#Also please give us finally some beard options

[vivalgi]

☝I'm getting tired of PB using the same 2-3 blonde hairstyles for male MCs. It feels like we haven't gotten anything new in ages. Besides, that particular long blonde hair clearly wasn't made for that body type as it looks very misplaced.

Like... come on, PB! I know you're poor af right now but you have a huge f@©king back catalogue with 7 f@©king years worth of assets. Put it to good use and stop recycling the same couple hairstyles (and faces) ffs! Below are some examples I've put together:

(the last one is a recolored Nat Pippin's (TDA) hair to show there's more possibilities with a few quick tweaks)

[paluding]

Introducing... The Tattooer!

[This version is OUTDATED! Please, check the new version here. I updated the workflow, skipping a lot of unnecessary Photoshop editing. It's way faster! I'll leave this old version and files up though, for archiving purposes. But yeah I still totally recommend you use the new version!]

Finally! I’ve been working on this for so long and I couldn’t wait to share it. This is a series of Blender template files already set up to quickly bake textures from The Sims 4 to The Sims 2. Really neat for cc creators! The different Blender files will allow you to:

-Bake body textures from TS4 to TS2 (Female) -Bake body textures from TS4 to TS2 (Male) -Bake body textures from TS4 (Female) to TS2 (Male) -Bake body textures from TS2 (Female) to TS2 (Male) [Bonus!] -Bake head textures from TS4 to TS2 (Face + Scalp) [Experimental]

Check the file names to see which one is which, and the resolution of the baked texture it will give. Download! SFS / GD

Everything you see in the render above was converted using those Blender files. I only did a couple tiny edits to the eyes and lips to fix them. These templates were made mainly to bake and convert tattoos, but there’s more you can do with them if you get creative. I have to say, these are NOT perfect. Check out the eyebrows on the render above. They look a bit wonky compared to the original, don’t they? I left them as is to keep your expectations with these as realistic as possible. Results may vary depending on what you are trying to convert, so! With that in mind, this is all the stuff you will be able to convert almost seamlessly from TS4 to TS2:

-Tattoos. -Other body details such as body hair, scars, freckles, supernatural/occult details… -Body painted underwear and swimwear, as well as some other clothing that’s mostly painted on the body. -Socks, stockings and maybe leggings. -Even skintones! In some areas they will look weird, so I recommend editing and blending them with other existing TS2 skins. -Makeup. Kinda bad but hey it works! Eyeliner and anything that is around the eyes looks terrible for now, but other stuff like blush may look just okay. -Eyebrows and maybe beards. A bit of hit or miss with those. -Hair scalps. Very useful when converting some hairs! Although keep in mind part of that texture might also need to be baked on the face mesh, you know, that hairline makeup stuff.

Got your attention? Nice! Editing some of the textures from TS4 to match the UV mapping in TS2 using a 2D editing program can be incredibly hard. That’s where texture baking in Blender comes to the rescue!

It is recommended you download Blender version 2.91.0, which is the one I use. Don’t worry, it’s free! There’s also 3 Photoshop actions you will need to set up the textures for baking and then putting them back together, because unfortunately Blender doesn’t support transparencies in that baking process, so that takes a couple extra steps to make it work, but I think it’s still pretty fast and easy. And just in case Tumblr manages to blow up or something, I decided to include a pdf with the upcoming tutorial that will guide you step by step with all this process, so if this post gets deleted somehow (I really hope not!), you will still have that pdf as a backup archived.

You can download Blender here. Personally I recommend picking the fourth option, “blender-2.91.0-windows64.zip”, which is a portable version and doesn’t need to be installed. You will also need Sims 4 Studio to extract the original Sims 4 CC textures you want. As for Photoshop… I’m not going to tell you to buy that subscription service and give Adobe some undeserved money, so… yeah, there might be some other options out there to get it (very legit, yes yes).

So, before we begin, let’s clear out some questions you might have. What the heck is this texture baking thing and what does it do? Well, let’s imagine you have a projector and point an image into a blank wall. Then you pick up some brushes and start painting and copying that projected image in that wall. Texture baking is kinda like that when it comes to 3D models. You align two models and match them as closely as you can in shape and form, and once you adjust some parameters and values, Blender does the rest for you: it will give you a new texture for a new model with a different UV map. These files I’m sharing have everything already set up, so it’s a matter of plopping in that Sims 4 texture and you will get that new texture for TS2 in just a few clicks.

This tutorial assumes you know literally nothing about how to use Blender, so if you feel uncomfortable with it, worry no more! This will guide you with pictures showing where you need to click and explaining what is happening. For Sims 4 Studio and Photoshop the process might be a bit less detailed, but still this should be pretty beginner friendly. For this tutorial, I will use some tattoos as an example. Alright, enough with the rambling. Let’s get started!

·EXTRACTING TEXTURES AND EDITING THEM WITH PHOTOSHOP: First things first, you will need to extract as pngs all the textures you want to convert from TS4 using Sims 4 Studio. Once you’ve done that, open them up one by one in Photoshop and run the “No transparency” action. This will remove the alpha channel from the image, getting rid of all the transparency. Go ahead and save a png copy of it. Then run the “Make Alpha” action on those same swatches (from the beginning, make sure you’re not running the action on an already edited swatch!), which will only show the alpha channel of the image in black and white, and save another copy of that. You should have 2 textures for each tattoo swatch. For the “No transparency” action I like to name it BASE (And your swatch number or name), and for the “Make Alpha” action I usually name it ALPHA (And that same swatch number/name). I recommend saving them in different folders named BASE TS4 and ALPHA TS4 respectively to keep it organized. If you want to make this much faster in Photoshop, there’s an automation option in it that allows you to run an action through a batch of files in a folder and then saves it all. I won’t cover how to do it in this tutorial, but you should be able to find it easily on Google by searching something like “Photoshop automate batch”. It’s really powerful and will make your workflow with actions much faster. Definitely recommend learning about that!

·BAKING THE TEXTURES IN BLENDER: PRELIMINARY STEP 1: CONFIGURING BLENDER’S GRAPHICS SETTINGS: Open your preferred Blender file depending on what you’re going to bake and the desired resolution (in this example I’m going to use the AF-body-4t2-1024 file). Before we start messing around in Blender, there’s one thing you should set up. It is a onetime step, and once it’s done, you won’t need to do it again. So, does your computer have a dedicated graphics card? If you don’t know or you’re not sure, just skip to the next step. Configuring Blender so it uses your graphics card instead of your CPU will make the baking render much faster, so it is recommended you set it correctly. If your computer has a dedicated graphics card, click File (1) > Preferences (2) > and on the window that pops up click System (3) > and select CUDA and make sure your graphics card is there and tick it (4). I have an Nvidia Graphics card but your case may vary. Once you’re done, click on the tiny button on the bottom left corner and Save Preferences (5).

PRELIMINARY STEP 2: CHOOSING THE RENDERING DEVICE: Click on the tiny camera button on the right, called Render Properties (1), and on Device (2) select GPU Compute if it’s not already selected. If you’re not sure if you have a graphics card or not, just select CPU. Then select the Material Properties tab (2) and Save your changes, either by pressing Ctrl + S, or clicking File (4) > Save (5). Okay, time to get into the good stuff!

·STEP 1: LOADING YOUR TS4 BASE TEXTURE: In the Material Properties tab, click the folder icon that says Open (1) and on the window that pops up, navigate through your folders and select your first texture. For now we’re going to bake the BASE texture, so go to that folder where you saved the edited “No transparency” image. To navigate easily, the 3 buttons on the top right (2) are for the display mode. They will show your files in list mode, vertical and horizontal, and the one on the right will display the file thumbnails, pretty useful if you want to easily see your images. And the icons on the left side (3) will let you go one folder back and forward, go to the parent directory, and refresh the folder in case you just dropped something new in there. Double click on the image you need and that will load it into the Sims 4 body model, named “ts4 body”.

·STEP 2: SETTING UP YOUR SELECTION AND BAKING THE TEXTURE: On the top right of the screen, you will see the names of the 2 models in the scene. Hold the Ctrl key in your keyboard and left click on the “ts2 body” model (1). If you did it correctly, you should see “ts2 body” in a yellowish orange color, and right down below, “ts4 body” should look more like a red orange. If not, try again by clicking first on ts4 body, and then while holding Ctrl click again on ts2 body. Then switch to the Render Properties tab by clicking the tiny camera icon (2) and click Bake (3). Depending on your screen resolution, you might need to scroll down a bit with your mouse to see the Bake button. Wait a few seconds for it to finish. You will see the progress percentage down on the bottom of your screen. Don’t panic if you notice your computer fans start ramping up, that’s completely normal! As I said in the beginning, using your GPU will bake the textures much faster than the CPU.

·STEP 3: SAVING YOUR NEW TS2 TEXTURE: Once it’s finished, switch to the UV Editing Mode by clicking “UV Editing” on the top of your screen. And there it is: your new texture! You might have to scroll up your mouse wheel a bit to zoom in and see it in all its glory on the left side of the screen. We’re still not done yet though. You need to save it to yet another new folder (always try to keep your stuff organized!).

You can save it by pressing Shift + Alt + S, or clicking on Image* (1) and then Save As… (2). That will pop a window where you’ll need to navigate again and save it somewhere. Give it a proper name (3) and hit Enter to save it… well, Enter doesn’t always work for me for some reason, so if that happens just click Save As Image (4). In this case, I personally like to call it something like “BASE TS2”.

·STEP 4: GOING BACK TO STEP 1: Alright! So you have your new baked base texture, but we still need to bake the alpha channel to give it its transparency. In order to go back to step 1 and start the process once again, click Layout (1), go back to the Material Properties tab (2), select “ts4 body” (3) and click on the folder icon (4) to open and load the alpha texture you did in the beginning in Photoshop.

Then it’s just a matter of repeating the process from step 2: bake the alpha channel and save it again as a new image (watch out, don’t overwrite your previous image!). This one I like to name “ALPHA TS2”. When you’re ready to move on, close Blender without saving. If you see a small check telling you it will save some images, make sure you uncheck it, so you will be able to use it again in the future from the starting point with no issues. I don’t think it really matters if you accidentally save your progress in these files, but I like to keep it clean and fresh so I can do the process where I left it from the beginning the next time I open it. And in case you mess up and save somewhere, you can always just delete the .blend file and download the template files again.

