#you are such a beautiful soul and i am very lucky to have you here with me!!!!

[inkykeiji]

Monthly gorepop reminder to clari that youre my favourite writer EVER and i am so glad youre thriving??? Cant wait for strawberry’s bmb and your new letter venture! You truly have a beautifully unique writing style its so chock full of imagery its a delight to read ily ily

MONTHLY CLARI REMINDER THAT I LOVE U and i appreciate you so much!!!!!!! (´∀｀)♡ oh my gosh hehe this is such a sweet message my friend thank you thank you thank you!!!!!! i too am very excited about the future <33 i am always sending so much love and health ur way <333

#SO LOVELY IT MADE ME TEAR UP #you are such a beautiful soul and i am very lucky to have you here with me!!!! #your support means more to me than i can physically put into words <3 #please have a fabulous weekend my friend and stay safe!!! always!! AND HYDRATED #i’ll drink water right now too!!! #ily lots!!! #gorepop kill pop #clari gets mail

[winterarmyy]

Thin Walls, Thin Lines

What will happen if a fuckboy falls in love with a hopeless romantic?

Summary: Modern society surely had corrupted the mind of the hundred-something year old man, Bucky Barnes, when he seemed to have forgotten the art of courting a lady. Lost in lust and pleasure, he had been indulging with endless array of different girls on his bed almost every night. And the opposite side of that thin walls of his room, lives a hopeless romantic who he was madly in love with.

Navigation: Original Version || Deleted Scene* (alt. ending)

Pairing: fuckboy!bucky x female!reader

Words: 4.9k++

Warnings: avenger au, explicit language/contents, angst, lil bit of drama, fluff, please bare with the fuckery of bucky barnes, reader is sensitive yet quite fiesty too. i can't backup steve on this one, he is on his own.

A/N: As you can see from the navigation bar, we have two different endings for this fic, because I am greedy and indecisive. The original version ended with fluff and the deleted scene (alternate ending) ended with absolute filth of a smut. So... enjoy! 💕

P/S: And this is also my submission for @jessybarnes 's writing challenge. I have chosen "Kiss me again" from the prompt list and I hope you like the way I used it in this fic!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Y/N has always been a hopeless romantic. She dreams of a love like the ones she read in books. She craved someone who loves her so deeply that she could never find peace in anyone else but him. She wanted all the love songs and poetry to be reminders of him; his beauty, his charms.

Fresh flowers, stargazing, coffee dates, kisses that tastes of cotton candy, warm cuddles, and every little things in between; she longed for it all. She dreams of a love that is so consuming until all that's left in that small bubble of infatuation is their entangled soul mending each other to the bone.

That's what makes her a hopeless romantic.

And very much the opposite of her was Bucky. He is an infuriating flirt. There's not a day goes by that he doesn't call her with sickeningly sweet nicknames; doll, gorgeous, princess, darling, you name it. He will definitely drop some suggestive lines at any given chance and most of the time when she least expected.

He can charm anyone just by his presence, and if you're lucky enough to get one of his infamous smile; then you best believe that you won't be going home alone that night, or able to walk proper the next morning. He is the typical playboy you know and hate; very often she'll see different girl in his arms or on his bed. And that man seemed to not know when to stop. Sometimes, she do wonder if he ever got tired of sex. Because she knows for certain that he can go on and on for hours, daily.

"Fuck,, that's it. Spread your legs for me. Yeah, 'atta girl."

Speaking of the devil.

This has been recurring for months now. It seems like the man never sleep because his voice would always wake her up. She couldn't decide what was worse; between being forced to hear the sounds of the skin slapping, the bed creaking, him groaning and her squealing or being a super light sleeper that even a whisper in her room would jolt her awake.

Y/N let out an annoyed grunt when she swoop her head under the pillow, hoping to silenced the noises even just a little bit. Surprise; it didn't help at all. Her body cringed and her face contorted into a squint when she hear the other woman announcing her release as the headboard hits the wall a little harder, a little faster.

Bucky Barnes sure is a fuckboy but unfortunately for her, he is also the man she fell in love with.

She refused to show it, but lord knows how much her heart simply swell to the sight of his smile. Despite the flirtatious tendencies of his, there was something about him that attracted her like a magnet; or like a moth to a flame.

Maybe it was his old soul, or maybe because she saw glimpses of timeless charm in him; the way he moves, the way he gazes, and the way treated her. Nevertheless, it was such a devastating thing for someone like her to fall for someone like him.

The last thing she wanted in a man, is to look at her like she was just a good fuck and nothing more. She just couldn't imagine herself to be tied with someone like that. And Bucky was exactly that someone.

Y/N haven't been able to get more than 2 hours of sleep for months now. The lack of it had caused her to drastically lose physical strength and lately fatigue has been a constant presence as well.

So she decided to go the medbay to consult Dr. Cho about it. After running some tests, she sat her down for some Camomile tea as she went through the results, "It seemed like the severe lack of sleep had took a really heavy toll on you."

Y/N sighed as she place the tea cup on the back on the table, "Yes, I am well aware of that. That is precisely why I am here."

"Nightmares?" Dr. Cho speculated.

If the definition of nightmare is 'the moans of the man, that she had a crush on, fucking someone else next door' then, yes. She was having long and nearly endless nightmares for months now.

"Something like that." She lied.

"Then, I have some medication that I can prescribe to you. You should take it daily after dinner and..." Before Dr. Cho managed to finish her instructions, Y/N quickly asked, "Is it possible to fix me without meds?"

Dr. Cho frowned curiously, "Why wouldn't take meds? That's the quickest way to help for your situation, as far as I know." she asked.

This was not her first rodeo; she had troubles sleeping back when she was merely teenager. And the last time tried using meds, she ended up almost overdosed herself from it, "It's just... I prefer not to." she evaded.

Dr. Cho nodded understandingly before clarifying the current situation, "Well then, I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do for you. Though some research suggested that meditation routine before sleep can help. Or putting up some natural ambience like the sound of rain or waves--"

Y/N wasn't really listening after the first sentence. Because all she could thought of was how much longer she can bare with this and what will it take for her to finally snap.

Y/N was dying. At least it felt like it.

With her deprivation of sleep and the intense combat training she had to go through today, her patience was reaching it's limit. After visiting the medbay 2 weeks ago, she had tried to approach Bucky about it but he always took it lightly.

There was series of insincere apology followed by a cheeky promise to 'keep the tone down' for her. But nothing changed. She asked him again and again; days gone by he didn't live up to the end of his bargain.

For those past week, Y/N had resorted to sleep in the living room for most of the nights. How she dreaded to leave her comfy bed but she could no longer tolerate the sounds coming from the other side on the wall. Though she still jolted awake from time to time due to how uncomfortable it was sleeping on a couch, but at least she got more than 2 hours of sleep if she was to compare to the nights she slept in her own room.

It's not she didn't notice it at all; she knew exactly how and why it happened. The habit of microsleeping that she developed during the course of this training. The slowed reaction time, the lack of energy, she can feel it. But, there was nothing she can do about it.

The only cure for this was to get some rest. A proper rest. And that can't happened, not without Bucky's cooperation.

When Y/N was marching towards the sargent who was sitting way across the gym; she could see how his eyes undress every piece of her clothing, how his tongue rolled out and his teeth sunk into his lips.

She wasn't even wearing anything remotely provocative but here he was lusting over the way her hips sway especially when he was the one she's walking towards.

The moment she stood in front of him, his mouth lifted into a smirk, "Yes, princess. How may I be of your service?" His voice was sultry and the way he towers over made her slightly nervous for no reason.

Her heart fluttered, yet her lips refused to form a smile, "Don't call me princess."

"I apologize, my queen." Bucky gave her a cheeky smile.

Y/N didn't want to drag this any longer than she should, so she quicky jump into it and said, "So you know how I’m like-"

"-absolutely embarrassingly in love with me? Yes, I'm familiar go on." Bucky cuts in. If panic ever rose in her chest, then she was doing an incredible job of hiding it, "Can you just shut up for a second and take me seriously?"

His eyes glint with flirtaous mischief when he replied, "Doll, you know the fastest way to shut me up is to kiss me."

Y/N simply sighed before she began to rant, "I really don't have the mood for this banter with you, Barnes. I just want you tone down your nightly routine. It is because of you I've been having trouble sleeping and--"

He quickly stopped her before she nags even more than she already did, "Okay, okay I get it. We've been through this, doll." Bucky's face lit up when he suggested, "How about I help you sleep, hmm? I may know a thing or two about tiring someone out." There was surely something unholy in those steel blue eyes of his.

And Y/N picked it up rather quick, but considering the amount of times he had insinuate something more than just a friendly banter, then of course she knew exactly what he was suggesting, so she simply replied, "No offense, Barnes. But, I don't do one night stand or no strings attached thing. And with a manwhore like you? No, thank you." sassy was her answer.

Bucky's head tilted back as he laughed, then when he spoke his voice was like a devil luring an angel to sin, "Oh babydoll, if I were to be a whore, it'll only be for you." He stepped closer so that only she can hear his confession.

His masculine scent hits her nose, mixture of the citrus cologne and his natural odour was just perfect. Annoyingly alluring; but perfect. And it took all her will to hold it together and blatantly rejects him, "Still not interested."

Bucky groaned in protest, "Come on, princess. You can't keep dreaming for some prince charming to court you, do you? You know that's probably never going to happen right?"

Surely he meant only to tease her; that it was less likely that an actual prince to romance her. Not that she did not deserve the world; she does. And Bucky was more than will to burn it to the ground if that's what she wanted.

But, Y/N didn't see it that way. She thought that Bucky meant that she is not worthy enough for a decent man to court her with respect and chilvary; that she was just a toy fit for fucking and nothing more. And the fact that her "insomia" had affected her usually high patience and reduced it to almost paper thin, it was only fair for her to finally snap.

She can tolerate his endless flirtation but she can't simple turn a blind eye for his insult.

Bucky was caught by surprise why Y/N harshly grabbed him by the collar, pushing him back and nearly stumbled; her eyes was pure fire when she growled, "Don't you dare mock the way I value relationship, Barnes." Her nose flared with anger and the commotion has attracted some prying eyes towards the two.

"Just because you enjoy fucking anything that breathes, that doesn't mean that everyone else does." She seethed, "The only cock that will be wrecking my pussy would belong to someone I love and if you have a problem with that, you can fuck right off." She forcefully pushed him until his ass landed on the bench behind him.

Her feet stomped all throughout her exit out of the gym, leaving Bucky in a blinking confusion.

He knew it was wrong.

It felt good. It felt right.

But, it was so fucking wrong.

To keep moaning Y/N's name when he railed those strangers to heaven; when he came so hard into the thin layer of condom. And it was always a soft and slow type of whimper, right in those girls' ears. So intimate, so careful not to let his secret out; knowing how thin the walls between him and the love of his life.

But, he certainly didn't care about the girl he was fucking. If it wasn't for his heavy body pinning her from behind, she would've elbowed him right in the guts for moaning another woman's name. Unfortunately for him, she quickly ditched and see herself out after the first round.

Now, he laid there; naked and bare. Thinking of how he simply couldn't help it. How could he not think of Y/N all the times? Not when he was deeply, helplessly in love with her. But, he knew she wouldn't bat an eye at him now that he had the reputation of a "fuckboy", as the young ones describes it. She especially made it clear today at the gym. She's never going to give him a chance now.

Not when she's a hopeless romantic. And the fact that he too was once the same was just aggravating to him. He was such a gentleman decades ago; before Hydra, before the war, when he was but a young man living Brooklyn.

His Ma had really shaped him into the perfect gentleman; every parents in the neighbourhood wanted him as their son-in-law. They claimed he would make the perfect husband for their daughters. But, things are different now. And he knew that the man he was before was long forgotten.

It was just curiosity at first; about how sex works in the 21st century. However, Bucky quickly fall into the promises of lust and pleasure; changing girls like changing clothes. He let himself dosed in ecstasy, as if it was a drug to silenced the dark and haunting memories of his past, like it was a quick escape from reality, from the Winter Soldier.

Then, Y/N happened.

Bucky never saw it coming; but, he fell. Hard.

They were colleague for years and had been a good friend he can rely on besides Steve. She was so sweet and pretty. Probably the most gorgeous woman he ever laid his eyes on, in the hundred something year old life of his. Most importantly, she was kind and patient and strong and fierce yet so unforgivingly selfless. 

But that didn't matter now, does it? Especially when she despise him. And it was all because of the unholy title he held.

At first Bucky didn't notice it, but now that he stepped closer into the living room, he heard it again. The rustling fabric, the quiet whimper coming from the sofa. His steps were as careful as a wolf on a hunt, stalking a hiding prey in between the trees.

If Bucky were to guess what he would find on a late night trip to the kitchen, he would've probably said 'ice cream' and not 'Y/N sleeping in the living room'. His eyes briefly raked her sleeping figure, curling uncomfortably into the pastel purple blanket. Then at the scattered pillows on the floor around her.

