closed

21 y.o

[bourneforthis]

You're His Wife, But He Doesn't Remember You.

Pairing: Jason Bourne x Reader (female) 

Words: 2233

Genre/warnings: Angst, fluff, pregnancy, fighting 

Summery: Jason goes to his apartment with Marie, and you’re there, but he doesn’t remember you 

 (Takes place in The Bourne Identity, when he goes to his apartment)

Keep reading 

You hear the buzzer to the apartment go off, and quickly make your way to it. Pressing it down, you say, “hello?” You wait a second before you get a reply. “Hi, this is Jason, I forgot my keys.” “Jason? Yeah, h-hold on.” You buzz him in. You haven’t heard from him in weeks, which happens, but he always found a way to let you know he was okay after a mission. Having heard nothing, you’ve been worried sick. You place your hand on your swollen belly, rubbing gently. “It’s okay, daddy’s home, we’re okay now.” You hear a knock on the door and quickly go to open it. There he is. He comes inside and you throw your arms around him. “Jason! I was so worried!” He tenses, and barely hugs you back. You slowly release your grip and look him in the eyes. “A-are you alright? What happened?” Something’s wrong. You take a step back, just now noticing the woman behind him. “J-Jason, wha- what’s gooing on?” Your voice is filled with emotion. He looks at you, with eyes full of confusion… with fear. What’s going on? He licks his lips, his eyes darting around the room before finally locking onto yours. “I… I don’t know who you are.” You gasp, choking on a sob. How could this happen? This can’t happen. No… You take deep breath, and hold up a shaking hand that has your wedding ring on full display. “I’m Y/n Bourne. Your wife.” His face scrunches up, and he puts a fist to his temple. “Oh god… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You sniff, and slowly walk up to him. You cautiously place your hand on his shoulder. “Jason…” He looks at you, and you move your hand to the side of his face. “Jason, please, how did this happen? Why can’t you remember me?” He looks you over as he thinks how to explain this, and his eyes pause on your five month pregnant belly. His hand tentatively reaches down, and lays across the side of it. “Is… Is this mine…?” You nod as tears fall from each of your eyes. “Yes, Jason… He’s yours.” You move the hand that’s not on his face, to your side, and lay it on top of his. “I’m so sorry…” He whispers, and you watch as he lets his own tears fall. You take a step closer, and gently wrap your arms around him, bringing him into an embrace. He doesn’t fight it, and tucks his face into your shoulder, while his arms circle limply around your waist. You run your fingers through his hair, which has always calmed him in the past, then lean your head against his. “Jason, what happened?” He pulls himself up, and looks at you with his watery, blue eyes. “I can’t remember anything before two weeks ago.” You gasp, stepping back as if you’d been slapped, new tears rushing to your eyes. “What…?” He takes a deep breath. “I know my name, but I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I do. I don’t know what happened that made me forget. I don’t know…” You bring a hand to your mouth, your eyes darting around the room in a daze, trying to find something, anything. “I think I’m going to be sick…” You feel so dizzy… and then you feel hands on your arms. On your back. Pushing you. Now you’re sitting on the couch, With Jason in front of you, holding a trash can. “You- you don’t remember anything…?” Your voice cracks, and you suddenly lurch forward, as you throw up what had been your breakfast. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom?” You both look over to where the voice came from. That woman. You forgot she was there. “Uh, sure.” Jason says. She smiles, says “okay”, then leaves the room to find the bathroom. “Who is she?” Your voice sounds a bit hoarse, and you try to clear your throat. Jason looks at you a moment, before glancing around the room. “Her name’s Marie. I paid her to drive me here from Switzerland.” You hum, slowly getting up from where you’re sitting. “Jason.” He turns to face you. “I can tell you about yourself. I can answer your questions. I may not have all the answers, but I know who you are. I know what you do for a living.” He takes a few steps towards you. “What do I do-” “Uh, Jason? There’s no hot water. It’s freezing!” He pauses, looking over his shoulder briefly, in the direction of Marie’s voice. “Uh, I-I’ll go try the water in the kitchen.” He cautiously starts to walk over into the kitchen, and you follow close behind. “Why don’t you just stay in the bathroom, I-I’ll see if I can… get it hot.” He turns on the water, then picks up a knife. “Yeah, It’s really cold in here too.” He walks out of he kitchen, and makes his way to the hallway. “Jason, what’s going on?” He doesn’t answer you, and continues to look around. You’ve seen him do this before, he’s looking for danger. He stops when he notices Marie in the side room. “The water is still cold.” She says. Jason takes your hand, and leans against the doorway. “Yeah, it’s cold in the, uh, kitchen too.” He drops the knife. “I got it running though.” Marie nods, while smiling. Your grip on Jason’s hand tightens a little, “So…” He starts, then looks down at you. “What?” You ask. He smiles, looking back up. “Nothin’.” You smile a bit, and rub your thumb on his hand. “Are you okay?” He looks at you, and answers easily, “Mhm. Yeah.” You press your lips together, and look into his eyes. “Jason, you might not remember me, but I know you. I know when you’re not okay. You can’t pretend with me.” He holds you gaze for a moment, before looking away. He then let’s go of you hand and starts walking towards the large window. Marie takes a step closer, “What is it? Something wrong?” Jason turns his head in her direction, and opens his mouth to answer, when a man comes crashing through the window. A second later the man starts firing a machine gun, and you scream. You shield your belly as best you can with your arms, and rush into the other room with Marie. Jason instantly starts fighting him, holding the gun towards the ceiling. The man puts him in a choke hold and you gasp. “Jason!”. He quickly throws the guy off of him, and starts fighting again. The man suddenly pulls out a knife, causing you and Marie to both scream, “Jason!”. Jason continues to fight, dodging the blade, and throwing punches. He gets a hold of the guy’s arm with the knife, and try’s to pry it away from him, but the guy manages to kick him off. Jason jumps back up from the ground, and grabs a pen from the desk. They start fighting again, and Jason stabs him with the pen, then continues to block attacks and retaliate. He then stabs the pen into the guy’s hand, causing the guy to drop the knife. Jason kicks him, and he slides across the desk. The man gets up, faces Jason, and slowly pulls out the pen before advancing again. Jason is able to quickly break the guy’s leg, then his arm, elbowing him to the ground. He stays down. Jason bends down beside him, and grabs the guy’s bag, then tosses it to Marie. “Open that! Open that, tell me what’s inside!” Marie fumbles with the bag, while you take deep breaths, trying to calm your heart rate, and continue to look at Jason and his attacker. “Who are you?” Jason asks him. Marie dumps the contents of the bag on the ground, and you briefly glance down at her before your attention is back on Jason. “Who are you?” The man doesn’t answer. Jason slams his head down on the floor, “Who are you?” He still doesn’t answer. Jason slams his head down again, and starts asking him the same question in different languages. “Oh my god…” You look down at Marie, and see papers in her hands. One has Jason’s pictures and the other has Marie’s. “Oh god, oh god…” You furrow your brow, bending to get a better look. “Marie, what-” She looks up at you, then to Jason, “He’s got my picture!” Jason looks over at her, and lifts his hand, as if to tell her to calm down. “Alright, just- hold on.” Marie keeps talking, now in a different language. You place your hand on her shoulder, “Marie, calm down. Just ca-” She ignores you, gets up, and starts walking towards them while talking frantically. Jason sees her coming, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, don’t- stay there! Stay there!” She doesn’t listen. “Marie! You need to calm down!” She walks over towards the them. “Marie!” “This was yesterday, I don’t- how- where do you get this? These- how do you get my picture?!” You walk over, and take her arm, “Marie, no!” “Marie, Marie, stay there, stay-” Jason is standing up now, and takes both her arms, pulling her away from the man. “Where do you- get this from?!” Jason has to pick her up, and she shouts trying to get out of his hold. He sets her down, “Don’t do this! I’ll do this! You stay there! Stay there!” You hear a growling sound and look behind you to see the man get up. You gasp, taking a step back, before you feel Jason’s arms wrap around you, pulling you back behind him. Then the guy turns around and runs through the glass window, flips over the edge of the rail, and falls four stories. There’s silence, as you all catch your breath. You feel hands touch your shoulders, your arms, your belly, then your face. You look at Jason. “Are you alright?” He nods, while his eyes continue to look you over, checking for injury. “Are you?” He asks. You smile at his concern. He was always so protective of you before, and it seems like he still is. It fills you with hope. “I’m not hurt, Jason. Just a bit shaken up.” He nod, looking you in the eyes, “Okay, okay…” He looks over your shoulder, to Marie. “You okay?” She just nods, while her face is all scrunched up in confusion and worry. Jason turns his eyes back to you, “We need to leave, it isn’t safe here.” You let out a shaky breath, “Okay. Let me pack some things. I’ll be quick.” He nods, then steps back away from you so you can go pack a bag. You don’t get much, just some sentimental things, and your wallet. You walk back into the entry room, where they’re waiting. “Are you ready?” Jason asks, and you nod, while putting on your coat. “Yeah, let’s go.” He opens the door, and the three of you walk out. You walk down the stairs, to the lobby, and see Miss Ada, sitting in a chair, dead. Shot in the head. You gasp, stopping. You feel like you’ll be sick again. Jason grabs your arm, “Come on.” You start walking again, and you all exit through the door. To the right, a group of people are gathered around a body. The guy who attacked Jason. “Don’t look.” Jason quickly tries to block your view. You’re shaking, and are pretty sure that if you had more to throw up, that’s what you’d be doing. You three walk across the street, to a little red car. Marie goes around to get in, and you put your hand on Jason’s arm. “Jason, we can use my car. It’s right over there.” You point behind you, next to the apartment building. He looks at you a moment, before nodding. “Okay. Hold on.” He opens the drivers door to the car, and gets in, leaving the door open. He starts talking to Marie, telling her to go to the police, and tell them what happened. She argues against it, and you bend down, to make eye contact with her. “Marie, you need to listen. This, what’s happening, is very messy and very dangerous. You have a chance to get out. You need to take that chance. Okay? Go to the police, and tell them what happened. You’ll be okay.” She stares at you a long moment, before nodding, pushing her lips together. You stand back up, as Jason reaches over to give her a hug. He gets out of the car, and, Marie climbs into the drivers seat. She looks out of the window at Jason for a moment, then turns the car on, pulls out, and drives off. You both stand there a few seconds, looking in the direction she left, before Jason takes a look around, then looks at you. “Where’s your car?” You take his hand, turning around to cross the street again. “This way.”

[liebgottlover]

a/n: just something loosely inspired by the supernatural episode where Dean shows up to Lisa’s and meets Ben but much more angsty!

[ Joe Liebgott x reader x Eugene Roe ]

The Life We Never Had

Joseph Liebgott never knew what became of you after the war.

But mostly because he didn’t even know what became of himself.

He disappeared the moment he stepped off that ship back onto American soil, waved goodbye to you and promising to write, but never finding the courage to.

You had managed to find a quiet neighborhood and settle down, occasionally attending the reunions when you were able.

The first one you missed was the first one Joe attended.

George Luz quieted when Joe entered, Don Malarkey turning around to see what Luz and Chuck Grant were staring at so intently.

Bill Guarnere let out a low whistle while Babe Heffron drank his beer.

“Liebgott.” Richard Winters greeted him first, followed by Lewis Nixon, “It’s good to finally see you again.”

