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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

Valentine’s Day Blues

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: In the midst of planning Valentine’s Day and his brothers party, Tom forgets your birthday

happy birthday to @bluelilly21 !! 🥳

Masterlist

The first time you met Tom, you were crashing his brothers birthday party. In your defense, it was Valentine’s Day, as well as your birthday, and you didn’t want to be alone. So when your best friend said she was going with her boyfriend to some party, you tagged along.

“Hey mate. Thanks for the party. We’re gonna be heading out soon.” Tuwaine shouted over the music of Harry and Sam’s birthday party.

“Thanks so much for coming.” Tom said as he pulled him into a hug. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“You too, mate. Wait one second.” Tuwaine turned around and found his girlfriend in the crowd. “I want you to meet my girlfriend”.

“Hi. I’m Yara.” A girl came from behind Tuwaine and put her hand out to shake Tom’s.

“And I’m bored.” You announced as you stumbled into Yara’s arms. “Can we go, please?”

“In a minute.” She laughed as she held you up. “I haven’t said goodbye to everyone yet.”

“But I did and if I stick around it’ll be awkward.” You whined in her ear, making Tom laugh. Yara gave Tom a look that told him this wasn’t her first time having to take care of you.

“I said my goodbyes already. I could stay with you until Yara is done.” Tom offered. You picked your head off of Yara’s shoulder and squinted at Tom, finally noticing that he was standing there.

“Yeah. Why don’t you stay with Tom?” Yara spoke in a motherly tone as she helped you stand up straight.

“But I don’t know him.” You whispered to her, just loud enough for Tom to hear. He understood you not wanting to be left alone with a stranger while drunk, so he didn’t take any offense to it.

“He’s Tuwaine’s best friend.” She assured you. “I wouldn’t leave you alone with someone I didn’t trust.”

“Okay.” You sighed before facing Tom. “But don’t try anything. I have a gun.”

“She doesn’t.” Yara whispered behind her hand. “Play nice.”

“Bite me.” You nipped at her, making her laugh.

“I will.” She smiled and pulled you into a hug. “Love you, girl.”

“Love you.” You mumbled before letting her go. She disappeared back into the crowd, leaving you alone with Tom. You were a little too drunk to remember your manners, so you just stared at him, unapologetically sizing him up.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Tom.” Tom reached out to shake your hand.

“Y/n.” You told him as you dapped him up. Tom laughed a little at your movement and checked you out.

“How come I haven’t seen you before?” He asked, taking a step closer so you could hear him over the music.

“Excuse me.” You put on a voice. “I am homeless. I am gay. I have AIDS. And I’m new in town.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Tom frowned. “Do you need a place to sleep tonight?”

“Dude, I’m joking.” You laughed in shock. “Haven’t you heard of John Mulaney?”

“No.” Tom shook his head. “Is he your friend?”

“He’s a comedian.” You said like it was obvious. “Don’t they have comedy in England?”

“Our teeth are pretty funny looking.” Tom shrugged, making you smile.

“Hm.” You looked him up and down. “Cute and funny.”

“So how much of what you just told me was true?” Tom asked as he took a sip of his drink.

“Nothing except for the fact that I’m new in town.” You seemed to sober up a little. “But Yara and I go way back.”

“Same with me and Tuwaine.”

“I know. He’s been talking you up to me for a year now.” You chuckled as you pulled a water bottle out of your bag.

“Has he?” Tom raised an eyebrow. “What did he say?”

“That what you lack in height you make up for in charm.” You insulted him flirtatiously.

“What’s the verdict?” Tom stepped closer again. “Was he right?”

“You’d really let me sleep at your place if I was homeless?” You questioned him and you decided whether you liked him or not.

“I would.”

“Well, then he was right.” You batted your eyelashes and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “You’re definitely short.”

“Damn.” Tom shook his head as you pulled away laughing.

“I’m sorry.” You chuckled. “But you’re pretty charming as well.”

“Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” Tom flirted.

“Guess what?” You went up on your tip toes to whisper in his ear. “It’s my birthday today.”

“Is it really?” He asked. “It’s my brothers birthday too.”

“Isn’t this their party?” You realized, and Tom nodded. “I hope you don’t mind I tagged along with Yara. I just broke up with my boyfriend and I didn’t want to be alone.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Tom told you. “I’m sorry about your breakup. Now that I know you’re single, you know what it really makes me want to do?”

“What’s that?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Get you a cab and make sure you get home safe.” Tom smiled softly as you as he gave you a comforting squeeze on your arm.

“That would be lovely.” You said in appreciation. You took Tom by the hand and began to walk with him towards the exit. “I’m glad I met you Tom.”

“I’m glad I met you too, darling.”

You didn’t kiss him that night, though you wanted to. It took about a month of knowing each other for you to finally kiss him. But once you did, you were inseparable.

It was a full year since the party, meaning yours and the twins birthday had come around again. It was also Valentine’s Day, your very first one with Tom. You woke up before him and walked into the kitchen, smiling at the dozen roses he had set on the table. Next to the roses was a box of chocolates at your spot at the kitchen table, but no birthday card. You furrowed your eyebrows a little but didn’t have time to think about it when your phone rang. You answered it and thanked the person for the birthday wishes as Tom entered the room.

“Sorry.” You smiled as you put your phone down. “I had a phone call.”

“Good morning. Happy Valentine’s days.” Tom’s voice was husky with sleep as he pulled you into a long kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too.” You smiled against his lips before kissing him again.

“I have to call my brothers before I forget.” Tom kissed your forehead before pulling away. “Then I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Yeah.” You narrowed your eyes at him to see if he was joking. “You wouldn’t want to forget a birthday.”

Tom didn’t take the hint as your phone began to ring again.

“Your phone is ringing again?” He raised his eyebrows. “Someone’s popular.”

“I guess I am.” You mumbled, realizing that he had indeed forgotten. You took your phone call and tried to give Tom the benefit of the doubt. It was his brothers birthday, after all. Maybe he was just waiting to say it to them first. You came back to the kitchen after the call just as Tom was putting pancakes on the table.

“There you are.” He grinned and made grabby hands at you. “I want to spend every second together until the party. It kinda sucks our first Valentine’s Day together is also my brothers birthday. I’d rather spend the day with you.”

“It’s okay.” You shrugged sadly. “Birthdays are important.”

“I know.” He ironically agreed. “Maybe we can leave early and have some alone time.”

“Sure baby.” You faked a smile. “Let’s just eat, okay?”

You didn’t want to fight with him, especially on Valentine’s Day, so you made peace and sat down with him to eat breakfast. You were hurt that he had forgotten your birthday, but he at least remembered Valentine’s Day. You decided that that was better than nothing and tried to push it from your mind.

Tom had a few last minute errands to run before his brothers party, which you were slightly relieved about. You didn’t really want to spend the day with him after he forgot your birthday. He kissed you goodbye multiple times, harping on how sorry he was to leave you on Valentine’s Day. You sighed deeply once he left, feeling tears threaten your eyes in his absence. Every time he mentioned the party or Valentine’s Day, you were reminded that he had forgotten about you.

Tom came home once you had already started getting ready. You had your dress on and were talking a phone call as he got dressed.

“Are you almost ready to go, love?” Tom asked as he buttoned his shirt.

“One minute.” You mouthed as you pointed to your phone. The conversation finished up quickly and you hung up.

“Did someone leak your phone number or something?” Tom wondered. “It’s been going off all day.”

“Oh, you know.” You shrugged, not wanting to start something. “It’s a special occasion.”

“Valentine’s day is not that special.” He laughed as he came behind you to look in the mirror. “But you look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You smiled tightly as you put in your earrings. Tom went in to kiss you, but you moved so he’s only get your cheek. He clocked your strange behavior but shrugged it off as he grabbed his keys.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH!” Yara screamed from across the room when she saw you at the party. She ran to you and threw her arms around you, squeezing you tightly. She kissed both your cheeks before placing a tiara on your head.

“There. So everyone knows you’re the birthday girl.” She smiled proudly as she fixed your hair.

“Thank you.” You grinned as you squeezed her hands. “I appreciate you.”

“Well it’s my best friends birthday. I had to do something.” She shrugged playfully. “What did Tom get you?”

“Tom forgot.” You blurted, trying to keep a straight face. “He hasn’t said anything yet.”

“What?” Yara’s face fell. “He threw his brothers this party but didn’t even wish you a happy birthday?”

“There’s a lot going on today.” You tried to defend him. “He wished me a happy Valentine’s Day. And he got me roses.”

“It’s your birthday.” She didn’t let up. “It is his girlfriends birthday. He should know that.”

“It’s okay.” You shrugged it off, but she could tell you were upset.

“It’s not.” She didn’t let up. “Where is he now?”

“Last time I saw him, he was with Tuwaine.” You told her. “I didn’t really want to be around him right now.”

“Good.” Yara nodded as she fixed your hair. “Leave him be until he figures it out.”

“Is that the birthday girl?” A familiar voice came from behind you, making you smile.

“Happy birthday, you two.” You greeted Sam and Harry as you handed them separate birthday cards.

“Happy birthday to you too, princess.” Harry teased as he flicked your tiara. They pulled you into a group hug that lingered while Sam rubbed your back.

“This is for you.” Sam handed you a card.

“And this is from us.” Harry winked as he handed you a small black box.

“Thanks guys.” You smiled in appreciation. “I put your gifts in the back room. Should I get them?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sam waved his hand. “Open it.”

You opened the box and found a thin black brackets with a straight metal pendant. The pendant had dots and lines going across it, making you look at the twins in confusion.

“It says “Holland” is Morse code. We have them too.” Harry explained as he showed you his matching bracelet.

“It’s to show that you’re part of our family now.” Sam added. “So people know you’re our sister.”

“Thats…” ,you stared at the bracelet for a moment, feeling sentimental tears coming to your eyes, “that’s really sweet, guys. Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

You pulled them into another group hug before letting them get back to their party.

“They remembered.” Yara gave you a pointed look.

“I should probably get back to the party.” You changed the subject, not wanting to sit in self pity. “Thank you for the tiara. You’re the best best friend I could ask for.”

“You’re welcome.” Yara told you as she hugged you tightly. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry your boyfriend is dumb.”

You gave her a look before heading back to the main area of the party. The second you saw Tom, you felt a disappointment in your stomach. He was laughing and having a good time while you were upset. You wished you didn’t care as much as you did, but you were hurt. He had forgotten your birthday and didn’t seem to care.

“Hey. There you are.” Tom smiled when he spotted you, already tipsy as he tried to hug you. “Are you enjoying the party?”

“Yeah.” You said flatly and moved away from him. “I’m gonna go get a drink.”

Tom pouted briefly at your odd behavior as Yara and a friend of yours approached him.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Your friend, KC, shouted over the music.

“She just left to get a drink.” Tom told her. “She’ll be back soon.”

“Good.” KC nodded. “I have to wish her happy birthday. I called her first thing this morning but I want to tell her in person.”

“It’s my brothers birthday, actually.” Tom corrected her. “They’re over by the pool table.”

“I know.” She laughed shortly. “But it’s Y/n’s birthday too.”

“She’s a Valentine’s baby.” Yara said sweetly while shooting daggers at Tom. “Isn’t that so cute?”

“What?” Tom jutted his head back. “It’s not her birthday. Her birthday is-“

“Today.” KC raised an eyebrow at Tom. “Did you not know?”

“I think he knew.” Yara stated with a hand on her hip. “He just forgot.”

“Oh no. I’m such an asshole.” Tom covered his mouth with his hand. “I can’t believe I forgot her birthday.”

“She couldn’t believe it either.” Yara shrugged. “You’re not gonna live this one down. This is exactly what happened last time.”

“Don’t say that.” KC said in a hushed tone, making Tom grow concerned.

“What do you mean?” Toms eyes darted between the two of them. “What happened last time?”

“Her ex did this last year and she was totally devastated.” KC told him. “He texted her “happy v day” and did nothing all day. They didn’t last a day after that.”

“Really? That’s why they broke up?” Tom began to panic. He knew about the ex, but you had never told him why you broke up.

“Yeah. She felt ignored.” Yara said unsympathetically towards Tom. “She was crying at my apartment until I brought her to your brothers party. That’s when you met, dummy.”

“Oh no.” Tom whined and looked around for you. “Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

“I’m not so sure.” KC shook her head.

“Why do you say that?” Tom panicked at her confidence.

“Because I’m pretty sure she just left.” KC said as she pointed behind Tom. Tom wiped around right as you walked out the door. Harry and Sam were standing near by, still waving to you as you left. Tom rushed over to them, already seeing the disappointment on their faces before he got there.