·FINAL STEP: PUTTING EVERYTHING BACK TOGETHER IN PHOTOSHOP: We’re almost done! Open Photoshop and drop in both your 2 new baked textures, “BASE TS2” and “ALPHA TS2”. Keep both layers on top of each other and aligned. For that you can enable the snapping in View > Snap to… > All. Rename these layers so the Alpha layer is “ALPHA” and the Base is “BASE”, and make sure ALPHA is on top.

Then run the “Final Baked” action and now for real, it’s finally over! You just fully baked and converted these new textures. Congratulations!

So, to summarize, here’s a small guide with all the steps of the workflow I developed. Once you get the hang of it, baking and converting one swatch of a texture just takes a couple minutes. It really is that easy!

One small note though, some of the baking blend files save the textures with a resolution of 2048x2048 pixels, as clearly stated at the end of their file name. That’s way too overkill, because TS2 only properly supports up to 1024x1024 for most of its textures and you should always resize your final product to that max resolution. I just made those 2048 versions because there might be some really tiny and slim details on some tattoos that may look a little too blurry when baked into a 1024 resolution, so for those cases use that if you want and then resize them in Photoshop. In the Resample mode of the Image Size menu, there are a few options to choose. For the fine details, I like the Nearest Neighbor (hard edges) option, which, even if it looks a bit pixelated, it still preserves most of the texture and quality.

For anything else, I would just directly bake them using the 1024 versions in Blender.

And for the folks who feel comfortable playing around in Blender, this is just the beginning! Texture baking opens a LOT of possibilities, so feel free to move stuff around and edit the models to your liking! If you notice the baked textures look warped or stretched somewhere, or don’t like where some textures are placed in the S2 body, poke around that area moving stuff and then give it another try. The main objective of the baking process is keeping both overlapping models as close in shape as possible. You may also edit and save new copies of the templates, or make new ones from scratch using mine as a reference (keep a close look on those Baking settings and values, I think they work pretty well) and share them if you want to. Go ham, do whatever you want with them! I have plans on making templates to convert body textures from Sims 3 to Sims 2, but for now it’s not on my priorities, so we’ll see when that happens.

Whew! Hope none of this was too confusing. Need help or have any issues with these? Please ask/message me and I’ll be glad to help when I’m able to!

Credits for the CC used in the render demonstration: -Skin by Sims3Melancholic -Eyes by Northern Siberia Winds -Eyebrows by PeachyFaerie -Tattoos by xtc -Top by SerenityCC

And the Tattoo I used for the tutorial can be found here, by ValhallanSim

Last but not least, a huge, special thanks to @elvisgrace for all her help testing this for me. I’ve never shared Blender files, so hopefully everything works as intended and everyone can use them with no weird issues. Fingers crossed! And thank you for reading! Hope you have fun playing with this new toy hehe.

[gobs-o-cs]

"We have to get back... We have to warn them! We can't be too late! ...Please. Please tell us that this was not how it ends!"

Malachite

(He/Him)

Warforged Warlock, Great Old One Patron, Pact of the Talisman

Neutral

Courtier Background (Emissary)

Prior to the Backstory Event that Led to Making a Warlock Pact:

Cuprite

"On behalf of the esteemed City-State of Hells'-Haven, I thank you for your hospitality in receiving this envoy and express our most sincere wishes that we can together forge an enthusiastic, efficacious, and enduring partnership."

Dice Set #74 - Oxi-Copper

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

What can I say? Inspiration is a fickle thing. I'll take it when I can get it, but I've definitely been slacking on making characters or minis. Definitely fell deep into a jigsaw puzzle vortex.

But, anyway, a post on bluesky inspired me to go back and remake a character's mini into a nice, proper one with all of the new features at my disposal.

Malachite's a character who in some form or another has been rattling around in my head for, like, something like 15 years now. I originally made the Warforged Warlock for 4th Edition - He was actually a counterpart of sorts to Morana.

For my 4th Edition characters, I was putting together the vague idea of them all being on the same team of mercenaries - If I were to ever DM a campaign, they'd be available for the PCs' party to hire/bring along for missions to shore up any weaknesses they had, to act as quest-givers (especially side-quest-type stuff), and in-general to give them NPC friends to care about (the plot hook I had in-mind would begin with the party being recruited into this merc group).

Actually, if I ever do run a campaign instead of just writing a story, I think I might still approach things with that whole setup in-mind.

Anyway, a trope I'd noticed in many media is that groups/teams/parties only ever seemed to have one member of each type/class - Maybe a beefy-type-fighter and agile-type-fighter, but that was the most overlap that seemed to exist, and usually that'd be more like a fighter and a ranger, or a fighter and a barbarian.

So what I wanted to do was have two Warlocks both as part of the core crew - Because the mercenary group liked each other and wanted to work with their friends, rather than shrewdly looking at their roster and rejecting someone because "they already had one of those".

While HeroForge still doesn't have the very niche ideas I have in-mind for the ultimate vision I have for Mal, the new options are certainly a step up from my first attempt at making a mini for him back in 2020.

In my vision, he doesn't have normal-looking horns, per se - He's got two metal slats attached to his faceplate, in place of horns - The Tieflings that made him did make him to resemble them, but still more stylized. Also, the green "hair" on his head is meant to be an accumulation of Old Man's Beard lichen, which started growing on his immobilized body while he was stuck in involuntary stasis, caught halfway in a time-bubble (hence the patina on his right side)

The reason for his making a pact, and the reason for his persona change is that he spent over 20 years stuck with his body and mind half-in-half-out of magical fallout, basically. And the source of the eldritch magic eventually reached out to his literally-fractured mind, and that aspect of his personality - An embodiment of his utter desperation and outrage, was the one to form the pact.

Finally freeing himself from the stasis effect stabilized his mind for the most part, but in terms of which facets of himself that are driving the actions now, there was a shift from his normal self to the part of him that made the pact. It's not a clear distinct-personas Dissociative Identity Disorder thing - There's no different-alters-taking-control-at-different-times switching - Malachite and Cuprite are the same person, just two of many voices that would debate ideas back and forth in his head, same as pretty much anyone else does. Malachite ultimately isn't any less reasonable than Cuprite - More guarded and paranoid, more affected by trauma, certainly. But still essentially Cuprite.

Nevertheless, learning that he was framed for causing the explosion of the strange magic that trapped him and destroyed a fortress, and that this incident was used by the other nation as a justification to invade and destroy his home City-State will definitely not sit well with him. His people - Both in the sense of the other residents of Hells'-Haven in-general, and his Warforged kin - Those who survived the invasion have once again been scattered to the winds. Hells'-Haven was a center of invention and research, and they had found ancient Warforged in tombs and revived them from their dormant states, which led to the development of techniques for creating new ones. So, the Warforged had their new home amongst the exiled Tieflings (and others) of the Haven.

He wishes to return to his service as an emissary of his people, which means finding whatever surviving leadership he can, if there's indeed anyone left to find. All the while his new "friend" whispers promises of vengeance justice in his mind.

[straightbladerazor]

Straight Razor Kit

Simply having this fashionable razor on your counter sends a message to anybody who finds themselves in it’s presence. Along with it is smooth look, comes unmatched capabilites and the closest most personal shave you've ever had in your life. The classic. Combine this barbershop-high quality straight razor with our double-sided substitute blade and you’re fully set as much as line-up that beard with ease. The easy folding action, leather protecting case, and stylish magnetic field are only a few bonuses that make this straight razor essential for at-dwelling shavers.

In case you are like most men, you most likely don’t pay a lot attention to your neck while you shave. And we get it we mostly give attention to how our face appears to be like, so our necks usually get little to no love. If you are one of these men, nonetheless, possibly you must rethink your whole shaving routine. Not only is the neck space delicate and more prone to irritation, however missing a number of neck hairs right here and there could make you look incredibly unkempt and sloppy, especially if you are growing a beard.

To get the very best shave in your neck or face, the very first thing to think about will always be the kind of razor you need to be using. There are two obvious choices in the case of your neck: The double-blade razor and the extra classic, single-blade security razor. In case you are going for a clean look, we mostly recommend using the single-blade safety razor, as it can be easier to maneuver across the neck, and it does a better job of preventing irritation and burns.

Now, when you have a beard, it's possible you'll not need a razor, but you could know how you can trim a beard neckline. If that is your case, then a trimmer is perhaps the only option for you. If you are going with a trimmer, make sure that it comes with adjustable guards so you'll be able to form your beard extra precisely. You must also use a extra trendy trimmer that does not heat up so rapidly, as sizzling trimmer blades can irritate the pores and skin around the neck.

Choosing the proper razor or trimmer is simply step one in the case of gathering the best tools for an ideal neck shave. In addition to a superb, reliable razor, your shaving routine should all the time include creams, lotions, or balms to help prepare your neck for a smoother shave while also protecting your skin.

Make sure you have a cleanser specifically made for facial hair, though pure Straight Blade Razor face cleansers will also be used. This ensures your pores and skin and beard are free of extra oils or filth, which can trigger the razor to get stuck and cause unwanted accidents. After totally cleaning your face and neckline beard, chances are you'll want to strive applying some beard oil. Many men have discovered that utilizing beard oil on the neck earlier than shaving cream can cut back redness and irritation.

The final step in your pre-shaving routine needs to be a shaving cream to lubricate and shield the skin throughout shaving. But please, keep away from something that comes out of a pressurized can! These creams and gels can usually dry out the pores and skin, so it’s higher to go together with a naturally-formulated cream if possible.

In the case of technique and abilities for shaving your neck and jawline beard, the primary point is to maintain your strokes and overall motions gentle and smooth. As all the time, your first strokes should go together with the grain with out repeating strokes. Strokes should be light to keep away from irritation, and they need to not overlap or not less than general as little as possible. This isn't an easy job, given the sensitivity and contours of the world, however with the suitable steps, you possibly can achieve a easy and comfy shave.

