. "if you still want me, that is. your most recent paper was very good, but i know you can do much better. you just have to try for me." he's caressing your neck now, lips ghosting over the skin. you let out a soft moan, goosebumps raising on your soft skin as he feathers it with kisses. your butterflies are alight as you turn your head, kissing him.

he grips your jaw almost immediately, pulling your head upwards towards where he bends over you. you gasp as his hand rests on your thigh, and he smiles against your lips. "you're so sensitive, hmm? when was the last time you touched yourself?"

you gulp, shaking your head, shocked still by his boldness and by your willingness to be honest. "a f-few days ago." you say shakily as he kisses along your jaw, hand sliding up your thigh slowly. he tuts, "baby, you're going to fall apart when i'm through with you." he mutters, almost to himself, and that makes you choke out a moan.

he kisses you again and you push back enthusiastically, hand raising to palm him through his slacks. he's already semi hard, which makes a swell of pride blossom in your chest. but suddenly he breaks off the kiss, hissing in surprise. "fuck." he mutters, backing away from you. you blink, did you go too far? your thighs press together as richie rushes to his desk. "i have to proctor this exam in zoom. in....two minutes."

oh.

you blink and watch as he logs into his laptop and adjusts his hair in its camera. it's endearing, in a way that makes you smile, though extremely riled up and disappointed. you begrudgingly reach for your things, but professor tozier's hand comes up to stop you, "please stay. it's only going to be max forty minutes. i have beer in the bottom drawer if you want some." he rushes out, and you smile. "you sure?" you say shyly.

he looks at you, pausing. "yeah, y/n. of course." he says gently, smiling almost shyly back at you. he looks so young, it makes you stare in awe. his dimple pops and you hear the sound of ringing, the students joining the call to take their exam. only professor tozier would have an exam this late on a friday. asshole, you laugh to yourself.

you open a bottle of beer you find hidden under a stack of manilla folders, but don't even take a sip as your mind wanders. richie's speaking to the class, sounding professional and confident. you wonder if he's still hard.

so you smirk, feeling bold, and you get down onto your hands and knees and crawl under his desk until you're face level with his belt. gently, you spread his legs apart so you can get up and closer to him, and the slight jump he gives confirms that he didn't even notice you go under the desk.

you gently start to palm him and he clears his throat loudly, fist slamming on the desk slightly above you. over the speakers you hear professor, are you alright? and then richie's muttering, "y-yes, just a slight problem i need to fix." he's gritting it though his teeth and you grin to yourself as you unzip his pants and pull out his fully hard cock, running your fingers over it and smearing the precum. he's breathing tensely and he starts to speak to the class, giving tips on a certain question after one student asks him a question.

you pump him a few times gently, then start to kitten lick his tip, wanting to tease him since you've never had the upper hand like this before. you flatten your tongue along the bottom of his cock, teasing him a bit before slowly taking him into your mouth, sliding a bit before bobbing. the quiet groan he lets out as you take him as far as you can is sinful, a student asking richie about formatting as you suck him off. bobbing your head, you hollow your cheeks and relish in the feeling of richie’s cock in your throat, stretching you out and making you moan around him.

"y-yeah, so for this i'm really just looking for MLA-" he almost hiccups to cover up a groan as you try to hold yourself still with him all the way down your throat, as far as you can take him. "MLA formatting, nothing out of the ordinary. thank you for asking that."

and then you hear him slam a button and he groans out, “you feel so good baby.” he hisses, his hand moving from above the desk down to grip the back of your head, carding through your hair. "don't fucking stop." he says, his hand guiding your head as you work hard.

after a few minutes you pull off of him to take a few breaths, pumping as much as you can with your hand as he tries to act like he isn't getting sucked off while proctoring an exam. you can hear people starting to turn in their exams and saying goodbye, so you take him back into your mouth and try to relax, breathing through your nose as his cock twitches in the back of your throat and you gag.

you bob your head after that, your tongue flat against his cock as he slightly bucks his hips. you feel him type out something for the class and then he moans very lowly, bucking his hips up and you choke a bit as he slides further in your mouth and stretches your throat.

he doesn't feel you that he's about to cum, you just know, and he's clenching the edge of his desk and breathing hard as you eagerly swallow around him, moving slightly so the new angle makes him toss his head back for a brief moment before snapping back to the screen.

"professor, are you sure you’re okay?" someone asks again. you keep bobbing up and down on him as he mutters, "yes, thank you ms. ruben. finish your work and we can leave."

you figure those words are for you, and you move harder, helping him chase his high. he pulls your hair suddenly, which makes you keen forward and take him deep, gagging as you force your throat to relax.

and then soon he’s hitting his high, cumming in your mouth with a silent shudder, his hand squeezing his desk as the other hovers over his keyboard. you moan a bit as you swallow, pulling off him slowly as he pants, eyes glancing down at you.

you slide back up into your seat and sip on your beer, fixing your hair slightly as his eyes bounce from you to the screen. you smile innocently at him, his cheeks flushed and looking disheveled as he waits fro the last students to finish.

it's about three mintes until they're done and he stares directly at you once he ends the meeting. you expect him to say anything but what comes out of his mouth next.

"if you pull something like that again i will fuck you in front of the entire class.” he says it dead serious, eyes bright behind his glasses and boring straight into yours.

your legs feel like they could give out and you turn red as you watch him, “don’t act like that thought doesn’t have you already getting hard again.” is all you can think to say. it spills from your mouth quickly, your mind not even given time to think before you say it.

richie narrows his eyes, rising slowly from his chair and walking towards you, eyes locked the whole time. “funny. because you’re the one who couldn’t even wait two minutes before needing my cock in her mouth. i bet you’d let me fuck you anywhere i wanted and you’d still thank me for it afterwards, right princess?”

you’re not really used to this fierce banter between you and your professor - but when has this ever been professional?

you squeeze your legs together and stand up on wobbly legs. “shut up. you’re the one who said you’d give me first-hand experience on my essay. you wanted me the second you saw me.” you try to regain the upper hand, but he’s walking towards you and your legs hit the edge of his desk.

“of course i did, doll.” he says lowly, lips suddenly very close to yours. “and i still do.”

and you’re kissing again desperately, days upon days of desperation working its way into your kiss as you sit yourself on his desk and he comes between your legs, gripping your thighs.

he's dragging his hips against yours, his hard cock pressing against your heat and making you pant with need as you tug his curly strands. his hands then move to quickly undo his pants and pulling himself out of his boxers, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen. you whimper slightly as you spread your legs a bit, desperate to finally feel him inside you.

and then his hand is grabbing your face, thumb holding your chin as he turns your head to look right at him. "you better do exactly what i say, princess." he says, looking into your eyes. you nod, his thumb grip stern as he lines up at your entrance. “hm? or you wont get what you want.”

"yes, richie, yes. wan' it so bad, please." you mutter, making him smile. "aren’t you a good girl." he says with a grin, nudging your shoulder down until you’re laying on your elbows, legs bent and feet propped against the edge of his desk. then he’s pulling your lacy underwear aside and pushing into you in one motion.

the sudden stretch fills you to the brim and you let out a guttural noise at the feeling, having not been too warmed up to his cock. your back rubs uncomfortably against the wood of the desk as he pushes into you, but your hands grip his shoulders and all you can think about is richie. but then he stills, staring at you as he’s stretching you out, buried to the hilt.

you think he’s giving you time to adjust and so you relax, breathing as you take in the size of him. after a few moments, you kiss him. “please move richie.”

but he doesnt. and you moan, your legs quivering as he gently caresses one of your bent knees.

“good girl, begging for me.” his hands grip your thighs, holding them open as your eyes roll back slightly, “so fuckin’ pretty like this, baby.”

you turn red at the praise, trying to move your hips and feel him deep inside you. his hand falls to your stomach, pressing slightly. he tuts and you gasp, “stay still for me baby, wanna see you wait for it.”

you whimper, eyes closing as you try to breathe normally. his hands run up and down your sides, stomach, chest, hips, and then down your legs as he stands still, buried in you. your breathing is shaky with need.

and then when you think you can’t handle it any longer, richie slowly pulls out. you moan, hands gripping his shoulders as the feeling coils your abdomen with pleasure. he starts thrusting slowly, picking up the pace so slowly it was torturous.

your nails rake down his back, and even though it’s through his shirt you’re sure it’ll leave faint red lines. your toes curl in pleasure as he moves his hips, hitting the perfect spot inside you.

“look at you, all wrecked on your professor’s cock.” he pounds you into the desk, lips then falling to suck large marks on your neck, the stinging pleasure adding to the volume of your moans.

his hands rise to lift your shirt up over your chest, sliding up to quickly palm your breasts, his hips starting to snap in an unforgiving pace. you feel him so deep inside of you that tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure building instantly. he’s leaning over you as he hits the sweet spot deep inside you, your vision coming in and out of focus as your legs begin to shake. “yes, richie, right there.” you moan, holding him above you as one of his hands goes to your hip, gripping tight as he pulls you towards him in time with his thrusts. it makes you yelp in pleasure, head tiltin back in euphoria.

he pulls back to look at you, hand tugging on your hair so you look at him as he pounds into you. "look at you, such a brat teasing me while i was teaching.” his voice is deep and rough, "look at you now, drunk on my cock. you just needed to remember your place, huh baby?" he coos, pressing a kiss to your temple, the feeling overwhelming as your orgasm creeps up quickly. “such a pretty girl.” he whispers.

you’re speechless as he pounds into you perfectly, the feeling making you sigh. "so perfect, all for me... so fuckin' pretty, baby." he's muttering kissing you like he's claiming you, his teeth clashing slightly with yours and his tongue dominating. you're weak, legs shaking as he pounds into you.

“are you close, doll?” he asks, eyes closed in bliss as he tilts his head back, hair catching the fluorescent light of his office lamp and looking beautiful. “yes, s’close, please-“ you moan, pulling him to your lips.

your eyes close slightly as he thrusts into you, one hand slipping up to roll your nipple softly and making you moan his name. as he sucks a hickey on to your neck, his thrusts begin to get sloppy and you clench around him. “god, you were made for me, baby. fuck, takin’ it so well.”

and you hit your high after a series of pleas and moans of richie’s name, your eyes rolling back in euphoria. he’s rubbing your cheek, still thrusting as he whispers, “good girl, cumming on my cock.” the moan he lets out at the feeling of you clenching around him has you red as you feel his hips stutter. “fuck, y/n.”

you’re still clenching slightly from overstimulation as richie quickly pulls out of you, cumming on your bare stomach with a moan of your name, a sweet sound from the pink of his lips. you moan in pleasure as you watch him.

you look up with hooded eyes, still coming down from your high as his head falls on your shoulder. “fuckin’ hell, toots.” he whispers with a laugh, which makes you giggle a bit as you catch your breath, mind still muddled.

after a moment richie pulls away, re-tucking in his pants and straightening his shirt. he crosses behind you and returns with a shy, boyish grin and a box of tissues. you smile back and he gently guides your hand away as he reaches for a tissue himself, wiping you clean gently and pressing kisses over your stretch marks, kissing all the way up to your lips and making you giggle. your stomach is full of butterflies as he helps you right yourself from the desk.

“did you drive here?” he asks. you shake your head, looking up to him for a second, “i walked.” you squeak.

he nods. “i’m driving you.”

you flush, “no, i couldn’t ask you to do that, professor.” you say shyly. he throws you a look as he pulls his jacket on, shutting down his work laptop. “get over here now, doll. and don’t protest. i’m driving you, toots. it will make my night to buy us some chinese takeout.”

your heart flutters as you take his hand, glancing at the ground with a smile as he locks his door, both of you stopping and staring at the plaque on the outside of the door that reads:

professor tozier, sociology dept.

you cough and he looks down the hall before grabbing your hand again and making your way out to the parking lot. it’s silent - both of you certainly thinking about how wrong this, whatever it is, is. you almost roll your eyes at the cheesiness of what you think next - but why does it feel so right?

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters @melinda-weasley @sassy-uris @loverloserrr

#richie tozier smut #richie tozier x reader #losers club x reader #losers x reader

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saltwatersweetner · 4 years ago

Text

My Strange Addiction

Eren x Reader

You and Eren are never on the same page but what you both can agree on isn’t for the faint of heart

CW: Threats/acts of violence, verbal abuse, mild degradation, praise kink, mild voyarism

You were shaking.

You weren’t exactly sure what it was from. Was it anger? Shock? It didn’t matter because either way it was quickly leading to irritation and something...darker.

You didn’t mean to be like this. So short tempered and volatile. To your credit you weren’t always like this either but when it came to him it was like a switch was flipped.

He was everything.

The sun the moon the air in your lungs the pavement under your shoes. He was every extraordinary and devastating thing the universe had to offer. He leant so much to you—And he knew this—so who was she?

He knew you were here—had seen you enter the party. You knew the weight of his eyes on you like you knew the curves and edges of your own palms.

It wasn’t Mikasa, or anyone you knew he was friends with. Her intentions were clearly less than friendly, her hands playing in his hair and a dopey smile on her mouth. You watch them for a bit—undecided if you were gonna interrupt or not when green clashes with (e/c). It all clicked in your mind at that moment.

You stop shaking.

He wanted you to make a scene.

Straightening your body you lean against the wall behind you with a smirk. You weren’t moving an inch until he came to you. You thought he learned to stop trying to test you at this point but apparently he needed more training.

When your eyes clash again you let your carefully crafted public mask slip down—only slightly—giving him a much needed view of the madness swimming inside you. He was on thin ice and that seemed to give him a much needed reality check because he walks towards you immediately.

It was almost funny to watch a 6 foot tall man almost shrink in on himself as he kept his eyes locked fiercely to the ground. Sipping the rest of the cheap alcohol down you raise your brows at him “What?”

“Im ready to go home please.” The voice he was using was soft, unlike his natural loud speaking voice, he was trying to bide his time by appealing to your more forgiving nature.

Too bad he already crossed the line.

You hum “Oh you’re ready to go home?”

Erens nod is just as soft as his voice. He was playing the role of a good boy rather well and you almost wanted to give him mercy—but, he wouldn’t learn if you did that.

Reaching out you force his chin up so you’d make eye contact. A shiver runs down his spine once he realized the hidden promises of violence dancing in them “Thats not how you ask.”

You watch his adams apple bob up and down as he forces himself to not shake “Can I go home please?”

You don’t answer verbally simply grabbing his wrist and pulling him through the sea of people. You don’t say a word to him until you’re in your car speeding down the desolate roads

“Are you fucking stupid?” Your voice is like a bullet.

The silence had slowly been killing him if the way he’d been fidgeting in his seat were anything to go by.

“And you were being so fucking good lately, only to fuck it up like you always do.”

“Im still good.” He sounds almost offended with the implications of him no longer being good.

Eren liked being good it got him things but being bad—pissing you off to the point of no return? Got him more.

“You’re a useless fucking brat.”

You glance over to see him pouting, a conflicted look on his face. He wasn’t sure what he wanted you to say exactly. You would prefer his need to seek praise and affection would win out on his need to be a brat but of course Eren never took the painless route ever.

“I don’t see the big deal we didn’t even do anything you’re just overreacting.”

Overreacting?

The thin cord that was holding the darkness back snaps.

Slamming your foot on the break you move the car into park and turn to face Eren very slowly. His hands we’re braced on the dash having not expected you to hit the breaks in such a manner. Before he could react you had the front of his shirt clutched tight in your hand pulling him inches from your face.

You weren’t sure what look you had on your face but it had him squirming in your grasp “I will slaughter her and make you watch do you want to test me tonight Eren?”

His pupils were blown wide and he was breathing like he just ran a marathon. And still that stupid smile was on his lips.

“Do it.”

You almost can’t help but backhand him. The gasp he lets out is almost erotic and the blissed out look he gives you in turn is truly rewarding.

“Touch me—please?”

You watch blood drip down his mouth, your hit having split his lip. Rubbing the area with your thumb you suddenly press down on it with your nail making him gasp in pain “Hm I don’t think so.”

“M’good I’ll be so good I promise please please.” He was stuck between a state of panic and arousal.

He wanted to be punished so bad he yearned for it but considering his recent behavior that would only fuel him so the best punishment was no punishment at all really. He’d drive himself mad with all the things he thought you’d do and you’d give him nothing in return.

Letting go of his lip you turn back in your seat and push the car back into drive, ignoring the whines of the boy next to you. You needed a moment to think about what you were gonna do about that girl. You couldn’t hurt her—yet. All fingers would immediately point to you and—

Your hand shoots out stopping him from pulling his zipper down. Pressing a finger against his bulge you raise your eyebrows in amusement.

“Oh impatient? Thats not very good Eren I though you said you’re gonna be good?” Sliding your fingers down you gently palm him through his pants.

Eren was shaking his whole body alive from a single touch in the place he wanted it most. Breathing labored he stare at you from beneath his lashes “I am—I promise I can be so good.”

Humming you move your middle and ring fingers in gentle circles barely putting down the pressure he craved “oh really? Show me.”

Eren eagerly ruts against your palm, eager to please, eager to show you just how good he could be and you loved it. You loved when he behaved and did as he was told—he was so pretty and perfect that way. It meant you didn’t have to hurt his pretty little body but you knew him and you knew that when you damaged him—when you bruised his pretty skin, was when he liked you the most.

Eren tips over the edge without ceremony.

He pants like a bitch in heat obviously expecting praise but you offer him none. There was no reward for bad behavior and so you remove your hand.

“I—I was good right?”

Shrugging you turn the radio on letting whatever tired radio host’s voice fill the heavy silence “I dont know Eren, were you?”

“You...you have to tell me I was good.”

Raising your eyebrows you laugh, you know its a cruel sound with the way he sinks in his seat upon not receiving praise “I dont have to do anything...we’ll be home in 10 minutes.”

#eren x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #aot imagines #aot x gn!reader #snk x reader #gn!reader #snk imagines #eren yaegar

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mr-walkingrainbow · 3 years ago

Note

imma slide in your asks, i would like limited mobility for abimel :)

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Wanna watch something?”

“No.”

“A board game?”

“WHO in their right mind VOLUNTARILY plays board games?!”

Abigael sighed, although annoying, her girlfriend had a point.

However, their wasn’t much she could offer currently to to Mels situation.

To be frank, somehow a trip to the doctor to get Maggie’s flu shot ended up with Mel having a broken ankle.

Apparently, when confronted with needles, shorty spice either feinted like a sack of potatoes, or transformed into a higher being of savagery and desperation.

Macy had informed her that this time it had been both.

She wasn’t even going to ask how that was physically possible.

Unfortunately, Mel now was on strict bed rest, and her normal ADHD tunnel vision girlfriend, was ridden to a grumpy miserable couch potato.

“Come on,” Abby cajoled in her British accent, “I bet theirs something we can do to make you feel better?”

Mel got a sneaky look in her eyes, hand snaking up Abbys head and giving a quick teasing tug to her locks.

Bloody hell.

Abigael bit her lip, hand grasping Mels remaining one violently. Ignoring the near desperate urge to moan and fall into her girlfriends wonderful arms, she took a long shuddering breath.

“N-no Melanie. N-not that. You can’t do anything involving much movement besides go to the loo.”

Mels smile immediately turned to a scowl once again, which gave Abby the time to regroup. Hand fluttering upwards to touch the area she had tugged.

Damn Melanie and her knowledge of her weakest points. It made scenarios like this exceptionally hard.

“Besides that, what else can you think of that would lift your spirits?”

“I don’t know!” The Latina crankily exclaimed, “You tell me! Your my girlfriend you should know these things!”

Abby raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, “Now I will excuse that comment because your grumpy and your in pain. But if your going to be a grump about it, I will quickly just as leave.”

Mel relaxed slightly, frowing, “Sorry Cariño, I’m just so miserable!”

“I understand the feeling love,” she smiled soothingly, “But we’ll figure something out!”

She took a scrutinizing eye to the witch, studying her every move. Mel was obviously more clingy then usual, never letting go of Abigaels hand once while she sat perched on the edge of the couch.

It gave her an idea.

“I know how to turn that frown upside down!”

The laters eyebrows furrowed, “How?”

“AGQS!”

“Scuzi?”

Abby laughed slightly at her girlfriends shortened version of ‘excuse me’,

“AGQS, aka A good quality snuggle! Theirs nothing like it! A real mood changer.”

Mel seemed to ponder this, “Well Im not saying no?”

“Snuggles it is!”

She then proceeded to wedge herself in the space between Mel and the couch, being extra careful not to jostle the injured ankle in the process.

“Their!” She cooed softly, her head resting on the laters shoulder, “Do you feel a bit better now?”

Mel sighed contently, “Ai! Mi querida, you always know how to make me feel better.”

“Good! Now, we can find some Halloween movies on the box because Halloween movies are superior to anything.”

The Latina smiled, soon breaking into a frown and wailing.

“B-but were out of popcornnnnn!”

Deary me, Abigael might have misjudged how emotional Mel currently was.

“Don’t worry Atlantis, I’ll get you some popcorn.” She assured.

The fat tears soon rolled down the lesbians face, something Abby had assumed would happen eventually. Whenever her girlfriend was sick or hurt, her emotions would go all over the place and all rational thinking was out the door. And that would lead to tears of hysteria.

Something Abby was still struggling to figure out.

“What is it?” She questioned worriedly, “What’s wrong? Does your ankle hurt? Do you need more painkillers? Are you hungry? What’s wrong Melanie?!”

“I-I don’t w-want you to Le-eave!” Mel cried, arms flailing uselessly.