“Dude, what did you do?” Harry asked, a little annoyed with Tom. “You didn’t wish Y/n a happy birthday?”

“You literally met on her birthday last year.” Sam added. “How could you forget that?”

“I don’t know!” Tom groaned, angry with himself. “It completely slipped my mind. I got her chocolates and roses though.”

“For Valentine’s Day.” Harry interjected. “Not her birthday. You’ve been together for almost a year and you didn’t wish her happy birthday. That’s cold, mate.”

“What did she say to you guys?” Tom asked. “Was she upset?”

“She was crying.” Sam told him, making Tom hang his head in shame.

“I gotta go.” Tom decided. “I have to make it up to her.”

“You can try.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t really think she wants to talk to you.”

“And I don’t really blame her.” Sam mumbled under her breath. Tom let out another sigh before getting his things and leaving the party. He stopped by the store to get a few things before driving home to you.

Once Tom got home, he peered around a wall and found you sitting on the couch reading a book. He took a deep breath before putting on his most apologetic smile.

“Happy birthday.” Tom said weakly as he presented you with a cupcake. He sat down on the couch next to you but you didn’t budge.

“Who told you?” You asked without looking up. Tom sighed and set the cupcake on the coffee table so he could talk to you.

“Yara.” He admitted, and you nodded like you were expecting that. You continued to read your book, putting a nervous feeling in Toms stomach.

“I’m so sorry, princess.” He apologized as he put a hand on your knee. “I completely forgot.”

“I noticed.” You replied coldly, removing his hand.

“How can I make it up to you?” He asked sweetly, hoping you’d give a little.

“It’s fine.” You sighed. “There was a lot going on today. It’s Valentine’s Day and it’s your brothers birthday. And hey, at least you remembered those.”

“It’s not fine.” He frowned. “I can tell you’re upset. I’m so sorry.”

You finally put your book down and stared straight ahead, not knowing what you wanted to say yet.

“I am upset.” You said, like you were admitting it to yourself. “And I’m not sure why.”

“Because I forgot your birthday.” Tom reminded you quietly.

“But it’s only your first offense.” You thought out loud. “This is just strike one.”

“What?” Tom furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m not following, love.”

“I’m trying to say that you’ve been a really good boyfriend so far.” You finally looked at him. “You pay attention and communicate your feelings and go out of your way to make me happy. You have been a picture perfect boyfriend for the past year and all the sudden…”

“I fucked up.” Tom finished your sentence for you. You laughed softly and nodded.

“Yeah.” You agreed. “So I’m not sure how to react. On the one hand, you forgot my birthday. On the other hand, you were busy all day getting me roses and chocolates and throwing an amazing party for your brothers because that’s the kind of guy you are. Should I be mad that you’re so thoughtful that you took too much on?”

“Are you asking me?” He laughed a little.

“I am.” You softened up and smiled at him. “Because I don’t know what to do. I’m upset you forgot my birthday, but I also know why you forgot. So I’m at a bit of a crossroads right now.”

“Well, the party was no excuse to forget.” Tom didn’t let himself off the hook. “I should have remembered.”

“Yes, you should have.” You agreed. “But this has happened to me before. And the last time it happened, I didn’t get an apology and a cupcake.”

“Yara told me about your ex.” Tom said softly as he put his hand on your knee again. This time, you let him. “I’m not like him.”

“I know you’re not.” You smiled weakly. “You’ve spent the past year proving to me that you’re nothing like him. So yes, I’m upset. But I’m also ready to forgive you.”

“You are?” He asked hopefully, leaning closer to silently ask for a kiss.

“I am.” You accepted his kiss and he smiled in relief. “Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” He promised. “Thank you for forgiving me. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled at him. “Now give me that cupcake.”

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hellothere-generalangsty · 3 years

Text

Fives - Anchor

Pairing: Fives x reader

Word Count: 1450 words

CW/ TW: Angst; mourning/loss, death, letter, anniversary, pain, brooding, it’s very heavy and sensitive so please proceed with caution and let me know if I didn’t TW something you deemed necessary; also a bit more hopeful/ light toward the end because my heart couldn’t handle that much sadness tonight

Tags: @chaoticvampirejedi @loth-wolffe @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @tacticalsparkles @imalovernotahater @canwestayinthisdream @wakeupjackthisisntfair @namesmox @badbatch-simp24 @lightning-wolffe @maddieskywalker @for-the-love-of-clones @m-e-w-117 @99squad

@ladykatakuri @firelordillyria @andiebell2023

Notes: I guess I missed him a lot tonight… Sorry for the pain

Some elements included in this fic are inspired from chats I had with @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s ; thank you little moon for being an inspiration to me 🌙

Iridescent - Linkin Park

0000.

Happy anniversary Fives.

Though I don’t see how it could be happy, when you’re everywhere but here. I never grew used to your absence, I never could; not when you’re haunting my every move, haunting this place and this world, finding your way back to me through faint memories and thousand of faces walking up to my office every day, asking me about my day and if I feel well.

I have to look at the ghost of you, every single time, and lie.

“I’m fine. What can I do for you?”

And I hear your voice again, and again. It tells me about the pain running through your back, the nightmares hitting harder than usual, and the fear eating you alive every time you get out of your hard, cold bed.

But it’s not you. It never is. I never could be.

I stopped buying your shampoo. I couldn’t even bring myself to finish the bottle we had in the shower. It’s still there, hidden somewhere in the bathroom, waiting to be emptied and thrown away carelessly, in such a mundane way one could so easily forget about it. But I can’t throw it away; it’s not mundane anymore.

I hid the jewels too, except for the bracelet. I hate to wear it, but I hate even more to put it away. I just feel…I feel naked when I don’t have it, and empty when I do. I can’t help but see you – feel you – through the shades of blue and black. What was once the purest blessing turned into the worst curse, and I can’t break it. I almost did – breaking the bracelet. I almost did.

I could if I really wanted to; but then I would lose you again, and I just…

I gave your aprons to the boys. I couldn’t stand to see them, neatly hanging in the kitchen. They were silly anyway, and I had no use for them. I’m a doctor after all, not a cook.

I published my thesis on the clones’ rights, and it is being presented to the Senate by Senator Amidala as we speak. I told her I wouldn’t be able to be there for her discourse, and she simply hugged me. I wish she hadn’t.

0527.

It’s been a year, yet it feels like yesterday. Everyone moved on; everyone but me, and I can’t help but be mad. I am mad that they forgot so easily about you, that they brushed you off as “another collateral damage”, another…clone. It’s the way they say it when they try to comfort me.

You were more than a clone. More than a soldier, and more than a man.

You were Fives.

You were my anchor, and I was your ocean.

I miss the way you said it. Coming home to me, tired, features drained and eyes darkened by the horrors of your latest campaign; but always soft and caring through the hoarseness of your voice as you whispered it against my skin. You always found a way to be there for me; for everyone, even when you were losing yourself in your own prison.

I am mad at you because of that. Because you couldn’t stand back for once, be egoistic and think of yourself instead of trying to play the hero in the dark. They killed you because you didn’t wait, not even when I asked you – begged you to. I am so angry because I called you an idiot, and all you could answer me was “I love you too, my ocean. My anchor.”

You didn’t even let me say it back.

1134.

I am mad at myself. You trusted me enough to tell me everything, and you knew I would believe you. And when you tried to do something about it, I called you an idiot. I wasn’t even there with you; I should have been there with you. I could have saved you.

Fives…

I remember the first time you came home. At the time, it was still “my place”, but the moment you stepped in it stopped being mine only. I always told you to come by if you needed; and the one time you did, we ended up laughing so hard the neighbour had to knock at the door. But it felt good. I guess that day I gave you a part of myself, and you carried it with you ever since. I suppose it died with you, too.

I know I shouldn’t be so broody; I can almost hear you, your chuckles filling the room, your hands pressing down my shoulders as you tell me “it’s a celebration, smile for me!”; and the smell of that shampoo tickling my nose as you come close to lay a kiss on my cheek…

But now the only thing I can feel are the tears, and that twisting ache in my chest, burning my skin and ripping my lungs apart. I can’t even breathe correctly anymore, I…

1745.

I’m sorry I had you waiting.

I fell asleep on the table, and woke up because of the cold. It’s always cold in here now. I borrowed one of your old sweatshirt - I hope you don’t mind. I kept them. I almost gave them to the boys, along with the aprons; but then I thought they could always come in handy.

They do. When days like today happens; days where I feel too lonely, where I miss you too much and it just feels too cold, I slip into one and hold it so close to me it almost feels like you’re here. My arms become yours, your faint perfume comes back to me fresh and soft, and I sometimes swear I can feel your warmth against my skin. I close my eyes when I do that, and it stops being a dream for a second.

For just a second, you’re back. You never truly left.

And when I open my eyes again; when I realise what it is all about, I still feel you. I see the bracelet, smell the black tissue, watch one of these B movie we used to laugh at and somehow I feel the best and worst I’ve felt in a long time.

I wish you were here. I wish I could tell you how much I missed you and how beautiful you are; if I could hold you tight, one last time... I didn’t even get to hug you one last time. I didn’t know it would be it; else I wouldn’t have let you go.

Echo is supposed to come around today. He told me he would. He didn’t forget about you either, you know. Neither did Rex, or Jesse, or Kix. Your vode didn’t forget about you. They always make sure to keep you alive, tell everyone about you and remember them of who you were.

Echo always says you’re his best friend. He never uses the past tense. I can’t blame him; I still say you’re the love of my life whenever people ask me. I guess we know deep down these things will never change. We don’t want it to change.

Wait, someone knocked.

2226.

When was the last time we laughed like that? For once, we turned the tears into something better; lighter. I’m sure you would be proud of us.

Of course, you would be proud of us.

It almost feels good to see you through Echo; to find glimpses of you in his smile, the faint spark in his eyes when he retells your best pranks, and the way he chuckles...I almost feel at home right now. With you. Not quite, but close enough.

Enough to make me smile, for the first time today.

Echo says hi. He’s watching me writing to you. He asked me to tell you that Rex lit a candle for you this morning, and the boys had a little something for you; but I can’t know what; apparently I “wouldn’t understand anyway”. So I hope – we hope – that you liked it. We’re probably going to watch a bad movie and mock the poor acting until we fall asleep, and tomorrow we will…We’ll probably think of you again, but hopefully there won’t be as much tears as today.

I guess it’s a battle worth fighting. Not for the Republic or the Greater Good; not for the Senate or the Chancellor. Not for the Jedis or the Galaxy.

No, it’s a battle we fight for you, Fives. Let us be your anchor, for once, and rest easy now, because more than anything or anyone else out there… you deserve it.

2359.

Happy anniversary Fives.

I love you too, my Anchor.

- Your Ocean.

#star wars #the clone wars #tcw #fives #arc trooper fives #letter #echo #arc trooper echo #fives x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #fives my beloved #Sad Hour for Fives #again i am sorry for the pain #mesa writes #tcw fic #sw fic

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doctorstethoscope · 3 years

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The Right Chapter 3 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Hey gang, I wanted to give y’all another update this week because I know there wasn’t a lot of hotch in the last chapter. This is a long one!

Read previous chapters here!

wordcount: 3.6k

warnings: canon-typical harassment and violence, swearing

tagging: @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee

It’s closer to the afternoon than the morning when you finally get out of bed the next day. Aaron had set you up in his guest room before going to bed himself, and had dutifully woken you up every two hours. You emerged into the kitchen to see him sitting at the table with his laptop open, surely working even though he was technically out on sick leave.

“Good morning” he says when he sees you appear in the doorway. “The coffee’s still hot, if you want some. I don’t have any RedBull, though.”

You rolled your eyes as you crossed the kitchen to make yourself a cup. “Is it still morning? It feels like I must have slept through the whole day.”

“Well, you needed it. Long night.” He tells you, and you let out a little hum in response. “Hey, uh. Your cell phone is on the counter. It was making a lot of noise and I didn’t want it to wake you.” he admits sheepishly. “I didn’t read anything, but Josh’s name popped up a lot.”

You pouted a little. “I guess I did kind of just disappear. I probably owe him an explanation,” you said, crossing the kitchen and picking your phone up.

“You don’t owe him a god damned thing.” Hotch said a little harshly, but you knew his tone wasn’t aimed towards you.