“Likewise, sir.” Joe saluted him out of habit. Winters saluted back.

He found himself sitting at a table with his old pals, reminiscing and catching up.

Joe was doing good not scanning the room for you. But as he was trying his hardest not to look for you, he noticed several absences. One stood out to him the most besides yours.

“Where’s Doc?”

Silence.

Then, “He’s with [name].”

Joe swallowed thickly, the air nearly leaving his lungs at the mention of you.

“She didn’t want to come either?” Joe’s voice sounded far away, harsher than he intended.

“Busy.” Babe shrugged, giving him a glare that Joe didn’t miss. Bill elbowed him. “What?”

“Seriously, Babe, shuddup.” Bill insisted.

Joe narrowed his eyes, “What are you not telling me?”

“Lieb—“ Grant began but was cut off.

“Why don’t you go find out for yourself.” Luz slid a paper over to him.

An address.

Your address.

“Preferably right now rather than another two years.”

Joe snapped his eyes up to meet Babe’s annoyed ones.

Knowing how close you were to Babe and Doc Roe, he fully expected some backlash with how he left things. But not like this.

Joe quietly took the paper, tucking it into his pocket. “I’ll go see her now. Thank you fellas.”

The drive to your house was surprisingly quick, and as he pulled down the street he was shocked to realize just how close you lived to him.

Only 10 minutes away.

10 minutes away and he had managed to miss you for two years.

He felt like an absolute dick.

Slowing down as he approached the mailbox with your house numbers on it, he noticed a slew of balloons attached to your mailbox and porch, along with two cars parked in the driveway.

He opted for parking across the street.

Joe’s palms were slick with sweat, despite it being February.

“Coward.” He cursed himself out loud, “Get it together.”

As Joe walked across your yard, he felt like he could explode from nervousness.

Then, before he could even lift his fist to knock, the door swung open.

You looked as beautiful as you always had, but somehow even more so.

During the war, you never had the opportunity to dress up or wear makeup or even fix your hair in a fashionable way.

This version of you was one Joe did not know.

“Hey.” He said.

Hey?

Seriously, two years and all he can manage is a hey?

You smiled, “Hello, Joseph.”

“Hey, cher, I have the —“ Eugene Roe stopped short behind you at the sight of Joe Liebgott.

“Liebgott.”

“Roe.”

Joe didn’t know why he felt so annoyed at how close Doc Roe was standing to you. Or how he called you ‘cher.’ How he was in your house and not at the reunion. How —

His thoughts were cut short by a blur of dark hair coming into view at your legs.

“Mama.” Came a small voice, hands reaching for you impatiently, “Uppie.”

You grinned as you looked at the child, eagerly scooping him up in your arms.

As the child turned, his eyes — your eyes, stared into him with a piercing gaze much like yours. But his face, his face was all Joe.

Eugene sighed, shaking Joe from his racing thoughts, “Edward, you know your mama can’t hold you in her condition.”

You shot Eugene a look, shaking your head softly.

“Joe,” You said, “Why don’t you come in?”

You poured Joe a glass of lemonade as Eugene took Edward upstairs.

He didn’t even give you a moment to turn around fully before he asked, “Is he mine?”

You sighed softly, “Technically yes.”

“Technically yes?” His brows furrowed in confusion.

“You got me pregnant, so yes he’s yours.” You shrugged as if the answer was simple. “But I could never find you, and I was alone. So I stopped waiting.”

Joe scoffed at your words, anger suddenly taking over, “It’s been two years, you couldn’t wait any longer?”

“No.” You suddenly snapped, “No, Joe, I couldn’t ‘wait any longer,’ I was pregnant and young and scared. I needed stability, women don’t receive veterans pay like men do. We aren’t even recognized as veterans for God’s sake.”

Joe softened. “I’m sorry—“

“Don’t cause her any more stress than necessary.”

Joe nearly jumped out of his skin at Doc Roe’s Cajun accent.

“She can handle it, I’ve done plenty of that in the past.” Joe rolled his eyes at Roe’s territorial behavior.

“Maybe. But as my pregnant wife, I won’t stand for you treatin’ her any kind of way other than with respect.”

Wife.

Pregnant wife.

You, Eugene Roe’s pregnant wife.

Not his.

Not Joe’s.

“You married him?” Joe looked hurt.

Your heart ached for him, for the man you once knew and loved.

Joe’s eyes scanned your hand for a ring.

A beautiful gold ring sat on your finger.

His eyes closed slowly, as if understanding he was far too late.

“I waited, Joe. I did.” You began, “I loved you, I still do. But you were gone. I searched everywhere for you, I even went and found your ma. I fell in love with a man who was there. You can’t be angry with me for that.”

“I have a son.” Joe said lamely, feeling like the ultimate loser. Eugene, seemingly taking pity on him, moved to another room again.

“You do.” You agreed, “But he knows Gene as his father. Not you.”

“Can I please be in his life?”

The question you had always longed for.

“Of course you can.” You said, promising it and meaning it.

A moment of silence passed between you two.

“What’s his name?” Joe asked so quietly you almost missed it.

“Edward Joseph Roe.”

Before Joe could speak again, the doorbell rang.

“Come in!” You shouted happily, as if you hadn’t just upturned Joe’s entire life.

It seemed as if the reunion had moved itself to your kitchen as familiar faces flooded the room.

“Hello lovely!” Babe exclaimed as he kissed your cheek, “Hello little lovely.”

“Babe,” You laughed as he spoke to your stomach, “We won’t know if it’s a boy or a girl until it’s born.”

“It’s a girl, I’m telling you!” Babe argued with you as you shook your head.

Grant spoke up as he munched on a piece of cucumber off of a snack tray sitting on your counter, “Definitely a girl.”

“Nah,” Luz shook his head, “Boy.”

Joe frowned. How could he have been so selfish to miss out on a life with you and his friends?

Roe appeared with your son — Joe’s son, who was more than ecstatic to see everyone.

“Hey, little man!” Babe shouted, grabbing the child and swinging him around.

“Be careful!” You fussed.

Joe sat quietly as he observed the life happening before him. His old friends so comfortable in the kitchen of the girl he once loved, the girl he still loved, who was now married and pregnant. He smiled softly at the scene displayed, knowing that just being allowed to be near you and his son would be enough for him.

[seiiven]

A Sweet Night

Paring: Eugene Roe x Reader.

Warnings: Very slight mention of blood.

Intro: A night between father and newborn, after delivery :)

A/N: This is the first time I make a fanfic and English is not my native language, I’m French so please be indulgent !

°°°°

You and Eugene knew each other since your youth in Louisiana, you lived in his small village on the swamps before mobilizing as a nurse in the emergency posts at the back of the Easy Company.

Eugene, when you were younger, made the innocent and carefree promise to marry you in church, he did it when you both became of age.

After a reckless and torrid night to relax from the stress and horrors of war, you have become pregnant, your cycle having decided against your will. When he learned it, he had at first hesitated, it was not ideal to have a child in a war where the other risked dying every day, but he accepted it with deep love.

A nurse held you in your bed while you were screaming because of the contractions of childbirth, Eugene between your legs, encouraging you to push harder. He was stressed and worried, but very professional and severe at the time. After many hours, your adorable baby was born and you were asleep with fatigue, under the cry of conflicting emotions, pain, and the small, muffled, adorable tears of your son.

While you were resting, Eugene cleaned his son with great delicacy and gentleness of your blood, tears gently tingling his eyes, he was a father, finally a father.

The baby was shaking his small limbs, obviously not liking the feeling of cleaning, so he continued to cry little plaintive.

“I know...I know, but I have to take it all off...”

He tried to reassure his child, his voice low and soft as he passed the cloth of warm water on the small body of his son. He noticed that the baby began to hold with his tiny hand, his father's index finger, he was amazed.

He continued to clean it, a happy smile appearing on his features.

“Calm down, calm down little you... I know you’re crying, but dad’s there, calm down...”

He tried to distract him a little, in order to be able to clean the most delicate areas and calm the crying but the little one seemed stubborn to hold his daddy’s finger.

«You really don’t want to let go of my finger, you...»

He then continued the cleaning below, cleaning around the child’s genital area. The little one, out of a nasty sensation, began to wiggle his small legs, his little feet beating in the air.

"I know, I know... it’s delicate here...little guy"

After a few more moments, Eugene noticed that the cries and tears of the newborn had decreased slightly, a sign that he had regained a slight calm.

He then gently lifted the body of his toddler, the skin of the latter being tender and delicate but fragile, sign that he was still very small and vulnerable.

"Here we are...you see?" He smiled delicately as he said those words. He then covers the child in a diaper, allowing him to stay warm and protected in the small package.

He then observed his child attentively, noticing that the features of the latter were identical to his own; a small straight and blushing nose, soft cheeks, well drawn eyebrows, green eyes...however, he had your lips, your softer and more delicate traits. It was a perfect mix of you two. He had always dreamed of having a child with the woman of his life, you.

His eyes were clouded with tears as he gently embraced the child who seemed to fall asleep in his arms after calming down.

After a moment father-son, he gently placed the small package against your chest, admiring the scene of the two loves of his life.

“I will love you...with all my heart...with all my heart...”

[web-gottt]

sudden sounds of footsteps broke you out of your trance as someone sits down next to you in your foxhole - its gene.

"got any morphine left over?" he asks you, his eyes instantly taking notice of how your desperately trying to keep your hands warm by rubbing them together or putting them in your pockets but nothings working.

you shake your head with a small pout, "mmm no sorry gene" you reply, lips trembling in the cold. gene's eyes take over your appearance, pink nose, chapped lips, visibly shaking but yet you still try to look as happy as you can.

there's a small silence, obviously not able to get your hands warm "i hate these shitty gloves" you let out a small laugh, giving up and just rubbing your hands together.

"gimme your hands" roe speaks up. you look at him, and hold your hands out in front of you. roe takes his - just as equally cold - hands and holds them in his, squeezing them tight. his hands are surprisingly soft, and you're not sure if it's your brain tricking you at all but you do feel a little warmth.

gene looks at you, noticing a small humorous smile on your lips, "whats so funny?" he asks, and theres a small smile on his lips now.

"the size of your hands compared to mine" you let out a shivery little laugh as you look up from your hands and to him. it's true. his hands enclose yours. he looks at your enclosed hands, the small smile never leaving his lips. despite everything, you always get gene to forget the world and see the good.

[livingawayfromhere]

that boy

adam banks x reader

i love this req so much, it was originally a lot longer but i wanted to keep it shorter than i had it so it turned out kind of wonky :( but. i did try my best and here it is <3

veeerryy unedited+unrevised I DONT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HOCKEY OR THE GEOGRAPHY OF ICE RINKS IM SORRY IN ADVANCE

req

You knew Adam Banks– Eden Hall Academy wasn’t that big of a school, and it didn’t help that he was one of those famous hockey-scholarship kids.

You knew Linda was well aware of that crew– after meeting Charlie Conway, she had been given a rather harsh first impression of them, and was starting to dislike the team more and more.

On the other hand, you were very intrigued by the player who had trailed behind the captain on the day you helped Linda with the petition to change the Warriors name.