Why was she sleeping in the living room?

Another whine passed her lips and his attention was locked on her frowning face; it seemed like she was having a bad dream. Bucky carefully crouch next to her, and ravel in her beauty. Such delicate features, long lashes, pretty freckles across her nose, and those soft looking lips; he would kill just to taste her them, to sink his teeth in between them.

It worried him though; to see her sleeping here. She was clearly uncomfortable, it was a mystery that she managed to even fall asleep in the first place. Bucky suspected she simply passed out due to today's training. It was particularly hard, even for him. Let alone a normal human being like Y/N.

Not to mention the fight that they had.

Then, it clicked. The complains about how she had trouble sleeping. It wasn't just to make fun of him or tease him in any way. It was a plead. She needed to be heard and he completely blew her off with jest and jokes.

"Was it because of... me?" Bucky thought to himself. It all made sense now, "Shit." A curse rang in his mind when he bit the insides of his cheek. He was mad at himself. How could he be so insensitive? And he claimed to love her? Please. What an absolute piece of shit he was.

When Y/N began to toss and turn, her blanket fell from her body. Even in her sleep, the cold managed to catch her. She instinctively curled towards herself, seeking warmth but was no avail.

She look so small and Bucky felt a surge of need to cuddle her close, keeping her safe, keeping her warm in his arms. But if he does that, he'd probably get kicked in the nuts. So instead, he picked up the fallen blanket lay it back across her whole body; carefully not to disturb her sleep.

Bucky smiled softly when she snuggled into the fabric and before he walked away, he swore to stop this corrupting habit of his and apologize for being such a douchebag to her. And if he's lucky, maybe he could even properly court her.

But for now, he just needed to go through tommorrow's mission. So does everyone one else in the team.

"Do you realized what you have done?" Not matter how hard he tried to hold it back, everyone in the Quinjet can see how Steve was seething.

Y/N's lost of sleep had took a toll on her more than she realized now that it had affected her performance in mission. She tried to ignore the way she was basically seeing Steve's feet multiply by the second, and continued to look down in shame, "I'm sorry, Captain."

"Don't apologize to me. Nat's the one who got shot because of you!" He yelled as he pointed at the red haired woman at the side of the plane.

No matter how much she wanted to blame Bucky on this; how he literally robbed her from fulfilling her human needs to rest at night, but she just couldn't. It was her fault that Natasha got hurt. If she was more alert, she would've seen the enemy standing right in front of her. If she was awake enough, then Natasha wouldn't get hurt.

Tears threatened to form when she looked over at her dear friend, bleeding at the side, "I'm so sorry, Nat. I really am. I didn't know what came to me and I--"

"Oh please, I'd take a bullet for you any day of the week, honey." Natasha swiftly cuts into her apology, in attempt to diffuse the heated situation.

But, Steve totally disagree with her, "Don't make this 'okay', Nat. You almost died because for her carelessness. Being inadequate shouldn't be okay for any agent to do. It is extremely reckless and downright stupid."

There was a sound of a distant gasp from the pilot pit, "Language!" Tony was clearly trying to lighten up the mood but it failed rather miserably when no one reacted.

Steve had every right to be mad, especially when his girlfriend was injured because of this, but oh does it hurt to hear his stabbing words. It hurts more when it comes from the Captain America himself.

God, she was extremely tired.

Physically, mentally and that's what happens when a person is lack of sleep. Then when she thought about all her hardwork and struggles to train amongst the superhero themselves, she couldn't help but to crack; and the tears that was building up in her eyes finally fell.

When Steve saw it, he lost it completely, "Oh, you're gonna cry now? WOW. Real mature, y/n. You can't disappoint me more can you?" At that point, he was being a little too mean for anyone's liking.

Especially Bucky.

So Bucky slowly pulled Y/N back, and shielded her body behind his as he went on face to face with his bestfriend, "That's enough, Steve." He warned but Steve doesn't seem to get the idea, "No, Buck. Do you see--"

Bucky took one step closer, his menacing glare went right through Steve's soul, "I said... that's enough." He repeated his words. This time the message went through.

Steve gulped and cleared his throat as he waved a dismissing hand, "I expect a full report and a letter of apology from you when we get back, y/n." He ended his sentence with his back turned and then walked away towards his girl.

When Bucky turned around to face Y/N, she was but a crying mess. Tears kept streaming down and her lips quivered in so much sadness. Now, that she was in the light, Bucky could see the darker shades on the bag of her eyes.

This was his fault. If he just stopped goofing around and listen to what she had to say yesterday, she wouldn't need to go through this, "Oh sweetheart..." though he meant to call her in his mind, it might just slipped through his lips.

Y/N glared up at him, "This was none of your concern, Barnes." She spat.

He shrugged, "Well, lucky for you, I don't care whose it is. What I know is I care about you. Now, let's get that wound patch up." Bucky simply said, and that was when she realized that her ribs were slashed open, bleeding and torn. Maybe it was not too deep, that was why she didn't notice it.

But it is an injury nonetheless, and it was a surprise to her that Bucky noticed it. "I don't want your help." She frowned yet continued to sniffle.

"Yeah, but you need it." He replied as he carefully tucked the loose strand of her hair behind her ears.

Unable to think of any comebacks, she let her fatigue win over. Her lips shut tightly and her chest shuddered for breaths. And when Bucky took her hand in his and lead the way, her body instantly responded by gripping him tight.

Bucky's heart soared at the touch of her small hand in his, while fire was burning in hers.

She hates him. She hates how caring he can be. She hates how soft he was when handling her. And she hates how easy it was for him to make her fall for him even more.

Y/N's body quickly went on auto pilot; she let him undress the blood soaking top and patch her wounds. And Bucky let her cry her heart out on his shoulder all the way back home to New York.

That night when everyone had settled back to their own rooms, Y/N was prepping to sleep outside again. It was like a schedule for Bucky to always fuck whatever his frustrations out when they finished a mission.

And she doesn't want to hear any of it. Not tonight.

Thankfully, her wounds were mostly healed thanks to Dr. Cho and her ingenious of a machine, Cradle. That thing fixed the teared tissue right up with its regenerative  functions.

Now, Y/N just needs to endure the bruises but those are bearable. What she couldn't bear is the lack of energy and goodnight's sleep. She wished to just pass out for days and not wake up even if a prince came to kiss her to wake.

And she knew that sleeping in her room won't give her that.

Y/N piled her pillows and blanket on top of another before scanning the room one last time to make sure she didn't leave anything behind. Because she was not planning to step foot in her room until dawn comes, hoping the sounds from the other side of the room died down by then.

When she was walking pass Bucky's, she noticed how awfully quiet his room was, but she didn't think about it too much. She waited for the elevator to open its door only to reveal the man himself, "Barnes."

He eyed how Y/N's figure almost hidden behind the piles of pillow in her hold. He stepped out as he asked, "Where do you think you're going?" Bucky knew exactly where but he was not having any of that.

It was weird to her that she didn't see any sign or Bucky's hook-up in his arms, but she bet that there will be one after she's gone downstairs, "Away from you, that's for sure." She said, taking a step into the elevator but instantly stopped the moment Bucky blocked her path.

Bucky lips flatten against each other; he didn't say anything, he only frowned down at her then simply grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to her room.

Utterly confused, "What are you doing? Hey, let go of me." She twisted her wrist in his hold, while trying to balance the pillows from falling. A useless trial it was; because who could even escape that metal grip of his.

Bucky quickly respond, "No. You're not sleeping on that shitty sofa tonight." He stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to her, "You're injured, y/n. You need on a proper rest on a proper bed." He coaxed.

How did he know that she had been sleeping on the coach? She thought before saying out loud, "I'm fine, Barnes. It's not even that deep of a wound, the Cradle fixed it clean. So, can you just... let go of my hand?" She sighed.

But Bucky refused to even spare her a glance, he silently tug her and stomp his way towards her room. There waa retaliation on her side, but his lack of response had lead Y/N to her defeat. She begrudgingly followed his long strides until she they stood by her bed.

He snatched each of the pillows and blankets off her hands, while Y/N simply blinked speechlessly as she watched Bucky started set up her bed like he had been doing it everyday.

Weirdly, at times like this, she found him extremely lovely. There was no corny and flirty comment about her, or his annoying habit of teasing every little thing she does.

There was just a comfortable silence and a kind gesture; the type that pulled the red strings of her heart just enough to make her want to dream of him.

Fucking hell, she can't believe that he managed to do that again! Making her fall for his antics. He really needs to stop doing that, it's simply rude.

Y/N broke from her love struck trance when she felt his cold metal laced around her hand again, he pulled her closer, "Now hop on, bunny. You need to rest." He lead her under the blanket and she grumbled curses under her breath, something about he need stop calling her weird nicknames like that.

When she was well tucked in and comfortable, Bucky sat at the edge of the bed by her side and spoke, "I'm sorry. For not trying to listen to you at the gym yesterday. I was a jerk."

His apology was so sincere that Y/N caught herself in a shock. Who is this man? What has he done to Bucky Barnes?

His eyes lingered to the wall behind her bed as if he was trying to find the right words to address it, "About the noises..." he trailed, "...it'll stop from now on."

Oh. Nevermind. She liked this Bucky. She wants to keep him forever, "Really? You mean it?" There weren't any effort put to hide her excitement when her voice nearly squeaked.

Bucky chuckled amusingly at her reaction, "Really, doll. But, you gotta promise not to sleep on the couch again."

Sparks of joy filled her chest when he confirmed his decision. Sure, it was such a small favour to do to anyone. But, she appreciate his efforts to make amends. "Hmm, I promise." She hummed happily, blinking slow as the comfort of her bed lured her into a drowsy state.

"Thanks, Bucky." Her mentioned his name.

Thank god for the super sensitive hearing ability, cause Bucky surely love the sound of her voice whispering his name so softly, "For apologizing or for tucking you to sleep?" He jest.

It only made her eyes rolled to the side and a smile spread across her face, "Both." she said. "And for what you did on the jet."

Bucky simply shrugged as if it was a normal thing to do. But, it wasn't. It was rare for him to challenge Steve like he did. And he did it for her, "Really, I owe you one." She said assuringly.

A playful smirk pulled on Bucky's lips when he spoke "Doll, you shouldn't be saying that so carelessly. Who knows I might use it for despicable things." Surely, he love to be the cause to bloom those red shades on her cheeks.

But it didn't happened when she asked quietly, "Will you?"

And the silence that came after was heavy with tenderness while their eyes spoke the truth to one another. As the thin lines in between got blurry, for once, there was just streams of genuine feelings pouring out of them, leaking through and contaminating the air with its magic.

Would he? Take advantage of her?

How could he though? He loved her too much to even think of purposely hurting her. "No." Bucky replied as he leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead, "Sleep well, princess." He mumbled against her skin.

And he pulled back, he grinned a cheeky smile. There it was; the pink blush on her face, wide surprise of her eyes and her slightly parted lips. She looked so adorable. He swore couldn't get enough of it.

"Kiss me again..." she nearly growled, but her blushing on her face didn't indicate anger, "...and I will choke you in your sleep." Though it was an attempt to threaten but typical of Bucky to just love to turn things around, "Hmm, is that an invitation, princess?" He purred and stole another kiss; this time, on her cheek. "Then, I will be looking forward to it." He whispered as quickly as he removed himself from the scene.

When he found his own bed, he couldn't help but to laugh at the muffled scream coming from the opposite side of the thin walls, "James. Fucking. Barnes!!!"

End.

Alternate ending (smut edition): Deleted Scene >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I hope you drop some thoughts behind before going to the deleted scene. Which I know you will. See you on the other side 👀

#jessybarnesreaches500 #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #avenger!bucky #fuckboy!bucky #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #thin walls thin lines au

[greg-montgomery]

hey fay! I hope you're having a beautiful mornin

I am here to request like SWOONING hotch, touchstarved, red-cheeked, brain shortcircuited hotch, who is left a puddle by reader's lingering touches at the office.

I feel like if y/n was the type to just grab him by the hand when they need to show him something, the type to cradle the back of his head with their hand whenever they pull him in for their signature hugs, the type to casually doze off on HIS SHOULDER 😳🚨 he would simply be putty in their hands, he's just enamoured every time they open their mouth and say HIS NAME? HIS? and if they gave him his very own nickname like not even aaron not hotch but a personal nickname because THEY think about HIM enough to think he needs his own special word (personally I imagine they call him beam and he never knows why - but its bc when he smiles, like really smiles that gorgeous face thats nothing but smile lines and dimples ear-to-ear, he's beaming, he's a beamer, its just what he does. I. dont make the rules).

basically i would love to just read about lovely little hotch to get butterflies and blush and be enamoured by somebody, and of course reader is clueless bc they think thats just how he is but NO when they touch him he feels sparks and he'll follow them like a magnet, its this force they have on him, he's just a willing participant in any aspect of their life they're willing to let him see.

i would totally get if this was not your vibe or not something you want to write/elaborate on but GOD i need more swooning hotch in my life

bestie i'm embarassing late to this 😭 you're just so sweet - if you read this pls tell me you saw it lmfao <3 ily

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Aaron!”