You powered your phone on-- Hotch must have turned it on after he took it. 13 missed calls and 27 texts, sheesh. Not all of them are from Josh, thankfully. You shoot a quick text back to JJ, Garcia and Emily, who had all individually checked in when you didn’t show up at the office. With a little more trepidation, you opened up your thread with Josh.

“Where are you?”

“You never came to bed last night.”

“Off fucking the boss man?”

“Did I catch you before you got down to anything good?”

“Fucking slut.”

“Couldn’t even finish cleaning the carpet before you left.”

“Fucking answer me.”

“Did I bash your skull so hard that you forgot to pack my lunch before you left?”

“This is ridiculous.’

“So you’re just running away?”

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“You are so in for it when you get home.”

“I should have killed you.”

There’s more, but you’re not sure you can stomach it. You drop your phone to the counter, swallowing back a bit of bile that has risen up from your stomach. Aaron is at your side in an instant.

“Can I look?” He asked quietly. He’s looking you right in the eye but you feel like you can’t see him at all, like he’s not really there. You must have nodded your head, because he picked up your phone and started scrolling, but you have no way of knowing how you even told your body to do that. After a moment, he sets your phone face down on the counter, and turns to face you, placing a gentle hand on each of your upper arms. “We are going to figure it out, okay? You’re not in this alone, and I’m not going to let you get hurt again. You did the right thing. You got out. And now you have help.”

He’s staring into your eyes as he promises to keep you safe, and the dam breaks. All of the emotions that you’ve bottled up for the last ten hours are flooding through you, and you’re sobbing uncontrollably before you have even recognized how upset you really are. Aaron gathers you up in his arms in an instant, and you wrap your arms around him, crying into his old sweatshirt.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let it all out,” he whispers in a mantra, rubbing your back.

You realize in this moment that Aaron is truly your best friend-- you’d always known that you were closer to him than anyone else in the office, and the same was true for him, with the possible exception of Dave. What you hadn’t realized, is that somewhere along the way, your college friendships, your academy friendships, your girlfriends, had all faded into the background, and Aaron became the person you wanted to tell good news to, the person you drew comfort from, and the person you called when you realized you couldn’t get the blood out of the carpet. The realization surprises you, enough to let you get a few deep breaths in and calm yourself down, untucking from Aaron’s shoulder and dabbing at your eyes with your shirt sleeve.

“Thank you,” you say through your choked voice, even though it could never be enough.

“How’s your head?” He asked, looking over the top of your head to the clock on the stove to see if it was time for you to have more pain meds.

“Ah, well, I don’t think the crying really helped.” You shrugged, attempting to bring some levity back to the situation as you picked your phone back up.

“What are you doing?” Hotch asked, eyeing you and the phone.

“I’m calling Josh back.” You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Okay, now I’m sure you hit your head,” he said, swiping the phone out of your hand before you could place a call.

“Hotch--”

“Can you at least tell me why you want to do this?” He said, and you can see the concern etched into his face.

“I’ve got to go back at some point. I’m sure it’ll be easier for him to cool off if I’m not completely ignoring him in the meantime.”

“Go back? What are you talking about?” Aaron asked

“I live there, Hotchner. I can’t avoid him forever. Even if I move--”

“You’ll stay here. For as long as necessary. It’s not safe for you to go back there.” He says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Do I get a say in this at all?”

“Not if your only defense is that you don’t want someone else to take care of you. Because right now you need caring for, and I’m not letting you talk your way out of it.” Hotch said resolutely, and you sighed. The silence lingers for a moment before you speak up again, quietly.

“I could use some more pain meds.” You admitted.

“You shouldn’t take these on an empty stomach. Let’s get you some toast, drink your coffee to clear up your sinuses and then you can take your next dose and go back to bed.”

“Hotch, the day’s half over. I can’t go back to bed.” You argued, with significantly less heat behind it, lifting the steaming mug of coffee up to your face at his suggestion.

“It’s a sick day. You’re injured. You’re supposed to rest all day and let your body heal. You won’t be arguing with me once you’ve taken the pills.”

Hotch had tried to get you to take the rest of the week off, but you couldn’t stand the thought of sitting around in his apartment doing nothing. You also knew that an extended absence would catch the attention of your teammates-- and you weren’t sure if you were ready to share all of this with them yet. That was why you were perched in front of the mirror in Hotch’s guest room, liberally applying concealer and powder to your healing black eye. Aaron had made you promise to take it easy, and you already know he’d have eyes on you all day to make sure you weren’t overdoing it. No need to attract any more attention. There’s a soft knock from the hall.

“Come in,” you called.

“Hey,” Hotch said, swinging open the door. “We’ve got to leave in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be ready,” you assured him, dipping your brush into the powder before brushing it over your nose and cheekbone, wincing a little.

“When did you learn to do that?” Hotch asked softly.

“Hotch…” You responded softly.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t need to answer that.” He apologized, averting his gaze to the floor.

“If I answer, are you going to stop blaming yourself for not noticing?”

“I can’t promise you that.” He shakes his head.

“I wasn’t… I’m not a battered woman, Hotch.”

“Of course you aren’t.” He’s quick to affirm you, to make sure you know he doesn’t see you as a victim.

“No, I mean, this was excessive. Was he rough? Sure. Did he leave marks? Yeah, he did. But I wasn’t getting tossed around and beaten like that. He’s not really like that, normally. He was just drunk, I think.”

“You’re not seriously making excuses for him, are you?” Hotch asked, and suddenly you’re indignant, even though you know he’s right.

“He had a bad night.” You protest weakly.

“He almost killed you!” Aaron raised his voice, just a tad.

“He was just trying to scare me.” You countered.

“He was escalating. I know that you know that,” Hotch said, searching your face, looking for something to profile. You didn’t blame him, you knew your behavior was erratic. You draw a deep breath, your chin quivering as your eyes welled up.

“It worked. I’m scared.” You squeaked out, trying not to let the tears fall and ruin the makeup you’ve worked so hard on. Hotch wrapped you in his arms again and you breathed in deeply, letting his cologne fill your lungs and lull you into a calm.

“You don’t need to be scared. I’ve got your six. I’ve got you.” He reminded you, and you pulled away from him.

“I don’t think I’m ready to share this with the team yet.” You told him, and he nodded.

“Like I said, your pace. When you’re ready, you’ll tell them, and if you want my support, I’ll be there. I’m gonna go make us some coffee, meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

You were silly to think that you could hide anything from a group of profilers-- none of them have guessed it, yet, or if they have, they’re too polite to say anything about it, but they’ve certainly noticed something. They surrounded you with concern and peppered you with questions the second you walked into the office, and Hotch’s devotion to making sure you weren’t pushing yourself too hard certainly wasn’t going unnoticed. It was during one of your Unit-Chief-Mandated-Breaks that you snuck into the kitchen to refill your water bottle. Almost silently, JJ slipped in behind you.

“You know, you can just say the word, and we’ll all stop pestering you.” She says, and you can hear her gentle smile.

“That’s okay. If I call you off, I lose the right to fuss over whoever’s next.” You tried to crack a joke.

“Good point.” She chuckled.

“I really am okay, Jayje.” You assured her.

“No, honey, you aren’t.” She shook her head. “But you’ll tell us when you’re ready, and we’ll support you even if the secret dies with you.” She laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked out of the kitchen together, sharing a small conspiratorial laugh, your heads thrown back as you pass through the doorway. When the ping of the elevator doors opening grabs your attention, you drop your water bottle in shock.

“You okay?” JJ asks, bending over to pick up your water bottle as he storms through the glass doors of the BAU.

“You whore!” Josh spat out, catching the attention of the whole bullpen. So much for keeping them out of it.

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Morgan asked, rising from his desk immediately.

“Josh?” Emily says, the first one to recognize him. Your eyes dart around the bullpen, and you spot Reid at his desk phone, no doubt calling security.

“You fucking bitch!” Josh says, still advancing towards you. Your brain is screaming at you to run but you can’t get your legs to move. It’s a literal childhood nightmare, playing out in the flesh.

“Come on, let’s go back into the kitchen” JJ says softly, her tone betraying none of her fear as she practically shoves you back into the kitchen. You stumble into a chair, and the sound is muted because of the door, but you can still see and hear everything through the glass. Josh takes another step into the bullpen, but Morgan’s in front of him.

“Turn around and walk out of here, man, because there’s no other way this ends well for you.” Morgan puffs out his chest, trying to stop Josh from looking over his shoulder and seeing you.

“Not until that slut gives me some fucking answers,” He spits out, and you feel JJ squeeze your hand, but you’re too laser-focused on the scene in front of you to acknowledge her.

“I’m going to give you one more chance to walk away.” Morgan hisses through his teeth, advancing closer to Josh.

“I’d listen to him if I were you.” Hotch said, suddenly appearing on the other side of Josh. You hadn’t seen him come down the stairs.

“Ah, good old boss man.’ Josh jeered. “How’s my sloppy seconds? I hope she’s treating you real good seeing as how you stole her right out from under me in the night.”

Without warning, you watch Hotch’s fist connect with Josh’s face. Josh stumbles away, holding his nose, when security comes in through the elevators.

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” He says, raising his hands in surrender. He turns around to face Hotch once more. “This isn’t over.” He says, bringing his hands back to his nose and following the security officer into the elevator.

There’s a stunned sort of silence that hangs over the unit for a few moments before you hear someone break out into a sob. When you feel JJ’s hand start rubbing across your back, you realize that it came from you. The door flies open and you startle, but when you look up, you see a clouded figure of Hotch through your tear-saturated eyes.

You hear JJ and Aaron whisper to each other, but you can’t focus enough to hear what they’re saying. Whatever it is, the conversation ends with JJ slipping out of the kitchen just as quietly as she came, and Aaron sliding into the chair across from you.

“Can I touch you?” He asked, his voice only just loud enough for you to hear over the sound of your own labored breathing. You nodded, unable to verbally respond. He smoothed his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, taking your hands into his own. “You’re okay, he’s gone. Security knows who he is now, he won’t be allowed back in the building.” He tells you, and you nod again.

“I’m okay.” You manage to choke out.

“I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? You’re going to make yourself sick.” He asked of you, disarmingly calm, as he modeled the deep cleansing breaths for you. You take a deep, shaky breath in, trying to force the oxygen all the way down into your lungs before letting it back out in a huff. “Good,” he told you. “Good job, sweetheart, keep going.” he encouraged you, tucking a piece of hair that had gotten stuck to your tear-stained cheek behind your ear. When you were finally calm enough to look up at him, you did so. “There you are,” he smiled at you. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay. Your hand--”

“I’m okay--” He assured you, but you flipped his hand over in your own anyways. It’s swollen.

“You need ice.” You said, standing up and crossing to the freezer.

“You need to sit down before you fall.” Aaron stood up to follow you, shaking his head.

“I took my deep breaths, Hotch. I’m not an eighty year old woman.” You chastised him as you pulled a few ice cubes out of the freezer, putting them in a plastic bag and wrapping a paper towel around it.

“My hand is fine.” He argued with you as you pressed the ice pack to his knuckles.

“You are in absolutely no position to argue with me about letting someone else take care of you, hypocrite.” You fought back, with nothing but concern behind it.

“Okay, fine, but can you sit down, please.” He begged of you.

“Don’t I owe the rest of the team an explanation for all of that?”

“They can wait. Sit down.” He said, and it was no longer a request. You sat down in the seat across from him. “How’s your head?”

‘It’s been better.” You tell him honestly.

“Take a few more deep breaths, please.” He tells you, and you roll your eyes.

“Hotch, I’m--”

“You’re holding your breath. Your shoulders are practically touching your ears. Plus, it would make my hand feel better.” He says, shooting you a grin that would be wholly inappropriate for the situation if it didn’t make you feel so at ease.

You roll your eyes at him in mock-contempt, taking the breaths to appease him and dropping your shoulders. “How is your hand, seriously?”

“I’m fine. I’ve thrown my fair share of punches.” He smirked at you, still trying to distract you, to lighten the mood. “We can just leave. You must need more pain meds, if not a nap. We don’t have to get into all of it today.”

“Well, they all basically know now. We should probably just go to clear the air that I’m not sleeping with you for a promotion.”

“If you’re not up to it, we can--”

“No, Hotch.” You stand up, shaking your head at him through a smile. “Let’s go get it over with.”

The team, of course, didn’t need you to explain that all of what Josh had said was false. Your integrity and the trust shared between all of you was louder than any stupid asshole that could bluster in through those glass doors. You’d cried all of your makeup off, so your black eye was now fully exposed to the team. Aaron left a protective hand on the small of your back the whole time you spoke, never once speaking over you or interrupting. As soon as you finished, you felt silly for ever thinking you needed to hide this from them-- they were supportive without being pitying, and JJ, Emily and Garcia had wrapped you up in hugs just as soon as you finally got it all off your chest.