The first crucial step is getting ready your pores and skin for the shave. Start with a scorching shower if possible. The steam from the bathe opens up the pores, softens the hair, and permits for a smoother shave. If a bathe is not an option, dampen a towel with sizzling water and place it in your neck for a couple of minutes to realize the identical effect. For an even better prep, consider gently exfoliating the skin on your neck with a scrub. This process removes dead skin cells, dirt, and oil, decreasing the prospect of the pores getting clogged and leading to razor burn.

In the case of the precise shaving, your approach is crucial. First, at all times use a sharp, clear razor - uninteresting blades can pull on the hair and trigger discomfort or cuts. Whether or not you like a security razor, a cartridge razor, or a straight razor, make sure the blade is sharp and the razor is clean. As for the shaving route, always shave with the grain (in the path of hair growth) to scale back irritation. Remember that the hair progress pattern on the neck may not be uniform, so pay shut attention. Lastly, use quick, mild strokes when shaving - you need not apply a lot pressure. The weight of the razor itself is usually sufficient to cut the hair.

[love-menzone]

Top 10 barbershop in Oakville

Picking the right barbershop can have a significant impact on your grooming experience. When it comes to getting the services, you have to pick anyone among the Top 10 barbershop in Oakville who needs to give the best services. Here are some of the reasons why you have to consider a barbershop for your grooming needs.

Why you need to reach the salon services?

Expertise: Barbers are trained professionals specializing in haircuts, styling, and grooming. They have a lot of knowledge and experience in this field and also give expert advice on the best styles and grooming techniques for your hair and facial hair. 

Customized services: The Best barbers in town offer more services that include haircuts, beard times, shaves, and grooming treatments. These services are customized to meet your specific needs and preferences and ensure that you can receive personalized care and attention. 

Relaxing atmosphere: Many barbershops offer a relaxed and welcoming atmosphere, making it a great place to unwind and de-stress. This can make your grooming experience more enjoyable and comfortable.

High-quality products: Barbershops often use products specially formulated for men's grooming needs. These products can help to nourish and protect your hair and skin, leaving you looking and feeling your best.

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Final words:

Overall, picking the right barbershop can offer a range of benefits, including expert services, customized care, a relaxing atmosphere, high-quality products, convenience, and camaraderie. By investing in your grooming routine and selecting the right barbershop, you can look and feel your best while enjoying a personalized and enjoyable grooming experience. For more details, refer to the link, Menzone.ca

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Reference taken from here.

[aikoiya]

I'M SORRY!! THIS FOREVER MOVING MIND IS BOTH A BLESSING & A CURSE!!!

I CRY WITH YOU!! 😭

But, honestly?

... I think it could still be fixed, but it would depend entirely upon them & their decisions.

For... damn near all of them... she'd take a moment to think... then would challenge him. "Then, what will you do? You're right. Intentions mean very little, so if you had the time to do something. What. Would. You. Do?"

Depending on his answer... if it were the correct one... He'd find her approaching him, then when he expects her to execute him...

There is a sweeping rush of wind before they are both suddenly near the entrance of the dungeon & far away from their enemies for a time.

(His reaction, if it pleases thee & doth not make thee sadder?)

Regardless, upon getting to a safer place. If he attempts to touch her, she will flinch away, eyes still red & cheeks wet with tears.

"I-I... I need time... I'm willing to..." Here, she paused as if struggling valiantly with something. "Try." She spat the word out as though it were acid on her tongue. Her voice wet, heavy, & breaking with sorrow.

"But no more of... THAT!! All of that!! It was bad!!" She grabs him by the odd white cloth on the front of his armor or the beard or the haori or the weird little flipping skirt of his (OoT & TP, HW, TotK, & Demise respectively) & pulls him in so that he's force to look into her eyes & see how determined she is.

"No more hiding shit from each other & letting it fester! For either of us! No more lying & making assumptions about what the other is thinking or their intentions! No more trying to cover things up, even for the other's protection!"

He could clearly see that she was still very deeply deeply hurt & angry & crushed... but there was also a fortifying resolve forged of steel holding her together. He knew her & he knew how she thought. She refused to let this break her or them. She was breaking, but not broken.... & neither were they...

"This isn't just on you. I didn't make the right decisions regarding this either. But, as much as I want this to work, there are only 2 options here as far as I can see: either we fall apart at the seams destroying us both... Or we change & we get better, stronger, healthier together!"

The way she was pinning him with her eyes. One that she urgently desired for him to take & prove her previous beliefs about him to be wrong. It was an obvious challenge. A strange one, but then... so was she...

"I'm... not even sure if this was... the right decision yet... So, please..." Her words are desperate.

Her voice came back once more. Now seeming oddly small & fragile. "Show me that I am not a fool for hoping that this could still work..."

His thoughts & feelings at this unexpected turn of events & her reaction to his touch? Her pulling him in close & demanding such things of not just him, but them both?

Her admittance to having dealt with the situation in the wrong way? To being given, what felt like, one final chance? To the challenge to be better together by learning to change & be more honest withbeach other?

How does he feel? What does he do? What will he say? Does he appreciate what she's doing? Does he acknowledge that she's willing to give them another shot if he's willing to try? Is he ready for how much work it'll take to regain her trust? Because, it should be fairly obvious to him by now that just because something has been broken, it doesn't mean that it's beyond repair. Or that it's somehow lost its worth because of it.

Does he wonder if she is also willing to work just as hard to regain his trust? Because, I would not doubt that she's also lost at least some of his as well. Does he make demands of his own? If so, what kind? Is he willing to give a little for the sake of what they have?

Bottom line: What will he do now?

How would the Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) & Demise react to going to the final battle against the Goddess and the Hero… only to be struck down by their own SO?

As they look up, breathing already getting harder to do, they question why, and the SO, who had once looked at them with such love and devotion, hisses "Did you actually think I loved you? You? The Demon King?… You are more pathetic than I thought. No. I never loved you. You were a means to an end. Now, dear husband, perish."

This scenario is a devastating betrayal, one that would strike deeply at the heart of each Ganondorf and Demise, shaking them to their core. Here's how they might react, given their personalities and the depth of the bond they believed they had with their SO.

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Reaction: Shock, Disbelief, and a Hollow Despair

Wind Waker Ganondorf, who harbored a deep longing for his people and a twisted hope for their future, would be utterly crushed by this betrayal. As he lies on the ground, his body broken and his strength fading, his wide eyes lock onto his SO's cold gaze.

"Why?" His voice, usually so commanding, is barely more than a whisper. He was always aware of the potential for betrayal, but from them? The one he trusted?

When his SO delivers their cruel words, it’s like a blade twisting in his chest. The realization that the love he thought he had was never real strips him of the last of his will to fight. He had fought so hard, for so long, but to realize it was all for nothing, that he was used, it breaks him in a way no hero ever could.

His last moments are filled with an aching emptiness as he closes his eyes, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Reaction: Rage, Betrayal, and a Final Curse

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf, the man who clawed his way to power with sheer will and cunning, would be overwhelmed by an all-consuming rage at this betrayal. As he lies on the ground, his hand clutching his wound, he looks up at his SO, disbelief warring with fury in his eyes.

"You… dared…" His voice is hoarse, laced with venom, but there's a tremble to it—a crack in his steely composure.

When his SO spits their hateful words, any remaining warmth in his heart turns to ice. He had trusted them, cared for them in his own twisted way, and now, they throw it back in his face.

Even as his life drains away, his mind seethes with hatred and thoughts of vengeance. He curses them with his dying breath, swearing that if he cannot live, he will haunt them, torment them from beyond the grave. His last thoughts are of revenge, his rage fueling him until the very end.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Reaction: Cold, Silent Acceptance Mixed with Profound Sadness

Twilight Princess Ganondorf, a man driven by his pride and sense of destiny, would feel the weight of this betrayal like a heavy burden on his soul. As he lies bleeding out, his golden eyes fix on his SO, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something in them—sadness, perhaps?

"You… too?" His voice is quiet, the words barely audible.

When his SO hisses their cruel truth, the flicker dies, leaving only a cold, dark void. He thought he could trust them, that they were different, but in the end, they were just like the rest—weak, unworthy, and treacherous.

He closes his eyes, accepting his fate with a grim silence. There's no more fight left in him, only a deep, sorrowful resignation. His last breath is a whisper, lost to the wind, as he succumbs to the cold embrace of death.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Reaction: Unrestrained Fury, Denial, and a Roar of Defiance

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf, the embodiment of raw power and unyielding ambition, would be consumed by an overwhelming sense of fury and denial. As he lies on the ground, bloodied and broken, he glares up at his SO, his eyes burning with an intense fire.

"Traitor!" His voice, though weak, is still full of anger and disbelief.

When his SO mocks him, calling him pathetic, it only fuels his rage. How dare they? He had given them power, trusted them to stand by his side, and they repay him with this?

With his last ounce of strength, he roars in defiance, refusing to accept this end. His eyes blaze with hatred, and he swears that not even death will stop him. His final moments are filled with a desperate, futile struggle against the darkness closing in, refusing to go quietly.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Reaction: Bitter Amusement, Deep Hurt, and Final Acceptance

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf, who was more methodical and deliberate in his approach, would experience a profound sense of betrayal tinged with bitter amusement. As he lies on the ground, his body failing, he looks up at his SO, a pained smile on his lips.

"Is that… how it is?" His voice is soft, almost amused, but there’s a deep hurt in his eyes.

When his SO delivers their final, cruel words, the amusement fades, leaving only a deep sadness. He had allowed himself to care, to believe that he could have something more than just power. And this is how it ends.

He lets out a weary sigh, the fight leaving him as he accepts the inevitable. There’s no point in struggling anymore. His last thoughts are of what could have been, as he slips away into the darkness, his heart heavy with regret.

Demise

Reaction: Rage, Shock, and a Lasting Curse

Demise, the embodiment of pure malice and hatred, would be struck with a rare moment of shock before his anger consumes him. As he lies on the ground, his dark power waning, he glares up at his SO, his fiery eyes wide with disbelief.

"You… dare… betray me?" His voice is a low growl, filled with a mixture of rage and disbelief.