Hearing the sound of his first name coming from your lips made him pause for a second. Impatient from watching him standing there frozen, you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the direction you wanted his attention at.

“Come on, look at this. I found his son’s drawings. This could give us some insight of what their relationship looks like,” you explained, but Aaron was unable to pay any attention to your words, as your hand was still holding his.

“Beam, are you listening to me?”

Here goes that nickname again, he thought. He would sell his soul to find out what that nickname meant. He had asked you about it before, but your only response was a sneaky smile. A smile he would do anything for.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was distracted.”

“That’s okay,” you answered, softly. “I know our last case was tough and we jumped into the next one without having a chance to recover first.”

Aaron was grateful you assumed that the cause of his distraction was the last case and not your beautiful face, and even though you weren’t necessarily correct, his heart still melted at your comforting words.

“Yeah,” he simply said, and nodded.

“Well, you can always talk to me if you want. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

--

You wrapped up the case quickly so you flied back home that same night. Everyone on the jet was already asleep, except for the two of you.

Aaron was lucky enough to have been chosen as the one you sat next to, and his heart hadn’t calmed down for a second.

He felt embarrassed by the feeling of butterflies in his stomach just because his crush sat next to him, but he was glad his heart could still feel those emotions.

“Can I?” you sweet voice interrupted his thoughts.

As he turned to look at you, he saw you pointing at his shoulder; you were asking for permission to fall asleep on him. As if he’d ever say no to you.

“Of course you can,” he said, almost breathless.

“Thank you, beamy,” you grinned as you let your head fall on his shoulder, and it was impossible for him not to smile too.

His smile grew bigger when you turned your head slightly to look up at him.

“That’s why you’re my beam,” you whispered.

“What?”

“Everyone says you never smile, but I see you smile all the time. And when you do you’re just beaming. You light up the whole room, no joke.”

“Stop,” he laughed, unable to keep his cheeks from blushing.

“It’s true!”

“You’re usually the reason why,” he admitted.

His words got you shy, he could tell, but you wrapped your arm around him and snuggled closer in the crook of his neck. “That’s the biggest compliment I’ve ever been given,” you mumbled against his neck.

Aaron breathed out a laugh, and it was his turn to wrap his arms around you, making sure there was not even an inch of space between your bodies.

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch 🪐 #ask

[peachy-dove]

Shanks x Fem!Bunny Hybrid!Reader

CW:MDNI!! 18+ only!, 2k words, Bunny hybrid reader, fem reader, mentions of alcohol, cuss words, Bratty bunny, sitting in Yasopp’s lap, jealous shanks, light degradation, a little spanking, Use of cunt and cunny, DaddyDom shanks, mentions of: Good girl/Bunny/Bunny girl and more pet names, creampie, Oral (male receiving)

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @littlemochabunni for the idea! I’ve always wanted hybrid reader one piece fics, they're some of my favorites in other fandoms so here I am attempting to write one now!

The Redforce was docked on an island in the new world. Shanks and Benn had agreed that they deserved a break from the constant fights. And what else could keep up morale better than a party and some good booze!

The crew was lively and the sun was bright beaming down on the crew. The beach was beautiful and full of plenty of fruit and food from Lucky Roux to go around. Shanks was already drinking by the time the ship hit the shore with his cute little bunny (y/n) by his side. Or rather was by his side, she ran off with the rest of the crew to play in the water earlier. Her pink bikini fit her body just right, man was it a great sight to see. (Y/N) sauntered over with a twinkle in her eyes at the sight of her man.

“Come play with me shanks!” she pleaded with him pulling on his arm though not getting very far. He pulled his arm away and pet her head, feeling the fur of her ears softly graze his hand “Sorry bun, I’m trying to relax right now I’ll come play later, okay?” He told her, sitting back in his beach chair and sipping his drink. The bunny hybrid stomped her foot in frustration, puffing out her cheeks. “But I wanna play now!” 

Shanks sat up and gave her a stern look, “Don’t start being a brat little girl, I don't want to have to punish you on such a nice day would I?” You puff and give him a nod of your head saying ‘no’. He chuckles and kisses your forehead and rubs your lower back.

“I’ll come play with you later bunny, daddy just wants to relax for okay, so don’t get your bikini in a twist.” You hug him and nuzzle into his chest, still angry at him but nevertheless go and hang with the rest of the crew. But on your way you started to devise a plan to finally get shanks’ attention once and for all. If he wanted to see a brat you were going to show him one.

You prance your way over to your good friend and crewmate Yasopp, who was half drunk sitting with Bonk Punch and Monster. “Hey sopp! Watcha doing?” you ask, your ears perked up in interest. Trying to get his attention with your chest on display in your mini pink bikini. He looks down at you, his cheeks heating up from the sight of your luscious tits presented to him, he stammers a bit but responds quickly after,

“H-hey (y/n)! What brings you over here? Shouldn’t you be hanging with the boss?” you huff a little in remembering your boyfriend ignoring you but you straighten back up and bat your lashes at him. You poke out your ass as Yasopp continues to look at your wonderful body up and down as you talk. “Shanks will be fine! I just came to see my best friend!” you get closer to him as Monster and Bonk watch from the side. You climb into his lap and lick your lips seductively.

“You like talking to me don’t you Yasopp?” Yasopp starts to squirm in seat and is sweating nervously. “Bunny what are you doing?” Yasopp asks, his eyes skittishly looking around trying to make sure his captain wasn’t watching your bold display in front of not only him but other members of the crew as well. “What, you don't like being so close?” you lean in to him and stare deep into his eyes as he looks away hurriedly. You giggle from his demeanor.

You sit on his lap fully as he freezes for a moment and looks up from you. Yasopp felt his soul leave his body as the beach went quiet around him. You felt the shift in the beach air as Yasopp looked away from you. Your ears twitched from the sheer presence standing behind you, the hairs standing on the back of your neck making it hard to keep a calm facade. 

“Care to explain what you’re doing bunny girl?” A deep and gruff voice cutting the silence like a knife. You turn your head and see Shanks standing tall in front of you, he doesn’t look too happy right now. “Hey babe! I was just helping Yasopp, he had something caught in his eye” You lie to him, looking him into his eyes. His eyebrows furrowed from your response. “Is that so bunny? Did you have to help him by placing your cute little ass in his lap?” His patience is wearing thin with you but you can’t help but push him over the edge.

“I don’t know, I think it was pretty necessary, I was just helping him, I don't see the big deal, you're being dramatic.” You turn away from him and huff, and look back at Yassop to be the cherry on top of your little performance.

Shanks felt his eye twitch from your willingness to get under his skin, but it lit the fire under him to play your little game. In one fell swoop Shanks snatches you up from Yasopp’s lap and puts you over his shoulder, storming his way back to his cabin on the ship.

"Hey what are you doing Shanks, stop it!” you bang your fists on his sturdy back which didn’t do much. He gets to your shared cabin and puts you down on the bed on all fours. You look back at him as he looks at you hungrily. 

Suddenly Shanks brings his hand down on your barely covered ass, the sting making you jump and your tail to twitch. “Daddy!” you cry out from the spank. “I’m gonna break that little bunny cunt (y/n).” He lands two more strikes on your ass and grabs you by your hair to bring your back to his chest. “You wanted to act like a slut I’m gonna treat you like one little girl.”

He flips you over on your back and rips your bikini top and bottoms off of you. Shanks licks his lips and bites his lips at the sight of your fat tits and glistening wet cunt.He grabs your leg and pulls you to the edge of the bed. “You wanted my attention, now you’ve got it little bunny and since you’ve ruined such a nice day you’re gonna please me doll.” Shanks pulls down his pants and steps out of them, kicking them off to the side.

The sight of his hard cock making you drool and your horny bunny brain couldn’t take it. You got up from the bed and got on your knees in front of him. Shanks pets the top of your head, scratching the back of your bunny ears, “Good girl baby~ didn’t even need instructions, you know how Daddy likes it.”

You place small kisses all over his dick, licking and sucking all over his length. Remembering the taste of him all over your tongue. “Hurry up bunny,” He bucks his hips in warning. He’s still mad with you despite his earlier praise.

You take him into your mouth taking him as far as you could, shanks throws his head back in pleasure as you bob your head up and down. Your warm mouth is taking him so well, maybe if you kept this up he could reward such good behavior.

You continue to suck his thick cock, your only goal is making him cum down your throat. It’s almost as if your body was on autopilot, the familiar feeling of him, his body taking over your senses, wanting more of him. You start to take him deeper, wanting to please him and satisfy your craving for him. His cock hitting the back of your throat, you look up at him with your big doe eyes watching his eyes roll to the back of his head in ecstasy.

“Fuuuck~ that’s good bunny, keep making daddy feel good” he starts to buck his hips into your throat, as the pace of his breath picks up. His hand holds the back of your head urging to take him farther. You end up taking him down to the base, you feel shanks shiver and throb in your throat. His moans getting louder as he pushes his cock into your throat like his own personal fuck toy.

“Gonna cum bunny, take it all, take it all right now!” He spills his cum down your throat. You can feel his dick throb on your tongue as he lets every drop be taken in by you. You try to swallow all of it to please him. He slowly pulls his dick out of your throat, convulsing and panting heavily.

Shanks grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up for a sloppy kiss, drool and cum dripping down your mouth and tits as he kisses you hard. Shanks lays you down on the bed and rubs his thumb on your clit, making you moan into the kiss. He pulls back and looks at you with lustful eyes. “Such a good little angel you are, yet you always have to give me trouble, huh bun?” You moan in response just trying to get more stimulation from him. He chuckles and pulls away as you whine for him. 

Shanks pulls off his shirt and climbs back on top of you, pressing kisses to your face and the tops of your breasts. “You can keep being a good girl for me right honey?” He asks as he folds you in half, pressing your knees to your chest and lines up his cock to your went cunt. “Yes daddy I’ll be good! Just please fuck me~” You whine as he chuckles at you desperation. He slowly pushes into you as he watches the desperate look on your face as your cute cunny takes in his fat cock.

He swiftly pushes in bottoming out as his balls hit your ass. ‘OH DADDY~” you cry out as he starts a fast pace fucking deep into you. “There you go bunny, taking Daddy so well.” The sound of your wet pussy sounded off the wooden walls of the cabin as he fucked you in a mating press. Your cute tummy and tits jiggling from the force of his thrusts. Your eyes roll to the back and your moans echo out across the red force, everyone was sure to hear you even out on the beach. 

Shanks presses his weight on top of you as he takes his hand and grabs your chin to look at him. “Look at me little girl~” You try your best to focus on him and his eyes but with the way he was pounding you it was hard to even hear him right now but you managed to just for a split second. “You gonna make a mess for me sweetheart?” 

He could tell from the way your cunt was gushing around his dick that you were close. The tight fluttering around his cock like a vice made his damn near delirious.’y-yes daddy i’m gonna cum please let me cum daddy!” you plead as he looks at the slutty expression you were making on your face. “Then go ahead cum for me my good bunny” Shanks reaches between your connected bodies and rubs your swollen wet clit which makes you explode all over his cock and lower abdomen. 

You yell out his name in ecstasy as you spasm around his cock. As you come down from your high Shanks pulls out and swiftly turns you over. He presses your face into the pillows and lifts your hips and pushes right back in.

“Shanks!?” you cry out as he fills you so well, your pussy still sensitive from your orgasm not even minutes ago. “You thought I was done with you slut?” He picks up his speed and angles his hips to press into your spot inside you. 

Shanks pounds into your wet pussy, his hips slamming into yours as the sound of your ass reverberates off the walls.”Don’t you EVER disrespect me like that again princess, do you hear me?” You keep moaning and don’t respond to him so he thrusts into you hard with emphasis on each word, “I said. Do. You. Hear. ME!” He hits your cervix as you moan out in response, “YES, yes daddy I won’t do it again i promise I’ll be good!” He grabs your bunny tail and tugs at it in punishment. “I know you won't, sweetheart, I won’t be as nice next time~” Shanks speeds up as he feels your sweet pussy juices drip down his balls. 

All you can do is take it all as he fucks your brain into mush, you couldn’t try to think if you wanted to. From his heavy cock dragging deliciously against your sensitive walls. You could feel your release coming again as he pummeled your pussy.

“Gonna cum daddy! May I please cum?” You moan into the pillows as your release gets closer and closer. Shanks keeps fucking directly into your cervix feeling your tightness wrapped around him he wasn’t gonna last too much longer either. “Go ahead sweetness! Cum, make a mess!” Shanks pumps into you one last time as you both cum together.

Your legs finally give out from under you as shanks hold you to keep you from falling. He slowly comes down from his high and kisses your back as he pulls and lays you both down. 

Shanks pulls you close as you continue to cool down. “I love you little bunny~” He kisses your forehead and caresses your ears and you nuzzle into his chest. Craving his body to be close after such an intense afternoon. ‘I love you too daddy~” You fall asleep in his hold as you both bask in each other's presence.