“We’re going to head out, obviously call us if there’s an urgent case notification.” Aaron explained to the team. “You all should feel free to leave as soon as your paperwork is done.”

“Hotch, I’m really fine,” you tried to insist.

“Are you gonna tell the team they have to keep working?” Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you and you scowled, knowing there was no going back now. “I’m just going to pack some of my stuff up.” He told you, turning back to his office. You followed suit, going to your desk and tidying up.

“Hey, cupcake.” Morgan whistled to get your attention before crossing the bullpen to get to you. “If I had known--if I had seen that bruise on your face before he walked in here -- I would have taken him down myself. Hotchner showed an... impressive amount of restraint.” He told you with a humorless chuckle.

“Thank you, Derek. But he’s not worth it, seriously.” You told him with a smile.

“No, he’s not.” He agreed. “But you are. Don’t you forget that, okay? If you need anything, I’m here.”

Instead of responding verbally, you pushed yourself up onto your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck in a hug. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, crushing you into his chest. It hurt, a little, but the overwhelming security you found with him holding you was far stronger than any pain.

You pulled away and bid your goodnights to the team, following Aaron out to the car taking off towards his apartment.

“You were really brave back there. I’m proud of you. As your friend, not your boss. Or, I guess as your friend and your boss.” He tells you, taking one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze yours briefly.

“I didn’t really have much of a choice,” you rolled your eyes with a small smirk.

“There’s always a choice. You chose to get out, and you chose to let your team in. That’s not nothing.” He told you as he parked the car in front of his place.

“Thank you,” you said, choosing to accept the compliment even though you didn’t believe him. Aaron saw it in your eyes, but he let it slide. You’d see, eventually. At her pace, he reminded himself.

“I was thinking I’d cook tonight. Do you have anything particular in mind?” He asked as you settled into the apartment, hanging up your coats.

“Aaron Hotchner, you can cook?” You laughed, turning around and beaming at him. He couldn’t help but return your smile.

“I’m not Dave, but I manage.” He said coyly.

“I’m sure whatever you make will be delicious.” You told him graciously. “And I’m very excited to try it.”

He tossed you an orange from the bowl of fruit on his counter, and then your pain meds. “Go take a nap.”

“Hotch, I’m---”

“Nope, I don’t want to hear it. I let you spend six hours squinting at screens and paperwork under fluorescents. None of that was good for your head. Go.”

You rolled your eyes at him goodnaturedly before going to the guest room, stripping your work clothes off in favor of a pair of sweats and an FBI Academy t-shirt. Truth be told, everything that had gone down at work had been exhausting, and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x y/n #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you

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bird-likes-to-fandom · 3 years

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OwO i like to scrounge thru random blogs occasionally and i found yours via the very nice tags you left me when you reblogged my art. (TYSM BTW!!!) if you're looking for any sort of prompts atm, i think it'd be really cool to see more pollux and/or castor pjo content around if it speaks to you atm? if you're feeling particularly hurt/comfort i'd love to see you expand your hc on pollux crashing w/the demeter cabin after his bro's death <:3c regardless, i hope you have a good [timezone]!!!

oh! oh! oh! ily this is great tysm (and yw about the tags!!! your art was so good!!!)

Okay I will gladly expand on Pollux and the Demeter cabin hhhh

headcanons below, because they got really long.

I think the Demeter kids were really messed up, too? Like, not Pollux's level because no one could ever understand the situation that way he did, but they were really messed up for a while. Nothing grew for a few days, and all of the plants growing on/in their cabins and most of the strawberry fields died and wouldn't grow back. (The satyrs tried to make them grow but it only worked on very small parts)

Because Demeter isn't the most involved with her kids who aren't Persephone, it takes a lot to get her attention. This got her attention. She tried to cheer them up by sending them gifts and blessings, but Katie and Miranda insisted that the only thing that would make it better would be bringing Castor back from the dead.

Pollux was completely devastated for two weeks after his brother's death. It was only because of one of Demeter's blessings that he survived. He never came out of the Demeter Cabin except for once - Castor's funeral.

I want to say that Pollux had a good support system in the Demeter cabin, but they were wrecks too, and it was really hard for a while.

Nobody made eye contact with Pollux, and no one really liked to look at him at all, because him and Castor were identical twins.

Pollux didn't look at himself in the mirror until months after Castor died.

I think Pollux prayed to Castor a lot. At first it was sort of like a crutch, or a way to talk to him like he was still there. He would tell him about the cutest boys in camp, or how their friends were doing, small stuff like that. And he'd do it every day, usually around dinner time. Occasionally, like on their birthday or other holidays, he'd sacrifice Castor's favorite foods into the fire for him. Eventually he stopped praying every day, and now he only does it to ask for guidance, like a normal prayer.

The other two weeks Pollux stayed in the Demeter cabin were bittersweet. He laughed and had a good time with them, but it just felt empty without his brother there. And then when he went back to the Dionysus cabin...

It wasn't great. At first Pollux didn't want to touch the room, but after a few nights of restless sleep and constant crying, Miranda Gardiner helped him clean up most of Castor's stuff and put it into boxes to put in the closet. Pollux hated that he just packaged up Castor's stuff and put it away, but he told himself he could look at it anytime if he needed to. He wasn't a bad brother for trying to heal. Castor would want that for him.

Pollux decided he couldn't take Castor's absence hanging over him anymore and moved the boxes to his mother's house, where he stayed for the school year. She had always wanted their demigod lives to be separate, but he had to have his own life at camp if he wanted to live there and be better.

Dionysus was estranged, distraught at the loss of his son. He wanted to reach out to Pollux, but he didn't know how. He finally worked it out, though, and he and Pollux began to spend even more time together.

Pollux always remained grateful for the Demeter kids and their mother for the rest of his life, and he never forgot what they did for him.

Do you want some happier ones of when Castor was still alive? Of course you do.

Pollux was older by like a minute, and he always teased Castor about it.

Castor got the nickname "Castiel" because Katie Gardner had a big Supernatural phase and... you get the idea

Castor had so many crushes, but he never really got the date. He was a sweet kid, but he was really nervous and awkward at first when it came to relationships. Pollux was smoother and suaver, and constantly had everyone falling for him, not the other way around.

Castor had maybe one real boyfriend ever, and then one 'girlfriend' in like first grade.

I'm a sucker for Castercy now (thanks to @caffeinatedflumadiddlebutpjo) so he definitely had a big crush on Percy. They would have made a cute couple, but alas, Annabeth was Percy's true love.

Castor was best friends with a daughter of Athena named Otrera (after the first Amazon queen) but she joined the titan side of the war and then disappeared to Alaska half way through the war.

Castor's favorite color was purple and Pollux's is olive green

im always willing to talk about these two so just ask if you wanna know anything about them

#pjo castor #pjo pollux #bird likes to write #katie gardner #miranda gardiner #pjo demeter #tw death #death tw #tw mourning #mourning tw

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cafeinthemoon · 3 years

Text

The Home I Crave - Chapter 8

Title: The Home I Crave

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: Tobirama Senju x reader

Rating: teen and up

Word count: 2769

Chapter: 8/?

Symbols: ⭕ | ➕ | 💛 | ▶️▶️

Read the previous chapters here: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

N. A.: I want to use a different gif so badly but I'm afraid that the change would difficult for readers to recognize my story in the tag. Maybe in the next chapters I will change it 😅

Chapter 8 - Invitation

The following days of your marriage were not so different from the first one in terms of establishing a routine and working to follow it, making the necessary adjustments along the way. You convinced yourself that focusing on this while performing your tasks as your father’s advisor was the best way to adapt to your new life.

However, you weren’t still convinced that this was enough to diminish your discomfort, specially when you were at home with your husband.

Tobirama’s routine and habits were not so difficult to understand after all: he had his time to take care of everything and never procrastinated; you soon saw that thanks to his Shadow Clones, he reached a level of competence that a normal person would take years to achieve, or never would. You were still getting used to see them around the house without getting a fright and even worked with them sometimes; they did you favors in return, such as offering you help when you had to do something outside the house or giving you valuable information to make your life easier in the village.

None of this could make you feel that it was easy to deal with the man himself, though. After trying to maintain a light conversation with him two or three times without success – if it was because of his lack of interest in this type of conversation or because you didn’t know how to start them, you couldn’t tell – you found yourself avoiding his company whenever you don’t have to work together. It wasn’t hard: you only had lunch together (Tobirama took his dinner to the office), and when one of you was at home, the other was probably in a meeting with Hashirama, so that you didn’t spend much time in each other’s company. Besides, you barely spoke between yourselves in the few times you both were at the Hokage’s office. It was true that the light mood of the older Senju brother turned things a little easier, but the weird sensation that established itself between you would come back as soon as you left his presence.

Things were even stranger at night. You rarely would go to bed at the same hour: you used to sleep earlier, and while you prepared yourself to bed you would only see Tobirama leaving his office when you went to your bedroom; most of the times, however, he even left the office at all. Sometimes you wondered if he spent the nights there, but there was this time when you woke up in the middle of the night and found the other side of the bed empty; you touched it and noticed it was cold, as if nobody laid there that night, which confirmed your suspicions.

Days have passed since you started living together, but he never took you nor made any advances towards it. Yes, you both agreed in delaying the wedding night because you were tired and weren’t comfortable – you didn’t have a single chance to talk before the ceremony, after all. But the days would come and go and almost no familiarity grew between you two: except for the forehead kiss he gave you during the ceremony, you haven’t kissed yet; you haven’t shared a hug or holding hands either. At first, you considered the possibility of taking the initiative instead of just waiting for him: with only you two living in that house, you had enough privacy; besides, just like the portrait you found at Mito’s house, the real Tobirama was indeed an attractive man. It wouldn’t be that hard to give yourself to him – but he didn’t give you any chance. You never spent much time in the same room except when you were working, and you would sleep first and not see when he’d come to bed while he would wake up and leave before you can notice.

He seemed to be fleeing from you as much you were fleeing from him now.

***

That morning in particular came quieter than you expected, even though you were already used to the silence that dominated the house whether Tobirama was with you or locked inside his office. Maybe this quietness was the reason you didn’t notice the sun was high in the sky and got late to your tasks.

You took care of yourself in a few minutes and went to check your task list: most of the things there still could be done immediately, but some of them you’d probably have to leave for the night now.

You started working as soon as you finished your breakfast and when you looked at the clock again, it was close to lunch time. You stopped what you were doing and went to the kitchen to prepare something.

Most of the times you took the initiative in doing it, both because you were used to make your own food since you started to participate in shinobi missions and because you finally found a weakness in your husband’s lifestyle: sometimes he could get so involved in his work that he would forget to eat or to send a Clone to prepare his meals, so whenever you started to cook, he would know it’s time to stop.

That day, he didn’t appear when the lunch was ready. You found that strange, but soon you were convinced that your delay could be the cause of it. You left the table organized and went to his office.

When you reached the closed door and knocked, nobody answered the call. You knocked again and the silence persisted on the other side. It was when you realized that the abnormal quietness you’ve been sensing was provoked by the absence of the Clones: you haven’t seen a single one of them since you left your bedroom.

That was unusual, you thought. Tobirama didn’t tell you he would leave home the day before, as he used to do. You turned the door handle and frowned: the door wasn’t locked. Could it be that he forgot it open or did he leave in a hurry, maybe to solve some urgent matter? You couldn’t tell.

You pushed the door and for the first time since the day he showed you the house’s rooms, you saw yourself in Tobirama’s office. It was empty as expected. You noticed the same organization and tidiness of that day as you looked around… except for a corner of the table where you saw a white sheet and ink.

You approached and immediately recognized the text of a correspondence. You started reading it without noticing what you were doing. It was a reply to a letter received recently. It wasn’t finished yet.

To the head of the … clan, Fuyuki-sama:

In the name of our Village, it is with sadness and preoccupation that I, Tobirama from the Senju clan, reply to your previous letter. The decline in your second daughter’s health is indeed a worrying matter. But as you asked in your previous letter, I kept this information out of your advisor’s knowledge until further notice. At the same time, all the support Konoha can offer you must be asked in your next letter regarding the preparations for your people’s travel…

You didn’t even touch the paper while reading it, but you stepped away from the table as if you got burned by the text. So, your husband was writing a letter for your father as a reply to a message he sent to Konoha with bad news involving your immediate family and you weren’t informed? Your sister was sick, and nothing was said to you about the nature or the gravity of her state, and not even the possibility of a delay in the travel was discussed with you, your head’s advisor? How could your father do that? That didn’t sound like him! Who could have suggested something of this kind…

- What are you doing here?