Adam had been walking with Charlie, and had offered to sign your clipboard. From that point on, he’d always caught your eye– in the halls, in the back of science class, in the cafeteria. He was easy on the eyes, and a damn fine hockey player, even being put onto the roster for the varsity team. You talked to him every so often; he wasn’t usually hard to find (more often than not, he was with the rowdy group of jocks strutting down the hallways). And so, you made decent friends, connected and well acquainted, but pushing the line between something else.

It wasn’t like you were unfamiliar with him in the slightest. Your relationship consisted of stolen glances in the halls that held a look that was shared with no other person. You know that look meant something more– but you never pressed on it. Better to leave him hanging to see how long he would hold out if he was really willing to hang around for you– even with the countless students– juniors, even– that were throwing themselves into his line of sight. Everyone wanted to be with the freshman who made varsity.

So you had an idea of what you were getting into when Mr. Harrow, the science teacher, placed the two of you together for a project on the phases of mitosis versus meiosis, exactly a week before the JV-Varsity Showdown. One glance to Adam’s seat in the back of the classroom showed you his raised brows, surprised but melting into a teasing look in your direction. You gave him the same playful look back, and you knew it would only be trouble from there.

-

“Wait, what? You’re telling me I’ll be doing all the work myself?”

“No– that’s not at all what I’m saying,” Adam shook his head. “I’m just going to be away that day, I don’t want you to do the entire thing yourself.”

“That’s too bad. We’d get an A, y’know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

Apparently the JV team had an away game all the way up in Winnipeg, which was a lengthy drive away, so they were staying there overnight. They were leaving Friday morning which meant one thing– he wouldn’t be in class that afternoon to work on the last part of the project with you.

“So, what’s the plan then?”

“I was thinking we’d just get together Sunday and go through it,” Adam replied. “Because we’ll be getting back Saturday. If Sunday works for you.”

You thought to yourself. Seemed like a solid plan– your house would be empty on Sunday, so you felt open to offering.

Adam Banks, at your house.

Wow.

“Yeah, should be alright,” you responded, giving a friendly smile. “My place is free if you’re cool with that?”

Adam’s eyes lit up.

Bingo.

-

Fast forward to the weekend, the assignment across the table and your pencils in hand. It was supposed to be a quick rendezvous– you were both smart enough that the assignment wouldn’t be hard in the slightest– but the act of actually getting it done was proving to be considerably more difficult, what with the conversation floating back and forth between various topics that did not at all relate to the work in front of them.

One particular anecdote Adam told about hockey led to the question: “How’s that going, by the way? Training with Orion?”

“It’s great, actually,” he answered. “Things have been picking up with the Showdown coming up– y’know, with the varsity team– but it’s coming together.”

“Yeah, I heard about the showdown,” you nod.

“You think you’ll come watch?” Adam asked, eyes hopeful.

You shrug, not wanting to seem enthusiastic. “I was thinking about it. Not too sure if Linda will be wanting to go though. I don’t want to be in the stands by myself, y’know what I mean?”

“Sure, yeah,” Adam looked away, nodding.

Before the conversation could progress any further, you decided to leave it at that and bring matters back to the situation at hand.

“Hey, we should probably get started on this assignment, yeah?”

Adam quickly agreed, realizing that the conversation had carried away, and rolled up his sleeves to get started.

Uprighting yourself after grabbing a fallen pencil on the floor, you frowned at the sight that sat before you.

“Adam?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s up with your wrist?”

The one side of his left arm, where his hand met the limb, was clearly red and swollen, even tinging a purple color in spots.

“Oh,” Adam looked away, moving to tug the sleeve back down. “It’s nothing, just from hockey, no big deal.”

“Are you okay?” You tried again, genuinely concerned. “That looks pretty bad,” You pulled yourself closer to him, carefully pulling his arm towards you, rolling down the sleeve again.

“It’s fine, Y/N, really–”

“What happened?”

“It–It’s from last season,” Adam shrugged, like he didn’t care too much. “My wrist got banged up, and I was benched for a bit.”

Your eyes widened. “And it’s still like this?”

“No, no,” Adam shook his head. “It got better. But– it’s from practice– it gets kind of intense sometimes, I get thrown around– we all get thrown around– it’s really no big deal.”

“Adam,” you raised your brows, wincing at the disaster of a wrist. “I’m no doctor, but this is looking kind of terrible.”

“Thanks.”

“I have bandages. Like, gauze stuff. Would it be alright if I wrapped it?”

“You wanna wrap my arm?”

You understood the incredulous look on his face– it wasn’t your average request that popped up during a weekend homework-catch-up session.

“Adam, that looks awful. I know it’s stupid, but I really think you should keep it wrapped,”

It was the look of persuasive concern that won Adam over, giving a sheepish nod that allowed you to quickly jog to the bathroom, returning with the gauze from the first aid kit kept there.

You sat beside him silently, gesturing for his arm. He slid the limb over, and you winced again at the painful sight before ever-so-carefully wrapping it to the best of your abilities. 

You heard him restrain a wince, fidgeting uncomfortably in his place.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, doing your best to keep it wrapped tight, but not painful.

You saw him shake his head from the corner of your eye– he was brushing away the apology as if he wasn’t under any pain. You kept your breath short as you focused, eyes narrowing as you worked.

Tying the knot, you suddenly realized how close your body was to his– any closer and your noses would be touching. You noticed how Adam’s face was tinged a light pink– he was already aware of this before you discovered it. 

You quickly straightened, clearing your throat with a ghost of a teasing grin. “So– anaphase?”

“Right,” Adam shook his head, snapping back to the present, and snatched his pencil into his hand.

-

“Y/N!” 

You whirl in place, your steady pace through the hallway coming to an abrupt halt. You knew whose voice it was even before you turned around, but even so, you felt that flutter in your stomach as your eyes lit up at the sight of him.

“Adam,” You played off any delight with casualty. “I’ve gotta be heading to phys ed y’know, I can’t be late again or–”

“Y/N, you’ve gotta come to the game tomorrow night,”

“I– what?”

“The JV-Varsity showdown.”

“Yeah, I know what you’re talking about,” you shake your head, confused. “But why do you want me there?”

Adam fidgeted in place, shifting his weight between one leg and the other. “I just– I don’t know– I just…”

“You want me there on stand-by to wrap your arm again? You know, they’ll probably have people for that, like, medical or whatever–”

“No, no, just,” Adam stammered. “I just want you to be there. Besides, I mean, Linda’s going to see Charlie, isn’t she?”

You blinked. Linda’s going to the game?

“Well–”

“Just be there. Please. I’d like for you to see what we do.”

“I’ve seen hockey before, y’know.”

“Well, I know, but–” he shrugged, smiling to himself. “It’ll be us. Me.”

You bit back your own grin. “Yeah,” You cleared your throat, suddenly overcome with the butterflies again. “Yeah, yeah, sure. I’ll see about going.”

“Great. I’ll see you then.”

“Maybe.” You smiled teasingly. 

After that, there was no doubt in your mind– you had to go. 

Linda was indeed making an appearance at the showdown– apparently she had been asked to by Charlie, who was clearly looking for some redemption.

After another careful prodding, you found out that Adam had also asked Linda to come to the game. Specifically, to bring you with her.

Sneaky.

The excitement that rumbled through your chest was quickly overpowered by tension. Your chest felt heavy as you watched as the varsity took every chance at hand to strike at the team you were rooting for. Your eyes were trained on number 99 gliding up and down the ice, racing to catch the puck and jump in to clear the net. He seemed like he was hanging on though, which was all that you needed for some sweet relief. The Ducks weren’t giving up.

It was the final period, a time out where Orion could give out the last words of encouragement to pull out a win for the Ducks. You felt your legs pick themselves up from your seat, making your way down to the ice, as close as you could get.

You saw them begin to disperse when you realized it was the last chance you’d get before the end of the game. 

“Adam!”

You saw his head perk up at the sound of his name, his eyes lost until meeting yours. His face tilted in confusion, asking a question.

You nodded your head to the door where he had gotten onto the ice at the beginning of the game, telling him to meet you there.

He gave you a look, confusion, worry. He thought something was wrong.

Sooner or later you were there, meeting him on the ice but keeping the bottom of the heavy door between you. It was crowded, people standing in your way and trying to get you to move until they encountered the way Adam brushed them all away. He held onto your arm, keeping you close, and you gripped his jersey, forbidding him from escaping.

“Y/N? What’s wrong– you’re not leaving, are you?”

“No, Adam, I–” you stopped watching as the rest of the players on the ice circled around, waiting to start. You needed to speed this up. 

“God– there’s no time, I just–”

You met his eyes, pressed up against him. His eyes were so animated, the adrenaline from the game igniting a fire in his eyes that could only be found when he was on the ice where he best belonged.

And– screw it, you just did it.

You kissed him fast, hard but meaningfully. 

He froze, but quickly melted into you, dropping the helmet that had been in his hand onto the ice below him.

You heard a whistle somewhere– probably from the bench where the rest of his team was sitting and probably watching– and pulled away.

You watched as he blinked, stunned.

“Wha–?”

“Go,” you shoved him lightly. “Get out there and win,”

He nodded, gathering himself together as he picked up the abandoned helmet. He shoved it onto his head, nodding. He went up to you again to grab your hand, giving it a squeeze. It wasn’t much, but you knew what it meant.

He’d come straight back to you after.

-

req by @tsunchani

i do not consent to my work being replicated, modified, reposted, or redistributed.

[ohtobeleah]

Clover Club // Robert Floyd

Summary: After a near fatal accident, Bob comes face to face with the reality that time really is fleeting. Deciding that taking the leap to love you while he has the change is better than to not have had the chance at all.

Warnings: Robert Floyd x Reader. Mickey Garcia x Stepsister!reader. Depictions of injuries sustained from a serious car accident. ANGST! & a lil bit of fluff.

Word Count: 8.3k

Author Note: I don’t wanna hear shit about this one. This is 100% Whump. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m sick in the head—but this entire concept was inspired by Claire’s accident in McLeods Daughter’s. If you aren’t Australian and haven’t seen it just look it up on YouTube. SAD BOI HOUR. Also: this also serves as a milestone post—thanks for the 2k following.

Bob hated his birthday. He had for three years. Not because he didn’t like presents or because he didn’t like cake. It wasn’t because he did have friends and family who would celebrate with him each and every year that passed. It wasn’t because he was a lonely person or someone who didn’t mind the day being about him.

It was because it served as a memory of the women he lost. A memory he could never ever forget even if he tried. How could he? Reaching out across his bed to be met with emptiness– Bob opened his eyes with a long drawn out yawn. Looking around the bedroom to be met with just himself. Sitting up, Bob threw his legs over the side of the bed. Noticing the date on the alarm clock that sat on his bedside table.

His Birthday–

Keep reading

[folkloric04]

I promise you this ⋆˚࿔ part one

summary: you have a past with cassian andor. months later, after the harrowing days of rogue one, he brings you on a recon mission. it’s the first time the two of you have spent this much time alone since everything fell apart - and since the two of you stopped sleeping together. despite your best intentions, things go wrong in the field during recon — and to top that, the cooling unit breaks on the ship. heat pressing in from every corner, confessions bubble to the surface, even when you are determined to keep them behind lock and key.

cw: 3.2k words, cassian x reader, language, angst, arguing, post rogue one (but cassian made it out)

Cassian is quiet in the cockpit.

You're working on the cooling unit in the cargo hold - which has decided to break again - as the ship sails through hyperspace from Kol Iben's estuary moon Trask. The sea of light casts the cargo hold in waves of blue, dancing across your legs as you lie on your back in the open panel of the ship wall.