Meanwhile…

“The boss sure went hard on little ‘ol (y/n),” Lucky Roux said as he ate at a table on the beach with Beckman and Yasopp. “Poor bunny probably won’t be able to sit properly for a while knowing how he gets.” Benn chuckles as he blows smoke from his cigarette thinking of the poor girl pouting from her hurt bottom.

“More like Poor Yasopp when the boss gets a hold of ‘im!” Lime juice pipes in as the crew laughs together. “Aw shit I'm screwed!” Yasopp panics knowing that shanks was gonna kill him no matter what he said!

#red haired shanks #Akagami no Shanks #shanks x reader #shanks <3 #one piece #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x hybrid!reader #hybrid reader #x reader #i think i did pretty good! #hope yall like it #peachh works💗🍑

[afictionalwhor3]

Speechless

A/N: I fear I may be back in my top gun maverick era. I wanna work on being more consistent but no promises. I'm pretty sure this would be considered smut with plot so enjoy sexies :).

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+ minors do not interact), oral m!receiving, unprotected pinv, praise/degradation, dirty talk

----------------------------------------------------

"Y/N!" Bradley yells up the stairs for you checking his watch for the thousandth time. You had so many qualities he admired. How loving you were, your intelligence, your ability to reassure him when he didn't even know he needed it. However, timeliness was not on your tool belts of assets. A trait that drove perfectionist always on time Bradley insane to no extent. And if you took any longer the two of you would officially be late to Coyote's wedding. "If you aren't down here in the next two minutes I am leaving without you!" He yells up the stairs.

"Oh stop it no you're not. Don't get your panties in a bunch it takes a lady a while to look good" You say walking downstairs. At the sound of your heels clicking down the stairs, Bradley looks up to say something smart in reply but the words get lodged in his throat. You looked absolutely enchanting. The color of the dress not only complimented your skin, but it hugged you in all the perfect places like it was made just for you. The slit showed off your perfect legs while the neckline left plenty to the imagination. You walked over to him fixing his tie and brushing off the shoulders of his suit "Cat got your tongue?" You ask with a smirk wrapping your arms around his neck. Finally getting some sense about himself Rooster places his hands on your hips looking at you.

"No sorry I just was not expecting all of this," He says making you smile and kiss his still-shocked face.

"When my date looks this good it's only right I match it." You reply and it's Rooster's turn to smirk. He takes one of your hands in his and makes you do a spin as you laugh softly. He whistles lowly before pulling you in close to his body.

"I say wedding be damned, we stay here tonight and I ravage you." Bradley whispers and you smirk placing a hand on his chest.

"Hold your horses there lieutenant. Weren't you the one just yelling about us being late and leaving me? And if you think I just spent hours getting myself together so we could not go out? You are very very sadly mistaken. Maybe if you play your cards the right way you can get lucky tonight," You wink giving him another kiss before walking away to grab your purse and the gift. "Well come on Bradshaw we are going to be late," You say with a smirk as you start walking outside to the car. Bradley can't do anything besides shake his head before quickly locking the house up and following you.

~ Coyote's wedding ceremony was beautiful. Weddings always made you cry and Rooster wouldn't admit it but seeing some of his closest friends get married invoked some sensitive emotions in himself as well. He spent a large part of the ceremony fidgeting with the ring on your finger waiting, rather impatiently, for the day it's the two of you up there promising your souls to each other for the rest of your lives. Now the two of you resided at the wedding reception which lasted late into the night. Both you and Rooster, as well as the other Top Gun crew, were more than a few drinks in. After Bradley had to help Bob get into an Uber with Phoenix you both decided to call it a night getting an Uber back to your respective hotel suite.

Getting back to your room you open the door heading right for the king-size bed so you could collapse onto it. "Roos can you take my shoes off please? I'm pretty sure I'm going to have bunions after all the dancing I did tonight" You say as Rooster smiles and takes his suit jacket off throwing it on the back of a nearby chair. He gets on his knees in front of you kissing the inside of both your legs before he gets to work on your heels.

"I told you that you should've taken these off a lot sooner than you did. And I offered to carry you multiple times, you know I don't care" He says gently massaging your foot after he manages to get the shoe off. You moan softly at how good it feels.

"Yeah I know but I hate giving you the benefit of being right," You say stubbornly making Bradley smile. After your second foot is taken care of Bradley begins to kiss up your body slowly. When he gets to the beginning of your slit he looks into your eyes his pupils blown from lust. Despite what your head, and pussy, are telling you you push his head away. "I have to go the bathroom," You announce, and before Rooster can say anything else you run into the bathroom. Somewhat stunned Rooster stays there for a few seconds before sighing and standing up assuming you just aren't up for it tonight. He sits on the bed taking his shoes and socks off before he stands up to take off his cuff links and tie. In the process of unbuttoning his shirt, he hears the bathroom door open and turns to look at you and once again he is left speechless.

Before him you stand in a lingerie set he has never seen before. The sheer material of most of it does little to conceal Rooster's favorite parts of you. You walk over to him slowly making sure to sway your hips a little extra. When you finally reach him you take his shirt out of his hands and begin undoing the rest of the buttons. You look at him with a smirk on your face,

"Lieutenant, to have you speechless not once but twice tonight. That has to be a new record for me" You say. When you're done with his shirt you grab him by his belt and guide him until he falls on the bed. Once again trying to gather his bearings Bradley says,

"When you'd g-get this set?" He asks and you can't help but chuckle as you sink to your knees before him.

"Real smooth Bradshaw. Real smooth" You say smiling as you can see Rooster's face start to turn red. You continue your previous actions unbuckling his belt and with his help getting his pants off. Next is rubbing your hand gently over his bulge gauging his reactions. After a while you start to apply more pressure and move a little bit faster before Rooster grabs your wrist, "If you keep going I'm going to bust in my pants like some horny teenager" He says making you smirk.

"So what would you like from me Bradley? My mouth?" You ask kissing over his bulge as Bradley whimpers and nods his head.

"Fuck yes baby please," He says making you smirk. It wasn't often you got Bradley to submit to you like this, always having an incessant need to be in control. So, when you could get him like this it felt awfully good. You take his boxers off exposing his hard and angry length. You kiss his tip making him whimper again,

"Awe it's okay baby. I'm gonna take care of it." You promise before slowly taking his length in your mouth. Rooster throws his head back moaning out for you. You watch as his fists grip the sheets tightly the deeper you go onto his cock. After spending a few minutes bobbing up and down on his cock, you come up for air spitting on his cock and using one hand to stroke it. The other only teased his balls.

"Y/n fuck yes. Fuck you're taking care of my cock baby." He says making you smirk. He sits up on his elbows so he can admire your work and your own mouth waters at his chiseled physique. The man had to have been chiseled by the gods the way you could count each muscle on his body. Bradley noticed you staring and began flexing subtly for you. There was a moment when you were pretty sure you were dripping onto the sheets. You take his cock back into your mouth and at the feeling of how wet your pussy is you sneak a hand down to touch yourself over your panties. "Fuck you look so hot playing with yourself right now. How'd I get so fucking lucky?" He asks in between moans making you smile.

Relaxing your throat to go deep on his cock as your hand takes a more firm grip on his balls massaging them. After only a few seconds Rooster pulls you off him and pulls you up to meet him. "If you kept going with that I would've busted everywhere and I need to cum in your pussy" Rooster says making you smirk. You press your lips to his letting your hands wander over his body while Rooster sits up to take the rest of his shirt off and let his hands roam the familiar planes of your body.

He pulls away from the kiss to lay kisses on your neck and expertly takes your bra off tossing it somewhere in the room. He brings your boob into his mouth swirling his tongue around your nipple and using his free hand to play with the other one before he switches sides. You push him onto his back after a few moments "Let's make tonight about you baby" You say taking your panties off and straddling his length. You give him a few courtesy pumps before lining yourself up and slowly sliding on. Rooster's hands fly to your waist and guide you down. You fall forward bracing yourself against his chest. You bite your lip willing yourself to get adjusted to him. No matter how many times the two of you had sex, every time he entered you it was like the first time all over again. When you were ready Rooster began to guide you up and down on his cock, both your moans mixing with each other. Willing yourself to go faster you whined as it wasn't enough and before you even had to say anything Rooster pulled you into himself and began to fuck up into you.

"Bradley! Oh my god! That's my fucking g-spot. Shit you're fucking pounding it!" You moan loudly while Rooster applies a few slaps to your ass making you moan even louder.

"You're so fucking sexy. Wearing that slutty fucking lingerie for me. Had that on all night knowing we'd come back here and I'd fuck you. Such a perfect slut for me" Rooster says turning your face to kiss his passionately all teeth and tongue.

Before you can process what's happening Rooster is pulling out of you to flip you on your stomach helping you to all fours. Lining himself up once again he pounds right into you this time making you arch over. "Fuck!" You moan loudly. Looking down at you Rooster swears itself enough to make him bust right there. He leans over to kiss your shoulder and snake his hand around your body to play with your clit.

"I need you to cum for me baby cause I'm about to blow a loud so deep in your pussy. Come on be a good girl for me cum on my cock. My good little whore there you go baby" He says and every word that comes out his mouth has your pussy spasming until your basically yelling while you cum harder than you think you ever have. Fucking you through your high the spasms of your pussy finally push Rooster over the edge as he fills your pussy up. His body lays on tops of yours while you try to catch your breath and make sense of what just happened.

After a few minutes pass Rooster slowly and gently pulls out of you making you whine. He goes to get a washcloth out the bathroom running it under warm water before he comes back and cleans you up gently while you whimper at how sensitive your pussy feels. Rooster goes back into the bathroom to clean himself up before he comes back to you helping you onto your back and getting into bed. You immediately snuggle into him while he wraps his strong arms around you. You bury your head in his neck taking in his scent. Rooster traces aimless shapes along your back and hip "I didn't go too hard at the end there right?" He asks while you shake your head and press a kiss to his jaw.

"No it was just right." You say already feeling your body becoming heavy with sleep.

"That's alright baby get your sleep because after I feed you tomorrow morning I have a few things to get you back for. You left me speechless twice tonight which warrants at least four orgasms. At least" He says as your mouth hangs open and he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead as if the filthiest words didn't just come out of his mouth.

"I love you baby. Get some sleep you're definitely going to need it"

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fandom #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster smut #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x black!reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x black!reader

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR STARRY-EYED SOULMATES *  assorted romantic dialogue, adjust as necessary

i feel drawn to you in ways i can't explain.

you're the one. do you hear me? you're it. you're the only one i want for the rest of my life.

you are the most beautiful person i have ever known in my life, and i'm madly in love with you.

i love you entirely. i love you completely.

i'll be here for you forever. i'll never leave your side.

do you believe we were made for each other?

i can't fathom a world without you. i never want to know what that looks like.

so this is what it feels like? true love?

we can't be apart. we can't exist without each other.

you came into my life and changed everything. i'm different now. better. you make me better.

i feel so overwhelmingly lucky to know you and to have you.

it's like we were made for each other.

from the very first moment i saw you, i knew. i knew you were the one.

do you believe in love at first sight?

i hope it always feels like this.

you have become everything to me. you are the most important thing in my whole life.

i'm so deeply in love with you.

i never believed in love until i met you. this made it real for me.

everything i've ever done, everything i've ever gone through... it was worth it. it was worth it to find you.

i waited a lifetime to find you. i'd wait a thousand lifetimes more.

the universe conspired to bring us together. i believe that.

you don't know what you do to me.

i crave the taste of your mouth like nothing else on earth. i need your kiss.

i swear to you right now, i'm going to marry you someday.

my atoms know your atoms. my body needs your body.

there's nothing i want more than to spend the rest of my life by your side, whatever it takes.

i admire the utter strength of you. you never fail to blow me away.

nothing will take me from you. do you understand?

i will never leave your side. i am meant for you. i belong to you.

every time you look at me, i lose control of my body, my lungs... i can't breathe. i can't think. i can't function.

come any closer, and i swear... i'll love you for the rest of my life.

not even death can take you from me.

stay close to me. hold my hand. cling to me.

i think i was created with you in mind.

you are simply the most beautiful person i have ever known. i can't possibly live without you.

before i met you, i never believed in a one true love. you changed that. you changed everything.

i'm speechless. you're remarkable.

i'm drawn to you. i've been drawn to you since the day we met.

there's not a single part of you i don't love with all my heart and soul.

you're my other half. my better half. i couldn't do this without you.

there aren't enough words in the english language to explain how deeply i love you.

