#not totally exacts but I love them and they reminded me of each other!!

[dollsinvogue]

Monster High Sweet Screams Draculaura shoes » Kobi Levi bubblegum heels

#not totally exacts but I love them and they reminded me of each other!! #fashion parallels #monster high #doll fashion #fashion dolls #doll collector #dollblr #draculaura #kobi levi

[ordinaryschmuck]

Here's an interesting take about Fionna and Cake that I kind of love.

In Fionna and Cake's universe, now dulled by Simon's sane mind, everyone is totally fine living their dull and mundane life.

Gary might not be a rich prince and Marshal might night be a badass vampire, but they're content with the lives they have and the possible future plans they could share together.

Characters like Hunter, Ice Queen, Flame Prince, and several human reflections of the people in the Land of Aaa might not be as magical as they once were, but they have jobs that are perfectly fine for them and they have no issues living life as is.

And Ellis might be a trash hobo...but that's probably no different from his magical life if it's in anyway similar to LSP's.

The only people who have problems with their mundane life are Fionna and Cake. They're fine with their world and the friends they have in it (at least in Fionna's case), but they're both dreaming for MORE. It's as if, despite EVERYTHING changing, Fionna and Cake still maintained their thrill for adventure and lust for a magical life, which sounds so perfect. I mean, they were the protagonists of their own epic stories, only to now live a life where everything's the same and perfectly mundane. It's as if despite this massive, universe change, Fionna and Cake still has something deep inside them that reminds them exactly who they are and what they SHOULD be.

Also--And this just occurred to me--I love how Fionna and Cake are living the EXACT lives Simon wants and vice versa. As the Cheers theme song perfectly conveys, Simon wants to go to a place where everyone knows your name and the people are the same. Instead, he's forced into a magical world that he feels he doesn't belong in, despite there being people still in his life that gives it meaning. Simon doesn't want more, he wants LESS, acting as a perfect opposite towards Fionna and Cake.

This results in a dynamic of the three of them searching for what they want, only to realize that it's not what they NEED for a happy life. Simon NEEDS to learn that he can live a normal life despite its tragedy. Fionna and Cake NEED to learn that they don't need adventures and magic to be happy. It's only through each other and the adventures they go on that they can learn this, and if that's really where the show's going, I'm ALL in.

#adventure time #fionna and cake #fionna and cake spoilers #fionna campbell #cake the cat #simon petrikov

[acepalindrome]

SDV QoL Mod Recommendations

(1.6 Edition!)

Some years ago I made a big list of some of my favorite Stardew Valley mods, because I am a mod gremlin and there are so many fun and cool things you can do with your game! Modding has changed a lot since then. Some of the old mods have been abandoned and aren’t compatible with 1.6, and lots of new ones are popping up all the time to help keep this 8 year old game fresh and interesting! So I’ve put together a list of mods that currently work with 1.6. Since there are so, SO many mods, I’m just going to list quality of life mods for now. Let me know if you guys are interested in recommendations for expansions, cosmetics and other fun stuff!

Firstly, if you’re new to Stardew modding and don’t know how to start, I highly recommend checking out Salmence’s How to Add Mods video on YouTube. He walks you through all the steps and makes it very easy to get the hang of it! And without further ado:

The Mods

UI Info Suite 2: I’m new to this mod, but now that I’ve got it, I’m not sure how I lived without it! It does so much! It shows your daily luck, any birthdays, if it’s going to rain tomorrow, when tools are ready with Clint, when the traveling cart is in town and more! It also shows the range of your sprinklers, scarecrows, bee houses and junimo huts, and if you mouse over your crops, it shows when they’re ready for harvest! Super useful, and the daily icons are small enough that they don’t feel intrusive. I usually get all my mods from Nexus because it’s easy and reliable, so I had put off trying this one since it’s only on GitHub. I absolutely should have tried it ages ago.

NPC Map Locations: Shows where everyone is on the map. No more running around trying to figure out where someone is to give them a birthday gift! This is an essential mod for me, it’s such a simple but good improvement!

Look Up Anything: This one basically eliminates the need to have the wiki open in another window. Virtually everything in the game can be clicked on to give you more information. Mouse over Shane and press a button to see his birthday, how many hearts he has and how many points to the next heart, and all loved and liked items (with items you have on hand highlighted!) Select the hardwood in your inventory to see how many you have total (including storage you don’t have on hand,) everything it can be used for and how many you need for each thing, so you know how many you need! Almost everything can be selected to give more information!

Visible Fish: Useful AND pretty! It shows all the fish currently available to catch swimming in the water, so you don’t spend ages trying to catch something that doesn’t spawn at a certain place or time! Also it just looks really nice. I love seeing the fish in the river when I’m just passing by!

FriendsForever: Eliminates friendship decay, so people don’t hate me if I forget to talk to them for half a year! Also works on animals, so I can ignore my pigs all winter and they still love me.

To-Dew: You can make a to-do list that will appear on the screen and can be marked off as you complete different tasks. No more will I take a trip to town for seeds and forget that I also wanted to donate to the museum and give Caroline a daffodil! You can also set items to be reoccurring on certain days of the week, if you want to remind yourself to look for forage on Saturday, or make Thursday your designated day to empty and refill your kegs. Very customizable! I also like to make lists of all the seeds I want to buy every season.

TreeTransplant: Robin can now move trees around your farm just like she moves buildings! I’m really bad at planning my tree placement, and it’s so frustrating to have to cut down full grown trees to change my farm layout. Now you can move trees anywhere!

Fishing Made Easy Suite/Combat Made Easy Suite: I love these mods over others that make fishing/combat easier because you can decide the exact degree you want to make things easier! You can make fishing anywhere from 5% easier to 99% easier, if you want to just take the edge off the difficulty, or make it impossible to fail a fish. You can take just a little less damage from monsters to make the Skull Cavern less daunting, or become unkillable and oneshot everything. They also have options to do fun things like put legendary fishing in fish ponds or craft magic rock candy. You can also make things harder, if that’s what you want!

Automate: Machines can pull items from chests, process them, spit them back out into the chest and pull in the next item automatically, without you having to do anything! It can be a little op early on, but it’s super handy when you have a million machines to keep track of. I especially like it for things that have shorter processing times. I can stick a chest of ore and coal next to some furnaces and let it do its thing! Or put a bait machine, recycle machine, crab pot and chest all together. The crab pots will empty and refill every day from the bait generated by the bait machine, deposit fish and trash into the chest, and any trash will be processed by the recycling machine! There are tons of fun ways to combine different machines!

TimeSpeed: Lets you stop, slow or speed up time! You can select time to freeze at certain locations (I like time to stop when I’m inside a building, like in old farming games,) set time to move slower or faster in general, or press a button to change it on the fly!

That’s all I have for now! Links will be coming in a reblog because tumblr is weird about posting links sometimes. Let me know if you’d like recommendations for other kinds of mods, like cosmetic mods, expansions, stuff that adds items or changes dialogue! I love to share the cool mods I find!

#stardew valley #sdv #long post

[scarletwinterxx]

sit down with jeong jaehyun

hello! so this is a new format of story I wanted to do, hope you like it🥺 i do have a few works on the way but I've been so busy with work again and this coming months i feel like so I apologize in advance for the slow uploads.

If you want me to make more of this with the other members just let me know😅 or you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The scene starts with two vacant chairs in front of the camera. Then two people walk in, sitting right next to each other.

"Okay, welcome. Can you introduce yourselves please" someone from behind the camera says

Your partner gestures for you to go first, "Hi I'm Jeong Y/N, 25"

"Hello, I'm Jeong Jaehyun, 26"

:Your last names are both Jeong?

The two of you chuckle, not the first time hearing this question "Mhm, but we're not related in any way. Don't worry" Jaehyun says

: So what are you to each other?

"I'm his girlfriend" you smile, so does Jaehyun.

"I'm her boyfriend"

: How long have the two of you been together?

"5 years"

"7 years"

The two of you answer differently, making you turn to look at each other. "That doesn't count" you tell him but Jaehyun shakes his head

"It does, it's been 7 years baby" he says

"We were on a break" you remind him, he gives you the stare so you turn to look at the camera again to change your answer

"We've been together for 7 years"

The person behind the camera chuckles

: You said you were on a break, what happened then?

"We kind of broke up for over a year, life happened and things got hectic. We decided mutually to end it" you explained

: How did the two of you got back together?

This time Jaehyun answers, recalling the memory

"We have the same circle of friends so we still saw each other sometimes, but this one time we went to dinner and we started talking again. It felt right. I realized how much I missed her and I wanted to give us another chance so I pursued her again" he looks over at you

"He saw flowers outside the restaurant and bought it, he gave it to me and now we're here. We haven't been apart since then" you finish

: How did the two of you meet?

"We met way back in middle school, he was one of the popular guys. All the girls in our grade had a crush on his and would give him their valentine favors. I really didn't think I had a chance" you chuckled, feeling your boyfriend's gaze on the side of your face

"I always get so many chocolates and valentines letter in my locker, but one year I got a whole cake with a small note greeting me a happy birthday" Jaehyun says

"That was me" you say with a big smile. You feel Jaehyun's hand take yours, then he kisses the back of your hand.

: Who liked who first?"

"I guess I did. I wasn't immune to his charms back then. I didn't expect he would notice me too"

"What do you mean? I knew who you were. I was the one who confessed first"

"Yeah because your ears would always turn red when we talked, you got busted" you tease him, giving his ear a playful tug

: What's one thing you love about your significant other?

Jaehyun answers first with no hesitation, "I love how she lets me be me. I feel the most complete with her. We broke up before so we can both learn and grow more, and we did. But me with her is the best version of me I can be"

You listen to his words, feeling all the emotions. Smiling at your boy before turning back to the camera

"I love his jokes" you hear him laugh from beside you

"Not everyone will get it. You can tell the exact moment he makes a joke in his head before he says it out loud, half of the time it's not even that funny but to me it always is. I just love his humor, I guess"

"I think you just love me a lot" he tells you, you roll your eyes at him

: Who said I love you first?

"He did, but technically I did. He said I said it in my sleep but he never told me about it until after a few years. But he's the one who said with both of us conscious" you chuckle

"She was so tired that day, we went back to my place and was just cuddling on my bed. I asked her if she was tired and wanted to sleep, she tucked herself on my side telling me to wake her up in an hour then she suddenly mumbled I love you. I thought I was hallucinating but I couldn't stop smiling after that. I said I love you to her not long after that, on the same bed while we were cuddling"

"Just cuddling" you clarified, earning a laugh from the staff

: Where do you see yourself in 5 or 10 years?

"Honestly, settled down with a family of my own"

"Of our own, baby" Jaehyun interrupts you, fighting the smile off of your face

"Settled down with a family of our own. I want to have kids, I love babies so it's definitely something I look forward to in the future"

Jaehyun listens to you, in his head he's already naming your two kids. He can't stop the smile on his face

"How about you, love?" you ask him, breaking him out if his thoughts

"Married to you, with two kids. I'm actually thinking of their names right now"

"Shut up" you laugh out loud, hitting him playfully on the arm

: What would you say is the secret to a long lasting relationship like yours?

"The truth is, it's not always smooth sailing. You will have fights, disagreements and arguments somewhere along the way and that's okay. That means the two of you are learning, growing up together. What's important is learning how to resolve it together, listen to each other and understand each other's side" you answer

Jaehyun nods in agreement.

"Be your partner's friend. It's important to tell them when something's not right, when something upsets you, when something bothers you. You don't always have to coddle them, appease them. Be each other's voice of reason. Of course always love and respect each othe" he says

: Okay, that's all. Thank you so much for sharing your time and your story with us, Mr. and Ms. Jeong. Anything else you want to say?

You shake your head, "Thank you everyone for your hardwork, thanks for having us" you say, then you look over at your boyfriend.

It was quick but you caught the cheeky smile on his face, and it meant one thing.

"Oh gosh he's about say something either really cheesy or really corny, just wait" you tell the staff and the camera

"Thanks everyone for having us, next time when we come back we'll be Mr. and Mrs. Jeong" he says with a big smile

"Okay see, I knew he was going to say something. That's it, valentine boy we're done here. Thank you!"

AND CUT

#tags #story #fic #nct #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct fluff #nct boyfriend #nct au #jaehyun #jaehyun imagine #jaehyun au #jaehyung fluff #jaehyun oneshot #jaehyun scenario

[praisethesuuun]

Hiiiiiiiii Could I request for a Buddha NSFW alphabet? please? qwp"

the time...has come. I apologize for any kind of mistake or if it's not the best, I tried my best!

Buddha: NSFW Alphabet

A: aftercare <what they're like after sex>

I'm pretty sure this concept isn't too developed in Buddha's mind, I don't think he's the best person for aftercare, but he has his tricks to make you fall at his feet. I can see him offering you some sweets or your favorite snacks stored in the drawer next to your bed. I think Buddha deserved some cuddles, he tried so hard not to eat them!

B: body part <their favourite body part on them and you>

His favorite part of his own body is probably his eyes: Buddha likes the way they allow them to read you like an open book, or your dazed gaze every time you enchant yourself in front of his irises. His ego skyrockets every time it happens and he will never stop teasing you about it. As for which part of your body Buddha prefers, I don't think there is one in particular; he doesn't seem like someone who places too much emphasis on physical appearance. If he loves you, Buddha will love everything about you, without preferences.

C: cum <anything to do with it, really>

I'm pretty sure Buddha lives for cumming in your mouth. He would squeeze your cheeks or pull your hair, seeing how you swallow everything; a grin on his face when you struggle. "Was it sweet, honey? No, no, bad girl...don't talk with your mouth full~"

D: dirty secret <a dirty secret of theirs>

Buddha always had a fantasy involving candy in bed. Let me explain, he would masturbate you with a lollipop, making you lick it and asking you which is tastier, the sweet or you. Buddha would make you cum repeatedly with his tongue, licking you good in all the right spots, feeling the sweet taste of his two favorite snacks, giggling from time to time. You'll need a shower after...you'll be a little sticky-

E: experience <how experienced are they>

Well, Buddha had a wife and children before he set out on his path to enlightenment; so I'd say he has enough experience.

F: favourite position <self-explanatory>

I think the lotus position is the most suitable, because he can hold you close to him, neither of you is in control, you are moving at the same time. It's the right definition of equality and balance, just the way he likes it. Not surprisingly, another position Buddha is crazy about is 69; bring you pleasure with his hot tongue, while he thrusts ruthlessy in your mouth...it's just perfect for him!

G: goofy <would they use humor in the moment?>

It is Buddha we are talking about, it is obvious that he will crack a few jokes here and there. He's not serious AT ALL.

H: hair <how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the courtains?>

The carpet is slightly darker than the curtains. Also, Buddha is not really clean, travels all the time and lives on poverty and good principles. You certainly can't expect too much. I'm not saying he totally stinks, but remind him to wash up once in a while, okay?

I: intimacy <are they romantic in the moment or they do not care?>

Given his character, Buddha is not inclined to bond with anyone, but only with people who manage to catch his attention; as a result, he'll try to make every moment he spends with you special - in his own way. Your sessions are not necessarily long, but very passionate and romantic, full of love and sweet words.

J: jack off <...self-explanatory part 2>

To no one's surprise, he does, but only when he hasn't seen you in a long time. Otherwise, you can rest assured that he will come looking for you at the exact moment he feels aroused.

K: kinks <their kinks>

If there's one important thing for Buddha, it's feeling every part of you, he has to live you deeply. When you make love, Buddha kisses every part of your body and enjoys when you masturbate each other; plus, he has a thing for involving food. Once, he could easily blindfold you, and then cover you entirely with honey, licking and kissing you, mixing the sweetness of that sticky gold with the taste of your fluids.

L: location <where they usually do the do>

Buddha is a person who wants to bring out the best in you, trying to grow the couple, so his favorite time to do it is at night, in the moonlight. When the soft moonlight illuminates your red cheeks and bright eyes, while is hair falls softly on his shoulders, creating a sort of barrier around you two. Also, this boy has a penchant for fucking near water sources, like rivers, lakes, or natural waterfalls.

M: motivation <what turns them on>

How can Buddha resist your tongue and lips sensually enveloping a lollipop? Especially if it's HIS lollipop, which you literally ripped out of his mouth. If anyone else did it, that person would be dead by now, but since it's you...he'll give you another kind of punishment...

N: no <things they refuse to do>

Involving other people in your sex life, he does not feel like it. As I said before, Buddha has to live you and no one else, your relationship is like a small nucleus that no one has the right to intrude; whether it's from a sexual or amorous point of view.

O: oral <do they like giving or receiving?>

He probably has no preferences, however, if someone were to present the choice in front of him, he would prefer to receive. Buddha must see you struggling as he grips your hair, abusing your mouth as he pleases. Buddha hears your gags, moans...everything, and it drives him crazy.

P: pace <are they slow and sensual or fast and rough>

It really depends on his mood, but he takes it easy most of the time. Buddha wants slow and romantic sex, full of passion, as if his every breath was the equivalent of a small part of his heart; but if you want it to go faster, you can straddle him and ride him like there's no tomorrow. He'll enjoy the pleasure, sucking your breasts while you ruin him❤️

Q: quickie <would they fuck you for five minutes or wait until you wait home?>

Let's say Buddha prefers to take his time and not act hastily: he wants you both to enjoy the moment, he wants to play it safe and take his time, and, more importantly, he wants to avoid anyone seeing you.

R: risk <...DUH>

To make you happy, but just to listen to you for once, Buddha would be inclined to take risks. But you absolutely choose a safe word and, at the first wrong thing, you stop immediately and cuddle.

S: stamina <how long can they last?>

His rounds are quite long and passionate, so Buddha can go on for a good few hours. I'll say at least 4 or 5 hours.

T: toys <do they own any? do they use them?>

I don't think Buddha has too many toys - also because he doesn't have enough money to buy them - so, I'm sorry but that's a no. However, you could easily involve simple things, like, bandages or bandanas to tie you up.

U: unfair <how much they like to tease>

All right, I say it, Buddha likes it a lot; however, it only does so because it can prepare you better that way. With his teasing, he always makes you nice and wet, ready to welcoming him and his cock.

V: volume <are they asking for a noise complaint, or are they quiet?>

Does he look like he's quite? This one a screamer, not gonna lie! Everyone knows when you are making love, and whoever hears you starts betting on who will moan the most, if you or Buddha. He can't help himself and sees no reason to not moan out of pleasure if he feels good.

W: wild card <a random headcanon☆>

Let's talk about that time you got stucked to the covers. After everything I've told you, you couldn't not expect such an episode. It was among the first times that Buddha had insisted on trying to involve food during one of your sessions, in particular, a mix between honey and caramel was created. You got attached to the bedsheets. Buddha laughed. That mix was never used again.

X: x-ray <what to they look like under there?>

Well, the size is average, it's neither too big nor too small, and it's perfectly straight. The base is slightly wider. The tip color is #e8a497. Oh, and it's a bit hairy!

Y: yearning <are they in the mood to fuck or are they tame?>

Buddha is very lazy, you have to stimulate him, always looking for interesting ways to make him lose his mind. You could play brat, that might get his attention...why don't you steal his snacks? That's a good idea!

Z: zzz <how quickly they fall asleep afterwards>

Pretty fast asleep, but he doesn't fall asleep until he's sure you're safe. So expect to find yourself sleeping on his chest where he can feel you close.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror x you #request #snv x reader #snv x you #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie #buddha x you #snv buddha #ror buddha #buddha x reader #record of ragnarok buddha

[noahsbsf]

Ok, so I’m going to finally post this but here’s alenoah the COMPLETE essay: I’m just gonna be talking abt why these two should’ve been canon and showing you my evidence lol. (This is gonna be long so if you’re willing to read this ily)

First of All:

The aleheather plot did not make sense. This is a good ship, I’m not saying it’s bad. But, the volcano scene kinda made it weird. Imagine your confessing to the “love of your life” but then they make you infertile, kick you down a volcano, and are the reason you’re in a robot suit/ traumatized. (Oh but Heather did what she had to do!) LOOK, I’m not saying she didn’t serve in that scene, I’m saying that the fact he was able to brush it off like it was nothing? It just isn’t realistic. Even if he is MADLY in love with her. But then they sacrifice Noah and don’t do anything with him and his unfinished rivalry with Alejandro??

Also I just want to mention the fact that these two would NOT work out after total drama. According to Marco Grazzini (Alejandro’s voice actor, TDWT):

Which I do agree with 😭 I do think that a relationship with 1 narcissist can work (let’s face it, one person in a relationship is more narcissistic than the other. Or not idk.) But if two people are the narcissists in the relationship, it can eventually lead to a break up. Now, you might be wondering why I’m talking about aleheather (understandable). I just wanted to make it clear that I don’t want the aleheather shippers attacking me and how they just don’t really make sense to me as well. And also I don’t want people saying “BUT ALEHEATHER IS SUP-“ stop. (But wait! Shouldn’t you talk about Nemma then?) I’ll get there dw.

Second of All:

Alejandro and Noah had SO MANY weird interactions. No joke. I know a lot of people like to say they didn’t, but trust me, they did. And here’s some proof:

THIS IS NOT A NORMAL LOOK PEOPLE. Honestly, that look on Noah’s face kind of reminds me of som..oh right that’s the exact way he looks at Emma (AKA HIS CANON GIRLFRIEND) this entire interaction was out of nowhere. (Oh but what about the fact that this scene is probably showing how shady Alejandro is) well, every single time a scene like this happens with any other character, we usually get a confessional of Alejandro trash talking them. But did we get that confessional for this scene? In fact, did Alejandro ever directly talk about Noah? NO. NOT EVEN ONCE. Even during London, Alejandro never said one single thing bad about him.

OK SHORT ONE:

The fact that Alejandro mocked Lindsay with NOAH. Alejandro throughout this show has had a fake persona, but then this little comment kind of proved that Alejandro can be himself around Noah. They’re kind of like the same person after all. (I mean that in a “judgy” sense.)

I also want to point out that every challenge (except for London) and every occasion, these two are always next to each other. ALWAYS. They’re always close, they’re always giving each other looks, and tbh it makes so much sense. These two are really the only “sane” ones on team Chris. (Sami, are you SURE they’re always giving each other weird looks?Like-) Child here’s the lil collection:

London 🇬🇧 ☕️:

London was probably the most scripted episode EVER. The entire plot for Alejandro and Noah was so bad, it came out of nowhere. (But Sami, Noah didn’t trust Alejandro in ep 7! Don’t you remember?) ofc I remember Susie. It’s just, after ep 7, nothing was done. Like Noah hates Alejandro. That’s it. Then he bad mouths him in ep 13, Noah’s voted out. A lot more could’ve been done but the writers kill off Noah so more drama can start. After all, Noah’s just a side character, right?

THIS. LOOK.

This exact look is hurt. Pain. And any other dramatic thing I can think of. This entire scene just shows how much he trusted him. It’s like, when someone you truly care about, who you trust, backstabs you. They TRULY had something. (But Sami-) Before you even say “he was probably acting” lemme just show you something:

Right when Noah was abt to jump out the plane, he had a shocked look on his face, then realizes the cameras are on him, and quickly changes into a smirk. HE. WAS. NOT. ACTING. He was HURT. And the wasted potential for the rivalry they could’ve had also hurts. But of course, since this was 2010, there wasn’t any lgbtq couples allowed on CN at all ☹️.

FINALLY:

As much as I do love this ship I think that these two will never see the light of day. (Scratch that, they’re def never seeing the light of day.) These two are both in canon relationships, one of which I actually love! #multishipper. Nemma honestly doesn’t have any flaws and there’s really no reason to destroy a pretty sweet relationship. However, during TDWT I’d like to argue the fact that if CN wasn’t homophobic at the time and neither was fresh tv, then these two would’ve definitely been something. It was like fresh tv was trying to give us clues lol. And if the TD writers would’ve let Alejandro and Noah have a rivalry, then there would’ve been a lot more evidence of why these two should be canon.

Welp, there you go. There’s my entire essay. If you disagree with something or have anything to add you can comment down below! But keep in mind this took 2.5 hours soo…

#total drama #fypシ゚viral #td alejandro #idk how to tag this #alenoah #td noah #personal essay #im not okay #tdwt #please help #lol #love these two #make them canon #fypppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp #tumblr fyp #fypage #this took way too long

[aspensews]

I just wanted to talk somewhere about how much the relationships in Trigun and specifically Vashwood mean to me as an aromantic person.

I want to start out by saying that I have seen that for some aromantic people the term « queer platonic relationship » still doesn’t perfectly define what our close relationships are like, and I also feel this way, but I will be using that term in this for now since it’s the closest we have for the moment.

I say this because to me the relationship between Vash, Wolfwood, Meryl and Millie feels like what I would want in a qpr. They all obviously love and care about each other deeply in a way that can be interpreted as more than friends but isn’t exactly romantic either. And I love that Nightow never explicitly confirms any of the possible romantic relationships in the story to be such, because that means it is totally possible that these characters love each other this deeply without any romantic attraction.

Vashwood specifically is so incredibly important to me in this way. I was discovering I was aromantic at the exact same time as I was reading Trigun Maximum, and Vash and Wolfwood’s relationship honestly helped me realize I was aro because I realized it was possible to love in the same way as these two do without it being romantic. Nightow wrote them in such a way that the reader can choose to interpret whether they are platonic or romantic but that either way they love each other deeply, to the point that I have seen many describe them as soulmates. I personally describe their relationship as something deeper than friends but not necessarily romantic.

Reading about their relationship reminded me of exactly how I experience love for the people in my life and helped me a lot in not feeling sad when I finally realized I don’t experience romantic attraction. Because I already experience a lot of love that falls into this category and I don’t need romance to be happy.

On the more headcanon side, since the relationship is open to interpretation, I have kind of taken to imagining Vashwood/just the whole team as my ideal qpr where they are all platonic but sometimes have sex about it. I don’t often feel like the shipping communities in fandom are friendly enough for me to talk about a headcanon like this, but with Trigun I have found so many of the shippers to be so friendly and accepting of specifically the multishipping and the trans headcanons for the characters that I hope that maybe my qpr headcanon would be accepted as well.