“Hey, hey! It’s ok,” Abigael placated, it was both endearing and grating how unpredictable Mel became when hurt, “I won’t leave ok? I’ll stay right here.”

The Latina looked at her with glassy eyes, “B-but who will get the popcorn?”

GRAGGH! Abby fought the urge to scream, instead taking a deep breath and returning the gaze with love and care.

“I’ll ring up Jordy. He��d gladly do anything for you Mel.”

“You too!” Her girlfriend exclaimed.

“Huh?”

The witch looked at her sadly, “He’d do it for you too!”

“That’s lovely of you to say,” Abby grinned fondly, “But Jordy doesn’t hold me to that standard”.

To her chagrin, the laters eyes filled up with even more tears, prompt bursting into loud sobs.

“Oh god! Mel what is it?”

She sat up in a panic, checking Mels ankle to see if it had shifted any way. To her knowledge everything looked the same.

She looked back at her girlfriend desperately, “Mel I don’t know why your so upset? Please tell me?”

“B-because y-you don’t t-think your good en-nough for f-friendship!” Mel choked out between sobs.

“What?! Why would you think that?”

“Because y-you don’t think j-jordys your friend!”

“Ugh! Fine! Bloody hell Mel, me and Jordy are the bestest besties in all the besties in the world? Satisfied?!”

Her girlfriend flashed her a teary smile, “Very.”

With another groan and something muttered under her breath, Abigael rang up her ‘Bestie’ saying it was a popcorn emergency and if Jordan didn’t get their in the next five minutes, he was gonna have two angry witch’s at his door.

“Hey, Abby?” Jordan’s voice crackled through the phone.

She paused, unsure of wether to answer.

“I just wanted to say it’s good to hear from you.” He stated, “We should meet up sometime, and try and get through an actual convo without any of us getting into some Magical based trouble.”

“I’d like that.” The hybrid answered softly. Immediately shutting off her phone afterwards.

It was hard for her to let her walls down, to allow people inside. To even consider the possibility that someone cared for her.

But aside from Melanie, Jordy had been that one other person who’d managed to evade all her carefully laid traps and walls.

So she guess, in this case, she at least owed him a friendly conversation.

Her attention turned back to her already wailing girlfriend, who was literally clawing at her clothes to get her back on the couch with her.

“Alright already, geez,” she cursed silently, “Watch the clothes Melanie. You know I’d be livid if you ripped anything.”

The clawing stopped, but the Latina got a cheesy smile on her face.

“Nooo you won’t!”

Abby blushed, eyebrows crinkling, “Whatever do you mean?”

“You loooove me,” the lesbian cheered, “You loooove me and caaaare for me and wanna kiiiiss me and-“

-“God your childish when your in pain!”

Mel pouted slightly, sticking her lower lip out.

Bloody hell.

Mel knows she can’t say no to her puppy dog eyes.

Abigael rolled her eyes fondly, head coming to a rest back on Mels chest.

“Oh all right. I love you. But if you tell anyone I’ll roast your head on a spit. I have a reputation to uphold.”

The witch grinned like a maniac, “Your secrets safe with me.”

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nomazee · 4 years ago

Text

Komorebi (6)

komorebi, final.

synopsis: Tsukishima dislikes the amount of parallels there are with you and Hinata. He dislikes the way you’re so energetic and exuberant when you want to be, and the way you can get along so well with people. He dislikes the way that people are naturally drawn to you, and the way you’re so willing to put time into your dumb gifts and snacks and treats for a team of boys you barely know. But Tsukishima does not dislike you. And he supposes that’s part of the problem.

series content: developing relationship, (sort of) ooc tsukishima, strangers to (sort of) friends to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn

(the final part!! i don’t wanna ramble too much for right now so all of my final thoughts will be at the end!

love yall :) )

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

Just like that, Tsukishima is back to square one.

The world goes silent for a few days. He hates to admit that he’s losing sleep over you, but at this point he’s too far gone to care what anyone thinks about him. Except for you--and while he knows that assuming things is bad, he can only conclude by the way you looked so scared of him before, that you do not think he’s a good person.

(The gifts you gave him nearly contradict that assumption. But he ignores those for the most part. The scarf you gave him a while ago rests on a chair in his room and more often than not he finds himself staring at it during the deep hours of the night. He hasn’t worn it yet.)

Yamaguchi keeps giving him glances during class--not that that’s any different from before, but it irks him more now that he’s actually seen you. The blonde wonders if his friend knew about you, knew that you were going to drop something off in that moment and just never thought to warn him. Maybe you two were plotting that together, like an odd sort of revenge tactic.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know a lot of things. What he does know is that he’s tired, and he misses you, and he wants to be warm again.

The morning is cold when we wakes up. He wasn’t really sleeping--it was one of those nights of a daze of exhaustion where he kept blinking himself awake. At five-thirty AM, he sighs, staring at the blank, matte wall of his ceiling. Tsukishima wills himself to crawl out of his bed and get ready for school. It’s still dark outside, the flames of daylight creeping up on the horizon while he steps around his room.

He’s ready to leave by six. His mother is awake, sitting in the kitchen sipping hot tea and scrolling through her cellphone. She catches a glimpse of her son walking through the front door--Tsukishima feels her pensive gaze on him but refuses to say anything, just like always.

The air is cold. Despite the long-sleeved uniform he’s wearing, Tsukishima feels ill-prepared to face the day, in more than one way. Nevertheless, he lets go of his reluctance at the door and trudges onward in the frigid air, nose flushed with red and cheeks going numb in a matter of seconds.

(The scarf is in his bag now rather than his desk chair, hidden beneath his books and folders and pencils. He wants to wear it, knows he should, but his guilty conscious tells him to leave it unworn for now.)

The walk passes by quickly, far too quickly for his comfort. Before Tsukishima knows it, he’s faced with the front doors of the very school he dreads to enter.

His fingers tingle with numbness as he pulls at the metal handles of the door. The school is quiet, empty for the most part. The faint shuffle of teachers in their classrooms echoes throughout the halls as his feet lead him to Class 1-4.

There’s a faint pitter-patter of footsteps from inside the classroom. Tsukishima passes it off as one of his teachers, again, but the sight he’s met with when he walks through the doorway gives him a disturbing sense of deja vu.

You’re there, at his desk--the same bracelet from a few days ago resting on top of a box that you seem to have just placed on his desk. You blink up at him owlishly. He can only return the gesture, dumbstruck as he is.

It’s too reminiscent of the events from a few days ago. Once again, his eyes are prickling with stinging pain and his throat dries up.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what to do.

What does he know, he wonders. He knows he hates crying. It’s unfortunate that that’s the only thing he seems capable of doing.

It’s all overwhelming for him. The cold of the outside lingering on his skin, the sheets of sunlight pouring through the window as the sun rises, your eyes, your sheer presence in front of him. It piles on his shoulder and soon he feels liquid heat pouring down his cheeks.

Tsukishima Kei is crying. In front of you, in a classroom, watching you grip the box in your hands and stare at him, unmoving.

His throat hurts. He tries to choke down any audible sobs, but loud, ugly sniffles echo throughout the room. He wants to fall through the floor, squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to look at you. He can’t bear to know that you find him pathetic, even more so than he already seemed in the last few weeks.

Distantly, he recognizes the sound of footsteps coming closer to him but tunes them out in hopes that he’s just imagining them. A hand finds its way to his shoulder--it’s warm, and he flinches. He knows it’s yours, knows by the heat of it and the comfort he feels from a simple touch. It’s the first time he’s felt your touch, but he feels so light now--so warm and comfortable and cloudy.

“Kei.” It’s your voice. It swims through the air and into his ears, sobs only increasing in severity at the sound of his first name on your lips. Your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, both sets of fingers gently brushing away the pouring stream.

Fond. Tsukishima Kei is very fond of the feeling of your skin on his. He hopes he can become well-acquainted with it, if he tries hard enough.

“Kei, it’s okay.” You’re so soft, voice low and lacking any hostility he expected you to have. Your thumbs pat at his under eyes, soaking up the wetness that pools.

“Can you look at me?” He’s stubborn, hand coming up to grip your wrist and lips clamped tightly shut to reduce the shiver of his entire body as he weeps. A gentle shake of his head makes you sigh--he knows the way he’s acting is so uncharacteristic but he can’t help it. Not with the feel of your hands on his face, your voice, the sound of his first name spoken by you still ringing in his ears.

“It’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here.”

You are here. It seems impossible to him, but you’re here. With him. With your hands giving him warmth and comfort and fondness. Everything he ever wanted.

His eyes blink open. Tsukishima Kei looks at you--really looks. Your lips are upturned, gentle as is the rest of you. The sun is halfway above the horizon now, the light from it filtering through the leaves of the trees that are planted outside the window. The golden rays hit your eyes perfectly, changing the hue the slightest bit and making him stop his tears momentarily--just to admire you.

You blink at him. You smile. Tsukishima Kei is in love, just a little bit.

☾.:°∗★.:☆:.★∗°:.☽

(so... this has been a wild ride.

first off i wanna say thank you for all the support i’ve received throughout this whole thing! it really means so much to me. i love you all so much.

im very proud of myself for finishing this. this is by no means the greatest product i could’ve created--it was a little bit messy, and the word count of the entire series (ab 6000 i think) is lower than some long oneshots i’ve seen.

there’s a lot of things i could’ve done better--no doubt about that. but i am very proud of myself for making this. for finishing a WHOLE multipart series,,,,yes it was short but......its here! i did it! i’m finished! very happy with this.

this series was mainly set in tsukishima’s own head--and i know it was probably at least a little disappointing that it was NOT action-based---and the fact that it was tsukki-centric was definitely a downer to some people because you didnt really get to feel what.... YOU would feel in that situation. we didnt get to see that here.

and its okay if that’s what you disliked most!!! in truth i think that was one of my biggest weaknesses writing this series. but i liked it this way, i think. i like trying to analyze characters within my writing and i think that, at the very least, this was a good challenge for me to try to take on with characterization and the like.

anyways....that’s it i think! thank you so much for supporting me, really. i’m very thankful for everyone whose liked or reblogged any of the parts to komorebi. you are all incredible i love you. <3)

(pssst!!! i’ll be talking about my 200 follower event soon. if you wanna participate, be on the lookout for that!!)

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei x you #kei x reader #kei x you #kei tsukishima x reader #kei tsukishima x you #tsukki x reader #tsukki x you #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu oneshot #tsukishima fanfiction

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bts-bay-bee · 4 years ago

Text

heartless

Genre: angst, fluff?

Word Count: 3056 (this is much longer than it’s supposed to be)

Warning: alcohol, puking, terrible writing, unedited work

A/N: this is requested by my sweet bb @tangledsparkles 🥺 it’s loosely inspired by The Weeknd’s ‘Heartless’. also, im never gonna forgive you for letting me watch that music video when you know im scared of frogs, eye-

(I don’t own this picture! Credit to the respective owner)

You just came back in my life

You never gave up on me

I'll never know what you see

I don't do well when alone

You hear it clear in my tone

“Jimin said you’d be here, so I came.” His voice slurred into your ear as you pressed your phone against your ear. “But why aren’t you? Why didn’t you come? Are you avoiding me, Y/N?”

That voicemail was one of five. As you listened to each voicemail, he got progressively more drunk, his words almost incoherent. It was almost as if the universe had decided to play some sick joke on you, simply looking for some sort of twisted entertainment at your expense.

“Y/N, come to the party!” He whined, hiccupping slightly with a watery voice. “I just want to see you again. Why aren’t you coming? Don’t you love me anymore?”

His words stung you, making you wince as your heart dropped to the floor. Of course you loved him – how could you not? You had spent the better part of the past three years with him. It wasn’t possible to forgot about him in just a few months.

Your ringing phone tore you out of your thoughts. His name, still with the single heart next to it, flashed across the screen. Almost out of muscle memory, your fingers answered the call before speaking into the mic.

“Taehyung, where are you?”

“Y/N, why aren’t you here?” He slurred, speaking too loudly. He was definitely too drunk to be alone. “Jimin said –”

“Where are you?” You repeated, opening the Uber app on your phone to send one to him. You already knew that the rest of the boys were drunk, but they all had someone to take care of them, someone to look after them in their intoxicated state. Only Taehyung had no one to go home to. “Do you want me to send you an Uber?”

“Come fetch me.” He whined. “I want to see you.” You bit your lip, knowing that he wouldn’t budge on his request. But you didn’t think your heart could face seeing him again. Not after how you had left him the last time. “Y/N, please, baby.”

“Send me your location.” You replied weakly, your insides already twisting with regret. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Moments later, you found yourself driving to the destination that had immediately been sent to you by Taehyung. You knew the address well – after all, you had spent a lot of time there over the past three years. It was Jimin’s house. Although you knew this was a mistake, you felt like you owned this to him: taking care of him, just as how he had done to you before.

“My Y/N.” Taehyung sang as he saw you walk up to him. He had been sitting on the sidewalk for who knows how long, waiting for you to come. He gently took hold of your hand and tried to pull you down, to sit with him, but thanks to his intoxicated state, he didn’t have the strength or the coordination to do so. “Come sit with me, baby.”

“You need to go home, Taehyung.” You said, trying to scold him but your tone was just too soft. “You can’t sit here the entire night.”

“Why would I want to go home?” He laughed, hiccupping slightly. “What’s there for me?”

“Stand up.” You murmured, ignoring his heartbroken words, as well as how right his hand felt in your own. “Come on.”

Out the corner of your eye, you saw Jimin and Jungkook looking at the scene unfold. Truthfully, they had become a little distant with you, but not unfriendly. If they saw you around town, or just in passing, they’d talk to you briefly. But it was clear that they didn’t agree with the way you had handled things with Taehyung.

“Can I come to your place?” He slurred, allowing you to gently lift him using his hands to tug him up.

“No, I’m taking you back to yours.” You sighed, wrapping his arm around your neck to that he could lean on you for support. You didn’t know if he had heard you or not, but you didn’t question it. You would rather he didn’t ask questions.

Eventually making it back to your car, you opened the passenger-side door, trying to put him inside gently.

“Watch your head.” You mumbled, placing a hand above his head so that he wouldn’t hurt himself. He stared at you, not exactly knowing why he was, but he didn’t want to stop. He took in your every movement, mesmerised by the way you strapped him in with the safety belt.

As you closed the car door, careful not to do it too loud (as it might frighten Taehyung), you realised that Jimin and Jungkook were still looking at both of you. Waving your hand in greeting, you then bowed your head slightly, before walking around the car and getting in.

“My Y/N!” Taehyung sang for the second time tonight whilst making grabby hands towards you. “Who did you wave to?”

“Jimin and Kookie.” You replied curtly, starting the car and driving away. He looked at you with his head cocked to the side, giving you the impression of an overgrown child. The cuteness was almost enough to make you giggle.

Choosing to ignore him for the rest of the car ride, you kept your eyes fixed on the road in front of you. Unbeknownst to you, he had been staring at you the entire time, a slight pout on his plush lips indicating his confusion and frustration – all because you didn’t give him the attention he wanted.

“Baby, why aren’t you looking at me?” He whined, rubbing his large hand against your knee. The tiny action caused your heartrate to spike, making heat rise to your face. “You’re very pretty. I want to see you.”

“Taehyung, I’m driving!” You scolded, voice rising ever so slightly, as he tried to grab your hand. He let out a sound of frustration, making his irritation known.

“God, you don’t want to marry me, you don’t let me hold your hand. Did you ever love me?”

“I – Of course, I do.” You murmured quietly, throat constricting at his forlorn tone. “You know I do.”

“Then what’s the issue? Why don’t you want to be with me anymore?” He replied with his muscular arms crossed over his chest. You noticed that his voice was almost completely void of any slur, indicating that he was sobering up slowly. Choosing to ignore his question, you parked your car at his apartment block, before unlocking your car doors.

“Can you walk?” You asked, not turning to look at him. When he didn’t answer, you noticed he had fallen asleep, forehead pressed against the glass window as little snores left his parted mouth. “Aish, Kim Taehyung. I swear you’re going to be the death of me.”

You walked around the car, over to his side, before slowly opening the door, careful to not let his head tilt too much. Unbuckling his safety belt, you gently shook his shoulder, trying to wake him. “Tae? Wake up. You need to go inside.”

Slowly, his eyes opened, still cloudy from intoxication. His hands found purchase in your own, holding onto them tightly. “Come on, let’s go inside.” You murmured, helping him out your car before locking it.

“I miss you, Jagi.” He mumbled as he stumbled into the elevator. Sighing, you took his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, trying your best to stabilize him. He took this as an invitation to wrap his other arm around you as well, pulling you tightly to his chest as he embraced you.

This simple gesture was enough to cause a burn at the back of your eyes. He still smelled like him: something earthy, musky yet sweet like honey at the same time. Granted, his scent was now slightly tainted with whiskey, bourbon and whatever else he had drunk, but it was still him. Still your Taehyung.

Catching yourself, you tore your body from his, just in time for the elevator doors to open. He was still wobbly on his feet, which resulted in it taking about ten minutes to make it to his apartment. Pushing a pot plant aside, you found the spare key he had hidden, using it to open the front door.

“Have you eaten anything?” You asked as you carefully placed him on the sofa. The very same sofa where you had left him when you walked out on him. He shook his head in response, causing you to sigh. “That’s why you’re so drunk, Tae.”

“Keep calling me that.” He replied, smiling goofily. “You’re the only one allowed to call me that, okay, Y/N?”

Choosing once again to ignore his drunken nonsense, you went into the kitchen and opened the cupboards to find something to cook. Disappointment filled you as you saw the nearly empty shelves, only a lone packet of instant noodles met your eyes.

“Why are the drawers empty – Taehyung?” You had originally turned around to chastise him, knowing that he had probably not been eating properly, but he wasn’t anywhere in sight. Instead, you heard retching coming from the bathroom, making you sigh as you walked there, following the sounds.

The door was slightly ajar, some feeble attempt at saving his integrity, showing you Taehyung on his knees, back convulsing as the alcohol tried to escape his body. You begun rubbing his back soothingly, trying to coax the sickness away.

“Don’t – Don’t look at me like this…” He trailed off, before wincing as he retched. Unphased, you continued to stroke his back, using one hand to keep his long hair out of his face. “Y/N, please…”

“It’s okay, Tae, just let it out.” You murmured, trying to ignore the sinewy muscles under your fingers. You kept cooing at him until he no longer vomited, making sure he was completely done before gently pulling him up to his feet. “Do you think you can wash your face and brush your teeth?”

Once he nodded, you left the bathroom, still intent on making him something to eat. As you busied yourself in the familiar kitchen, you couldn’t help but notice that he still kept the polaroids of the both of you stuck onto the fridge. It was as if you had never left his life.

A few minutes later, he padded into the kitchen, now changed from jeans to sweatpants, with his long hair pulled back into a small ponytail. As he plopped himself down onto the barstool, you placed the bowl of noodles in front of him, as well as a pair of chopsticks.

“Think you can feed yourself?” You asked, not sure if he could keep his head up by himself, let alone eat. He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak, as the alcohol induced headache slowly crept up on him.

You didn’t respond verbally: instead, you choose to sit next to him, spinning his chair to face you, then began slowly feeding him. His eyes never left your own, the dark mocha orbs slowly becoming clearer as the alcohol left his system. After you were done with the noodles, you placed a glass of water and some painkillers in front of him, already knowing that he had probably started getting the slow throbs of a headache.

Leaving him to take his pills in the kitchen, you walked to what use to be your shared room with Taehyung, knowing that he probably left it too untidy for him to actually sleep in. Once again, the heart-wrenchingly familiar sight met your eyes: it was exactly the same as it was when you had last been here. From the single, messy side of the bed, you realised that Taehyung had even stayed on his side of the bed – your side was crisp, clean and as neat as ever.

Choosing to ignore the pang in your chest, you walked forward to quickly make his bed. You grabbed the comforter to smooth it out before fluffing up the pillows exactly how he would. Quickly running your hand over the bed, making sure it was as smooth as it could be, you decided it was time to put Taehyung in bed: the sooner you were out of here, the better.

You stepped back to fetch Taehyung, but the red, velvet-covered box caught your eye. Your stomach dropped to the ground as you realised what it was. With your hand shaking, you reached out to the box, gently grasping it before opening it. The ring – although it wasn’t your first time seeing it – was breath-taking: the black band studded with small diamonds surrounding a much larger, glinting diamond inlaid in the centre.

Carefully lifting the jewellery from its cushion, you noticed that he had engraved your anniversary date on the band, as well as his initials – this narcissistic detail made you snort with laughter: it was so much like Taehyung to do that. Putting a ring on your finger wasn’t enough to claim you – he wanted to label you with his name as well. You know he didn’t do that as some sort of sick, over possessive trick: if you had said yes, his wedding band would have had your initials.

“You can take it if you want.” A hoarse voice behind you whispered, scaring you enough to make you jump. “It is yours after all, Y/N.”

“Let’s get you into bed.” You softly said, your chest feeling warm at the sight of him. He made no move to get into the newly made bed, which made you think he was still a little drunk, rendering him motionless. But when you placed your hand in his – to help him into bed – his hand was no longer clammy and hot, which were signs of his intoxication. They were slightly warm, and dry; looking into his eyes, you realised that he was now completely sober.

His eyes held yours, the intimate gesture causing every inch of your skin to light aflame, sending you signals to leave now. From past experience, you knew just how vulnerable his eyes made you. You tugged on your hand that was now threaded in his fingers, but it didn’t budge.