You startled when you heard his voice coming from the room’s entry, but you didn’t scream or throw weapons at him this time. Instead of the fear or shame one would feel when caught in a place they shouldn’t be at, you only felt a growing anger.

- Me? I am the one who should be asking – you grabbed the sheet and shook it in your hand for him to see – What are you doing here?

Tobirama didn’t need an explanation to understand what you meant. You didn’t see a hint of embarrassment in him when you showed the letter, not even irritation: the only thing he had for you was something between tiredness and exasperation, as someone who is used to work alone and now sees themselves forced to share their methods with a new and unprepared partner.

That irritated you as nothing else did since you arrived in that place.

Still, you heard what he had to say.

- This morning, a bird with a message from your clan arrived at my office’s window when I was about to leave it. It was sent directly by your father. He said your second sister, who stood in your place after you left your compound, fell sick. He explained that this could cause a delay in the travel because she was chosen to be one of your people’s Captains thanks to her knowledge of farthest territories and he was reluctant in sending someone less experienced as a substitute.

- And what were you going to say to my father about this? – you crossed your arms to hide the trembling in your hands.

- I am going to suggest him to wait until Konoha send a team of experienced ninjas to replace her and work with your clan’s team. They are in better conditions to help your people as they approach our lands. Your sister must stay in your compound and recover.

You were forced to agree that this was the most practical solution to the problem. But you couldn’t agree with Tobirama acting all by himself without consulting you, no matter what your father asked in that letter: she was your sister, after all!

- So you were going to solve this and leave the explanations to the day when my people would arrive at the village’s gates and I start looking for my sister and can’t find her?! Isn’t it absurd to your standards?!

- This absurd, as you say, is the will of your father, y/n-san – he replied without rising his tone – I cannot disrespect it even in his absence.

- She is my sister! I have all the right to know what happens to her! – you started screaming even though it wasn’t your intention, but that was too much – Besides, my father would never ask something like that from an ally! It’s obvious that some grumpy elder suggested that to him!

You tossed the paper back on the table, but didn’t see where it fell. Apparently this attitude of yours displeased Tobirama.

- Maybe they suggested it because they knew this would be your reaction once you found out about your sister – he pointed at the place you threw the paper at; and, after a sigh – Worrying about a sibling is what any normal person would do. I know that. However, your clan sent this letter in an official envelope, so that we must reply according to its content. And the said content included this request. I could not act in contrary, whether you like it or not.

You leaned your hand on the table’s corner, your fingers tapping its surface with anger.

- And where have you been?

- I just came from the Hokage’s office – he replied without hesitation – I asked my brother to send a medical ninja to help in your sister’s treatment. He could not send one of his Wood Clones, because it would not last the whole travel, so he sent one of his apprentices.

You raised an eyebrow.

- And who I should thank for this? Him or you?

This time you sensed a sign of irritation in his manners.

- The best you can do to thank us is to put yourself together and reconsider what you already know about these type of…

- And the best you can do for us now is not speak to me like this! – your patience was now gone and you interrupted him without caring about formalities – I know about all of this better than you can suppose. I have been working on this for years. I know my clan’s head and each elder that works with him as I know myself, so I could even tell you who suggested the secrecy to my father and guess what? He’s not so different from you! That’s why you agreed with that so easily!

You walked toward the door to leave, but afraid that he would stand in your way. Fortunately, that didn’t happen.

But that didn’t mean Tobirama would let you leave without hearing a last word from him.

- You are right, y/n-san – and after seeing you turning your neck in surprise – I do not know your leader and your elders as you do. But whoever this person you talked about is, you should recognize his value in your council. Thanks to the work of people like him, the personal matters of each community member can be kept separated from the public ones, and the individual passions cannot become the cause of a clan’s ruin.

There was something different in his tone this time, though you were unable to tell what. Maybe he was really offended by what you just said, or he was speaking about an old experience with another clan. You immediately remembered what you knew about the legendary rivalry between the Senju and the Uchiha and supposed that his statement had something to do with it. Whatever the case, you wouldn’t stay to discuss it.

You were done with it.

- You have a point in this. Things would be difficult if we didn’t have anyone to guarantee that the laws are being respected. But I am not asking you to disrespect anything. I am asking you to stop underestimating me.

You turned your back without waiting for a reply and left the room. You weren’t sure of what you were going to do with those new, serious information you got by accident, but you would need time to think of something.

A time you didn’t have at that moment, because you didn’t take two steps outside the office when someone knocked on the front door. You went to answered it and found Mito Uzumaki standing on the entry. She was alone, carrying a small bag on her left hand.

You were polite, of course, but didn’t hide the fact that you weren’t expecting visitors.

- Mito-san...? How can we help you?

You must have stared at her for too long or looked too desperate, because she startled at your reception.

- You look pale, dear. Are you alright?

You shook your head, praying for her to give up on asking.

- I am. I just woke up a little late today, so I’m on a hurry with my tasks. I’m a bit tired – and standing out of the door’s way – Do you want to come in?

Mito smiled.

- No, thank you. I have my own things to take care of and besides I don’t want to bother you. I just came to make an invitation – she looked over your shoulder and raised her voice – For both of you.

You glanced behind and saw Tobirama approaching the door. When he stopped close to you, she continued:

- Hashi and I want you to join us for dinner tonight. He knows this has been a busy week for you two, but there are matters he wants to discuss and he might not find another opportunity in the next week.

This last sentence sounded peculiar to you. Hashirama might not find an opportunity to discuss something with his advisor? You looked at Mito again and read the subtle message in her eyes: Hashirama wanted to check on his brother, as much as she wanted to make sure that everything was going well with you. You didn’t know if you should silently thank her or run.

Whatever the case, the final decision ended up not being yours.

- Tell my elder brother that we accept the invitation – Tobirama’s voice was heard behind you – And thank him for us.

Mito nodded.

- I will. See you tonight.

She left in an instant, as if she didn’t want to give you a chance to change your mind.

#naruto fanfiction #tobirama #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju #tobirama fanfiction #tobirama fanfic

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wickedscribbles · 3 years

Text

Come What May, Chapter Four

Masterlist

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Original Female Character (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: brief description of panic attack -- there is a warning in the body of the chapter as well! Don’t worry.

Tags: main character has social anxiety, teaching a class with Obi-Wan, sexual tension, lightsaber fights, Obi-Wan continues with the cute pet names, some teacher/student fantasizing, Obi-Wan is still a massive tease, fucking in a supply closet

Word Count: 6.9 K

It's infuriating to know that Obi-Wan is back in the Temple, but that he's too busy to see you. Between Council meetings that drag for hours, more private gatherings with members of the Senate to discuss what the next move in the war should be, and allowing the poor man time to rest, Obi-Wan has been home for more than a week. You've barely caught more than a glimpse of him. Still, it's nice to have him present in your mind.

You know he's still in the Temple every day you wake up to a glowing good morning, love, his happiness to be near you radiating like sunshine even if you haven't had the time to see one another. It’s not safe to talk back and forth, but sometimes if one of you is particularly bored, you’ll trade a few sentences.

Master Yoda is on a roll today. Send help. Starting to think backwards I am.

Pity you I do.

Very funny, petal.

Then he’d be gone again, fading out before anyone got suspicious. The sudden absence hurts, but not as much as having him gone from the Temple entirely. At least here, you can feel him. You know he's safe.

In contrast to Obi-Wan's breakneck schedule, you've had almost nothing to do. It's full-on spring on Coruscant now, the warmth driving cold and flu season away. You have no colicky little ones in the creche to fuss over, no sick Padawans. The most you might see are some old Masters who need their aching bones tended to, or a quick training accident that needs mended. You haven't shipped out to a war-stricken planet in a while, either. It's strange to have downtime. Strange and frustrating, knowing Obi-Wan is nearby but still not close enough. Having a spare moment between all the illness and injuries is a good thing, and you're grateful. If only you weren't so restless.

-----

It’s rare -- almost impossible -- that you get to take the entire day off, but that’s exactly what you’ve been told to do. The medbay sits empty except for a couple of droids, instructed to deep clean while there are no patients. Even Master Allie appears to be taking it easy; her Force is calm as she bids you goodbye. She insists that if anyone turns up in need of healing, she and Barriss Offee would be on call to take care of it. You bow to her and leave, excited about what possibilities this could open up.

The first thing you do is check for Obi-Wan. Of course, he’s preoccupied. You duck out after feeling the level of concentration he’s exerting at something-or-other; it’s mixed with frustration and you don’t want to distract him. Like you, he’s getting more and more impatient with how busy the Council has kept him. You try not to let yourself be disappointed; it would be too lucky for both of you to be free at the same time, on the same day. All you can do is hope that you can find the time to be together before he has to leave again.

With your schedule more open than ever, you head to your favorite courtyard. The least you can do is soak up some Coruscanti sunshine. But only a quarter of an hour passes before you’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps on cobblestones, headed fast in your direction. Around the corner, scattering the kiros birds, comes a youngling you recognize. It's Gil Graven, a spitfire of a youngling you see in the medbay far more than others his age. He drives his minders crazy with his recklessness, but he’s a sweetheart. Even if you swear you have him admitted once a month for sprains and cuts.

Even now he trips and topples, would have earned the Halls of Healing their first visitor of the day, if you hadn't righted him with a quick pull of the Force.

"Easy, Gil. Where's the fire?" You smile, watching the kid tug his too-large tunic back onto his shoulder.

"Fire? There's no fire, miss. I was looking for you!"

His eyes go round with confusion, cheeks red from running. You forgot how literal younglings could be.

"I meant -- wait, looking for me? What's wrong? Who's hurt?"

Kriff. You should've known taking a day off would backfire. Something had happened in the fifteen minutes you’d had your butt parked in the grass. You get to your feet, gripping the pouch of emergency bacta on your belt.

"Oh! It's not a healer thing." Gil bounces in place, thinking. "But you're needed in the training halls! And they told me to find you quick!"

"Gil, calm down for a minute, okay?" The training halls? Why on Ryloth were you wanted there? "Who told you?"

He shrugs, unhelpful. “I dunno. I’ve never met ‘im before. But he told me to go get the Knight from the Healing Halls ‘cause no one’s been admitted today, and you’d be able to help him.”

You’re still not sure if this is a healer problem, or a matter of simple confusion. Gil’s got a touch of what healers like to call bouncy brain. Sweet as he is, he talks at lightspeed and can’t seem to concentrate if he isn’t moving. There’s a real possibility that he’s got something mixed up here. Still, it’s not as if you’re doing anything else. The Force must have decided that you need to keep busy.

You decide to see what he’s going on about. “Okay, Gil. Lead the way.”

-----

Lingering outside one of the larger training rooms is Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, who smiles when he spots Gil leading you over by the hand.

“There you are!” He crouches down to greet your youngling escort, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Gil, I am so glad you found our friend. You may go now.”

Gil bows to him, his Force blooming under the praise. “Yes, Master.” You both watch as he takes off the way he came, speeding back up to a run.

“No running!” You scold after him. He barely slows before he’s out of sight.

Master Ki-Adi-Mundi chuckles. “That one reminds me of our own Anakin Skywalker.”

You nod, seeing the resemblance. Anakin is five years your junior, but he was still notorious when you were Padawans. Always turning up where he shouldn’t have been, Obi-Wan always three steps behind. Nothing’s changed, Obi-Wan often tells you.

“Master,” you say, hearing the low buzz of voices coming from the room you’re standing in front of. “Gil said you needed me? Is someone injured?”

“Hm? Oh! Oh stars, no.” Master Ki-Adi shakes his head, looking sheepish. “But I was rather hoping you’d be able to help me with a little problem I’ve run into.”

“Of course.” Okay, now I'm suspicious.

Ki-Adi tugs the end of his beard. “My squadron is being called out to fight on very short notice, I’m afraid. I was meant to teach today’s lesson, and was lucky enough to find a substitute for myself on short notice. But my instruction partner is leaving as well, and I haven’t yet found them a suitable replacement.”

“O-oh,” you hear yourself squeak.

Karabast. He wants you to teach? Your stomach drops somewhere near your ankles. This is so far from what you were expecting when Gil led you here. You can’t do this. You can’t.