So if you’ve made it to the end of this post, thanks for reading and if you’re queer haven’t watched and read Trigun I highly suggest it. It has such amazing writing, themes and a canon trans woman! (Elendira ❤️)

#this has just been on my mind for a while #trigun stampede #trigun #trigun maximum #vash the stampede #vashwood #alloaro #aromantic but not asexual #aromantic #polygun #nicholas d wolfwood #meryl stryfe #millie thompson #aspec

[chirpsythismorning]

Something we should definitely not overlook, because it feels relevant to birthdaygate, is the individual character posters for season 4.

There's actually even an interview with the Duffer Brothers, where they were asked about this theory:

Though, I should clarify, this interviewer got a few details wrong, as it appears Max was actually looking away from the camera, not directly at it. Not only that, but she also wasn’t the only one to do so. She was one out of four total...

Looking directly at the camera: El, Hopper, Murray, Will, Argyle, Steve, Dustin, Robin, (not shown above: Karen, Lucas, Erica, Nancy, Eddie)

Looking away from the camera, to their left: Joyce, Mike, Jonathon, Max

We could deduce that this visual choice was foreshadowing Max getting cursed by Vecna in season 4, and Matt did sort of elude to this in his response to the question, seeing as it was focused only on her. But what could this possibly mean for the other three then?

Initially, it didn’t seem like we got anything substantial enough in s4 that could have possibly paralleled Joyce, Mike and Jonathon to Max's situation, or even being cursed by Vecna like she did for that matter. Well, except—

I do find it interesting that the same episode we see Max slowly discover she has been cursed, in an episode literally titled 'Vecna's Curse', it's March 22nd, Will's birthday, and in real time we are seeing the three people who would definitely never forget Will's birthday, presumably forget.

Because undeniably, the first thing that crosses my mind when it comes to what could possibly connect these three characters with each other, is Will. He's what connects them all. But even more specifically, THIS scene below is what connects them all, a scene which, might I remind you, has a major emphasis on the word 'remember':

Joyce: Do you know what March 22nd is? It’s your birthday. YOUR birthday. When you turned 8, I gave you that huge box of crayons, do you remember that?

Jonathon: Do you remember the day dad left?

Mike: Do you remember the first day that we met?

Vecna:

Not only do I think this means that Vecna most likely took away these three's memory of Will’s birthday, I also think it means he took away this specific memory and all the memories mentioned within it.

If it's all coming full circle and everything leads back to Will, it would make sense that Vecna 'took notes' during this whole incident in 2x08. These memories and these specific people in Will's life played a role in thwarting Vecna's plans last time, so obviously, he's not going to give them the chance to do that again.

This also brings up some interesting questions:

Were those weird POV shots of the Cali gang, that looked oddly stalker-ish, meant to represent Vecna keeping a close eye on them, to make sure his plan was still in motion?

How long will this manipulation (curse) Vecna has on these three last? And to what extent? Will it all just come to a head right away in early season 5, at a moment when they're trying to save Will, but they inevitably fail because all of the relevant things that saved him last time, are now missing from their memories?

And last, but definitely not least, is it possible Mike wouldn’t have gone through with professing his love to El, the way that he did, even going as far as to say his life started the day he found her in the woods (the day Will went missing), if he had remembered already doing the exact same thing with Will…? If he had remembered the best thing he'd ever done was ask Will to be his friend? Because if this theory is correct y’all... MIKE DOESN'T REMEMBER!!!???

Well, that's all (for now)

Please be sure to check out this post if you haven't already, but even more importantly, scroll down to the bottom of that post, because there I have linked all the most incriminating evidence thus far.

And trust me, once you read all of it, it's pretty much undeniable.

I also hope this gives some validation to those of you out there who denied vehemently that Joyce, Mike or Jonathon could EVER possibly forget Will's birthday. Because you were right. Technically, they didn't. Technically it required an inter-dimensional monster for this to be possible at all. So props to ya'll and your faith in these characters! YOU WERE RIGHT!

#stranger things #will byers #stranger things meta #stranger things theory #birthdaygate #stranger things 5 #st5 headcanon #also hate to be the bitch to bring this up... #but you know how we always joked about how jonathon would be the only one to save will bc he knows his favorite song... #well.. in that scene in the shed back in s2... jonathon mentions that memory... #which means he doesn't remember #WHICH MEANS WILL IS FUCKED BASICALLY #yeah it might be good to go back and see everything they mentioned #because it's basically a free for all in terms of vecna swiping those memories right out of their brains #will byers im praying for you #that whole thing about s5 going back to s1 vibes has me scared... #but also there's a lot of foreshadowing that mike is in danger.? #so im not totally convinced he doesn't somehow mess up vecna's plan yet again... #maybe that's how him and will both end up stuck in the upside down together... #yes I will turn this around so it benefits me #what about it?

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part ii

tags: same as before except more unhinged, (slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT), idiots in love, friends with benefits though it is more than that, oral sex (fem and male receiving), fingering, piv sex, overstimulation, thigh riding, dom!obi?, ANGST AT SOME POINT(S), tension so high that they should be on medication, me shortening every uncle-in-law phrase to uncle bcs english sucks in family terms, overuse of commas because editing 42 pages is hard

a/n: HELLO AGAIN, thank you all so much for all the love you've shown, i couldn't be more grateful. sorry for the *long* wait, i just thought the story needed a little longer than a week to do its trick, and frankly i am a busy person so 7 day gap wouldn't work for me. but i hope you can forgive me with this beast of a chapter, it is my first time writing such a long one. hope you enjoy it, and see you all again soon!

also not so fun fact: i totally misunderstood the "season", thinking it should be around summer- early autumn but it was the other way around, sorry, all the historical babes (i can no longer call myself that) for the frustration. but this timetable suits this story much better, does it not?

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three

enjoy!!!

word count: 19.7K

chapter two: it's a bad idea, right?

The morning or to be exact, the noon, is when you finally feel refreshed, ready for the challenges of the day. Lucky, because your relatives are more than understanding, has always been. They would scold you for going about your day as a ghost rather than miss breakfast or join only halfway to their other activities. You always try to honor their kindness, not to take advantage of the privileges as a guest, and do your best to spend time with your cousin Carolina, (The young girl has all the benefits of her young age, full of energy and excitement, fascinated by the stories she hears (from you, mostly)), and also avoid bringing a man into your room under their roof and absolutely ravaging each other-

The last one is an exception, which you are not proud of, yet not a single drop of guilt muddies your soul. None, considering the enjoyment or strengthened bonds.

Speaking of it, something tells you that you'd have been late anyways if you woke up early, thanks to him. There's indeed a mark on the side of your neck, just where it meets your shoulder. Also, your thighs share the same fate, though lightly, a few small bruises and red, irritated areas thanks to his neat beard. Thankfully, they're quite hidden except the one that's not that has you cursing at him. For how good it felt, and for his daredevil nature. 

You're scared to admit your fear for your future with him, not in the romantic expectations aspect, you would never, but for the simpler stuff like how are you going to look at his face and not be reminded of its presence between your legs. Or the unending tease he’ll become, even more so than usual, rightfully so. Make no mistake, you had pretty high expectations, and an overall picture of your relationships past it. Yet, last night was its own entity, reducing you to a mess in the most beautiful way, plucking every thought from your mind, yet dropping seeds of doubt like this.

Still, there’s a foolish smile on your face, and some soreness in between your legs, a welcomed ache.

Nonetheless, you’re not sure how to react when you descend the stairs, and he’s there, sharing tea with your aunt and uncle.

Obi Wan stands up in a blink, even before your aunt has the chance to react to your entry.

“Oh, here you are, sweetie! Just in time to join us in the gardens, and look, who’s here!”

“Hello, auntie. Uncle.” For what’s worth, you like being here, with them, and nothing changes that. You can feel the adamantine warm cloud of love in your chest. The reason you never doubted coming here.

“Lord Kenobi.” You greet him as well, though not with that big smile and sincerity you’ve just shown.

“My Lady.” His indifferent tone is interesting. Indifferent, yet indifferent as any other time, respectful and overly sympathetic. Maybe the situation isn’t as bad as you think? Yet, he’s here, isn’t he? His very presence is questionable enough.

“How good of the young man to join us, don’t you think? Though I fear it’s only due to work issues, and not out of courtesy.”

Yes, how good! And definitely not out of courtesy.

“You hurt me, Madam.” He objects, frowning his brows. “I must say this house, with its amiable hosts, has always had a great place in my heart. Last night once again proved it right, it was the best ball I’ve ever been to all summer. In fact, I was thinking of learning your contacts for the band and the cook, you inspired me to throw my own.”

You really, really try to not roll your eyes, and drop the tea that’s being offered to you now.

“Oh, no problem at all! I’ll write them down when we finish the paperwork in my study.” Your uncle says, and the absolute charmed look and excitation in his eyes have your stomach sinking. “And how are you, my dear? Haven’t you shaken out the morning chill yet?” He points to your shawl, wrapped tightly around your neck. You powdered the marks, and put on a big necklace, but then decided you couldn’t be too careful, and put on the fabric too.

“Yes, I think the weather change wasn’t quite easy on me this time.” You reach for the honey, making a show of it so they don’t put you in the center of attention.

“Did you sleep well last night?”So, it doesn’t work. And that’s about the one question you hoped to avoid.

“Despite the exertion taking place-“ Kenobi’s eyes widen, exaggerated by the teacup basically covering other parts of his face, and for a second you think he may choke on his tea. “downstairs, I say it was the best sleep I could’ve ever had.”

You hope your acting inspires the same in him too. He suppresses that little cough well, and the blush settling in his cheeks is faint, easily blamed on the warmth of the drink.

Strike one.

Irritation grows in you, rather than anxiety. Does he really think you’re that crude? That dumb? You make a point of not looking his way after that, an attitude clearly noticed by him in no time. It’s not like he has any chance of talking about it, but the alarm bell in his head rings continuously, busying his mind ‘til the opportune moment comes to talk about it.

Then, a gleeful screech of your name fills the room. In a blink, your cousin is right next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulder that you can’t properly stand up and hug her back in a normal way.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up all day long!” She says, hands reaching to hold yours, almost causing you to lose control of the fabric covering your neck. “We’ve got so much to do! And you were going to tell me all about Naboo! Did you really get to see the lions?”

“Sweetie-“ Despite the wildness of the affection you are given, there’s a huge smile on your face, and you almost make her sit on your lap- an old habit from her younger years.

“Come now- you promised to go riding with me. I want to show you how much I improved.”

“Well-“ your poor, poor legs are in no condition for that kind of activity. “I think it’s best if we do that tomorrow. You see, I had enough of it yesterday, I’ve been in a carriage all day.”

His smirking, twinkling eyes.

Strike two.

Your furious gaze kills that gleam quickly though. The faint smirk disappears, and he straightens his back, clearing his throat.

“Carolina, can’t you see we have a guest? Where are your manners? And give your poor cousin some space, for God’s sake!” Your aunt exaggerates like any mother of her generation, that high pitched voice screeching every ear in the room.

You should be glad to see the subject changed, but the condition of it is bitter. She bows her head down, taking a few steps away from you, but you hold onto her hand, keeping her near.

“Hello, young lady. I am Obi Wan Kenobi.” He sounds- sympathetic, though not overly. It is this sweet balance between respecting their being without the prejudices of age, but compassionate enough not to crush them under expectations they are yet to achieve. Interpreting this from just a couple of words seems a bit of a stretch, you know, still, his whole attitude screams he’s got some experience talking to kids, or considerable knowledge about the human psyche.

“He’s a friend of mine.” You explain further, trying to ease her.

“Welcome, Lord Kenobi.” She curtsies, yeah, she’s perfected that, you observe with proud eyes.

“I didn’t see you at the ball last night, I’m afraid.” Like he was there longer than an hour.

“It was past my bedtime.” The look she gives her parents tells him all he needs to know about her character, or precisely who influences her. He wonders if it was any similar to yours.  “I hope you had a wonderful time. You must’ve, because she’s an excellent dancer.” She turns at you, smiling so innocently that you can’t blame her for complicating things. “She taught me all about it, even better than my tutors.”

“Oh, no, we didn’t-“ The sentence synchronically rolls from both of your tongues, but you stop as you realize. There’s an abrupt silence in the room for a few seconds, causing anger to bubble up in you once more, and forcing you to make up an excuse to break free from this atmosphere.

“Hey,” You tug on her arm, “I’ve brought candy.” And just like that, she’s jumping all over you, bouncing with joy, “Sshh,” You warn. “First we need to go somewhere unseen.”

===

You see him again, days after, when he’s clearly learned his lesson, and gave you a window to breathe, calm your fury. The worst thing? It works. You can imagine (or in other words daydream) the next time you two see each other, which you desperately wish for it to be soon, and picture keeping yourself from stepping onto his feet, or shoving your finger into his chest. It all could not be forgotten but worked out through little warnings and explanations. Communication, basically.

And it turns out, you don't have to imagine any longer, and have the perfect opportunity to test your temper.

In a cafe. Where you sit alone. Blissfully ignorant of the couples (or to-be-couples) surrounding you. But most importantly, unchaperoned. (You had your tongue to defy any unwanted presence, and it's not like people came here alone like yourself. They came here for dates. And if anything, your presence was a litmus paper. What was to happen in marriage, if one couldn’t even keep their eyes from others in those little flirtatious rendezvous?)

(Though you knew some didn’t see it that way. A temptress, their choice of word to describe you.)

Obi Wan walks up to your table in quick, big steps that somehow don’t capture the attention of anyone but you. A further proof of that magic dust he sprinkles.  He’s dressed in browns today. It is a welcomed change. The smile on his face is unbeatably prominent, even as he follows the guide of manners, bowing his head and removing his hat before he sits in front of you. There’s no indication of his previous whereabouts in his looks and you wonder how he found you. Was he simply passing by the establishment before noticing your presence, or did he inquire about your engagements today, asking around?

"You shouldn't be here." It’s that sweet tone of yours, an alarm said in the softest of inclinations. “I have no company.” While it is redundant to both of your mindsets, the need of a chaperone for every conversation you have with strangers, you like to be cautious.

Then let me be it, he would’ve said, if it wasn’t literally the first time after your distasteful encounter. He’s not going to throw away that lesson for a shot of comedy. Or the fact that it’s hardly a request, but again- It’s not worth it. “I just wanted to say how sorry I was for the last time. It was- unadvisable to say the least.”

That- feels so good to hear, somehow. Far better than expected. You lean back in your chair, a sly smile on your face that you can’t help, and a subtle blush, a total contrast to your attitude.

“What can I say though? I don’t know if it’s still possible to be unsatisfied, but I sure felt like that if I didn’t see you again.”

Your fingers grasp the fork far too tightly, considering you have no appetite left for the desert in front of you. It’s the flashbacks from that night, and the undeniable effects it had on both of you.  

“Well, apology accepted.” 

He releases a breath after your words, visibly relaxed, amusing you further. You focus your gaze on the plate, in hopes of blending this conversation into the atmosphere around. 

You add. “Then again, don’t take my forgiveness for granted. None of my partners were this careless, and I seriously expected better from you.” 

(You're quite aware this is not the sort of conversation fit here.)

The interruption of “Oh, that will never even cross my mind.”, turns into “Partners?”, thankfully in a whisper, but sharp enough that it holds the same value as a shriek. He plays it off like it’s a frivolous question, a part of your ongoing banter, a mere thread to spin the conversation.

As if you gave the perfect impression of a blushing virgin that night. You flutter your lashes, as you take a bite. The silence is absolutely deafening, before you can continue. “There’s a reason I like traveling that much. Naboo. Correlia. Alderaan. God, even Hoth.” The discomfort in his face grows, and you fight it with an explanation, hoping that’s the reason. “Never at the same time, though, if it wasn’t obvious. It was just about having good company if I was to spend months in a city.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He shakes his head, an act of his nonjudgemental nature. “So, am I the Coruscant part of your little play?”

“No. You're the exception.” You laugh. “I haven’t- not here. I wouldn’t dare. Too little privacy. No trust. Above all, not a single soul that felt like a match of my own. Til I met you.” He deserves to hear that, right? “However I must say, the rules would be a little different here. Requires more caution. Fine work. For example, you couldn’t come and see me like this whenever you desire."

"Fair enough." He agrees, though makes little effort to follow the lesson. Actually, not even little, none. He just sits there, moulding into his chair further, a pleasant grin as he takes the world in, entertaining himself with the surrounding people. And you, of course. His piercing gaze travels back to you, every time.

Well, right. Not like you wanted him off of your table. "What do you want, Lord Kenobi?" And how did you know I would be here anyway? 

"Are you coming to the picnic on Saturday, in the Perlemian Park?"

You were certainly thinking about it. "Possibly."

"I'm only going if you are joining too." He wets his lips, an action you don't miss, and you continue to watch it long after he's done and see the next words coming out, before your brain can comprehend their meaning. "So, I'll need a better answer." 

The same lips that mapped out your entire body, whispered all those dirty things, tasted your hidden corners, drinking in the pleasure it provided…

He clears his throat, and you break out of the trance. He looks at you with a brow lifted, but the twinkles behind his blue eyes tell you it's not out of boredom. More like the exact opposite. 

"I'll be there." 

This is his cue to leave, with excitement for the said event, and a tinge of sadness for this interaction ending. You mirror his manners as he bids you a good day. 

Then, you're left alone, exactly as merely half an hour ago. Yet, the dessert in front of you is unsavory, nowhere near enough to satisfy your sweet tooth.  

It is still completely the same.

=== 

Comes Saturday, and does it come slower than possible… The weather seems like it's making one last show before the summer ends and scorches the earth, leaving everyone a sweating mess, little to no words coming out of their mouth, sprawled on the nearest surface. You seriously debate whether calling the offer off, the choice of fanning yourself to a lazy nap sounding better and better. It is in these extensive relaxations that you uncover the horrid truth- your fingers fell short in bringing you pleasure now, making you an even more sweaty, frustrated mess rather than the relaxed, drowsy mess you want to be. It is an awful revelation, bringing along many questions that haunt your every waking hour. You fear it's got something to do with him- and the best prescription for you is to stay away.

Alas, you keep true to your promise and show up. 

Thankfully the air has calmed down on said day, and sorbets are refreshing, making it more than a bearable experience. Bearable is actually an insult in this case, for it is more than that. These people are some of your oldest friends, close to your age, and share your opinions. It is hard not having fun when you are allowed to be free (just a little more than normal, though it is enough). None cares about the obscene gossip, or juices of fruit staining faces, dripping onto the expensive fabrics you all are adorned in. Laughs are loud and constant, never letting three minutes go without them. Hands are all flying around, hitting each other as a joke, reaching for the last piece of cake, taking the very dangerous road back without spilling a drop of the drink (which is, once again, a target of pranks).

Obi Wan enjoys it as much as you do, despite the fact that he doesn’t know them like you do. His life doesn’t allow much leisure time, and his choice of friends is mostly unfitting to these kinds of events, but he doesn’t have a problem finding joy in these kinds of events. Maybe it is mostly due to you, watching you in your nature, admiring the way you handle yourself among the crossfire of jokes, or what foods you prefer the most, making silly expressions as the taste of them hits just right. With every little thing he learns about you, he’s drawn closer to you. Once, he would name you a mystery, yet that would indicate the thrill was all in revelation. Now, it is the exact opposite. He gets more excited with each new question, like what is the actual story behind the “donkey joke” you are hinting at, or why do you pick some of the seemingly perfectly looking strawberries aside and pick others- or why you blush when you catch him looking at you, only to do the same yourself?

It is only in the afternoon that the buzz leaves its place for something serene. Conversations diminish, replies take longer, bodies sag and lean on the nearest surface, be the tree trunks or picnic baskets or their loved ones.

C’mon then, let’s take a walk. One proposes, and others follow, albeit slowly and with protests. You are among the latter, every cell in your body refusing to produce or use energy.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you end up at the very back of the group with Lord Kenobi, and while you manage to stick with him unlike your friends, the distance between you and them grows and now, you can safely say that you’ve lost the sight of them. Twenty minutes ago.

So yes, you’ve been walking alongside him in silence. Far away that you don’t brush hands, yet so close that it would raise questions if someone were to see.

“I don’t think this is doing much for my somnolence.” He basically yawns.

"Should I take that as an insult, my Lord?" 

"Why would you- what did I say to make you think so?" He shakes his head, as stubborn as he's apologetic, ready to accept the accusation if your reasons are firm. Still, his heart is already pacing up, distressed. That must be the wine taking over.

"Well, am I not the only reason for your presence? And I must be boring you, if you are still feeling drowsy." 

"No- Absolutely untrue- “ He stutters, a panic to find the right words, not to be buried under your claims, he is not going to lose his chance to be by your side- only to realize the grin on your face too late.

"You little minx." He breathes out, and is rewarded by the sound of your tempting giggle. 

"Seems like I successfully rid you of your problem." You take pride. "And now, I suggest walking by the lake, to ensure its permeance."

"You mean to dip my feet in the water?" Again, he shakes his head, already rejecting the proposition.

"If you don't do it I shall." You skip, prancing like a nymph before he grabs you by the arm. 

“I don’t think that is safe.”

“It perfectly is.” You state, bewildered by his anxious urge. One look into his hand, and he remembers to let you go. The said hand flies to his hair, with an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, but – let me be by your side. And make it quick.”

The fact that he thinks you need his approval is downright funny, though you’d take issue with it any other time. Now, you are amused by his good intended worries and don’t have it in your conscience to break his heart over it, or bring up a quarrel.

So, you start undressing. Only your socks and shoes.

Still, the blush settles on his cheeks, and the light behind his eyes burns brighter as he sees the skin just above your knees naked. Not for the first time- still, he feels like turning his back on you, but does no such thing. And that is not because it defeats the purpose of his presence.

God, how could you even make you believe he wasn’t planning on having these impure thoughts?

You feel your temperature rising, and it has nothing to do with the sun. You meet his hypnotized eyes, and can still feel it focused on you. After days of dissatisfaction, its effect is multiplied by ten, making your heart race. You pray none of it is visible on your face. the last thing you need is for him to know.

He laughs when you lay the white fabric in the old woods of the docks, like the spoiled child you are. It is more than likely to stain, but more importantly, it is definitely old, creacking under every step, hence his aversion to sit beside you with a head shake. You shrug in return, and pull your skirt slightly above your knees, swinging your legs back and forth.

“Oh, this is lovely!” You say, sprawling your toes in the water. “Truly, you are missing out.”

“I believe you, my Lady.” His tone is joyful, just the right combination of trust and mockery.

You turn to look at him, a big mistake. The excess part of your dress brushes the surface, wetting the fabric, though it is the last thing you care. He is looking at you, with that charming grin, and subtle hunger etched into his gaze, screaming worship, in complete awe of the scene he's beholding, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, holding his hand, her dress bunched up like in those ancient paintings of fairies, and endless passion for the leading role of it. It swirls the emotions deep inside your belly, the only reaction you want to avoid. Yet, you’re not immune to it. your heart skips a beat, the tingles overtaking your skin.

“Look- I see fishes!” You whip your head, the one thing you can do in hopes of breaking the tension. You lean forward, trying to get a clear view, or try to do so because you are stopped by his grip.

“That’s enough.” The command sends a shiver down your spine. “You shouldn’t go any further.”

“Fine.” You huff, the simplest protest you can manage. His touch softens as he realizes you’re going to follow his words, though takes long to let go.

A few minutes pass in the silence of nature.

“How long are you going to stand like this?” You ask, exasperated that this isn’t going anything like you imagined.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m also standing, this is hardly fun.”

“That is only the result of your own choice.”

Narrowing your eyes, you huff and climb back on your feet, disregarding the objections of the offended dock. Then, you push past him- 

He suddenly pulls you back, promptly disrupting your balance, a tactic he uses to pick you up into his arms. You scream as your feet meet the air, hands grabbing anything they can reach which ends up being his clothes.

“What are you doing?!” You yell, burying your fingers into him. With how strong your grip is, you can feel every muscle tensing under your touch. 

“I’m not gonna let you walk in that mud, after all.” He explains like it was the problem you were referring to.”

“My shoes! – and-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

He adores the pout you have as he fetches them.

He leans his back on the tree, and you rest your arms on your knees, propped up.

“So, we are to sit here and sulk?”

“If you name it so.” His smile is borderline insulting, ear to ear. With one look, he points at the reason- your wet feet. There’s literally no choice but to wait for them to dry up. But by proposing the only solution, he infuriates you further.

“Very interesting.” You snark. “I would’ve just stood back if I knew this was what we would be doing.”

“And now it is I who might take those words as an insult. Have I somehow proven my companionship to be loathsome in the times we spent together?”

Times you spent together… The flashbacks are, as implied in their name, flash before your eyes at such great speed that by the time you realize it is not something you should ponder upon now, your heart rate is already up, the flame deep in your belly ignited once again, and even the sounds of the past are echoing in your ears. You turn your head away from him, cursing at the color blooming on your cheeks.

Oh, but the action is enough to let him know exactly what you are feeling, a song of “I thought so” on his tongue- yet he doesn’t sing it yet, realizing the underestimation of his own emotions. He brings it upon himself- a glance at you, taking in your red face (as much as possible) and bare legs, let out to the sun to dry up.

“Well, I’ll think that’s the case if you don’t say anything.” He opts to say this instead, loving to taunt you further. 

“It’s not.” You mumble, still turned to the other side, fingernails digging at your palm.

“I can’t hear you, dear.”

“I said-“

The moment you move your head, you are met with his face, so close to yours, a distance he promptly closes by placing a hand at your neck, and tugging at it, ‘til your lips crash. You lose your balance once more, gripping his collars to not fully crush him with your weight. You gasp, the only protest you have in yourself, because for all your resolve to stay away, here you are, falling right into his arms. And it feels so damn good.

You gasp, pushing him. He laughs as his back hits the tree, never once breaking eye contact.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You whisper-scream, suddenly aware of the fact that while you are all alone on this field, your friends are still very much around.

“Oh, what am I doing? It is you, darling, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you were looking at me.”

You direct your gaze to the ground, embarrassment getting the better of you.

“What is it?” He questions your lack of defiance. “You had no problem before. Don’t tell me you’re scared of being seen. They should at least be like, a mile away.”

Yeah. That’s absolutely correct. Besides, you’re shielded from any unwanted visitors by the thick line of trees, and the sheer distance between there and the path. It is a secluded corner of the lakeside.

“Or is there something else that’s bothering you?” This, is said in a more suggestive tone, and its effect is only amplified by the way he holds your chin to refocus your attention. You burn under his grasp and insistent watch.

Say farewell to your pride.