When his SO spits out their venomous words, calling him pathetic, it’s as if a final, cruel irony has been played on him. He, the eternal force of destruction, brought down not by a hero, but by someone he thought he had under his control.

His last moments are filled with a deep, burning hatred, his final breath a curse on his SO, on the hero, on the goddess, and on the entire world. He swears that his malice will never fade, that he will return, stronger and more terrible than before. His final thought is a promise of vengeance, as his body dissolves into the darkness, leaving only a lingering hatred behind.

Summary: Each Ganondorf and Demise would react with a mix of shock, betrayal, and anger to such a cruel and unexpected twist. Their reactions range from rage and defiance to deep sorrow and resignation, each reflecting their unique personalities and the depth of the bond they believed they had with their SO. This betrayal would be a shattering blow, one that would leave a lasting scar on their souls, even in their final moments.

********************************************************************

BONUS: WE CANNOT LEAVE IT LIKE THIS I CRIED OK-

How would the Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) & Demise react to taking up, and finding it out to be all a nightmare? Their SO is jostled awake from their sudden wake up, and they are concerned. They look as loving as ever, still deeply in love with the Demon King, their wedding band on their hand even in sleep.

Certainly! The idea of such a devastating betrayal being just a nightmare is a powerful contrast, and it would undoubtedly evoke a strong emotional reaction from each Ganondorf and Demise upon waking. Here’s how each would react to discovering it was all a bad dream, with their SO still very much in love and devoted to them:

Wind Waker Ganondorf

Reaction: Relief and Tenderness

Wind Waker Ganondorf wakes with a start, his heart pounding in his chest, the echoes of the nightmare still clinging to his mind. For a moment, he struggles to discern reality from the terror he just experienced. But then he turns to see his SO beside him, peaceful and concerned as they rouse, their wedding band glinting in the dim light.

Relief washes over him, and he releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Gently, he pulls them into his arms, holding them close as if to reassure himself that they’re truly there.

“It was just a dream,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to their forehead. “You’re still here with me.”

He holds them for a long time, grateful that the nightmare wasn’t real and that he still has their love.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf

Reaction: Disoriented but Quietly Grateful

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf wakes suddenly, his breath heavy, his mind still filled with the images of betrayal. He blinks rapidly, trying to push the nightmare away, and looks to his side, where his SO is beginning to stir, concerned by his sudden movement.

Seeing them there, so close and loving, with their wedding band as proof of their bond, he feels a wave of relief. He doesn’t say much—words aren’t his strong suit—but the tension in his body slowly eases as he realizes the truth.

He reaches out, brushing a thumb over their cheek, his usual stoic expression softened by a rare tenderness. “It was nothing,” he says quietly, though his hand lingers on theirs. “Just a dream.”

He doesn’t want to admit how much it shook him, but he’s grateful to have them beside him, more than he could ever put into words.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf

Reaction: Deep Relief and Protective Instincts

Twilight Princess Ganondorf jolts awake, his powerful frame tense, his eyes wild as he tries to shake the lingering fear from his nightmare. His heart races as he quickly scans the room, only to find his SO beside him, rousing from their slumber with concern in their eyes.

The sight of them, so warm and loving, with their wedding band gleaming softly, fills him with an overwhelming sense of relief. He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Without a word, he pulls them close, cradling them in his arms with a protective grip. “It was a nightmare,” he murmurs, his voice rough but gentle. “You’re safe, with me.”

He doesn’t let go for a long while, needing to feel their warmth, to reassure himself that they are real and that their love is still strong.

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf

Reaction: Anger at the Nightmare, Soothing Reassurance

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf wakes up with a start, his body tense and his mind racing from the intensity of the nightmare. His first instinct is to be angry, frustrated that his mind would conjure such a betrayal. But then he turns to his SO, who is now waking up beside him, their eyes filled with concern.

The sight of them, still wearing their wedding band, still looking at him with love, immediately calms the storm inside him. He lets out a breath, shaking his head slightly as if to dispel the remnants of the nightmare.

“It was nothing, just a bad dream,” he says, his voice steadying. He reaches out to stroke their hair, offering them a reassuring smile. “You’re here, and that’s all that matters.”

He’ll hold them close, taking comfort in their presence, the anger fading as he focuses on the love they share.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf

Reaction: Subdued Relief and Gentle Affection

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf awakens abruptly, his heart pounding and his mind racing as he tries to shake the nightmare from his thoughts. His first instinct is to check on his SO, who is beginning to stir beside him, their eyes full of concern.

Seeing them there, looking at him with such love, with their wedding band catching the light, he feels a profound sense of relief. The fear and betrayal from the nightmare fade as he reaches out to take their hand.

“It was just a dream,” he murmurs, his voice low and calm. He squeezes their hand gently, drawing them closer. “You’re still mine.”

He presses a kiss to their temple, holding them close as the remnants of the nightmare melt away, leaving only the warmth of their love.

Demise

Reaction: Fury Turned to Protective Instincts

Demise awakens with a roar, his fiery temper flaring as he fights off the remnants of the nightmare. For a moment, he’s disoriented, his mind filled with the false betrayal. But then he looks to his side and sees his SO, waking up with concern in their eyes, their wedding band glinting in the dim light.

The sight of them, so pure and loving, calms the inferno inside him. His anger quickly fades, replaced by a fierce protective instinct. He reaches out, pulling them into his arms with a surprising gentleness.

“It was a nightmare,” he growls softly, his voice still rough but tempered by affection. “You are mine, and no one will take you from me.”

He holds them close, as if shielding them from the darkness of his mind, grateful that the nightmare was nothing more than a twisted vision.

Summary: Each Ganondorf and Demise would experience a mix of shock, relief, and deep gratitude upon realizing that the nightmare was not real. Their SO's presence and unwavering love would ground them, soothing the lingering fear and hurt. Whether through tenderness, quiet reassurance, or fierce protectiveness, they would find solace in their SO's love, cherishing the bond they share more than ever.

[keilemlucent]

pretty eyes & starshine: i

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i   ||   part ii   ||   part iii

beta’ed: @shadowworks & @keiqos​ (thank you!! 💞)

word count: ~9.4k

Keigo surrenders to losing himself in the blank-walled, temporary home he inhabits. He finds familiarity in the routine of aches, pains and pills. 

You’re his only solace. 

warnings: bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, dissociation, suicidal ideation, alcohol as a coping mechanism and graphic description of sustained injury

a/n: oh wow so here it is, big sad fic :’^) part one!! it’s canon divergent from manga chapter 296 onwards.

this one has been a long time coming. please mind the warnings!! this fic deals a lot with trauma and mental illness in tandem. the warnings are going to change with the coming parts, so please be mindful. i don’t wanna get too sappy, but this piece has been my Baby for the past few months, and i’m excited to finally share. that being said, enjoy loves 💞

Everyone is fucked up after the War.

There is no kindness in an aftermath like this one, not so soon, and certainly not with dried blood of old comrades and mud still caking under its metaphorical fingernails. The world was in shambles, and every hero is along with it.

There is something horrifying about being at the center of it all, Hawks, no, Keigo thinks solemnly, all too often. 

He’s used to the attention he’s getting, touches and poking and prodding by near strangers. Except, he was used to exclamations of how great and powerful and remarkable he was. Now, all the attention he receives is followed by little sighs and sad, broken eyes.

He’s sure he looks equally as sad; Keigo had been nothing but an empty shell since the War had ended and he’d been carted off to his hospital room. Numb despite all of his burns. 

It’s the shock, he tells himself, he’ll snap out of it any day.

Any day.

...

And it is any day.

He wakes up to screaming from the next room over, agonized wails that pierce the air as his morning nurse enters. She’s over-worked and haggard while checking his vitals with a forced smile. They don’t make conversation with him much anymore, and Keigo doesn’t have the energy to try and force it. There isn’t enough in him to pretend that he’s okay enough to banter with folks. 

If he still had his wings, he would’ve wrapped himself up tight in the plumage and let himself rot away in some corner. He’d let the dissociated numbness fade, however long it took, and then succumb to whatever psychological wounds revealed themselves. 

Waste away, all alone.

But he doesn't have that luxury. He is in an overcrowded hospital with swarms of civilians and heroes, all stuffed in one place because the world doesn’t have the time to differentiate between the wounded, nor the space or resources to give different resources. Though, Keigo is a special case, hence why he’s had healers coming to him for the past three weeks since the War trying to coax his body into genesizing a new pair of wings. 

The Commission’s hospital has all the bells-and-whistles that a medical professional could need, but Keigo, and so many others, are facing problems that don’t have good and easy roads to healing. 

That’s assuming healing was even possible.

Keigo is convinced, has been convinced, that there is no way to come back from the War, nor the absence on his back, nor the shouts and cries of pain that echo around the hospital like a new genre of music that Keigo so desperately wants to scrub from his brain.

Things change, it’s inevitable. Everyone falls eventually, and he was just used to flying.

It’s a harder descent. 

...

Keigo doesn’t meet you on any day, he meets you on a lonely night.

The evenings and early mornings were the most peaceful at the hospital. Most folks, three weeks after the end of it all, had serious enough injuries that they had to be somewhat sedated to sleep, either for physical or mental pain keeping them from sleep.

It’s morose, Keigo thinks, quietly and privately, but he craves those hours. All he hears then is the hum of air vents and beeps of his own medical machinery. None of the audible agony of the folks he was sworn to protect.

He’s slept most of the day, not lucid enough to do much else, and the nurses haven’t been giving him sedatives unless he asked (though he always did.) Without forced quiet, he’s antsy, fingers twitching and flaring the new (and growing) pains rooted in his (empty, isn’t that horrifying—) back.

He rouses himself, adjusting his scratching hospital garb (thin sweats and a cheap crew neck with the back almost entirely cut away). With his IV pole at his side, he resolves to take a few laps and quiet himself, hopefully.

(Keigo would need sedatives, he always did, but it was nice to play pretend that he didn’t. It made things easier for a precious hour or two.)

His laps are usually quick, despite how much his body aches when he walks. So much new, burnt tissue that needed to learn how to move, how to live again, kept him throbbing and gritting his teeth.

Masochism be damned, he keeps at it during his sleepless nights. Physical therapy wasn’t an option when the world was caving in with him at the epicenter.