“Please don’t go.” He whispered, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Don’t leave yet. Please, Y/N.”

His voice sounded so soft, so broken, that you couldn’t help but feel your own eyes slowly pool with moisture. Against your will, your throat burned, causing your bottom lip to tremble. He noticed this, and before you could comprehend what had happened, you found yourself pulled flush against his hard chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

His scent assaulted your senses again, but this time it caused the start of your tears falling. You missed this so much, it almost hurt to think of anything else. Vaguely noticing his arms unwrapping from your body, he sat on the bed with you in his lap and used his rough fingers to wipe away the never-ending stream of tears.

“Don’t cry.” He said, thickly, his own tears slowly dripping down his face. Using the pad of your thumb, you brushed the droplets away from his face, tracing his cheekbone after you were done to soothe him.

“I miss you so much.” You admitted, tears still streaming down your face as you hiccupped your words out. “I thought about you every single day, Tae. You were always on my mind.”

“You never left mine, baby.” He replied, truthfully. “You have no idea how badly I missed you. Not seeing you every day was torture.”

You didn’t say anything for a few minutes, instead choosing to savour his embrace, his presence for as long as you could. You didn’t know if this would ever happen again. Despite the emotional baggage you had both just thrown at one another, it didn’t change the fact that you had walked out on him.

“Why did you say no?” He whispered, now laying against the bed, next to you. “I was so confident you were going to marry me.”

Gnawing on your lip, mainly out of frustration, you didn’t know how to answer this without sounding like a complete fool. “I’m terrified, Tae. I’m scared that I won’t be enough for you. I’m worried that our love would slowly disappear. I’m scared that you would stop loving me, but we’d be in too deep with being married for you to leave me. As much as being alone scares me, I’d never force you to stay with me if you weren’t happy. I just… I just don’t want to be another divorce statistic.”

He slowly took in your words, staring at you the entire time as he gave you his undivided attention. When you didn’t hear him respond after a few beats, you turned to him, waiting for him to speak.

“So… It wasn’t because there was something wrong with me? Not because I did something wrong?” He asked, weakly, his face full of unspoken emotion. Your eyes filled with tears once again at his words: your rash actions had resulted in him thinking that he was the issue.

“You’re perfect, Taehyung.” You answered, turning onto your side so that you could cup his face gently. His eyes closed at your featherlight touch. “You’ve never done anything wrong.”

You spent a few moments basking in the presence of one another – having spent a couple months apart, you simply just missed being near him. His large hand wrapped around your waist pulling you to him, needing you to be as close as humanly possible; now that he had finally gotten you back in his arms, he wasn’t going to let you go.

“So, what now?” You asked, almost shyly as your hand lightly caressed his spine.

“I know we still have a lot to talk about,” He truthfully replied, knowing that there were many more conversations to be had before you two could fully go back to the way you used to be. “But you’ll spend the night, right?”

“If you take me to get pancakes, I’ll even spend the morning.” You teased, relishing in the loud boom of his deep laughter.

#taehyung #taehyung imagines #bts #bts imagines #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #requests #bts taehyung #bts angst #taehyung angst #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #fanfiction #bts fanfiction

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secretpeachtea · 4 years ago

Text

Onigiri Miya Tidbits Ch 3

Title: the unexpected reunion

Genre: gen fic, reader insert

Word count: 5.1k

Summary: Onigiri Miya is now hiring and you just happen to be the right person for the job. The business has been gaining popularity since its grand opening, and many customers travel from different cities just to have a bite of Miya Osamu’s delicious recipes. You did expect some craziness from working in food services, but what you didn’t expect was to be bombarded with frequent tomfoolery from a bunch of attractive volleyball players during your shifts.

disclaimer: manga spoilers

A/N: I uhh went a little overboard with the word count this time, but im a hoe for msby so whoops. hope you enjoy!

Previous///Next

“Good work today, (Name)-san!”

“You too, Osamu-san!”

Your boss walks up to the entrance and switches over the sign to display ‘Closed’. You let out a deep yawn as you grab the broom to start your nightly cleaning routine at Onigiri Miya.

It’s hard to believe that it’s already been a month since you started working here. You can honestly say that this is probably the most enjoyable job position you’ve had in a while. You were able to learn new onigiri recipes and even started recognizing some of the regular customers that have fallen in love with Osamu’s cooking. This includes a very kind, elderly woman who always makes sure to give you a peppermint every time she stops by.

Your friendly relationship with Osamu has definitely been one of the most obvious reasons why you’ve been able to juggle everything in your life along with working for your expenses. He’s become a trustworthy and reliable person even though you’ve only known each other for a short period of time. Although it was a bit awkward calling each other by your first names in the beginning, you both got fairly comfortable addressing each other since you practically see him almost every day.

Though he doesn’t necessarily count as a customer, Osamu’s troublemaker brother is another frequent guest at Onigiri Miya. Atsumu comes by to visit at least once a week to eat or stop by after practice. By default, that means you’ve had the pleasure to deal with his antics every week since the kitchen massacre incident. He’s even gotten into the habit of calling you ‘sweetheart’ just to get some reaction out of you. You have to admit, it’s pretty fun to watch the twins banter back and forth, especially since Osamu always makes Atsumu pay for whatever he eats (“But, I’m your brother!”/”Yeah, so you should support my business.”).

Despite the chaos that follows Miya Atsumu, you always end up striking up a decent conversation, usually revolving around volleyball and his team. He always brings up how he’ll bring over the team eventually, but it’s just been a bit busy lately since they were preparing for tryouts. He actually hasn’t come by for a couple days now for that reason.

You snap out of your thoughts when you hear Osamu’s phone ringing. Judging by the slight scowl on his face, it’s probably his brother. You just continue to sweep under the counter, assuming that the call isn’t that important.

“You’re what? Right now? Seriously?” Osamu questions with a slightly peeved tone. There’s a brief pause as the other person on the other line starts whining. Your boss just sighs in defeat. “Fine. Only this one time since it’s been a while.”

Osamu ends the call reluctantly and you’re slightly concerned at his reaction. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, ‘Tsumu just told me that he’s on his way here with some of his teammates. Apparently they’re celebrating the new player on their team but everywhere else is closed or too crowded.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised that he told you last minute,” You sympathized.

“They’re gonna be a bit rowdy, so I guess I’ll just apologize now for bringing you into this mess. You can just continue doing your own thing and not worry about them.” The man just let out another tired sigh before making his way back behind the counter area and setting up any ingredients he may need to make more food. You let out a chuckle and waved off the unnecessary apology before continuing your sweeping.

It seems like the guys really told Osamu last minute because before you knew it, the front door flew open and a group of boisterous male voices rang through the air. You were so startled that you almost dropped the broom in your hands, turning your focus away from the guys that just walked in.

“Hey, ‘Samu! We’re here to party!”

“It’s been a while!”

“Wow! This place seems really nice! Your brother's pretty cool, Atsumu-san!”

Your body froze. You were caught off guard with the last person who spoke and couldn’t help but turn around quickly to confirm your suspicions. You were faced with four males clad in the yellow tracksuits you’ve become used to seeing since it’s the only thing you’ve seen the blonde Miya twin wear. Each held onto their own gym bags, so you assume that they just got out of practice. You recognize Atsumu and Bokuto. The one wearing a mask has never visited Onigiri Miya, but you can assume he’s Sakusa Kiyoomi, or better known as ‘Omi-Omi’ since that’s the nickname you hear from Atsumu’s stories. However, what you didn’t expect was to come face to face with a familiar mop of orange hair.

“Sho-kun?”

Everyone’s eyes shot towards your direction at your sudden interruption, including Hinata Shoyo’s. “No way! (Name)-san?!”

You placed your broom against the wall and the two of you made a beeline towards each other. Once you were close enough, Hinata engulfed you in a big bear hug. Even though he isn’t much taller than you, his muscular build entrapped you in a warm and comforting embrace. He rocks the two of you back and forth gleefully and you can’t help but squeal from the cute gesture.

Once the two of you separate, you both face each other with curiosity completely ignorant of the other people in the room who are looking back and forth between you guys in a state of bewilderment and shock.

“I didn’t know you worked here!” Hinata exclaimed.

“I actually only started working here about a month ago!” You responded back just as excitedly. “When did you get back to Japan? How’s Pedro? I didn’t get the chance to swap contact info before I left.”

“About a week ago! I tried to settle in and fix my sleeping schedule before I went to tryouts for Black Jackals and I got on the team! And, Pedro’s doing great! I can give you his social media account if you want!”

It seems like Atsumu was the first to get tired of watching without understanding the situation, so he just decides to break the ice himself, “Now, hold on a sec. You two know each other?”

“We actually met in Brazil!” Hinata replies.

“BRAZIL?!”

Osamu decided to join in on the questioning, albeit in a bit more of a reserved manner than his brother. “(Name)-san, why were you in Brazil?”

“I studied abroad for about 6 months lasts year,” you start to explain and then begin to ruffle Hinata’s hair. “I happened to run into Sho-kun after his bike broke down in front of the apartment I was staying at. Poor guy looked so lost, and his phone was out of battery so he couldn’t call anyone.”

The boy just laughs at your friendly gesture. “Yeah! (Name)-san helped me find the nearest repair shop and even patched up my injuries! I was really surprised to find someone else who spoke Japanese!”

“Same here. I didn’t know anyone in Brazil, so it was a bit lonely. We actually met up quite a few times to share a meal or watch a volleyball match at the beach whenever we were both free.”

The rest of the guys listened on with interest, except for maybe Sakusa who just walked over to one of the empty tables and wiped down the chair before taking a seat. Atsumu makes his way over to where you and Hinata are standing and throws an arm over the younger boy. “You guys seem pretty close if you’re on a first name basis, Shoyo-kun.”

Hinata just looked up to his fellow team member with innocent eyes. “Well, everyone called us by our first names in Brazil, so we just decided to go with it since it was getting a bit confusing for some of our friends.”

“That’s pretty cute. You guys are basically best friends already.” Atsumu just hummed in acknowledgement before turning his head towards Sakusa. “Him and I are also on a first name basis ‘cause we’re the best of friends. Ain’t that right, Omi-Omi?”

You could hear a faint “tch” come from the masked figure. “Don’t associate me with one of your fantasies, Miya. And, I only called you by your first name that one time when your brother delivered food to the gym.”

“So cruel, Omi-Omi.”

“Okay, guys. Take a seat! Food’s ready!” Osamu announces. “(Name)-san, you mind helping me bring some of this stuff?”

You nod your head and take some of the warm food into your hands following your boss to where all four of the guys are now seated. Similar to when you first met, Bokuto’s lips slightly glisten from the drool pooling at the sight of the tasty meal. Sakusa pulls his mask down and places it in a plastic bag so that it doesn’t get messy from the food. Once all of the food is set on the table, you and Osamu stand off to the side to give the guys some space as they eat. However, before anyone could take a bite, Atsumu stands up from his chair.

“Alright, guys! Before we start eating, we gotta remember why we’re here! Captain and the other guys were a bit busy, so they couldn’t make it tonight, but it’s important that we do this today!” The blonde pats Hinata on the head. “Welcome to MSBY Black Jackals, Shoyo-kun!”

Bokuto lets out a loud whistle. “WOO! Welcome to the team, Hinata!!”

Sakusa just nods his head at his new teammate, the usual frown he sports is now absent from his face. If you squint hard enough, there’s a miniscule curve at the corner of his mouth.

“But, that’s not all!” Atsumu remains standing as he dumps the rest of his speech on everyone in the room. He points at the two-tone haired male sitting in front of him. “Bo-kun! The bag, please!”

Bokuto snaps his fingers as if he just remembered something. The owlish man shuffles through his gym bag and produces a heavy plastic bag. You can hear the clinking of glass as he raises it higher. “I’ve got the good stuff!”

Atsumu looks ecstatic. “Can’t have a celebration without a little bit of alcohol to spice it up!”

Slightly concerned, you look up to Osamu to gauge his reaction towards the introduction of alcohol. He looks a bit uneasy, but just lets out his third sigh of the night. “Just don’t break anything, or I will make sure none of you make it out alive from this building.”

Completely ignoring the threatening tone, Atsumu and Bokuto start popping open bottles of who-knows-what. Sakusa just opts for a glass of water since he has no intentions of partaking in the silly shenanigans between the two most eccentric volleyball players. Hinata has no choice but to comply as Atsumu pours his glass to the brim. Eventually all the guys start to dig into their food as well.

With nothing else left to help them with, you and Osamu get back to cleaning the other areas. It only takes about 15-20 minutes to wipe down everything and gather the trash. You step into the back room to get everything together so that you’re prepared to leave whenever the group outside finishes their meal. You smile as you hear muffled laughter and loud conversations through the closed door. Your boss had let you know that he’ll clean up after them, but you didn’t have the heart to make him do all of that work himself.

You step out to the main room to have an idea of where everyone’s at with their food but stop in your tracks as you witness a significantly more irritated Osamu watching the table of four with a twitching eye behind the counter. You’re about to ask what’s wrong, but you can pretty much guess what the problem might be.

The table is littered with empty alcohol bottles and half-full glass cups. Surprisingly, there isn’t much of a mess in terms of leftover food, but it doesn’t make up the fact that there are three very drunk men hovering over the table.

Atsumu’s upper body is entirely flushed pink from the bottom of his neck to the tips of his ears, and he’s fanning his face with the top of his shirt. Hinata practically has flowers oozing off of his figure as he sways back and forth next to the blonde, a permanent carefree smile plastered on his face next to his red cheeks. Although not as obvious as the other two, Sakusa has a glossy shine to his eyes above his own pink cheeks and hiccups occasionally in his seat, focusing his eyes on a tiny speck on the table. Not sure whether to be surprised or not, your eyes move onto Bokuto, who was completely sober. He heartedly laughs at the state of his drunk friends, enjoying every moment.

“I thought Sakusa-san wasn’t going to drink?” You ask Osamu.

Your boss just shakes his head. “‘Tsumu switched his glass when he went to the bathroom and he didn’t notice until it was too late.”

You’re not sure whether you want to pray for the blonde’s safety once Sakusa is in his right mind, or if you wanna ask Hinata to record the poor man’s fate in the hands of an angry, hungover Sakusa.

Osamu just turns around with heavy steps and makes his way to the back room, probably to do the same thing you went to the back room for a couple minutes ago. You look back to the table when you hear a chair scraping against the floor. Atsumu seems to have moved his chair right next to Sakusa because before you knew it, he was leaning against the tall spiker with his hands in the air.

“Omi-Omi! Can I borrow your sanitizer? My hands got dirty!” Wrong choice of words.

Sakusa immediately shoves his elbow backwards and it slams right into Atsumu’s chest, forcing his breath right out of him. The setter doubles over clutching his chest, while Sakusa simply pulls out his sanitizer and applies it to wherever he has come in contact with the man next to him. It seems like drunk Sakusa is a bit more violent about his way of rejecting people.

Remembering how tired your boss looked before he left the room, you felt the need to try and intervene to encourage the group to start thinking about calling it a day. As you approach, the first person to notice you was Hinata. As soon as he realizes who you are, his eyes light up as if he was a child that just received a birthday gift.

“(Name)-san!”

You don’t even get the chance to make it halfway to the table when the boy jumps up from his chair and stalks over to where you are. Without warning, Hinata throws his arms over your shorter figure and smothers you with another hug. It takes all of your mental fortitude to not think about how muscular his arms feel around your shoulders or how strong his grip is on your back. He was definitely not this fit the last time you saw him.

“You’re awfully affectionate today, Sho-kun.”

“Hehe~ I’m just glad to see you, (Name)-san!” Hinata starts shuffling around a bit until his cheek is able to nuzzle with yours. You giggle at how adorable he is.

Although you appreciate his affection, Hinata was slowly suffocating you with his tight embrace. You signal to the only other sober person in the room for help. Bokuto continues to laugh at everything going around him but complies and makes his way over to the two of you before peeling off the orange haired male from your body. Luckily, Hinata was too drunk to actually keep his grip on you and just fell into his teammate’s arms.

“Thanks, Bokuto-san.” You’re able to stand up straight again and Bokuto gives you a thumbs up with a wide grin. He takes Hinata back to the table to sit him down and you follow suit. Osamu walked out of the back room at this time and just began tying up two large trash bags next to the sink, not even batting an eyelash in the group’s direction.

You should’ve expected it, but you were still startled when you suddenly felt a heavy arm sling across your shoulder. “So, you come here often, sweetheart?”

You blankly stare at Atsumu’s smug expression as he continues to nestle his arm comfortably around you. His flushed appearance was definitely not helping his attempt at flirting with you. “Come on, there’s no way a goddess like you could resist my divine qualities.”

“Lame.” Osamu was quick to comment on his brother’s cheesy words while walking towards the exit with the two garbage bags in his arms. He stepped outside and closed the door to keep any insects from wandering inside as he took out the trash.

You were about to swat Atsumu’s body away but noticed the deep, dark circles under his eyes and came to the conclusion that he’s probably going to pass out from exhaustion at some point anyways, so you just let him be. His attention span seems to be a lot shorter too since he suddenly let go of you and lunged forward towards Sakusa’s hand sanitizer bottle that was now sitting neatly on top of the table.

Although he’s usually good at completely avoiding Atsumu’s attempts at stealing his things, Sakusa’s reflexes were a bit deterred due to his tipsy condition. Instead of snatching the bottle away from the blonde’s vicinity, Sakusa ended up knocking the bottle to the ground with his own hand.

Luckily, Bokuto was able to stop Atsumu from crashing onto the table headfirst with one arm still holding onto Hinata. Afraid that Sakusa would possibly slap the setter or drag Hinata into the crossfire in a drunken stupor, he pulled Atsumu close by and slung his arm over his two drunk teammates.

Sakusa just let out a disgruntled groan and sent a nasty glare to Atsumu. He stood up to look for the fallen bottle but misjudged where he stepped. Luck decided not to be on his side as the tall spiker placed a foot directly on top of the sanitizer bottle causing his balance to shift. The world tilted in his vision and his body began to succumb to gravity and fall...on top of you.

You tried to stop both of your bodies from losing balance by wrapping your arms around his torso, but your shorter frame was no match for Sakusa’s much bigger body. You can hear shouts of concern coming from the other three guys as the both of you crashed to the floor in a mess of limbs. The air is knocked out of you and you wince at the heavy weight laying on top of you.

During the fall, your eyes shut tight automatically to brace yourself, so it takes a moment for you to reopen them. As soon as your eyelids flutter open, your breath hitches. Sakusa’s face is mere inches from your own and he looks just as stunned as you do. You realize that his thighs are on either side of you and somehow he was able to quickly place a hand under your head to make sure it didn’t come in direct contact with the hard floor after toppling over together. Your heart is beating fast and you can only hope that Sakusa doesn’t notice.

While the two of you are stuck in a brief trance, the rest of the group is just watching in a huddled position. Even they were mostly keeping silent, perhaps anticipating whatever was going to happen next. Hinata's face held a mixture of confusion and wonder, while Atsumu’s expression held obvious annoyance. Bokuto's eyes danced with fascination as his mouth hung loose.

All of a sudden, the front door slid open and everyone’s head snapped towards the entrance. Osamu stood on the other side wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Alright, guys. It’s time to-” He stopped speaking once he took a good look at the scene in front of him. It was a bit difficult to figure out what was going through Osamu’s head because he just held a deadpan expression.

Not liking the bit of tension in the air, you clear your throat. “Um...I could use a little help.”

At your pleading, Osamu steps back inside the shop and grabs Sakusa by the shoulders to slowly take him off of you so that the spiker doesn’t end up falling over again from any sudden movements. You sit up and see that Bokuto had gotten up from his seat to lend you a hand. You take it gratefully.

“I guess now would be a good time to go home,” Bokuto mentions sheepishly. “Do you guys need any help with cleaning?”

Osamu gave Sakusa a glass of water to sober him up a bit then turned to Bokuto. “Just keep an eye on these guys and (Name)-san and I will take care of everything else.”

With that, you and your boss spent the next couple of minutes clearing the area and washing all the used dishes. In the meantime, Bokuto kept an eye on all of the other guys and even called up a taxi to arrive soon. Atsumu and Hinata seemed to have fallen asleep while waiting, and Sakusa just slouched in his chair quietly grumbling about how his sanitizer is undoubtedly contaminated.

Once everything was set, all of you grabbed your things (Osamu shouldering his snoring brother; Bokuto piggybacking a snoozing Hinata) and locked the door to Onigiri Miya. The taxi was already parked in front of the shop, so all that was left was to figure out how everyone was getting home.

“You only called for one taxi?” Osamu questioned.

“Oh yeah, Omi-kun doesn’t want to ride the taxi,” Bokuto replied as he hoisted Hinata’s body in the back seat of the taxi. “I thought we could all just squeeze into the back since most of us are on the way anyways.”

Sakusa, who is slightly more sober than before, took out a new mask from his bag. “I live a couple blocks down, so I’ll just walk.”

“Oh, actually, I live a couple blocks down too, so I was just planning on walking as well,” you respond. “You all have to go in the opposite direction, so it’ll be a hassle to drop me off.”

Osamu’s eyebrows furrow with unease. “It’s pretty late. I don’t think it’s a good idea to walk around in the dark alone at this hour. Where’s your place?”

“Ashita Complex*.”

“Seriously?!” Bokuto suddenly exclaims, startling everyone. “Omi-kun lives there too!”

“No-”

“That’s great,” Osamu interrupts. “You guys can walk together.”