It's been a few hours. If your internal clock is right, you've got a few more until you arrive back on Yavin. The recon mission was a bust; just a bunch of false leads and dead ends, leaving both you and Cassian frustrated and ready to head home after a nasty argument in the shipyards on Trask.

You'd already been pretty pissed when Cassian pulled you from your assigned squad. Apparently, he thought you'd be happy to get a chance to go off-world, but he was wrong. Even if you did want to start doing recon, Cassian was the last person on base you wanted to work with right now, even if he once used to mean more to you. A great deal more.

Back when Bix left, when you'd been benched from missions after getting injured, you'd both been lonely. What started as something causal ended up being a recurring way to blow off steam. Cassian used to be the only person you trusted, the only person who could make everything else fall away.

Then, Rogue One happened; Cassian took a step back from command. And from you.

He left Yavin for a while, and by the time he got back, it was clear the little pocket you'd built together wasn't functional anymore. You argued anytime you were together; over missions, command politics, training.

He was the first person you met on base when you were taken in with the Rebellion, and now it seemed like he was still on Aldhani, galaxies, and lightyears away from you.

You'd moved on with more bitterness towards him than you'd wanted to carry. But you knew it was never anything serious, nothing to lose sleep over.

And yet, you did lose sleep over it. Something in you felt more about the situation, about Cassian; that much was clear.

But that was nearly an entire cycle ago. Since then, you've been on a few missions together, but never alone. Not like this.

A pipe squeaks above you just as you finish bolting the one to your right, and smoke shoots out, making you jump. You bump your head on another pipe and curse, hand flying out to try and twist the pipe away.

"Andor!"

Footsteps pound, and Cassian's face appears.

"Tape! Yellow!"

The tape appears. You grab it.

"I need - shit," you wince as the steam begins to shoot out in aggressive puffs, "your hands, hurry!"

He climbs into the hole, and squeezes himself into the space. You wiggle to try and make room as his knees slide onto either side of your right leg, hand bracing himself up beside your head.

"Hand, here." You grab his free palm, warm and rough, and wrap it around the base of the pipe as you wrap the yellow tape furiously around the burst metal. You bite the end to tear it and hold the end piece, fastening it as best you can.

The hold grows silent. You lie still, waiting to see if it will work. A few seconds pass, and the pipe stays secure.

You breathe out in relief. Cassian's relieved sigh meets yours, and you glance up at him, at the way he's caged you in with his arms. His nose just barely grazes yours, but his eyes don't quite meet your eyes. Albeit a bit awkwardly, you say, "I think it should be good now."

He clears his throat. "Right." It's the first word he's spoken since you got on the ship. For a minute you think he might say more, but then he's shimmying backward, returning to the hold. You watch his boots hesitate, then turn promptly back to the cockpit.

Your heart is hammering in your chest. It's just the adrenaline from the moment; you know it is. You take a few steadying breaths and pull yourself out of the crawl space. You stand there for a second. You could either go back to the bunk and nap the rest of the way, or tinker with something to pass the time.

You end up joining Cassian in the cockpit.

He's sitting in the pilot's seat, tapping mindlessly on the holopad in his hands, most likely finishing up the mission report to send to command. He doesn't look your way when you sit.

You really don't want to be the first to break, but you know, with him, it's better to apologize - or finish fighting it out - now rather than back at base.

"Thanks," you mutter weakly. "For the help."

He's quiet.

"Cooling system should be working now. For at least a little while longer."

He nods.

You roll your eyes and shake your head, scoffing to yourself. "Maker, Cassian, you could at least look at me."

He tosses the holopad onto the empty seat behind him and snaps his gaze to yours. "What do you want me to do? We failed the recon. We're going back to command with empty hands. I'm not going to be complacent in small talk just because you need to feel better."

You stare at him, mouth slightly agape. Cassian never was one to mince words.

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. Something about the way he clenches his jaw and leans forward, elbows on his knees...it reminds you of all of those fights so long ago. A spark snaps in your chest.

"Fuck you, Cass." You stand and storm past him into the cargo hold. Your chest feels tight, your cheeks burning, though you know you're running hot because you can feel the anger rising in you, spreading through your chest, warming your face. It's too easy with him; he always manages to get on your nerves somehow.

Surprisingly enough, you hear Cassian's footsteps behind you.

"Don't stomp off like some youngling-"

You spin on your heel and shove him, hard. It sends him back a few steps, baffled. "Don't do that," you tell him, laughing humorlessly. "Don't act all high and mighty. I was trying to apologize."

"I think you were waiting for one from me," he comments, hands on his hips.

"What, for yelling at me in the shipyards? For bringing me here? For screwing up the recon?"

He sighs, annoyed. "It was faulty intel, it had to be. Nothing made sense; things didn't add up the way they should have, you did what you could with what you had."

"So it is my fault?"

"No, I'm not saying that-"

"Draven's fault?"

"No-"

"Your fault?"

Cassian curses and it only emboldens you. All desire to settle things between the two of you is gone. You cross your arms. "Maybe you brought me here because you just felt like arguing with someone familiar. Or maybe you thought you'd get a good fuck when this was all over?" Sweat is forming across your forehead, rolling down the nape of your neck.

Cassian's head snaps over to you and you know you've hit a nerve. He clenches his jaw. At least he's finally looking at you.

His eyes are dark, darker than you remember. "Look, I am sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. Not in the shipyard, not here. It's no one's fault the recon went haywire. And yes, I could have picked someone else," he says. "But here we are; I picked you."

You groan, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. When you open them, your eyes catch on the cooling unit. Light smoke is slowly emerging from the grill, making you freeze.

Cassian sighs, oblivious. "I really don't want to argue again-"

You wave him away and hurry over to the grate, sliding underneath. It's coming from the pipe you just fixed.

"Dammit." You lean over and check the valve. The temperature is already twenty degrees above what it's supposed to be. You lay there for a second, trying to come up with some other possible solution.

"Everything okay down there?" Cassian's voice echoes.

You sigh, closing your eyes.

Sliding out, your body feels heavy. You shed your jacket, letting the heat hit your bare arms instead, and gesture to the cooling unit. "I can't do anything else. We're gonna have to let it run it's course. The backup coolant system should kick in soon. It'll regulate the cabin as soon as it's over ninety degrees-"

"Ninety degrees?" Cassian scoffs.

You shrug, tossing your jacket at a stack of crates, albeit a little aggressively. "It's all we can do, Cassian, unless you'd like to give it a try?”

Cassian rolls his eyes and says something under his breath in Kenari.

“Thought not,” you mutter. You head over to the refresher and turn on the water. It comes out cool, and you splash some onto your face in relief.

You run a few rags under the water, placing one of them on your neck. On your way back to the cockpit, you toss Cassian the other, who has shed his jacket as well. He catches it and raises his eyebrows in consideration.

"Give it an hour."

"Whatever you say," he mutters.

Unfortunately, an hour later, you're still sweating your ass off like you're on the dunes of Tattooine.

Both you and Cassian have stripped down to your underwear. In any other situation, you'd be self-conscious and overly aware of being half-naked in front of someone who used to see you fully naked nearly every night. But right now, you're too hot to think about anything else than the cool rags against your skin, and the little air you're getting from the hand fan you found in the cargo.

Cass' hair is damp and slicked back, small curls forming at the nape of his neck. He's just as muscled as he used to be, maybe more so; strong legs and arms. He has new scars, though. There are a few near his ribs, and a particularly nasty one on his shoulder - a blaster shot, by the looks of it.

He catches you staring and you quickly look away, sighing. "Any minute now," you tell him, glancing over at the cooling unit. This issue really should have been fixed at base. Some idiot must have passed over it during inspection.

A couple more minutes flow by in silence. You offer the fan to him. He fans himself a few times, then stops.

His voice is so quiet you almost miss it. "Don't you want to know why I brought you with me?"

Yes. "Not really," you reply, a slight mocking to your words. "I'm sure you had reasons beyond my greater understanding."

He stands abruptly, startling you, and paces a few times. Then he turns, hands resting on his hips. He's standing there in his undergarment shorts, and yet, even still, he's every bit the imposing Captain Andor.

"I thought we could make amends, but you've made it apparent you don't care."

"Don't care about what exactly?" you ask, standing to join him.

"About this," he gestures between the two of you, and you can't help but laugh.

"This? What the hell is this? There's nothing even here anymore. You made that clear when you told me to fuck off after Rogue One." You take a step closer to him. "I lost people that day too, Cass, you forget that."

He lowers his eyes. He knows you were close with the team, with Jyn. You would have been on that mission if you hadn't been injured.

But the chances of you being here right now if you'd been on Scarif that day...Cassian was lucky beyond anything you'd seen in your life. He should be dead.

And yet.

"I just-" Cassian groans, running a hand over his face. "I didn't mean any of it," he says, defeated.

"Even when you called me selfish, and cruel? Even when I begged you to stay, to see if we could fix any of this? Even when you decided to leave for Aldhani for three months?"

"If we're being truthful, I'm pretty sure you called me a lying bastard and disillusioned critic."

You cross your arms. Unfortunately, you said both of those things.

"As for Aldhani...I was...I was hurt, it's no excuse," he says, catching the way your face shifts. "I was lost. I didn't know how to cope and leaving felt like the only solution."

You shake your head, gazing out at the hyperspace field. "It's not like it mattered anyway," you say, defeated. "You had no obligation to me. It was clear we weren't gonna work out anyways."

He shakes his head, too, stepping closer. His breath grazes your cheek. "Just because we argued all the time doesn't mean we can't make it work."

"So this is about getting a good fuck again," you scoff.

"Just do us both a favor and move on. Stop fighting so hard."

You turn to head to the cockpit, maybe to try and escape the heat of the cargo hold, maybe just to end the conversation and prove a point. But you don't make it that far because Cassian is grabbing your arm and pulling you back. The world spins for a minute before he pins you back against the grates of the ship wall by your shoulders, a wild look in his eye.

"We both know I'm not going to give in that easily. I fight for what I believe in. And I always believed in us, even when I didn't show it."

Surprisingly, your eyes sting. Things would be so much easier if he would just let it go.

His eyes flicker across your face, and it's like he can read your mind. "I promise you this: I'm not letting us go, not yet."

You watch a trail of sweat drip down his forehead and lie through your teeth. "There's nothing left to hold on to." You try to wiggle past his grip, but he doesn’t budge.

“You’re lying,” he says. “You’re a bad liar when either your heart or your head’s not in the game.” He raises his eyebrows. “So which is it?”

Your nostrils flare. Your arm comes up, hitting the weak spot in his elbow and knocking one of his arms down. It catches him off guard enough that you can slip underneath him and grab his other arm, twisting so, as you spin behind him, he spins too. Pinning his arm behind his back and shoving him against the grate, his chest and cheek hit the wall.

He lets out an oof that slides into an amused chuckle. “Good, good. You could be quicker to spin me, though. Your footing is off-"

“Maker, you’re so smug,” you grit out. But your hands are slipping you're sweating so damn much. It's boiling in here, and yet all you can think about is Cassian, Cassian, Cassian.

"What next?" Cassian turns as much as he can to glance at you over his shoulder. His eyes flicker across your face.

"Disarm, swift kick to the back of the knee or knees: whichever is disabling enough to get you down on the ground."