#romantic prompts #💚 💚 💚 #rp starters #rp memes #rp prompt #rp meme #rp musings #roleplay inbox prompts #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #roleplay meme #askbox meme #ask memes #rp asks #ask meme #inbox prompts #inbox prompt #rp inbox meme #inbox meme #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter prompt #writing prompt #mcflymemes #romance prompt #romance meme #love prompts #love memes #soulmate prompts

[spidey-x-male-reader]

HOBIE WITH A FTM READER FEELING DYSPHORIC. (plsplshearmeout

Pairing: Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk) x trans male!reader

Requested: yes / no

Warnings: gender dysphoria

A/N: The Gender dysphoria is only very briefly actually described but I feel like mentioning that it's purely based on my experience and might not be the same for everyone

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

MASTERLIST

"Love? Are you in here?" Hobie knocked gently on your bedroom door before slowly opening it. The room was dimly lit, and you could barely be seen under the layers of blankets that engulfed you. You curled up tighter, seeking solace in the warmth and darkness.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Hobie's voice carried a mix of amusement and concern. He approached the bed and sat down on the edge, his eyes fixed on your huddled form. He respected your desire for silence, but he couldn't bear to leave you alone in such a state.

You mumbled from beneath the blanket, "Don't wanna talk about it."

Hobie let out a soft hum and waited patiently. He knew that sometimes you just needed silence. After a while, you rolled onto your back, allowing yourself to look at him again.

"How about now?" he asked, his eyes filled with gentle understanding.

"I don't know..." You gave a small shrug. "It's just... it just sounds stupid."

"Nothing you say sounds stupid, love." Hobie reached out, lightly rubbing your shoulder. "You know I've never judged you for anything."

"Yeah, I know." You sighed, a hint of frustration tingeing your voice. "I just... hate how I am. I hate how I look. Every time I see myself in the mirror, it's like my own skin doesn't belong to me. It sounds so silly, but I can't help it." A quiet sob escaped you, and you instinctively hugged yourself, seeking comfort in your own embrace.

"Oh, Darling..." Hobie's voice grew softer, an unwavering tenderness in his tone. It was the way he always spoke to you, devoid of any kind of judgement. That was why you loved him. "Is it alright if I hug you?"

You studied his expression for a few fleeting moments before nodding slowly.

Without hesitation, Hobie laid down beside you, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. He held you close to his chest, creating a safe space within his arms.

"You're beautiful, you know?" His whisper tickled your ear, carrying a sincerity that made your heart flutter. "No matter how you look. And I will always love you, okay? You're perfect."

"Hobie..." Your voice wavered with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

"No. I don't want to hear it, love." Hobie's words flowed softly, punctuated by gentle kisses on the side of your head. "You're perfect just the way you are, in my eyes. You'll be alright. And by the way, I happen to know that my boyfriend is absolutely handsome and perfect and I’m so lucky to have him." He chuckled, a soothing sound that warmed your soul. "I love you so much."

#male reader #spiderman reader #hobie brown #spiderman #marvel #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse spoilers #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown headcanon #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman headcanon #spiderman x male reader #spiderman x reader #marvel imagine #marvel headcanon #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse x male reader #spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse imagine #across the spiderverse headcanon #across the spiderverse x male reader #across the spiderverse x reader #pride #gay

[mostlybats-partiallyrats]

So umm... I felt like writing a little fairytale-type story. Something short but impactful.

I wrote this all in one sitting, very late at night. So I hope you like it:

There was a girl who fell in love with death. On the night her mother's illness finally took her, the girl saw the mysterious figure sneak in through the window. And as a chilling breeze swept through the room, she gazed upon death's looming figure with awe and adoration.

"Young lady," said death, "I am here to collect your mother's immortal soul. Surely I do not deserve to be looked upon with such love?"

The girl merely smiled and said, "Maybe so, but I have never seen such beauty before. Surely someone so beautiful is deserving of love?"

But death was not beautiful. Not beautiful at all. And yet...

Death took pity on the girl. If she spent her whole life chasing him, then she would waste away, until it was her turn to pass away, like her mother before her. So death made her a promise.

"I cannot control your heart, my lady, that much is beyond my power. But you must live your life, and once a year on this date, I shall return to you, and show you the wonders I have seen."

The girl accepted the offer, overjoyed at the prospect. So, for the remainder of the year she continued her life as if nothing had changed. And when death returned as promised, she was waiting for him.

And so death enacted his plan. He showed her the most terrifying, tragic, and gruesome deaths he had ever encountered; as if the girl were experiencing them herself. Surely, thought death, this would restore her fear, and he could return to his work. The girl took a steadying breath. She wiped the tears from her eyes. And she embraced death, warmly.

"Thank you," she said, "I have never known such thrill and exhilaration, such melancholy, such eye-opening despair. You have shown me feelings deeper than I have ever felt before! How lucky I am to have such a generous love!"

Death was mortified, embarrassed. But what could he say? How rude it would be to tell the girl she was wrong.

"You are most welcome," said death, "and I look forward to our next meeting."

And so it was. Every year the girl grew more and more into a strong and kind woman; and every year death showed her his worst. She thanked him, and they parted. On the fifth year, death floated into her home on the eve of her cousin's wedding. As he rode the biting cold into her room, she turned to meet him, and what a sight she was...

The moon illuminated her hair, black as night. Her dress was as scarlet as a man's last drop of blood. She held a bouquet of flowers. Death had never before beheld such beauty.

"Death!" She said, cheerfully greeting him as an old friend, "I wasn't sure what your favourite flower was, so I just got one of everything that was in season!"

Death had never been given flowers before, and in so many vivid colours. When he reached for the bouquet, however, every last bloom withered and died. The bouquet crumbled between his fingers.

"Oh, I see..." Said the girl, disappointment marring her beautiful face for just a moment.

"It's alright," said death, looking into her eyes, into her very soul, "the most beautiful things in the world are fragile. They do not last forever."

When death finished showing her his worst, he helped to dry the girl's tears.

"Thank you," said the woman, "how lucky I am, to have such a generous love."

"You are most welcome," said death, "I shall count the days until our next meeting."

On another year, when death entered the her home, the woman was frantic. She ran ragged all about her bedroom, and when she heard death enter, she slammed something shut.

"What are you hiding, my lady?" Said death.

"Nothing," she insisted, "nothing at all! I would never hide something from you!"

Death had seen this coming.

Many-a-mortal had tried to trick him in his time, to mislead him, to stab him in the back. But in all his millennia, none had stooped so low as to first attempt to gain his trust.

Death was ruthless in the visions he showed the woman, the things he forced her to witness, the choices he had her make. He showed her the pinnacle of humanity's evil, the very worst of death.

Until finally, he dangled the woman from the edge of the world's tallest cliff, just beyond which was a sheer drop into the roiling ocean below. He asked her a question.

"Do you fear me, mortal? Do you finally fear me now? Are you afraid of death?"

Darkness fell over the cliff, and the wind lashed icy cold at the woman's skin, as she teetered on the precipice between being, and not.

"Of course I do!" the woman cried, brokenly.

With a crack like lightning, they were back in the woman's home. Where death cast her to the floor, and she crumpled into a terrified heap.

"Then you have learned your lesson. No one can deceive death."

"Deceive you?," Cried the woman, "when did I ever deceive you!"

Death was enraged.

"The petty hubris of man! Even now you feign innocence! You were hiding something when I arrived, but you cannot fool me! Many have tried, and failed, to assassinate me, trick me into a deal, a game, all to gain immortality! Ha! The fools knew not of what they asked!"

The woman was silent, sullen. From her back pocket, she pulled out a carved wooden box, and stretched out her hand.

"Take it," she said, and death snatched it from her grip, "You would like to know what I was hiding? Open it."

Death opened the box, expecting to find a dagger, or a neatly folded net, or a vial of poison.

It was a hyacinth flower. But it was not as it seemed. When death picked it up, it did not whither and die. Instead, it reflected the light of the slowly rising sun, creating dancing patterns of colourful light.

It was made of glass.

"It's still fragile," said the woman, "and I doubt it will last forever either. I still do not know your favourite flower. But hyacinths were my mother's. Do you know the story of Hyacinthus?"

Death knew every story ever told, for he was eternal.

"No," said death, "would you kindly tell it to me?"

And so the woman told death the story of the prince Hyacinthus, who was the love of the Greek god Apollo. Of how, jealous of Apollo, and wanting the prince for himself, Zephyr the West Wind killed the prince. Apollo, grief-stricken, holding the dying prince in his arms, turned him into a flower.

A hyacinth.

The woman sighed, and death noticed for the first time, that one of her hairs was not black. It was grey.

"I am sorry that you so often see the worst of humanity," she said, "but you have to understand, you must be willing to trust others. Or else, how could anyone ever hope to prove themselves good to you?"

Death had never shed a tear before that day.

"My lady," he asked, "may I give you a gift as well?"

"Of course, my darling," said the woman.

Death held her as gently as he held the glass flower she had given to him. And he kissed the woman, on that glorious morning.

"There now," said death, "I have given you my blessing. Now through your every misfortune, every tragedy, every impromptu fit of despair; know that I am beside you. Know how much I love you."

The woman held him tightly, and wetted his robe with tears. "Thank you," she said, "how lucky I am, to have such a generous love."

"You are most welcome," said death, "I shall count your every breath until next we meet."

The years went by, and death visited the woman for each of them. They made numerous memories together, joyous, miserable, and all that rests gently, quietly, in between. The woman lived a full and wonderful life, until she was old and grey.

Death, cloaked as always in shadow, riding a frigid gust of wind, floated into the woman's window.

"Death, my darling, you're early," said the woman.

"I know," said death.

"Ah," said the woman, "I see."

"My lady, my love," said death, "before I do this, I must ask of you, one question. How was it that you saw beauty in me, on the night I took your mother's soul? And how was it, then, that I could never scare you away with my visions?"

"Ah," said the woman, "I was wondering when you were going to ask me that. You see, death, everyone was so afraid, when mother became ill. Afraid she would suffer, afraid we would become destitute, afraid for father, afraid she would be damned to hell. Do you know what I was afraid of?"

"What?" Said death.

"That when she died, when that time came, that she would be all alone. You have seen so much cruelty, death my darling. So many horrid people, so many horrid fates. You have shown me them all. Yes, it has made you slow to trust, but frankly I was surprised you had any light left in you at all. To see all of that, to endure it, for as long as life has existed, and still have kindness in your heart - pity, for the girl who fell in love with death - that is beautiful."

Death sighed fondly for his love. His mortal love.

"Are you afraid, my love? Do you fear your death?"

"Of course I do, my darling," she said, "what person does not? But I do not fear you. You want to know why you could never scare me away? Because for every death you showed me, no matter how terrifying, how gruesome, how horribly tragic; you were right by their side. Lighting the way in the dark. You were there to guide every last poor and wayward soul to the next world.

Of course I am afraid of dying, my darling, but that is why I am so glad to have you here with me. To hold my hand. To be my light in the dark."

And so death took her hands, gnarled and marked with age, with experience, with life.

"Thank you" said death, "How lucky I am, to have such a generous love."

#my post #writing tag #writing #death #grief #stories #story #i hope you liked it💛

[peterfankoffski]

okay okay hear me out. hatchetfield/ever after high au

i maaaaaayyy have been thinking about this since. the day i saw abstinence camp. in my defense dexven and lautski are the same ship and nobody likes either of these things more than me (/j) so like. rundown of ideas i had (and one piece of inspo from a gc i'm in)

Stephanie Lauter, daughter of the Evil King: Yeah, I'm just fully reusing Raven's backstory here. Steph's born into wickedness and expected to one day inherit her father's throne and oppress her people and possibly curse the future Snow White. Which earns her respectful fear from her fellow "evil" peers, fearful respect from most of her classmates, and dread from herself, because she doesn't want to be anything like her dad, for better or for worse, even if it means risking going poof. Doesn't really help she's just not a good student in the classes assigned to her and her father keeps telling her she'll be a terrible Evil Queen anyway. Would absolutely prefer to write her own destiny. Her current plans involve doing fuck-all as an adult.

Peter Spankoffski, son of one of the Generic Charming Families: More specifically, the ones from Beauty and the Beast. One problem. He wasn't exactly planned. His big brother has already lived out being the beast and a noble lady named Jenny broke Ted's curse yeeeeaaarrrs ago, so Pete's already seen what should be his story play out in real time. And given the assumption that Ted and Jenny's kid would take on one of their roles, Pete's not sure he even has a destiny. Pretty much ostracized by most of his peers for so obviously not having a destiny. He's the only non-villian not inherently scared of Steph, and when they talk it's all like "god, you're so lucky your story isn't a shitshow" "at least you have a story" and eventually they kinda further break destiny by dating because they are literally just Raven and Dexter in another font.

Ruth Fleming, daughter of The Mad Hatter: @mythuzalasheir3 suggested this one to me and I was so inclined to agree. Ruth is so Wonderlandian to me. She's theatrical, she's eccentric and not willing to turn it down, will just say what's on her mind as she sees it. Taking a bit from the books canon, she does sorta resent Steph at first for her father going off-book and poisoning Wonderlandian magic, but after Pete urges her to actually talk to her as they start hanging out more, she sees Steph isn't as scary as she thought and very quickly gets comfortable turning up her madness and speaking Riddlish around her like she does with her other friends. Speaking of which.