Bokuto’s hair flairs up along with his arms in satisfaction. “Man, I love it when everything works out and everyone’s happy!”

There seemed to be no room for objections by the germaphobe himself, so he just sighs in defeat. The rest of you just say your goodbyes and Osamu finally shoves Atsumu into the back before taking the front passenger seat himself with Bokuto offering to sit in the back with his sleeping teammates. As soon as the taxi is out of sight, you turn around to see that Sakusa had already started walking ahead.

“Hey! Wait up!” You rush to where Sakusa was and eventually match your strides with his.

The taller man doesn’t slow down his pace and just continues forward. He does, however, glance at you from the corner of his eye. “You know, if you live so close by, it would’ve been fine if they dropped you off.”

“And, leave you to walk home by yourself? No way.” You shake your head to emphasize your resolve. “You’re still slightly tipsy, so I feel more comfortable seeing you get to your apartment in one piece.”

“I’m fine.”

“You say that, but then why are you still swaying as you walk?” You point out. “I know you’re not acting like a typical intoxicated person, but your mind is still pretty cloudy, right?”

There was no way to counter that argument because even Sakusa knew that he wasn’t exactly walking straight since he wasn’t completely sober. “Then, walk at least six feet behind me.”

You pout a bit at his pettiness. The only way to fight fire is with fire. “Yeah? But, what if you lose your balance and bump into a street light that hundreds of people have probably touched throughout the day?”

Silence. You know you’ve won this time, but you still try to be a bit respectful and stand at least an arm’s length away.

The rest of the walk is fairly quiet, only the sounds of your footsteps echoing across the empty streets. You didn’t mind, though, since you were able to just enjoy the cool night air that refreshed your tired mind. Once you reached the apartment complex, Sakusa stepped back as you scanned your ID card and opened the door. You figured he just didn’t want to touch anything, but didn’t say anything since you were just too tired to question him.

The only elevator in the building was under maintenance, so the two of you had to take the stairs for today.

“What floor are you?” You ask.

“3rd.”

“Oh, you live on the floor right below me.” You were a bit surprised at how you haven’t run into him at all since you’ve lived in this apartment for a while. To be honest, it’s probably because he doesn’t go out much unless it’s for volleyball.

As the two of you step onto the 3rd floor, Sakusa starts heading for his apartment door. You didn’t really expect anything from him, so you were taken aback when Sakusa stopped in his tracks to look at you briefly.

“Thanks.”

A small smile forms on your lips at Sakusa’s simple gesture. “Good night, Sakusa-san.”

The said man just raises a hand over his shoulder without looking back and takes out his keys with his other arm. You standby to make sure he goes in safely and hear the lock click. Satisfied, you climb the rest of the stairs to your floor and make your way to your own apartment.

As soon as you're inside, you shove off your shoes and make a beeline for the couch. Taking in a deep breath, you eventually exhale willing your exhaustion to leave your body as well. It probably won’t do you any good to fall asleep in your uniform, so you decide to change into more comfortable clothing and prepare for bed.

Clothed in your favorite gym shorts and oversized T-shirt, you hop into bed. Your eyelids are practically closing in on themselves as you scroll through your phone one last time. Despite your initial tiredness, your eyes shoot open when you catch a glimpse of a certain YouTube video.

“Kodzuken posted a video today!” You squeal out loud. There’s no way you can sleep without watching it now. Kodzuken was your favorite Youtuber, and you’ve never missed a single one of his videos. You even went as far as buying merchandise from his athletic wear company, hence the Bouncing Ball shorts and shirt you were currently wearing as your pajamas.

If you ever met him in person, you honestly don’t know how you’d react. You’ve heard that he used to play volleyball in high school, so maybe with all the volleyball players you’ve been coming across, fate will find its way to you.

But, a girl could only dream.

Leftovers:

Bright light glares through the blinds of Sakusa’s room to indicate that the sun has already risen quite a bit. A loud doorbell rings through the apartment causing Sakusa to stir. The man opens one eye and groans at the obnoxious headache that was already set to ruin his morning. His mouth is incredibly dry, and he doesn’t feel that he’s gotten nearly enough sleep last night. Sakusa was most definitely feeling the symptoms of a mild hangover.

“I’m going to kill that blonde gremlin.”

With much reluctance, the tall man drags his body to a standing position. He makes the bed as neat as possible before walking out of his room towards the front door. Sakusa makes the effort to look through the peephole to see if he could make out the person who decided to disturb him from the comforts of his bed but is confused when he can’t see anyone outside.

Normally, he would just walk away and assume it’s just someone who rang the wrong doorbell (it’s happened multiple times before), but there’s a nagging feeling at the back of his brain to just open the door. Sakusa clicked the lock loose and opened the door wide enough for him to peek outside. A slight shuffling noise startled him and when he looked down he saw a plastic bag hooked onto the door handle.

A little skeptical, Sakusa grabs two disposable gloves from the box he placed next to the entrance of his home and slides them onto his hands. He has no idea where this bag has been, so he’s not taking any chances in coming in contact with potential germs.

Shutting his door closed with his leg, Sakusa makes his way over to his kitchen countertop and places the bag on top of it. He considers just throwing it out, but notices a pink slip of paper at the top of the contents inside. Curiously, he pulls it out and realizes that it’s a written note. He doesn’t recognize the handwriting, but skims through to find any hints of the sender, and surely enough, he sees your name printed in the second sentence.

Hey, Sakusa-san! It’s (Surname) (Name). I’m on my way to work, so I thought I’d just drop this off really quick. You drank quite a bit, so I made you some soup to counter the hangover. Don’t worry! I thoroughly washed my hands and put on gloves before making it! Feel free to throw it out if it makes you uncomfortable. I also put in an extra sanitizer since I know you were upset about the one yesterday. Have a nice day at practice!

Sakusa just stares blankly at the piece of paper for a couple seconds before putting it down and analyzing the contents in the plastic bag. Just like you said, there’s a large blue thermos and a travel-size sanitizer bottle that looks almost identical to the one he dropped yesterday just in a different color. If he were to be completely honest, he probably has the same bottle somewhere in his cleaning supply shelf, but you can never have too many sanitizers. As he took out both items, his nose caught the familiar scent of disinfectant. You must’ve wiped down everything before placing it in the bag.

The stoic man stares at the thermos and sanitizer in silence. After a couple more moments, he simply turns towards his stove and starts heating up the soup.

Ashita Complex: I made it up :D (If you’re curious, ashita means ‘tomorrow’ in Japanese)

***Please do not succumb to peer pressure when drinking, folks! Drink safe!

A/N: the #1 Cockblock Award goes to...Miya Osamu, everyone! Hehe, just kidding~ I also added a ‘Leftovers’ part to this chapter as sort of an ‘extra’ or an ‘omake’! I don’t know how often I’ll add these, but I really wanted to write this one, so I hope you enjoyed it too!

#haikyuu #onigiri miya #onigiri miya tidbits #secretpeachtea #osamu #msby #atsumu #sakusa #hinata #bokuto

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horansqueen · 4 years ago

Text

You & Me : chapter 43

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26 || CHAPTER 27 || CHAPTER 28 || CHAPTER 29 || CHAPTER 30 || CHAPTER 31 || CHAPTER 32 || CHAPTER 33 || CHAPTER 34|| CHAPTER 35 || CHAPTER 36 || CHAPTER 37 || CHAPTER 38 || CHAPTER 39 || CHAPTER 40 || CHAPTER 41 || CHAPTER 42

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his -4.5k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

READ AM CONVERSATIONS AGAIN ON WATTPAD HERE

- notes: wow, it took a while didnt it? i have a hard time writing this story for a few specific reasons and thats why it takes me longer. i also need to plan the ending of this and its not easy because im scared to forget something. but i hope you enjoy this chapter! thanks so much for still reading this story!!!

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : its late and i hope i dont forget any! i didnt add everything from the 2nd request in my chapter tho. i also promise more requests in the next chapter! its all planned so thank you!

TAKE A LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS HERE

Chapter 43 : His chapter

NIALL

June 25th, 2018

"Okay, move slightly on the right." I heard her, doing what she told me cautiously. "Now watch out, there's a step."

"Big or small?"

"Uhm, medium" she replied after thinking about it.

"Gee Liv, thanks!" I replied sarcastically before I carefully tried to put my foot on the step.

She guided me with difficulty until the car and I packed her last few boxes in the trunk. We sat in the car and I started it, feeling her gaze on me but I tried to ignore it until I felt her hand on my thigh. I suddenly relaxed and my eyes met hers for half a second before going back on the road.

"You should have let me help you." she pointed out with a soft voice. "I can carry more than one box, you know."

The left corner of my lips raised gently and I glanced at her again before stopping at a red light and turning my head completely her way. Her eyebrows raised and I sent her a small smile, shaking my head.

"I want you to let me take care of you." I admitted, bending closer to press my lips gently against hers in a quick kiss. "Besides, an old lady like you shouldn't carry heavy things."

With a chuckle, she slapped my arm gently as I started laughing and started driving again. It was already mid june and we had been working on her moving in with me for about a week. Most things were actually bought by Louis so all the furniture stayed there but it took us a while to pack all her stuff and bring the boxes to my house. I mean, our house.

"I'm only two years older than you!" she argued, making me laugh even more. "Do I have to call you 'kiddo'?"

"Please, I'm a man." I let out with a frown, half-joking. "You know it, you've seen me naked."

"Oh how my life has changed since then." she replied wih a chuckle, making me smile too.

We brought her stuff to our room and started unpacking together after I put music on. It invaded the house so loudly that the neighbours probably heard since we had opened the windows. It was a warm saturday afternoon and I still had a little bit more than a week off. I knew we were going to miss each other since I was about to leave for three months (even if i was going to be back here at some point in august for a few concerts) but we didn't talk about it much, as if it would make things worst.

I kept glancing at her from time to time as I was putting her stuff in my closet and my lips curled when I noticed she was dancing while putting her clothes in her dresser. It was nothing new. She had always been like that but somehow, at this exact moment, it made me realize how perfect this moment was. Loud music, finally sharing a house with the woman I loved, watching my girlfriend dance and sing happily close to me with a promise ring hidden in my underwear drawer. That whole scenario happening right in front of me felt like the accomplishment of something very very important and even if I couldn't define exactly what, I tried to remember this in my brain like the movie of a memory I wanted to watch over and over again until i'd be on my death bed. The smallest details seemed important and when she moved a lock of hair that had stuck on her lips behind her ear, I held my breath. Could I write a song about this?

She turned around and our eyes met and suddenly, her lips curled into a fond smile. I loved when she looked at me like that. I was used to it, because she's looked at me like that for as long as I could remember, but it's only now, the second time we're dating, that I realized what it meant and how important it was.

"Are you gonna help me or are you just going to stare at me while I do all the work?"

I chuckled and rolled my eyes before shaking my head and grabbing an other box. It was heavy and when I opened it, I saw a bunch of books, the first one on the top being the one she was reading at the moment. I knew because sometimes we'd just sit together in the living room in silence. She'd read and sometimes i would too, or id end up writing, or playing guitar. Just being in the same room was enough sometimes and I liked it. I grabbed the book and turned it around to read the summary but something else caught my attention and I frowned. Something was sticking out of the book and I pulled on it slightly only to see my face and hers on a few pictures. It came from the photobooth and if my memory served me right, it was from the first time we dated. I pulled on it more to see all the pictures and finally just opened the book so she wouldn't lose her page and let my eyes roam on the older pictures of us. I remembered how I felt, but I was well aware it was not comparable to the feelings I had now.

"Can't believe you kept this."

My eyes didn't move from the pictures but I felt her stop moving and finally get closer to me. I sat on my bed and I felt her sit next to me in silence until I finally looked up in her eyes.

"You have no idea of all the things I kept." she admitted and I could swear her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. "I kept a lot of souvenirs of you, Niall."

My smile curled a bit and she chuckled. "Really?"

"Oh don't look at me like that, it's not like I built a shrine for you or anything." she just rolled her eyes. "But your friendship and your love... yea, it's important for me."

I ran my thumb gently on the pictures for a few more minutes and finally put them back in the book before closing it. I stared at it until Liv grabbed my hand and I squeezed her fingers, looking up at her and sending her a smile.

"You know we need to christen the rooms." This time, she let out a loud laughter and it made my lips curl. "It's true!"

"It only applies to new places, Niall!" she laughed more. "We've already had sex pretty much in all the rooms of this house, and that says a lot!"

"Are you sure?" I asked, raising my eyebrows before she nodded. "All the bathrooms? Bedrooms?" She nodded again and I raised my nose up with a low groan, making her laugh again. "There must be somewhere we didn't fuck!"

"On the dryer."

"What?" I frowned.

"We never fucked on your dryer." she repeated with an amused smile, her head tilted. "We fucked in the showers, kitchen's table, kitchen's counter, on the couch, on the floor of the living room, in all the beds, on all the bedroom floors, in the music room and against that piano.. One time you even grabbed me when I got out of the shower to fuck me against the wall in the hall."

The left corner of my lips curled as the memory came back to my head and I raised my eyebrows. "Oh yea, I remember."

"But I don't remember fucking on the dryer."

My eyes roamed on her and I licked my lips. "We can do that now."

"Join me in 5 minutes?"

I raised my eyebrows in surprise when she suddenly got up and left. My fingers gripped the book in my hands tighter and I finally put it on the bed before turning my eyes to the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was the longest 5 minutes of my life and if I wanted to be honest, I only waited 3 and a half anyway.

I heard the dryer's noise and frowned a bit when I realized she had started it and when I got there, she was sitting on it and I noticed the matching black and silk panties and bra she was wearing. Her legs were hanging down the dryer and she was holding herself with her hands slightly behind her body, her dark hair falling near her back, and I stopped as soon as our eyes met.

"When did you put this on?"

"I wore them all day." she admitted with a smirk before chuckling when my face changed. "I mean, I wanted to show you but we were sort of busy."

I took a few steps closer slowly and put my palms on her thighs, sliding my hands up very slowly on her soft skin.

"Spread your legs, petal." I whispered as she bit her bottom lip but did as I asked.

"I wasn't sure if it actually looked good on me." she admitted low and I shook my head quickly.

"Oh shut up, darling, this makes me so fucking hard." To prove my point, I turned my hips a bit and pressed my hard cock through my pants against her naked thigh. "See?"

I ran my hands up to her breasts, touching them before slipping one of my hands under it to run the tip of two of my fingers on her nipple. "I'm so torn right now. I want to rip it off of you, but watching them on you is so fucking hot."

"Just move my panties aside and fuck me."

Her eyes seemed to sparkle but her expression was needy and I just licked my lips, bringing my hands down to my jeans and unzipping them as I kept staring at her.

"Such a needy little slut." I let out in a low tone. "Tell me how bad you want my cock. Beg me."

Her eyes never leaving mine, she brought her feet on the dryer, exposing her panties even more to me and slowly, I took my cock out and started stroking it. I could feel the dryer getting warmer and the way she seemed to shake over it made me want her even more.

"Fuck, Niall, I want you so bad. I need you deep inside me." she whimpered and licked her lips. "Please, Niall, I need your cock, please i'm begging you, fuck me."

I jerked off harder, making sure the tip of my dick rubbed against her pussy over her panties, and she whimpered and bit her bottom lip harder.

"Move your panties, pet. Show me your pretty little cunt."

She did as I asked and my eyes dropped between her legs as I moved even closer, close enough for the tip of my cock to push inside her. I groaned low and she let out a short whimper as I felt her throb around me.

"Deeper." she breathed out. "Fill me."

Quickly, I pushed myself inside her until I was balls deep and she let out a moan, her head falling back slightly and her eyes fluttering.

"Like this petal? How does my cock feel?"

She squirmed slightly and with difficulty but I watched her shake glancing a few times down to watch her grind despite herself on my dick. The feeling was amazing and I groaned louder when I felt her clench around me.

"So good, so fucking good." she whimpered again.

"You're so fucking wet and horny I just want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock until you cum all over it, baby girl." I let out without thinking. "How about you do that?"

I moved as close as I could and she ground on me for a few minutes. I loved the way she moved, all her facial expressions and the way her moans sounded but after a while, I couldn't take it anymore and grabbed her waist, my fingers sinking in her skin as I pulled her against me in motion with my thrusts.

"Fuck, i'm gonna cum." I just said still going hard.

I didn't know if it was because of my words or if she had been holding it for a while but she started shaking even harder against me as she came, my name escaping her lips in incredible moans and bringing me to my own orgasm. I shut my eyes tight, pushing myself so hard against her to make sure I went as deep as I could, and when I got down from my high, I leaned my forehead against hers, eyes still closed, as we both panted with parted lips.

"This is so much better." I whispered, moving a bit to reach her lips with mine.

"Better than what?" she asked in a breath as I kissed her gently again.

"Better than anything. Better than anyone." I confessed. "Better than sex without feelings."

It took her about a minute to talk but her words made me open my eyes suddenly.

"Are you in love with me, Niall?"

I pulled away to look in her eyes and frowned for a few seconds before shaking my head. I knew she was probably asking me simply because she wanted to hear it but I couldn't help but fear that she doubted it.

"Yes. I am in love with you, Olivia." I affirmed. "It will never change. I'll always be in love with you, for as long as I live, and maybe even after."

---

June 29th, 2018

I was a bit sad she had insisted on inviting Louis and Eleanor on her birthday but I went along with it because it was her day and I loved her. She also had asked for nothing big, just a movie and games night with our friends, and somehow, I was down with that. Normally, I'd want to celebrate in a bar with many more friends but we were about to be separated for a while and I was not in the mood to celebrate that. I was just grateful I could spend her birth day with her.

"Okay, Liv, you sit next to me. Your boyfriend can sit next to El." I heard Louis say as I walked back in the living room with two bowls of popcorn.

"Excuse me? I pretty much intend on watching this movie cuddling my girlfriend, thank you very much!" I argued with a frown as I stood in the middle of the living room.

"If we do that we'll just spend an hour and a half making out!" Louis explained with round eyes. "At least you two will! You're both horny animals!"

"It's not like we were gonna fuck in front of you." I pointed out, rolling my eyes before sitting next to Eleanor who just laughed.

"Don't be a jealous boyfriend, Niall. Liv was my roommate before being your girlfriend again and I'm very sad that I can't wake her up by literally jumping in her bed at 6 in the morning anymore!" he joked with a chuckle before turning to my girlfriend. "Bet you miss it too!"

"6 in the morning?" I repeated with a frown again. "You never wake up so early."

"He did when he had meetings for his album." Olivia pointed out. "As you already know, 'pain in the ass' is in his DNA."

I laughed and she did too but the way she looked at me made me smile. Louis placed his arm on the back of the couch, near her shoulders, and I groaned low at sight. It's not that I wanted to read too much into this, but it was bothering me a lot and it was tough to hide. I was not the type to be jealous and I knew Olivia loved me, but every time I saw them near each other, I couldn't help but remember that they fucked multiple times and that nothing could ever erase that.

What took me out of my thoughts was something hitting my nose and the sweet laughter of my girlfriend. I shook my head slightly and sent her a smile as she sent me more popcorn and I grabbed some from my own bowl before throwing it at her, too. She laughed louder and we kept on throwing popcorn at each other until Louis groaned and stopped the movie. It was crazy how easily Louis could make himself home. He was using my remote for my tv, was sitting on my favorite spot on the couch, cuddling with my girlfriend.

"Fine! Fine I get it!" Louis gave in, raising his hand up in defeat. "You guys can't stay too far away from each other for too long. It's sad but it is what it is!"

He practically jumped off the couch and walked up to me. After a quick head movement, I sent him a smile and got up to. I let myself fall next to Liv and immediately, she cuddled my side like a magnet, making me smile more. I had no idea why I was insecure when it came to Louis, but she proved over and over again that I had no reason to be. I wrapped my arm around her to pull her closer and we finished the movie before grabbing a few beers and talking. It was almost 3 in the morning when Louis and El left and I watched as Liv got up, yawned and stretched.

"I'm so tired, let's go to bed, yea?"

"We really should clean first." I pointed out, grabbing a few bottles.

I was about to bring them to the kitchen but she stopped me with a grimace and a groan. "Niall, we need to sleep. Come onnnn, we can do that tomorrow."

I stared at her and sighed, not really sure I liked the idea but I finally nodded and followed her to the room as she held my hand and pulled me with her. We fell asleep quickly but she did before me and for some reason, I enjoyed watching her snore lightly, her lips parted, as I held her close to me. These days, we fell asleep holding each other face to face and it was very different from our usual spooning. Still, I liked it but when I woke up, she was on the other side of the bed, her legs were over mine, and I smiled at how much she had moved.

I got up, put sweatpants on and made coffee before drinking a cup as I looked at the mess in the living room and the kitchen. She joined me about half an hour later, entering the kitchen as she yawned. It made me chuckle but I liked the mess of her hair and her lazy smile. I wanted that every single morning of my life.

"Slept well?"

"Yes but not enough." she just shrugged with an other yawn.

I poured her coffee in her favorite mug and we both drank in silence, leaned against the counter. After I was done, I put my cup in the sink and without turning back to look at her, I sighed.

"We need to clean now."

"Mm, I just woke up. We can do that later in the afternoon." she just shrugged.

"Liv, we need to clean now. That's what happens when we postpone these kind of things. It'll never be fun but doing it now means we can do something else after."

She stared at me a few seconds and sighed, letting her head fall back on her shoulders. I didn't want to argue with her, and I knew how messy she was, but she also knew I was the opposite and that leaving everything as is the night before had been annoying to me.