He smiles, though it looks more like a smirk. "Very good."

You stare at him and try to push back that feeling rising in your chest, the one that you used to carry with you, the one that used to lead you to his bedroom or invite him to yours. But on top of the lust that is re-emerging against your will, there is something else, something raw.

You let go of Cassian and step back, heart pounding. Cassian turns, taking a few deep breaths and wiping sweat from his forehead. "Not going to follow through? Dangerous."

"You're not my enemy," you tell him.

He takes a few steps toward you, an eyebrow cocked. "Sure feels like I am."

You shake your head as he begins to circle you. "Cassian, stop."

He lifts his fists, planting his feet when he gets back in front of you. "Come on," he taunts, beckoning you forward with his fingers. "For old times' sake."

Sighing, you dig your bare heels into the ground, feeling the grates underneath your soles, and raise your arms.

You make the first move.

Kicking out, you aim your foot for Cassian's stomach, but he dodges, flinging himself to his left and countering with a swing of his fist towards your shoulder. But you move with him.

For a bit, you manage to match his every move, landing soft blows and gracefully taking his hits. It's a dance that feels so familiar, the steps engraved in your mind. Each move makes your blood hum, like a chord being struck over and over again.

Cassian's got a shit-eating grin on his face, and you can't help but feel the same kind of joy at how well the two of you spar together. It makes sense, seeing as he practically taught you everything you know.

Cassian's foot catches at some point, however, giving you the window to take him down; a swift kick to the back of his knee, which sends him on his stomach, allowing you to roll him over and drop on top of him, straddling his torso and pinning his arms down beside his head.

He chuckles, his abdomen rising and falling against your thighs. He looks out of breath, sweat sheening his face, his chest. You're sure you look the same way, though. It's one thing to fight in the heat of a Yavin summer morning; it's entirely another thing to fight in boiling heat in an enclosed cabin in the middle of hyperspace.

"Well done," he praises you. "Excellent footwork."

"Can't say the same for you," you tease, trying to regain your senses. You're so close to him again, and it feels so nice, so familiar, it makes your chest ache. "What happened? Trip over your ego?"

He huffs. "Something like that."

You stare at him for a few seconds, catching your breath. "I'm...sorry, too," you finally say.

His brow furrows.

"As much as you infuriate me sometimes," you continue, "I pick fights with you. And I shouldn't be doing that. Not when you're trying to...extend an olive branch, so to say."

"Can we just...start over?" he asks.

You nod. "I'd like that."

He smiles, looking relieved. His dark eyes scan your face, dipping down to your mouth, and suddenly, you forget all the reasons you were mad at him earlier. He shifts slightly, a hand coming up to your thigh, and your stomach swoops so intensely that you almost flinch. You cover it up by clearing your throat and standing, offering your hand to him.

Cassian's smile is still gracing the corners of his lips as he kneels and goes to stand, but it looks pained. His outstretched hand is shaking, his movements jarred.

"Andor-"

His eyes droop, and suddenly, he's falling to the floor.

hey everyone! thanks for reading! this is part one of what is going to be maybe three or four parts - I love writing a good enemies to lovers scenario and then making it all angsty, so here we are lol. keep an eye out for the next few parts! I'm going to try to post every so couple of days while I work out the scheduling for summer heat 🌟 (special shoutout to the force awakens yellow tape) taglist : @spideysimpossiblegirl

[classica-meretrix]

The Little Princess

pairing: postorder66!obi-wan kenobi x younger!reader genre: kinda angsty content/warnings: big age gap (roughly 30 yrs), set about 5 yrs after kenobi, mentions of obi-wan's past summary: obi-wan decides to share more of his past a/n: I definitely didn't cry writing this...

"Do you remember that friend I told you about? The Jedi that married?"

I sat up in bed, watching Obi-Wan undo his tunic. "Yeah? What about him?"

"Did I ever mention that his wife was pregnant when the Clone Wars ended?"

I sat up straighter, my attention hooked as he spoke. His eyes only briefly met mine before they fell back to the floor, his hands still working on shedding layers. "Really? Wasn't that forbidden?"

"So was getting married," he reminded with a laugh. "But he didn't care. Always did his own thing." He looked off towards the corner of the room, a sad smile on his face. "That was Anakin... But yes, she was pregnant, and died giving birth to the baby."

"Oh," I said quietly, my posture slumping again.

"With the fall of the order and the republic, I had to hide her," Obi-Wan continued, slipping into bed next to me. He took my hand in his, but still refused to meet my eyes. "Leia, she had named her. Beautiful baby girl." I ran my thumb across the back of his hand, trying somehow to keep the sorrow out of his eyes. "I left her with a dear friend of both myself and her parents, where I knew she'd be safe." Obi-Wan finally met my eyes, squeezing my hand. He looked on the brink of tears, despite the way the corners of his lips turned up. "Since then I've only seen her once, a few years ago. That alone was more than I could've ever hoped for." He paused, a tear breaking free and rolling down his cheek. "My God, she looked so grown up." A diluted sob racked through him as other tears joined the first. "The spitting image of her mother, but she has her father's will. No doubt about that." Obi-Wan let out a weak laugh at the the thought. I mindlessly brought my free hand to his cheek, wiping his tears. "I don't imagine I'll ever see her again. Not unless she's in some situation so dire I'm her only chance, and that alone would be reason enough for me to stay away. I'd give everything to keep her safe." He broke down, another harsh wave of sobs hitting him as I pulled him towards my chest, holding him tight.

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked through my own broken voice, thick from suppressed tears.

"Not every part of my life can be a lie. I've told you too much as it is, but I want you to know." 

I hugged him tighter, rubbing his back. I knew that even this wasn't the whole truth, just the closest he could get to it, but the fact that he chose to tell me this much said enough. I thought about the time he'd spent here—over a decade—in arguably one of the worst parts of the galaxy, with only a handful of familiar faces, Owen and his nephew. One of which didn't particularly like him, for whatever part of his past he knew, and the other which hardly knew him, and wasn't able to.

I was crying right alongside him, painfully aware of the ache in his voice, and ever-present torment in his eyes. He spoke of this little girl just as he spoke of Anakin, Padme, Ahsoka, or Cody. But there was a clear difference with her. He'd gotten to know and love the others for years, this girl he only got to love, but was never allowed to know, despite the way she clearly meant so much to him.

I cupped Obi-Wan's cheek, turning his head up towards me. "Is this why you wanted me to meet Owen and Luke?" His eyes were red and watery, his cheeks each soaked from crying. He was looking at me now the same way he had at Luke, the same way he did when he talked about Leia. I would most likely never know what made Luke almost as special as the girl, but he revered him with almost as much pain, and just as much admiration. "They're the last bit of your past you have here."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. "They were—were all I had before you."

"I may stress you out most of the time, but you're stuck with me through thick and thin," I teased, earning a weak laugh.

He laid against my chest, pushing me back down to the mattress. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

[classica-meretrix]

Familiar Faces

pairing: postorder66!obi-wan kenobi x younger!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: big age gap (roughly 30 yrs), set about 5 yrs after kenobi, reader teases him about age gap summary: obi-wan takes you to meet someone special

I slid off the back of the speeder, running to the door before Obi-Wan could even switch off the engine. I was practically bouncing in place, waving him on.

"You are a child," he said simply, finally making his way to my side, his voice already tired, despite the early hour.

"Pedophile," I replied.

Besides an eye roll, I got nothing in return. He knew by now that there was no reason to reward my antagonizing, as it'd get him nowhere.

He followed me into the small store, rattling off a list of things we needed. "You get the black melon, h'kak beans, and tubers. I'll get the japor wood and kattana. Good?"

"Good," I said with a nod, skipping off to the bins of produce. Once I'd selected a decent batch of fruits and vegetables, I wandered off to find Obi-Wan. When I found him, he had two bundles in hand—one of fiber, one of wood—along with a small figurine of an R-model droid.

"Taking up collecting?" I asked, resting my chin on his shoulder. He seemed to jump at my voice, then gave me a confused glance before he remembered the item in his hand.

"Oh, no. I'd like to get it for a... a friend."

"You're friends with other children?" I asked with a dramatic gasp.

"Don't call yourself that," he huffed, scrunching his face.

"You started it."

"Can we just pay for these things and go?"

"I guess." He followed me to the counter, piling our items up before stacking them into a tote. Once outside I secured our haul to the back of the speeder, settling behind him. 

It was no more than ten minutes when I realized we weren't going the right way, leaning forward to speak into his ear. "Get lost, old man?"

"There's someone I want you to meet," he called back. I tried to ask more, but he stayed silent until the speeder stopped.

"Come here," he said, offering his hand to help me down. We'd stopped in front of a little farm hut, just outside of town. Obi-Wan reached into the tote, putting the droid model into his pocket. "Owen is... sort of an old friend of mine. Old acquaintance, really..." He trailed off with a puzzled expression. "Anyway, his nephew lives with him, and I knew his father—but he doesn't know that, and I'd like it to stay that way. I just... I like to see him every now and then, you know."

I laughed, putting my hands on his arms. "You're rambling."

"Yeah... Okay, let's just go. I don't want to worry about it."

"Then don't," I offered, looping my arm in his.

"Why didn't I think of that?" he mumbled, but the mockingly annoyed tone helped erase the concern in his voice.

We walked down a set of narrow stairs, spiraling into the center of the hut. There, walking away from us was a man, clearly younger than Obi-Wan by almost a decade, but seemingly just as worn by time.

"Owen," Obi-Wan called, catching his attention. The man spun, squinting to look up at us. His expression was by no means joyful, but it wasn't entirely unfriendly.

"Ben," he said in response, coming out as more of a statement.

"I have something for Luke, if you don't mind."

"No," Owen went on slowly, his eyes scanning me. "And this is?"

"Someone I'd like him to meet."

I watched as they starred each other down, locked in a standoff. Eventually, Owen sighed, deciding his didn't have time for Obi-Wan's stubbornness. "He's in his room," he informed, going back to polishing whatever he held as he walked.

We continued down the steps, Obi-Wan leading the way to one of the lower rooms. It looked more like a garage to me—lose parts everywhere, imperial ship stats, poorly hidden papers scribbled with rebel news—but it was cozy nonetheless. Hunched over a workbench was a boy, young, no older than fifteen. His hair was shaggy blonde, and most of the layers to his tunic were thrown about the room.

He looked up as we entered, a smile coming across his face. "Ben!" he cheered with recognition. "We were just wondering if you'd be by soon. Well... I was anyway. We haven't seen you in a while.

"Been busy," Obi-Wan said with a warm smile, reaching into his pocket. "I brought you something." He produced the model, holding it out is his hand.

The boy gasped, diving for the toy and immediately holding it up to the light. "An original R2 model? How did you find this?"

"A small shop in town."

"No way! This was the last one I needed for my originals!"

They both stared at each other for a moment, Luke's eyes filled with awe and thanks, and Obi-Wan's filled with pure love, mixed with some deep sadness that was only easy to see on rare occasions.

Then the moment was gone, and Luke was hurrying to show him a new fighter ship he'd designed. I wandered around the room, investigating the pieces of old droids and speeders, trying to guess model numbers.

"I'll be right back," Obi-Wan interrupted after some time. "I'm going to talk to Owen for a moment." I nodded, watching him walk back into the sun.