You let yourself fall over him once more, kissing him with a whimper you can’t quite suppress. You feel his smirk at that, but neither of you dwells on it, for he too lets out a sound of desperation, panting as he pulls you close, placing you on his thigh. (You hear your dress positively rubbing against the grass, and dare not to imagine the green blotch that may appear.) You don’t know whether to celebrate your newfound closeness or chastise your weak will, for it creates a new wave of desire in you as you delve your fingers into his beard. Your skin lights up against his coarse hair, so familiar yet so unyielding under your touch, and to be holding his face in your hands like this only blinds you more. So blind that you only realize the movement of your hips, seeking pleasure, when he holds them.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” A kiss right on the left corner of your lips. “Are you haunted by that night so deeply that you are unable to satisfy your needs on your own, like me? Or hell, with another?” Even in the midst of haze, you don’t miss the way his eyes darken at the mention of a third party.

“No- only you.” You whisper, too afraid of things ending.

“Fuck.” He can’t help but burst at your surrender. “That’s my girl. Lift your hips a little for me, darling.”

You oblige without question, raising yourself on your trembling thighs. Holding your breath, imagining all the things he can do to you… He is bewitched by your neediness, the way you moan at the first contact his hand makes with your skin after lifting your skirt just above your knees so you have more freedom to move, and can directly sit on his thigh.  

Speaking of it, why? Your eyebrows scrunch as he pushes you down like that, though the actual questioning part comes a second after your clit rubs against the fabric, not his cock, the first jolt of true ecstasy you experienced in a while, but that can’t be the case for him, right? “What are you-?”

“Trust me.” He takes his sweet time to relish the expense of your neck, so close for his taking, partly to ease your nerves, and frankly it is too much fun for his own good to feel you twitch in anticipation, and your breath getting stolen away at his open-mouthed kisses, panting when he lingers on a spot for too long at the fear of him leaving a bruise. “No marks, I perfectly remember.” He has to confess after a point, and only after that point, you begin to truly relax, and have your heart beating so fast at the same time, noticing your wetness is positively seeping into his clothes.

Your jaw hangs open with a silent pant as he decides it’s enough, and guides your body, rocking onto his. It’s not something you haven’t done before, but there’s something so unique about now, maybe the scandalous location, or your depraved state, or simply everything regarding him, that you are convinced it looks like your first time. Shit, it may even be your first time, considering the previous examples are nowhere close to this, the stakes, the desperation, the payoff… You’re holding onto his shoulders like a fucking virgin, pressed so close to receive every bit of affection he's giving. It’s the damn heat, the greatest excuse on your lips for the last couple of weeks, invalidated by the nonexistence of space between you and him. It only causes sweat to pour out of both of you, like the constant drip out of your cunt, sabotaging all your attempts to gain control, and create the slightest of frustration. 

“Obi Wan.” You chant his name, unable to form any other word, and he drinks it all in, valiantly ignoring the ache in his cock. It is a hard task, a growing challenge as your knee brushes against it from time to time, especially when you try to take initiative and escape the rhythm he’s trying to create.

“Ah-ah-ah- Let me take over. You know we’re short on time, darling.”

Then, he does justice to his words as he bounces his leg, the added pressure claiming a gasp from you.

“Do that again.” What your efforts can't get you, maybe your pleads can. After all, you're just as stubborn as him, giving up easily is not on your book.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”  

You roll your eyes, though it is totally due to annoyance, and let out a moan, throwing your head back. The fresh air does nothing for your lungs anymore, just an outlet for your scandalous noises. Which, he has no complaints too, your erratic breaths warmed his neck enough, and blessed him with those sweet sounds, right under his ear. Oh, but in any other case, this was anywhere else, and he had to silence you, also which he has no complaints too. Perhaps the sole problem is missing the blissed out expressions of your pretty face, and the light in your eyes, burning for him.

“Are you close?” Like he even needs to ask, like he’s not aware of your moans turned whimpers.

“Hmmh.” Is all the answer he gets, and that’s enough for him, laughing quietly, as you feel the vibrations of his chest.

When you cum, it is indeed an earth-shattering moment, and an end to your misery, the first drop of water after thirst- so much so that you don’t care about it happening in such a short time. Your legs squeeze his firm thigh, shaking over them like the rest of you. His one hand travels to your waist, holding you steady and pressed against him. You swear you can feel every aspect of his hand over three layers of fabric, yet he’s not actually exerting that much power, treating you like a delicate flower, afraid to crush the silky petals.

You sigh as the trembles die down, your senses coming back to you one by one- the first and foremost the tension in the body beneath you. Your fingers loosen from his collars, and travel the expanse of his torso slowly, a kiss to his throat in the meantime.

“Don’t you worry about me.” His voice is slightly shaky, though it may very well be due to his exertion.

“I think I should.” Its trueness is further proven when you palm him, and he groans. Though he is insistent.

“Look at you, you sweet thing, concerned with me walking around with a hard-on.”

That has you rolling your eyes, and removing your hand. Removing your entire body, even. You settle on the grass, leaning on your elbows. Your dress is already ruined, so you’re past the point of worrying.

“On the other hand, you may want to think about this.” He points to his wet trousers, the dark stain visible even though the fabric is black.

Uh oh. That is indeed a problem, if you are to return soon. Unfortunately, your brain can’t grasp the danger, coming up with solutions like soaking him entirely in the lake… 

So, it’s no wonder that your next words are a joke.“You marked me, I marked you. We're even.”

To your surprise, it works. His laughter fills the entire forest, yours a whisper in comparison. The idea that maybe, just maybe this can be repeated every now and then, that it wouldn't harm anyone fills your chest with a different kind of cheer, a hopeful sensation that suits the summer. He's proven his carefulness, making the best of the situation without risking either of you. The rising hope in you should scare you, but it doesn't. It only makes you sprawl under the sun like a cat enjoying the heat, and join his laughter with a big grin.

“Fair. Absolutely fair.”

===

The next time you see each other again, things seem to cool down a bit. It is entirely a civil dinner, always at a respectable distance, the number of times you lock eyes are countable on one hand (though some border the edge of being a little too long), and it is all not so surprisingly, plain. Maybe it is about both of you trying to contain one’s self, so much so that the other core aspect of both of you, the humorous side is buried that night and no other person can live up to its ghost. Perhaps it is due to the upcoming end of summer, bringing out a tinge of melancholy, already mourning the past, thus your impulses dwindle down, the sparkles absent.

That is, ‘til, you are the only occupants in the saloon, after the other guests have left, and your aunts retreated to their rooms. You are reading a book, barely aware of the fact when he, sitting next to you in that single armchair drops whatever pen he’s holding, just by your feet. You’re pulled out of your trance by the sound it creates, raising your gaze from the page just in time to see him bending over to retrieve it or- ending up completely kneeling in front of your legs.

He raises his head, and you watch the way his face softly being illuminated by the candlelight, a smile you can’t decide whether charming or devilish, long abandoning his mission.

That’s the moment the air shifts, and the room feels hotter like the cheminee is lit, the heat wave has returned, and taken both of you to that lakeside, and the week before it, the frustration and despair that came with being unable to take care of yourself. You haven’t felt such a thing after, perhaps, it’s due to your fulfilled state and therefore lack of trial, but now, the need returns, like adding more to an already full cup, realization only hitting after the drops spill from the sides. The cup demands to be emptied, - translation: your soul demands whatever pleasure you can get your hands on- and the image of him causing it is certainly a preference.

(Again, it is your soul that’s demanding it- your brain would very much like to lock you away in the furthest corner of this house, or kick him, if that’s all you can manage.)

“Excuse me?”

“I just remembered how I failed to say how beautiful you look tonight.” 

“Thank you.” Your mouth speaks before you can protest the improperness of your situation. Color settles on your cheeks for accepting his compliment first. “What are you doing?”

“Collecting my pen.” He shrugs, and demonstratively takes it to his hand, yet it is once more left to the ground instead of the nearest table, with the rest of his papers. He adds, “I admire how you are an expert in navigating every social situation, whether it's a boring dinner like this, or a ball.

Your eyebrows raise at the boring part, after all, it's hosted by your relatives, and it wasn't exactly boring, maybe a little uneventful. “Not every occasion has to be full of adventure, Lord Kenobi. Slow nights like this are beneficial for the soul. Gives the mind some rest.” 

He purses his lips, like he’s been told on his bluff, the one part he emphasized to sound strong. Because, he is. He had fun tonight, the type that fills one’s heart with sweet lethargy. “I suppose you’re correct. But you’re missing out on an important detail.”

“And what is that?”

“The right company.”

You’re glad that your hands were pressing against the book, holding the page, because if they weren’t, they would be visibly shaking.

“I have underestimated how much I missed you, that much is clear to me now.” Barely speaking, or barely speaking anything important with you throughout the evening, yet he feels rejuvenated, the ache in his chest becoming prominent as it starts the heal. He doesn’t say the last part, but the sentiment is reflected in the soft sparkle behind his eyes, the hypnotic storm, pulling you towards unknown chaos, but beautiful, and promising safety in its center. That’s why you don’t protest as his hand reaches for yours, brushing your knee (he wanted to do that for some time, to feel the soft fabric that basically decorates your body), interlocking fingers, and reluctantly retreating them in favor of taking the book that sits in your lap, setting it aside. You don’t protest, despite the screams in your head, saying he’s right there why is he still there-

 “And the other thing I missed terribly, the sight of your legs.”

Your shaky inhale echoes.

His fingers gently close over your ankles, and travel upwards slowly, lifting your dress alongside. “Though I’ve only seen them twice, they might be my favorite view, ever.”

“Is that so?” You are perplexed by the confession, with a lazy grin, very much enjoying the seduction. His way with words seems like a constant threat to your sanity, but damn do you adore it dearly, a voluntary victim to its spell.

“Why would I ever lie to you?” He whispers, hands tightening. “I like them very much. But I think I would like them better around my shoulders.” He pulls your knees slightly, causing you to yelp as your back caves in, and grasps your ankles once more, proceeding to demonstrate exactly his words.

“What are you doing?” You ask, like you don’t know the answer. It is a statement, an acknowledgment, the last chance to bring some sense into any of you. You’re in the living room, in a house that is not your own, filled with people who are still very well awake, and can just decide to come in.

“Having a second dessert, if I may?” And how can you refuse, after the image is served to you on a golden plate?

“But at the lake - You were-” 

“You think I'm doing this for recompensation?”

“No, I didn't mean to imply that.” God, this is embarrassing. “I just wanted to say I might miss having my way with you.”

“I’ll be glad to take that as a promise.”

Then, it is settled. 

Still, he waits for your small nod and takes in the way you bite your lip, wishing he was the one to do so, but- priorities. Time is a valuable asset, especially now, and he has to honor his offer. That’s why he opts for a few small, open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, actively fighting the desire to leave bruises, evidence, a memory. Judging by the rapidness of your breath, it seems he has reached his goal in some way. It’s the beard- scratching your skin even when his mouth is not doing something, sensitizing the flesh and making it all too susceptible to the incoming assault. Your hand flies up, absentmindedly reaching for his hair, yet stopping a second before, landing on the couch instead- if you messed up his hair, there’s no coming back from it. He chuckles at your struggle, the warm breath making you squirm. Even if you don’t, he’s maddened by action, despite the laugh. He has you- but not really. He’s enveloped in your heat, taking in your scent, and seconds away from tasting you, but is not able to be blessed with the slight pain he'd felt if you tugged on his strands, or the untamed sounds you’d have sung in a more private setting.

So yes, he’s as torn and desperate as you. Slow nights, you said? 

Truth be told, it doesn’t matter what adjective comes before the word; slow or fast, boring or exciting as hell, freezing or hellishly hot; if it is with you, it is a good night. Otherwise, it is lacking. The world may be painted gray forever, considering you two mostly don’t get the chance to spend more than two occasions together in a week, but there can be no comparison to colorful scene of those moments.

And this is the night Obi Wan admits that fact.

You both moan, when his tongue finally meets your cunt, licking a messy stripe. It is more of a vibration than a noise- possibly for the best. It makes you jolt, and his hold tightens, and again, it is for the best, because when he decides to pay attention to your clit after his time exploring your folds is done, your limbs start to shake, threatening to fall. Your eyes roll back when things settle, and pleasure starts to build up, your juices flowing, and he drinks it all in before they have the chance to make a mess of your dress.

That is the first time he takes a break. “Eyes on me, darling.”

What is with him and that special request?

Your whine doesn’t mean anything to him, except make his cock twitch in his now tight trousers- but that has other reasons too. He waits ‘til your eyelids open once more, and you meet his gaze, and a second longer, unable to resist the urge to get lost in your hazy expression. Then, he dives back in, swirling the muscle around your bundle of nerves. In any other circumstance, you’d have thought this would be too indelicate, so straight to the point, no fun or respect, yet his way to do so is anything but those qualities. His movements are precisely designed for you, slow enough to not cause discomfort, fast enough to make the best of your unknown time limit. You’re afraid to deduce that one time was enough for him to learn you, one time to turn your world upside down, and leave you to deal with the memory of it. 

“Sweetie?” That’s the first time your eye contact is broken. The world freezes for a second before it does, and your head whips to the direction the sound has come from, to find your aunt by the door. Miraculously, she continues to stand there, unbothered by the long and protective distance which compromises of the dining table and the back of your couch, a perfect cover for the scandal that is taking place. Obi Wan stills, perhaps even stops breathing, yet he’s the one to snap you out of your shock with his grip around your skin. It is ridiculously encouraging, knowing he's not abandoning you on your own, even at the expense of getting caught, and the dread it would surely follow.

“Yes, auntie?” You gulp. Trying not to sound breathless is a clear effort.

“Have you seen Lord Kenobi?”

Your reputable smartness lags, the answer of yeah, he’s right here IN BETWEEN MY LEGS, occupying your mind.  “I think he went out to get some air, I haven’t seen him for some time.”

“How odd.” She comments, “And what are you doing there on your own?”

“Reading my book.” You smile, and hope your cheeks’ tremble isn’t too noticeable. “It’s quite good- couldn’t tell the time.”

She scorns. “Oh, now I see- he must’ve gotten bored as you were buried in your book. You truly should work on your guest etiquette, dear. And Lord Kenobi, of all people!”

“Auntie!” Your eyes widen, and you squeal a little, and feel Obi Wan giggling quietly.

“I’m just saying, that you should treat him better- he’s a good person, and obviously fancies you.”

“Auntie!”

“I mean, I like him? Don’t you like him?”

The urge the scream has never been stronger.

To escape the subsequent questions should you answer otherwise, you give in, and sag.” I do.” And the worst thing is, you actually do. Objectively, you like him, all his little jokes and sweet tongue (no pun intended), the elegant form he carries himself in, and the kind nature he never fails to live up to. Except for the dangerous extent your relationship is getting into, there’s nothing about him that you don’t like. And truthfully, even that is barely a matter you care about, proven by your current situation. 

You can feel him smile, the coarse facial hair biting into your skin, rubbing like a cat, and the sensation is followed by a kiss on your thigh. 

“Then you know what I am saying is the truth.” She raises her eyebrows in a motherly manner, a loving attempt of intervention. “Don’t stay up too late, no matter how absorbing that book is. We are invited for breakfast to the Mon’s Estate.”

Thankfully, she’s gone like that, saving you the act.

When you turn to your front again you find the need to come up with a warning to make him shut up unnecessary for he kisses you, silencing both of you. The action brings color to your cheeks more than ever in this entire evening. The fact that you can taste yourself on his tongue aside, he’s so gentle about it, like congratulating your success, or admiring your talent, pouring out his affection for you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his wide torso, it is how good it feels. When you two part, the lack of breath gets the best of you, only then do the swarming butterflies in your stomach begin to disturb you again.

But you’re not so quick to forget the last couple of minutes. Perhaps you've spoken too soon back then at the lake, thinking this could be continued. You’d imagined the rest of this scene a little differently, letting him follow you to your room, returning the favor, but that scare has only helped you to brew a storm inside you.

“Obi Wan…” You whisper, brows cinched in concentration as he towers over you, claiming all your senses. “We can’t- we have to stop…”

“Sshh, calm down.” His thumb draws circles on your skin, trying to soothe you in one aspect, if not every. He’s not going to let you go to your bed shaken like this, for starters. “Take a deep breath.”

You try, twice before you can manage to fill your lungs in their entirety, and your achievement is rewarded with a peck to your neck. Some of the air leaves you in an abrupt exhale because of it, and he curses himself for it.

“Follow my lead.” He tries again, reclining on his knees, giving you space. It is another challenge to look into his ocean eyes, and match his pattern, but you manage, your heart beat semi-regular after a minute or so.

Semi, for said eyes and your bare pussy are face to face, and all common sense loses its importance, burned by the fire inside you.

“Obi Wan- please…”

“You sure?” He will be very disappointed if you change your mind, but he has to ask, play the sensible part. And ignore the constant throb in his trousers that has become even more unbearable after you confessed your feelings.

“Just… make it quick.” Oh, are you seriously requesting an orgasm like ordering a cake in a café?

“As you wish, love.”

He starts out the same, just playing his game a little faster, and he holds your hand as he does so, the small detail as efficient as his moves. But, the final blow is his other hand, prodding against your entrance. The flood of memories doesn’t help either, as you remember that night. A loud moan threatens to leave you, and you slap your palm against your mouth. He stops ‘til you are secured, praise in his eyes, and pushes the two digits in, stretching you out in the way. Your fingers are nothing in comparison, and he notices it immediately, the way your walls hug him. 

Though, he’s an expert, and can absolutely manage to take care of you properly, so there’s nothing but pleasure, your slick channel welcoming the intrusion. It is not long before he feels the resistance fading and returning in a new form, as your climax approaches, and your muscles begin to quiver.

With your noises secured in your throat, the only form of communication is your connected hands, squeezing each other sometimes enough to risk breaking fingers. He understands what you mean perfectly, reaching up to a certain speed, then keeping it the same ‘til you start trashing, legs violently shaking around his body, and juices dripping, this time more than he can clean up. If any other time, he wouldn’t stop ‘til he feasted on every drop of it, but he withholds himself, respecting the clouds of danger. He’s glad to have helped with your anxiety, yet he doesn’t want to carry the ease to dangerous level and make you susceptible to be swayed in whatever direction.

Well, the image of his messy, wet beard certainly sends you through the wrong one, but already your nerves are not able to take more risks tonight, so you just bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, and lower your legs to the ground as he starts by cleaning out his fingers. It is hard to believe any man would try this much to indulge in your every aspect, but here he is, careful about even the smallest part.

Damn, you want to take him to your room and let him have his way with you so bad- but this is enough adventure for a night.

“Good night, Lord Kenobi.” You say, fixing your skirt, and standing up on shaky legs with your book clutched in the tightest grip against your belly.

“Good night, darling.” He nods, a content smile. “Send my compliments to the chef. “

===

“Lord Kenobi?”

You’re justified in your shock, enough to express it out loud in the middle of the jewelry shop, the last place you’d expect to run into him. Of course, he’s a neat and subtle man, and his appearance reflects his statue, though in a very calculated yet effortless manner. His pocketwatch is a family heirloom, so you’ve been told, a chic piece he takes great care of, and while his cufflinks are always elegant, it is never that eye-catching. It only compliments its wearer, you dare say, a final addition to an already completed painting.

(You never denied his handsomeness, and this is an objective opinion. Don’t read much into it.)

His supposed loneliness coupled with the fact that he looks utterly lost and bored, your curiosity is aggravated further.

Also, bumping into each other? What is this, a trick of fate?

“Madame.” He bows, and moves to press a kiss to your hand, the tradition not forgotten. His shock is easily ridden, unlike yours. The small blush on his cheeks and the wide grin on his lips tell contradictory stories, not that you’re judging, but the evident thing is his excitement.

“What are you doing he-”

“What a coincidence-“ His interruption is most unexpected, along with the high pitch in his voice.

You tilt your head, further dazed, but before the suspicion creeps in (you would be terrified to turn your gaze and find women’s accessories laid out for his picking on the table, for somebody else or for you; the latter being the lesser evil, but still disturbing), another joins, though he doesn’t seem to notice you at first.

“How helpful you are being, Obi Wan!” The tall young man with light brown hair calls out, necklaces hanging from both hands. You have a feeling that if he wasn’t busy, there would’ve been a physical reaction as well, a friendly pat on his shoulder, perhaps. “Don’t you know this is important? I need-“

His sentence is broken when he catches your attentive gaze, and realizes you are a part of this conversation as well. You’re amused by how glass-like he is, full of emotions and not afraid to show them. He looks at you, and back to Obi Wan, who finally decides it’s time for an introduction. The expression of recognition flashes through his face in a second as your name is revealed, but you can’t reflect it back fully. You have heard of Kenobi’s best friend or as some call it, brother, although barely from the man himself. You've witnessed how Kenobi's eyes lighten up with pride whenever Skywalker was mentioned, and stories- summaries of their adventures together that he told. The shortness of them wasn't a result of his unwillingness to tell them, but the circumstances of your company, never long or alone enough to visit them in their deserved entirety. 

To be honest, Anakin doesn't know much about you either. He and Padme prefer the countryside by the sea, especially during the summer, thus he and Obi Wan hadn't had the means to talk often lately. He senses the situation, by the slight tension in the older man's voice; this strong, confident man crumbling into pieces for some unknown reason. 

“Pleased to meet you, my Lady.” He makes a small cursty, which you mirror.  

“Likewise, Lord Skywalker.” 

“I’m afraid I’ll need my friend back to keep his promise.” The chains in his hands shake as he speaks, reminding the absurdity of it all. You’re not disturbed by it though, for all is concealed under his charismatic voice and mimics. He’s pretty and he knows it, which gives him all the tools to captivate others. Now you understand why people speak about him like that, moved by hearing his name alone.

“Oh, not a problem at all. We were just saying hello.” Entertained by the interaction, your anxiety is somewhat diminished, enough to let him go without an explanation. Also, the way that he rolls his eyes, and clenches his jaw is very cute, you dare say.

“Promise? I never promised anything.” He murmurs, but it is still audible for you as he follows his friend. And the rest, which makes you laugh whenever you remember it. “Anakin- she's your wife, you know her better than me. How exactly do you expect me to help you?”

“You always had a vision when it comes to beautiful things. Not like my eyes, which are only accustomed to the dirt and grease of machinery.”

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop grinning, while you start talking with the salesman about the bracelet you’ve given them to restore. They make you sit and wait for a couple of minutes, all of which you spend trying to not spy on them. Fortunately, the shop is quite crowded, and their conversation is a part of the low grumble. A cup of tea is placed in front of you, as well as some new pieces they think you might like.

The one that catches your attention is not among them, however. It is a ring with a blue stone, the tone too similar to something you can’t put your finger on. It is too big to be for a woman, clearly designed for the other sex, but you admire its elegance nonetheless.

“Here is your piece, Madame.” The young salesman returns with a package, just in time to stop you from reaching it.

“Thank you.” You take the precious item back into your hands and inspect the handwork. It is shining once again, polished, and the place you accidentally broke it is now attached, the handwork barely visible.

You release a deep breath, praying graces. You would’ve never forgiven yourself if the family heirloom was forever damaged from the incident. You almost cried when it happened, a stupid game you were playing with Carolina before a ball, when you had already gotten ready and she was counting the minutes to her bedtime.  

“That is beautiful.” Obi Wan joins you once more, now looking more relaxed. Your eyes search for Anakin and find him waiting for a package, reaching for his wallet. Mission accomplished. “May I?”

The chain slides into his hands, and wraps around your wrist under the watch of the young boy with a wholesome smile. He must think you two are engaged in some way, and there’s no turning back from it.

“Would that be all, Madame?”

“Actaully I-“ You remember about the ring, and even if you just want to unravel the mystery around it, the words have already left your mouth, and the entire tray is placed on the table.

Oh. Oh. With him next to you, suddenly it all makes sense. You’re holding the color of his eyes on your palm.

“That is beautiful too.” He remarks, embracing his role a little too much.

“I think it would suit you.” Now it is your turn to accessorize him. He is silent while you do so, taken aback by the unorthodoxty of it all.

“I’m not sure-“ Is all he manages to say, though can’t stop looking at it. It is ridiculously so well fitted around his finger, the fate pulling all strings to give a message.

“It compliments your eyes.” You defend yourself, perhaps a little too lively but you have no shame. It is the truth.

“The Lady is correct.” The boy joins your side, or does his job. “It is a most excellent match.”

“I might think about it.” Is how far he budges, returning it, and checking up on Anakin from where he’s standing. 

“How much do I owe you?”

“Please, allow me-“

The audacity? The though is reflected in your face, which makes him blush at his unnecessary offer.

“With the ring.” You add, and it is all said and done ‘til he has time to get rid of his embarrassment and intervene.

Then, you make him take the package from you, your fingers wrapping around his. “You’re allowed to have nice things, you know?” There’s not an ounce of sarcasm in your tone, only gentle suggestion. “You don’t have to wear it, but I want you to have it.”

“Thank you.”  

And you’re gone before Skywalker can catch up.

===

You truly don’t expect to see him wearing it, you really don’t.

But you’re proven wrong so, so badly.

He doesn’t take it off.

When he takes on his promise, and actually starts working on the ball he’s supposed to throw, the first thing he does is request for your uncle’s help. Then your uncle entrusts the job on you, and you’re spending hours with him like that, securing the musicians, bargaining for the food supplies, preparing invitation lists… Truly, that’s it. You too are surprised to accompany him that much and engage in nothing outside of the mission. Truthfully, a little concerning in the grand scheme of things, the inevitable result of your relationship improving, real sincerity. Although you have zero problems with the fact, enjoying it far too much. You don't care about how your contributions are secret, for your efforts surpass the limits of help that are considered friendly, and fully acknowledge that it is gonna be a damn good ball. 

Also, while you hate to see him distressed, it is a look on him that you are guilty of adoring. The nervousness is like a little crack in his shell, a way to see a part of him that rarely sees the daylight. And it is for something so feeble? Only half of his effort would be enough for a wonderful ball, and he still tries to do more, and gets agitated over that? You are cruel for laughing at that, you confess. But it is more of a balancing act, rather than a mock. Somebody's gotta play the sane part, lower the tension. 

You're ready to help with that, too.

“Do you think I should hire-” 

You're at his study, the place you've been sitting since the morning. Time flies with every cup of tea, and plates of biscuits, but after a while, things inevitably get boring. For you, at least. He's quite focused, brows scrunched, tie slightly loosened. You see him looking at the list that you've put together in the beginning, the possible ways to entertain his guest. 