There’s a common room at the end of the foyer of identical (filled) hospital rooms, just a collection of stuffy, uncomfortable couches that face an aged TV and a wide bay of windows. It’s rarely used, just a formality for when the space of the hospital had regularly hurt victims and heroes. When it wasn’t bearing so much weight. 

Sometimes, he would stop to idly regard the mostly barren world around the hospital. Far from the cities, a little hideaway for heroes and their loved ones to heal in privacy. Other than sheer distance, there is a thick, organic shield around the complex.  It’s a towering forest, man-planted with identical types of trees in perfect rows. 

It’s grim in its predictability. 

(When did he get so fucking pensive?)

(Oh yeah, too much time locked in his goddamn skull.)

He hadn’t been planning to have any inner musings that night.

But, that night, he notes that he is not alone. 

On one of the hard couches, you sit, with your own IV-pole companion and injuries, an arm carried in a monochromatic sling and set in a hard cast.

You turn to him, blinking wide eyes at him.

There’s a single lamp on, and the light dances in your eyes with its own unexpected rhythm.

Something compels Keigo to smile, cocky, like he used to, and greet you with a little wave, and a finger to his lips.

Your expressions melts, a hand going over your mouth to stifle a giggle.

It’s like you’re pulling him after that, he finds himself resting across from you.

You must look like a pair, he realizes. You’re greasy, he’s greasy. He’s got a fine layer of built-up stubble that shouldn’t be called anything other than impressive peach fuzz (not that Keigo’s seen it, he’s felt it. The idea of looking in a mirror makes him sick to his stomach. Though you don’t have any pseudo-beard, you’ve got your own unkempt look and feel that makes you two kindred without sharing a word.

It feels comfortable, warm.

“Hi,” you speak first, voice soft and gentle. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah, who can?” Keigo replies, shaking his head. “But what about you? Midnight oil doesn’t burn without a cause, you know.” 

Your expression is also painful in the way it’s so open, yet worn (most everyone had locked up by now, the ones in the hospital and Keigo imagined the ones outside of it too.) 

“I like the sky— the stars are pretty.” You sigh, wistful. “I watch for shooting stars.”

The thought, the significance of that obvious wanting, makes something pang deep in his chest. Childlike hope in a place like this, foolish as well as frail.

“Trying to get a wish?” Keigo clicked his tongue. “Smart.”

“No, no— wishing doesn’t... suit me, right now.” You snorted, shaking your head, the light in your eyes dancing, “I just think they’re pretty.”

Keigo blinks, unable to stop the way his eyes widen.

Your posture reads nothing but earnestness and vulnerability, so freely given (so undeserved) without a hint of pullback.

“What do you want to be called?”

“... Excuse me?” Keigo is not used to his thoughts being interrupted in the blanket of dark that he feels most comfortable in. Your words shock him enough with their meaning, let alone the way you’re so brazen. 

“I, uh,” You stumble on your words. “I know who you are, but I also saw that whole broadcast, which I’m going to easily assume you don’t want to talk about. But, I don’t know how much you want to be called ‘Hawks’ at this point either.”

His mouth is dry.

“So, I ask instead,” You lean forward, your IV line pulling the slightest bit and you wince. His discomfort must be very fucking apparent, because you backtrack in moments. “... Or, neither. I can call you something else, too.”

“... A nickname, for someone you don’t even know?” Keigo, Hawks, whoever he is now struggles with words. There’s too many, and they’re all too fast, and he doesn’t have his wings to catch up to them or outrun them— 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrug with a lazy smile. “I’ll call you... pretty eyes. How about that?”

Keigo does have pretty eyes. They’re gold, light and glittering amber in the lowlight. Before he, ya’ know, lost them, and when things were good, but awful, but normal, he darkened the organic marks around his canthi with liquid eyeliner. He liked makeup, prettied himself up and accentuated all the good he had. Preening.

None of that is left, just what organically was on his skin, and he hasn’t seen it in its raw state in years, and like fuck if he was going to look in a mirror just to figure out if his natural eyeliner was half as good as that by his own hand. 

“Sure, that works,” He relaxes, mirroring your expression like the practiced... pro he is. “What do I call you, starshine?”

You roll your eyes, but nothing about you fades as you tell him your name, something that calms and fills him, “But, you can call me starshine if you want. Sounds nice.”

It’s sweet.

So, Keigo greets you.

“Nice to meet you, starshine.”

...

That’s the first time you kept each other’s company. Most of it is quiet, you truly do just want to watch the stars. Keigo did with you, tracing the shadows of clouds and moonlight with his eyes.

(Occasionally, his gaze shifts to you, regarding your figure with the same care for only a moment before returning to the sky you both miss.)

Eventually, the quiet heat of it puts him half to sleep, and he bids you goodnight.

You wave goodbye, rising as he away.

The light isn’t in your eyes anymore, and your warmth feels a little too far away.

...

The next days are long.

He slips into that shell-state again, where he’s a husk that stares emptily at the ceiling as the Commission tries to piece him together to a fraction of what he once was. 

They fail, each time, because no healer they’ve brought can regenerate quirk-formed appendages, but he commends their efforts all the same. It’s out of desperation, sure, but he’s heard whispers of the new generation. In recalling his own sidekicks, he isn’t as scared for the future. 

(Everyone else’s future. He’s so terrified of his own that he turns extra numb if he thinks about it.) 

Selfishly, he just wants his wings for himself. They’d keep him plenty company. If he ever did get them back, he’d fly somewhere, faraway and alone to live out his days under his feathers and feel as empty as he wanted. 

They fuss over him all day, not knowing those desires. They are private, and he only puts on his old, self-confident bravado so they don’t lock him up somewhere to have his brain picked and to fill the new holes with pill-shaped gauze. 

As established, Keigo was content to rot.

(He can’t fully parse all of his feelings and they consume him.)

The healers for the week all failed, doing nothing but making his back bow and burn. It’s painful. Obviously, trying to stitch a body back together, or rather making a body make when it was so tired of creating—

(Feather after feather after feather, for how long?)

He’s glad his sessions are in a different room, a spare, horrifyingly metallic exam room across the hospital. It reeks like iron and isopropyl alcohol, but Keigo doesn’t mind. The filmy paper that rolls from the exam table gets soaked with his sweat as opposed to his familiar bed dressings. 

Not to mention, it’s nice, not having to hear his neighbor’s screams and pleadings to God, any god, for reprieve. Calming. 

(He feels less guilty. Less like it was his own hand that scarred up their bodies. If he can’t hear them, he only thinks of his own agony under ‘helping’ hands.)

His body is exhausted at the end of each day, and even his restlessness fades with the necessities of his body.

He doesn’t see you, and practically forgets about you.

It’s a week or so later when he takes one of his strolls, and finds you tucked away into your nook, dimly lit and with a blanket over your lap.

Keigo feels it as he nears you, that comfort that your expression bleeds into his very soul. Even as he watches your healthy hand nervously toy with the thin knit in your lap, it doesn’t dim you.

The lamplight dances in your eyes as you nod to him, “Fancy seeing you here, pretty eyes.” 

“You’d never know it, but I live just down the hallway— me,” He touches his chest proudly, surprised by his own jest. 

You gave a fake gasp, mirroring him easily, “Never knew I had such a well-known soul in my neighborhood. Forgive my transgression.”

Bending at the waist, as much as you can with your right leg extended, straight, you choke on laughter.

Keigo follows you in it, giggling, genuinely giggling, high and light and girlish like he’d never heard from himself before.

He snapped his mouth shut, thickly swallowing and shaking his head.

“No need to be shy,” You assured him with an affectionate turn of the head. “You have a lovely laugh.”

“Now you’re just flirting with me, cute.”

Your head tilted farther, confused, “I’m simply being kind to you.”

Why didn’t he have the snark to reply to that? Probably because he was half-dead and on painkillers for nearly a month. He’d beat himself up about it later, maybe.

There wasn’t an ounce of malice in your tone, just earnestness that tugged at his own insecurities.

You backpedaled. “How was your day?”

Keigo takes a few moments to respond, shaking his head without mind to the way his too-long hair flops in his face. 

The banter isn’t forced, but it’s not welcomed yet.

As comfortable as you feel to him, Keigo isn’t comfortable.

“Same old, same old,” Living hell. “Boring, mostly. Painful, but dull. It’s crazy how much hell smells like cheap disinfectant, huh?” 

You agree, quietly, “I’m pretty sure there’s many hells in this place.”

Keigo doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t. 

You both regard the stars again with growing reverence. Specks of light dance back in your eyes as you both settle into the hard cushions like they were made of goose down and Sherpa. 

...

Your conversations are... disjointed, to say the least. 

There’s an inability for words and phrases to flow between you. There’s starts and stops, stalls like an engine that putters on tarry oil without ever truly firing. There are good feelings, still, safety in silence before words as you stargaze together through the comfort of a window.

It should feel disarming, to be so far from the sky yet have no way to reach it. And it is, but Keigo can swallow the reality these days. It’s easier when there’s someone on the mend close by, sharing in the discomfort of a rawed mind and the comfort of a yellow-toned fluorescent bulb.

It’s unspoken kinship. Keigo never had time for it in the past, but now it was all he had. There had to be some cruel irony in it (as if there wasn’t enough in his life), but he couldn’t make himself mind. 

Everything he’d once excelled at, everything he had was gone. He was barren and stripped (don’t think about it—), exposed to the elements in all the worst ways. At least the hospital was clean and safe, relatively. 

It feels safest with you near.

Sure, your conversations were clearly that of two horribly broken people, but that wasn’t new or surprising. It simply was.

“Do you know constellations?” You ask one night, a colder one, where you’ve got two blankets over your lap. 

Keigo thought for a moment, “A handful, but I never took to stargazing, you know?”

You don’t relate, just chew your lip, the light of the dim lamp dancing across your irises.

“Can I show you some?” 

“...Constellations?”

“What else?” You crack a smile. “Come on, pretty eyes.”

Whatever you’d like, he’d do. 

He can’t refuse, he’s already getting weak for you. 