"Well I don't want to do it now."

I didn't expect that answer and took a step back as my eyebrows raised.

"Why are you being like that?"

"Why are you being like that?" she repeated. "This can wait! I can't believe we're arguing over that!"

"Olivia, please! We left this mess last night and we need to clean!"

"You knew how i was before I started living here, it's nothing new!" she let out a bit roughly.

"And you know how I was too!" I argued before she brought her hands to her face and sighed. "You need to make efforts, okay? I am!"

My voice was a bit too loud and I knew it but I was getting pissed. I couldn't believe we were arguing over something like that. After all we had been through, I didn't want to accept that something so silly could be what would end us.

"I just... I need a shower."

I left without waiting for her answer and stayed a bit too long under the hot stream but when I got out of the bathroom with clean clothes, my lips curled at the sight. She had cleaned a good part of the living room and was now working on filling the dishwasher. I walked up to her and wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, leaning my chin on her shoulder.

"Thank you." I whispered, leaving a few kisses on her neck and she finally turned in my arms to look in my eyes.

"I'm sorry."she sighed and licked her lips. "I'll make efforts, I promise."

We finished cleaning and ended up sitting at the table with an other cup of coffee and eggs. The problem was, I couldn't stop thinking that I was leaving in a few days and it bothered me. I wanted us to discuss it but at the same time, I was not sure she wanted to talk about it. I knew that she thought mentioning things out loud made them more real or concrete but ignoring them and pretending the problems weren't there wouldn't make them disappear.

"It's gonna be tough, you know. We'll be away from each other for quite a while."

It took her a few seconds to answer as she seemed focused on her coffee but after a while, she breathed in and sighed.

"I know it won't be easy, Niall, but I also know that it will never be as hard as it was without you for a whole year. So yea, I think we can get through this and come out stronger." she said in a calm way before looking up in my eyes. "I hate being away from you but that won't change my love for you, not even just a little."

I reached for her hand on the table and squeezed her fingers before sending her a small smile. "It won't change mine either. And you're right, that year without you was the worse I've ever been through."

"It's... different." she told cautiously, looking up at me and noticing my questioning look. "You spent that year without me because you decided it, it was your choice. You did it for a reason and you wanted to be alone to live things you clearly thought you couldn't live with me. But me... I suffered through it. You broke up with me, broke my heart... I lost my best friend and the love of my life at the same time, you know? We didn't live that year the same way."

I felt my heart thump hard in my chest and I just nodded very slightly, as we stared at each other.

"You know, Niall... you left me with nothing." she said and I could swear I heard her voice crack. "I tried to find someone else, to find what I was missing from someone else, but I never really found it because what I was missing was you." Once again, she breathed in and sighed. "I know it's not easy but maybe you should try to put yourself in my shoes and... try to understand how I feel, you know? How I felt all those months."

I remembered that she told me it was tough for her but I never really understood how hard it had been until I found out she had literally tried to kill herself. Still, I felt like I couldn't really know the feeling and never would be able to. I remained silent as her words kept running in my head and finally held my breath. I couldn't believe I was thinking about writing a song in such a deep moment but I was and I just shook my head.

"You're right, Liv." I admitted, reaching for her other hand and squeezing both of them tight. "I'll try to understand how you felt in that year we were apart, after I broke you. It's hard to imagine but, I know I've hurt you more than I ever hurt anyone else, and I'll listen to everything you have to say about it."

She sent me a fond smile and nodded. "I can't really put it in the past." she added low. "Not because I don't want to, but because I feel like it's part of our story. I thought I knew who you were, I thought you'd never leave. I mean, we've known each other for decades... I thought you would never break my heart. But it was hard to accept, you know? That I didn't know you as well as I thought I did. I felt like... you ripped my heart out. Like you stole something from me that I could never get back without really knowing what it was. And I wanted it back. The worst was.. I still wanted to be with you. If you had came back I would have said yes in a heartbeat. I was always thinking of you, no matter who I was with, and yes, it includes Louis."

I stared at her, blinking a few times but still remained silent. I didn't want to let go of her hands and I also didn't want to talk. I thought it was just time to listen.

"I just... I went in bars and clubs to change my mind, I tried to date other people, I tried to drink my pain away... I just wanted to get over you and nothing worked, because I had nothing left." She paused again and shrugged. "I learned that making you the center of my life was not a good idea but it was something I was used to, I did it since I was a kid. Now I don't want to do things for you, Niall. I want to do things for us, and I want you to do the same. It's a team work. I mean, it's us against the world, right? That's what we said?"

I sent her a bigger smile and nodded. "It is. You and me."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan story #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan writing #1dff #my fanfics #yam

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cicinicole-14 · 4 years ago

Note

damn okay I have a glass of wine, some chocolate and many many tissues at the ready. Part 5 here we come

welp, good luck! the shitty tiktok I posted earlier went with this part and the last one. anyway. hope u enjoy!

Part Five

The next moments pass by her in a blur.

She vaguely remembers them through a tear-filled haze.

Like an out of body experience she’s watching somebody else go through.

She knows Meredith somehow ushers her into the hospital as Alex yells for any OB, shocking most of the staff of his presence.

She remembers Carina DeLuca telling her to lie back and for some reason the cold gel just feels numb on her abdomen.

She hears ringing in her ears and it makes her think all of this is a fluke. That it’s the baby’s heartbeat again and it’s fine.

But the ringing is just inside her head.

She can’t bear to look at anyone while Carina is maneuvering the heart doppler around her stomach. She can’t look at Meredith, who’s gripping her hand. She refuses to look at Alex standing in the corner of the room.

She looks up, staring at the bright, white lights. They’re starting to burn her eyes. Mixing with the stinging tears that are welling in her eyes. Everything is a blur.

And then Carina is looking at her, sorrow filling her face, and she knows.

“I was unable to find a fetal heart rate.”

The words ring in her ears and she pulls herself up, not bothering to wipe the gel off of her stomach before standing up on shaking legs. She feels like she looks like a baby deer on ice but she doesn’t care in the slightest. She’s shaking, but she needs to get out of here. She needs to leave.

“T-Take me home.” She whispers. Her voice is hoarse and cracking.

Both Meredith and Alex look up at her expectantly, not catching what she said.

“Take me home.” She says again, more adamantly.

“Carina is she okay––” Meredith doesn’t get to finish asking her question.

“Take me home!” This time it comes out as a scream.

And with that, she walks out.

The ride back to the loft is quiet.

Meredith drives. Alex in the backseat. Jo continuously stares out the window.

It’s hazy out. Mirroring how she feels in this exact moment. She’s not crying just yet, it’s not raining just yet, but she knows it’s coming.

She stumbles her way up the steps to the loft and ignores whatever Alex tries saying to her. She ignores the conversation he and Meredith start having as she heads straight to the bathroom and turns on the water.

Steam envelops the tiny bathroom, instantly. Jo doesn’t even bother shedding her clothes before stepping right under the scalding stream.

It’s hot, but it’s not hot enough. It’s not hot enough to wash away the pain from today. The pain of losing the only good thing in her life at that very moment.

A sob wracks through her body, shaking her. She stumbles back against the shower wall and slides down, her knees bent into her chest as the stream showers overhead.

Her hand rests on her stomach, empty and lifeless, much like how she feels in the exact moment.

The water eventually runs cold and by that time, Alex is opening the door to their––her bathroom. He crouches down, pulling off her soaked clothes and leaving them in a heap in the shower before turning off the stream.

She’s shivering and he wraps her in a towel, helping her stand up and guiding her to the bed.

She lies down, facing away from him and pulling the duvet over her shoulder.

He shuffles over to the other side of the bed, knowing that whatever he did next would either make her mad or have her ignore him nonetheless. But he pulls back the duvet anyhow, and sinks down onto the mattress, facing her.

Jo doesn’t know what he’s even doing here. She doesn’t know why he’s lying in her bed, next to her, staring at her, but she can’t seem to care either. She’s numb and it’s all she feels in this very moment.

“Why are you here?” She finally manages amongst the thoughts swimming in her head.

Alex’s brows furrow in confusion. “You–You just lost our baby and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He says confused.

“No, I mean why are you in Seattle?” She says frustratingly. “Go home Alex, go back to your kids and Izzie. We don––I don’t need you here anymore, now. There’s nothing here for you.”

He reaches down for her hand but she pulls back, turning away from him, pulling the duvet with her.

Alex swallows hard, and he knows it’s a calculated risk, but he says his next words carefully, but sternly. “You’re here, Jo.”

He’s not sure if the statement, the confession, was a good move or not, but it gets her to turn back around and face him, yet a scowl still dons her face.

“You left.”

“I know.”

“No, Alex, you left. You left me, you left Seattle. You left your job, your life, your home, without a single word. You lied to me. You didn’t answer. You left us and never looked back for some notion with your ex-wife and children, for some chance to play happy little family. I can’t do that again. I won’t.”

He knows she’s right. He knows she doesn’t deserve that. But he made a mistake.

“You made a vow, Alex. For better or worse, and you broke that. You broke me. You made me so happy and then you left and wrecked me so bad and I can’t do that again. I don’t know if I’m going to get over that, but I know I’ll never be able to do it again. You were it for me, and you ruined that. There wasn’t ever going to be anyone else for me, Alex, because of how bad you wrecked me. And now, on top of this all, I lost our baby.”

Alex doesn’t know what exactly to say. He knows he wrecked her. He knows she’s in pain. He knows she’s hurting and grieving for the baby they lost. He knows he messed everything up so completely, that Jo won’t ever be the same again. And he hates himself to know that he’s the reason why she is broken now.

The silence is deafening, and he doesn’t think he can take much more of it. He knows he messed up and he knows he would spend every single day for the rest of his life trying to fix them, trying to show Jo how sorry he is for his mistake. He sits up quietly, pulling the duvet back and standing up.

“I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about anymore. It’s done, Alex.”

He swallows and knows there’s no other way to say this other than ripping the bandaid right off. “I’m moving back to Seattle. I had already made up my mind before I had even gotten your text about the baby.” He starts out. He sees her demeanor shift slightly, but he still isn’t sure how she’s going to take it. “I’ve been fighting Izzie for custody of the kids, since. Because I left, without looking back, without thinking about anyone but myself and the kids when I should’ve been thinking more clearly. I’m not in love with Izzie. I haven’t been in a real long time. Im in love with you, Jo, my wife. And I’m sorry I messed up. I know nothing I do will ever fix us, but I’d rather see you in the halls at the hospital once in a while, than know that you’re halfway across the country.”

Jo takes a shaky breath. “I want to forgive you, so badly, Alex, but you wrecked me. You tore down every single wall I had and let yourself in and just left me completely broken. So I don’t know how to ever begin to forgive you. And then to top it off, the stress of you being back here caused me to lose the only happiness I had left between us. I lost our baby!” She ends up screaming the last part at him as the hot tears roll down her face.

Alex isn’t sure how to comfort her but he watches as she slowly sits up on the bed.

“I’m sorry. I know you’ve lost this baby too.”

“Jo, no.” He reassures her. “This isn’t your fault. If anything, it definitely is mine, but you know damn well miscarriages just happen sometimes.”

She nods her head and wipes her cheeks but the tears continue to fall. “That’s not what it feels like Alex. I feel like I’m drowning here. I have my research with Bailey and my surgeries, but that’s it. This baby was my one last hope for happiness.”

“Jo, you’ll have happiness again. I promise. I know you will. Even if I have to spend every day trying to make you happy. I’ll do it. You’ll be happy again.”

Jo huffs in disbelief, shaking her head as she runs her hand through her hair. “It’s just not fair!” She shouts before wincing, realizing the loud noise wasn’t pleasant. She squeezes her eyes shut and presses the heel of her palms to her temples.

Alex reaches over, carefully, and lays a hand on Jo’s knee, causing her to look up at him finally. “You need a break.” He says softly. “You need to escape. Come to Kansas with me while I fight for custody of my kids. Just to escape for a little while.”

Jo laughs.

“I’m serious.” He states. “You need to take your mind off everything. What better way to do that than in the middle of nowhere, Kansas?”

Jo looks down at the hand on her knee. “Alex, you can’t just walk back into my life and expect me to let you in again. This isn’t easy for me. You were my everything, and you broke me. I can’t just act like that didn’t happen and go with you to Kansas for god knows how long. I have a job here. I have friends. I don’t have anyone there. I can’t just go.”

Alex nods in understanding. “I just thought it would do you good to get out of Seattle for a while.”

“Not…not with you.” She says softly, looking away from him. It hurt even now to turn him down.

“Well, my flight doesn’t leave until Sunday.”

Jo shakes her head. “Alex, I don’t know how I can forgive you. I really don’t care if you stay there or come back to Seattle. We’re over.” She speaks softly, as if she didn’t want to be heard so it wouldn’t really happen.

“I know.” Alex responds. “I’m just leaving the option open for you.” He says, finally getting up and heading towards the door.

Jo follows him, watching as he crosses the threshold of the doorway and she pulls it halfway shut as he looks back at her. “Bye, Alex.” She says softly.

He just nods, turning and walking away.

ngl, this was one of my fave parts to write so far actually. it was an add on part that I didnt write originally but realized this was what the fic was missing before :)

#jolex fic #jolex #cici writes #tell the world im coming home

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peaky-shelby · 5 years ago

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Back to you [4]

“Thunderstorms in spring„

Pairing: oc x Halstead bothers

Previous: prologue, episode one, episode two

Series summary: an old friend comes back and is need for help from the Halstead brother’s. Will this story end in heartbreak or a win?

Episode summary: Loralai talks to jay about the case and she and will are back to their old ways.

Words: 1745

Warngings: lots of angst this time, angry will

Author’s note: quite ironically this page is only the calm before the real storm. Some big revelations happening in the next chapter woohoo!! Please keep commenting and sending feedback it’s the only way I’m motivated to keep writing and it helps a lot. Thank you!! (+) quick dedication to @peachlle for reading and commenting, you are amazing♥️ I hope you’ll enjoy!!

Jay entered the hospital with a file in his hands. Turns out Ruzek had managed to shoot and kill one of the three guys that had attacked them earlier in the day and that was their only lead. They followed it but nothing good came out except a few random names and a photograph. He was hoping Loralai would have more to tell now that she was awake.

He stopped his pace when he heard loud voices coming from Loralai’s room, he took a peek and saw Will standing next her, shaking his head. His was very familiar with this picture of the two of them.

“This isn’t a joke Loralai!” Shouted Will. Jay felt like he was taken back to Will’s old apartment, listening to them fighting on their bedroom while he was in the living room, trying to ignore them.

“Isn’t it?” She asked, her voice loud and clear “because it feels like we’re back in time! It’s always the same fight with you Will, the same dialogue! You haven’t even changed your lines!”

“My lines? What about your ways Lor? How many times do you have to get hit to realize that you gotta stop—“

“IT’S MY JOB!” She shouted back.

“Your job is to write not to dodge bullets and pray that you’ll survive!”

“I don’t care wether I’ll survive or not!” She spat “even if I die, at least I’m dying for a reason! People will hear the stories that matter—“

“And what about the people that love you?” He asked, cutting her off before she could say anything else “what about your parents? Your sister? Me? Jay who saw you bleeding out in his hands? You die and then what happens to us? You really think it’s gonna be that easy for us to let go?”

Loralai scoffed “it didn’t seem like it was that hard for you to let me go three years ago.” She looked away “which reminds me. You are not even my boyfriend and I’m not your girlfriend so why the hell are we even fighting about this?”

Will didn’t answer to that, even Jay could feel how much it must have hurt him when she said those words. It was a cruel reminder but the truth. Will didn’t need to listen to anymore if it and as he stepped out of the room and turned the other way he bumped into Jay. He held him still.

“You ok Bud?” He asked but all Will could do was move his head. There was so much anger in his eyes, Jay expected to see smoke coming out of his ears. He looked down, rubbing his face, there were so many things he wanted to say but couldn’t so instead he settled of the typical “I have to go.”

Jay watched him leave without stopping him and then looked at the door to Loralai’s room. He fixed his jacket, like he was about to get in a ring and took a moment from himself to gather all the strength he could before he stepped inside. It was weird to see her again, awake. She was staring at the ceiling, biting her lip and scratching the sheets with her nails like she always did when she was angry. Ah, the details.

“Hello Sherlock.” He said, getting her attention. Her face light up immediately when she saw him, like she had been expecting him. She reached for him with her arms and jay walked quickly to her, wrapping his hands gently around her. He was so happy to see her safe and healthy. “How you feeling?” He asked, pulling away just enough to look at her.

“Better now that I don’t have your brother yelling at me.”

“he’s just worried about you a lot and you don’t make it easy for him—“

“That’s bullshit Jay! How many times a day do you have a gun pointed at your head? Why doesn’t he give you that speech of love and death— he thinks because I’m a woman I can’t take care of myself.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Loralai! He texts me everyday to make sure I’m ok, he’s as worried for me as he is for you the only difference is I’ve been trained to dodge the bullets! You barely know how to hold a gun!”

Loralai didn’t say anything and before she could come up with a smart reply jay left the file he was holding on the bed and pulled out one of the photographs. “Have you ever seen this guy before?”

Loralai accepted the change in subject and took a moment for herself to think. “No.”

“Ruzek shot him while he was running away. He’s the only one we got from the car. We have no other leads so I was hoping you’d tell me more.” He sat down on the chair next to her bed, waiting to hear her story.

She sighed, looking at the ceiling “one month ago there was a fire at the Heathwood’s family house do you remember?”

“Yes it was an accident—

“Except it wasn’t.” She said confidently. “My editor asked me to write a piece on it and Michael Heathwood who had magically survived. It was a Miracle, the kind of shit that people love to read. But when I met with him...”

“You knew there was something wrong” he finished her sentence and bowed his head “why didn’t you go to the police?”

“The police were on it Jay! They porpusly looked the other way. If I went he would find out! So I did it myself. I looked as deep as I could. His wife, Alicia Stewart, died only one month before the explosion from a car accident and When the house exploded his father in law, Stefan Stewart and his mother in law, Carla Stewart were the only ones that died.”

“You saying he wanted to kill that family?”

“im saying there are far too many coincidences Jay!” She cleared her throat “so I might have illegally checked his bank accounts.” Jay raised his eyebrows and stood still across from her. He didn’t approve at all of what she had told him “I didn’t find anything which was even weirder”

“And I don’t suppose you gave up from then on...”

“I spied on him, searched everything I had on him and you wanna know something funny? Michael heathwood didn’t even exist two years ago!”

“Wait wait—“ He raised his hands, signaling her to slow down. “What?”

“His real name is Peter Evans! He’s a con artist! He tricks rich families, kills them, takes their money, saves it under a different name and runs.”

Jay stood up, pacing the room until he balanced himself on the edge of the bed, trying to process everything that she had told him. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you! Make sure that this..” He pointed at her wounds “wouldn’t happen!”

“I had to get enough evidence first. Create the story. If he realized I was on to him he’d disappear in thin air”

He stood straight again, crossing his arms “And Where is your evidence?”

“In the flash drive I gave you!”

Jay didn’t answer, he narrowed his eyes looking at her confused. “What flash drive?”

“In the car!” She insisted “I gave you a USB! Did you lose it?”

Jay hid his face in his palms “it must have fallen on the car.” He said, trying to reassure himself that the information was safe. He looked back at Loralai reaching for her hand and giving it a light squeeze “we’ll find it.” He told her. She held his hand before he could slip it away and he looked in her eyes, his heart beating a little faster. It was the bruise right under her eye that made his body shiver, he couldn’t stand seeing her like this.

“I owe you an apology...” she whispered, completely changing the subject. He tried to fake a smile as if he didn’t understand.

“For getting shot at?”

“Jay—“

“Don’t.” He warned “Not now. We’ll talk when all this is over.” He brought her hand up to his lips and gave it a light kiss before exiting the room. On his way out he caught Will behind the reception, making some notes but he decided not to bother him. Will saw him too from the corner of his eye but he was still angry from before to have any conversation with any body.

When he finished writing his notes he looked towards Loralai’s room. She had her eyes closed and she looked like she was about to fall asleep, god knows she needed that rest. He sat down on a chair, watching her sleep. He couldn’t go home and he couldn’t go in her room after their argument so this was the best way to check up on her and make sure she’d be ok. After a while he started to fall asleep himself. The position of his neck was so uncomfortable that kept waking him up and annoying him. When he opened his eyes again because of the pain he saw Loralai moving nervously on her bed. Turning her head right and left and whimpering. He jumped of his chair and rushed to her side.

First thing he did was check her wounds but he saw nothing alarming. When his hand touched her skin, her eyes shot open and she grabbed for his wrist. She looked so terrified to him, so broken, nothing like the confident girl he was used to having around. All the time he knew her there was always one thing she couldn’t battle and that was her nightmares.

He made sure to look calm and not scare her anymore than she already was. “Hey hey it’s ok. It’s just me. Lor?” He held her hand softly, stroking her fingers until she broke down into tears. This was the first time he had seen her cry today, all it took was a nightmare. He sat next to her on the bed, pulling her swiftly in his arms to warm her. He caressed her back and kissed her forehead, whispering sweet words in her hair, his breath falling on her like a veil of safety. She snuggled closer while he spoke, reassuring her that it would be alright.

He always thought of her like a thunderstorm in spring. It didn’t rain a lot but when it did... it was hell.