Richie Lipschitz, son of the Wizard of Oz: Yes. I really am making Pete the odd one out. Ruth is Wonderlandian, Richie is an (honorary) Ozian. Sue me. This basically stems from how Richie was in charge of taping the prank in the Waylons/putting on the music, so knowing he has special effects know-how, he is going to have a blast doing the hologram head thing in the Emerald City for a few decades. He also plans on introducing pop culture stuff to Oz, too, not just more science. Nerd. I think he's iconic for it.

(Side note: neither Ruth nor Richie can believe that they're just casually best friends with a prince, even though Pete really doesn't want it to be a big deal).

Grace Chasity, daughter of the Temple Woman from The Little Mermaid: Right. History time. If you're not familiar with the original version of TLM, after the mermaid brings the prince back to shore, a girl from a Christian monastery finds the prince, and he believes she saved him instead of the mermaid. And also she and the prince are married by the end. I chose this fully because she's very proud of the fact she already has an immortal soul, and doesn't have to do anything for a happily ever after other than be in the right place at the right time. She does not give a damn about who her prince is as long as they stick to the script. Basically, she's a Royal out of necessity more than anything.

Max Jagerman, son of another Charming Clan: More specifically, he's destined to be the Rapunzel's prince. He's in with Steph because he thinks it's a good idea to be on the good side of all royals in his class. But not Storiless Spankoffski. He does NOT fraternize with people whose existence could poof away a whole story. For as much as he tries to fit the example of Perfect Royals Accepting Their Destiny, he does still have a target of affection not in his story: Grace. Being much more stereotypically Royal than him, she keeps rejecting him due to not being interested and not even part of his story. Doesn't stop him from trying.

The Lords in Black, the heads of Ever After High: Everyone has a destiny. They're here to run the school and enforce them, and also dictate the destinies of the more ambiguous cases like Charming Number Twenty-Seven or "how do we find a replacement for a character who is dead." They say there's a spider in the basement but don't even worry about it, they'll take care of it eventually.

Webby, the Weaver in the Basement: Basically taking the place of Giles Grimm, her brothers have let her have less and less involvement with destinies over the years, so she's spinning up happier endings that hopefully won't go poof in solitude. Would definitely encourage Steph to follow her heart instead of her destiny.

Henery Hidgens as the Magic Botany teacher, and also former Jack of Jack the Giant Slayer fame: man I just think this would be funny

#i spent like. an hour typing this #team starkid #starkid #hatchetfield #hatchetverse #steph lauter #stephanie lauter #peter spankoffski #pete spankoffski #ruth fleming #richie lipschitz #grace chasity #max jagerman #lords in black #webby #eah #ever after high #eah au #<- in case i do more w this there's the tag #lautski

[sofasoap]

Little first meet

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

Summary: How a mohawk Scottish man meet his bonnie bear

Warning : M rating. use of alcohol. flirting. A/N: Three glasses of wine in, half asleep I just want to spew their awkward first meeting out.

Part 7 of Little Bear series Masterlist

“Hello bonnie, are you new here?”

Glancing to the left, and to the right.  There’s no one else sitting beside you. Is he talking to you?? There must be some mistake. Surely this handsome stranger with a very exaggerated mohawk hair right in front of you isn’t trying to start a conversation with you. Or God forbid, trying to flirt with you????

“... You talking to me?” you asked in a weak voice. 

He chuckled as he flashes you a wide toothy smile, “Who else would it be? The most beautiful person in the whole pub.” gesturing to the stool beside you, “Mind if I take a seat?”

“Um, sure?”  You can feel the tip of your ears starting to burn. Fidgeting with the pint of beer in your hand, your mind started racing. Maybe he is just bored, or maybe he had a bet with his friend on how many people they can chat up with tonight in this pub.

This is the first time you left your hometown. First time in a brand new environment and you are a nervous wreck. 

You only moved to Credenhill a few weeks ago after getting a new job with a civilian company that has connections to the military that is stationed in the area. 

You have thought deep and hard before deciding to make that huge leap in your life, after seeing all your friends moving on with their life, achieving so much. And there you are, still living in your comfort zone. 

Tonight, you decided to check out the local pub that your new workmate had suggested with a good atmosphere and food. You had nothing better to do anyway on a Friday night.

“Maybe you will get lucky and some soldiers will hit on you!” They joke. “I had quite a bit of luck meeting some quite sexy soldiers. And I can assure you they have pretty good … stamina.” Winking and giggling away as you lower your head in embarrassment. 

Awkward silent bubble surrounded both of you as the bolstering noise of drunken pub goers around you continued.  You never had anyone hitting you before (He is flirting with you, right?)  What do you do in this situation? Who should start a conversation? Is it proper etiquette to look into their eyes or should you look away?

As your brain runs through all the possibilities and solutions, the mohawk man broke the silence and restart the conversation.

“So, I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you here for a visit or?? I don’t imagine anyone will be here for sightseeing purposes.” Taking a sip from his own beer, he asked. “And it doesn’t look like you are waiting for anyone to join you either.” 

Good observant skill, you noted. “Um.I just moved here. Few weeks ago.” Shyly taking a peek at him as you bring your glass up for a sip for a drink, you realise you have a set of steel blue eyes. Beautiful steel blue eyes, drawing you deeper into his soul. 

Great, now you are gawking on him. 

His eyes brighten up as soon as you mention you are a new resident here.

“Well I hope you are settling in well. I must apologise that this little village has nothing to offer apart from basic amenities and boring soldiers.” he chuckles. 

“ And you are one of them?” you blurted out as your eyes caught a glimpse of his dog chain in his half buttoned up shirt. You slapped your mouth as soon as the sentence left your mouth. 

“Sorry. Not meaning to be so rude..” Embarrassment and anxiety starts bubbling up. That is one thing you are not good with. Socialisation. It’s either you don’t know how to carry on a conversation or letting your mouth run without thinking. Way to make a good impression with people. You thought.

Mohawk stranger laughed. “ I am indeed one of them. One of the best at boring your brains out. .” he smirked, “Although I am not as boring as my team mate Ghost.” 

“Ghost?” “Not his real name. That’s his call sign. He usually bored us to death with his dad jokes. Or our Captain. Nagging non-top most times like a mother hen. Don’t get me started on Gaz. He is too stiff for his own good sometimes.” 

“They sound like very interesting people.” You let out a little laugh. 

“Depending how you look at it.” He smiled. Pausing slightly as he thought for a second, “If you like, I can introduce them to you. Next time.” He looked at you in earnest. 

“Next time?” Your eyebrows arched up. There’s next time?

“Only if you want, bonnie.” smiling softly, “You look like you need some friends.” Noticing you stiffening, he winced as he straightened his back slightly. “Sorry. I meant no offence with that. I just thought you might want to make new friends in this new place.” 

You fidget in your seat even more. Can you really trust this man that you only just met tonight? 

And what is that good old warning people kept saying to you, never get involved with military personnel. They will surely break your heart. 

Still noticing your hesitation and discomfort, he hastily added, “If it makes you feel more comfortable, my sister is visiting soon. I can bring her along too. She is the one who usually keeps us all in check. Also to keep my blabbering mouth shut as well.” 

“But.......” 

“But?”

“... I don’t even know your name.”

Mohawk man opened his mouth for a second and closed before he slapped himself in the forehead. 

“Where are my manners? Let’s start again.” holding his hands out,

“John MacTavish. But people either call me Johnny or Soap.”

You later find out Johnny isn’t usually the type to introduce his close knit group right from get go. 

“I fell hard for you that day, Bonnie bear. Something in my heart tells me I must approach that lonely bonnie that is sitting in the corner all by herself and woo her with all my might.”

“Well luckily you didn’t use any of your lame pick up lines..”

“Aww Bonnie bear. I am sure you will still fall for the charming me nevertheless.”

“Sure sure… “

Taglist: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator

@random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @roosterr @brewed-pangolin @groguspicklejar

#johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x fem reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish imagine #johnny soap mactavish xf!reader #johnny soap mactavish x you #Little bear series #sofasoap writes #call of duty #johnny mactavish #john mactavish fluff #johnny soap mactavish x female!reader #johnny soap mactavish fluff #comfort fic

[quarantineddreamer]

✨ B's RebelCaptain Rec List ✨

Apologies in advance as I have NO DOUBT that I missed including some very talented individuals and their works in this list. (This is by no means comprehensive.)

I haven't been here all that long, but wow--since day one I've been blown away by the talent in this fandom and the dedication of all the creators.

So, thank you lovely souls for sharing your beautiful art (in all its many forms) for us to enjoy--and thank you RC community as a whole for being so lovely and welcoming this past year! I am truly grateful to be screaming/crying/rewriting canon with you 💖

Give Up the Ghost by @frostbitepandaaaaa

I mean...what can I say? I love all of Frost's writing, but this was the first work I ever read of hers and it is devastating and gorgeous and will make you lose your mind. I remember the first time I read it just...lingering on certain sentences because I was in awe of how beautiful they were. Just read it. Trust me. (And then check out her WIP 12 Days afterwards!)

threshold by @astromechs

Another writer whose works I love. (Okay, that's pretty much everyone on this list--the RC fandom is so frickin talented). But for me, this fic in particular stands out as one that gives incredible insight into Cassian's character--and an adorable story overall. Heartfelt and beautiful.

built on hope by @luciechat

I am particularly obsessed with chapter 3 of this collection of prompt-writes Getting Back Together (in the Cold). Lucie paints the picture so clearly and the tension throughout is delicious. Highly recommend reading this RC Hoth fic--and Lucie's other amazing works!

we were never going to make it by @fulcrumstardust

Okay off the bat: be mindful of the tags! This was a whumptober fic and it is BIG SAD. But it is also so, so beautiful. The emotion woven throughout cuts to the bone and as painful as it was, the premise of the story was very well executed. (And if you're looking for a lighter read--maybe a spicy one--Moria's one-shot SOLAR STORM has such an incredible setup. The sexual tension is so well done.)

The RebelCaptain Romance Collection by @agentjackdaniels

I couldn't choose just one from this collection! Luce writes the softest, sweetest, fluffiest stories for RC that you will ever read. (Which makes perfect sense if you're lucky enough to get to know her because Luce is such a genuine, sweet soul.) These fics are like a warm-hug for the soul--just what you need after watching Rouge One.

the things you said by @gaygingersnaps

Again: I am not usually one for Modern AUs but I think the RC fandom is changing me and the first I ever read was Eli's amazing fic. I am obsessed with how Eli writes Jyn's internal dialogue. It's so in character and sharp and will make you smile and shake your head and go "Oh, Jyn!" This collection of stories is idiots-in-love like nothing else and you will fall in love with the world Eli has so thoughtfully crafted for a modern-day RC.

objection, your honor by @andorerso

I'm not usually one for modern AUs, but this fic is just so much fun. The banter between Cass and Jyn is so in character and so sharp and witty and the whole time I was reading I had a grin on my face. (These two idiots.) I love all the little details Sissi considers in this AU (Chewie being the dog for example), but that's no surprise! She is the queen of AUs!

Tethered (to the Story We Must Tell) by @dilf-din

I just absolutely loved the setup for this fic. Jess manages to fit these characters into a magical world so seamlessly by embedding the most incredible details from the Star Wars universe. (I was obsessed with the "stormtroopers".) Jess's writing is so smooth and rich and will immediately grab your attention.

Coping Mechanisms by @mosylufanfic

I think this was the first fic I ever read of mosylu's! I love the way she writes Jyn--always perfectly in character, strong and sassy. But in this fic in particular, I love the softness she brings to Jyn in how she cares for Cassian. I found it to be a very beautiful, healing read. (But if you're looking for something a bit longer or more upbeat! I mean, take your pick. Mosylu is another author who is amazing at AUs and her works are always such fun reads.)

RC Proposal by @ninsletamain

I could have put any of nins' pieces down as a rec. (Like seriously go scroll her feed she's insanely talented and her work blows my mind everytime without fail). But I chose this one because it is just so rich and full of detail, I love the story it tells, and you cannot help but smile whenever you look at it.

Claw Machine by @winterdruid

Definitely an all-time favorite for me. I remember making a joke about claw-machine as a first date when I was doing a RO rewatch with some friends and then this masterpiece showed up on my feed and my jaw dropped?! It's so fun and cute and well-done and I reblog it every time I see it soooo.

Seashore (for RC Fluffbruary) by @adeptnenyim

I love the scenery, their poses, their expressions, the quote?! Ahhh all of it! Nen's art is so soft and special and gives me all the feels and this one is no exception.

BTS of RO Inspired by @art-question-mark

I have always loved the picture this piece is based off of. In my head, it is happy Jyn and Cass. In my head, it is canon. Natalie's style is so beautiful and I love some of the quotes Natalie pulls from the Rogue One novel to go with the art!

Pretty Cute by @muguathepapaya

This piece is super cute and exactly what they deserved. I'm obsessed. Gives me all the warm and fuzzies. Sunshine on a rainy day, so gorgeous.