As soon as he was out of sight, Luke's attention turned to me. He clearly thought I couldn't see him, as he stared at me with wide-eyed wonder.

"Do you prefer ships or droids?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, uh... ships. I want to be a pilot one day."

"Rebel or empire?" I questioned with a smirk. His eyes widened even more, trying to assess me. "You're fine, I won't shoot you."

He paused, still hesitant. "Rebel."

I shot him a wink. "Good choice."

That seemed to relax him some, his shoulders falling back into a normal position. He stared down at the ground for a minute, his eyes finally finding mine again, but this time filled with new anxiety.

"Are you and... Is Ben... Are you like... together?" Luke questioned, leaning forward and lowering his voice as he spoke, like he didn't think he should be asking.

"Yep," I replied, failing to hide the amusement in my tone.

"Wow. How'd he get you?" The words tumbled out before he realized he probably shouldn't have said them, panicking again as he looked to the ground. I couldn't help but laugh, making him slowly join in. 

Just then, Obi-Wan appeared again. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. Just a little joke. You didn't tell me he had a sense of humor."

"Sorry, I missed that on the briefing," he answered in his usual sarcastic tone. "You ready to go? We've got to get food home."

"Sure. It was nice meeting you, Luke."

"You too," he said quickly, waving as we started up the steps.

[classica-meretrix]

Working Hard or Hardly Working

pairing: postorder66!obi-wan kenobi x younger!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: big age gap (roughly 30 yrs), set about 5 yrs after kenobi, suggestive, heavy make out, use of y/n, reader's wearing lip gloss summary: you and obi-wan almost get caught a/n: peep the shaun of the dead reference

Obi-Wan pressed me back against the shelves, his lips moving eagerly with mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck, attempting to pull him closer as I tangled my hands in his hair.

"Ben," I breathed, tugging as he sucked on my lower lip. He pushed be back with another wave of force, his kisses becoming feverish as he ran his tongue across the inside of my mouth. He was still covered in grease from the speeder he was supposed to be working on, and smelled like sweat from the heat. I'd be just as filthy as he was, but I didn't care, pulling him as close as I could.

Obi-Wan trailed past my jaw, down to suck on the sensitive part of my neck. I tilted my head back with a moan, both of us ignoring the sound of knocked over bottles clattering against the shelves. His hands slid from my hips, firmly gripping the back of thighs as he picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"I love you," he murmured against my skin, moving to nip at my collarbone. "Just can't keep yourself in line at work," he chided, referencing my earlier stunt of accidentally rubbing against him in the all too tight storage room.

"Accident," I reminded breathlessly, a smirk showing through my words. I grabbed his chin, turning his face up the kiss me again, messily moving my lips against his. Obi-Wan moaned into my mouth, firmly gripping my ass as he pressed his erection into me. I gasped, rolling my hips. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue back into my mouth.

"Ben!" a gruff voice called from the garage, freezing both of us. I groaned as Obi-Wan gently sat me back on my feet, quickly fixing my hair for me. 

We filed out of the storage room, Obi-Wan in front of me, greeting my boss like he'd been doing nothing out of the ordinary. "Yes?" he asked, his tone its usual calm, polished sound.

"Aren't you supposed to be working?"

"Just needed some things from the back. Y/N was just helping we with this gasket on the speeder."

My boss huffed, looking both of his over with an assessing eye. Once he'd seemingly found everything well enough, he turned his attention back to Obi-Wan, motioning to his own face. "You've got... red on you." With that he disappeared again, wandering back to his office.

I looked up at Obi-Wan, the area around his mouth tinted red with lip gloss. "Oops," I laughed. "You've got a little... a lot of my lip gloss on you." His eyes widened, quickly wiping his face off on his sleeve. "Well, it's a little late now," I teased. "He probably thinks you're a crazy person." Obi-Wan followed me through the garage as I laughed, rolling his eyes behind me.

[classica-meretrix]

Cult Yoga

pairing: postorder66!obi-wan kenobi x younger!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: big age gap (roughly 30 yrs), set about 5 yrs after kenobi, mentions of qui-gon summary: you stumble upon obi-wan meditating a/n: happy halloween! favorite fic series in honor of my favorite holiday

I skipped through the cave, stopping just short of the exit way that led out on to a rocky ledge. Perched on one of the higher stones was Obi-Wan, his legs crossed in front of him, and his palms face up on his knees.

I folded my arms over my chest, watching him, sitting completely still besides the warm breeze that caught his hair and parts of his tunic. I very rarely caught him doing this, but I loved to watch him. He looked so... serene, a version of him that was often hard to find.

My focus was broken but some kind of muttering. I glanced around the room before I heard it again, coming from Obi-Wan. Who could he be talking to? He's sitting alone on a rock.

I crept forward, taking extra care not to dislodge a loose stone, or make some other noise that would announce my arrival.

"I don't need your opinions on my dating life, Master," Obi-Wan said into the open air. His tone was chiding, but playful, like the conversation held no real harm.

He may seriously have dementia, but they—whoever they even included—were talking about me, and I obviously wasn't about to interrupt that.

"Didn't you fall in love three different times while still in the order?" he asked his imaginary counterpart with a smug voice.

Now, curiosity got the better of me, and I simply had to butt in. "Do all cults do yoga, or just yours?"

Obi-Wan didn't react right away, as if he already knew I was there. He turned to look at me over his shoulder. "I'm in the middle of something," he said pointedly, despite the fact that he said it with no real edge.

"Talking to your imaginary friend doesn't count," I teased.

"I'm talking to my old master, Qui-Gon."

I paused, staring at him. My eyebrows knitted as I tilted my head to one side. "The dead guy?" He only nodded. "Okay, I know you're not as young as you used to be, but you should really see someone."

"I'm fine. This is not usual, trust me."

"And normally, I would. But right now, I'm not the one convinced that the wind is my dead friend."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, turning back to face the open dunes in front of him. "Yes, she is," he said.

I stood there for a moment, shamelessly mesmerized by the way he spoke so freely, completely at ease in a seemingly nonexistent conversation. Eventually I decided to pad over to the rock, settling at its base to listen to his voice, attempting to fill in the blanks of what the other character was supposedly saying.

[classica-meretrix]

Repairs

pairing: postorder66!obi-wan kenobi x younger!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: big age gap (roughly 30 yrs), set about 5 yrs after kenobi summary: obi-wan's having trouble with the cooler. good thing he has you a/n: I'm actually obsessed with these two

I shoved the door shut with my hip, having to push harder since a fresh layer of sand had settled into the hinges. "Ben!" I called into the hut, hopping down the steps to drop the meat I'd picked up on the counter. "Hello?" I called again.

I was only met with silence, urging me to venture down the narrow, winding hallways in search of him. By time I found him the temperature must have raised ten degrees, and I was fanning myself with the sleeve of my tunic.

"Obi?" I asked, leaning into the room. He was bent over the cooler, his sleeves rolled up past the elbow, and his hair pulled back with a fabric scrap. His only response was a grunt. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to fix this blasted thing," he huffed, setting down his tools just long enough to look up at me. He was clearly miserable, covered in a thick sheen of sweat, and his breathing heavy, but his brilliant blue eyes still looked just as piercing, and I couldn't stop myself from admiring them.

"Why don't you take a break? It's still okay upstairs."

"Lucky you," he scoffed, turning back towards the machine.

I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against the doorframe. "Nuh-uh. We're not doing that."

"Not doing what?" His brows scrunched as he looked at me again, his eyes swiftly flicking over my figure.

"That whole... frustrated brooding thing. It may have worked on padawans, but it's not gonna work on me."

Obi-Wan's eyes widen in amused surprise, watching me more curiously now. "Is that so?"

"Uh-huh," I said with a firm nod, earning a hint of a smile from him. "I'm not scared of you putting me in timeout, or whatever."

"I never put any of them in timeout," he laughed, before apparently thinking better of it, and adding, "Well, that time Anakin stole Master Windu's speeder would probably count. I did say he should think about what he'd done."

I laughed at his little recount, reveling in the way his eyes lit up at mention of his former padawan. His rigid posture had relaxed some from my distraction, and I took the opportunity to plop myself down in his lap, landing with a hearty "oof" from Obi-Wan.

"Careful," he warned in a tired voice. "That knee's been acting up again."

I suppressed a little giggle, burying my face in his neck. "My little old man."

"Don't remind me."

That time the giggles slipped past my lips, Obi-Wan relaxing again at the sound, looping his arms around my waist. I leaned forward to pick up a loose screw from the cooler, pushing it into an empty space.

"Did you try that?" I offered.

"No... I didn't," he answered after a moment's pause. "What would I do without you?"

"Probably succumb to the dementia and poor vision," I teased, tapping his forehead. "But now that you have my brilliance, put this back together, and I'll get dinner started. Deal?"

"Deal."

[classica-meretrix]

Lightsaber Training

pairing: postorder66!obi-wan kenobi x younger!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: non-jedi with a dangerous weapon, big age gap (roughly 30 yrs), set about 5 yrs after kenobi summary: you finally convince obi-wan to let you use his lightsaber a/n: these two are so cute, and I just love that she is constantly giving him such a headache. his number one activity is worrying lol. also writing how the sabers feel was so fun

"And for kriff's sake, be careful."

"I'll be fine," I answered, turning on the lightsaber and almost slicing a table in half as I spoke.

"Woah!" Obi-Wan shot towards me, stabilizing my hands. I'd only just gotten ahold of the thing, and he already looked ten times as ragged as usual. Maker knows it took forever to even convince him to agree to this.

"Please? I swear I'll be careful!" I pleaded for the millionth time.

"It is a weapon, not a toy," he reminded sternly. "Besides, if anyone saw you with it we'd both be as good as dead."

"Debbie-downer much?" I scoffed, slumping back down into my seat.

He let out a tired sigh. "I really don't mean to be cruel. But you have to understand it is a highly dangerous laser that takes years of nonstop practice to master."

"How am I supposed to ever master it without any practice?" I pointed out, earning another sigh from him.

Obi-Wan tightened his grip on my hands. "Please, let me show you, lest one of us loses a head."

"Little dramatic," I said, rolling my eyes, but he simply ignored me, adjusting my grip on the saber.

"When you turn it on, you have to be aware that this a powerful object of the force. Imagine it as a large animal that you have to keep in place. Without proper hold and pressure, you'll lose control.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, applying more pressure to my grip.

"Try it again." I pressed the button again, this time the weapon only wavering slightly as the blade came alive. "Very good," he praised with a warm smile. He moved behind me, slowly placing a hand on each of my wrists. "Now, when you move, start slowly." He guided my arms through the air, pushing my hands to maneuver the blade. It's image almost seemed to ripple, and each movement felt heavy, as if it were cutting through some invisible object. "Good," he said again, his voice a low rumble in my ear.

I took a sharp breath. "If you want me to focus, you're gonna have to take a step back."

Obi-Wan chuckled as he back away, slowly circling my position. "Take your time. Feel the blade's movements."

I practiced a few steady swings, trying to keep my pace to a minimum. His eyes stayed locked on my hands, scrutinizing everything I did.

"You're too stiff. Loosen up a bit," he instructed. "Practice making a circle with the saber, only moving at the wrist."

I followed his orders, the circles widening with each pass. The weapon felt much more comfortable in my hands by now, and I took the liberty of returning to my previous slicing, now with the fluid movements of my wrists.