Ki-Adi must feel your panic, because he continues quickly. “Don’t fret, my dear! My substitute is a very capable instructor. Follow his lead, and everything will be fine.” He claps a hand on your shoulder, turning away.

“Thank you again -- and now I really must be off.” And with that, he’s gone, walking at a brisk pace down the corridor.

CW starts here!

You’re so anxious that you feel like you’re about to be sick. You’ve done many things on behalf of the Council, often without knowing what they even were, but this? You can’t do this. There’s too many people. You lean against the doorframe, struggling for breath.

What’s the matter? Obi-Wan’s concern comes rushing in, and you’re grateful you have him to latch onto, to focus on.

Someone's asked a favor of me -- and I don’t think I can do it. You’re gripping your saber hilt too tight, the metal biting into your hand.

Please try to calm down. Find somewhere to sit and meditate, collect yourself --

Your anxiety is affecting him, making his own thoughts race even if he doesn’t know the cause. This sometimes happens. You’ve jolted awake in the middle of the night more than once with nightmares that weren’t your own, or had thoughts that didn’t make sense ‘til you realized they weren’t yours.

I can’t.

Why not?

You don’t reply. You have to go in there. Master Ki-Adi said that he was already late. Remembering your breathing, you focus on a count of four in through your nose, then hold the breath for a count of seven. When you exhale, you count to eight. After repeating the exercise several times, you can think straight. It’s not the more in-depth meditation Obi-Wan would have preferred, but it helps. All you can do is hope that the instructor carries much of the class, as Master Ki-Adi said he would.

When it feels like you’ve released much of your fear and uncertainty to the Force, you open the door and step in.

CW ends here!

Immediately, twenty pairs of curious Padawan eyes move to follow you, and you cringe. They all sit cross-legged on the padded floor. Three of the walls are lined with mirrors, the better for students to see fighting forms and sparring matches from every angle. On a side wall, a flimsi depicting each form of saber combat stretches the length of the room, cut off only by the supply closet where training accessories are stored. You’ve been in this room and its adjacent siblings dozens of times. But all that isn’t as important to you as the instructor, who’s turned to see why the room’s gone quiet.

It’s Obi-Wan.

Standing bare-foot on one of room-length training mats, in the middle of handing out sparring sticks to the class, he freezes when you lock eyes.

Oh, he says, equal parts shock and happiness.

Yeah.

I say this with the greatest respect, darling -- why did Master Ki-Adi send you?

Because the Healing Halls are completely empty. Also to torture me. You grimace, joining him at the front of the room. He nods to you in greeting, as if you aren’t having a mental conversation.

“Knight Courtee. Glad to see you could join us.”

“I apologize, Master. It was short notice for me, as well.” You bow to him.

Is this what you were so worked up about? They’re only Padawans. They don’t bite -- much.

Once the group realizes that you’re the other instructor that Obi-Wan’s been waiting for, the chatter resumes. They stop ogling you. From the looks of the group, they’re all in the late teens, and bubbling over with energy. Right in the middle of Padawan and Knight, but with all the arrogance to think they’re already the latter. Away from their Masters in a group like this, they tend to get far rowdier than they would otherwise. Each has a lightsaber strapped to their belt.

“Run me through the lesson?” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Quiet!” Obi-Wan demands over his shoulder, and you jump. The loudest cluster of Padawans instantly falls silent behind you.

Sorry, he thinks at you. I’m starting to see why Ki-Adi jumped on the first ship leaving the system.

“Amina, lose the gum. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Yes, now. Navo, do I have to move you to the other side of the room? Don’t think I won’t.”

Mumbles of yes, Master, break out before he turns back to you, satisfied. You don’t smile but know he feels your amusement.

“We’ll be running through some more advanced katas,” Obi-Wan says. “Then we’ll break them into pairs and focus on the saber technique of each pair. At the end of the lesson, you and I will give a demonstration on a chosen form. Perhaps more than one, if the class requests it.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit, thinking back to your own group Padawan lessons. You’d dreaded the paired sparring sessions, having your own form broken down and scrutinized. In the end, though, it had improved your skills. Being able to do the same for this group would be an honor. This is a big piece of being a Jedi, after all; skills passed down from Master to Knight to Padawan.

“It isn’t. Just don’t let them smell your fear,” he grins. “Let’s get started.”

As noisy as the group is, you can tell they’re genuinely excited to be in a session led by Master Kenobi. And Obi-Wan really knows how to lead the room. While you stand stiffly off to the side, nodding whenever he finishes saying something and hoping you don’t look like an idiot, he uses the space. He explains the lesson to them as he explained it to you, then asks if anyone has any questions.

The girl who’d been caught with gum earlier, Amina, raises her hand. Her other hand is busy twirling her long Padawan braid, like she can’t help but fidget with it. “Um, Master Kenobi, why are we using sparring sticks? We’ve had lightsabers for a while now.”

A murmur of agreement washes through the crowd, and Obi-Wan smirks.

“Good question, Padawan. Everyone, close your eyes and reach through the Force. Do you feel how tumultuous the energy in this room is? How excitable? If any one of you lit your saber in this room, I fear someone would lose a limb. And that’s something that Knight Courtee can’t fix for you. So we play it safe.”

Another hand punctuates the air, from the very front of the crowd. This Padawan seems younger than the rest, with hair that sticks up everywhere and eyes focused only on Obi-Wan. He starts speaking before he can be called on.

“All due respect, Master,” he says, in a way that makes you think that he’s used to sharing unorthodox opinions. The corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth quirks up as he fights a smile, and you feel him think of Anakin.

“Why are we here? We’re fighting a war. Many of us have already seen combat alongside our Masters.” He lowers his eyes to the mat, afraid he’s gone too far. When his fellow Padawans start nodding and whispering, he tugs on the end of his nerf-tail, as if unsure of what to do.

Obi-Wan takes a moment to consider this question, hand going to his beard as it often does when he’s thinking.

“I appreciate your honesty, Caleb. And you’re correct. It might seem...redundant to spend your time here when even now fellow Jedi are fighting real battles.”

He pauses, thinking of how to continue. The Padawans are hanging onto his every word, the room silent. “But that’s why it’s so important to refine your technique when we can spare the time, in a secure environment. It will make you stronger when you face a real opponent. It might even save your life. Does that make sense?”

Wow, you think to yourself. He’d handled that beautifully. Even though Caleb had spoken out of turn, Obi-Wan hadn’t belittled him or made the teen feel bad about what was an honest and important question. He’d taken the time to consider the Padawan’s feelings, and had given him an equally honest answer, not something to pacify him. It takes you back to your own Padawan training, when Obi-Wan had been your instructor.

“Yes, Master,” Caleb ducks his head, looking relieved. “thank you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes search the room. “Anything else?”

After a pause, another hand goes up, toward the back.

“Millu?” You love that he knows everyone by name. Some Padawans turn around to reveal a burly Mon Calamari boy.

“Yeah.” His bright yellow eyes dart over to you. “Uh, speaking of Knight Courtee. Why are you teaching us? I thought you were just, like, a healer.” There’s no real malice in his tone, more like an off-handed curiosity, but Obi-wan stiffens.

Luckily you think of something to say before he can open his mouth. It wouldn’t look good for him to get upset defending you.

“That’s an excellent question, Millu, thank you.” You shoot him a smile, and you swear his scales darken with a blush.

“Being a Jedi with healing abilities does not mean that you get to neglect other aspects of your training. On the contrary, your connection with the Force must be powerful at all times. Healing will swamp you physically and emotionally, so you must keep both body and mind strong to withstand it.”

Your smile widens. “Of course, if you’re asking if you can best me in a fight, we’ll see how you match up during paired spars. Sound good?”

Laughter breaks out, and Millu blushes even darker before muttering, “Sure,” and looking away. Even if it seemed like he was questioning your ability to teach them (as you yourself are), you’re grateful the interaction’s lightened the mood.

Nicely done, says Obi-Wan.

“Very good,” he says aloud, clapping his hands together. “Now if we’re done heckling Knight Courtee, let’s begin with some stretches, please.”

------

Obi-Wan was right, you think, walking around the room. This...isn’t bad at all. You walk from pair to pair, taking in the angle of their weapon, how they hold their bodies, making minor corrections and leaving comments as you go. They look up when you come by, eager to see what you’re going to say to them. It’s much easier to interact with the Padawans on this smaller scale, and you find yourself joking with them, smiling. After a while, they even start asking for you, looking to see if you can demonstrate a move or if they’re holding the training stick the correct way. They aren’t scary at all -- just excitable kids who want to learn.

I’m sorry, Obi-Wan was what?

Looking up, you see Obi-Wan grinning across the room, demonstrating his own correction. In the middle of all this excitable teen Force energy, it’s easy for you to have a conversation and go unnoticed.

You were right. I like this.

And you’re good at it; they adore you. You’re going to make a wonderful Master. He shows you a brief image of a happy Padawan trailing behind you, eager to follow wherever you lead. It’s the best feeling, love.

Unexpected emotion rises in your chest at his pure sincerity. He knows how insecure you are about the fact that you’ll soon have your own Padawan to look after, but he doesn’t have a single doubt that you can do it. For the first time, you let yourself think of the situation in a hopeful light. It was a path you never pictured for yourself, but one that you know you have to follow. Obi-Wan makes it look so easy. Anakin, and even Anakin’s Padawan Ahsoka, look at him like he hung the stars. Of course, so do you.

“Last twenty minutes!” Obi-Wan calls over the noise of sparring sticks clacking together. “Take a seat, class.”

The Padawans rush to do as they’re told, everyone clamoring for the best spot to view your spar with Master Kenobi. They go completely silent, waiting for you to join him. A hush even falls over the Force energy in the room, like they’re all holding their breath.

Obi-Wan sinks into a bow when you’re opposite him, one hand on his saber. When you glance down in confusion, he sends a wave of amusement.

I said I didn’t trust the Padawans, darling. Not you.

Not sure if that’s wise. You bow in return, unclipping your saber also. He ignites his blade, the blue glow casting light over all the reflections of the mirrors. Taking a deep breath, trusting the familiar feeling of your own weapon, you ignite your lightsaber. The bright green light shimmers over your hands, crackling with your energy.

You’re surprised at how nervous you are. It’s one thing to watch him from across the room, to be taught by him as a Padawan yourself, but to spar with Obi-Wan as an equal? He’s going to wipe the floor with you.

“What form does Knight Courtee use?” You hear somebody whisper.

“Form five -- she told me.”

“Oooh, really? That’ll be fun to see against Master Kenobi.”

“Shhh!”

Obi-Wan waits until the group is quiet again to ask if you’re ready to start. Your saber hums hot in your hand, a little less controlled than you’d like it.

“Ready as I can be, Master.”

“Then let’s begin.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than he’s in your space, much closer than you want him with a lightsaber in hand. You strike out instinctively and he expected that, anticipated it. He was baiting you. Your blade bounces off of his far more harshly than you like, the zyoom echoing through the room. You take a step back, try to calculate an opening. He mirrors you, waiting to react. It takes you longer than it should to realize that he’s shielded the bond up tight, not giving anything away. The only thing you can hear is your heartbeat and the crackling of the sabers, each one fueled by its master’s adrenaline.

He keeps his blade held at eye level, and you lunge in for a mid-range attack. Obi-Wan blocks but you keep it coming, getting back into the groove of Djem So after spending so long out of combat. It feels good to have the saber be a part of you, to have it grow lighter as it remembers your touch.

Strike, block, strike, block. You’re working at a breakneck rhythm trying to get through his defenses, but Obi-Wan won’t give an inch. Sweat pours down your temple but still you press, using the Force to try and search for a weak point but finding none. He’s too kriffing fast.

There’s a reason they call him Master of this form. It’s infuriating, the almost lazy way he flicks your lightsaber aside every time, using your energy against you. There’s not a hair out of place on him. Every time you lower your blade, wondering what to do, he simply resets, content to wait again. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows you’re getting tired.

The Padawans are anything but quiet now -- some shouting Get her, Master Kenobi! while others insist that you can hold your own. Your eyes flick over to them once. Some lean forward towards the fight as far as they dare, a few are even on their feet in support.

When Obi-Wan finally tips his saber in retaliation, you barely manage to block, caught off guard at the change from defense to offense. He strikes again, again, again -- each blow more brutal than the last, each one so close to your skin that you can feel his blue saber’s sizzling heat. He’s driving you back against the wall. Despite your best effort, you’re losing ground where you’d previously held it. When you feel your back slam against the wall he was driving you toward, you gasp and fumble a block -- your last move. The blade of Obi-Wan’s saber hovers near your throat, a win.