You've already arranged the services of more than half of them. Twice the amount that would be considered enough.

And he's still going over it?

“That's enough!” Your open palm lands on the surface. 

Obi Wan doesn't expect your outburst. He doesn't flinch, but his mimics change in an equivalent way. His lips part, causing him to relax that clenched jaw -oh, you might have a point. 

“You. Need. To. Relax.” You’re now less frantic, due to his irresistibly clueless expression, though still firm in your cause. Fuck, how can he look at you with those doe eyes and expect you to… do anything! 

You get up, and reach for the papers, sending them in a far corner of the desk. While you do so, you are basically halfway in between him and the table. Putting the teacups and the pot back on the tray (it has grown cold a long time ago), you turn to him, almost sitting at the desk in order to fit that narrow space. The bashful smile on his face (as if he wasn’t enjoying the perfect view of your ass seconds before) breaks your heart once more.

Putting your hand on his shoulder, you mirror his emotion. “It’s gonna be a splendid night. The kind that people will talk about it for years. And I’m not exaggerating on that one. I would’ve said the same thing days ago, all before the last additions, too.”

It is a challenge to feel the warmth of your skin, and not lean against it. “You’re right.” He tugs on his collar, taking a deep breath. “But you know- I’ve never planned a ball in my life, and- I just need it to be perfect.”

You giggle, and replace your hand on his cheek that is colored with the confession of his little perfection obsession. You welcome the slight sting of his beard, like a habit, and caress his cheekbone. He dares not move, or even take a breath, only watching your pretty face focused on his, and relish the feeling of your thumb across his features.

“It’s going to be just that.”  You might’ve said, or a joke about his troubles, but words scurry off of your mind as you stay like that, squished in place as you try your best to comfort him.

“Can you kiss me?” The thought seems lunatic when uttered on a whim, but it has crossed your mind too, you must admit. 

“Only because you asked so nicely.” There's an undeniable urge to use his words back at him. 

Your back has to bend in an uncomfortable way for your lips to touch, but you have no complaints about it. The touch is so soft, laden with affection in the purest kind. It is obvious in every way, the movement of your mouths, determined to preserve the sweetness and sweetness alone, and the itch in your palms, mapping each other out over and over again, and the determination of your lungs, using every last drop of oxygen before demanding an exchange. 

“T-thank you for that, dear.” His eyes open after a few seconds, with a sheepish smile that causes him to speak in whispers.

It’s about to get real dangerous for you, if he keeps being this cute. 

“I’m not about to say we should've done it sooner, for it is a complete waste of our time repeating a truth well known, and I've already used that trick before, but maybe we should do it again.” 

Okay, but how does that kind of sass sound cute from your perspective?

“Don't push your luck.” You say, fingers smoothing his hair, and his complaint dies on his throat visibly. He purrs, eyelids closing. That's the moment you decide to press a small peck to his lips for all his troubles. It lasts longer than intended, and while it's definitely different than the previous one, him gripping your waist telling a different story. The weight of them is welcome nonetheless, and it serves as an anchor, like you two could be molded into a statue if he held it long enough.

However, he is the one to break the stillness, shifting in his chair- first of all, how dare he, you're doing the acrobatics here-

Oh.

He notices that you've noticed it. Clearing his throat, Obi Wan lets his hands slide to the table, just a centimeter away from your body. “It’s been some time.” His face remains focused on the floor.

Didn't he even take care of himself?

You push his shoulder back, and he takes it a step further without a blink, sliding away with his chair. 

What he doesn't expect, is for you to stay exactly where you are, only this time on your knees. He has to gulp once, then twice, because he finally looks at your face, smiling back at him. 

“May I help?” Admittedly, your fluttering gaze was unnecessary, and tips him even more. You don't miss the way he stabilizes his hands.

“By all means.” 

You start by unfastening the buttons of his tan trousers, letting your forearms rest on his thighs. He aids your quests by lifting his hips a little, being freed from the constraints of the fabric-

There he is.

You bite your lip at the sight, and the sight is not just his huge cock, already hard and weeping for you. It is about him, and the redness that creeps up his neck, the way he hisses and bites his knuckles at the cool air hitting his sensitive skin, how he claws at the armrest waiting for your touch. His head nearly hits the back of the chair when you finally do, a small moan leaving his exposed throat.

Well. You really should’ve done this sooner.

Your thumb swirls around his head, more fluid leaking out as you do so. Thus your fingers slide down his shaft easily, and he is coated in his slick in no time, along with your palm. It twists around him without rush, leaving him to wander in that dream like state without mentioning a finish line. You want to ask him, ask him how he likes it, or make him cover your hand with his, guiding you, but you also want him to stay just like this, eyes fixed with that heavy lidded gaze, partially obscured by that infamous strand of hair that refuses to be tamed like others. His mouth hangs open with loud breaths and sometimes graces you with sounds of his pleasure.  

“Harder.” The only instruction you need.

You clasp tighter and shudder like him, taking pride in your work. He can feel the strain in his muscles fading second by second, the problems in his mind are plucked out one after the other, replaced by your soothing words you repeated constantly for days at this point, and expert hands, creating the same effect on his body.

“Like this, Lord Kenobi?” You require you still acquire his opinion, a feedback, and his title rolls off of your tongue unintentionally. Honestly, there’s no explanation you can make even to yourself, but you are already over it as his cock twitches under your palm, and his groan fills the room.

“Y-yes. You’re doing- so good.”

That must be some sort of karma, for he is above the concept of revenge, but you’re left with an itch to grind your legs together at his praise. If you do that, you’ll probably feel your wetness smearing all over your skin, you’re sure of it.

And you’re determined not to be distracted.

Your other hand joins the game too, starting to massage his balls. That makes him tense under you for a moment, but the tension dissolves quickly, leaving him dizzier.

“Fuck-“ Even the simplest swear word sounds hypnotizing on his lips, “you’re perfect. Don’t stop.”

Like you had any intention to do that.

On the contrary, your intentions evolve in the direction after his words, perhaps even a little bit further. You lean in and lick a stripe up his length, the tip of your tongue dancing around his head, fully tasting him, before you take him to your mouth fully.

His hand flies up, shaking as it comes down, held back by the strongest of wills from delving into your hair. Instead, it inches closer to your cheek, and returns to the position before (because he may have just lost five years of his life feeling the way you swallow him), half-stabilized over the armrest. His head rolls back once more, unashamed to release his moans with your every move. The most sinful one comes out when you use your throat, gagging around his thickness. You repeat it, and he whimpers, earning an equal sound from you too.

This time, you don’t have to ask him anything. The eye contact as you recover your breath, and continue to stroke him tells you everything you need to know, tells how much he enjoys it.

“Please- darling-“

You don’t try to choke on him again, but keep a rhythm with your tongue and your palm. He reaches climax quickly nonetheless, throbbing in your mouth and coating it white. Obi Wan feels sorry for not warning you, a sense of guilt rising alongside that pleasure, but it once again came over with lust as you gulp it down without a blink. He even fears he might go hard in a second, against all the rules of nature. You provoke that in all ways possible, pressing small kisses to his shaft, occasionally licking it, and letting your head rest on his thigh.

“Thank you.” It is so out of place to say that for this kind of act, but it is the sentence that is spoken, breaking the silence.

“You’re welcome, my Lord.” Thankfully, you raise your gaze just in time to miss the way his cock moves. You straighten your back and throw your shoulders back, stretching like you’ve just woken up.

So cute and so filthy.

“I’d like to return the favor.” He says, the action fueled only by his kind and generous soul.

“Some other time.” Your smile reflects the acknowledgment, not mocking his advances. “I am expected from home.”

“Ah, pity. Send my regards to your family.” He can’t help but feel envious of them. Do they know to treasure your company, not take a second of it for granted? Do they know what you did to him, before joining them? Would they be as accepting as ever, aware of your scandalous affairs?

Of course not.

But even then, you’d deserve much better than what they would treat you like. Your courage alone is enough to make the world bow down to you.

And what if your family means something other than your blood, your relatives? What if it was a stranger, a man undeserving, but had you to himself every night, when you returned home from your daily activities? A lucky fool who had the blessing of knowing you’d be by his side soon, every damn day.

His fingers turn into fists as you clean yourself up, so pretty in your ignorance to his gaze, brows slightly furrowed as you smooth out the wrinkles on your dress.

“Shall do.” And with your cheery voice, he doesn’t even notice his grip is unclenched.

===

Red isn’t his color. Some say it suits him well, that the stark contrast is eye-catching, but he doesn’t like to carry it. At this point of his life, it’s not even about his clothing choices, he prefers anything over that pigment in every possible scenario; the sheets, the carpets, the flowers… He makes a point of avoiding that powerful color.

Not today, though.

He has no word over how you dress and for once, tries very hard to stay neutral, not verbalize his choices when you mention the outfit you’ll be wearing in his ball, and it is a successful endeavor. (Knowing you and your stubbornness, it would probably only damage the bond between the two of you, something you’ll quip for years, or God forbid, keep you from attending at all.)

In the end, you wear it, and he ends up where he doesn’t want to be. Drowning in that bloody cloud. Without remorse, for the first time in his life.

For once, he finds himself chasing after it, taking joy in its liveliness, surrendering to the dangerous promises it makes. Your presence brings energy to every room you enter. The candles seem to burn brighter, and the warmth in his chest is not solely a result of both of your accomplishment of the spectacle. Obi Wan smiles ear to ear, eyes almost closed because of it, and he wants nothing more than to dance with you all night long, bury his hands in that expensive fabric and feel the burn in your cheeks, painted with the same color. He doesn’t even mean it in a perverse way. He wants to celebrate the payoff of your efforts, let the pride be felt, and enjoy the treats like all the guests, or even more than them (it would be more than fair to do so), together.

Alas, the society you both live in isn’t the type to accept such things. In order to not taint the event with the bitterness reserved for that principle, he doesn’t ask for more than six dances, or follow you around the saloon like a lost puppy. While it is never enough, he counts and cherishes the accidental eye contacts, and your hands holding his in dances, or the different circles you ran into each other and have snippets of various conversations. He accepts every compliment with your name tied behind his tongue and feels relieved with each passing hour, realizing how perfect everything is going, thanks to your pieces of advice and restrictions. He is light as a feather underneath all those layers he had to put on for the evening, without the pressing intention of taking it all off as soon as possible.

But, there are two sides to every coin, and here comes the other side, halfway through the night, the prejudice he had returning sinisterly.

He does a decent job of suppressing his jealousy, for all the purposes he’s thought of before. He can glance over when you dance with a stranger, or two, ricocheting on the stage and putting on a show for everyone. He chooses to admire the beauty you’re radiating, shining like a rose after the rain. It keeps him occupied for a while. But when an hour passes and you’re not even looking at his general direction, way too engulfed in your conversation with them, he feels a distaste rising in him. The red bleeds into his heart, poisoning him. It slowly takes over, and by the time you throw your head back with a burst of laughter that echoes in the room, he’s entirely filled with it. His hands twitch with every dream of ripping the source of that poison from your skin in a cove meant for just the two of you, away from all the vultures that eat and drink and savor his doings and yet ready to crucify him at his slightest flaw.

Obi Wan is one step away from sending everyone to their homes when you escort that man to the garden. Honestly, the only reason he doesn’t is because you return in a minute or two, the tip of your nose giving away all he needs to know- it’s chilly.

And he didn’t even give you his jacket?

On the second thought, it’s best that he didn’t, because then Obi Wan wouldn’t even bother to get rid of the crowd to have his way with him.

“Lord Kenobi.” You manage to catch him alone, on the balcony. He’s up there to calm his nerves, over you, unbeknownst to you. Unfortunately, his progress is lost the second he hears your voice, and it is truly an effort to act otherwise.

The night is on the brink of ruin for him, and it doesn’t have to be that way for you. This is why he tries so hard.

“I must congratulate you on this beautiful ball. It is a night to remember.”

“Don't say it like the honor doesn't belong to us both.”

You shrug, as if whisking all the credit away. But your eyes twinkle with pride. 

“I haven't had this much fun in ages,” You chirp,  “I would've begged for another one already, if I hadn't witnessed the toll it took on you.” He covers his face at the mention of the state he has been in for the last couple of weeks. “Oh God, don't.” 

“Oh God, you just didn't expose yourself like that! When will you start enjoying this?” Your laugh is a hidden giveaway of how many glasses you had tonight. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed for those who may inquire.” Your lips. Wrapped around his cock. Mapping out his neck. Keeping his secrets.  “Remember that every word that comes out of my mouth is said by a person who attended all types of feasts all over the continent for a decade now. I grew up around these circles.” Shrugging, you add. “Perhaps that was my undoing.”

“Undoing? I could never call you “undone”.” Ironic, how you make him forget about before and continue to concern him with totally different subjects.

“You’re right.” Thoughts come out a little slow, but your effort is evident on your face. “I just had too many opportunities to start over in new places, experience everything that I was curious about, and that all led me to discover exactly what I liked, what I wanted from life.”

“How’s that a bad thing?” 

“I’m not willing to let that go anytime soon.” You can’t help but notice that it sounds like some sort of prison of your will, but that’s not a discussion you can have tonight. “Anyways, Obi Wan. I must be going now, just wanted to pay my compliments and wish you good night.” 

“I thought you’d stay the night-“Well, that’s definitely not the case, “But it is so early?”

“You know our houses are not so close, any later than this and I’m going to fall asleep on the road out of habit.”

Yeah, that’s why he thought it would be perfectly reasonable for you to stay over. 

“I see.” And he wishes he had gone blind and deaf. “Then, allow me to bid you good night, my Lady.” 

He takes your hand, placing a kiss you can very much feel despite the fabric. What he doesn’t expect, is for you to press your palm against his chest in return, because he doesn’t know of the urge you have to not leave. It is a split second of override, before you can command your feet to move again, blissfully unaware how tender that moment was.

===

A day. A full day. That’s how long he can refrain from seeing you. Funny, the meetings have become a habit for him, and although he needed you back then, he needs you more now, for completely different reasons, and you’re not there that morning- and why would you be? There’s no arrangement that demands your assistance anymore. Your praises are all said and done, and if to be repeated, it wouldn’t certainly be a matter that required urgency for you to show up at his door.

And maybe, you have other places to be, other doors to knock. Perhaps you’d enjoy a change of air.

So, he has come to yours.

Naboo. Aldreaan. Correlia. The cities churn in his mind, alongside your image in every one of them. The flowers in your hand as you roam the fields of Naboo, the coat that doesn’t do much for the redness on the tip of your nose while you lodge in the mountains of Alderaan. The exquisite jewelry you wear to a Correlian masquerade, outshining every debutante in the room. He imagines the people hypnotized by your presence (what can they be, other than blessed), or you gliding among them (after all, discretion was your powerful suit). And the worst of all, he thinks of the man escorting you, claiming their dances, bringing you a glass of their rare wines, walking with you in the natural scene, their savage arms around you, their hands groping your curves, pulling sweet sounds from you.

(No, the purpose of his visit was not that. )

He invites himself in from your open balcony, catching you as you start your nightly routine. You’re taking off your hairpins, when he does the courtesy of knocking on the glass, startling you just a little. You jump, but thankfully do not scream, the reflex somehow suppressed. Truth be told, it’s not because your shock actually dwindles. If anything, it is redirected into a different question, going from “What the fuck was that?” to “Why the fuck is he here?”

“Good night, darling.” He gestures for you to sit again, and you do, returning to your chair in front of the vanity. Your head has to crane in a strange way for you to see him, but thankfully, he comes closer and solves the problem, eyes meeting through the mirror. And his face lights up as he sets foot in the room, like he too has forgotten everything but this moment, his jealousy and desperation left behind the walls. That’s how the question of “What are you doing here?” is not immediately articulated.

 Instead, you say, “Good night, Obi Wan.”

“I see I managed to visit you just in time.” Look at him, fixing his beard, laughing nervously. He just climbed to the second floor, and his heart only got racing now.

“Lucky you.” Honestly, you don't think there's a “wrong time” in his perspective, at least when it comes to you. A few minutes later, and he'd see you in your nightgown. Would that deter him from setting his foot in here? Most, most, most likely, no. Don't dwell on that thought, though. “And what do I owe the pleasure?” You try not to focus too much on the fact that you have him and your bed in the same frame, through the reflection. 

“I thought I would see you today.” Is that sarcasm in his tone, or a little bit of self-humiliation?

This must be some sort of a Shakespeare play, right? 

Oh my God, it is. 

“Ah.” You fiddle with your hairbrush, the eye contact broken, your attempt to stop any matter from escalating this night. Any matter. Not that you had any questions when it came to his morals, he probably was the one person you’d never doubt, but in terms of his intentions to be here tonight startled you in a much different light. “I slept in late today. Didn’t even leave the house.”

Oh. That makes quite the sense.

“Actually I still feel a little bit exhausted.”

“That’s because you had too much fun without me last night.” A treacherous scoff falls from his lips as he shakes his head. The moment that the tides turn. The one that brings back all the crude questions.

“What? No? What do you mean?” For all your effort to remain calm, you look alarmed, that tired face with doe eyes showing it all, and he feels sorry for a second, troubling you over his overthinking ass.

Then, he spots the bracelet you wore last night, lying haphazardly over a piece of paper on the corner of the table. It looks very much like a letter.

It’s not hard for him to advance his speculations.

“I think you know it already.”

“Obi Wan.” You twist to actually face him, your arm on the back of the chair. “Why are you here?”

He takes a few steps back, as if the air is stolen from the short distance between the two of you. He runs a hand through his hair, undisturbed by its messy result. You can see him biting into his cheeks, trying to select the right words. In the end, all that effort seems unnecessary, because when he speaks, the sentence can’t be any simpler. “Who was the man you spent an hour with last night?”

Wincing, you take a few seconds to process. It’s not about the answer, but his motive, his audacity that irks you. You stand up and speak. This time, your voice is sharp as ice. “That’s none of your business.”

He blinks a few times, so sure of his righteousness, and determined. “You were in my house, at our ball, dancing and talking with strangers and not even glancing in my direction for the better half of the night. I think it’s some of my business.”

“I was by your side for much longer than it is acceptable, Kenobi, do I need to remind you? We danced six times and greeted the majority of guests together.” You’ll not let the truth be ignored. “Any longer than that and there would be rumors all over the society today, and even I would’ve heard about it despite staying here all day. I didn’t come this much by pushing boundaries at every fucking chance I get. I picked my battles, the thing you seem incapable of.”

“So, am I to understand, this thing between us,” The look on his face dares you to deny the existence of it, “is not worth picking?”

This is the possibility that scared you. And for good reason, it seems. You close your eyes, in order to not roll them, and purse your lips. He uses the moment to reach for your arms, like he could appeal for an answer from you. “Don’t you love what we have?”

You couldn’t feel any worse under the warmth of his hands, affection pouring out of them despite the rage in him. “I love what we had.”

“Had?”

“It’s obvious that we can’t keep doing this, is it not?”

Confusion leaves its place to anger once more, for all the wrong reasons and his face darkens. “Oh, I see. You secured yourself a new entertainment, and now you have to get rid of the old one.”

You shrug out of his hold, distancing yourself from him. The source of the problem is not what he claims it to be, and it infuriates you, along with the accusations he taints you with.  “Don't you dare reflect your own degeneration on me like that! It’s not about my damn cousin’s damn friend, it’s about you!” It is nearly a scream, the highest pitch that wouldn’t grab attention. Still, reflectively, you turn your head to the door, which you had luckily locked. “Leave now, you bastard!”

Honoring the part he was assigned in that theatre play, he focuses on the wrong part of the words, the crumbles of information giving him hope, and dim his doubts. “So there's nothing between you and him?”

Seething, you are red with fury, taking a sharp breath, pointing your finger at him like a gun. “Get. Out.” 

“Is there?” 

Your tongue is determined not to let him hear your words, despite the truth in them. It will not lead to any good. 

But so will his closeness.

When did he get so close? 

The moment you look into his ocean eyes, the decision to say anything is deemed impossible. The decision to do anything, actually. His arms cage you against the cluttered table, and yours end up on his chest, though without any intention of pushing him away.

“Answer my question, and I will.” 

How could you? How can you be able to resist his utmost sincerity, the desperation in his behaviors and the brutality of his words contrasted in the way he looks at you, the caging without actually touching you. Your suffocation is only a result of your inner turmoil, the desire to spit out the truths, clear his heart and give in to the love he's handing out, but terrified of the places it will take the two of you.  

“I’m waiting, darling.”  You can’t help but watch his perfect lips move, his voice licking your skin. 

You gulp, an action he doesn’t miss, and dares to laugh at it. Obi Wan can see the exact moment your gaze returns to being that of an eris, though the flames remind him of a different time.

A very different time. 

“I hate you.” It is perhaps the most childish thing you’ve ever said in years, and it shows. 

So, that’s his cue to kiss you.

For all your claims, still, he doesn’t miss the small moan you let out, swallowing it with pride. Your soft lips move against his like a habit, anticipating every move and the next, a choreography you both know all too well  albeit in a much swifter tempo. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer but his stay in the same spot, afraid to disturb you, though gripping the edges hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Though, when he tugs at your bottom lip, asking for more, you grant him that, your tongues joining the dance. You whimper, the action triggering your inhibitions to loosen up, like each second wipes the doubts away. It is a sugared water, only serving to increase the thirst instead of quenching it. So you don't stop drinking it.

Not til you absolutely have to.

“No, you don’t.” 

Two seconds have to pass for you to understand his response. With his breath still warming your cheeks, even brushing them with his nose, yes he dares now, the statement is the undeniable truth.

However, not that you're ready to admit it. He already knows too much, all the things you like, all your weak spots, all of your soul.

“Yes, I- oh” And he's not the one to endure your lies. His fingers delve into your scalp, putting traction into your hair ‘til you have to tilt your head back to release the tension, forcing you to look at him through your lashes. Still, eye contact is not what he seeks, for he has as much a chance of getting lost in it as you. He uses the expanse of skin you offer, and dives in for that specific spot that has your legs going limp. It has two consequences: Firstly, you are stuck between him and the table, the latter supporting you too little that the weight rests almost entirely on his body, every plane of him touching yours. Secondly, the angle puts the mirror in the corner of your sight, and you have a maddening view of what’s happening. It is enough to make old ladies screech and faint, and artists to slave to immortalize the scene.  

“You’re a bastard.” You murmur the last bit of objection, solely for the object of throwing it out of the tip of your tongue. He hears, though quite unbothered, the retort to break you further leaves his mouth readily.

“Call me whatever you want, dear, you’re the one begging for it.”

Of course, you only pant in return. Even when he threatens to nip and bite at the sensitive nerves, you don’t stop him. Furthermore, your calf twists around his as much as it is able in that impossible posture. An invitation.

“And what else would you let me do to you? Would you let me take you to your bed?”

You nod, frantically. “Yes, please Obi Wan- take me”

That’s a sentence straight out of his dreams.

The second your feet touch the ground, both of you gather the ends of your dress, yanking it out to throw it haphazardly on the floor. Your stays and chemise follow the same fate, then it is his jacket and shirt. He taps on your thigh, like he would let you walk the five meter distance between there and the bed, you jump, a little shakily (not that you ever had questions about his strength). Fuck, it excites you how easily and softly he lands you on the edge of it. You reach for his trousers, but he stops you and urges for you to scoot back, and lay down.

Because that’s the best way he can rid you of your shoes and stockings.

Your knees stick together as he works on one foot, and the other. The shoes drop with a loud thud, making you bite your lip, close your eyes for a moment and pray nobody investigates. It’s no wonder that after that small break, your pupils meet once more. How ironic that it is the cause of your concern, and the only solution.

You can feel his fingertips skimming the top of the only clothing left on you. While the touch is stimulating enough, it is the fact that you have to spread your legs a little to allow him to undress you, giving him a view of your wet pussy.

Nothing that he hasn’t seen before, but that doesn’t affect the way you tremble.

Throwing your head back, you let him slide the stretchy fabric down. Slowly. Like his piercing gaze isn’t enough. You’re squirming by the end of it, all thoughts of getting him out of his outfit gone (-or delayed, should you still believe yourself.)

Thankfully, he takes care of it, the sounds of his buttons unfastened echo in the room. 

Though he has no rush to join you. 

You turn your face to search for what's taking him so long, a whine in your throat when he kneels. That's unlike him. 

You feel cold without his body looming over yours. And he has a hard time not to do that, not falling for the flush of red and your hard nipples. Especially when you're so gone that you may come undone just from that.

He'd like to see that. 

But he has to make you understand how you keep him in that state, ignorant of his troubles, even as the solution is obvious and wanted by both sides, however the other can't accept it out of simple stubbornness.

Thus, he plays the deaf now, as he grips the supple flesh of your thighs, squeeze and move as he pleases, exposing your core to air while he busies himself with other parts. He claims you with his lips, mapping out, pushing you down to the mattress every time you jolt because he’s so close just a little to the left- But perhaps the worst is his vulgar taunts, whispered, to himself mostly, a way to speak out the anger.

“Are you this wet for all the men you hate?”

“No.” You cry, not able to stand the accusations. “It’s you.”  And it is the truth. There are no other men on the planet that you would bear being treated like this by, or attempt to change their opinion of you. But now, you need him to know that. You can’t imagine a future with his back always turned to you, or be subject to his very much forced small talk with empty, or worse, hatred filled eyes. It is a reveal of a side of you that you had to keep hidden and downplay, to be free at the end of the day, give both of you an opportunity to walk out, but it doesn’t matter if the said fallout leaves his judgment of you sour. You care about his perception, and would do your best to change it should it be mixed with lies. Truth, and nothing less, is what he deserves.

A wave of relief floods his heart, that simple answer is all he wishes to hear. There’s also a bit of rage, for knowing you’d never admit it in any other circumstance. Alas, the smile appearing on his face is unstoppable. Even as he finally begins to eat you out.

A moan leaves your mouth at the first contact, which is nothing more than a small kiss. That bad, uh? As he licks everything he can reach, it turns into a whine, because it is evident he has no concern about making you cum quickly, or in a normal amount of time. He just continues to do whatever he was doing before, exploring every nook and cranny, and marking, like he intends to commit this moment to his memory. It may not have been his first time, (or the second), but he’s doing it for himself now, your desperation sadly not a priority. You also suspect he’s doing it to drive you mad, using his previous experience and remembering how sensitive you got when his beard rubbed against your skin.