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead #will halstead x reader #will halstead imagine #will halstead #chicago fire #chicago fan fic #chicago pd #chicago med #chicago #nick gehlfuss #jesse lee soffer #one chicago

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murdertrialimagines · 5 years ago

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Fall Ball (Kokichi x Reader)

“Hello~ I was wondering if I could request a School AU type were; Y/N and Kokichi are very good friends. And their school is hosting a dance. Kokichi really likes Y/N and wants to take them, but he could never admit it. So Kokichi asks for help from his other friends on how to ask his crush out and jajskakajs. I can just imagine it being so funny and cute. I know you will do great and I hope this is a good request. (Im always soft for the supreme leader)”

This is such a cute request! I am honestly not in tune with Kokichi’s personality, so I’m sorry if it’s a bit OOC! ^-^ Story under the tag~

Kokichi was a bizarre character, to say the least. He pranked, insulted, and drove everyone he knew to the brink of insanity/annoyance

Why people still hung out with him? Everyone who really knew him knows deep down he’d never really hurt them, even if he said things that took it too far sometimes. If he did, he’s always try to make up for it in his own kiddish way

His friends needed to be people who wouldn’t burst from annoyance easily, and that’s where you came in. You indulged him, letting him pull pranks and annoy you while making sure he didn’t take it too far and possibly kill someone (you swear, Korekiyo would’ve caught fire that one time).

He would never admit it, but he was grateful. After all, the funnest pranks take two minds!

Your latest scheme had been the classic water bucket prank on Shuichi. he was located on the side of Hopes Peak Academy, conveniently placed right under a window two stories up. He was with Kaede, both of them laughing and chatting like the old friends they were

“So, uh...Kaede? The fall formal is coming up, and I, well I was wondering if you’d like to go with m-”

His heartfelt speech was abruptly cut off, the sound of splashing water was all that was heard as he was soaked head to toe from above

Both he and Kaede looked up to see two snickering children leaning from a window, one of them holding a bucket

Y/n leaned back into the classroom they were hiding in, setting the bucket down on the floor next to her

“Aw, Kokichi, I love that prank! I can’t believe we’ve done it to Shuichi eight times this week!”

“Yep, and tonight we will make it nine!”

“I do feel kinda bad, though. I know how badly Shuichi wants to take Kaede to the dance next week. Like she’s gonna say no though, right?”

This was the exact topic Kokichi had been trying to avoid yet bring up at the same time. Everyone knows Kokichi has feelings, but he doesn’t allow himself to feel the ones that make him feel bad. He doesn’t like to feel guilt, stress, or negative emotions in general.

“Kokichi? You alive?” A hand was waving in front of his face, he must have zoned out

“Of course! I’m just thinking of something we could do to Kaito when he asks Maki to the dance.” He fiddled with one of the latches on his shirt. “Are you going to the dance Y/n? It’s gonna be mega lame, but Himiko is performing so everyone is trying to go.”

Y/n let out a laugh, punching him in the shoulder. “I’d only go if someone asked me, but I doubt that’ll happen. The only action I’d be getting is from the snack bar”

Kokichi listened as she laughed. He hated to admit it, but he was feeling things that for once he couldn’t repress. He liked Y/n, not just as a best friend, and it was driving him insane! Call it cliche but he really wanted to ask her out to the dance, show her off and have a great time, just the two of them

Kokichi resisted the urge to slam his head into the wall when Y/n grabbed his hand. “Let’s go, Shuichi is bound to be running up here now to kill us!”

After sprinting through the school and evading Shuichi (and getting split up) Kokichi decided to head home, shooting Y/n a quick text to tell her where he was going.

Where he really went, however, was his DICE headquarters, walking in to see all of his members lounging around or playing cards

“Kokichi! Why are you here? Are we setting plan ACES into movement?”

“No, that’s not till next Tuesday. I actually need...advice”

Everyone seemed more interested at this statement. He never needed help!”

“What do you need?”

Kokichi walked over and sat on the card table, a few played cards fluttering to the floor

“Well, today we- Y/n and I- pulled that prank on Shuichi again, right? And then we started talking about the dance next week, and it made me think of going with Y/n, and-”

He felt a hand over his mouth, and cringed at the sudden squealing in the air

“Omigod you wanna go with Y/n! That’s amazing! When are you gonna ask her?!”

Kokichi shoved the hand off of his mouth. “I’m not asking her! I don’t want to ruin the friendship we have.” “Well,” one of his members walked around him, putting their hands on his shoulders “Something tells me she likes you too~” “W-what?!”

Kokichi stood up and paced around for a moment, asking his friends how they knew

“You two already act like a really childish married couple! It’s obvious whatever you feel for her is returned in full.”

Kokichi thought about this for a second, before responding, “Okay, how do I ask her? Nothing sappy or anything!”

His friends grinned, already laying out blueprints for their plan

Kokichi came to school the next day and began ignoring Y/n, as it was part of their plan

“Okay, so first ignore her, then set the glitter bombs to explode at four, and when the teachers are distracted, find Y/n and have Himiko do the magic trick and finally ask her to the dance! Perfect!”

It was not perfect.

It was incredibly hard to hide from Y/n, as she was looking for him all day. On top of that, one of the glitter bombs (which had been safely kept with Kaito) exploded in said student’s backpack, covering everyone in the room with glitter. One of those people was Himiko, who had to go home to wash it off, and in return, Tenko attacked Kaito for ‘hurting’ her.

Kokichi had caused the chaos he originally planned, but not the way he wanted. Students and teachers alike were running around the hall, teachers trying to get kids to the nurses office for glitters in their eyes and students taking this opportunity to leave boring classes

The purple haired kid stood in the corner of some lockers and a classroom, staring at his phone. He had tried to video call Kaito, only receiving a view of Kaito screaming and sprinting, the crazed yells of Tenko behind him, before it finally disconnected. He texted Kaito as well, but none of his messages were being read.

Sighing, Kokichi slipped his phone into one of the many pockets in his jacket before turning around, watching all of the kids and students crowd the halls. Someone rammed into his shoulder, causing him to hit the wall

“Hey, watch it!” Kokichi turned around to glare down the careless student, only to be shoved into the wall again

“Why have you been ignoring me all day? I know you see me!”

The girl in front of him was not a careless kid, but his best friend, Y/n.

“Oh, Y/n! Come here often?” Kokichi put on his best suave smile and leaned against the wall

Y/n punched him in the shoulder. “I don’t appreciate your jokes right now, Shuichi. I want to know whats going on! Why have you been ignoring me? Why are bombs going off? Why is Tenko about to get a murder charge?!” “Why not?” She let out a huff and at Kokichi, folding her arms

“Kokichi, I want to know what’s going on. Now. This is insane, even for you!”

Kokichi looked down at the girl, a million thoughts running through his head. Before he could clear his thoughts, he heard his own voice ring out

“It was for you.”

Y/n looked taken back, as her expression shifted from anger and annoyance to surprise. “What? You better explain yourself.”

“It was for you,” Kokichi let everything out, watching the girl’s every shift in expression. “I wanted to ask you to the dance, but you know I don’t do those things! I asked for help, even though I never ask for help, so you should feel honored! Of course I asked the most incompetent people, against my better judgement, so everything went wrong. The plan didn’t work, I didn’t get to ask you out, and now I’m...finally defeated. So rub it in my face, before I go and find Kaito myself.”

Kokichi looked down at the floor waiting for Y/n to smack him upside the head and call him an idiot. But when he felt no impact, and heard stifled laughter, he became confused. He looked up to see Y/n trying to hold in fits of giggles, grinning from ear to ear

After the girl finally composed herself she looked at the purple haired boy, tears brimming her smiling eyes. “Kokichi, you are such an idiot.” There it is.

He felt Y/n put her hand on his arm gently, and now it was his turn to be confused. “Dude, you didn’t have to do all of this. Everyone knows I like you, and to be honest I thought you knew too! I just knew that you didn’t...feel...like people usually do, so I tried to get over it.”

They stood in a sincere silence, well, as silent as you can be in a crowded and loud hallway.

But to them, it felt like their own little world, just the two of them and a now slightly awkward silence as they stared at each other

Kokichi was the first to break the silence, letting out an awkward cough and casting his gaze at the ground. “So, are you going to be a jerk and make it?”

Y/n let out a small laugh, smirking at him. “Oh, definitely.”

“Ugh, okay, here goes...Y/n, will you do me the dishonor of going to the fall ball with me?”

“I would love to, dork”

________________________________________________________________

I literally have not written in like two months and I am so sorry

237 notes · View notes

phantasticworks · 5 years ago

Text

If You Don’t Love Me, Pretend - Chapter Three

hello! im back with the third chapter! lmk what you think and i hope you enjoy it!

read on ao3

Words: 11.7k

Summary: Dan and Phil continue the foster parent application process.

The next few days all blur together. Phil goes back to his own flat on Sunday evening, Dan had a meeting Monday night, and Phil had to work late Tuesday, so they decided that Phil would come back over to Dan’s after work Wednesday. That way they could go to the information meeting together that evening. Dan was sluggish and exhausted Monday, which felt ridiculous since he’d been lounging around practically all weekend.

When Wednesday rolls around, Dan is so excited he can hardly stand it. He’s more than ready to start the fostering process, and he knows that Phil is excited too. He’d caught him watching fostering story-times on YouTube the other day. Dan checks Facebook while he waits for Phil to get there, having already changed into jeans and a grey t-shirt for the meeting. He didn’t think this was like a formal thing, and he refused to look professional if he didn’t have to.

He hears the door opening downstairs but doesn’t bother moving from his position on the sofa. He’d decided long ago that one of his favorite positions to lounge around in was upside down on the sofa, his head dangling at an awkward angle, with his legs thrown over the back of it. They probably had about fifteen minutes before they needed to leave here to be on time anyway, so he didn’t want to move just yet. “I’m upstairs!” He calls out instead, allowing his best friend to come to him.

“I grabbed your mail on the way in. You need to make a dentist appointment, according to them. You also got a- oh. What are you doing?” Phil’s voice carries up the stairs, and Dan’s position doesn’t really allow him to get a good look at him until he comes to stand nearly in front of the tv.

“Hi. I’m just hanging out.” He grins, and he thinks that maybe the blood rushing to his head is making him delusional, because that joke is absurdly funny to him for some reason. “Hanging out?” Phil just shakes his head slowly, an incredulous look on his face.

“I can’t believe I agreed to pretend to be engaged to you. You’re really weird.” The older man declares, moving to place Dan’s mail on his coffee table. “Are you ready to go? We probably shouldn’t be late.” Phil crosses his arms, staring down at Dan. When Dan raises his gaze, he’s basically just given a perfect view of Phil’s crotch, and only when he tilts his head can he gaze at his disapproving face. He’s grateful for the fact that his face is already flushed, or else he’d surely be blushing at the way his eyes dart back to Phil’s crotch before he lets his head fall and his gaze falls to his ankles instead.

“Sure. Help me up.” He swings his arms up, waiting patiently while Phil helps him sit up, supporting his back as Dan swings his legs off the couch. “Thanks.” He groans, holding his throbbing head as soon as he’s right-side up again.

“No problem,” Phil smiles, then shakes his head at Dan. “I think you’re getting too old for that, Dan.”

“You’re getting old.” Dan retorts childishly, standing and grabbing his black denim jacket off the sofa where he’d left it earlier. He shrugs it on as he glances over at Phil, his hands halting their movements as he takes in Phil’s appearance. “Oh, no. Nope. We are not double-denim-ing.” He crosses his arms.

Phil looks confused until he glances down at his own black jeans, red and white striped shirt, and his light blue denim jacket. He immediately starts cackling, shrugging at Dan with a smirk. “Well, I’m not changing.” Crossing his arms to mirror Dan, they stand staring at each other like that, as if they’re having a staring contest.

“Well I’m not changing either.” Dan grumbles. “This is one of the only shirts that looks good with this jacket, and I’m not changing both.” He isn’t wavering, but he also considers that part of him is just secretly a bit smug that they look like a matching couple, even if it was completely unintentional.

Phil shrugs, turning to head down the stairs. “Then I guess we’re going to match. Come on, traffic might be bad, so we need to get there with time to spare.”

Dan mutters under his breath the whole way out the door and to his car, and eventually Phil asks him to either speak loud enough where he can hear what he’s complaining about or just shut up. Dan opts for the latter, mainly because he’s running out of insults.

Finding the office where they’re supposed to meet with Hazel at isn’t very difficult, but Phil is a terrible navigator. Dan decides this after they’ve taken two wrong turns, since Phil can’t tell his left from his right. “I’m just directionally challenged, Dan!” In response, Dan announces that his navigator privileges are being revoked.

“You’re lost, Phil. Lost.” He retorts as he makes a turn that would allow them to backtrack enough to get to the street they needed to be on.

“No, we are lost.” Phil waggles his engagement band in Dan’s face. “That’s what being engaged means. Together.”

“That’s so stupid.”

When they walk inside, Dan takes in all the information posters with pictures of happy, smiling children, and he almost cringes. Sure, they serve a purpose, but do they have to be everywhere? He puts on a smile when the receptionist looks up at them, casually gripping Phil’s right hand with his left, figuring they needed to look light a proper couple from the start.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” The blonde asks with a smile.

“We’re here to see Ms. Hayes, I’m Dan, and this is Phil.” He introduces them, gesturing to his best friend as he does so.

“Oh, of course. Hazel’s office is down the hall, second door on the left. She’s expecting you, so the door should be open.” The girl smiles at them, gesturing to the hallway.

“Thanks. Come on, dear,” he adds, tugging Phil along.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Phil’s elbow digs into his side. “Dear,” he mocks quietly.

“Shut up,” Dan hisses. “It’s for appearances, like the rings.”

Phil mumbles something that sounds like it ends with, “… because it bothers me.” But Dan ignores him, knocking lightly on the door frame of the room they’d been directed to. A girl with light ginger hair is sat at a desk, a paper in one hand as her eyes flit back and forth from it to the computer screen in front of her. She startles at the noise but smiles when she sees them.

“Hazel? I’m-“ He begins, stepping into the room.

Hazel stands, cutting him off as she does, holding her hand out for him to shake. “You must be Dan! And this is…” Her eyes shift to Phil and she blushes slightly, and Dan realizes then that he’d never specified that his fiancé was a man. Fuck, would this ruin it? He hadn’t even considered asking a woman to do this, mainly because he wasn’t close enough to any in order to ask something like this, but still. Was homophobia a thing in this situation?

“His fiancé. Phil Lester,” Phil steps in, dropping Dan’s hand in favor of shaking Hazel’s, an easy smile on his face. The older man may get awkward during things like shopping trips, but he was an expert on interviews.

“Of course! Please, have a seat.” She gestures to the chairs in front of her desk, and Dan is relieved to see that she doesn’t seem disgusted by the fact that they’re a same sex couple. Hopefully her initial reaction had just been surprised because she hadn’t thought to expect it. “Let me grab my paperwork, and we’ll get started.” She smiles at them.

They both nod, and Dan pipes up, “Sounds great.” He shares a nervous glance with Phil, who smiles at him reassuringly. Dan isn’t sure why, but he inexplicably feels that he should be holding Phil’s hand right now. The chairs they sit in are close enough to allow it, but he keeps his hands to himself.

“So,” Hazel says conversationally as she shuffles some papers around on her desk. “Have you guys discussed who’s taking whose surname? When you get married, of course.” She smiles, as if this is something they’d thought about.

They glance at each other before looking back at her, both of them answering simultaneously, “He’s taking mine.” Immediately after, they both turn to face each other in surprise.

“Um-“ Phil starts, clearly realizing that they may have messed up, considering she might take this to mean they hadn’t thought about it, which might make their relationship look unrealistic.

Dan laughs, then, both nervous and because, somewhere in his brain he has registered that it was funny that they’d said the same thing. He turns to Hazel, placing his left hand over Phil’s right and patting gently. “We’re hyphenating them. So, technically, we’re taking each other’s.” He lies smoothly.

Phil nods along, before shrugging. “I personally think we should just combine them. We could be the Howlters, Dan.” He grins at this, and Dan rolls his eyes, because of course Phil would come up with something stupid and ridiculous that makes it actually sound like they’d had it thought out.

Hazel laughs at this good-naturedly, not missing a beat. “I think either are good choices, personally. So, you two are going to be co-fostering, correct?” She confirms, moving swiftly into the reason they’re here.

“Yes,” Dan nods, and it’s only then that he realizes he hadn’t removed his hand from Phil’s. He glances over at the older man, who only gently turns his hand over to allow Dan to lace their fingers together. Dan swallows hard, feeling conflicted about how normal and safe the contact feels. He quickly turns his gaze away, looking at Hazel instead.

“Great! So, basically all we needed to discuss today is how the process works, logistics, things like that. If you feel you need more time after this meeting to think about it, then you can just give me a call when you’re ready to take the next step, or just go ahead and begin the application process, if you’re certain about your decision.” She pushes a pamphlet across her desk for them to take, and Dan glances at Phil once before grabbing it. They both knew they’d be filling out the paperwork at the end of this session, but they’d humor her, anyway.

“Sounds great,” Phil says with a smile.

“Well, let’s get started!” Hazel smiles broadly at both of them before picking up a paper. “So, the first thing you need to be aware of…”

---

“That was exhausting,” Dan whines as they climb into the car nearly an hour later. Phil snorts from beside him, where he’s putting his seatbelt on.

“This was your idea.” He reminds him easily, staring out the window as Dan begins driving back to his -their- flat.

Dan sighs, running a hand through his curls. “Yeah, I know. I don’t regret it or anything, it was just a long meeting, and I feel like I knew all that already.” He glances over at Phil, who hasn’t looked at him since they got in the car. “Are you alright?” He asks softly, bringing his hand down to rest on Phil’s wrist.

Phil looks down at the contact, but just nods. Dan waits for him to speak, and when it becomes obvious that he isn’t going to, he draws his hand away. He’s surprised when Phil catches it, intertwining their fingers and squeezing tightly. “Eighty percent, Dan.” He turns his wide blue eyes to Dan then, and the brunet is confused. “She said that eighty percent of children in England are in foster care.” His eyes are shining, and Dan suddenly understands his silence.

The older man hadn’t always been sentimental, but as he’d gotten older, Dan guessed he’s gotten more in tune to his emotions, and now that something like this has come up, he was getting overwhelmed. “I know,” he says softly, squeezing his best friend’s hand tightly in his own. “We’re doing a good thing, you know. We may not have the best methods, but we’ll be doing a good thing.”

Phil nods, staring out the window again, but not releasing Dan’s hand. The younger man didn’t mind; he was happy to hold hands with his best friend like this and being a source of comfort always filled him with pride. He felt like he had spent so much of his life being someone who relies on others, it was really nice to feel like he was needed every now and then. Especially since this was his best friend in the entire world, and probably one of the only people Dan trusted with his own life.

“Can we stop by my flat? I want to grab some of my things since it’s on the way.” Phil requests suddenly.

Dan nods, glad Phil had spoken up when he did, as the street he lived on was coming up. “Sure.” He drags his thumb against the back of Phil’s hand in small circles, hoping to comfort him.

They walk into Phil’s flat in silence, and Dan trails around the living room while Phil goes to his room to collect whatever he’d wanted to get. They would probably need to start moving his things in sooner or later, and he smiled at the idea of having sleepovers every night with his best friend. It would be just like it was before, when they lived together, except they’d have more space and be more financially stable. Also, they’d have a child (children?) to take care of. No big deal.

“Alright,” Phil says as he comes out of his room carrying a backpack. He had a pillow under his arm, and he blushes when Dan raises an eyebrow. “I’m kind of a cuddler when I sleep, so-“ He begins explaining.

Dan laughs, nodding. “I remember, Phil. We used to share a bed all the time, remember?” The reminder throws him back to when they lived together before, the nights spent passed out in their couch, limbs overlapping as the Mario Kart menu screen flickered.

Phil nods. They leave quietly, and Phil instinctively locks the door behind them. Dan notices then how stuffed Phil’s bag appears to be. As they walk to the car, he asks, “So, how long are you staying?”

Shrugging, Phil tosses the bag into the backseat as they climb into the car. “I figured I’d stay the night, and might as well just start gradually moving my stuff in, right?”

Dan nods in agreement. “Yeah, course.” He hesitates before glancing at Phil again, then clearing his throat. “You know I don’t care how long you stay, right? I mean, yeah you’re moving in soon and all, so obviously you’ll be stuck at that point, but if you want to just start staying with me now, I don’t mind.” He says softly.

Phil stares at his window before nodding slowly. “I know. I just…” His lips quirk downward for an instant. Blink and you’d miss it. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”

“Of course.” Dan mumbles, bringing his hand up to intertwine with Phil’s again. “Do you want Domino’s tonight?” He asks as he parks.

Phil shakes his head, squeezing Dan’s hand once before pulling away and opening the door to get out. “We’ve had a lot of junk lately, we need to start cooking more. Get into the habit now.” He explains, shouldering his backpack as they walk inside the building to the elevator.

“Okay. What would you like? I think I’ve got some stuff for stir fry, or I can do some rice?” Dan suggests.

Biting his lip, Phil shakes his head. He looks hesitant before he raises his eyebrows. “Breakfast?”

Dan laughs in response, nodding. “Sure. If that’s what you want.” He shrugs, unlocking the front door now that they’re there.

After taking their shoes off, Phil disappears into the bathroom to take a shower and change into pajamas, and Dan reckons he needs some space to process how he’s feeling. Dan goes about his work in the kitchen after shrugging off his jacket and tossing it carelessly onto the table, pulling out eggs and some bacon and bread for toast. It may not be a full English, but it would have to do until the next time they could go grocery shopping.