Shifting, Keigo joins you on your typical couch for the first time. Your IV poles, thrumming and humming their own rhymes harmonize, quietly and mostly imperceptible. 

You regard him even more warmly, so close, a little smile playing on your lips.

“What’s your sign?”

Keigo deadpans, “What?”

“Like... astrology. What’s your sign?”

You wiggle your eyebrows, knowing the double-meaning of your words. 

Flirting again.

Since when had he been so bad at it?

“Capricorn,” He huffs back. He keeps his back off the stone-like cushions of the couch— his scarring had been itchy the whole day prior— so itchy— 

You tap the plastic-y fabric gap between the two of you, grabbing his attention, “Hey, pretty eyes. Stick with me, let me show you where that one is.”

So, you do.

Your light-filled eyes trace the sky’s nighttime freckles, searching until you find what you’re looking for.

“There,” Your finger raises, tracing the patterns in the air. “That’s Capricorn, can you see?”

Not really, the stars are just a meaningless smatter. If there’s some sort of pattern he’s supposed to find, he comes up with none. 

“Not in the slightest,” Keigo rolls his eyes. “Show me again?”

You don’t reply, but rather scoot a bit closer, mirror his hunch and pose with precision and tiny adjustments. 

He doesn’t dare to breathe as you carefully grab his arm, extending it. You lay your cheek over his bicep, watching from the closest view to his own that you could. 

“Do you see now?” 

The only starlight he sees is right in front of him, soft cheek pressed against atrophying muscles. Sharing your heat so graciously as you would so easily come to, you chatter about the stories that are written in the stars, by all cultures, for so long.

Keigo hears, but he’s far more focused on how he wishes you were even closer.

...

After that night, you always share the same couch. 

You face forward, right leg always extended and stiff-looking. Keigo doesn’t mind, hardly notices. He faces you, fragile back bandaged and kept away from the unforgiving grit of the uncomfortable couch. It looks a bit uncomfortable, the posing of it all, but with the words flowing easier, neither of you mind.

You keep showing him stars, the constellations you can remember and see in the night sky. 

Keigo makes fun and crafts his own, connecting new dots and winding stories about them.

“See those three there?” He guides your hand, close enough to share your breath. “That’s the comb of the chicken. Star comb, if you will.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and pulling your hand from his grip, “There’s no cock in the stars, pretty eyes. Chickens can’t fly anyways.”

You both freeze.

Keigo’s mouth goes dry—

Chicken can’t fly.

As much as you’re both learning to be human again, there isn’t talk of your injuries. Maybe, there’s mutual curiosity (you’ve been here two months. just for a broken arm, why?), but like fuck Keigo wants to broach the subject.

“S-sorry,” you stumble over your words, physically retreating. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

It is a fact, chickens can’t fly, but Keigo isn’t a chicken. He’s a debauched, defamed hero whose home is the same set of a milky white, hospital ward walls. Once, a real hero, before the war, before selling his morals just for a chance at rest, before blue flame— burning— 

“Pretty eyes,” Your voice trembles, shaking and lonesome. “Come back here, now. Come on.”

You’re holding his cheeks, unkempt nails pressing (blessedly) a bit too hard into his cheeks. The heat of you is so close, almost scalding him, but he wants more of it, more of the heat that doesn’t burn—

“You’re okay, pretty eyes, s-see?” You hold yourself together, jerking your head to the wide window and glittering stars. “We’re just stargazing.” 

Keigo’s has tears leaking down his face, but neither of you acknowledge them. You release him, quietly spinning another tale about a hero hung in the cosmos. He thanks you for it silently by tugging you into his side. 

(It was the first night you really touched him.)

(The light in your eyes was so close, he wanted it all for himself.)

...

They’re running out of healers to try.

From the weakest to the strongest quirk, no one could revive his dead wings. There was no root to push from the scar tissue, nor resolve left in Keigo to try and make new pins and feathers sprout.

His back isn’t fertile. It’s just as poisoned as the rest of him.

...

He wonders where you disappear to during the day. He takes his strolls then, too. Waves to nurses these days, not charming, just friendly, trying to make a little brightness. 

There’s one day where he asks one of the nurses he knows best for a pair of scissors.

She looks at him, worried, “Don’t tell me we need to put you on psych watch.”

“What? No,” Keigo shakes his head, shaggy hair quivering around the frame of his face. “I just need a bit of a haircut.” 

“... We can ask the Commission to bring someone in—”

“I can do it myself.”

She doesn’t argue with the firmness of his voice, rather, she hands him a pair of safety scissors with bright purple handles. They’re for a child, but Keigo’s fine with that. They’d do. 

When he was younger, and in a pinch (and so poor he tried to eat grass and lick scraps from metallic packaging of discarded junk food wrappers) he’d cut his hair with his own feathers.

Safety scissors would be even easier.

It did mean that he had to confront his own visage, which he had gotten too good at avoiding.

The bathroom in his room is small, it would’ve been claustrophobic if he was still carrying a twenty-five-foot wingspan. 

But, he isn’t. It was just him and the scars on his back that he definitely wasn’t ready to see. 

He’s caught glimpses of himself over the past weeks, but nothing substantial. No view that would’ve given himself time to scrutinize over his imperfection. 

The dull hospital mirror reveals too much about him. It feels too vulnerable, makes his chest tighten, as he stares himself in his ‘pretty eyes’.

Purple stamps below his eyes, probably not from sleeplessness itself, just the sheer exhaustion of living. The one under his left is an odd maroon color, mixing with the scar that is burned into that half of his face.

The skin was once soft, plump cheeks always tended too and well taken care of by expensive skincare products. Now, it’s charred and gaunt. Healing, but still obviously scarred heavy and deep.  The weak beard he’s been growing (accidently) is patchy around the thickened tissue. 

It bothers him— 

It doesn’t look like him in the mirror. 

It helps to take care of himself for the first time in a long while. 

He shaves with the cheap foam and single blade razor they’d given him in the toiletries pack the first days he was there, while he was still numbed out and half-dead. The metal glides over his skin, stripping away the numbness just a little. The stubble and cream slide down the drain and away.

His hair is different. The waves had for so long been pushed back and held that way with the winds of his flights. The longer, feathery patches now hang around his face, dangling down and mingling with the too-long sections that curl over his ears and down his neck.

Wetting his hair, he cuts away what he can. 

It’s blunt, messy, and not elegant. 

All the same, the trim feels good. 

Though, his mood goes sour when the screaming starts for the day.

The far wall of the bathroom was shared by him and his shrieking neighbor, and he took great care to never shower when they were singing their awful chorus. It grates on his ears; he should’ve been a bit empathetic to their suffering, but he didn’t care that much. It was so regular, that the screaming that might’ve once sent each one of his feathers (don’t think about, don’t fucking think about it) sharp as the razor in his hand, didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Just a poke at his temple, a jab and a drop of water that irks him more than anything else.

It is a... somewhat pleasant distraction. He can focus more on his fellow patient than his own haggard appearance, the scar, the lack of red at his back— 

It’s all okay, ‘okay’, until the patient starts babbling.

“M-make it stop!” 

Keigo stills.

A scream tears through the drywall. Even without his wings, it makes him thrum, far-too sensitive.

“Help!” The voice yelps. “HELP!” 

There’s a thud and thump from the other room.

“Please, please!”

Keigo’s heart stutters in his chest, and the razor falls from his hand, clattering into the sink.

“MAKE IT STOP!”

It’s you.

It’s your screaming and shrieking that’s burrowed in his ears. It’s your voice that’s trembling in desperation that has him running out of his room, nearly pulling out his IVs as the pole teeters and follows behind him. 

Why are you screaming?

Why have you always been screaming?

A nurse is trying to stop him, urging him to settle but he can’t. There's an urgency in his chest he hasn’t felt since back before and he has to heed it. He needs to.

He pulls his forearm from the nurse’s grasp, hissing in his own pain, muscles pulling and aching with disuse but he doesn’t care.

The nurses drag him back from your door, and they almost have him, almost have him on the ground.

And then he smells burning—

Cloth.

Flesh.

And something in him snaps.

He clocks the nearest nurse with a tight fist, ignoring his atrophied muscles and kicking with everything he could muster.

They release him, probably out of shock. (He’d been such a model patient, so complacent and quiet until then.) 

Then, he stumbles into your room, and sees you, and wants to die.

...

There’s plenty of times in his life where Keigo felt like an animal. When the Commission first got their hands on him, they took to studying and picking his quirk about to figure out the most efficient way to rebuild it to their needs and uses. Now then, he felt very much like an experiment, only half-human. He was too young to really ‘get’ it, but the feeling persisted.

Sometimes, he felt similarly when he played celebrity. The talk shows, the modeling and media felt hoops he had to jump through just to get a decent night’s sleep. It was an additional job aside from heroics, one he excelled at and entertained him. But that didn’t mean each flash of a camera didn’t suck him dry of a bit of his dignity. 

He was sure you had to be feeling similarly.

You’re writhing and arching in your bed, curls of smoke rising from your papery hospital gown. Every machine in your room is screaming with you, bloody and loud and angry—

And scared. Keigo recognized well, and it drove pins into his heart to realize it was you.

It’s even worse when he realizes some part of you is burning. 

At your bedside, he freezes.

Nylon straps wrap around your wrist, around your cast, and keep you held tight to the bed. You’re tied down, held to the plastic bed frame as you wretch and scream.

You don’t even notice him.

The smoke rises from your burning hospital gown. He rips it away, tears the burning section away with his shaking hand. It’s crass, and Keigo sees a bit too much.  The gauze wrapping your leg below is burning as well, in little veins of char that burns black and smoldering. 

Keigo tears it all away, he tears and tears—

And then he sees the wound.

He was trained, once, to see this type of horror and not bat an eye. That training was gone, and all that remained was his starshine with a writhing, molten wound.

Keigo is numb as the nurses drag him back to his room, trying to decide if he prefers the apathy and numbness to injury that his old heroism gave him, or the blinding pain of empathy when someone you... care about is hurt.

He can’t decide which he’d rather suffer with. 

...

You appear in the common room a few nights later.