“Obi Wan-“ Your back arches, a hand reaching for his hair. He stops it all by jostling your legs with a hold that could leave imprints. It takes half of your willpower to stay in the place he put you in, and that means you only have the other half to process the indescribable pleasure he’s giving. It is gonna be fast, whether he plans it or not.

“Could you actually throw this away? How can you pick anything else over this?” You knew it would be a hard transition. The magic he created is haunting and ready to jump on you in those dark corners, even after many years. There is no cure for ghosts, after all. The thought now seems impossible, the last thing that could cross your mind. Simply impossible. He emphasizes by nudging your clit, every single movement forcing a sound out of you. “That's right. I’m going to remind you how good we are together, make you feel so good that you'll forget anything but us.” 

The passion in his words scares you, but it would be a lie to say they don't excite you in some way, making your heart flutter in your chest at his devotion and to be able to still feel safe only supported by the honest bond you two have. You chant his name as he smothers himself in your folds, sucking and flicking your raw bundle of nerves. He loves to feel you twitch when you are overwhelmed, but not enough to climax. 

Then, he scrapes your clit with his teeth, and you're gushing, head thrown back, a silent scream in your mouth. The hot lava inside you doesn't cool down, paying its visit to every part of you, making stars explode behind your eyes and body trash against the sheets. To be perfectly honest, he didn't expect this much either, his strong muscles tightened to keep you from closing your legs, a string of curses muttered at the obscenity of it all. As always, your bliss only augments his own, especially at the sight of your essence flowing out of you. He has to drink it all in. Thus, he doesn’t stop, unbothered by the subtle sway of your hips, or the slight tug at his strands. He has no objection to them, on the contrary, he would encourage them if he didn't have to abandon his task to say the words. The slow movements of his tongue create constant stimulation in your already delicate nerves. Your second orgasm crashes you like a clap of thunder, leaves you sobbing and shaking. It uses all the energy in your already spent muscles, wipes every argument from your mind and removes those troubling emotions from your soul. The interesting thing, is that you have no oppositions to the matter. Why would there be? Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Isn’t it better than a dream? You speak the truths, and he worships you. You pay him the respect he deserves, and he tries to honor it in every chance. You don't complete his personality, you enhance it, and in return, he uses everything in his power to make your day better. 

It is not that simple, a voice speaks from the back of your head, but it's too silent to have an importance. 

Likewise, some of his ideas are dismayed just as easily. Pity. He had every intention of taking you from behind, not letting you get away before painting your ass red, and watch you crawl back to him still even when he teased you that badly, but you seem too gone, too weak to lift your hips up. And it is not a big deal anymore, because he's equally excited to have you like this, lying on your back, legs hugging his torso. Like your first time. The parallel is unintentional, but more than welcomed. How much and how little has changed since then? He leans in for a kiss, and fuck, your mouth is greets him too purely, like he's not covered in your slick. There's something more than lust that drives you, evident in the way you move, like you’re carving out a promise on his lips. The sounds that you produce are not in desperation, but gratitude, not weary of the periods of suspense but glad that it is over. His fingers travel the length of your abdomen, all blame on him for the coldness of your skin and the way you shiver. When he circles your nipples with his thumb, you sigh, and press yourself to him. 

“You take care of me like no other, Obi Wan.” You whisper as you cup his cheek. You should’ve told him sooner. It was the least you could do. 

He has no answer, and he doesn’t need one. Holding your wrist at the sides of your head angrily and meeting with your tongue is more than enough of an explanation, just like the one you made a little too late, beautiful controversies. You both are unaware of how your hips rub against each other, without hurry, ‘til his cock catches your entrance. Your breathing becomes erratic, considering you didn’t get a prep or had any in some while, and he’s big. 

“Are you gonna let me in, sweetheart?” 

“I need you.” You almost wail, despite knowing it will be too much. It’s not about pleasing him, either, for these things are not given up as sacrifices, ever. What matters is that you’re together, and that is always good. “Please, I want you.”

Could he ever refuse?

He takes his time, relishing the surrender of your tight walls, and brave noises, replied with his own moans. Your pants are guiding as much as they are troubling, making him even harder. He swears he’s about to burst when you outright sob while he brushes your areolas. Your back raises, an attempt to get his fingers a little higher, and your eyelids flutter close with the movement.

Make no mistake, your face scrunched up in delight is a sight to behold, but he can’t compromise having your eyes closed, sparing him from that glossy, burning gaze you have when he tears you apart. He needs to see them lose all coherent thought, see those doubts fly away and light up with pleasure.

“Look at me, dearest.” Right, aren’t you more than acquainted with his most important wish? He pleads, the softest tone that spilled from his lips tonight. Your heart skips a beat although you’re not exactly capable of processing that information. Needless to say, you don’t oblige to his wish, not when you are so spent. 

Obi Wan groans, his hand flying up to turn your chin. At that moment, all fall silent. You get lost in his stormy eyes, and so does he. Though his cock twitches in your quivering channel, that’s not the point.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He blurts. Then, the other truths demand to be told too.  “I don't like the way they look at you. I don't like how they don't know how blessed they are by your presence. Shit, I hate it when they know it too. I hate to think those who got to memorize you this closely, even those you knew before me.” 

Even those you knew before me. “Obi Wan, you're-” 

“Crazy? I'll admit, I am crazy when it comes to you.” 

“I never-” You have to drown a whimper as he continues his deep, slow strokes, “asked for any of it.”

“Of course, dear. I know, I know it's not you, but them. But I can hardly stop myself from reaching out and pulling you out from their sigh. Or wrap my hands around you, let them see what we share. They wouldn't dare anymore, if they knew the lines you left on my back.” It takes an incredible amount of will not to thrust into you faster, with where his ideas lead him to. “Would you let me mark you from the inside?”

Fuck, why does his words make their way into your heart without ringing those alarm bells you have ready at all times? How does he move past them so easily? 

Or do you let him, and take those rings as a cheery tune of his nearing presence, and not a warning as they must be?

“Yes!” The feeling of him finishing anywhere but in you suddenly sounds so disgusting. You want his warmth, even though you're burning already. 

His lips find yours, kissing you so hard that you'd thought he wanted to silence you. But surely, you know better, that's definitely not the case. You get to drink his sweet moans as his hands envelope you further (like it's possible). In return, he's right there to swallow your gasps, the proof of how you push yourself for him. The rest of the world stops, the urge to fill your lungs no longer necessary, nothing but the rhythm you've created, and clouds you've climbed on. 

He senses your peak before you do and gives you a brief space to breathe, praises falling from his lips that you can't hear, as you shake and let out whimpers, quite loud, for you've grown used to him muffling them. He follows suit, not able to resist your walls clamping down on him, painting your insides with a heavenly moan. 

It takes a second for both of your bearings to return, for the night to evolve into a chilly summer night it was simply meant to be. The coldness is especially remarkable as sweat cools down. A towel wipes them rather quickly, but it's never as warm as having the other around. Your usual remedy, a nightgown, is no use either, even if he helps you put it on. It is such a whiplash that makes you question everything about the last hour. You're left with burning cheeks as he collects your clothes from the floor, hanging them on the divider, then his- but he does the same to them?

“What are you doing?” You croak, a minute of silence for your vocal cords. “I don't cuddle.” That's a harsh sentence, but it's the truth.

“And I don't leave the person I love in the middle of the night to freeze.” He's holding a candle, the only lit candle in the room, and his face is illuminated beyond anything else and it could be said that he is the source of light. 

The person I love. His words break down the last resolve you have, and you're left to figure out how you feel about it as he kills the flame, and slides  into the sheets behind you. You'd think the sensation of his chest pressed to your back would keep you wide awake, but no, it's weirdly new yet familiar, enough to lull to sleep. Also, his scent is mesmerizing, and you never had it this close and constant. 

And for him, he had no trouble whatsoever from the start, but this is far better than expected, that he is sure he is living the best moment of his fate. The softness of you, in his arms, drifting into heavy dreams. It is a treasure for him to see that you can relax beside him, allow him to feel the regularity of breaths, showing your most natural self. 

But the morning is anything like the night.

You wake up from the orange lights of the rising sun, when he gently combs your hair out of your face. There's a fatigue in your muscles, alongside that sweet tinge of pleasure still lingering, making it all bearable. Your skin runs hot where he holds you, your back, your waist, your intertwined legs… The slight prickle of his beard is not pronounced when it's rolling on your shoulder, especially as it's followed by small pecks. He's unable to resist, your intoxicating smell pronounced in the cove of your neck, right under his nose. Only when he feels somewhat satisfied, and you seem a little more conscious, the tonus of your body increasing, he talks. 

You weren't ready for his morning voice.

“Good morning, love.” His hand rises to soothe the redness rising where his chin was pressed. Delicate all over. “I’m afraid I must get going, for both of us’ sake.” 

You give an affirming hum, and swiftly roll out. Your body betrays you without delay, a shiver seizing you, protesting the lack of his heat. You shake your shoulders, not so subtly but it's not like you can cringe. It is your band aid, and you're ripping it out. 

You reach for a robe and put it on rather easily for your questionable nerves and state of mind. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, you should really get going, Obi Wan.” Fuck, that sounds still more aggressive than you are, or you ever intended, a mirror of the storms in your mind. 

“What's the matter?” He's awfully quick to put on his trousers and come near you once again. He looks into your eyes, unobscured by your hair, and then there's that look of reveal on his face, the point of no return. He says your name, a final plead and a warning.

“You must leave soon.” This time, you’re a little softer, but it is nowhere near normal, considering what you shared.

“You think last night was a mistake.” He’s never sounded colder, and you have to focus not to bite your lip. The stern expression on his face is unbecoming of him, but it’s also a great reflection of his fidelity. Now, the other side of the coin shows itself, with his icy eyes and clenched jaw.

“I never-“ said that. Though, is there any possibility of you explaining what you feel? The doubts, the unfamiliarity of these feelings. Could you say, I’m not sure about this thing in between us, without creating the same effect of his claimed words?

There’s a second of silence, as he’s giving you one last chance to speak up. You know, you know that the moment you try, he’s going to break that heartless look, and put his loving hand out.

“For someone who thinks it was a mistake, you don't seem regretful at all.”

“Because it's not, and I don’t!” The confession is for him, but it is hard on you. But that doesn’t mean you’re willing to repeat it. “But it can become one. This has to stop. We can’t go further than this.”

“Why?” He’s trying his best not to raise his voice in this quiet, quiet hour.

“Because this is just- just an infatuation. It will go away. And to remember this time as a good one, we have to be careful, and we’re starting to lose that sense.”

An infatuation. That is the strangest insult he’s ever heard, but the worst nonetheless. An infatuation. The more he repeats the word in his mind, the more his anger grows, with a goal to show you otherwise.

“This is not what happened last night, and you know it.” He was as clear as day, and you honored that likewise. There was no lie. “If this is about you getting pregnant, I swear -”

“No, that's not it.” For once, you show something about the bond you have. “I have no concerns about you, or the whole society, should that happen. I’d even happily move away somewhere nobody knows my name and raise them.” 

Why is that option uttered, when there are far easier choices to make? “You’d rather build a new life than marry me?”

You remain silent once more, owning the coward you are. This is exactly why this wouldn’t work, anyways. He shakes his head, catching himself still thinking of ways to convince you, to work through the problem. He even thinks of walking out of the main door, and running into your father's study, forcing your hand in marriage.

You can see that thought play in his head as his gaze becomes fixated on the door.

"See. That's why.” You beg. “This is just an obsession, and you are maddened with it. You can't see reason, or listen to the sound of it, and I can't watch you make decisions like this. Is this how you actually want to treat me? Blackmail your way into marrying me?”

“So, this is what you think of me.” Blackmail. 

“No, Obi Wan, are you even listening to me?” You cover your face with your hands, a moment to recollect yourself. “Do you know when my next trip is scheduled?” 

Oh. You and your infamous life on the roads. 

“In three days. And do you know I already postponed it once?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we have very different lifestyles, and they are not compatible.”

“Or maybe, you are running from something so long that it has become a habit.”

“I do it because I like it. Because I promised people that I would see them before the end of autumn.” The latter part of your answer is not in your favor, but his, a product of overthinking. You discover that a little too late. He sees it too, along with the fragile curl of your lips, but doesn’t use it against you. Not anymore.

“I wish you a safe trip, then.” That’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to regret your preferences, as he takes a step back, and dresses himself in a blink with perfection. It causes you to feel vulnerable, like his stoic face and impeccable outfit which somehow looks even more put together than yesterday, when he was helped to put it on, paints him like a statue of a Greek god who is putting you on trial.

A trial that you fail.

Yet, by not punishing you, he gives you the worst sentence: Incarceration with your conscience.

#star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi wan smut #obi wan kenobi smut #obi-wan smut #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi fluff

[reorientation]

okay nothing in this world has ever made me flood with need the way seeing my asks linked and tagged as 'respect anon' did. little update - ive been getting railed so often (11 times total now since mid november) that i have a bruised cervix. it hurts in such a delicious way, makes me hyperaware of what i am, almost feels reminiscent of cramps.

my original hookup ive now seen six times, and he wants to see me once a week minimum. the way he murmurs "good girl" so encouragingly to me, his strength, and the insanely erotic feeling of him breeding me, have all bewitched me. the texture of semen exploding into a wet cunt is so unique and im obsessed, its a different consistency from my own wetness, so i can always feel the exact moment hes fucking his sperm into my fertile body, even when i dont feel him throbbing through it (which i usually can).

other than him, ive fucked four other guys in the last month. each and every one of them came in me bare. i hoped a few times would sate me but if anything its fanning the flames. on my neediest day i had three guys come over one after another to fill me, the first was my original guy, and the other two were completely random, and they all treated me so perfectly honestly.

the third one in particular fulfilled my need to have a real man coax me into admitting my real name, he fucked me hard and fast and used his filthy tongue to slip into my subconscious mind and loosen my inhibitions until he got it out of me. then he used it over and over again while he fucked a baby into me, slapped my well-bred pussy till i begged him to stop, then held me so tightly. i felt so dazed and safe and feminine in his arms.

it feels so good to have a man respect me enough to give me what i really need, especially when im being brave enough to ask for something i was so afraid to even acknowledge about myself. and it especially feels good when he looks right into my eyes while pounding me and reminding me of the truth.

fuck sorry for multiple asks i literally just cannot stop thinking about being dubbed 'respect anon' its driving me crazy. i can feel my pulse everywhere, but it seems to pool in the places that make me a woman: my clit, my pussy lips, my aching dripping vagina, and my breasts. i can feel my pulse in my fucking nipples. and also usually my temples but thats off theme.

i cant get over how good it feels to be fucked. i never in a million years expected how endlessly perfect it would be, ive found partners that emanate joy together with me and its so much fun and so erotic. the original guy in particular, just takes so much joy in fixing me and in enjoying my cunt, i often end up watching the filthy reactions on his face as he watches my pussy clench around him. he watches us join together as one, my cunt singing with pleasure, i always ask him if theres anything else i can do for him and he almost always says "lay back and take it." like, yes sir!

once i was riding him and his hands were clenching my hips tight, i love riding because it makes my breasts bounce and heave so deliciously. he was staring at them, i was moaning like a bitch in heat feeling him stretch me out in an angle we dont normally do, and suddenly he looked me in the eye and said "you have a womans body." swear if id been on my back i would have orgasmed right then and there. he sometimes goes back and forth in what gendered terms he uses and it keeps my mind spinning with confusion and desperation. we are both bi and im pretty sure our current dynamic is heaven for us both.

there are so many filthy details i want to share with you. feels like i could babble all day about the things that have happened, but it all boils down to this: im a woman, obsessed with taking cock, finally letting herself enjoy some wonderful company, and it wont be long until im the sluttiest pregnant girl grindr has ever seen, hahahah.

respect anon back with one last thought because ive been obsessively rereading your two responses to me so far. when i begged him to refeminize me, "it doesn't even sound like he was surprised." nope! in fact he laughed at me, he laughed and said "fuuck yes." in that moment, i knew that he had already known, and was waiting to see if id admit it. with him, i have this manic energy where i come off completely insane over text, and his steady energy only serves to wind me up more. i think he knew id cave and beg to be detransitioned, my pics are all pretty high femme and lets just say im not ever subtle about my femininity.

the weird thing is, i only have that manic energy with him. i dont know if its because hes genuinely the hottest guy ive ever met, or because he took my virginity, or because he succeeded in breaking my mind. but the other guys ive slept with, while they blow my mind and show me what im for, i dont make such a fool of myself to them.

genuinely with him i have lost all semblance of self-respect and it proves right everything he has ever whispered into my ear.

(Previously)

All that fun you've been having, going from being a virgin to getting inseminated by five different men within a couple months - and nothing ever made you flood like my tagging system? I'm very flattered, Anon! A bit bemused, but flattered.

So much to speak to here, but one part I truly love is that your new life as a woman started with the first man to use your pussy laughing at you. Like your whole identity as a man had been one long joke you were telling, and you'd finally gotten to the punchline.

That's what real respect looks like for you, isn't it, Anon? A man who'll wait for you to finish telling the joke before he laughs.

And the man who made you tell him your real name while he fucked you full of cum... There's a pleasing symmetry to that. He got something out of you and put something into you. He learned what they called you when you were born, and maybe gave you a baby to call your own.

Which is what you're made for, after all. Your body never stops reminding you of that, whether it's with the pain of a bruised cervix or your blood pulsing in your swollen nipples or the unstoppable pleasure of taking a man's cum in your womb. It's little wonder that you've come so far since getting fucked for the first time, little lady: your body was just waiting for the chance to start.

#I can't respond to all of this without feeling like I'm going on for too long but rest assured that I enjoyed reading every bit <3 #reor: respect anon #kink interactions #reorientation writing #reor: anon ask #ftm misgendering kink #ftm detransition kink #ftm breeding #ftm girl #reor: anon life story

[always-is-always]

Jimin-💜-Jungkook

This IS a LONG share, so have a seat, grab some coffee or tea, and bear with me....

Where to begin is a question... where to begin? My Heart is filled with so much right now that it is hard for my mind to translate it all.

The Heart Knows All.

When they went live the other day with Joonie and Tae, I could sense and feel(emapathically) that Jimin and Jungkookie were already in the energy of "companionship" in regards to the military. It was already in their field. This is in addition to their already established energetic connections that span all other aspects of their lives.

The energetic signature of the military is new and foreign. And, it is also distinct.

In that short time on the live, it was very clear to me that JK & JM would be okay. Everything was in place, energetically. That means that their bond, their commitment to one another to navigate the enlistment together was rock solid. It was palpable. And, there was the love that they share that clearly fuels this for them. However an observer "sees" that Love that flows between their hearts. Love is Love.

So, after watching that Vlive, I felt some peace. My Heart felt more settled, after that. I'm grateful for that peace, as I had been feeling some concern about them. My concern was not about them being bullied or something of that nature. It's been more of a concern about their emotional and mental wellbeing, while facing the challenges of going through the training and beyond.

This is where I get a little wobbly in my words.

I know without a doubt that Jimin and Jungkook will be each other's rocks, for the duration of the enlistment. They will have each other's backs. They will support each other in every way, on every level. That I have total confidence in.

Here is where concern creeps into my heart. Here is where I bear all in my own way, in putting into words what needs to be said.

When I watched the short video of their enlistment day what I saw, felt and sensed in both Jimin-ah and Jungkookie was VULNERABLILITY.

Yeah. Vulnerability.

Yeah.

Something that I had not seen in them, in quite this way. Or, at this level...

That broke my heart.

What we were seeing in both of them is vulnerability. An unease. Like they were stepping out to the precipice, and about to take a huge step off, into the unknown.

Seeing that reminded me that this experience is life-changing, beyond anything that a civilian can understand. Truly. Especially considering their choice of path, to enter the training for front line duty.

{{{A side story here- My bestie is a Veteran. She served in two wars, jumped out of airplanes, gave everything she had to serving the US. We have had many conversations about JK & JM enlisting. Some of what I know and understand comes directly from things that she has shared, her understandings (she's lbgtq), and such. I am not a Veteran, and have not had direct experience in the military.}}}

While watching the livestream waiting for Jimin and Jungkook to arrive, I noticed and felt some things about the military base, and I also realized some things about what JM & JK were stepping into.

.....that livestream was literally 4+ hours long.

As I sat with the volume on, I began to notice a man's voice shouting (it seemed) through a loud speaker (megaphone?), and then voices responding to him. There was a specific cadence to his words, and a specific crescendo in tone and volume, every time he spoke. He would get louder and louder, and the voices that responded would shout out the exact same words every time, and they repeated the response 3 times. What really caught my attention was the voice of a woman that was high-pitched, and louder than all of the others.

I began to listen to this, and after about 5 minutes I began to feel really uncomfortable. That kind of twisting in the solar plexus type of uncomfortable. I wound up turning the volume off, as it was really bothering me, and I began to feel anxious.

After several more minutes, I turned the volume back on and they were still going at it. Call and response. Over and over and over again... The same man shouting out and the same response back to him. That same woman's voice.....

Drill Sergeant. It finally dawned on me that the man was a Drill Sergeant. He was "drilling" instructions into the psyches of those soldiers , and who knows what else.... This type of repetition is designed to mold minds, to instill compliance, and to establish the foundation of training that follows.

That call and response lasted for an hour. They had a break for maybe 30 minutes, then it began again and continued. (It was still going on when JK & JM's vehicles arrived.) That same female voice calling out above the others...

So, my discomfort intensifed as my empathic and intuitive hits just made it hard to bear witness to what was happening. Even with it being something I was hearing and not seeing. So... I turned off the volume again, and then really looked at the base energetically. What dawned on me was the biggest awareness that brought me to tears, and it also sent me into prayer. (not religious prayer, just simply communicating with the Divine, and Benevolent Beings)

(What followed that prayer could be described in another post, but it will never be written. All I can say is that some big work was done, to clear that base of all nefarious energies, and to establish a clear Foundation of Light. To support everyone there.) (a tiny digression here!)

In those moments what I realized, is this: As soldiers they are taught how to take the life of another Human Being. Jimin and Jungkook would be learning this, in a way that also instills a commitment to do it, if they were to ever participate in an armed conflict.

Going back to my Bestie, I spoke with her about this. She said, "yeah, it's totally de-humanizing".

My thoughts then turned to what is and has been happening in this world for thousands of years. How and why we are still in a position on this planet where Human Beings have to be trained and prepared for war is something I just cannot understand. (Again, another rabbit hole!)

Jimin and Jungkook are enlisting because they have NO choice. Just like citizens of all 34 countries on Earth that have mandatory enlistment. This brings one more awareness into this.

There is a stark difference between a person enlisting by choice (like my Bestie), and a person enlisting because they do not have the right to choose otherwise. The experience is beyond difficult either way, but for those who are forced to go into the military it is another level.

Circle back to vulnerability. Circle back to Jimin and Jungkook, and their obvious state of being when they were enlisting. Especially in those last moments when we saw them marching off with the other enlistees.

What we have witnessed is beyond sad. There are no words that can adequately express this. That we live in a time where Human Beings are forced to enter into military service. That we live in a time where Human Beings are still being trained and taught to kill.

And, those beautiful Hearts that are Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook (and the others, too!) have to somehow get through their “training” and “service”, intact and unscathed. They have to make it through, maintaining their Innate Human Essence, and Heart.

Yeah.

All we can do on our end is continually send them clear energies of Love and Support. All we can do is hold Space, while they navigate through each day, each week, each month....

What will help them most is to Love them through this experience. In every moment. See them as being carried by Love and Grace, surrounded by Love and Grace, and held in Love and Grace. Every single moment of every single day.

What they are going to face is something that will impact them in ways that are yet to be known. I am just grateful beyond words that they have each other, to walk side by side, through this experience.

Bless their beautiful Hearts and give them Deep Strength, as they take each step along the way.

June 2025 cannot come soon enough. 💜

#jeon jungkook #park jimin #jk #jm #jungkookie #jiminie #jikook #kookmin #jungkook and jimin enlistment #surround jimin and jungkook with love #why is the world still at war #time for humanity to wake up #is it 2025 yet #conscription is inhumane

[waitimcomingtoo]

hoax ~ p.p

chapter five: stranger danger

series masterlist

“I just found our spring break plans.” Kate announced and slammed a flier down in the middle of the table.

“Barcelona? But this says we have to be in the Spanish club.” MJ said as she read the flier.

“So let’s all unir the Spanish club and go to Barcelona.” Kate said and sat down at the table.

“Sure. I’d be down.” You shrugged.

“Me too. I don’t know if I told you guys this, but I’m fluent in Spanish.” Gwen said proudly.

“No way! Are you also fluent in French and know a little mandarin too?” MJ asked sarcastically.

“Hey, let the girl brag about how many languages she can speak.” You wrapped your arms around Gwen to defend her.

“Thank you.” Gwen replied. “But back to Kate’s idea, it may just be her first good one. We should go.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Ned asked as he joined the table.

“We were just talking about maybe going to Barcelona for spring break. Why don’t you ask Peter and join us?” You informed him.

“Nah. Peter would never go. And I’m not much of a traveler during spring break. I’m more of a sit an home and play video games kinda guy.”

“Why wouldn’t Peter come?” Kate wondered.

“He won’t go anywhere he’d have to fly to. Not since his parents.” Ned replied.

“Well that wasn’t cryptic and ominous at all.” MJ chuckled. “What happened to his parents?”

“They died in a plane crash when we were kids.” Ned explained, making everyone look at each other in surprise. Peter was so quiet that his dark past came as a shock.

“Huh.” You said as you thought came to you. You couldn’t exactly blurt out that your boyfriends parents died in the exact same way, or that you found it difficult to immediately believe that was just a coincidence.

“What?” Kate asked you when she saw how deep in thought you were.

“Nothing. That just reminds me of something.” You said and waved your hand in dismissal. You stayed deep in thought and didn’t even notice when Peter joined the table. When you finally looked up, you saw that he was wearing a shirt that had some science pun on it. You thought back to the night before and the shirt you never actually saw, but knew said something about electrons and staying positive. Peter had been in such a rush this morning after staying out late at the scene of the crime that he just threw on the first shirt he found on his floor.

“Nice shirt.” You smiled at the sight of it and thought about last night. It had been the perfect evening, until he had to go.