Time to Wake Up by @eegnm

Okay are you noticing the theme yet? I love seeing these two happy, and this scene in particular is just so...warm. I love the cuddly vibes, their expressions, all of it. You can feel the love in it.

losers by @necr0mancers

I am obsessed with the look they are exchanging. Very conspiratorial and so true to them. I also just love the style of this artists' works and the sense of humor woven through many of their pieces.

Elevator Scene by @satmolly

Nope I actually do not have words for this one. I think it says enough. (This happened, and it happened just like this and it is so very beautiful).

Favorite Scene (beach) by @dramaticmusicplaying

Another one that leaves me speechless. (Okay, they ALL do I feel like I am not doing these artists justice I'M SORRY). I just think this piece captures the beach perfectly and I love the style and all the colors and I kinda need to cry after looking at it okay?!

Jyn/Cassian Smooch by @barrikae

I am totally obsessed with this artist's style and this image in particular is just: ahhhhh! You know? Like look at themmmmm. Thank you for this barrikae.

Space Travel by @freebooter4ever

Your honor, they are holding hands and they are so very sleepy and I am so very in love with this piece. I love the artist's style and again, amazing scene set. Lives rent free in my mind.

Tagging creators for this one vs specific sets (cause you CANNOT make me choose honestly) and linking this post I wrote awhile back about how incredible I think you all are! (As in: I specifically had RC creators in mind when I wrote that post.)

*This is the list I am most nervous about cause I am almost certain I am forgetting people so if you see this and you make gifs for RC please know I love you and your work <3

@bartowskis

@staticwaffles

@jyndor

@andorerso

@jemmasimmons

@sydneyadmu

@garethsedwards

@gizkalord

@kalikoris

@dailyrebelcaptain

@therebelcaptainnetwork

#dailyrebelcaptain #drcvalentinescelebration #rebelcaptain recs #and yup! im late with this 😅 it took me probably 6 hours to pull this together and i think i could have spent 6 hours more but #my wrist is starting to give me grief unfortunately #so here goes nothing #(i am super nervous to post this for some reason!) #3..2..1..go

[choicesficwriterscreations]

April OC of the Month: Olivia Hadley

Please welcome April 2024's MC of the Month! Each month, we highlight one MC or OC on our Meet My MC / OC List. They are selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

This month’s OC of the month is…

@storyofmychoices's Olivia Hadley!

More below...

In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC.

Olivia is literally sunshine. She is the most genuine and empathetic person. She constantly looks for ways to help others and make life better for those who are not as fortunate as she is. She always tries to make everyone she meets (especially children) feel special and heard/appreciated. It doesn’t matter if she knows them or not. She looks out for everyone. She is just a good person with the most beautiful heart and soul. She is so precious to me. In an ideal world, there would be a lot more Olivia’s to help us all feel special.

Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

I do think Olivia and I have a lot in common. While I wish I could be as kind and empathetic as Olivia, I am still human, and I make mistakes. I try really hard to live by the principles of “leave the world a little better than you found it” (even if it’s just putting away a grocery cart someone left or picking up one piece of trash in a parking lot) and “be kind whenever possible; it is always possible” (this one is a little harder, but I try every single day to show kindness to everyone, even when I cannot show it to myself). I feel those principles also represent Olivia, she’s just better at it than me.

I also think we have similar occupations. We both wanted to be veterinarians and then learned we’d have to put animals down. Then we both switched to Pediatric Medicine. Olivia stuck with it. I decided to be a teacher because Pediatricians need to know how to deliver babies, and that’s a hard pass for me. Childbirth might be a miracle, but it’s disgusting (IMHO) lol. But we both work closely with children and try to make a positive impact on their lives. We both do whatever we can to create a safe place where children can tell us stuff they don’t know if they can share with their parents yet (questioning their sexual identity or gender). I’ve been very lucky to help several transgender elementary students feel more confident and accepted as well as work with parents to help them help their child. I’ve also worked with students with abusive home lives or their families can’t afford basic needs so I’ve gone out of my way to try to help them through anonymous donations and gift cards through the school. Anything I can do to ease even one struggle, I will do it and I think that is very much the person Olivia is. Olivia will always look out for anyone in her life. 

As for differences, Olivia is a little more confident than I am. I drink far more coffee than she does. We both love plants, but she keeps them alive better than I do. I try, but I don’t always succeed, though a cactus I got as a gift from a student 3 years ago just bloomed for the first time this month, so I’m super excited for that. Maybe Olivia is finally rubbing off?

What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life?

Olivia’s motivation is truly to make the world a better place. She knows that it’s not always easy, and there are so many struggles and so many hardships. She really wants to make a difference in the lives of those closest to her as well as in the community she serves. She knows she can’t conquer world hunger or global peace, but if she can make a difference to people around her then maybe those people can help some others and things would ripple out from there. 

After she has children, her motivation splits. She’ll never stop caring about those around her or the patients she sees, but her children are her first priority.

What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

Olivia doesn’t like gossip. She doesn’t like when people talk about others behind their back in a negative way. It makes her feel uncomfortable. She doesn’t like passive aggressive responses to situations. She genuinely believes that people are good, and if we all just try to have a little more empathy and understanding, the world would be a better place. 

She doesn't like rudeness, pettiness, or dishonesty.

Olivia prefers order and organization, so she dislikes chaos and messy places. 

If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

If Olivia could change anything, she’d find a cure for childhood cancer. She takes each case to heart and watching children struggle is something that is very hard for her. She would never trade her time at Edenbrook for anything, and she feels guilty for even thinking it, but she is grateful when she opens her own practice that most of her cases become regular checkups and normal/everyday illnesses.

What is your MC / OC’s favorite quote or song?

“My favorite things in life don't cost any money. It's really clear that the most precious resource we all have is time." — Steve Jobs

“You are the sum total of everything you’ve ever seen, heard, eaten, smelled, been told, forgot - it’s all there. Everything influences each of us, and because of that, I try to make sure that my experiences are positive.” ― Maya Angelou

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." —Antoine de Saint-Exupery

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says I'll try again tomorrow." — Mary Anne Radmacher

“Even miracles take a little time.” — Fairy GodMother (Cinderella) 

“Happily ever after is about finding happiness within yourself and holding on to it through any storm that comes your way." —Chris Colfer

Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC?  (It can be why you created them, how they’ve inspired you, or you could write a little blurb as if it is coming from your OC - an acceptance speech. :) )

Ahhh what else to say about my precious Olivia?! She truly brings me so much joy.  

If you’ve been in this fandom long enough, you’ll remember I was an Ethan romancer when OH first released. I enjoyed Ethan/MC’s dynamic. They totally reminded me of Thomas Hunt x MC. However, just before the pandemic, I wrote Bryce, thinking it was a one off thing, but as the world started to shut down, things got darker and scarier, Bryce Lahela’s sunshine and encouragement was something that resonated with me. I tried to make Olivia fit in the role of MC, but I just didn’t like the setup of MC with Bryce. So I made Olivia an original character. Taking her out of that MC role gave me so much more freedom with her and so much more freedom for telling her and Bryce’s story. I loved being able to see where each story would take them. I’m eternally grateful to Olivia (and Bryce) for helping me get through the Covid Pandemic. Having her and Bryce and their friends and family helped me have something positive and hope-filled to hold onto.

Olivia is actually really competitive. You might not see it or notice it at first, but if you’ve ever been a part of any competition with her, you’ll see she will not hold back. 

Olivia has a black belt in taekwondo, even though she never talks about it. She got it in High School. She wanted to do something to challenge herself and she wasn’t participating in any team sports, though she did try to get a pingpong team started in her school but it never took off. 

Olivia volunteered with Habitat for Humanity for a summer in the Dominican Republic.

Olivia has Scottish roots and has always dreamed of going to Scotland. She hasn’t gotten there yet, but one day!

Olivia is almost as lucky to have such good friends in Casey and Merida as I am to have @jerzwriter and @lilyoffandoms in my life. I can’t even begin to express how special they are to me and how I treasure their friendship.

Thank you to everyone who has ever supported Olivia. She is truly a special character who is so close to my heart. The fact that she is truly an original character and you still adore her means so much to me. I can’t say thank you enough. The amount of serotonin I get from writing and sharing her with you should be illegal, and then when anyone interacts, my heart explodes with unicorns and rainbows and all the sunshine. I’m eternally grateful for the support of Olivia, Bryce, and their little world. Thank you!!! 

#choices fic writers creations #cfwc oc of the month #open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #meet my oc #olivia hadley #storyofmychoices #playchoices #choices #choices stories you play #playchoices fanfic #choices fanfic #open heart fanfic

[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

[captainjacklyn]

Twisted Wonderland x Dragon!Yuu PART 3

Context : Yuu is dragged by the headmaster to who knows where while they carry on their arms, a very feisty fire cat. Upon arriving in the room full of strangely dressed people, a couple of incidents happen to take place just a couple of minutes later.

Tag List : @candlewitch-cryptic

Warning(s) : none really, fire with butts on fire, riddle is mean like he canonically was in the prologue, if I missed anything please notify me.

Prologue [Fiery Issue] - Episode 2 :

loud sounds of footsteps and incomprehensible mumbling could be heard across the hallway. A confused dragon in human form tried to reason with the presumably called 'headmaster crowley' to explain their situation, all while handling a very angry raccoon aggressively biting their hand.

"Sir Crowley, you must understand that there is a huge misunderstanding, I woke up here out of sheer coincidence and not once was I informed of attending a school for humans- I mean wizards. I myself aren't fit for such a position considering my level with magic-" He was quick to cut them off with a statement of his own, "There is no need to utter such nonsense ! The school wouldn't just pick up a student on the street to attend in this prestigious establishment ! Consider yourself lucky and flattered !" while saying the last part he smiled in satisfaction.

[lucky how exactly ?] Yuu thought to themselves while trying to keep their composure and find a way to tell them to let you go without revealing your identity. Of course you could just do so and get on with it, but not everyone reacts very well to the revelation. "MMHMHM !" the irritated fire cat muffled out it's own claims but to no avail as Yuu gripped him a little tighter and spoke under their breath. "Hush, you'll get back home in a minute, just calm down alright ?" "mmhm.." they groggily groaned back and the struggling temporarily stopped.

______________________________________________________________

Mirror Chamber - Entrance ceremony

Chatter filled the room as students began to get up from their seats to head out with their assigned group. "Is that all for the new student dorm assignments ? Listen up new students. Here in Heartslabyul I am the rules, break them and its off with your head." a red haired boy spoke firmly, another man with Lion ears followed with an introduction of his own. "..Uuugh. The stuffy ceremony is finally over. We're going back to the dorms, Savannaclaws follow me.."

"To the new students, congratulation on entering this academy. Enjoy your life here to the fullest." a confident boy with glasses welcomed the other individuals, "As the dormitory leader of Octavinelle, I will support you to the best of my abilities." then, a beautiful man brought the attention to something else, "By the way, where did the headmaster go ? he flew out right in the middle of the ceremony.." "abandoning his post.." A floating tablet commented.

"Did he get a stomach ache or something ?" another boy with a turban added his own assertion, only to be interrupted by the sound of doors slamming open and the voice of said headmaster. "Not at all !" "Ah he's here." the red haired boy uttered once more. "I cannot believe you all. We were missing one new student so I went to find them." crowley explained as he then turned his attention to Yuu, "You are the only one yet to be assigned a dormitory. I shall watch over the raccoon, step in front of the Dark Mirror."

[....I should just play along and hope that relic doesn't prove that strange man right...How could I go from one of the admirals of the Harmony faction to a human pupil..] Yuu let their mind run free as they hesitantly walked towards the Dark mirror that soon asked, "State thy name." [..In the name of Thor..I'm going to have to curse this artifact..] "Yuu/(Name)." their (e/c) eyes lighting up faintly whilst answering.

"The shape of thy soul is.." it continued, but didn't keep going as if waiting for something to happen.

"..." it's 'eyebrows' lifted, surprised. Yuu waited for an answer, the suspense making them somewhat tense up.

[..it's working..]

"..........." the Dark Mirror's expression turned to confusion.

[...how long does this last.]

"........................." it then started to presumably frown.

[...so..?]

"I do not know." [YES !] Yuu lifted their fist up to try and inaudibly express their relief with success in being able to cast a spell. "Come again ?!" Crowley exclaimed, "I sense not a spark of magic from this one..No color, no shape, all are nothing. therefore they are not suited for any dormitory." [harsh.] for all that, they didn't really need to care anymore, as long as the result was what they wanted. "It was as I told you, I do not possess any magical prowess."

"But an ebony carriage would absolutely never go meet someone who can't use magic !" he tried retorting Yuu's claims, "In 100 years there has not been a mistake in student selection. So why in the world.." he placed an thinking hand under his chin, not realizing that his grip on the fur ball loosened. "Mghmgh..Pah !" it yanked it's head away, seemingly angry about the whole ordeal as it declared : "Then I'll take their place !" The headmaster snapped out of his trance and tried scolding it, "Stay right there ! Raccoon !"