Keigo still takes his walks in the late evening, even if you aren’t there. If anything, he needs them more. He’s restless, always listening for the screams or howls from the next room over. His annoyance towards them was gone, and all that remained was a concern that knotted in the pit of his stomach. 

There’s a sigh of relief on his lips when he finds you, nestled into a pile of blankets with your IV pole, watching the stars with sad eyes.

He joins you on your couch, cracking a decent joke that you don’t respond to.

Then, there’s silence.

It’s as loud as the stars are bright. The expanse of sound is filled by the hum of the cold air and distant beeping.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice shakes. “You shouldn’t have seen me like that. It’s not... Easy to look at. Or, I imagine it’s not.”

Keigo wants to rip the apology from your tongue and burn it.

“No, please, it’s alright,” He’s begging too much. “I get it.”

As much as he can, anyways.

You’re quiet again, biting your lip so hard it must be close to breaking skin.

“Can we... talk about things?” You ask, softer. “I can’t keep pretending.”

“...’Pretending’?” Keigo knows, but he selfishly wants to hear you say it.

“Well, you didn’t think I’ve been here for two months for my bum arm, right?” You laugh weakly. “And I’m well-aware that you don’t have wings.”

We just don’t talk about it. 

“It’s nicer to look at the stars and pretend everything’s fine,” Keigo lays the statement down and regrets it.

Your fist tightens, jaw clenching.

And there’s more silence.

It’s deafening to Keigo, he wants to speak, scream, but you’re quiet next to him. He can fill voids with his voice so, so easily, yet he turns in on himself.

“I know, it’s all hard,” Tears drip down from your words, though your cheeks remain dry. “I know, but there was a War two months ago, and we’re still holed up in a place like this, and we never talk about why.”

You turn to him, light dancing slowly in your eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no sound comes out.

“... I didn’t want to ask.” Keigo speaks, gaze shifting down to your leg. He questioned why a broken arm would keep you here, but you can’t just ask that. “It’s bad form to ask a stranger about their injuries unnecessarily when they’re traumatized.”

“But we’re not strangers, not anymore.”

Keigo can’t disagree. 

...

You had been in a conbini when Gigantomakia tore through your little suburb. It was a few miles away, but the ground shook as if the goliath was just outside the automatic doors.

Your demon was near, though.

It was a man from the PLF who tore into you so badly. Just some random, emboldened civilian who ascribed to Destro’s ideology hard enough to think about taking out his frustrations on ‘weaker-quirked’ individuals.

That meant the young couple getting slushies in the corner, the old man behind the cash register, and you.

(You’d told your roommate you’d be home quick to help her study—)

(Your roommate is dead, under several tons of rubble.)

“The old man died before the heroes even started trying to rescue anyone. The couple was begging each other to hold on, but only one of them lasted. He died within a few weeks of being taken here.”

There was just you.

You’d hardly been touched by the man, the fucking villain, who’d set his mark on you. But it was more than enough to leave a writhing scar.

Keigo asks to see it, and quietly, you oblige him.

You’re in a gown, you always have been. The hem of it is pulled up by your visibility shaking fingers, and slowly reveals the scar in the lowlight of the ever-present lamp. He’d seen it once, but that didn’t change how startling it was. 

It’s molten.

The skin is gnarled, twisting and scarred worse than anything Keigo’s ever seen. It was like the gore of a torn flesh was frozen over your right side, from your calf, to your thighs to your pretty hips—

“It goes higher, but that’s not exactly couth to show you,” you joke, but neither of you laugh. 

“... It’s not moving anymore?”

“Oh, yeah. It calms down, when it’s dark. Nighttime and all. It stops being so ornery.” 

Keigo has a laundry list of questions, but with the expression on your face that just bleeds exhaustion into the air, and the fresh burns from the restraints on your wrists, he keeps quiet. 

Maybe, three months ago, he’d jabber on about the injury, try to gode some information out on the villain, profile him, track him and beat the tar out of him for touching you—

But this is the present, and Keigo is a wingless soul. All he has is a prescription for painkillers on a rigid schedule, and the awareness that you both appreciate each other.

Keigo scoots to your uninjured side, lifting his arm up and around your shoulder. It hurts, it fucking hurts, but he doesn’t mind.

You tense for a moment, turning to him with wide eyes, scared like he’s never seen.

Then, you melt into him.

...

Keigo’s busy with healers the week, though none speak his language, literally. They’re international, foreign aid that’s been flown in to try to pick up the disaster of a society that’s been left in the wake of the War and the dissolution of Tartarus.

None of them make progress. 

As much as it burns (haha) him to his core, he’s accepting the reality, slowly but surely. 

...

Endeavor visits him.

It’s the morning after a particularly sweet night with you. You still sit together in the starlight, though you’ve run out of constellations to show him. It’s less quiet than it used to be, just little banter that flows between the two of you. It feels more genuine than his old bluntness, welcome after so much odd tension when you first started enjoying the heat of each other’s presence and the far-off stars.

You’d taken to spending time together during the day as well... As much as you could. Strapping you to your bed was for your own safety. Your broken arm had snapped the first few days at the hospital because of the severity of your spasms and flares. The nurses keep you wrapped up, but Keigo drags a chair close to your bed and talks to you as much as he can.

It helps you relax.

Though the days fill with tension as you try to negate the inevitability of your molten scar coming to life, nights remain calm.

And so, so sweet.

You’ve taken to tucking into his side, telling him little treasured facts about the cosmos. It’s easier to guide his eyes like that, as your cheek rests over his collarbone. 

It lingers with him, the feeling of your casual touch, so tentatively offered and so graciously received.

He traces his own constellations over your gown, mindful of the flesh beneath that heats beneath his palm when he gets too close.

After one of those wonderful, early nights, Enji Todoroki enters his room with all of the gusto one would expect. Which is not very much, but the sheer presence of him is enough to make Keigo quake.

 Just like the little boy from Kyushu, Keigo regards him with stars in his eyes. 

The hero, not a speck of flame on him (thank god) pulls up a chair near his bed. Keigo sits cross-legged and cocks his head to the side.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, number one?” Keigo smiles.

“Number fifteen.”

“... What?”

“Since my injuries, I’m mostly on bedrest,” Enji replied, folding his hands on his chin. “I’m number fifteen now, and that number will more than likely just drop. I’m not much of a hero with only one lung. I’m planning to officially retire at the end of the month.”

Keigo’s chest goes tight and it feels like he’s joking. He tosses on a tight smile. 

“This is hardly time for a pillar—“

“I’m no pillar. I never was,” Enji sighs, running a hand over his scarred cheek. “The kids can handle this.”

Keigo breaks so easily these days.

“That’s not fair—” He had been tossed into this all too early and god it fucked him up— 

“Hawks,” Enji sighed. “There’s hardly anyone left to fight. They’re either dead, missing part of themselves, or gone.”

“So, you’re giving up?”

“If I didn’t, I’d die.”

Coward.

No, just honest and smart. 

“Since when are you this selfish?” Keigo’s own words surprise him, but he doesn’t back down. “And this wordy, number one? You’ve changed.”

He spits the last phrase like an insult. He hates himself for it and would hate himself even more for it later. 

Enji’s face remains solid and unwavering. The twitch in his brow is the only indication that Keigo’s words were even heard. 

“Since we lost, Keigo. Things have changed.”

Keigo knew, of course, but it didn’t stop the anger from rolling his belly.

“Oh, like I don’t fucking know,” If Keigo still had his wings, they would’ve been extended and fluffed, angry as the pinched skin of his forehead. 

This was his hero, he couldn’t be giving up too— 

“Rest, Hawks,” Enji stand up, “You deserve it.”

Seems Endeavor really died. Enji’s face is worn, his expression neutral and jaw slack. He looks hollowed out and empty, not an ounce or morsel of fight left in him, even for a flightless bird in need of some encouragement. 

There’s more to be said, but Keigo’s too angry to listen and Enji doesn’t have the energy to try. 

Whatever news the old hero had come to bring was left undelivered. 

...

You settle together the next few nights, both so damn tired, even though you’ve done nothing other than lay around a hospital for so-many weeks. 

The air always vibrates between the two of you, that comfortable warmth shared between mingling breath and senses. Light dances in your eyes, twisting and bouncing like something otherworldly.

(Maybe it is.)

Your fingers lace together, held in Keigo’s lap. You trace the others hand in relaxing little lines and shapes, trying to soothe each other’s wounds, always.

“One of the doctors said the scar might start shrinking,” You break the tender silence, nosing into his jaw in the same way an affectionate cat would. “They’re not entirely sure, but it’s been stable for a few days.”

Keigo’s feathery (don’t think about it) eyebrows shot up, “That’s amazing, and there’s only a few spasms this week, too.”

(He kept good tabs on you, he had to.)

You hummed in agreement, a sad smile playing on your lips as it so often did.

With a quick blink, the light bouncing in your eyes faded, and the world felt a bit colder.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I get out of here,” You pressed closer to him. “There’s shelters, and some cities are taking refugees, but I don’t—”

Your jaw clicks shut, brow furrowed and mood soured.

(Keigo, mind you, is still focusing on the lack of light in your eyes and the chill of the air in the room.) 

Something stirs, deep in his gut, but he doesn’t say anything. How Keigo used to have such a mouth, he didn’t know. These days, all he can is act, like somehow the loss of his wings came with the loss of his tongue.

Tugging you by the waist, mindful of the tender scar, he pulls you close, internally resolving.

...

She, the main Suit, visits him.

(It’s his last visitor at the hospital.)

There are no trumpeters, guards, or the like. It’s just the haggard president, matching Keigo with his dark circles and creased with new wrinkles and far-more grey sections in her slicked back hair.

The air stands still as she pulls up a chair, burying her head in her hands.

She, the Main Suit, has never been one to inquire as to how he is. Many of the others at the Commission were sweet, kind to him in youth, but she was all business. 

Some things never change.

She breaks the silence of the room, “... do you want to be done, Hawks?”

The cords in his chest tighten, gaze going sharper.

He doesn’t answer.

They meet each other’s gazes; twenty years of fucked-up emotion being shared between the pair of them.

“We’ve done everything. Every healer, every quirk, every treatment, conventional or otherwise,” she’s too soft. “There’s nothing left to try.”