He doesn’t realize it, but as he cooks he starts singing to himself softly, and he’s not even aware enough of it to really realize what it is that he’s singing. It’s just a habit from living alone for so long and needing something to occupy himself with while he does mundane tasks like this. It’s not until he hears a voice that he stops, jumping in surprise.

“What?” He spins around to face Phil, who’s stood on the other side of the island in his boxers, water dripping from his hair onto a holey tee-shirt that he’s had since before Dan even met him.

“I said that you sounded nice. What was that?” Phil says, leaning on the counter casually, as if he hadn’t nearly given Dan fifteen simultaneous heart attacks by sneaking up on him in his pants.

“Oh. I don’t know. What did it sound like?” His mind is drawing a blank, helpfully choosing to fixate on a bead of water meandering down his best friend’s throat.

Phil shrugs in response, looking at him with a small smile. “I don’t know, you listen to more music than I do. You sound better than you used to, though. You used to sound like a dying cat when you’d sing in the shower.” He grins broadly. His insult earns him a dish towel thrown directly in his face. “Oi!” He laughs.

“You can’t make fun of the chef and expect to get away with it. Besides, you’re getting a free concert, so I’d shut the fuck up if I were you.” He says lightly, flipping over the bacon. He feels the (now damp) dish towel hit his back, and he sighs exasperatedly before picking it up and tossing it to lay over his shoulder.

Phil doesn’t respond immediately, and Dan barely has time to grow suspicious before Phil’s hand is covering his mouth. Dan’s eyes widen, and he struggles to shift his head to the side to glare at his best friend. “What are you doing?” His voice is muffled, and he has half a desire to lick Phil’s palm.

Shrugging, a grin stretches across Phil’s lips. “I’m shutting the fuck-up.” There’s a brief silence before Dan huffs, unimpressed. This is followed by a squeal, courtesy of Phil, and Dan only grins as he takes a step back. “You licked my hand!” He whines, waving his hand around pathetically before rubbing it across Dan’s shoulder blades, effectively ridding his hand of Dan’s saliva.

The brunette only shrugs and gestures to the cupboard on the other side of Phil. “Get some plates out, you spoon. If you’re going to be in my kitchen, you’re going to be useful.”

“Our kitchen,” Phil sing-songs. His tongue pokes out between his teeth when Dan pinches him, but he does go to retrieve the plates. “Speaking of which,” he says hesitantly.

“Yeah?” Dan says curiously, glancing at him before turning his attention to the bread that needed to be toasted.

“I think I should start paying half the rent. Like, when I properly move in.” Phil says casually, not meeting Dan’s eyes as he sets the plates down.

Dan’s jaw nearly drops then, and he stares at Phil incredulously. “No. Absolutely not, that was part of the deal, remember? Your lease was going out and moving here just made the most sense.”

“Dan,” Phil sighs in exasperation. “I’m not trying to like, take your flat from you or something, it’s just-“ he begins.

Cutting him off quickly, Dan shakes his head again. “No, I’m not even entertaining this with you. No. You can help with, like, groceries, or something.” He shrugs, stepping back over to stir the eggs. Phil’s leaning back against the counter beside the stove, and Dan purposefully keeps his gaze from lingering on his shirtless form.

Sighing, Phil shakes his head. “That’s not fair to you, Dan.” He says softly.

Dan shrugs. “I’ve been paying rent here on my own for years now, Phil. It’s not a problem, really.” Without waiting for anymore argument, he scoops some eggs and bacon on a plate before handing it to Phil. Perfectly timed, the toast jumps out of the toaster then. “Breakfast is ready.” He smiles, turning to go over to the fridge for some orange juice. Even if it wasn’t morning, breakfast food was cause for breakfast drinks. Phil sighs, but apparently chooses to drop the subject, at least for now.

They eat at the table in the kitchen, mostly out of laziness. For some reason, the past few hours felt years long.

“Wanna go to bed and watch some anime on my laptop?”

Phil nods, following him down the hall. They pass the office on the way, and Dan remembers something.

“Do you think we should go ahead and change up the office, or just wait until we know for sure how many kids we’ll be fostering?” He asks as they make his way into his- their- room.

Phil shrugs. “I think it would be easier to just wait. The guest room has the dresser and everything already, we should probably just change the bed. I think the rest can wait.” He suggests, climbing onto the right side of the bed, pulling the sheets and duvet over himself.

Dan nods, pulling out his pajamas from his dresser. He doesn’t even think about it before tugging his shirt off and replacing it with the softer sleep shirt with ugly spacesuit-wearing cats. That is, until he turns to say something to Phil and sees him staring pointedly at the ceiling. Dan almost asks why, until it occurs to him that he’s just started stripping in front of his best friend. “Oh- er- sorry.” He mumbles before shuffling into the en-suite bathroom to change into his pajama bottoms and brush his teeth.

He nearly curses himself for putting Phil in a position where he feels awkward, but then remembers that Phil had been lounging around in just a t-shirt and pants since after his shower. Suddenly flooded with a feeling of annoyance at the fact that Phil could seemingly just do whatever he wanted, Dan makes the decision to leave his pajama bottoms in the bathroom, unworn. He normally slept in just boxers, unless it was cold, but he wouldn’t go that far. The t-shirt he was wearing was pretty long and reached around the end of his boxers, so it’s not like he was being indecent or anything. He brushed his teeth quickly, mentally singing the happy birthday song, a childhood habit he’d never been able to kick.

As soon as Dan walks out of the bathroom, he realizes that maybe Phil wasn’t quite back to his usual self. He was sitting there with his arms wrapped around his legs, head resting on his knees and Dan could tell that he was crying with the way his body was shaking gently, and Dan was slightly relieved the light was already off, feeling that may allow Phil to feel slightly less embarrassed that Dan had found him like this.

“Phil,” Dan whispers softly as he crawls onto his own side of the bed. Phil visibly flinches, stiffening his posture. He slowly lifts his head, blinking blearily. Dan smiles at him sadly. This seems to just set Phil off again, and his head is right back where it was, the room full of his quiet sobs. “Hey,” Dan murmurs, scooting closer and pulling Phil’s arms away from his legs. As his position has been disrupted, Phil just looks up at Dan, his gaze unfocused without his glasses or contacts.

“I’m sorry,” Phil whispers, looking away. “I didn’t mean to… Well, I thought I was alright.” He explains miserably.

Dan shakes his head, rubbing Phil’s back with one hand while the other settles on his knee. “Phil, it’s fine to be upset. Fuck, anyone would be.”

“You’re not very upset.” Phil mumbles, staring down at the duvet as if it had personally offended him.

Dan shrugs. “It wasn’t new information to me, Phil. I researched this for weeks. I already knew the majority of what she said, including the statistics. Believe me, the first time I read that, I cried for hours. Why else did you think I wanted to do this so badly?”

Phil hiccups then, nodding slowly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again.

Sighing, Dan shakes his head. “Phil, there’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s perfectly natu-“

Phil cuts him off then. “Not for that.” When Dan just looks at him in confusion, Phil shifts slightly, causing Dan’s hand resting on his knee to shift inward, closer to his inner thigh. If this bothers him, he doesn’t show it. “For not being there for you, when you found out about this. You didn’t tell me and I wasn’t… here.” Phil shrugs, twisting his ring around his finger. Dan had all but forgotten about them, honestly.

“I was…” he considers for a long moment, “I was handling it. Besides,” he shrugs, forcing a smile. “If I hadn’t done all that research, I wouldn’t have been so insistent on doing this, and you wouldn’t be moving in with me.” He tries to sound as positive as possible.

Phil stares at him for a moment before nodding slowly. “I guess…” He trails off, still twisting the ring. Dan gently pushes his hands apart, intertwining his right hand with Phil’s left.

“Come on, let’s just go to sleep. Anime will still be there tomorrow after work.” Dan suggests gently, tugging Phil down with him as he settles onto his pillow. Moments later, they’re both laying there in the dark, hands still intertwined between them, staring up at the ceiling.

“Thank you, Dan.” Phil whispers into the dark. Dan squeezes his hand in response, relishing in the way the cool metal of the engagement ring feels against his own fingers. He knew that it was just a prop- a costume piece to support their lie- but he couldn’t help feeling a bit proud, and even possessive. As if Phil was his, just by wearing the simple band. Which wasn’t true by any means, even if it did make Dan’s heart swell for reasons he was totally unwilling to consider.

Dan nearly pouts when he feels Phil’s hand slide from his grip, but he’s quickly reconsidering his disappointment when Phil scoots closer and rests his head on Dan’s shoulder. Dan doesn’t even hesitate before shifting so that his arm is thrown over Phil, drawing him closer, tilting his head to lean it against the top of Phil’s.

“Is this okay?” The ebony haired man asks softly.

Dan nods to the empty darkness. “Of course it is, Phil. Whatever you want.” He whispers.

He doesn’t really expect a response to that, but Phil surprises him. “You’re my best friend.” Phil says, almost thoughtfully.

Laughing gently, Dan squeezes Phil from where his arm is wrapped around him. “I sure hope so, considering you’ve agreed to pretend to be my fiancé.” There’s a pause, and then he brings his left hand up to tap Phil’s. “Should we take these off to sleep?”

After a moment of heavy silence, he hears a small laugh. “I almost forgot.” Phil twists the ring off and leans away to drop it on his nightstand, while Dan does the same. It’s strange, how much heavier his finger suddenly feels without the metal band. Phil rolls over to face the other way, his back just barely pressing against Dan’s arm. “Night, Dan,” he whispers softly, his voice barely audible.