"Unlike that dumb human, I can use actual magic ! Let me in the school instead !" the raccoon defended itself, "if you need proof I'll show you right now !" it continued before positioning itself on all four and inhaling a strong breath in. As if to understand what was coming next, the red haired boy yelled out "Everyone get down !"

"Nnaah !" the talking cat puffed out his infamous fireball, "Waah ! Hottt! My butt's on fire !" the boy in the turban panicked as fire caught on his backside, "Tch ! Suck ups.." the man with lion ears groaned. The beautiful student from earlier couldn't help but comment on the lion's irritation, "Hmm ? Aren't you good at hunting ? Doesn't it look like a nice, plump snack ?" The beastman snapped back, "Why me ? Do it yourself." the boy with the turban was jumping up and down trying to get rid of the flames on his back side. "Umm, hey, could someone put out my butt fire already ?!" he screamed.

"At this rate the school will be a sea of fire ! Somebody catch that raccoon !" [can he get rid of anymore responsibilities...?] the dragon in disguise human let out an exasperated sigh "Hey." a stern voice broke the commotion, Yuu stood in front of the source of chaos.

"huh ?" it's eyes widened in confusion, "Fnagh ! You ! How did you get here so quickly ?!" it yelped in surprise, not knowing how this strange being shifted from one place to another without making a sound. "I told you to calm down earlier, did I not ? Is it that hard for you to not cause trouble ? That creature really acts like a member of the chaos faction.." they mumbled the last part under their breath as they stared down at the grey haired fur ball. Meanwhile, it was too busy being paralyzed out of fear, why was its fur standing on end ? Surely it isn't that intimidated.

The next thing that was expected to happen was a blow, but nothing came. "Stop. it." Yuu scolded as they aggressively patted his head, slowly pushing him down. "You. need. to. stop. You're quite literally burning down the school you so dearly wish to attend." They began to tap grim with their fingers in an attempt to annoy him to end his foolish acts.

Surprisingly..

It did work.

I hope you stay tuned for part 4 !

#malleus x reader #twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #twst #twst wonderland #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst yuu #dragon!yuu #dragon!au #twst malleus x reader #malleus x yuu #malleus x mc #malleus x y/n #prologue #twst prologue #twisted wonderland series #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst x reader #twst mc #idia shroud #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #crowley twst

[saphir93]

Adam x Lute - First meeting in Eden

Adam chose his exorcists, but if he and Lute had already met before in Eden? I loved the character of Adam so much, he is very deep and full of things to say yet, his narrative arc is not closed and his emotional bond with Lute is wonderful, it definitely brings out his best and best side. He must came back in the show, as I say feel that his character arc is not closed. Hope evry Adam fan and Lute X Adam will enjoy this things that I made.

First meeting in Eden

Garden of Eden. Adam and Lilith have just been created, but they don't get along at all and do nothing but argue. Adam turns offended while Lilith escapes and runs away. Lute comes down from the sky because she is curious to see the first man, so she flies through the garden but Lucifer is also there, so she decides to land and hide behind a tree. “What am I doing? I…I shouldn't be here.” she thinks. She is sweaty and her heart beats hard, but as soon as she places her gaze not covered, she scrutinizes Adam. Adam is sitting on a rock, he is naked, beautiful, perfect but sad, very sad. Lute is struck by such beauty and blushes.

“So this is the first man.”

Meanwhile Adam complains “That damned female never listens to me! I fucking hate her! I do everything I can to please her and she rejects me!” Lute sees that Adam is crying out. “I can't accept it, I can't see him being like this.” she thinks, then she decides to reveal herself to him. Adam looks up and is struck by his beauty and stops crying.

Adam “You are an angel…but, but you are a woman.” Lute “Hello first man. Yes, there are also female angels among us.” Adam “Well you know, the only one who visits us often is always Lucifer. I didn't think there were even females among you. My name is Adam anyway.” Lute “Adam, what a beautiful name. So tell me Adam, why are you so sad? Something wrong?" Adam “What's wrong? That I, Adam, I'm never enough for that ungrateful female! She's always complaining and criticizing, I can't stand her anymore." Lute approaches Adam, stroking his back. “But you are Adam, you are the first man, she must respect you and be grateful to be able to have you by her side. She doesn't realize how lucky she is!" Adam sprang to his feet. “You're fucking right! I am Adam, the first man! Everything will come from me, I need respect and I will have it!” Lute smiles “Of course the first man deserves it!”

Adam “Oh Lute, it would be nice if women were all like you angels! I feel better now and I thank you. I will make sure he respects me!”

Lute “Happy to have been of help to the first man.”.

Adam as he walks away. "Yes. You know, I also hope to see you again.”

Lute makes a sad face, then she thinks "I also wish it could have lasted longer Adam.". Lute while she is returning and flying carefree collides with Lucifer "And what are you doing here?" Lucifer was perplexed "I'm asking you the same question! I was checking that everything was fine as usual." Lute "Me too." Lucifer "Actually, I saw you as you approached Adam." Lute "But you were very close to Lilith!"

Lucifer "Okay, listen...neither of us saw anything." Lute "Clear" Lucifer "Good." Lute thinks “He knows I shouldn't be here and yet he's letting me go” she arrives at the gates of heaven to look sadly at the clouds beyond the gate “I hope Adam is okay”.

A lot of time passes and Lucifer is expelled with Lilith, the two make Eve eat the apple. Adam eventually became the first soul welcomed into heaven. Adam becomes an angel. Sera's office. Sera “Now that you are leader of the exorcists you can choose from our best fighting angels.” Evening shows the row of exterminating angels. Lute meets Adam's gaze and is afraid of being discovered, Adam recognizes her immediately and with a pleased face points to her without thinking. Adam smile “How small the universe is...” Sera “What's happening Adam?” Adam “It happens that I have chosen! There she is, the sexiest one. I really want that badass bitch over there! She is perfect! " Sera rolls her eyes at Adam's response while Lute tries to keep herself composed even though she feels uncomfortable while her linemate, Agatha glares at her full of envy. Adam “Even the one who looks at her badly, but yes. I want both bitches. They are perfect.”. Once outside Sera's office, Adam takes off his helmet and looks at Lute "I knew I'd see you again." Lute tried to avoid it. Adam “No. Don't do that, look at me." Lute takes courage and looks at him, Adam winks “It's our secret.” Lute blushes. “Lucky bitch who saw the first man. You are so sweet.” concludes Adam.

The start of a fan series I'm working on and writing the script. This part will become a future fan animated video, collaboration with @kimtrik96

#vivziepop #canon couple #adam x lute #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #lute hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #guitarspear #couple #vivziepop hazbin hotel

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SPEAK SOFTLY LOVE

— “WE’RE IN A WORLD, OUR VERY OWN. SHARING A LOVE THAT ONLY FEW HAVE EVER KNOWN.”

pairing; post spray jeremiah valeska x fem!reader

summary; jeremiah takes you to see the first part of one of his favourite film franchises of all time. the godfather. and when you return from seeing such a cinematic masterpiece, jeremiah decides to dance with you to one of the songs from it.

note; HII!! i can’t even explain how excited i am to be writing this. i love the godfather and gotham, so i’m glad the thought came to me. nothing wrong with appreciating my love for both jeremiah valeska and michael corleone;)

also, here’s some of the italian words used in this fic, and what they mean! (if these ain’t accurate just blame google translate)

non smetti mai di sembrare raggiante, tesoro. - you never fail to look radiant, darling.

grazie - thank you.

MASTERLIST

You and Jeremiah panted as you had ran back in the rain to the entry of his hideout. Tonight he’d took you to see one of his favourite cinema classics. The Godfather.

He’d had this planned for AGES. Years even. He knew one day he wanted to share with you the joy he felt in watching such an amazing cinematic masterpiece. And today, he had successfully got what he wanted.

There was tons of abandoned theatres scattered throughout Gotham. But Jeremiah didn’t want to take you somewhere shabby and wrecked. No.

He’d taken you to Gotham’s oldest theatre. A building that had been stood even before the very first time The Godfather came to cinemas. It was high class, and full of money people at all times. The theatre was known for showing tons of classics. So tonight was Jeremiah’s lucky night.

He’d made sure he booked out the whole screening. He didn’t want a soul interrupting any moment he was planning on enjoying with you. Only thing was that because of how high class the theatre was, it would cost a shit load to buy tickets, let alone the whole thing.

Jeremiah made sure the owner knew that money wasn’t everything. Well.. after holding a blade to his throat.

The whole thing went smoothly. And you’d never seen him so happy. He looked more like an excited child rather than a grown man thrilled to see the most loved mafia movie on the big screen.

As the heels of his shoes tapped against the flooring, you heard him softly hum the Godfather waltz. And he did so with nothing but pride.

You sat on the couch, your fingers slowly tracing circles onto the beautiful fabric. Jeremiah always had ways of making you feel so expensive.

“A glass of Chianti, darling?” He called out.

You looked back and nodded as he swiftly poured the Italian wine into a tall crystal glass for you.

Jeremiah carefully strutted over to you, two glasses in his hands. He placed one down in front of you, giving you a kiss on the hand.

“I must say,” He said, sitting down beside you, already motioning for you to move closer. “My expectations for this night with you were perfectly met, my dear.”

Jeremiah put a gloved finger on your cheek, and you practically purred at his touch. He held your waist as you moved into his lap, grinning.

“I suppose now I see why you always used to be so persistent on having that slicked back hair, Don Valeska.” You mocked. You’d known for years Jeremiah took a deep liking to Michael Corleone’s character. You couldn’t blame him, of course. Michael and Jeremiah both shared a great charm.

He rolled his eyes playfully, taking a sip of his wine. He let out a small gasp as an idea struck him. And you furrowed your brows the minute he took you off his lap.

“Miah?” You said, curiosity clear in your voice. He held a finger up, hurrying into another room. You just sighed, wondering what he was planning now.

Jeremiah soon returned, a vinyl in hand. He flashed you a smile, before darting over to the record player. He set it all up, and you started to giggle the minute the song started to play.

Speak Softly Love by Andy Williams. A song that included an instrumental theme used in The Godfather. Which had made the song a true gem to listen to.

He rushed back over to you, and you could see the amount of joy dancing around in his eyes despite the song only just starting.

“Shall we?” Jeremiah grinned, putting his hand out for you.

You accepted it, and he immediately pulled you up. Gracefully, but you could tell he was desperate to finally dance with you to this.

Speak softly, love and hold me warm against your heart..

I feel your words, the tender trembling moments start.

We're in a world, our very own..

Sharing a love that only few have ever known.

Another soft giggle escaped your lips as he directed you to sway around with him. You’d never admitted it, but Jeremiah was an incredible dancer. Always so careful with his partner.

Wine-colored days warmed by the sun..

Deep velvet nights, when we are one.

“Non smetti mai di sembrare raggiante, tesoro.” Jeremiah whispered into your ear. God you loved when he spoke Italian.

“Grazie.” You replied, planting a kiss onto his cheek. However, he redirected your lips. He tilted your chin upward, and soon you felt his own velvety smooth lips brushing against yours.

He put one hand on the back of your head, caressing your hair. He pulled away as the rest of the lyrics played on the vinyl, and the two of you went back to swaying again.

Speak softly, love so no one hears us but the sky..

The vows of love we make will live until we die.

My life is yours and all because..

You came into my world with love, so softly love.

You both waltzed around the room as the strong instrumental part of the song really kicked in. You caught a glimpse of Jeremiah’s face glistening from the moonlit sky outside throughout Gotham.

You’d truly began to admire his new features now. His ghostly white face, red ruby lips, and those icy green eyes..

Some were scared, meanwhile others like his followers found it intriguing. But you.. oh.. you found it hauntingly beautiful.

His change in attitude was also something you were secretly enjoying. Before the spray, Jeremiah had been incredibly shy with showing you affection. His overthinking always crept in, giving him the hint that perhaps you did not feel the same way towards him as he did for you.

Now, he was incredibly bold whilst showing his love for you. And he wanted every single person in the city to see that.

Wine-colored days warmed by the sun..

Deep velvet nights, when we are one.

His gloved hands made their way down your body, cupping your hips. Jeremiah loved your curves. You were so womanly. And it was another part of you he’d always admired.

“This is…” He breathed. “Rather.. exhilarating.”

Speak softly, love so no one hears us but the sky..

The vows of love we make will live until we die.

My life is yours and all because..

You came into my world with love…

“It’s definitely-“

“A night to remember.” Jeremiah cut you off. You dipped down as he hovered above you, his grip tight. He bent toward you, kissing you once again.

So softly love.

THIS WAS LITERALLY SO FUN TO WRITE. either that or it’s the concept of mixing my two favourite interests together. but man i love jeremiah more than anything.

#jeremiah valeska #jeremiah valeska x reader #gotham #jeremiah #x reader #fem!reader #the godfather #fics #the valeska twins #valeska twins #gotham jeremiah #fluff #the godfather 1972 #cameron monaghan #michael corleone #reader #ghastlyfilters #Spotify