I realized my over confidence however, when the saber hit a vase, slicing it in two as Obi-Wan jumped back.

"Okay," he sighed through a shaky breath as I hurriedly sheathed the blade. "That's enough practice for today."

[classica-meretrix]

Voodoo Priest

pairing: postorder66!obi-wan kenobi x younger!reader genre: fluff content/warnings: big age gap (roughly 30 yrs), set about 5 yrs after kenobi, more of a blurb tbh summary: obi-wan tells you about his past a/n: actually kinda obsessed with these two...

"Woah, woah, woah," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "You're telling me you're one of those... Voodoo priests?"

"What?" Obi-Wan's previous concerned expression quickly devolved into one of confusion and shock. "I am not a voodoo priest."

"Jedi, whatever. What's the difference?" I asked, waving him off.

"The difference?" he scoffed. He raised his eyebrows, staring at me in disbelief.

"Yeah. I mean, you move stuff with your mind, and wear robes. Voodoo. Priest. Simple as that."

"It may be considered a religion, but that does not make me a priest, and I have most definitely never partaken in any acts of voodoo."

"So it's a cult."

He let out a sharp noise of annoyance, throwing up his arms. "It wasn't a cult!"

"You went by choice?"

This comment seemed to make him falter. "Well... Not exactly. I was very, very young, and my parents made that decision."

"So you were a voodoo priest in the Old Republic's cult?"

"No," he repeated, desperately hanging on to his last piece of sanity.

"That's what all cult members say," I said, picking up my work again.

He let out a sigh, his fingers coming to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Fine. If that is how you must see it, I was a voodoo priest."

"Great," I said with a smile. "clears everything up. Why didn't you just say so?"

Obi-Wan gave me another sigh and dramatic eye roll, deciding it was best to go back to his work on the speeder.

[classica-meretrix]

thinking about . . . ✧˚ · .

postorder66!obi-wan kenobi x younger!reader

lil suggestive, big age gap (roughly 30 yrs), set about 5 yrs after kenobi

・❥・You met on an odd job of his, fixing up an old speeder. You worked in the garage, and you were assigned as his point of contact if he needed anything, which very quickly became to his dismay

・❥・You were much more talkative then he would've liked, and deeply annoyed him at first, but you were used to putzing around a practically empty garage all day, and suddenly there was an interesting attractive older man spending his week there

・❥・When his work was finished you were sad to see him go, but he was back in no time as your boss had taken a liking to him

・❥・Soon he learned to get used to your rambling, and if he was honest with himself, he may have even enjoyed it some

・❥・But he wasn't honest with himself. At least not for some time. I mean, he was almost fifty, he had no business spending most of his time with someone barely twenty years old.

・❥・Yet here he was again, taking a job to fix a hyperdrive, despite the fact that your boss wasn't paying nearly enough for this kind of work, and he easily could've made twice this much by picking up a few errands at the cantina

・❥・Before he knows it he's found himself in the back room with you up against a shelf, your hands in his hair as he hungrily sucks at your bottom lip

・❥・Then a few stolen minutes in a dark storeroom turn into supply runs together, and going out to the cantina because you insisted he "needed a little fun" and he was all too eager to oblige

・❥・It dawns on him after some time that given your current circumstances—you practically living with him at this point—he should probably breach the subject of his past

・❥・Given your age, the most you'd ever really heard about the Jedi were the drunken rambles of smugglers as they stumbled out of the cantina, or the rare appearance of the Inquisitors

・❥・He's worried you'll be mad about him lying, or that somehow the empire's ideals had gotten to you, but you're surprisingly calm when he tells you, and it just turns into more fuel for your teasing

・❥・Eventually you convince him to tell you more about his past, and you learn of his former master, his year on Mandalore, his former apprentice—to an extent of course—and the friends and family he gained along the way

[acanthasdreams]

something there - edmund pevensie ₊˚⊹♡

Guys world history is so complicated they for real got me searching for ration recipes in the UK in 1945 what the heckkkk. Sorry for the historical inaccuracies, and the beginning sounding like a literal history essay </3 (also can you tell I never learned chess?)

After years of seeing the Pevensies, you finally meet them again after the war ends. Turns out Edmund has gone through a lot of changes in just 5 years. A change in attitude (and puberty) seemed to have hit him like a brick, because you started seeing things you never saw in him before.

🐇 . *. ⋆·˚ ༘ *༄  

WWII had ended May, 1945. This brought a time of joy for all of the UK and the world. In more intimate settings, your entire neighborhood was content at being back at home and safe. No one was more content than your mother, who was happy to have her husband home and safe. 

A few doors down, the Pevenises had also moved back in. You hadn’t seen them in a long while. 

Not since getting evacuated to the countryside after the Blitz had dropped in ‘40. 

Your mother had also moved you around throughout the last 5 years, trying to feel the safety she had felt before the war while also waiting for your father to return from the war. Nevertheless, the last time you’d seen any of the Pevensies for a prolonged period of time was Edmund, since you went to the same primary school.

You remembered him as a mean boy, usually picking on girls with other mean boys. As a neighbor, though. You couldn’t but have a bit of a crush on him as a girl. 

It was easy to like the cute bad boys. 

He also tended to not listen to teachers, even though he was smart without trying. He clearly had good memory, and seemed to naturally be good at anything that required strategy and logic. But you understood his choice to be rebellious from him being the younger middle child. Someone had to be the black sheep of the family, afterall.

He’d always complained about his siblings too.

When your families joined for special events, he’d end up hanging out with you and Lucy, forced to because Peter and Susan were stuck speaking to adults about how secondary school was going and how big they’d gotten. You, Lucy and Edmund became somewhat of a trio, forced to sit at the children’s table. By a certain point, Edmund had simply given into the games and you’d gotten quite friendly, especially when it came to competition (he liked playing chess, only because he knew how to play and you didn’t).

Needless to say, the reunion was pending as the neighborhood was back up and running. Your mother was already preparing for the dinner party, finding her best loop holes to make a rationed meal extra tasty.

It was good fortune that you’d joined your mother in grocery shopping, because you found someone you didn’t expect to find.

You were helping your mother get ingredients, consisting of national bread and vegetables for a soup. It was like a scene from a film when you rounded a corner, only to bump into someone’s chest. 

“Oh!- I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you were there!.” You immediately apologized before picking up the item you had dropped, his hand touched yours as he helped you.

“It was my fault, I’m sorry miss…!” 

As you locked eyes you recognized him, those normally cold eyes held a new warmth in them that you had never seen in them before.

“Edmund?”

The boy was shocked as his name fell from your lips. The ring of it felt almost like a distant memory. You’d definitely gotten taller, but he’d gotten even taller than that. He couldn’t help but smile as he saw your more grown-up features.

“It’s you…it’s good to see you. Been a while hasn’t it?” He put the item in his hand in the basket you held. There was a silence that filled the air, mostly because you couldn’t seem to stop looking at him. Like, really looking at him.

When did he get so tall?

“It has been, five years is a long time.” You said, looking him over. You noticed how his shoulders had gotten broader, his hair longer, face more chiseled. Overall more handsome. (You weren’t going to tell him that).  

You muster a small comment in awe, “Goodness, Edmund. You’re so…tall, now.” 

He laughed softly as you said that, but there was an air of smugness in it, seeing as you had both been the same height at 10 years old and he’d always felt funny for that being the case.

“And you’re just as tall as you were five years ago.” 

The teasing tone in his voice didn’t escape past you as you blew a raspberry, “I’ll have you know I have grown sufficiently. I am average height for my age- thank you very much Ed.” 

You half-expected he’d say something mean in return as the version you’d remembered in your head would have. Instead, he laughed and reached over to ruffle your hair lightly.

You immediately tried to fix your hair up after the mess. You too, reached over to flip his cap over his eyes, an action he didn’t take too seriously.

“It is good to see you again, though.” He adjusted his cap again, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

“I missed having someone else entertain Lucy for me. It sure got tiring to play kid games by myself without someone else to suffer with me.”

He had a different air to him after years. He used to be mean, sometimes even cruel for a kid. Even with this new attitude you still somewhat expected him to have that same mean tone laced in his voice that only used to disappear when you would agree to play the games he wanted.

As he stood in front of you now, he seemed sweet. Even his teasing and smirks had no hint of real malice in them. He was treating you like an old friend, which back then you didn’t even fully realize you were. 

With the kindness he presented to you now, you realized you were truly friends back then.

“So you still played games with her, hm? That’s sweet for you to do, as her brother.” You nudged him slightly as you rounded him to get to the aisle you were trying to get to. “Too bad I wasn’t there to be the better one at hide and seek.”

“-You were not, It’s not my fault your mother came into the bathroom while I was hiding in the bathtub.” 

Edmund followed behind as you laughed at him for an incident you had almost forgotten about completely. It’s funny how you were reminiscing with him already.

Despite him being mean, those were good memories.

“Seriously, why would you even think of hiding in there! Because of you, we were banned from playing hide and seek inside the house.” 

He watched you shake your head in mock disapproval as you picked something from the shelves. He took your basket from your hands. You had to look at him questioningly as you didn’t expect him to be this sweet.

“Since when were you this gentleman-like Pevensie?”

“For banning us from hide and seek.” He shrugged, seemingly playful about the ordeal.

You simply laughed as you walked down the aisle together.

“I’m guessing your mother is also shopping for the dinner party tonight?”

He nodded his head in confirmation, “She is, but she’s more stressed out about the rations still being in place. God knows you can only handle national bread so much.”

You had to hum in agreement, before placing your hand on his forearm in reassurance.

“What matters is being together again. It’s been too long, it’ll be nice to see Peter, Susan, and Lucy again too.” You smile dearly at him, and once again find yourself captivated by the warmth in his eyes. The little boy whose heart seemed to become stone as the conditions in London became worse, with his father leaving home and having problems with his siblings, seemed to be a distant memory. 

You got snapped out of it as your mother called out for you. 

“I must leave, but it was nice to see you before the get together.” Your hand finally left his arm, and while you didn’t know it, he completely missed it being there.

“It was. I’ll see you later.”

He handed you your basket with a warm smile, and you waved at each other as you left. You felt a lingering feeling in your heart that you couldn’t quite put your finger on…and little did you know he also felt it too..

. *. ⋆·˚ ༘ *༄

At the dinner party, you finally caught up with all the Pevensies. If Edmund had gotten tall, Peter had gotten even taller. So had Susan, who Lucy had almost caught up with in height. In the last five years, everyone had grown so much.

You’d also noticed the different relationship the siblings had, they seemed a lot closer. The last time you remembered them all together, Edmund would get annoyed over Peter’s teasing or Susan’s lecturing, or Lucy’s imagination. Now, they seem to have grown into their personalities while also seeming to care much more for one another. Edmund had insisted on helping Lucy carry the dishes she’d helped her mother make, and later patted Peter on the back as he talked about wanting to study medicine. 

It was an overall shocking sight to see them getting along. 

Around you, Edmund almost seemed… unsure.He was rather dear, really. It just took a while for him to seem the way he had at the grocery store. It seemed he wasn’t used to being sweet to you around other people, like his siblings, who used to have to scold him for making you upset over kid games. Eventually he got comfortable with openly teasing comments and smirks, which you actually enjoyed as you both joked around with him and his siblings.