“And that’s your head,” he says easily. You lower your saber and extinguish the blade, holding your hands up in a show of defeat.

The room erupts.

“Master Kenobi, that was so wizard --”

“Knight Courtee was letting him have it! Did you see --?”

“I wish I could have recorded that for the holo!”

“Settle down,” Obi-Wan says, but he’s smiling. “I’m glad that you all have found this lesson so illuminating.” He bows to you, signalling the end of the match, and you follow suit.

“You’re dismissed,” he says to the room. The declaration is met with mixed reactions; half are glad to be free, half don’t want the lesson to be over yet.

“No need to hang around and help tidy this time. You were such a good group that Knight Courtee and I are glad to take care of it.” It’s traditional for students to stick around after the lesson is done and help roll up the training mats, collect the sparring sticks, and clean the room in any other way that needs it.

That statement really gets them out the door, though several of them whine about him being far cooler than their regular teacher and why can't he teach them all the time?

Once everyone’s filed out, Obi-Wan locks the door behind them. He turns to you with a long sigh, relieved that the loudness of all those teenagers in one place has dispersed.

“Well,” you say. “That’s not how I expected my morning to go.”

“I’m glad,” Obi-Wan replies. “I was beginning to think that I wouldn’t see you at all in my time home, yet here we are.”

“Like the Force willed it.”

He beams at that, drawing you tight against him. “C’mere. My bright little instructor.”

You grumble, cheek pressed against his chest. “You flayed me within an inch of my life, Obi-Wan.”

All he does in response to your grumpiness is chuckle, placing warm kisses everywhere he can reach on your face. “Yes. I did.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“I couldn’t exactly go easy on you, could I?”

No, he couldn’t. Everyone knows the extent of Obi-Wan’s skill, and while you aren't untalented with a saber, winning or even overcoming him would be unlikely. You’d fought honestly, and so had he. Anything else would have invoked suspicion.

He takes your silence for the correct answer, then gently pries your cheek from his body.

“Would it help if you got kisses as a consolation prize?” He’s looking at you so fondly, like you’re his favorite thing in the galaxy. You nod, already leaning on your tiptoes to reach.

Obi-Wan hums against your lips, sinking against you like he’s been waiting for this -- because you both have. The kisses stay close-mouthed, but he’s pressing them onto you fast, his hands roaming you urgently. Your bond tells you that he wants to take his time with you, would have each moment stretch out for as long as possible, if he could. He wants to savor you. But arousal is winning out.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling back to brush his nose against yours. “Do you know how much restraint it took not to pin you against the wall and have you, at the end of our fight? To resist sending all the little Padawans away right then?”

You gasp, feeling heat stirring deep in your stomach. The honey-sweetness of his tone contrasts with his words, but he’s just getting started.

“There was such fire in your eyes when we sparred, kitten." Kitten. Yet another pet name to add to your already large collection. This one makes you blush, and you don't miss Obi-Wan's pleased grin. "I had to shut you out so that you wouldn’t get distracted by my, er, distraction.”

His distraction presses up against your leg now, thick and hot. Obi-Wan tugs the end of your braid hard, tilting your head back to expose your neck. You whimper against him, all but letting him hold you up at this point. He loves it -- going to work at once nipping and kissing everywhere he can get to. His breath is heavy on your skin as he ruts against your thigh, trying and failing to bite back his own ecstatic moans.

“We’re alone now,” you choke out, hardly aware enough to string the sentence together. “s-so you can -- do whatever you want with me.”

This makes him pause. “Is that so?” Obi-Wan’s tone is still so light, like you’re having a conversation about what they’re serving in the refectory today, not how badly you want him to fuck you.

“Yes,” you say, embarrassed at how desperate you sound, how easily you melt for him. You can see yourself over his shoulder in the mirrors, and you blush, burying your face.

He laughs a little at your reaction. “What if I want to take you into that supply closet and bend you over?” His hand roams down your body, landing on your crotch. Two fingers rub a strong circle through the material, and you lean into it. “What if I want to take you from behind, make up for all the time we haven’t been together?”

“I’d ask why -- aren’t we already there,” you huff, blinking up at him.

That’s all the answer he needs. In one motion, he grabs you round the middle and hauls you over his shoulder like a sack of meilooruns. Your breath whooshes out, surprise and a lack of air keeping you from forming a sentence as he marches you to the closet as promised. The ground bounces and sways in your vision as you’re jostled -- it’s a strange sensation, being carried. Thankfully, it only lasts a few seconds.

Obi-Wan opens the door and closes it just as quickly once you’re both inside, making you aware of how small, how dark, the space is. You find yourself deposited on the storage bin that the mats are kept in, your legs dangling high in the air. He leans in to kiss you, nothing but hot breath and hungry hands, and you fist your own in the front of his tunic. It spurs him on, and soon his tongue is pressing into your open mouth, exploring every corner.

You moan into him, your fingers going beyond clothes to scratch against his chest. Obi-Wan picks you up again and you lift your legs around his waist, rubbing tight against his cock. He bears your entire weight like it’s nothing, continuing to kiss you as if your legs are planted on the ground. Stars, the strength, the eagerness of him, is overwhelming. His arms are pillars, holding you steady, crossed firm around your back.

"I thought you said," you gasp out, shivering when his tongue flicks out to catch your earlobe, "something about -- bending me over --"

“So eager today,” he says, his voice a tantalizing purr.

“Can you blame me?” you blurt.

"And what does that mean, dearest?"

He already knows what you mean. It’s everywhere in your mind. You can’t hide how you feel when you’ve been this close to him for so long, forbidden to touch him, to even think about it until you’ve reached your breaking point.

Obi-Wan, hands behind his back, patiently watching the Padawans demonstrate their forms. Nodding and sometimes stepping in to correct, placing his hand casually on an arm or leg to shift the balance of their weight. Then the Padawan he’s correcting becomes you, and his touch is no longer innocent. The group is melting away, and his mouth is trailing down your neck, whispering things that have little to do with the kata you’re struggling through.

“Oh,” he chuckles. “I see.”

You bump your head into his shoulder, too embarrassed to answer. As if to reassure you, Obi-Wan sends you an image back.

Both of you in the same training room, but you stand among your fellow Padawans, now all Knights, shuffling anxiously from foot to foot. You don't look that much different from the way you do now, but for the traditional Padawan's hairstyle.

Though you're seeing things from his perspective, the mirrors give him away; Obi-Wan looks younger, too. There are no lines around his eyes here, he holds himself more loosely. Like there isn't a galaxy-wide war. And he's less certain as he flits from student to student, new at this.

"You were always a pleasure to speak to, you know," Obi-Wan tells you, low voice right in your ear. He knows that he's teasing you, knows exactly the effect it's having on your body. You squirm in his tight grip, unable to go anywhere to get away from the softness of his voice.

"Polite and passionate. Made your Master very proud. But…" he trails off, and you shiver, anticipating his next words.

"So anxious whenever you saw me, weren't you?" He muses, fingers flexing on the curve of your ass. "And now I finally understand why."

"Obi-Wan…" you protest, unsure of what you're going to say next but just knowing that you need the teasing to stop. Both mental and physical -- he's hard against your abdomen, almost painful with how tight you're wedged against him.

"Down, love," he says. With effort, you extract your legs from around his waist and plant your feet on the floor, with his hands to guide you. "Turn around."

For a moment, you get excited, thinking that he's done teasing you. Obi-Wan makes quick work of your belt, dropping it to the floor seconds before your pants and underwear. You step out of them, breathing heavily, feeling his chest against your back. There's a clink, and you realize that he's dropped his belt as well, one hand bracing on your shoulder as he fumbles out of his own bottoms.

There's nothing between you now. Obi-Wan's bare dick rubs against your tailbone, leaving a warm dribble of pre-come.

"Now bend forward for me, darling -- that's it --"

You lean on the storage bin, heart thumping a tattoo in your throat. Obi-Wan lines himself up behind you, breath ragged, and sinks inside you in one long push.

"Obi-Wan, oh," you cry out, not expecting how full you'd feel from this angle.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he says, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. His mind is a high buzz of pleasure, looking forward to taking you apart in this new, delicious way.

Then he moves. So, so deep and slow. You let out a broken whine, toes curling. He pauses, holds his breath. Then thrusts again, just as unhurried as the first time, and your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth material of the bin in front of you.

“Hmm,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Do you know, this reminds me of something.”

You groan, not out of pleasure, but because he’s stopped. How? Where and how did he find the restraint to torment you like this? You’re not sure which part of today’s interaction set him off, but you sorely wish that he’d get down to business and fuck you.

“What does it remind you of?” you ask tightly, figuring that playing along will get you where you want to be faster. As if rewarding you, Obi-Wan’s hands come around to find your breasts, teasing your nipples with the barest of touches. Gods if he doesn’t go faster --

He can hear your mind loud and clear, but says nothing, only sending a feeling of amusement back before answering your question.

"Watching you go through katas in this very room. Or, well, the room outside." Obi-Wan presses into your back, finally starting to push into you in a slow but satiating rhythm.

"Mmm," you manage, pressing your lips together hard to avoid reaching an inappropriate volume.

“Do you remember the criticism I had for you, little Padawan? You were so tense. Why was that?” All the while he’s languidly thrusting into you from behind. As if he expects you to form a coherent response.

“I l-liked you,” you stammer out, bracing yourself on the edge of the storage bin.

"Oh? Well, I liked you too. You were a wonderful student."

"That's not what I --" Thank the Maker that it's pitch black in this closet, because your face is burning.

"But for some reason," he continues, enjoying himself, "you always needed correction in solo practice. The other Masters told me, several times, that that was not an issue in their own lessons."

You can only whimper as he bears into you deeper. He knows exactly what he's doing to you. When you place a hand on your stomach, just above your belly button, you can feel him inside you.

"Tell me, sweetheart. Did you need my hands on your body, as desperately as you do now?"

"Yes, Master," you all but sob. "I need, I n-need --"

"Need me to fuck you?" Obi-Wan supplies, voice going rough and breathy. "Need me to wreck you, the way your mind is screaming for it?"

You slam the palm of your hand on the top of the bin, and it makes a hollow thud, sending pain shooting up your arm.

"Obi-Wan, yes! Please, please fuck me, I need it!" You're aware that your words border on incoherence, but not enough to care.

And he doesn't either.

Just as you've reached your limit, so does Obi-Wan. One of his hands grabs your wrist and pins it, hard, while the other squeezes your hip.

"Are you ready?" He pants in your ear, pausing only to nip at your shoulder blade. Already he's fucking you deeper, so good so thick inside you, that you're writhing under his every touch.

"Wanted to do this -- for s-so long --" Obi-Wan gasps out and so do you, the heat of orgasm reaching a crescendo in your thighs as you feel him come apart in your mind.

"Want to come so deep inside you, darling, oh please, please --"

You know that he's barely hanging on, waiting for your permission.

"Gods, Master, yes --" Like you could deny him this, when you want it so desperately too.

His forehead drops to your shoulder as he rams into you, shoving you against the bin. It takes everything you have not to scream his name when you come, gripping his arm -- the only part of him you can reach from this angle.

Obi-Wan isn't far behind, moaning loud behind you as your orgasm makes your pussy clamp down even tighter on him.

"Yes, yes, oh my Gods --"

The bond flares up sudden and white-hot between you, carrying the sensation of Obi-Wan's pleasure just as it had that night on Odryn.

"Kriff," you say weakly, clutching his arm like it's the only thing connecting you to the planet.

Sweetheart, I'm there, I'm right there

I know, and I'm -- me too --

Again?

Yes

Oh fuck, fuck -- I'm coming, stars, I'm coming, oh --

You come a second time when Obi-Wan starts to spurt inside you, tears spilling from the intensity of it all. With him this tight against your body, you swear you can feel every hot spurt of come shoot up inside you. Obi-Wan's teeth are caught in the material of your tunic, muffling his shout. It feels like you stand there, taking his come for minutes, as he shudders against you.

When it's over you whimper, leaning against his chest on aftershock-weak legs. Slowly, as if his head is one step behind, Obi-Wan puts his arms around you.

"Stars above, Obi-Wan," you mutter, every coherent thought fucked out of your head. Your brain feels like static, but your body's floating. Pulling out and turning you gently to face him again, Obi-Wan plants a line of soft kisses from your forehead to your mouth. His release runs heavy down your thighs, but there's not much you can do about it here.

"Not tense now, are you?" he says, tracing slow, wet circles over your sensitive clit.

You laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"No, I'm committed to a scene," Obi-Wan corrects, as if this was all an elaborate game.

You consider saying something along the lines of, I'm going to commit my boot to your rear end if you don't quit it, but think better of it.

Instead you re-dress, wincing at the mess you'll have to tolerate down your crotch and legs until you can get to the nearest fresher. This is the downfall of spontaneous sex. No easy cleanup.

"Next time, would you like to come with me?" Obi-Wan's asking. You snort, buckling your belt back into place.

"Pretty sure I just did. You didn't notice?"

He pauses, then opens the closet door, letting in a blinding slice of light. Though he's dressed, Obi-Wan looks disheveled and wide-eyed still in a way that you always adore.

"That's...no. That's not what I'm talking about, love," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"I mean, the next time I have to leave. Come with me. I think we've both come to realize that being apart is painful. And that being together isn't just a physical concept anymore."

His voice has dropped to a near-whisper, but you're hanging on to every word. Though you'd never admit it aloud, this is exactly what you want. To follow him instead of lying awake every night, worrying he won't come back from the last distant system he's shipped away to. You want to be beside him, no matter how rough things are.

You are a Jedi, not a housewife. And frankly, being kept in the Temple while he's away risking his neck, the bond blocked for days or weeks at a time, is torture.

Obi-Wan listens to all this, your outpouring of emotion through the bond you never meant to forge with him. He shows his understanding, his respect, his compassion for you, in return.

"Okay. Okay," he says, more to himself than you. "I'll speak to the Council. Knowing them, it may take some time to get an answer, but --"

You cut him off with a kiss. It doesn't matter. As long as you're together.

#come what may ao3 #wickedscribbles #obi wan smut #ziva courtee #obi wan x you #obi-wan series #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x oc #obi-wan x oc

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9tzuyu · 4 years

Text

‘run into me sunday’

1/2

summary: natasha wants to help, you have no other option.

warnings: this fic deals with the topic of anorexia, so please don’t read if this may trigger you. yes im projecting my issues into fics again im sorry.

notes: future wanda? idk :p

tag list: @natasha-danvers

requests are open.

natasha was articulate with everything she did. whether it be something as big and important as a mission, or something small as organizing the research she was studying. she was careful, picked up on all the small things other people did in life and remembered them.

so when it came to her attention you were beginning to skip meals, she didn’t push it to the back of her mind and forget about it. instead, natasha treaded carefully, tried to push you lightly to have breakfast with the team or stay for lunch – to spend time with everyone at the dinner table.

but when nothing worked natasha confronted you. she didn’t expect it to go well, she knew it wouldn’t, but the redhead didn’t think you would completely disappear on a four month mission the next say.

there was nothing she could do after that. except wait.

during the four months of your absence, natasha took her time to better educate herself on how to help a loved one with an eating disorder.

don’t be too pushy.

don’t not push at all.

leave the person be.

offer support.

force feed the person.

inpatient recovery.

there was no solid answer as to how to fix you and that bothered nat, more than she liked to admit. it was a tricky situation, but natasha knew you – knew you before your eating disorder. so rather than listening to every little thing every eating disorder resource website said, she figured to trust herself.

the redhead almost forgot about the house she bought. she rarely ever went there because it was so far away from everything and everyone, but her house seemed like the only reasonable option for you.

the week before you came back natasha spent day in and day out cleaning up the place so it would be ready for you. she removed the guest bedroom mattress, per a rule that you would have to sleep with her so she could monitor what you were doing.

when you arrived back, you were in worse shape than she expected you to be. your suit hung heavily atop your body, loose and unfitting. your face was gaunt and sunken in, your hair was thin and your nails were tinged blue. what was most surprising was the smile on your lips as you greeted your teammates.

you’d completely missed the worried glances wanda, steve, tony and everyone else held. you were too excited to be back, ready to perfect yourself even more. surely no one could see any kind of difference, right? you couldn’t. 35 pounds lost and you still felt the same.

wanda was the first to hug you. her hugs were the warmest. an overwhelming urge to protect you overcame the witch as she rubbed her hand up and down your sickly body. her fingertips met with the aggressive ridges of your spine.

bump after bump after bump.

the witch pulled back and kissed your forehead. “i missed you.”

“i missed you too, wanda.”

the rest of the team welcomed you back in their own ways, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward – out of place even. your footing with the group didnt have the same grip as it once did.

twenty minutes later and you returned to your room only to find that your stuff had been packed and loaded in suitcases. panic began to spark in your body and you scrambled to your bathroom. pushing away bottles of advil and pepto bismol, your laxatives were nowhere to be seen.

“i took them away, if that’s what you’re looking for.” a voice came from behind you.

your eyes fell on the redheaded spy leaning against your bathroom doorway. her arms were crossed, but her face remained unreadable.

“why?”

“i think you know why.”

“i-i don’t understand-“

“you’re coming to live with me. away from here, away from everyone else.” at this, you huffed and rolled your eyes as you shoved past natasha.

“this is non negotiable y/n-“

“i know how to take care of myself, natasha.” she chuckled. “yeah, if you call slowly killing yourself self care.”

you didn’t laugh, instead shooting her a glare that told her to get the fuck out of your room. when she didn’t budge, you moved to push her out but to no avail. your muscles had weakened significantly the four months you were away. natasha slightly faltered the second time you shoved her, but her movements were nothing past that.

biting your lip, you looked into natasha’s emerald eyes. her eyebrow was raised and you knew there was no getting out of the inevitable.

without warning natasha pulled you in her arms.

“lets talk.” she murmured quietly. you tensed, but followed natasha to the edge of your bed.

“you’ve got two options. either way you’re benched indefinitely. the first choice you have is to be admitted to a facility that specializes in eating disorders. there, they will be a lot more stricter than what i have planned. your second option is to come live with me. you’ll be expected to eat three meals a day. you can talk to me, or i can find you a therapist and you can talk to them if you feel that is more beneficial or comfortable.”

by now you’d moved to rest your head in natasha’s lap, her fingers rubbing your scalp ever so lightly to ease your anxieties.

“every option you have, you have a say in. i don’t want you to feel forced, but i cannot, will not stand by and watch you do this to yourself.”

there was a gap of silence before you finally spoke. “when do we leave?”

“tonight. everything is set in place for whichever you choose.”

“i’ll go with you,” you sighed. natasha smiled above you before bringing you closer in her lap. “okay. let’s get going.”

#natasha romanoff imagine #tw: eating disorder #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine

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penguintransporter · 3 years

Text

Daisies (a short “anyone you want it to be with” story) Part II

part I | masterlist

According to one of the many dictionaries around the world wide web, the word regret can be described as ‘a feeling of sadness about something sad or wrong, or about a mistake that one has made, and a wish that it could have been different and better’.

No human being is spared of the particular feeling of regret at some point in life, and as such, it exists to teach us new views and ways of doing things differently. After all, we, people are born to make mistakes, to repent and to carry the consequences of things we did or things we do, and in the end, we are made to learn from our experiences.

Still, humans wouldn’t be humans if there weren’t exceptions, and he knows he is one of them.

As he sits up and reaches out for his watch that had been resting on the bedside table, he adds another thing to, what it felt like, a never-ending list of the things he is going to regret sooner or later. Like hypnotized, he finds himself staring at time as it slowly ticks away – each second feeling heavier than the one before, and it takes him a good, full minute before he blinks and looks down at her.

She has a questioning look on her face, but she doesn’t say anything as she pulls the cream-coloured sheet over her chest, which in return, exposes her smooth leg that he eagerly touched, just a handful minutes ago, but now, it makes him sick just to think about his own behaviour. He feels like an awful person for using her as a distraction; for giving in into yet another act of intimacy that meant very little once the moment of bliss and satisfaction left his body.

But, fight fire with fire, they say.

He gives her a small smile – just a lift of one of the corners of his mouth before he looks away and smoothly gets up to put his clothes back.

Both his heart and his head were a mess.

The mess he created with his own behaviour and poorly made decisions.

What are you doing?

He wasn’t supposed to be there, in this minimally furnished bedroom, sitting half-naked at the edge of this enormous bed.

He was supposed to be on the other side of the city, at the airport, just like everyone else who cared about her, and as he slips his t-shirt on, he cannot help but wonder if she even had the tiniest clue about why he couldn’t bring himself to be there? If she expected his absence?

A coward at his finest.

Truth to be told, and he can only be honest with himself when he thinks, he wanted to be there.

He wanted to be there to give her a hug, to wrap his arms around her and breathe in the faint traces of her perfume that seemed to be stuck in every item of clothing she owned – daisies-patterned or not. He wanted to be there for her, like he should, to whisper in her ear to take care of herself and to call him often; to visit whenever.

More than anything, he wanted to admit to her how much he cares, and even if his own idiocy caused her pain in the past, he wanted to be a selfish bastard one last time and ask for another chance for a future together.

He wanted to tell her how much he wants her, every bit of her; how much he needs her.

How much he regrets that he let her slip away.

If only he had the guts to be there and to be honest with her for once. Maybe she would have changed her mind and stayed? Maybe she would have, just like in the movies, turned around just before boarding her flight? Maybe she would have ran into his arms and he was sure that he would have held her, never letting go.

If only.

He knows that he is being foolish.

To think that some empty words would change her mind and make her stay was the most ridiculous thing to do, because, how can he even begin to ponder that he deserves another chance? That he has any right to be selfish?

Deep down he knows that he doesn’t, because, when she held her heart on her sleeve for him to take it, he ignored it, pushing it aside; toppling it over with force and shattering it.

Because all the others were more interesting, more exciting, more everything.

He trampled over the field of daisies, leaving a trail of broken stems behind.

How can he even think that some words would make them heal; make them flower again.

“You can stay, you know,” she speaks as she props herself on her elbow.

He shrugs a little, getting up. “I have some plans for later.”

No, he doesn’t.

She doesn’t say anything, but he knows that she’s watching him because he feels her eyes following his every move, but he finds it difficult to look back. Ashamed, disgusted and annoyed with himself – that’s how he feels because he knows how wrong it is to keep this farce of a relationship going; to keep hurting her, to use her as a distraction. Many men and women would have been more than happy to have someone as stunning as she is as their partner, and at one point in his life, he was one of them, but now, nothing about the relationship felt right.

Empty, shallow conversation that didn’t matter, curt answers, with silence filled moments, and occasional sex was all that was left out of them ever since he realised he was in love with someone else. Ever since he began to imagine some other lips kissing him, some other body in his arms, some other fingers crawling at his back; some other breaths and moans against his cheek – his relationship with the girl who watches him curiously as he dresses himself in a dimly lit room he once was familiar with, deteriorated.

Daisies.

When he finally leaves her apartment, clutching his phone in his hand, he isn’t surprised to see several missed calls and few unread text messages – all of which came from the same person – his teammate, and one of the people who tried to take off the blindfold he carried over his eyes.

As his eyes scan over the screen, each line of the text slaps him harder than the previous one.

You should have been here.

You owe her that much.

Are you really not going to show up?

And then, the last slap that knocks him out – figuratively – is the photograph.

Five people that he cared about so dearly, all huddled together as they grinned at the camera, but his eyes stay locked at one face in particular, and that’s when the regret for not being there overwhelms him even more than before.

Is this how it will end?

Will their story end before it had the chance to begin?

Seeing their faces in that single picture; seeing her bright smile, and those eyes shadowed with sadness – he wishes that he was there as well, next to her, having his arms around his friends, pulling a face or telling a bad pun that would make them laugh before the flash goes off.

The watch on his hand ticks away slowly as he sits in his car, slamming the doors harder than he wanted to. Even if he starts to drive now, breaking every speed limit and ignoring every red light on his way, he wouldn’t be able to get there on time.

He wouldn’t be able to get there on time to hug her, to say every word that was on his mind; to make her stay.

Like writing a poetry book, he adds another verse of regret, lined up perfectly – one after another as he backs his car onto the road, taking the opposite direction to the one that would take him to the airport.

He was late.

🌼

part III

Hope you liked the second part, there will be third part as well, if not tonight then mid-week. I had a really rough and busy patch at work last week so I wasn’t able to update. Make sure to check out my masterlist (pinned post), and to tell me what you think about this one. As before, I kinda want to tag people here because I think they are all amazing writers and mutuals.

@rosie7703, @emwritesfootball, @avenirdelight, @alexajanecollins, @afootballimagines, @footballerimaginess, @footballxwrites, @just-imagines, @donkeykai

If I forgot someone, please message me and I will add you :)

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