“Oh, thanks.” Peter looked down at his shirt and his heart stopped when he realized what it was. He looked up at you to see if you had connected the dots, but you just thought Peter had the same shirt.

“You like science puns now?” Gwen asked when she read Peters shirt.

“No. But my boyfriend has a similar one.” You said with a coy smile.

“Wait, does that mean you saw him out of the suit?” Kate’s eyes widened.

“I did.” You grinned. “Not his face, though. But I saw his arms. And his room. He’s a total nerd. It’s so cute.”

“He definitely sounds like a nerd. A downright loser, actually.” Ned said as he glared at Peter. Peter avoided eye contact with him, knowing he was upset that you still didn’t know the truth.

“His bedsheets had some rocket ship from Star Wars on them. And they smelled like him. I hope they smelled like me when I left.”

“I bet they did.” Peter said. “And I bet he loved that.”

“I’m assuming you know what his bedsheets look like because you finally lost it to him?” Kate asked and shook your arm in excitement.

“No. I think we got close though. But then he had to go do superhero stuff.”

“Were you disappointed?” Kate asked you.

“No. His job comes first. Plus, before he left, we said “I love you” for the first time. So I didn’t mind that we didn’t go all the way. I still had a really good night.”

Ned looked at Peter when he heard this, but Peters eyes were glued to the floor.

“When are you seeing him next?” Gwen asked.

“Not until Friday. He texted me this morning and said he’s gonna be busy the next few days with patrol.”

“Is he now?” Ned asked, sounding unamused.

“Yeah. I don’t know how he finds the time to do it all. He’s just amazing.” You sighed happily.

“Trust me, he’s not that great.” Ned assured you before giving Peter a look.

“Why do you say that?” You frowned and turned to Ned.

“I just think it’s weird he hasn’t revealed his identity to you yet.” Ned shrugged. “You’ve said “I love you” to each other but you don’t even know his name? How does that make sense?”

“It’s for his and my safety.” You said quietly when you noticed that everyone was nodding in agreement.

“Is your safety any less at risk when you walk down the street holding hands with him in his suit? I think it’s about more than just safety at this point. I think there’s a reason he’s not telling you.”

“What kind of reason?” You frowned.

“Maybe he knows that once you know who he is, you won’t think he’s so great.” Ned shrugged, making Peter look up to check your reaction.

“Is that what you guys think?” You asked the girls.

“It is weird that you’re so committed to this relationship when you don’t even know who he is.” MJ admitted. “He could he lying about his age for all we know. I mean, how much do you really know about who he is?”

“I know him.” You insisted. “I just don’t know what he looks like.”

“But don’t you think it’s strange that he can walk by you on the sidewalk and you would never know?” Kate asked, and the girls nodded in agreement.

“Or sat across from you at lunch?” Ned added. You made eye contact with Peter across the table before shaking your head.

“He’ll tell me when he’s ready.” You said simply.

“But why isn’t he ready? It’s been two months. Why doesn’t he trust you enough to tell you yet?” Ned said while never taking his eyes off Peter.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know him like I do.” You shrugged as you got up from the table.

“Wait, don’t leave. We didn’t mean to upset you. We just want to make sure your heart is safe. We care about you. It’s important to us that he does too.”

“I’m not upset. I just need to think. I’ll catch you guys later.” You said and walked away. You went into the hallway and pulled out your phone to text Peter. His phone buzzed and he exchanged a look with Ned before seeing what you had said.

“Can I call you? It’s important.” You had written.

“I’ll be right back.” Peter said and quickly left the table. He picked up the phone when you called and could immediately tell that you were about to cry.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re probably super busy. I just needed to hear your voice.” You said into the phone.

“It’s okay. I’m not busy. What’s wrong?” He asked you, feeling guilty since he already knew exactly what was wrong.

“It’s my friends. They were getting in my head and filling it with doubts. Doubts about us.” You told him. Peter sighed and looked up at the ceiling as he tried to think of what to do. He could see you from where he was in the hallway and wondered if he should just walk right up to you and tell you.

“Peter?” Ned said from behind him.

“I gotta go.” Peter said quickly and hung up the phone.

“Hello?” You asked into the phone, but he was already gone. You frowned and put your phone in your pocket as tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. You ran into the girls bathroom to freshen up while Ned confronted Peter.

“You didn’t tell her.” Ned said in disappointment.

“I was about to. Last night, I swear, I was. And I still will. But the moment passed and I can’t tell her at school. But please, she’s gonna get suspicious if you keeping saying things like that to her. You need to let me handle this.”

“But you’re not handling this. This has gone on way too long.”

“I know.” Peter sighed. “You’re absolutely right. And I feel horrible about lying to her. I’ll tell her when she comes over Friday, okay? I promise.”

“Okay. But if I text her Saturday morning and she doesn’t know, I’m telling her.” Ned warned.

“You won’t have to. She’ll know.”

Come Friday, you had reapplied your lipgloss a dozen times over the course of 20 minutes because you were so anxious for Peter to arrive. You hadn’t spoken much since telling each other that you loved each other, which worried you profusely. You thought your relationship would be taken to the next level after that, but it instead seemed to take a few steps back. But finally, you heard him knocking at your window and threw it open to greet him.

“Are there any damsels in distress in here?” He asked in a transatlantic accent while climbing through your window.

“Hi stranger.” You giggled and wasted no time in lifted up his mask to kiss him. He kissed you back as you stumbled into your bedroom together. You pushed him onto your bed and kissed every inch of uncovered skin before snuggling into his neck.

“I missed you. We haven’t talked a lot lately.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ve just been super busy.” He apologized as he rubbed circles on your back.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize for it. Being a superhero comes first. I just miss walking home with you. And all the other stuff we do together.”

“You’ll have to remind me what “other stuff” we used to do. You know, since it’s been so long.” He smiled cheekily and kissed you again. You made out for a little bit until all the thoughts that had been nagging at you fogged your brain up too much to enjoy the kisses.

“I kinda want to talk to you about something. Something my friends brought up.” You said once you pulled away.

“Sure, honey. I turned my radio off for the night. I’m all yours. We can talk about anything.”

In that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to bring it up. You’d missed him all week and now that he was finally here, you didn’t want to have a heavy conversation. You just wanted to spend some quality time with your boyfriend and not have to get into why he hadn’t told you his identity yet. Partially because you just wanted to have fun tonight, and partially because you worried you might not want to know the answer.

“All mine, you say?” You smiled and kissed him again.

“Uh huh. Did you have any ideas in mind?”

“Remember that time you blindfolded me so I could touch your face?”

“I might remember.”

“Good. I wanna try that again.”

“Okay. And do what?”

Peters question was answered the second he tied the blindfold around you. You climbed into lap and pulled the mask completely off of him, not that you could see anything. Now that you had unlimited access, you were able to run your hands through his curls and feel his eyelashes against your face as he kissed you. You always liked kissing Peter, but it was undeniably better when you could touch his entire face.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I hope you know that.” Peter said between kisses.

“You make me feel like I am.” You smiled against his lips. He ran his hands up and down your back, the feeling of skin to skin after only touching you through his gloves sending lighting across his body.

“Spidey?” You asked and pulled away.

“Yeah?”

“You know I love you, right?” You told him. Peter smiled softly and nodded his head.

“I do know that. And I love you too.”

“Okay. I kinda got nervous that I scared you off by telling you that last time.” You admitted through a nervous laugh.

“Scare me off? How?”

“I just got worried when we didn’t talk much this week. I know you’re busy with patrol but you suddenly felt busier than usual. I kinda thought it had something to do with me. And then my friends totally didn’t help and started filling my head with all these doubts about us. I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure we were okay.”

“We are okay. I promise. You could never scare me off.” Peter assured you as he cupped your face.

“Are you sure?” You asked skeptically.

“I’m sure. Nothing you could do could scare me away because I love you most ardently.” He told you and wished he could be looking into your eyes as he said it.

“So you did watch Pride and Prejudice? After I asked you 500 times?” You laughed and traced the outline of his lips the best you could.

“I did. I’d watch anything you tell me to. Even really boring period pieces about adults who can’t communicate.”

“Boring? How dare you call the most painfully romantic movie boring.” You pretended to be offended.

“If you think about it, it was just a bunch of people going to other peoples houses for two hours.” He pointed out, making you laugh.

“I know. But I still love it.”

“And I love you. So I promise, I’m never going anywhere. I’ll be here until the day you tell me to go away. And even then, I’d probably show up at your door every night and beg for you to take me back.” Peter told you.

“You’d never have to do that. Because I’d never leave you either. I think you just might be the great love of my life.”

“You’ve been watching too maybe romance movies.” Peter teased as he pulled you into his arms to kiss the side of your face.

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic.”

“Well, you have a way of making it all feel a lot less hopeless.” Peter said softly before kissing you.

“I love you so much.” You said between kisses.

“I love you too. And think it’s time I tell you that to your face. Using my…face.” Peter squeezed his eyes shut at his lame choice of words and wished he rehearsed that more. He went to pull to pull your blindfold off but you put your hands on his to stop him.

“I actually don’t want to see your face tonight, if that’s okay.” You said with a timid smile.

“You don’t?”

“It’s just, this moment is special. If I see your face now, this moment ends and we move on from it to the moment of the big reveal. But I don’t want this moment to end yet. I want to stay in it as long as possible.”

“Really? You want to wait?”

“Yeah. The moment I see your face and learn your name is going to be huge for us. That deserves its own special day. But this night is flawless. I’ve had all the excitement I can handle. I don’t want to have two big moments in our relationship at once. I want to savor each of them so I can appreciate them fully. Does that make any sense?”

“It does. You can leave it on, if that’s what you want. But are you sure?” He asked as he stared right at you. His mask was off and it was just him, totally bare, asking you to look at him.

“I’m positive. Like an electron, right?” You said through a yawn and laid down on his chest.

“Yeah. Like my shirt.” He chuckled.

“My friend has the same shirt. It made me think of you.” You told him as you started to drift off.

“That wasn’t your friend. That was me.” He whispered, but you were already asleep.

🖤🕸️🖤

Tag list 🏷️

@miwagila @gidgett11037 @hoetel-manager @deffnotnia

@uncle-eggy @freakofmusic25 @loveleesthings

@katerinaval @tom-hollands-wifey @helen-on-earth

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n

[psych0-str1ngs]

Nikki Sixx x reader- Savior (angst)

Authors Note: I wanted to write for Nikki again, so we're writing a nikki angst. Enjoy and remember that my ask box is open for requests! <3 ;) Also this obviously isn't going to be the exact story of the '87 overdose, but it's kinda close.

Warnings: Cussing, hard drugs, crying, over all sadness, with fluff at the end. If these things trigger you, please don't read it :)

It was late one night, you were with one of your best friends, and crush, Nikki, along with Steve adler, Slash and his girlfriend. You were all drunk, and high. You were sitting on the couch laughing with Slash's girlfriend, While Nikki and Steve were on the floor doing coke. Slash was passed out on another couch.

You zoned out, watching Nikki's face move and contort. You hated to admit it, but Nikki looked totally hot doing coke, even though you knew it was bad. Nikki looked at you and smiled. You blushed and looked back at Slash's girlfriend.

"Hey guys, I'm gonna go outside for a smoke, I'll be back," I got upp off of the couch and stumbled out of the hotel door.

What you didn't know was that, having a smoke in that moment was a horrible idea, the worst ever. You would go on to regret ever leaving that hotel room. Unaware, you continued through the hotel lobby, and on to the cold night. You looked at the sky, immediately the moon reminded you of Nikki.

You often stared up at the sky, imagining living in one of those distant galaxies, with Nikki. He was had such an alien-istic outlook on life, you had never someone who had such wild opinions, but that's what made him interesting. As teens, you and Nikki would sit for hours outside, talking about life, and the moral out codes of being a rockstar, or what you wanted to do with your life. Beyond the musical aspect of life you both shared, you were much alike, sharing many qualities, but also none at all.

You had once again zoned out, the smoke from your cigarette wisting away along with your conscious. You heard sirens, not thinking a thought of it. You looked across the street at the corner store, deciding to grab some more beers. You quickly ran across the street pulling out your wallet. Lines and lines of beers were stacked up on the back wall. You took your pick and payed for it. Walking out the store and seeing an ambulance, as well as seeing Nikki.

You dropped the beer and ran into the street, not even looking if there were any cars. You ran up to Steve, who was standing with his hands on his head.

"What the hell happened?" You yelled. ""What the hell happened?" You yelled.

"He overdosed on heroin." Steve said, sounding extremely scared.

"YOU LET HIM DO FUCKING HEROIN?" I screamed at him, throwing my hands up in the air.

Any last bit of my high was gone, I was completely sobered up. Tears threatened to spill as looked behind me at the white sheet on the gurney. They pulled him into the ambulance.

"Will anyone be coming with him?" The paramedic asked quickly.

"Take my car," I threw my keys at Steve.

I jumped in the the back of the ambulance. The doors closing behind me. I looked at Nikki, who's face was completely relaxed. You sat next to him, the paramedics stood next to the wall of medical things. They were trying everything, shocking him, CPR, anything they though would work. You grabbed his cold hand, and held it in yours. The paramedics yelled at each other. I sat silently.

"Nikki I love you," I whispered. "You can't leave me now."

I knew he didn't hear me, I didn't care. He was far off in a coma, his body threatening cardiac arrest. I moved my hands to my lap, still staring at his face. It was flushed, and almost lifeless. You felt sick, like you were going to puke. The paramedics grabbed the large gurney, and pulled him out of the large truck.

"Stay in the lobby ma'am," The male paramedic said, holding his hand out to help me down.

I quickly walked behind them into the long hospital hallways before I watched them wheel his body away, I trembled, my legs felt like Jello. I walked to a seat, sitting there quietly. The thought of him shooting up replayed through my brain, a deafening ringing was in my ears, but there was no sound. It was an empty waiting room, despite it being a Friday night.

---

You were overwhelmed and anxious, as anyone would be. Sitting in the waiting room, you felt as though your eyes were as dry as a desert, your throat was stinging, as though you had just been screaming for hours on end. You felt a tap on your shoulder, it was Nikki. You looked over, his face staring straight at yours. You screeched before getting up and stumbling back away from him. He had maggots, and other bugs crawling through holes on his lifeless face. Parts of flesh were missing from his body, he looked like he had been dead for years. You stumbled back into another person, turning around, and screaming again, your eyes veered at Nikki, who was standing in front of you. You looked around, all of the seats had been filled with the image of Nikki's cold lifeless body. You ran down the hall in terror, before stopping at a cross way.

He was every where, suddenly, a young Nikki was in front of you. Staring you down like a hawk. His tiny hands wrapped around your throat, screeching at you.

"why did you let this happen to me?!?!?!"

You couldn't breath, not a single bit

---

The tap on your shoulder had woken you up, it was a doctor.

"Are you with the man who had overdosed?" She asked politely.

I looked around confused, I was sitting in the same seat I was before, but this time, the seats around you were filled up with different people, all kinds.

"Y-yes," I stuttered. "Oh god, is he okay?"

"Do you want to see him?" She asked, her hand on my shoulder.

"Yes please," I got up and she walked me to the room he was in.

I looked at him and immediately ran up to him, his eyes looked at me, smiling. I wrapped my arms around him gently, as he was probably feeling horrible. The doctor walked out, shutting the door.

"Nikki you're a fucking idiot!" I said, looking at him. "If you do heroin ever fucking again, I'll kill you myself you fucker."

He laughed before coughing a bit.

"It'll take more than that to kill me, babe," He smiled, still looking a bit pale.

Your hand caressed his face.

"God I'm so happy you're alive." I hugged him again.

"Yeah yeah," His arm slightly raised, he groaned from pain.

"Don't you dare move until they tell you you can," I look at him."

He rebelled, grabbing my hand, and looking me in the eyes, i blushed slightly.

"I heard what you said." He said quietly.

"Oh?" I looked down embarrassed. "I didn't think you would, uhm, I thought you were gone.."

"I love you too, Y/n," He smiled. "Always have, and always will."

"I think you need some sleep hun," I laughed, chopping up what he had said to him just being disoriented.

"I mean it." He tugged your hand lightly. "I love you"

My breath caught in my throat. I leaned down and kissed him, my lips fit perfectly against his. He kissed back immediately. I pulled up a chair after kissing him and sat down, and after 1 million years, Steve, slash and his girlfriend all show up. They walked in, thanking god that Nikki was alive. Steve started to profusely apologize, Nikki told him it was okay, and that he wasn't mad. I was just happy he was okay, and that I finally had him.

And I could finally take care of him the way he deserved to be.

#Nikki Sixx x reader #Nikki Sixx imagine #Nikki Sixx #Nikki Sixx fanfiction #Motley #Motley crue #Motley crue imagine #Motley crue fanfiction

[fandomxpreferences]

Don’t Tell Me You Love Me

After many hours of editing and rewriting, part 2 of the I Won’t Apologize series is hereeee

Pairing: Rooster x Pilot!Reader, Ex!Hangman x Pilot!Reader

TW: angst, mentions of toxic relationship, fluff, swearing, no smut but definitely some spice (who am I), I think that's all, please tell me if I missed any.

Word Count: 2.8k (Part 1) (Part 3)

Summary: Hangman wants to talk to you and he won't take no for an answer. Seeing you again made him realize he has some things to say and you really couldn't care less.

A/N: Um hello Im obsessed with this.As always please leave any feedback and let me know if you'd like more from this little universe bc im kind of falling in love with it.also this gif is totally the vibe between them in this lol

The next morning you and Rooster are getting ready for your first day of training, maneuvering around each other as you each do your respective routines. After eating a quick breakfast and grabbing your energy drinks to go, you're out the door. As Bradley navigates through traffic, getting closer and closer to the base, your anxiety starts rising. 

You're thankful the two of you opted to rent an Airbnb for your month-long stay instead of staying in the barracks. It gives you more time to mentally prepare for the possibilities of what the day could bring. Though you're outwardly feisty, deep down, confrontation makes you nervous. Last night you were suppressing the urge to throw up after every word left your mouth. 

Bradley notices your heavy breathing and looks over to see you gnawing on your lips and bouncing your knee. Both nervous habits of yours. He reaches over and puts his large hand on your thigh, gently squeezing to remind you that you aren't alone this. The warmth and familiar weight brings you out of your thoughts and you smile at him fondly.

Despite all the pain you went through to get here, you'd do it a million times over if it meant you get to experience being loved by this man. This is the type of love that you thought didn't actually exist. The type of love that heals you from the inside out and makes you a better person. 

Before you know it, you're pulling into a parking space and climbing out of the bronco. Rooster holds your hand as you make your way inside, sitting next to each other in the half-full hangar. A few of the other pilots are already lost in conversation and you look around, taking attendance. Jake isn't here yet. 

You're grateful you made it here before him. The idea of having to walk to your seat with his eyes on you makes your skin crawl. At that exact moment, you hear footsteps and see Jake walking towards the group. You turn back around in your seat and glue your eyes to the chalkboard in front. 

The briefing goes smoothly, and you manage not to look at Hangman the entire time. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head and you don't miss the daggers Rooster sends his way every time he catches him staring at you. Captain Mitchell dismisses the group and you stand with Bradley, making your way towards the locker rooms. 

You're laughing with Rooster when you hear boots hitting the ground behind you. You silently pray it isn't who you think it is, and keep walking. "Y/N, wait up."

You groan when you hear the blonde call out after you before stopping and turning around. "What the fuck could you possibly want, Jake?" Your voice is cold and it's clear that this was already more interaction than you want.

His tone is even but you can tell he's nervous. Good. "Can I talk to you for a second?" You roll your eyes, giving him a blank stare. "Talk." He glances between you and Rooster before speaking. "I was hoping we could talk alone."

You feel Bradley tense behind you, and he lets out a loud scoff. "I think the fuck not, Bagman. You've done enough. Anything else you have to say is just going to hurt her more. That's not happening on my watch." He moves slightly in front of you, blocking part of your body from Jake.

"It's fine, babe. You have five minutes, Jake. You can talk but I can't promise I'll listen." You're starting to get pissed off that he won't just let this go. You nod your head towards a door to an empty conference room before walking towards it without another word. 

Bradley follows you and grabs your hand before you can go inside. He leans down and gives you a soft kiss before gently taking your face in his hands. "If he does anything or you're uncomfortable, just call for me. I'll be right here. I love you." God, you love this man. You give him a small smile. "I know." Jake watches the interaction and feels his heart twist. He fucked up.

You walk into the room and before Jake can say anything you whip around to look at him, crossing your arms over your chest. "Was it real? Was any of it real?" You were seething as you snapped in his direction. So much for keeping your cool. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, feeling it start to tremble. 

You hate that you cry when you're angry. All of the hurt and betrayal has boiled away and all that's left is unadulterated rage. You turn away from him, refusing to let him see you cry. 

He considers reaching out to you but thinks better of it. He knows Rooster is right outside the door and he genuinely believes that if you call for him, he'll break both of his hands for touching you.

"Yes." It’s all he can bring himself to say but you aren't satisfied. "Then why did you do it?"

He sighs running his hand through his blonde locks. "You engraved yourself in my heart and it terrified me. I was so in love with you that it hurt. I still am. I kept hurting you and I didn't know how to stop. I was arrogant and selfish." He says it with such conviction it makes you turn around and look at him.

"You don't get to say that to me. You don't get to tell me you still love me. Especially after last night." You bark out, pointing your finger accusingly. You clamp your eyes shut, willing the angry tears not to fall.

"I know. I didn't mean what I said, but it hurt me. Seeing you so happy with somebody else like you belonged with him all along." You open your eyes and look at the ground as you process his words. " I did- I do belong with him." Jake sucks in a sharp breath before talking again.

"Look at me. I need you to see how sincere I am when I say this." You slowly bring your gaze up to meet his.

"You're the love of my life. I will be sorry for the rest of my miserable existence that it took losing you for me to realize that." He blinks quickly and clears his throat. You notice his cheeks are flushed. This man has alot of fucking nerve.

You really want to hate Jake. It would be easier. But Bradley and his goddamn pure soul made you a better person. The old you would have screamed, cussed, and hurt him however you could. But he already pulled you out of character last night and you are determined not to fall back into old behaviors. Jake always had a way of bringing out the worst in you. You take a deep breath to calm down before answering.

"I'm not the love of your life, Jake. One day you'll have that movie type of love that takes your breath away and consumes every cell in your body. Just not with me." You watch as his face falls.

"How do you know?" His voice is small as he stares at his fidgeting hands, cocky demeanor long gone. He looks so boyish. You go to speak but before you say anything he looks up, eyes rimmed with tears. "What if you were it for me?"

You shake your head before reaching up to cup his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, painfully aware this is the last time you'll ever touch him like this. You know he doesnt deserve your gentleness, but you cant help the pain in your heart seeing him so broken.

"I know because I found it with Bradley." You pause and Jake is sure that a serrated blade being twisted in his heart would hurt less than that statement. He opens his eyes to look at you as a tear falls. You wipe it away before retracting your hand. 

"We were always meant to be a lesson to each other. What we had would have destroyed us both, we just didn't want to accept our fate." 

Deep down he knows you're right. Your relationship was chaotic, filled with fighting and hate fucks. You did love each other, but it wasn't a safe love. You just didn’t realize it at the time. It was a lustful and dangerous love. The kind where you were both on fire, and if you weren't careful you would burn each other to the ground. Sure, he had been your shelter from chaos and your rock in hard times. But he was also the cause of the turmoil in the first place. Loving Jake was an endless cycle of hot tempers and slammed doors followed by bruising kisses and discarded clothing. It was hate and euphoria viciously entangled, snaking its way around your throat and threatening to strangle you. He thinks back to one of your last fights. 

He watches you wrench the door open and get out before the truck comes to a complete stop. He slams the gear shift into park and stalks after you. "Don't fucking walk away from me!" You swing the door shut behind you, not caring if it slams in his face. His hand catches it at the last second and he shoves it open, almost putting a hole in the wall with the knob. 

You don't bother looking back, too busy discarding your shoes before stomping off toward the bedroom. By the time he catches up to you, you're angrily taking off your jewelry in front of the vanity. Your back is to him but he catches your eyes in the mirror. Your pupils are blown wide, no doubt a symptom of the ugly storm brewing behind them.

He'd never admit it but he picks fights sometimes just because he thinks you look pretty when you get angry. Your eyes hold a fire in them and your chest heaves as you take labored breaths. It was a downright sinful sight. 

You're the first to speak, turning around to look at him. "Tonight was embarrassing, Jake. You acted like a dog marking its territory!" You're yelling, and you think you're going to explode when you see him roll his eyes.

"Oh, please. Don't act like you didn't notice that asshole flirting with you. He was eye fucking you all night! And you were entertaining it!" You don't miss the way the vein in his neck pops when he yells and you briefly imagine dragging your tongue along it before re-focusing.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Seresin? We made small talk for like 30 seconds before I came right back and sat on your lap!" He fucking hates when you refer to him by his last name. His jaw clenches as he stares you down. The irony of the situation isn't lost on him. He knows he has no right to be jealous when he's been double-dipping his dick for months. He just doesn't care.

He takes long strides before stopping in front of you. He boxes you in with his arms and leans down until you can feel his breath fan across your face. He smirks when he hears your breath hitch involuntarily. 

His voice is raspy when he asks, "Did you want him to fuck you? Did you think about what it would feel like to have another man inside of tight little pussy of yours?" He isn't even mad anymore, now he just wants to provoke you. His dick twitches as he thinks about how this night would inevitably end. 

This time it's your turn to roll your eyes. "Jesus Christ, Jake. How jealous can you be? I'm allowed to talk to another man, you don't own me." You scoff. 

He presses his body into you and ghosts his lips against yours. His voice is dangerously low and he chuckles. "Oh, I think I do sweetheart." 

All bets are off as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your lips crash together, tongues fighting for dominance. You feel his hand tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck and pull your head backward. His lips trail down your jaw to your now exposed throat. He wastes no time finding your sweet spot, sucking a dark bruise there.

Round and round you go.

He has to stop his train of thought, as he's fairly certain rocking a semi right now isn't going to help the situation. He nods his head, swallowing hard. "I just wish it hadn't ended the way it did." You look away, releasing a long breath."There's always a silver lining. If you hadn't fucked up, I wouldn't have fallen in love with Bradley. So I suppose I owe you a thank you for that."

He smiles, but it comes out more of a grimace. He hadn't thought of it that way, and he hates that he's to blame for his own personal nightmare becoming a reality. 