After much catching up with the four and Mr. and Mrs. Pevensie. Lucy had insisted you show her your room (which had barely changed in the last 5 years) and play a game together again. You didn’t deny her a chance at re-living old memories.

“But not hide and seek!” said your mother at this suggestion, to which everyone laughed (Edmund didn’t).

Up in your room, Lucy was amazed to find a few figurines you had that your father had carved from wood. She exclaimed that she had been jealous of them when she used to come to your house. She was particularly drawn to one of a lion- which she held in her palm as if it was a good luck charm.

Edmund too, was surprised by how familiar your room was, and teased you about still having a stuffed bunny on your bed.

“I think I remember you holding onto that quite tightly after I turned all the lights off in the room once, Ed.” you mused back, to which he put the bunny right back on your bed.

“I think you imagined that.” He said, putting his hand in his trouser pockets and looking around casually, though what seemed like a light flush appeared on his cheeks.

“Sure, Ed.” Even Lucy giggled as she’d remembered. He had teased her of being scared of the dark that time and you’d taken revenge for her.

“Do you still have your old chess set?” Edmund tried to steer the conversation away from the embarrassing moments he’d lived in your house.

In chess, he was a winner, there was nothing for you or Lucy to bring up about it besides his wins. 

“I do. My mother almost sold it for extra money during the war, but I was hoping we’d get a chance to play again some day and convinced her into letting me keep it.” Rummaging through your small closet, you pulled out the old thing. It was your fathers, and he’d given it to you.

“Have you practised much? Or should I expect to win forever?” His lips formed a smile as you let the chess pieces fall onto the carpet. 

You seemed to think before chuckling and shaking your head, “You should expect to win.”

Knowing that meant you had indeed not practised, both laughed. Lucy ended up getting called a moment after by her mother. She left rather enthusiastically, an energy she seemed to naturally exude. Though she had absent mindedly forgotten about the game she wanted to play, she seemed to just be happy to have seen the lion figure and relive her memories of playing together in your room.

Now alone with Edmund, you sat in silence for a few moments.

“Soo…” you started, putting the chess pieces onto the board the way Edmund had taught you long ago, if you could remember.

“So?” He repeated, smiling as he sat down on the carpet with you.

“You’ve changed a lot since I last saw you…what brought on the change?”

He seemed to think, taking the opportunity to reach over to correct the mistakes you’d made with certain pieces on the board.

“Honestly...” You let him fix the pieces of the board, his hand brushed against yours as you let him take the final piece from your hand. He did it so gently, in the past he might have even snatched it from your hand.

“When we went off to the countryside I did something really bad towards my siblings. That’s what really changed me. I couldn’t keep acting the way I had, especially towards the only people I could rely on during those times.”

You nodded in understanding, seeing the change in his eyes as he seemed to reminisce.

“I see…well, I know you used to be well- coarse and unrefined.” you chuckled softly, and Edmund couldn’t really bring himself to disagree. “So I can say that those bad things happened for a good reason…you’re much sweeter from what I can tell. Kinder than I remember, though you’re also still the same. In a good way. I didn’t quite see it there before, but now it’s more apparent.”

Edmund couldn’t help but feel a little flustered by your kind words. No one had pointed out his change to this extent, complementing him on his kindness and sweetness of all things.

“I…appreciate that.” he motioned for you to go first, long ago he decided to compromise by letting you be white. Though that still never really gave you the upper hand.

Moving one of your pawns forwards a step, you began the game.

“I’m...sorry if I was cruel to you back then.” 

He, too, moved one of his pawns forwards. Edmund felt strangely comfortable with you even after so long, he just naturally felt the urge to apologize. You were always so sweet to him even when he was mean. And now, you both seemed to easily meld together even after how he acted in the past.

Something glimmered in your eyes as you saw him fully become himself in a way that made his heart almost flutter.

“Well, you're no prince charming yet Pevensie. But your lack of mean and sarcastic comments is certainly something I can easily get used to.”

He snorted at the prince charming part, finding it amusing in many ways. You were playing while you had been talking, and he already found himself in possession of one of your pieces.

“Don't get too used to it, I am still capable of welding my skills of sarcasm against you, even if they aren’t mean..” 

“You wouldn't though, would you?” 

Your tone sounded almost challenging in a way that questioned just how seemingly kind he'd become. Would he dare try and say something mean towards you? 

He had to feel flustered yet again. Your smile, and overall presence reminded him of a feeling he'd strike down long ago. A small, tinsey winsey crush on you. He couldn't possibly revert back to being mean towards you.

“No. No, I wouldn't.” He quickly moved one of his knights, snatching 2 of your pieces from the board.

“But not letting your old friend win just once isn’t mean?”

“Your lack of skill isn’t my fault, silly.” 

You had to roll your eyes as he smirked smugly. He appeared just like his 10 year old self did, smug about winning.

‘Old habits die hard, I guess.’

“I hope dinner gets called soon.” you pouted, finally getting the chance to take a black pawn from him.

“So you can quit? We just started!” He laughed softly as he made another move on the board.

If you could understand chess, you'd know what moves he was planning…but you didn’t know at all.

“We both know you will win, Ed. You always did."

He shook his head over you saying this, then swiftly moved around the board to sit next to you. His arm brushed against yours as he pointed to your pieces on the board.

“Okay, see here- you aren’t using your rook or bishop enough. Do you remember what I taught you before about how they move?”

“Rooks move…vertically and horizontally…? And the bishop moves diagonally?” You answered, sounding unsure though since you were distracted by his side profile. You were forced to stare in the way you did at the grocery store. When did he get so handsome?

“Exactly. You’re very focused on using just the knight and the regular pawns. Even if it’s risky, since you’re still a beginner, you should still use all the pieces.” He seemed very focused on strategizing against himself, pointing to the board. You had to raise your eyebrow at the ‘still a beginner’ comment, though.

“See you could move this here, or this here and take more of my pieces. See? Easy.” He smiled at you in a way that made your heart jump.

Though your mother had taught you well that staring was wrong, you couldn’t help it in the moment. His presence wasn’t icy cold like before. Instead, the way his delicate finger pointed at the board and handled the chess pieces to show you the moves you could make to have a better chance at winning was warm.

His cinnamon colored eyes looked at you as if the five years you’d gone without each other didn't exist. He felt gentle.

“Hm…yeah, seems simple enough.” you muttered, unable to take your eyes off him just yet. He seemed to notice as the familiar flush rose to his cheeks just slightly.

Who had ever thought Edmund Pevensie, cold little Edmund would now be sitting beside you and helping you win against him?

“Guys! Dinner’s all set up-”

Susan walked in to you staring at Edmund with a certain passion in your eyes, and her brother looking flustered in a way she'd never seen before.

“Well. You guys were quick in warming up to each other.” She teased, her red lips were set in a cheshire grin as you both looked up at her with wide eyes, “Stop your flirting, the table is set and our parents want everyone down there.” 

Without another word, she turned around and left, making sure the door stayed open.

Edmund cleared his throat as he got up.

“Ignore her…she's grown to be quite a, uh- romantic.” He held his hand towards you as you giggled.

“Well, I guess she's at least right about us warming up to each other." 

You took his hand firmly, allowing him to help pull you up from the floor. The hold your hands had lingered for quite a bit as you stared at each other again.

“There's just something in you that makes it easy.” Edmund mumbled, before remembering the fact you had to go down for dinner. “We should go down for dinner.” 

You nodded in agreement, then realized Edmund had already begun leading you out the door by your hand.

As your eyes lingered on the back of his head, you had to think that those feelings were coming back.

That the warmth Edmund Pevensie now held, the little something you'd never noticed was there before, was making you fall for him.

[cloveswifey]

hi! I think you write for Peter Pevensie so here goes ; I think about Peter dating shy! Reader who is a bookworm (they meet in the last hallway) (in the second film) in London how if only she will help him control all his anger and makes him forget everything and she is his safe place.

Or something like that, I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense, anyway you write it very fluffy and thank you!

London was loud. Not in the way Narnia had been—wild and alive—but in a way that pressed against your ribs and made it hard to breathe. The streets were crowded, the air thick with noise and movement, and Peter Pevensie looked like he was about to shatter.

You saw it in the way his jaw clenched when someone brushed past him too quickly. In the way his hands curled into fists when the world didn’t bend to him the way it used to. He was a king in a land that no longer remembered him. A boy in a city that didn’t care.

And you? You were just a girl with a book tucked under your arm, trying not to be seen.

You met him in the last hallway of the school, the one no one used. It was quiet there—dusty, forgotten, like a secret. You’d go there to read during lunch breaks, curled up on the windowsill with your knees pulled to your chest and your nose buried in pages that smelled like ink and escape.

He found you there one day, storming down the corridor like he was chasing ghosts. His tie was loose, his eyes wild, and he looked like he was seconds away from breaking something.

You didn’t speak. Just watched him from behind your book, heart thudding in your chest.

Peter stopped when he saw you. Blinked. Like he hadn’t expected anyone to be there. Like he hadn’t expected you.

“What are you reading?” he asked, voice rough.

You hesitated, then held up the cover. The Once and Future King.

He stared at it for a long moment, then let out a breath that sounded like surrender. “Of course you are.”

He sat beside you without asking, back against the wall, legs stretched out. You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t used to people like him—golden, loud, burning with something you didn’t understand.

But Peter didn’t speak either. He just sat there, breathing hard, eyes closed like he was trying to forget something.

You watched him from the corner of your eye. The way his shoulders trembled. The way his fingers dug into his palms. And slowly, carefully, you reached out and placed your hand over his.

He flinched. Then stilled.

“I don’t know what it’s like,” you whispered. “To lose a kingdom. To be a king. But I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t belong anymore.”

Peter opened his eyes. Looked at you like you were something he hadn’t expected. Something soft. Something real.

“You don’t talk much,” he said.

You shrugged. “Books don’t interrupt.”

He smiled then—small, tired, but real. And in that moment, something shifted.

From then on, he kept coming back. To the hallway. To you.

He’d find you between classes, during lunch, after school. Sometimes he’d talk. Sometimes he wouldn’t. But he always sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders touched, like he needed the contact to stay grounded.

You learned his silences. The way he’d go quiet when the world got too loud. The way he’d stare at the floor when he was remembering battles no one else knew he’d fought.

And he learned your pages. The way you’d dog-ear corners and underline sentences that made your heart ache. The way you’d read aloud when the silence got too heavy.

Peter never said it out loud, but you became his safe place.

When the anger came—sharp and sudden, like lightning—he’d find you. And you’d sit with him until the storm passed. You didn’t try to fix him. You didn’t tell him to calm down. You just stayed. And that was enough.

One day, he showed up with a book in his hands. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. The original copy. Worn and faded.

“I thought I hated this,” he said, sitting beside you. “But I don’t. Not really. I just miss it.”

You took the book from him gently, fingers brushing his. “You don’t have to be a king to matter.”

Peter looked at you then, eyes soft. “You make me forget everything else.”

You smiled, shy and quiet. “That’s what books are for.”

“No,” he said, voice low. “That’s what you’re for.”

He kissed you that day. In the hallway. With the world outside still spinning too fast. And for the first time in a long time, Peter Pevensie felt like he could breathe.

You weren’t loud. You weren’t bold. But you were steady. You were kind. And you were the only person who saw the boy behind the crown, the heart behind the sword.

And he loved you for it.