“Night,” Dan responds. He can’t help but feel like he’s done or said something horribly, horribly wrong.

~~~

The next few weeks pass easy. More of Phil’s things accumulate naturally, interspersed throughout the flat. Since most of his furniture in the old flat was included in the apartment when he moved in, they realize pretty quickly that Phil doesn’t have much other than his personal things and an army of half-dead houseplants. He grins as he remembers the exchange they’d had about that.

“I’m literally one hundred percent certain that this one is dead. D.N.R. Beyond saving. Very heavy.” Dan whined as they were working on moving some of his things out.

“She has character, Dan! I can’t just leave her behind!” The older man was collecting his movies and video games from the shelf in his lounge while Dan complained in the conjoining kitchen.

“Her?” He says, incredulous.

“Yes. Her name is Susan, and I can’t just leave her.”

“Phil. I will buy you a new plant- two new plants! If you leave this one here. Please.” Walking over to where Phil is currently standing in the lounge, considering this, Dan crosses his fingers.

Phil slowly nodded, a smile coming onto his face. “Okay, fine. But, you have to let me pick them out.”

Dan let out a sigh of relief. “Sure. You can do whatever you want as long as I don’t have to carry it- sorry, her into our flat.” He noticed the smug way Phil grins then, and he sticks his tongue out in response.

That was about two weeks after their first meeting with Hazel, and now, a week later, Phil is practically completely moved in. He never spends the night at the old flat anymore, and Dan doesn’t even think to mention it.

Dan’s just putting a few of his papers away when Louise walks into his office. “Hey, Lou.” He greets her with a smile. She was probably his closest friend besides Phil, and although her children kept them from spending a lot of time outside of work, they did get together occasionally, typically to get wine drunk and watch sappy movies. Phil had been along for a couple of those evenings, and he normally found it completely ridiculous, choosing to watch them get wasted instead of participating in it himself.

“Hi, love. Are you about ready for lunch?” The blonde asks, settling in one of the chairs across from him.

“Yeah, give me just a second. You know that scholarship I sent you? I think Maria-“ He’s interrupted by his phone ringing, and he smiles at her apologetically before picking it up. He’s barely taken in the surprised gasp from her before he answers the call, which is from Phil. “Hey,” he greets, giving Louise a strange look as he takes in the shocked expression on her face.

“Hey. Are you busy?” Phil asks on the other end. Dan barely hears him, considering Louise is sat in front of him pointing furiously at her ring finger of her left hand, and then to him, repeating the motion until it clicks. Oh shit. He’d been pretty diligent in taking the engagement ring off at work, wanting to avoid questions as much as possible, but it looked like he messed up.

“Oh- um… No? Not exactly, Louise just came in for lunch. What’s up?” Dan says as evenly as possible, looking apologetically at Louise, who looks positively livid, probably because he hadn’t told her, and well, she took those sort of things to heart.

“Oh, tell her I said hi.” Phil says, completely unaware that the blonde in question is glaring daggers at Dan. “Anyway, the movers came to get the bed and I hoovered in there. According to Amazon, the new bed will be here by tomorrow.”

Dan’s able to tear his attention away from his coworker when he hears that. “Oh, really? That’s great. Should we order some sheets and things like that? Like, just some basic ones?” He’s a planner down to his core, and he loves home decoration, so he’s bursting with excitement at the prospect of buying furniture and things to decorate with.

“I think we should get at least one set of sheets for now, maybe some more later. Hey, have you heard from Hazel about the interview yet?” At the reminder, Dan turns to his computer, purposefully avoiding meeting Louise’s gaze as he switches his phone to his right hand in order to use his dominant hand to navigate on the screen.

“Yeah, she sent me an email with some dates. I was thinking March twenty-eighth? You have that radio show on Friday, and we can’t do it the week before because you told Martyn we’d go to dinner with him and Cornelia.” Dan goes through their options of the dates Hazel had sent them, shaking his head at the fact that he managed to remember most of the things they had coming up.

He can hear Phil flipping pages before he responds. “Yeah, that works. Okay, I’ll let you get back to work and lunch and everything. Don’t forget to tell Louise I said hi.” Phil says.

Dan rolls his eyes but nods. “Okay. I’ll see you when I get home. Oh- do we need anything besides milk?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll text you if we do.”

“Alright. Bye.” He waits for Phil to respond in the same way before hanging up, slowly bringing his gaze up to Louise, who’s fuming.

“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Daniel?” She says with her teeth clenched.

“Er… Phil says hi?” He tries, scratching the back of his neck.

“I can’t believe you. I cannot believe you and Phil got engaged and didn’t tell me. I thought we were friends, Dan!” She sounds almost hysterical at this point, but Dan is just hung up on one thing.

“Wait… I didn’t tell you Phil and I were engaged.” He says slowly.

“Obviously! That’s why I’m upset!” The blonde whines, punctuating every word with a swat to his arm.

“No, Louise. I meant, I didn’t tell you it was Phil.” He shakes his head, confused.

She stops swatting for a moment, her eyebrows knitting together as if she doesn’t understand. “Who else would it be, Dan?” That brings him up short, but before he can say anything else, Louise resumes her swatting. “I’m happy for you, obviously. Just a little surprised that you didn’t tell me.” She’s looking at him with fierce pride, but simultaneously like she wants to shake him.

He’s so surprised himself, at her clear acceptance, and it’s a good thing she’s a talker because he mulls this over for the duration of lunch as she fills him in on her latest gossip. As she goes back to her own office, she makes him promise that they’ll get together soon to chat about his and Phil’s relationship. “I deserve all the juicy details, after all.”

He lets her leave with nothing more than a half-hearted nod and smile, thoughts swirling wildly as she shuts his door behind herself on the way out. What a… peculiar day.

---

The days pass, and finally the day has come for the interview with Hazel. Since it’s a legit interview, both of them have to take off work early in order to get there in time. Dan figures that since the BBC office where Phil works is on the way to Hazel’s office, it’s easiest to just stop by there to pick him up. When he pulls up outside, he fiddles with his phone for a moment before deciding to call him and let him know that he’s there.

“Hey-“ Dan begins, glancing out the window towards the building.

“Sorry, I know. I’m late, I’ll be out in just a second.” Phil says hurriedly. Dan can hear distinct voices in the background, and he detects a tightness in the way that Phil speaks, indicating that something must be wrong.

“Hold on, you’re not late. What’s wrong?” He demands, fidgeting nervously.

“Nothing, Dan, just- PJ, no!” With that, Dan hears a slight scuffle, and then the voice of a different man floods the line.

“Hello, Dan.” PJ says warmly, sounding amused. “So, engagement, huh?” He continues, and Dan can hear Phil protesting in the background.

Dan’s blood runs cold, and his eyes widen in panic. He and Phil hadn’t discussed what they were telling their coworkers, and he hadn’t even told Phil that Louise had found out on her own. This was not good. “Um…” He says slowly, stalling until Phil can get his phone back.

“Well, congratulations, mate. A few of our coworkers are admittedly a bit pissed that he didn’t tell us, but I can’t say I’m all that surprised. I told them you two were bound to get engaged eventually, and you just came along and proved me right.” PJ doesn’t sound the least bit guilty for divulging all this, and Dan’s stomach churns. If Phil was so annoyed for PJ to take his phone, then he must have expected something like this to happen, and he must be seething right now.

Figuring that he’s got nothing to lose here, since PJ, and evidently some other people, already know about it, Dan clears his throat before speaking. “Thanks, Peej. Can you give the phone back to Phil, now?” He requests as evenly as possible.

“Sure, mate.” There’s a sound as if he’s covering the speaker, but Dan hears him tell Phil, “Your fiancé is desperate to speak with you, Philip.” Dan rolls his eyes at this, but he isn’t all that surprised. He’d known PJ for quite some time, and this was just in his nature. “Well, it was lovely to speak with you, Dan. Bye for now!”

Dan doesn’t respond, instead waiting anxiously for Phil to take the phone back. “Sorry. I’ll be out in just a minute.” Phil says hurriedly before hanging up. Dan glares down at his phone but sighs resignedly. Phil would be in the car in just a minute anyway, so it didn’t really matter that he wasn’t willing to talk about it now.

After waiting for a few moments, Dan watches as the door to the building opens, Phil stepping out with his messenger bag. He watches as Phil drags a hand through his quiff, messing it up slightly. Swallowing hard, Dan tears his eyes away, instead looking at his steering wheel as he waits for Phil to climb into the car.

“Hi.” Phil greets him simply. The anger is rolling off him in waves, and Dan’s not entirely sure how to handle it, given he’s not sure who exactly Phil is mad at here.

“Hey.” He says softly, waiting until Phil’s buckled his seatbelt before driving out of the parking lot and back to the main road. “So, um… Looks like they found out.” He tries weakly.

That’s the breaking point, and Dan’s almost relieved to get a reaction that isn’t angry silence. “What the hell did you say to him, Dan?” He demands, a glare on his face.

Dan sighs. “I didn’t say anything, Phil. He did all the talking. All I told him was to give the phone back to you.”

“Like hell! As soon as he started talking to you, it clicked, and he knew exactly who I was “engaged” to!” Phil rants. Dan shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing.

“So? How did he know you- Oh. Phil, the ring.” His gaze falling to the way Phil’s hands are fisted in his lap, Dan’s eyes trail over his left hand, where, sure enough, the silver band that matches his own is resting on Phil’s ring finger.

Phil blushes, covering it with his right hand when he realizes what Dan’s gaze is on. “I forgot. But I didn’t tell them who it was! They realized it right before you called, and I was in the middle of trying to explain the situation when you called. He didn’t even know until he started talking to you.” The accusation in Phil’s voice is absolutely unmistakable, and Dan frowns, his own anger swelling up in his chest.

Glancing away from the road as he makes a turn, his gaze darts back to Phil. “Oh, so now it’s my fault that your coworkers know we’re engaged?” He spits the word out as if it’s a curse, which in his opinion, it might as well be.

Phil rolls his eyes and slinks down in his seat, glaring out his window. “Well it certainly didn’t help.”

“Excuse me?” Dan demands loudly, disbelieving. It was absolutely not his fault, he wasn’t the one who forgot to take off his…. Well, technically he did, but not this time.

“You shouldn’t have even said anything to him.” Phil says miserably. “I was handling it, Dan! I had an excuse already, and I could have handled it.”

Dan stares at the road in silence for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t say anything to PJ. The second he said hello he went straight to engagement, he didn’t let me get a fucking word in. So, no, I didn’t ruin your precious secret.” He snaps.

Phil glances at him in surprise, probably realizing that Dan was telling the truth. “Dan, that’s not-“

Dan cuts him off immediately. “Second,” He speaks louder, until Phil shuts his mouth. “Of course, he knew, Phil. Louise knew the second she saw the fucking ring, and I didn’t say a word to her, either.” At the look of surprise on Phil’s face, Dan rolls his eyes. “I figured it would just upset you if I told you she found out. It looks like I was right.” Seething, and a little bit hurt at the way Phil had seemed so disgusted for any of his coworkers to know about this, Dan pulls into the parallel parking space designated for visitors at the foster company office.

It’s silent for a moment before Phil speaks again. “I’m sorry. I overreacted.” He says softly.

“Yeah.” Dan snips. He knows he’s just being rude at this point, but the hurt he feels takes over his desire to have a better attitude.

Phil sighs deeply, looking up at the office they’re about to go in. “Look, we need to talk about this, but now is not a good time, okay? We’ve got to ace this interview, and we can’t do that if we’re at each other’s throats. Truce?” He asks, his blue, blue eyes searching Dan’s face anxiously.

Dan glares stubbornly back for several long seconds, willing himself not to express the hurt he feels before deflating slightly. He had never been good at staying mad at his best friend when they were allowed to avoid each other and found this to be even truer in situation where they were inches apart. “Okay,” he says tiredly. “But next time I’d appreciate it if you asked me what happened instead of jumping down my throat about it, yeah?” He mutters, sliding out of the car, keys in hand.

“Okay. Dan,” he calls quietly. Dan turns around with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sorry.”

It certainly didn’t undo anything, but Dan still feels slightly relieved that he’d said it at all. “Yeah.”

Phil sighs heavily before joining him in front of the car a second later. Dan barely thinks about it before he reaches for Phil’s hand, intertwining their fingers. He avoids the gaze he feels burning into the side of his face, and instead makes his way to the building, tugging gently on his fake fiancé’s hand.

“We’re here to meet with Hazel, we have an appointment.” Dan smiles brightly at the receptionist, flicking a curl out of his eye with the hand not enclosed around Phil’s.

The receptionist smiles, almost flirtingly, and Dan quirks an eyebrow. It’s a different girl than before, a brunette this time, and she must not realize that he’s “engaged” to someone else. “Sure. I’ll let her know you’re here, Mr….” She trails off, clearly waiting for him to supply his last name.

Phil jumps in then, to Dan’s surprise. A tight smile is on his lips, and he shifts so that he’s closer to Dan. “Howell, soon to be Howell-Lester.” He smiles too widely, lifting their hands that are still clasped together.

The receptionist’s smile falls slightly when her gaze drops to their hands, and Dan nearly laughs. “Oh! Yes, this is my fiancé, Phil. Ms. Hayes is our caseworker for the foster process.” He says with a smile, secretly enjoying the way that Phil seems to be a little annoyed with the receptionist.

“Right. I’ll let her know you’re here.” The brunette says, her lips now quirked down into a frown.

“Thanks.” Dan smiles, leading Phil over to the seating area. “Nice,” he mutters when they settle on an ugly blue sofa.

“What?” Phil responds quietly, rolling his eyes and pulling his hand out of Dan’s. The younger man frowns slightly at the loss of contact, but says nothing, instead choosing to prop his left elbow up on the back of the sofa, tilting shifting his body so that he’s turned in Phil’s direction.

“Your whole ‘I’m the jealous fiancé’ bit. Very convincing, I liked that.” Dan expecting a laugh or even an eyeroll on Phil’s behalf.

Instead, his cheeks flood with color, and he shrugs. “Whatever.” He mutters, pulling his phone out.

Dan stares at him, confused. What was his problem? Instead of asking, he only shifts closer to watch Phil play Crossy Road, allowing his arm to rest behind Phil’s shoulders. Phil glances at him but only shifts so that he’s leaning more comfortably against Dan’s side, holding his phone so that Dan can easily watch the game. This kind of closeness isn’t anything new to either of them, but there’s just a palpable tension in the way they lean against each other.

Without realizing it, he begins playing with the neckline on Phil’s shirt, which he realizes now is just a t-shirt. They’re close enough that Dan can see goosebumps on his arm. “Are you cold?”

“No,” Phil answers nearly immediately, shooting a glance over his shoulder at Dan.

Dan quirks an eyebrow before rolling his eyes, leaning away from him to pull off his own jacket. “Don’t be stupid. Here.” He holds the coat out.

The older man sighs but sets his phone in his lap and shrugs the fabric on, a frown set on his lips. “Thanks.” He says softly before leaning back, looking at Dan expectantly, waiting for him to resume his former position so Phil would have something to lean against.

Dan grins, dropping his arm onto the back of the sofa, gesturing for Phil to lean against his chest. Phil rolls his eyes but obliges. There’s something incredibly excellent about how Phil is cutting off all of the circulation to his hand, but Dan pushes that thought out of his mind.

“Dan, Phil, hi. Sorry I’m running late, my last meeting was running a little later than I thought it would.” Hazel’s voice says, causing both men to glance up at her.

Dan gently prompts Phil to stand with a hand on his back, which he doesn’t remove when he goes to stand. “No problem, Hazel.” He says, a genuine smile on his face as he goes to shake her hand.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long.” She says worriedly, gesturing for them to follow her, her heels clicking on the tile as she guides them to her office.

“We’ve only been here for a few minutes, honestly.” Phil reassures her, smiling when she turns to glance at him.

“Great! Well, have a seat and we’ll get started.” The blonde gestures to the seats in front of her desk, the very same as last time, and only when Phil goes to sit does Dan realize that his hand hadn’t moved from the small of his back the entire trip down the hallway. He vaguely wonders if the receptionist saw, and part of him hopes that she did.

The interview begins with the same boring, general questions that Dan had expected when he researched the fostering process. Questions about what their childhood was like, how they felt conflict should be resolved, and what sort of family activities they enjoyed, or since they weren’t already parents, what sort of family activities did they hope to take part of when they became foster parents. He and Phil had sort of already gone over most of this, so they felt pretty well prepared.

That is, until they were asked a question Dan hadn’t prepared for.

“So,” Hazel says, jotting one of their previous responses down in the same notebook she had been using. She smiles at them, a reassuring thing, and Dan returns it. “The interview is going really well, I’ll tell you that now.” Hazel looks utterly thrilled with this, and Dan gets the sense that she really enjoys finding good families to foster children. He squeezes Phil’s knee, excited with her announcement.

Dan didn’t really notice when he did it, but he was utterly conscious of when he had started tracing small circles over the black fabric of Phil’s skinny jeans. When they were questioned about their own childhood, he’d felt a spike of anxiety, and he’d needed something to ground himself. The movement helped, but Dan didn’t miss the way that Phil seemed a little more reluctant than usual to rest his hand over Dan’s wrist.

“That’s always good to hear,” Phil tells her, a broad smile on his face. He doesn’t look at Dan when he says this, but Dan feels the way his grip slightly tightens on his wrist.

“Oh, definitely. Now I’ve got a few questions that pertain to your relationship, if you don’t mind.” She must notice the panic that passes between them in their shared glance, but she misinterprets it completely. “Nothing too personal! Er- we just need some insight to how the two of you function as a unit.” She smiles reassuringly.

Dan nods, struggling not to lose his casual stance and smile. He knew this part was coming, but he was suddenly unsure if they could really pass as a real couple right now, let alone an engaged couple who are ready for kids. On a normal day, maybe, but right now he still felt the uneasiness between them in the air, and he knew, he just knew that it wouldn’t be nearly as easy to convince her while they’re like this.

“Well, you can’t possibly ask anything we haven’t already been asked, in terms of personal.” Dan jokes, because if there’s anything he’s good at, it’s diffusing his own anxiety using witty humor. And it really wasn’t that much of a lie, as Louise had been pestering him with rather personal questions about their sex life since the minute she found out about their “engagement.”

Phil frowns at him when he says this, shifting enough that his hand falls away from Dan’s. He looks vaguely annoyed, and Dan nearly rolls his eyes at how offended he seems to be by the implications behind Dan’s words. It’s not like he was sharing something seriously personal. It wasn’t like that.

Luckily, Hazel must have the same taste, because she laughs as well. “Great! Then this should be a breeze.” At their affirmative nods, she dives straight in. “Describe or give me some examples of how you two support each other.” She says conversationally, sitting back to allow them room to speak.

Dan is thrown, and he glances at Phil, slightly alarmed. Phil, however, barely bats an eye before answering.

“Dan’s my best friend,” He begins, throwing a glance over at the man in question, an uncertain look on his face. “I don’t think I’ve ever had this amount of undeniable support from another human. Family’s different, since they have to care about you, I guess, but Dan just always has, no matter what. We…” he glances at Dan suddenly, as if he’s not sure he’s allowed to say something. Dan shrugs, unsure what he’s about to hear, but his heart is already racing from the few words Phil has shared. “We had a rough patch towards the start of our friendship, but we got through it, and I don’t think we would have if it wasn’t for the mutual support.” He’s quiet when he finishes, and he won’t bring his eyes to meet Dan’s, instead staring down at the engagement band on Dan’s hand, which is still resting on his knee.

Hazel hums, writing as she glances at Dan, waiting for his response. He clears his throat, unsure how to follow that. He knows what Phil is referring to, obviously. He nearly dropped out of university not very long into their friendship, and if it hadn’t been for Phil, Dan probably would have done something very stupid in the aftermath of all that. Swallowing hard, he knows what he should say.

“Phil’s talking about me almost dropping out of uni,” He says slowly, not missing the surprised look Phil shoots him. Dan smiles, moving his hand so that it’s resting against Phil’s, turning his gaze back to Hazel. “I was in a really bad place and wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life, but Phil was there, letting me stay in his apartment and cry over all the stuff going wrong in my life. But, more recently…” He takes a deep breath, and Phil seems to realize what he’s about to say, because he suddenly shifts closer, holding onto Dan’s hand tightly.

“Dan…” He begins, his voice soft, nearly a warning.

“It’s fine.” He assures him, glancing down at their hands. “This might be taking it a lot deeper than what you were intending,” he pauses to laugh awkwardly, noticing the confused smile on Hazel’s face. “I have depression, have had since I was basically a kid. I didn’t realize it for a long time, but when I finally went to see someone, it was because of Phil. He said, ‘There are things I want you to have that you don't realize are waiting for you.' And I, ” He swallows hard, forcing the lump in his throat away. “I know that, now. I think.” The last few words come out in a barely audible rasp, delivered straight to his shoes. Sure, Phil knew how much he did for Dan, but Dan wasn’t sure he fully realized how much it still meant to him.

The room is quiet for the longest ten seconds of Dan’s life. He’s genuinely afraid to see Hazel’s reaction. Surely that was too much, she’s going to tell him he needs to go, there’s no way they’d ever be able to foster, he’s fucked it all-

“I had a few more questions, but I don’t think I need the answers.” Hazel says quietly. Dan glances up at her, his face full of panic. She notices this and shakes her head slowly. “No, Dan.” She lets out a slow breath. “Not in a bad way.”

“Oh,” He exhales shakily. Phil looks just as confused as he feels, staring at Dan with an unplaceable mood on his face.

“I feel like I have a pretty good grasp of the kind of people you both are. You both have wonderful hearts, and I’m absolutely stunned by the amount of love you have for each other. And that’s a rare and heartening thing for me to see in my line of work.” She smiles, but Dan’s having a hard time hearing the rest of what she’s saying, his mind playing over a single word. “I have a lot of confidence that you will be cleared for fostering. I think you’re both well equipped to handle the struggles that come with raising a child, and I have good faith that you two will do a wonderful job together.”

Dan opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and he snaps it shut, swallowing hard. He nods numbly, glancing at Phil.

“Thank you, Hazel.” The older man says gently, his smile real. “That really means a lot, to both of us.” He tightens his grip on Dan’s hand, probably without realizing it.

“Of course.” Hazel waves off his thanks before standing, drawing the meeting to a close. As they shake her hand in turn, she speaks again. “I’ll be in contact soon to confirm a date for the first home visit, but I’ll be giving your case special attention. I think any child would be lucky to be under your care, and I hope to get you guys cleared and ready for fostering within as little time as possible.” She smiles genuinely, and Dan feels himself tearing up yet again.

“Thank you,” He manages wetly.

“Well, it was great to see the both of you again. I’ll email you the details of the home visit within the next week or so.” With that, Hazel dismisses them, smiling broadly, and Dan follows Phil out of her office quietly. They walk through the lobby, and Dan’s surprised when he hears the receptionist speak to them.

“Have a great day!” She chirps. Dan smiles weakly at her. Phil winds an arm around Dan’s waist, guiding him out of the building.

They walk to the car in silence, but when they’re there, Phil looks at Dan in concern. “Do you want me to drive?” He asks, pointing to the keys that are dangling from Dan’s finger.

Dan shakes his head once before glancing up at Phil, his heart beating rapidly from the excitement of how well that meeting had gone. He can’t keep his eyes off of Phil, scanning him for the same emotion that’s frozen his face in permanent jubilation.

"You'll kill us both," he says. "Can't have that, now." He takes both of Phil's hands in his own, squeezing them tightly as his smile broadens. "I can’t believe what she said," he says, his voice breathless.

Phil studies him for a second, his blue eyes intense as they travel over Dan’s face, to his hands being squeezed within an inch of their death. Evidently, he finds no reason to panic, because a smile stretches across his face and he pulls Dan into a hug. “I know.” He whispers into Dan’s curls, his arms wrapping around him tightly while Dan’s find their way around the older man’s waist. They stand like that for only a moment before Phil is pulling away, his smile still on his face. “Chinese takeaway to celebrate?” He suggests easily, looking hopeful.

Dan can’t help but laugh and shake his head at his childish ways, nodding to the car. “We’ll see.” Is all he says in response.

---

After indulging in some Chinese takeaway and a few episodes of Buffy, Dan’s just on the edge of sleep when he remembers they probably needed to discuss the situation with Phil’s work.

“Hey, Phil?” He says softly from his spot on the opposite end of the sofa. His legs were spread out over Phil’s lap as usual, and the older man was absently tracing small circles along Dan’s calf, where his pajamas had been pushed up with his left hand, while his right was trailing along on the trackpad of his MacBook perched on the arm of the sofa.

“Yeah?” Phil responds, glancing down at him before his eyes trail back to the screen. Dan could barely make out what looked like a spreadsheet on his laptop, too tired to really strain to see for sure what it was he was working on. Phil was a producer at BBC Radio 1, which Dan was always equally proud and jealous of. With his degree in video post-production, Dan always knew he was going to do something cool, and this was definitely cool.

“Do you want to talk about earlier?” Dan asks, getting straight to the point. He was tired, he didn’t want to sit up talking about it for very long if he could help it, so he felt it was best to just go ahead and talk about it now.

Phil looks over at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “About what?” He asks, pushing his glasses up. It seems to dawn on him before Dan can even get another word in, and he looks surprised. “About what I told Hazel? Dan, I’m sorry, I didn’t even think-”

Dan shakes his head, cutting him off. “No, I meant the thing with PJ from earlier.” He shifts so that he’s lying on his back rather than his side, staring up at the ceiling. “I thought you might want to talk about that.”

“Oh,” is all Phil responds with. Dan waits for a moment, and when he doesn’t say anything else, he props himself up on his elbows, quirking a brow at Phil, who has gone back to looking at his laptop. Sensing Dan’s change in position, he looks back over at him. “What?”

Rolling his eyes, Dan gestures to the laptop. “Wanna close that for a minute so we can have a discussion?” he snaps.

Phil frowns, glancing at the screen once more. “Dan, I need to finish this by tomorrow. We can talk while I do this.”

“No, we can’t.” Dan groans, sitting up further and leaning towards the laptop, with every intention of closing it. “You’re not even listening to me.”

“Dan!” Phil snaps, shoving his hand away and shooting a glare at him. “Leave it, okay? I need to finish this.” He studies Dan for a second before shaking his head, not so subtly shifting the laptop further out of Dan’s reach.

Dan huffs before swinging his legs off Phil’s lap and standing. “Whatever.”

“Wh- Dan. Come on,” Phil sighs, looking almost offended that Dan had moved.

“I’m trying to talk to you about something you were so worked up about earlier, and you’re not fucking listening, at all. Sorry if I don’t wanna just sit here and be ignored,” he says in annoyance, picking up his empty wine glass from the coffee table, as well as his phone. “I’m going to bed.”

“Dan,” Phil groans, closing the laptop finally. “Fine. Come here. We’ll talk.” He sounds resigned, and for some reason his tone just rubs Dan the wrong way and he doesn’t even feel inclined to talk anymore. He just wants to go to their room and pout.

“Nope. Don’t let me inconvenience you. Your work is very important, don’t let me get in the way.” He says in a mocking tone as he makes his way downstairs, part of him hoping Phil doesn’t follow but the other part practically begging him to.

That part wins out, because as Dan is walking into their room, he hears the sound of Phil turning the lights off and coming downstairs. Dan makes no indication of noticing this, going to plug his phone into the charger on his nightstand, double checking that his alarm is set before climbing into his side of the bed. Phil steps into the room, laptop in one hand and charger in the other.

“Okay, I’m here, no distractions. Let’s have this discussion.” Phil announces, setting his laptop on his own bedside table, crossing his arms as he looks down at Dan.

Shrugging, Dan rolls over to face downward, groaning loudly. He knew it was childish, but he was petty, and a little bit hurt. Granted, Phil probably did have serious work to do, but that didn’t stop Dan from being upset.

“Dan,” Phil says firmly, his voice holding a tone of warning. “You’re acting like a child.”

“And you were acting like a dick.” He responds, still face down. He feels the bed dip as Phil climbs in, and since Dan is expecting the shifting of Phil settling on his own side, he nearly screams when he feels a hand on his neck. “No!” He gasps, trying to smack the hand away, to no use. “That’s- illegal!”

Phil is relentless as he tries, and for the most part succeeds, in tickling Dan. “Sorry, can’t hear you, Dan.” He taunts pleasantly as he continues pressing his fingers to Dan’s neck, ducking to tickle his side when Dan presses his head to his shoulder.

He’s giggling too much to really formulate a good argument, but he finally shifts so that Phil can no longer attack that side. Instead, he’s on his back, staring up into Phil’s mischievous, blue eyes. Which, might’ve been a mistake, given Phil takes the opportunity to dive for his stomach, which he begins tickling mercilessly, rucking up Dan’s t-shirt in the process.

“Stop! Stop! I surrender!” Dan shouts breathlessly, feeling tears falling from his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath.

Phil must realize he’s had enough, because he sits back on his heels, smiling with his tongue poking out, clearly proud of himself. Dan pouts, but he’s just barely containing a smile. “There we go. I like you better when you’re not pouting.” Phil says jokingly.

Dan rolls his eyes, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “Yeah, well,” he shrugs, shoving his curls up off his forehead. “I like you better when you’re not ignoring me.” He reminds him casually, quirking an eyebrow at Phil.

Sighing, Phil nods, shifting so that he’s in the same position as Dan, tugging the sheet and duvet over their legs. “Fair enough. I’m sorry I was ignoring you. I know you wanted to talk about what happened.” Dan stays quiet, giving Phil space to speak. “Honestly, though? I’m over it. I know I was upset after it happened, but now that I’ve had time to cool down, I don’t even know why I was upset. They would have found out eventually, and it’s not like you’re the worst person for people to think I’m engaged to.” He says casually, smirking at Dan as he says this.

Snorting, Dan shoves his shoulder against Phil’s. “Thanks, mate. Really feel appreciated now,” he teases.

Phil throws himself across Dan’s lap then, bringing a hand up to his forehead dramatically. “Oh, Daniel, whatever would I do without you!” He opens one eye, grinning up at his very unamused best friend. “How’s that?” He asks with a smirk.

“Get off me,” Dan laughs, shoving at Phil’s shoulder. They sit in silence together for a moment before he finally speaks again. “I’m sorry I was acting like a brat. You know how I get when I don’t have your attention.” He mutters, only realizing how pathetic that sounds after he’s already said it. He shifts to lay down then, in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

Phil doesn’t move from his position, but he drops his hand to Dan’s curls, running a hand through his hair gently. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have been paying attention to you.” He sounds completely genuine, and Dan sighs contently, partly from their resolved argument and partly from the good feeling of having someone pet his hair. He loved having his hair played with, and it felt great to have Phil’s long fingers running through the curls.

“So, you’re not upset about them finding out?” He asks then, folding his hands together over his stomach.

“No, not really. I wish I could have told them instead of them finding out the way they did, but it’s fine.” Phil responds. “But what about Louise? How did she find out?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“Ugh,” Dan groans, bringing an arm up to throw across his face, hiding his eyes. “Don’t even get me started on Louise. I swear to god if I have to hear her ask who bottoms one more time, I’m going to shoot myself.”

Phil laughs loudly at this, pulling his hand away from Dan’s hair, drawing a whine of protest from his lips. Rolling his eyes, Phil leans over to grab his laptop as Dan shoots him a glare, removing his arm from his face to do so. “You’re so dramatic. And whiny, when you don’t get your way.” He informs him, opening his laptop to resume his work, his left hand again falling to Dan’s hair.

Dan hums contently, closing his eyes. “Feels nice,” he murmurs after a few minutes, feeling just on the verge of sleep. A low laugh comes from beside him, but otherwise Phil doesn’t respond. Before he can fully let himself sleep, though, Dan feels that he needs to ask an important question. “Phil,” he calls softly, uncertain how clear his voice is, given he’s basically half-asleep.

“Bear?” Phil replies just as quietly, making Dan wonder if he’d heard him right. It had been a while since he’d heard Phil call him that.

After a minute of trying to remember what it was he had wanted to say, Dan licks his lips. “What’re you going to tell your parents?”

Phil’s hand pauses, making Dan open his eyes, glancing over at the older man. “I’m not sure yet.” He whispers. He’s focusing on his screen, but Dan doubts he’s seeing anything.

Without much thought, Dan reaches up and grabs Phil’s hand that had fallen from his hair, bringing it to his mouth to kiss softly. “You’ll figure it out.” He says softly. Subtly, he places Phil’s hand gingerly back in the curls atop his head, closing his eyes again. “I told my mum the truth, since I knew she wouldn’t spread it around the family, but if you want to tell your parents the story version, you can.” Dan whispers, almost incoherently.

“Yeah?” Phil asks softly, his hand resuming their gentle moments. “You wouldn’t mind them thinking we’re engaged?”

“Mm. No. I love your family, and I’m pretty sure they like me too. They can think whatever you want them to.” He says slowly, trying hard to fight the sleep that’s threatening to drag him under.

“Hm. Okay. I’ll call mum tomorrow and talk to her.” Phil finally says.

“M’kay. Tell Kath I said hello.” He murmurs.

Phil laughs softly, and Dan almost thinks he hears the shutter of a phone camera, but he could be imagining it. “Okay. Go to sleep now, bear. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Mhm. Night Philly.”

Just as he drifts off, he hears Phil respond with laughter in his voice. “Night, Danny.”

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