“What were you expecting from this? Did you think I’d fall back in your arms and uproot my life with Bradley just because you want me to?” You question. You listen as he stutters. “No, I-I just wanted you to know I’m sorry.”

You take a long pause, choosing your next words carefully. You don't hate Jake anymore. But you don’t forgive him either. You dont know that you can. "Sorry doesnt just fix everything, Jake. I’m sure you were hoping for some kind of relief from your guilt, but you’re not getting it from me."

His eyes shut and he struggles to hold back tears. "Losing you hurt like hell, Y/N." The next words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. "Good. You have no one to blame but yourself."

That stung, but he knows he deserves it.He continues, "But I’d rather you hate me than be apathetic. Hate means you still care." You stare at him, noticing him shrink under your gaze. 

"I dont hate you, Jake. I pity you." You know its mean but its the truth. "I'm not sure if you were wanting to leave this room as friends or old lovers, or what but it’s not happening." He can choke on his guilt. He nods and stares at the ground. 

"I dont want any bad blood, I need to know I can trust you in the sky. Is that going to be an issue?" He notices your shift and tone in demeanor. It’s strictly professional. He shakes his head softly. "No."

You give a curt nod. "Good. I’ll see you out there Liuetenant." It was always offputting to Jake how easily you could switch off your emotions and compartmentalize. He sits down and drops his head into his hands as tears fall off his face. He fucked up.

You open the door and hear a thud followed by "Fuck. Shit, that hurt." You poke your head around the door to see Bradley rubbing the side of his head. You quirk an eyebrow when he notices you looking at him. 

"Were you trying to listen through the door?" You quip with a smile. He shrugs and you notice his cheeks flush. "Maybe." You laugh and move your body until it's fully in front of him. "You're so nosy." You tease while sticking your tongue out at him. 

He knocks your shoulders together as you start walking towards the showers again. You were both up next for the training exercise. "I was worried. How did it go? Are you okay?" He stops and turns to you, searching your eyes for any sign of distress. 

He doesnt tell you that he heard the entire exchange, deciding to let you disclose what you feel comfortable with. He almost bust down the door to strangle Jake when he heard him say he still loves you. But he knows this is your bridge to cross, and he's damn proud of how you stood your ground. 

"I'm fine Roos. I don't know what he was expecting, but I'm sure it's not what he got." You confide while starting forward again. "Good. I was worried I'd have to kill him." You chuckle and look over at his face, seeing he was dead serious. 

You come to a stop outside the locker rooms and turn to him. You launch yourself forward and wrap your arms around his neck, inhaling his cologne. He instantly pulls you into him, leaning down to nuzzle his face in your hair. You stay like this for a minute before letting out a muffled "I love you".

He reluctantly pulls back and kisses the top of your head. "Why don't we stay in and get take out tonight? You can fill me in on what went down in there and then I can take your mind off it." He suggests, wagging his eyebrows. 

You let out a cackle at the gesture before agreeing. "That sounds like a good plan, Brad Brad." He groans at the nickname and you dart into the showers with a loud laugh before he can grab you. " See you up there!" You call out, ignoring the "You're gonna pay for that later!" He shouts after you. If only he knew that's exactly what you want. 

#hangman angst #hangman imagine #hangman top gun #hangman #hangman x reader #jake seresin #Jake seresin imagine #jake seresin top gun #jake seresin angst #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #Bradley Bradshaw topgun #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun angst

[yellowhollyhock]

Nightwatcher and Ghost of the Jungle would've been such a cool team-up though. Nightwatcher, in the city that never sleeps--describes his shift, literally like "I'll be in this place at this time come get me if you've got the guts." The whole point is to be so intimidating people afraid to try crime so that there's less for just one turtle to do (that's what he and Don were arguing about, I have normal feelings about this). Then, the Ghost of the Jungle-- vague, whimsical even, says I am Part of Nature and I will always Find those who need me. Giving 'no one sees my face and lives' vibes. Intimidation through mystery instead of sheer straightforward power.

They would have worked so well together. I kinda wish Raph hadn't hung the helmet up at the end of the movie. I mean, I get it. It was an identity that was always going to be connected to Leo's absence, and he thought his brother was gonna die because of him so that would be pretty traumatic. But just. Think of the shenanigans. And how well they would understand each other.

And also how different Nightwatcher and Ghost are to Cowabunga Carl and Just Donnie, Your Friendly IT Tech Support (not your enemy) (long suffering sigh).

Mikey parallels Raph in how he's using visibility as stealth. He's disguised as a giant turtle so no one will suspect he is actually a giant turtle. Pretty mich the exact same strategy but opposite; instead of trying to be intimidating, he's made himself friend-shaped. And that! Doesn't work at all! :D (do you think it was Donnie's idea. do you think Mikey was waiting to be asked about what he'd do if he was human. do you think the two of them talked late into the morning about what direction their lives could possibly take now that they aren't a team of ninjas, with Leo being gone and Splinter pausing patrol. do you think they hoped getting jobs focused on helping others would earn them some degree of acceptance, even if it'd be fragile and conditional. do you think Raph spat at their feet for trying to make themselves feel human, accused them of being ashamed of what they are, and maybe he wasn't totally wrong)

Leo and Donnie have interesting parallels too. I'm here to help, but you come to me and you can't see my face. These are the conditions, now I'm a tool in your hands, use me till I'm blunt. or something. Themes of selflessness but for Leo it's detachment from all he knows and loves, while Donnie is planted at home so that everyone else can branch out.

Mikey and Donnie both hate what they're doing. Or at least they're exhausted from doing too much of it. But. They help each other. Donnie set up Mikey's van so it would be as easy as possible for him to have some independence while still being button clicks away from help if he ever needs it. You know with the hours Don's pulling that Mikey is the one reminding him to eat, sleep, etc. Even though they're exhausted they fall asleep on the couch watching movies together instead of going to their beds.

Meanwhile Raph and Leo are the same and they're finding their callings. They're growing into their own identities as individual Ninjas. They were the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; now they're their own brand of Cryptids. Really growing into themselves. It's beautiful and probably exactly what Splinter intended Leo's training period to be for. But. They're both alone. And that self-isolation is now linked with that growing up journey, for both of them. I'm sure this will not have any repercussions (yes it will). They can easily slip back into working as a team, the horror of almost losing Leo surely fixed all underlying issues (no it didn't).

Anyways what if Leo talked Raph into taking the mantle back up. What if the two of them start a habit of sneaking out since they can't seem to get back in on the bond Mikey and Donnie formed while they were both absent. What if this also causes more problems even as it smooths over some. And plus also too what if it's super cool because Nightwatcher and Ghost y'all

#tmnt #tmnt 2007 #who let me have a tumblr i can just come on here and post whatever. like whenever i want #seems like too much power #2007 raph #2007 leo #2007 mikey #2007 donnie #nightwatcher #ghost of the jungle #cowabunga carl #donnie really needs a nifty little moniker

[themaladaptivewriter12]

Title: Break

Part 6 of my “Cray-Cray for Cater” series! Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, and Part 5 can be found here!

Parings: Cater Diamond x Twisted Wonderland Male OC (Mirai Yuhara)

Summary:

With fall break finally here, Mirai is once again reminded of his place within this world. But maybe, just maybe, it won't be that bad after all?

cw: Kinda spicy? Nothing explicit but I wanna just throw that out there. Biting, love bites, heavy kissing, literal sleeping together. Let me know if the rating should change.

a/n: I don't hate Cater's family, but I'm going for this medium between them trying to fix their behavior towards each other, but it's like, not enough. They are such a grey area for us, yet so impactful on Cater's character.

Reblogs are appreciated, just use my custom tag, #TheMaladaptiveWriter12, if you do!  (─‿‿─)♡

Cross posted from my Ao3: TheMaladaptiveWriter12

It was fall break at Night Raven College and because of that, everyone was going home for a week. Mirai was kinda bummed about that, not that he really missed home that much, but things like that really made him remember how much of an outsider he really was, how much he didn’t belong there at Night Raven College. He didn’t have a place to call his own. No house to go back to, no friends, no family, absolutely nothing. All he had was Ramshackle, but even that was superficial. He could lose it all at the very whim of their oh so “benevolent” Headmage, or when he eventually had to “graduate” from Night Raven College. Then where would he be? He couldn’t stay here forever. He’d be way too old to even live on campus, it would be just plain weird, and worse case scenario, he’d have to stay there forever and become the college campus legend. “Student of Night Raven College that never left” they’d say. He’d eventually grow old and die in the Ramshackle Dorm and become one of the ghosts, haunting the Dorm forevermore. Okay, maybe that was a stretch, but Mirai was too deep in his head to use common sense. 

And if he did leave, where would he be able to go? Where would he live? How would he even survive in a world totally different from his own? Just the very thought of that was beginning to stress Mirai out as he wandered the dorm, alone. Even Grim left, not even telling Mirai where he was going, Mirai just hoped that the little monster cat didn’t stay out too late. Grim came in and out as he pleased, getting food, and going to sleep where he saw fit, but then he was out again. And when Mirai asked what he was up to, he wouldn’t say. All he said was that he was on a “mission to greaten his magic prowess,” whatever that meant. Mirai couldn’t phantom what the cat was up to, but he hoped he wasn’t getting into any trouble, that was the last thing Mirai needed.

Mirai sighed to himself as he made his way back to the lounge. He had cleaned thoroughly, washing the bed linen, washing his clothes, dusting, sweeping, mopping, and he even maintained the outside of the dorm for once. He cut the grass, weeded the garden, and watered the plants. He washed the windows, cleaned the rain gutters, swept the stairs, raked the leaves, and even maintained the gargoyles exactly how Malleus taught him to do. Of course all of that took a while to complete, three days to be exact, but he still had about a week of loneliness to go. 

If this had been a few months ago, this loneliness wouldn’t have bothered him one bit. He’d be back in America, working from sunup to sundown, eating takeout, catching a late night showing on tv before going to sleep, wherever that was, and then repeating the dull, life draining process in the morning. A few months ago he wouldn’t have missed the hustle and bustle of the college, he wouldn’t had missed Ace and Deuce’s bickering, Riddle’s rule enforcing rampages, Azul’s food at Mostro Lounge, Ruggie’s snickering as he messed with Leona, Kalim’s joyous attitude, Rook’s dramatic way of speaking, Ortho’s childlike wonder, and or Malleus’ random visits. Of course he wouldn’t have missed any of this a few months ago, he wouldn’t have known any better, but now? It was a heavy cloud over his head, and a heavy weight on his shoulders and heart. 

And mostly, Mirai missed Cater. He missed Cater’s Magicam photoshoots, Cater’s playful demeanor, and their late night talks. He missed Cater’s hugs, his kisses, the doting nature Cater had when it came to him, he missed everything about Cater. Mirai was berating himself for acting like a lovesick puppy. He could handle not being with his boyfriend for more than two days, but Mirai supposed it was due to the fact he knew that the redhead wouldn’t be back for another seven days. 

Mirai grumbled around his leftover spaghetti, sighing as he checked his phone for any messages from his friends, there were none. Cater had promised to call him to check up on him, all of the guys did, knowing his situation, but not one of them did, well, not yet at least. And Mirai really didn’t want to call them, he didn’t want to be a bother while they all were trying to enjoy their break with their families, and especially not just for something trivial as small talk. But Mirai couldn’t help but feel sad and angry. Sad and angry that the guys had forgotten about him, but also sad and angry at himself for even feeling that way. He felt clingy, and he suspected that it was because he knew, in reality, that he truly was alone. Mirai sighed again as he checked Cater’s Magicam page. Cater hadn’t even posted, which surprised Mirai. Cater posted about everything, no matter how small it was. He was hoping to see a little more of his boyfriend’s life, and if not, then just hear his voice through a post or see a more recent picture of his face. 

Mirai got up from the kitchen table and put his bowl in the sink, not even bothering to clean it like he usually did, but he did have half the mind to rinse it first. Dragging his feet as he shut off all the lights, Mirai made his way upstairs for the night. A depressing mood hung over him like a fog as he showered, brushed his teeth, and changed into his pajamas, taking off his prosthetic, and by the time Mirai was plugging in his phone and crawling into bed, he was biting his lip, trying to stop the tears that threatened to fall. Mirai threw himself into his pillow, pulling his blanket over himself as sobs escaped his lips, chest heaving. He was lonely and he hated it, hated being so weak and clingy, hated the fact that he felt like this and he couldn’t fix it. He wanted a hug, he wanted someone to talk to, he wanted Cater. 

Mirai didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, but woke up to his phone blaring on his bedside table. His pillow was wet, a huge dark spot where his head lay, his eyes stung, burning from crying before he fell asleep, and his eyelids lids stuck together from his dried tears. Mirai wiped his eyes, reaching for his phone. The time read three in the morning, it was nowhere near the time for him to get up. So why was his phone going off? Mirai checked his notifications, heart skipping as he read that he had three missed calls from Cater, one not even five minutes ago. Why would Cater be calling him so late? Maybe there was a time difference between the Shaftlands and Night Raven College? But even still, Cater should know that, so why would he call so late into the night? Mirai was debating if he should call back or just wait until the morning when his phone rang again. Mirai quickly swiped right, putting the phone to his ear, answering.

“Hello?” Mirai called, flinching at how raspy his voice sounded from crying and sleep.

“Hey Mi-Mi,” Cater greeted, sounding guilty, “I woke you up, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay,” Mirai reassured, clearing his throat a little, “I don’t mind.”

He really didn’t. Mirai couldn’t describe the relief he felt just from hearing Cater’s voice. He’d wake up any day at any time to talk to Cater. He was so happy that he almost wanted to cry again, but he refused, his eyes already burning from earlier.

“S-So what’s up?” Cater asked, “How’s your break been?”

Cater was being weird, but Mirai ignored it for now, going along with what Cater was trying to hide. “I did a whole bunch of cleaning,” Mirai sighed into the phone, “My body hurts so bad, I might as well have been taking supplementary lessons from Coach Vargas.”

Cater chuckled, his laugh sound too stressed, too dry to be truly genuine, “You poor thing. You should be relaxing, not working yourself so hard. We’re on break after all.”

“Might as well get it out the way now rather than later. But now I have the whole week to relax.”

“That’s good. Don’t work yourself too hard, ‘kay?”

“Mn,” Mirai hummed.

There was silence, neither of them saying anything for a long while.

“So,” Mirai started, “Is there like a time difference between here and the Shaftlands? ‘Cus it’s three in the morning.”

“O-Oh, yeah. A little,” Cater stuttered, “I must be ruining your sleep. I-I’ll, I’ll call you later, yeah?”

“Cater?”

“‘Sup?”

“What’s wrong?” Mirai asked, done pretending that he didn’t notice his boyfriend's mood.

“I-I-I don’t, I’m not, I-”

“Cater? What’s wrong?” Mirai asked firmly.

“I’m, I’m outside,” Cater whispered. 

“What?!”

Mirai dropped his phone, rushing out of bed, not caring that he was only in one of Cater’s shirts and a pair of cotton boxers. Mirai twisted the lock and ripped the door open, looking around until his green eyes finally found Cater’s curled form sitting next to the door. Cater looked up from where his phone was on the ground next to him, eyes meeting Mirai’s as he forced a smile.

“Cater,” Marai gasped.

“H-Hey, Babe,” Cater stuttered.

“C’mere,” Mirai breathed, “C’mere.”

Cater staggered as he got up, ending the call and pocketing his phone to grab his luggage. Mirai let Cater in, and just as he shut the door, twisting the lock back in place, Cater was pulling the Ramshackle Prefect into his arms, squeezing him in a desperate embrace. 

“Oh Cater, you’re cold,” Mirai sighed softly. 

“I-I’m fine,” Cater whispered, shivering, voice sounding broken. 

“Come sit, come sit.”

Mirai pulled Cater to the lounge, turning on one of the lamps and he sat Cater down. As Mirai pulled away, Cater grabbed his wrist in a desperate attempt to keep him close.

“Please don’t go,” Cater begged, “Please.”

Mirai got a good look at Cater and his heart shattered. His usual cheerful face was sullen, dark bags under red rimmed eyes that were void of their usual brightness. His smile was replaced with a deep frown, he looked miserable.

“C’mon,” Mirai said, forgoing his thoughts on tea. Clearly it wasn’t what Cater needed at the moment.

Cater grabbed his things, shutting off the lights, following Mirai up to his room.

“Make yourself at home,” Mirai said, turning on the heat.

Cater nodded, grabbing some clothes to change into and entered the bathroom. Mirai waited, nervous energy building up inside him. He had so many questions, but knew he had to take everything slowly, one step at a time, lest he wanted to overwhelm Cater, who already looked to be on the verge of a breakdown. Cater excited the bathroom, clad in his pajamas. He looked nervous like he didn’t know what to do with himself, teetering back and forth on his feet. 

“Come sit,” Mirai beckoned.

Cater stuffed his clothes away and sat on the bed. He didn’t say anything, he just stared into the dim corner of the room like it held all the world's answers. Mirai didn’t know what to do, what to say, but he was gonna try.

“Hey,” Mirai said softly, sitting on the bed next to Cater, “We can do whatever you want to do.”

Cater nodded slowly, still not looking Mirai’s way.

They sat shoulder to shoulder, and Mirai grabbed Cater’s hand, lacing their fingers together. He wanted to give Cater a chance to speak, to say anything. Even if it was one of the stupidest things Mirai would ever hear in his life, he would wait. But when their silence dragged on too long, Mirai knew he had to take it step by step. 

“Do you wanna talk now, or sleep?” Mirai asked after some time.

“Sleep,” Cater croaked out, “please.”

“Okay, we can do that.”

Mirai crawled up to the top of the bed, flipping his tear stained pillow over, and pulled back the cover to let him in. Cater crawled up next to him and scooted under the covers, pulling them over himself. Mirai scooted closer, slowly wrapping his arm around the older male, giving him a chance to pull back if he wanted to. He didn’t. Cater accepted the cuddle, pulling Mirai closer, pressing his face into Mirai’s chest. 

“Sweet dreams, Cater,” Mirai whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Cater’s head. 

Cater didn’t respond as he pressed himself further into Mirai’s embrace.

Mirai woke up, the sun blaring through the curtains of his floor to ceiling windows. Mirai groaned, hiding his face into his pillow, but instead, his nose was filled with ticklish strands of orange hair. Mirai reeled back, nose tingling with a sneeze. Once the tingling stopped, Mirai looked down, and giggled. Sometime that night, Mirai and Cater rolled over, and now Cater was hugging a pillow as Mirai held him. Mirai found the sight amusing. But then again, there was something about holding Cater like this that made Mirai’s heart warm. Mirai wanted to be someone Cater could lean on when he needed to, and as sappy as it sounded, he sometimes wanted to protect the older male from the harshness of the world, taking the damage for him like a shield. He knew he really couldn’t do that, since everyone had their own wars to fight, but that also didn’t mean either of them didn’t have to do so alone. So just holding Cater like this was enough.

Mirai reached up and pulled Cater’s hair out of his face and behind his ear, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of his head. Mirai would lie here as long as he had until Cater woke, he didn’t mind one bit. Mirai began carding his fingers through Cater’s hair softly, pulling thick orange strands back against his head, blunt fingernails scratching at his scalp. 

“Mn, that feels good,” Cater sighed, voice raspy from sleep.

Mirai chuckled, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.”

There was silence after that, and both of them didn’t know how to break it. Mirai tried to peer over at Cater’s face, but he couldn’t, not without jostling them from their comfortable position.

“You hungry?” Mirai asked after some time.

“Mn.”

“How about you go shower and I go make breakfast? How do omelets and pancakes sound?” Mirai asked.

Cater just nodded, yawning into his pillow. 

“Okay.”

Mirai scooted backwards, releasing Cater from his embrace, and Cater immediately turned around, chasing after the Ramshackle Prefect. Mirai entered the bathroom to brush his teeth, and Cater followed doing the same, the both of them standing shoulder to shoulder. They both looked a mess. Their eyes were tired and puffy, lined with sleep, their faces were red, marked from their pillows, and their hair tangled and all over the place. Mirai laughed, trying not to spit toothpaste on the mirror as they fought for sink space. Cater nudged him with his elbow and Mirai nudged him back. Cater chuckled around his toothbrush, bumping Mirai back with his shoulder. They were being childish, they both knew, but they didn’t care, the mood definitely better than last night. 

Mirai washed his face, scrubbing at his skin, ridding himself of the night's filth. Mirai blindly reached for his towel, drying his face, and when he checked his appearance in the mirror, looking for any residue soap, he caught Cater’s reflection. He was standing behind him in nothing but his black cotton boxers as he turned on the shower faucet. Mirai’s green eyes raked over Cater’s lean body, his thin waist, his smooth skin, his soft muscle. Mirai looked up and over his shoulders, to his neck, and face, where he met Cater’s green eyes staring back at him, a knowing smirk on his lips. 

“Naughty little Mi-Mi,” Cater teased, walking over to Mirai, “checking me out like that.”

“I mean,” Mirai said with smug thoughtfulness, “the view is nice.”

Cater chuckled, the sound echoing off the tile of the bathroom, “Yeah? And what was Mi-Mi thinking about when he was looking at little ol’ me?”

“Secret.”

“You’re a dirty little thing,” Cater sang, smacking Mirai on the rear.

Mirai gasped, face flushed with a pout. He supposed he deserved it, for he was unabashedly staring at his boyfriends semi naked form.

“Don’t pout, Babe,” Cater cooed, wrapping his arms around Mirai, voice dropping to a sultry octave, “or I may have to bite those pretty little lips of yours.”

Mirai flushed even more, if that was even possible, face hot as he gasped at their close proximity, and Cater’s state of undress. 

“Sh-Shower! Shower,” Mirai commanded, shoving Cater towards the tub.

Cater laughed, throwing his head back, “Mi-Mi’s embarrassed! #Cute!”

Mirai pouted, flicking Cater on the shoulder blade.

“Ow,” Cater complained playfully, “Okay, okay, I’m going.”

“You do that, you dummy,” Mirai huffed, marching out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

Mirai busied himself with putting on his prosthetic, changing the bed linen, and putting on some pants, as he waited for the flush on his cheeks to die down. After he finished, Mirai made his way to find Grim. He was asleep in the lounge.

“You want food, Grim?” Mirai asked.

Grim instantly woke up, little pink tongue darting out to lick at his lips. “Yeah, what are we having?”

“Pancakes and omelets.”

“Oh, add bacon to mine!”

“Alright,” Mirai chuckled. “Go wash up, yeah?”

“Don’t wanna,” Grim pouted petulantly. 

Mirai gave Grim a look, a look that said ‘you get nothing if you don’t wash up,’ and Grim deflated, grumbling as he made his way upstairs. 

Mirai was on his fifth omelet when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around his waist.

“That looks good,” Cater muttered, kissing the back of Mirai’s head.

“Thanks,” Mirai said, his free hand coming up to hold Cater’s.

They stood in their embrace, Cater humming occasionally as he began to rock back and forth, moving the Prefect with him. Cater was warm from his shower, skin and hair still a little damp.  

“Could you set the table? The pancakes and the hashbrowns are already done.”

“Mh hm.”

Cater set the table, placing the decent sized stack of pancakes in the middle of the table along with two cups, a bottle of orange juice and a stack of napkins. By the time Cater was done, placing down the last fork, Mirai was done with the last Omelet, plating it on the empty plate. 

“Here,” Mirai said, placing the plate in front of the seat Cater was standing behind. 

“TYSM,” Cater smiled, sitting down. 

“Grim,” Mirai called, “Breakfast!”

Little thumps were heard, and soon, Grim was scurrying into the kitchen. “Thanks, Hench-human,” Grim said, taking his plate.

And as soon as he was in, he was out again.

“Where’s he going?” Cater chuckled.

“To his room,” Mirai said. “He has been up to something recently, and has holed himself up in his room. I don’t care as long as he cleans up, and doesn’t cause me any trouble.”

“Oh.”

Cater and Mirai served themselves. Mirai took a couple of pancakes, adding a load of butter and syrup. Cater on the other hand opted to just eat his omelet with some bacon and the hashbrowns Mirai had made. As they ate, they chatted about everything, school, tv shows, the weather, anything to fill the silence. But as they did, Mirai knew that they really needed to talk about what had happened last night. Mirai had so many questions, like why and how Cater ended up on his doorstep, how long had he been sitting there, why had he looked like he had been crying? But he wanted to give Cater time and the chance to eat before he brought the topic up again. And Mirai had noticed another thing, Cater hadn’t picked up his phone since they woke up. It wasn’t even on his person, it was upstairs somewhere. Cater never wasn’t without his phone, he was almost always either posting on his Magicam or checking his feed. There was never a moment Cater wasn’t seen without it.

As they finished their food, Cater began to fidget in his seat, a guilty countenance set upon his face. Mirai felt bad, he knew that Cater knew that they were gonna have to have that conversation, and he hated the fact that he was the one that was causing it. Mirai got up, washing his dishes and everything he used to cook with, and Cater joined his side not long after.

“Wanna go back upstairs, or do you wanna stay down here?” Mirai asked, taking off his rubber gloves. 

“Upstairs,” Cater answered.

Back in his room, Mirai crawled atop the bed, sitting up against the headboard, reaching a hand out. Cater crawled in after him, situating himself in Mirai’s arms for a cuddle.

“Wanna talk about last night?” Mirai finally asked with a sigh, not wanting to upset Cater anymore than what he was now.

“I really don’t want to, but I know it’s better that I do,” Cater sighed.

“I’m not forcing you,” Mirai soothed, rubbing Cater’s back. “I’m just concerned.”

“I know. That’s why it’s better if I explain.”

“Okay.”

Cater sighed, burying his face into Mirai’s shirt, hands clutching at the fabric on Mirai’s back. “I got in a fight with my mother.”

Mirai didn’t say anything, but he held Cater tighter in reassurance.

“I normally don’t go home for break, making excuses on why I can’t make it, why I can’t spend it with them, and then I go and spend it with Trey. But I didn’t want to overstay my welcome, so I decided to go home, since I haven’t been in a while.”

Mirai hummed to let Cater know he was listening.

“When I got home, my mother wasn’t happy. She started yelling at me about how I was never home, and that I should’ve never left for school like my father had urged me to, if I wasn't gonna come home. I mean, I deserve that one, but I don’t miss home at all. And of course my sisters had all kinds of things they wanted me to wear, and all kinds of sweets they wanted me to try. And I couldn’t say no, I’m not allowed to,” Cater rasped, voice was straining as he spoke, trying not to cry as he retold what had happened. “It all became all too overstimulating too fast. I wanted to tear apart all the frilly and lacy outfits my sisters made me wear for them, because my clothes were “so not cute.” I wanted to shout back at my mother as she picked apart my wardrobe, as she berated me for my grades, for the way I spoke, for the way my hair was styled, for what I was posting on my Magicam.”

“Cater,” Mirai breathed, holding the older male’s shaking form even tighter.

“I wanted to throw up with the amount of cake I was forced to eat, all the cookies I wished I could change the flavor of, and I did, I forced myself to, and I did,” Cater admitted, hiccuping a sob into Mirai’s shirt.

Mirai felt horrible. While he was here, upsetting himself over something small, petty even, for missing his boyfriend, wallowing in self pity, Cater was suffering, fighting his own wars on his own home front. Mirai felt choked up, tears threatening to fall as Cater spoke. 

“I miss, I miss my father,” Cater cried, “He, He never made me do anything, b-but he’s never home. I-I mean, it was never a better situation, and I-I know they’re trying, b-but what’s it matter if, if they never truly ask what I want? A-And last night, my sisters found out that you were my boyfriend.”

Cater was now crying, tears soaking Mirai’s shirt, chest heaving from his sobbing, and Mirai was crying tears of his own as he rubbed Cater’s back, trying to sooth his boyfriend. 

“We somehow g-got on the topic of partners and marriage. My sisters wanted t-to hook me up with one of their friend’s li-little sisters, when I told them I was seeing someone. They asked why I c-couldn’t be with someone c-cuter, s-someone like Vil Schoenheit, someone w-who wasn’t so ugly, so, so hideous,” Cater stuttered, as he cried, his voice taking an angered tone. “I was so angry with t-them that I screamed at them, I screamed at m-my sisters, at my own mother. They don’t know you! They don’t know you like I do, so how could t-they say such things?! And, and the thing is, they do. They always do and they always did. And, and b-before I knew it, I-I was storming out of the house with my things in hand.”

Cater gasped a breath before continuing, “I didn’t know where to go, I didn’t have anywhere to go. But then I remembered that you were still here, so I came back here. And by the time I got here it was so late, and I really didn’t want to wake you. But I didn’t know what else to do so I called, hoping you’d wake up, and you did, I’m so glad you did.”

Cater sat up, his form looming over Mirai’s as he grabbed the Prefect’s wet and blotchy face between his hands. 

“Cater?” Mirai called, voice quivering with tears.

Cater didn’t know what these feelings were, but he wanted to try. Cater Diamond didn’t fall in love, everyone fell in love with him. He was never one for long lasting relationships, never one for sappy words that came from the heart. He just liked to play his cards right with the next pretty face, and when they broke it off, he found someone else. But Mirai was different, so much different, and he didn’t want to miss his chance. Before Cater could stop them, the words he’d been keeping close to his heart came tumbling free.

“I love you,” Cater confessed, voice warbling, “I love you so much.”

Cater’s face was wet, flushed red from his crying, his green eyes were bloodshot, and swollen, his lips red and abused from biting them. Mirai’s whole world seemed to slow at those words, eyes widening as it all sank in. Mirai was stunned silent, voice caught in his throat, a garbled noise emitting from his lips as he tried to say something, anything. After a while Cater’s eyes widened in realization of what he just had confessed, color draining from his face. 

“A-Ah,” Cater gasped, shooting up, sheer panic coloring his face, “I, wait, I, no, I didn’t mean, wait, no, I meant it but I didn’t mean to say it-ugh! Way to go, Cay-Cay, talk about #Lame.”

Cater ran his fingers through his bright orange curls, exasperated. His freckled cheeks were beet red, his eyes looking anywhere but Mirai as he sighed. Mirai stared at Cater, mind still reeling. Mirai reached forward and slowly pulled Cater to face him. Cater looked up confused, and before he could ask, Mirai was smashing their lips together. Cater staggered, surprised, but melted quickly after, deepening the kiss with a sigh. It hurt a bit, their lips colliding with a clash of  teeth, but neither of them stopped, neither of them cared.  

 Mirai pulled back, holding Cater’s face in his hands. “I love you too,” Mirai whispered, teary green eyes steely and serious, yet so soft and full of love, “I love you.”

Cater chuckled breathily, and Mirai thumbed away the tears as they started to fall down Cater’s face again. 

Mirai and Cater lie together, basking in the afternoon sun beaming through Ramshackle’s floor to ceiling windows. Mirai lay above Cater, his chin resting atop Cater’s head, and as always, Mirai was playing in Cater’s hair, fingers scratching at the base of his neck. Cater lay below him, head lying halfway on Mirai’s chest, their legs tangled together. One of Cater’s feet was rubbing at the back of Mirai’s calf, and sometime during their cuddling, one of Cater’s hands found its way under Mirai’s shirt, his fingers flittering up to his ribcage and back down, his thumb rubbing small mindless patterns into the dip in his hip. 

“Why were you crying last night?” Cater asked, pressing his face into Mirai’s neck.

“Crying?” Mirai asked befuddled, “I wasn’t crying.”

“Your face was really puffy, and your eyes were red, so I thought you had been crying.”

“O-Oh.”

Cater sat up, looking his lover in the face, “So you were crying.”

“It, it was nothing important,” Mirai huffed, looking away from Cater.

“It is, if it made you cry.”

“But it’s not important now.”

“How is it not?”

“Be-Because, because you’re here now! So it’s fine,” Mirai flushed, covering his face with his hands.

“Eh?” Cater huffed, reaching down to pull Mirai’s hands from his face. “What do you mean because ‘I’m here now?’ I don’t get it. And stop hiding.”

“Be-Because,” Mirai stuttered, “I-I-I missed you! I missed you and me and my stupid separation anxiety was being a big baby about it because I was lonely!”

Cater’s fight left him at Mirai’s words, a small smile gracing his lips, “You could’ve called me.”

“And be that overbearingly annoying clingy boyfriend? No way! Hard pass! No thanks!”

“You could never be any of those things to me,” Cater cooed, kissing Mirai on the nose.

Mirai grumbled, hiding his face again.

“Don’t pout,” Cater cooed, leaning down to whisper in Mirai’s ear, “You know what happens when you pout.”

“Cat-ah! S-stop!”

Mirai laughed as Cater ran his fingers across a particularly ticklish spot on his stomach. Cater chuckled, pulling the Prefect’s shirt up his chest, and ran his fingers all over Mirai’s stomach. Mirai was cackling, tears in his eyes as he tried to fight off Cater’s attack.

“O-Okay! Okay,” Mirai laughed, “I yield! I g-give! I’m sorry!”

Cater ceased his attack, giggling as Mirai continued to scoot away from him. 

Cater stared at Mirai, taking in the sight of his lover in the afternoon light. Mirai’s pale blonde hair was haloed around his head reflecting the sun, his freckles that littered his warm pale skin that was flushed a bit from laughing, the dark eye bags that never seemed to fade, his vivid green eye and the scars that marred his face. Cater felt warmth in the pit of his chest, so much that it almost hurt.

“What?” Mirai asked fondly, “What is it?”

“I really am in love with you,” Cater whispered.

“So I’ve heard,” Mirai chuckled, “But yeah, I’m in love with you too.”

Cater leaned down, holding Mirai’s face in his hands, their noses touching with their closeness. Cater hummed happily as he pressed his lips against Mirai’s in a chaste kiss. Mirai breathed a laugh, leaning up to kiss Cater back. After a while their sweet kisses turned into something more as Cater deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing past the Prefect’s lips. Mirai whined, opening his mouth to let Cater in, his tongue chasing Cater’s. Cater groaned, pressing his body closer, his hands snaking up Mirai’s shirt, feeling their way up his lover’s torso. Mirai was whining loudly as Cater’s hands rubbed, pinched and pulled at the skin on his hips. And when Cater’s tongue ran across the roof of his mouth, Mirai was moaning, back arching. They parted, lips smacking, and Cater continued his assault down Mirai’s neck, kissing, biting and sucking wherever he could. 

“Bite me,” Mirai breathed, “Bite me harder.”

Cater groaned, latching on to the skin where Mirai’s shoulder and neck met, biting down hard. Mirai gasped, arching up into Cater, hands scrambling for purchase on the back of Cater’s shirt as he continued to abuse the spot, sucking and licking a big dark mark into his skin. Cater let go, licking the mark one last time before sitting up to look down at Mirai. The Ramshackle Prefect’s face was flushed a lovely red, lips swollen and wet. His hair was disheveled and so was his shirt, all crumpled, riding up his heaving chest, his eyes were clouded with heat, and on his neck was the mark, already starting to bruise, pretty against his pale flushed skin.

“Oh, that’s a good look on you,” Cater practically groaned, breathing haggard, “Wanna take a pic so bad.”

“Only if you let me mark you too,” Mirai smirked. 

Cater reached for his phone that was on the bedside table and booted it up. Once it powered on, Cater was immediately spammed with a bunch of messages. Cater’s face fell for a couple of seconds as he fiddled with the device, and if Mirai could guess, he probably was clearing out the messages from his Mother and sisters. 

“Come here, Baby,” Cater beckoned with a sly smile.

Mirai crawled up to where Cater was, allowing Cater to move him around for the picture. They ended up lying down, facing each other. Mirai’s face was pressed up into Cater’s neck, face hidden, both of them with their arms wrapped around each other, legs tangled together.

“Bite me,” Cater breathed, holding his phone above the two of them.

“Y-You’re gonna take it with me b-biting you?” Mirai stuttered, face flushing red.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I-I don’t mind.”

“Alright, cool. Whenever you’re ready.”

Mirai moved closer to Cater, trying to find a good spot to bite.

“This good?” Mirai muttered.

“Yeah, that’s good. Perfect.” Cater sighed.

Mirai took a breath before latching his mouth onto Cater’s neck. He took to an experimental bite, trying to feel how Cater would react. 

Cater sighed with a gasp, the hand under his shirt gripping his waist a little harder.

“Harder,” Cater begged.

Mirai whined, biting harder, relishing in the way Cater moaned loudly when he bit harder, sucking on his skin. He tasted like soap, his soap, and he smelled like it too, but underneath all of that, he still smelled distinctly like Cater, crisp, clean, and spicy. Cater twitched and shivered in his hold as Mirai continued to suck on his neck. No longer taking pictures, Cater relaxed in Mirai’s hold, gasping and moaning as Mirai continued to suck on his neck.

“M-More,” Cater gasped, “Again. Pl-Please.”

Mirai let go and moved atop Cater, pushing the strawberry blonde onto his back.

“Oh?” Cater teased breathily, “Someone’s feisty.” 

Mirai smirked as he got comfortable on Cater’s hips, hands pressing down on Cater’s chest as he leaned down, lips ghosting against Cater’s as he spoke, “You like it though.”

“I do,” Cater whispered back, pecking Mirai on the lips.

Mirai picked a spot on Cater’s collar bone, kissing the spot before latching on and biting down. Cater moaned, the sound rattling in his chest as his back arched, his hands coming up to hold Mirai’s hips, his head thrashing to the right. Mirai whined, sucking harder at his neck. 

“K-Keep, keep going,” Cater gasped.

Mirai hummed, pulling down Cater’s shirt collar to suck a new mark high on his chest. 

“So good for me, Baby,” Cater cooed breathily.

Mirai continued his loving assault on Cater’s neck, the both of them lost in the feeling of each other. Mirai gave a particularly hard suck on Cater’s jaw right below his ear, and Cater let out a keening whimper high in his throat, back arching, his hips grinding up into Mirai’s, and Mirai unconsciously returned the action, the both of them moaning out at the contact. 

They both froze, hearts hammering in their chests. Mirai pulled back, green eyes wide, face crimson as he looked down at Cater below him. Cater’s appearance wasn’t better off at all, he looked utterly debauched. His green eyes were glazed over, lips wet and red, face flushed red down past his shirt collar, and his neck littered with love bites, red and bruising against his honey skin. None of them said a word, staring at each other, not knowing what to say or do.

After a couple of moments of awkward silence, Mirai spoke, stammering, “So, how does, how does Ramen sound for dinner?”

Mirai boiled some ramen noodles as Cater played some pop music on his bluetooth speaker, dancing around the kitchen as he scrolled on his phone. Mirai laughed as Cater inched his way over to Mirai, hips swaying with the beat.

“Can I post this?” Cater asked, turning his phone around. 

“You took a video?!” Mirai shouted incredulously.

“Yep. It’s easier to get good pictures that way. I can delete it if you want me to.”

“I don’t mind, but don’t post the video.”

“Ok, how about this one?”

It was a nice picture, Mirai had to admit. It was quite provocative, yes, but it was a really nice picture. You couldn’t see the top halves of their faces, Cater’s being cut off by the frame, all that was visible was from his nose down, his lips that were crooked in a smirk. Mirai’s face was covered by Cater’s and his arm, his head cocked up into Cater’s neck, mouth latched on Cater’s neck, the bruise Cater had given him earlier visible to the camera.

“That one’s nice,” Mirai nodded.

“Yeah, this one’s my favorite, totally Cater approved. #Sexy,” Cater smiled. 

Mirai snickered, “You sure you wanna post that? Like doesn’t most of the student body follow you, including Riddle?”

“I won’t post it unless you don’t want me to,” Cater said, pulling Mirai into him, swaying them both with the beat. 

“I don’t mind. My issue is that I’m more concerned about you and your reputation.”

“How so?”

“Like, for starters, Riddle. I’m pretty sure you’re probably gonna get an earful if and when he sees that. And second, are you ready to like, make us more than a Heartslabyul secret? What about your followers?”

“Riddle’s totally gonna yell at me, but yeah, I think, I think I’m ready to officially change my Magicam status. My main reason was to keep it from my Mother and sisters, but since the cat’s out of the bag, why not post an actual picture of me and my totally sexy boyfriend, and not pass it off as friends just hanging out? And just to see my comment section blow up, I’m not gonna reveal who you are yet. Wanna make ‘em jealous.”

Mirai scoffed, taking the noodles off the stove, “Who would want me?”

Cater scoffed playfully, “Uh, me?”

“Besides you, you dummy.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Mirai looked surprised, “What do you mean?”

“You have quite the rep around here, and believe it or not, it’s more positive than negative.”

“I can’t see why? Like, who would want an ugly, scarred up, broken-”

“Finish that sentence and I will tell Riddle that it was you and Ace who put that hole in the wall.”

“Cater,” Mirai shouted, a pout on his face. “You promised! And Ace was asking for it!”

“Then don’t finish that sentence and I won’t tell,” Cater laughed.

Mirai pouted, as he dished the ramen into three bowls, setting the table.

“But back to our original conversation, is it alright if I post this?” Cater asked, sitting down.

“Yeah, I don’t mind,” Mirai said, sitting down next to Cater.  

“Cool.”

Five minutes later, Cater posted the picture.“#FallBreak, #BestVaycayEver, #Boyfriends,” Cater rambled, other hashtags Mirai couldn't catch with the speed Cater was posting at. “And done.”

“Sap,” Mirai laughed.

“Love you too,” Cater cooed with a wink.

Mirai shook his head. 

Grim came down sometime after, taking a seat at the other end of the table.

“So why’s he here?” Grim gruffed around a mouthful of noodles.

“Grim,” Mirai warned.

“What?! Isn’t he supposed to be on vacation? Who’d want to spend their vacation at school?”

Cater smirked, “What can I say, Cay-Cay missed his totally adorable boyfriend and his boyfriend’s totally adorable cat.”

“I am not a cat!”

Cater began poking fun at Grim and Grim retaliated with empty threats and harsh words. Mirai, on the other hand, laughed loudly at their bickering.

Grim left, more annoyed than angry after Mirai gave him a donut for dessert, Mirai and Cater continued to eat their ramen, Cater’s music filling the space. Mirai watched Cater eat, finding it endearing as Cater tied his hair up into a short ponytail to keep it from falling into his food. 

“Is it hot enough for you?” Mirai asked, “Because if it’s not, there’s all types of hot sauce in the pantry.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m good,” Cater dismissed. 

Mirai got up from the table, confusing Cater as he rummaged through the pantry until he found the hot sauce. Mirai brought the small bottle back to the table, setting it in front of Cater.

“You didn’t have to do that. It’s good as is,” Cater reasoned.

“You like it spicy right? So just use it,” Mirai argued.

“But it’s good. I couldn’t mess up your food.”

“The only reason why it’s not spicy is because I can’t handle spicy food.”

“Nope, it’s fine.”

“You really don’t want it to be spicy?” Mirai asked.

“It’s fine, really,” Cater laughed. 

The pair finished their food, washing the dishes together, Cater washing and Mirai drying. Mirai put away the last dish, and when he turned around, Cater was dancing again. The song was upbeat, the kind of music you would hear at a party. Cater looked the Magicless Prefect in the eye as he swiveled his hips, a hand running up his torso, pulling his shirt up with it, his smooth stomach revealing itself in its wake. 

Mirai put a hand on his hip, raising an eyebrow, and Cater snickered, wiggling his eyebrows. Mirai laughed. 

“C’mon, Dollface, dance with me,” Cater laughed.

“Can’t dance,” Mirai smiled, “but the view is nice.”

Cater cackled, throwing his head back. 

Cater grabbed both of Mirai’s hands and pulled him close. The pair did nothing special, swaying to the beat of the music, Cater and Mirai spinning each other here and there. The couple had fun dancing around, Cater belting out a couple of lines, his voice playfully and airy, and more than once did they have each other blushing and laughing. Then a slower song played and they slowed their step to a slow dance, their movements unhurried and steady. Cater sang quietly to the song as he held Mirai close, his head resting on top of Mirai’s, his arms wrapped around the younger’s waist and shoulders.

“You smell good,” Mirai mumbled, pressing his face into Cater’s chest, tangling his hands in the back of his shirt.

“You always say that,” Cater chuckled. “What do I smell like?”

“I don’t know how to describe it. Like, I know you wear cologne, but you always smell clean, crisp, and spicy, sometimes even deep and musky, and sometimes light sweet, but it’s you.”

Cater hummed. 

Cater buried his face in Mirai’s hair, kissing the top of his head, and Mirai pressed his ear to Cater’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as they danced. Mirai couldn’t explain the giddy warm feeling he felt when he was with Cater. Whether it be talking to Cater, eating with Cater, cuddling with Cater, or simply just sitting next to him, Mirai felt happy, and safe. And he never wanted to let that feeling go. 

Mirai turned his head and looked up at Cater, and Cater looked down with a warm smile.

“Yes, Cutie Pie?” Cater cooed.

“I love you,” Mirai whispered, face warming.

Cater flushed as he held Mirai’s face in his hands, his thumbs petting Mirai’s soft cheeks. Mirai reached up to place his hands on top of Cater’s, his hands running up the length of Cater’s arms until they were on his. They stared at each other, lost in each other's eyes, in the sweetness of the moment, and neither of them wanted it to end.

“I love you too,” Cater finally said, leaning down to kiss Mirai softly.

Cater’s phone went off, the ringer a playful little tune as it sounded through the room. The pair broke apart and Cater rushed over to his phone, face lighting up as he answered it.

“‘Sup Trey,” Cater chirped happily. 

“Not to dampen your mood, but you good?” Trey asked, genuinely concerned. 

“Yeah,” Cater breathed, “I am now.”

“That’s good, I’m glad. Thanks Mirai.”

“It was nothing really,” Mirai spoke up, looking over Cater’s shoulder, “Would’ve done it for any of you, honestly.” 

Suddenly Cater’s phone started going off again and after Cater clicked a button, Ace’s face came into view. 

“‘Sup Acey,” Cater winked. 

“Hi Ace,” Mirai waved.

“So we just not gonna talk about that picture you two posted?” Ace asked, an eyebrow raised. “Riddle’s gonna kill you.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him,” Cater laughed.

“Oh, but I do know.”

Cater froze as Riddle’s face came up next to Trey’s, face twisted in anger. 

“H-Hey Riddle,” Cater said, voice full of fear.

“Oh! Let me get Deuce in on this,” Ace said and not soon after Deuce joined the video call. 

“You’re so dead,” Deuce laughed. 

“Tell me Cater,” Riddle growled, “What would possess you to post something like that!”

“Mi-Mi gave me the okay to post it,” Cater defended himself. 

“Mirai! How could you let him post something so provocative like that?!”

Mirai laughed as he poked his head over Cater’s shoulder, “You have to admit, it was a nice picture.”

“Mirai!”

“It was, though,” Ace agreed.

Deuce and Trey nodded in agreement. 

“Don’t agree with them,” Riddle shouted.

“Lighten up Riddle, they’re having fun,” Trey soothed. “We’re letting the little things go, Riddle, remember?”

“This is not a little thing!”

“Totes a little thing,” Cater laughed.

Mirai laughed at Riddle as his face grew red.

Cater turned around, grabbing Mirai so that he was sitting on his lap, as Riddle and Trey continued to argue.

“Look at his neck,” Riddle yelled.

Mirai looked at their necks from the phone camera, and Mirai had to agree, their necks did look pretty bad. 

“Cater’s is worse than Mirai’s,” Ace laughed.

“It’s worse than it was in the picture,” Deuce laughed. 

“Oh Queen of Hearts, please help me,” Riddle groaned.

“Dang Mirai,” Ace laughed, “You really went to town, didn’t you?”

Mirai cackled, “He asked for it.”

“Mirai,” Riddle scolded.

“Keep telling y’all, wrong impression,” Mirai laughed.

“Looks like it hurts,” Deuce said.

“Oh no, Hon” Cater said, “It feels really good.”

“Cater,” Riddle chided.

Everyone laughed, while Riddle groaned miserably. 

“Ugh,” Riddle whined. “Why are we even discussing this?”

“You brought it up, boo,” Cater winked.

“But how are you gonna cover it up?” Deuce asked.

“It’s not like anyone’s gonna see it, I’m not going anywhere,” Cater said nonchalantly.

“You say that like you intend for no one to see that, yet post it on the internet,” Trey deadpanned. 

Cater laughed, flashing the camera with his signature three fingered salute. 

“So like, you guys aren’t afraid of what people might say?” Deuce asked warily. 

Everyone seemed to quiet down at his question.

“If you had asked me that a couple of weeks ago, I’d say yes, but now, I could care less,” Mirai said sincerely. “Anyone who has a problem can kick rocks.”

Cater, Ace, Trey, and Deuce laughed and Riddle sighed.

“I’ll let this one slide,” Riddle huffed, “But I don’t wanna see any more photo’s like that coming from either of you.”

“No promises,” Mirai sang.

Riddle growled.

“Have you seen Savanaclaw's posts?” Cater asked incredulously. 

“I have no control over Savanaclaw and what they post.”

“I think it was a nice photo,” An unfamiliar voice commented. 

Mirai looked at the screen, and jumped in surprise at the floating head behind Trey and Riddle.

“Get out, Che’nya,” Riddle yelled, swinging his arms. 

“Aww but I missed you,” Che’nya whined, body materializing as he held onto Riddle. 

“Get off me!”

The two began to argue, their voices loud and echoey through the phone, and it wasn’t until a pillow was thrown, most likely by Riddle, did Trey get up.

“Gotta go,” Trey said, wincing as the yelling continued, a loud bang resonating through the phone, “Talk later, yeah?”

“Bye, Trey,” Ace and Deuce waved. 

“Night,” Mirai waved. 

“Laters,” Cater waved. 

Trey hung up, leaving the chat.

“Ima get off too,” Deuce said, “It is late, and my mom is asleep.”

“That’s fine,” Mirai said, “Let’s all just call it a night. We can chat in the morning, yeah?”

“Yeah, night guys,” Ace called, “Night mama’s boy.”

“Hey,” Deuce shouted.

Everyone laughed.

“Night,” Cater chirped.

“Night, Deuce,” Mirai laughed.

“Night,” Deuce grumbled.

Cater ended the call, and Mirai stretched his arms over his head, yawning, as he stood up from Cater’s lap. It was late and Mirai thought about settling in for the night. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Cater asked.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Mirai said thoughtfully.

“You can set up my laptop,” Cater said quietly, “but first, I’m gonna call my mother, and apologize.”

Mirai nodded, leaving to give Cater his privacy.

Mirai and Cater watched a movie on Cater’s laptop as they laid in bed together. It was some romcom where the female lead gets accepted for a job as secretary, but what she doesn’t know is that her new boss is the man who she dumped back in high school. Mirai was trying to pay attention, he really was, but with Cater playing with the hair at the base of his neck, his fingers scratching at his scalp, the slow relaxed rise and fall of Cater’s warm chest, and the sound of his beating heart, Mirai was struggling to keep his eyes open. 

“Falling asleep, Sweetpea?” Cater muttered, his voice sounding sleepy as well.

“No,” Mirai lied, a yawn escaping his lips.

Cater chuckled softly, “Liar.”

“Am not,” Mirai pouted, eyes closing again.

“Go to sleep, Baby. We can watch this another time.”

“I’m, I’m not tired,” Mirai slurred sleepily.

Not even a minute later, Mirai was snoring softly. Cater chuckled to himself, grabbing his phone to take a quick pic before he carefully shut and moved his laptop.

“Good night, Mi-Mi,” Cater whispered, placing a soft kiss to the crown of Mirai’s head, “Love you.”

Cater smiled to himself, nuzzling his face into Mirai’s hair. For once in his life, Cater could just be. He didn’t need to put on the pretty face created by his sister's perfection for all things cute, he didn’t have to put on the face he reserved for people so that they didn’t get too close, all because he and his family never stayed in one place when he was a child. He didn’t have to keep the fake smiles, no matter how he was feeling, just so that people couldn’t actually see how broken he really was. He didn't have to smile through the pain and lie through his teeth, because Mirai was always a step ahead of him, always so caring and attentive. So he could cry, he could be tired, he could be angry, he could be human again. He could be the man he wanted to be, the man he always wanted to be, not the jumbled up mess he was now. And most importantly, he could be himself. 

For once in his life, Cater felt that he belonged somewhere, somewhere he felt safe, somewhere he felt free, somewhere he felt loved, and somewhere he felt truly at home. And that somewhere was in the arms of his lover.

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Thanks for reading, I really appreciate it. If it weren't for the smattering amount of yall who ready every time I post, I would have given up long ago, so thank you so much!

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