He knew that, he had to know that, right?

His throat feels sticky as he swallows down bile, the scars on his back burning anew. It’s somatic, it has to be, but his flesh crawls and writhes just like yours. His starshine. He hates the way his mind is racing, just as fast as it always has, but his body lacks the ability to keep up.

He grounds himself in the thought of you, his starshine. Your body. Your heat. 

His narrow pupils refocus on the light tremble in her shoulders. 

“I’m being honest, so I’ll ask again,” She meets his gaze, grey eyes as soulless and full as ever. “Do you want to be done?”

“Well, obviously I can't fight—” 

“I mean it. All of it, Hawks. Maybe a few media appearances, but all this... shit. You’ve done enough.”

You’ve done enough. 

The words bounce around in his skull.

“Do you want to be done?”

Done with being a hero.

That’s all he’d ever been, right? That is him, he is Hawks, for fuck’s sake, no one other than Dabi (may he rot and die and immolate in hell) even called him his actual name in years.

Keigo is Hawks.

His mouth is dry, and he tries to ignore the tears pricking his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s beginning to cry, and definitely not sure why tension is draining from his shoulders as he sighs out an answer.

“I’ll be done.”

You’ve done enough.

...

Hospital beds are a hot commodity, and now that Keigo had thrown in the towel (along with everyone else) to stop trying with his wings, he was to be discharged within a few days.

(“Just a few more days to adjust your body to your new medications—”)

He’d stopped listening after that.

...

Your last night together is so bittersweet, you taste it on each other’s tongues.

You have an episode early in the day. Your screaming wakes the floor, the burning smell of flesh cementing that it was you.

Keigo’s only half-lucid when he shoves into your room, holding your hands while nurses desperately try to administer pain medication.

It’s too much for you, the crawling edges of the scar once again consuming you in the molten, glowing amber veins of heat that tore through you so terribly.

You sleep the day away. Keigo stays with you for much of it, stroking the bones in the back of your hands. 

...

He fucks you for the first time, that night. 

His own IVs have been removed, he’s to be discharged first thing in the morning—

And he wants one more night of stargazing, please, please—

(Why’s he clutching at you so dearly?) 

But you’re not in the common room. 

Rather, you’re under a few thin blankets, eyes tired and lightless. Your arm is out of its cast, laying over the bed clothes. It scares him shitless at first as he tentatively enters. It’s you though, and the moment you see him, it’s like a flame, a good one, heats the room full and wide. A few specks of light dance in between your irises as your skin crinkles in a gentle smile.

You both know he’s leaving tomorrow.

The knowledge settles in the room like a weight that neither of you can move. So, Keigo takes to it and does what he can.

As opposed to his normal perch next to his bed, he sits beside you, removing the restraints on your wrists and helping you to sit up.

Keigo fishes around in his pocket, pulling out a folded square of paper and placing it at your bedside. It’s his phone number, an odd detail. Relationships usually shared far-earlier.

But there is nothing linear or normal about the two of you, or the situation you both sit and stewed in.

You both are making peace with it at your own pace.

The bed creaks as you move to sit beside him, legs dangling from the bed. There’s gooseflesh beneath your gown, the boring pattern obscured by the darkness of the room, but the molten lines of the scar ever-visible.

“I’m glad you’re getting out of here.”

But I wish that you weren’t leaving.

His hand finds your waist, careful like he always is, but so giving in the same breath. 

“I am too. It’ll be nice to be.”

But I’m going to miss you.

It’s inherent, and has been forever. Since the moment you both stargazed in the common room and watched the worlds high above twist and shine without regard to your own hells, you’ve been ensnared in the other and neither of you have a want or need to let go.

Even with the inevitably of progress.

Keigo drowns in these thoughts, and has been since Endeavor visited and he was reminded of the harsh reality just outside of their tree-ringed prison. The reality he has to return to—

He presses his lips to yours, more desperate and needy than he had before.

Keigo had taken his share of you before, little pecks and the rub of the bridge of his nose over your jaw and cheeks. He had been a bit greedier with his hands, uncaring of the eyes of the night nurses when he’d touched you in the common room.

But he’s insatiable that last night.

The sheets of the plastic bed are too scratchy, they’re too harsh for you, and it burns Keigo to his core as he lowers you down. He cradles what he can, as your fingers latch onto his clothes (real clothes) and tug him as close as you can get.

The machines in your room cry, but they’re forgotten. 

You nip at his bottom lip, dragging yours across his clean-shaven jaw before laying into his neck with kiss after kiss. His muscles shake, holding him over you, both of you atrophied but uncaring.

You suck a deep, throbbing bruise on the fragile skin of his neck. It’s something dark that won’t fade for a week. The thought stirs something in his chest, a white-hot feeling that wants to crack his ribs and consume him. He doesn’t give in, he can’t—

“Stay with me, pretty eyes,” you whisper, so sweet and gentle as you push floppy strands of hair from his face. “Stay here, just for a little while longer.”

The reminder jolts him back, back to you, and the way your body (so tired, but unwavering) jumps and rolls under his touch. He’s a glutton for attention, always has been, but your particular brand and sounds keep pulse hot and hard. 

Shaky fingers pull his shirt over his head, sweaty palms push the gown over your hips. By the starlight, you’re both seeing too much of each other, but this is a goodbye, there’s no time to dwell on the discomfort.

Keigo tries to be careful as he adjusts your legs, tries to be mindful of the raw skin and flesh that makes you whine and half-writhe. You clutch at him, still trying to pull him closer despite the proximity and heat, like you need him as opposed to just wanting him. 

There’s no fanfare in it, just more rushed kisses and the swirling of fingertips over covered clit. You catch each other’s gasps in the mingling of breaths you share. It’s choking, suffocating, yet entirely not enough. You beg, quietly, for more. Your fingers latch onto his wrist and urge him to help pull your panties off and away.

More, more, more. 

By the time he slides into you, you're still tense, but so is he, and in a pile of tension and fear and wishful-thinking, you both come undone, and undone, and undone— 

...

Keigo leaves the next morning. 

The press is there, flash bulbs blinding him after so long with just fluorescents and starlight. He manages an easy wave or two, no autographs or gleaming smiles, just business and numbness that he needed to hold onto, so he didn’t fucking break.

He slips into the Commission’s car and leaves behind the hospital, you, and its wall of man-laid greenery and prays to forget it all quickly. He has enough to mourn. 

...

Keigo wants to off himself when he arrives back at his penthouse. 

How can he not?

His ‘home’ (if he couldn’t even call it that) is a dusty, time capsule of everything before. Before he got fucked up with the League, before the PLF, before the war, before Jin—

Every untouched bit of his life from when it was a few, precious fractions better stands unturned. A discarded jacket, wing slits visible and frayed. Scattered dead feathers that make his skin crawl. Memorabilia too, old merchandise that he never cared much about, but he definitely didn’t need to be seeing it now that ‘Hawks’ had burned up and died. 

All disgusting reminders. 

Something burning fills the base of his skull when his gaze fixates on one of the old plumes. He reaches out to touch the spine of it, instinctually expecting a little jolt of feeling from it, like he always had. 

But there’s nothing. It’s dead, decaying, and so is he. 

The reality of it breaks him, quick, hard and hot. He burns alive a second time. 

He clears the liquor cabinet while blaring music from his over-priced stereo system loud enough to make his ears ache and throb. The music isn’t drowning anything out, but it’s better to pretend.

He finds a bottle of old pills and downs them with a few swigs of expensive whiskey and lets go.

...

When he comes to, he’s staring into a smashed mirror, with his own nails crusted in blood from thin welts in the skin of the scar on his face.

Much to his chagrin, he hasn’t forgotten anything. The memories of blue flames, red feathers, and the smell of your skin mixed with isopropyl alcohol feel brighter than ever. He grounds on them as he sobers up, latching onto the pain of his scar tissue and the solace you gave. 

And won’t ever give him again.

Something in him wilts as he defeatedly goes to his phone, arranging any number of things to get him the fuck out.

...

The penthouse is sold, his more important belongings gathered in bland boxes. 

And he leaves. There’s no sentiment holding him there, not anymore.  

Fukuoka is gone and some distant memory as he drives (yes, he forgot that he had that skill) him and his things to his new home.

His penthouse had been immaculate. Crisp interior design, new shapes and colors that were on trend. He was hardly home to appreciate the modern beauty of it, but he’d received enough compliments from random hookups to know that it landed aesthetically.

But honestly?

Who the fuck cared?

His penthouse had been sold to the highest bidder and far behind as he arrives at his new, high home in the sleekness of his far-too fancy, disused car.

...

...

He gets a call from an unknown number, another one, on some snowy day, deep in winter. 

Keigo debates answering it. He almost lets it slip to voicemail. The only calls worth answering are the handful from the Commission that he has to heed, or the odd one from Rumi, Fuyumi, and on occasion, Endeavor.

Not random numbers, he has no patience for it. 

Yet, he answers it lazily.

“Washed up hero, how can I help you?”

“P-Pretty eyes?”

His heart stutters in his chest, he swears— 

“Starshine?” He sounds breathless, the air leached from his chest as he white-knuckles his thighs.

He’d given up on you contacting him, yet there you were, or at least your voice, mechanical and high bouncing around preciously in the walls of the cabin

There’s a moment of silence, nearly, just your light breathing that receiver picks up.

Your voice trembles when you break it, “Y-yeah, it’s me, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call—”

You don’t need to be sorry; he would wait for you forever, and then some. 

“I d-don’t actually have a phone? Mine got trashed, uh, back then. I’m on the hospital’s line.”

Keigo hadn’t really considered that, he’s slipped the paper with his number on your bedside without a thought. 

How much had you lost?

“No worries, chickadee,” Keigo is sure his smile is audible. “Why call now? Miss me too much?”

He had no idea.

You laugh, though it soured as you spoke, “I get discharged tomorrow.”

Keigo’s heart seizes again and he’s sure he’s going to go into cardiac arrest.

“The guy who gave me the scar and all? He fucked up a few other people, word eventually got here. Once the scar stops... glowing, it rests. If you make it until then, you’re good.”

And alive.

“The whole injury is stable, has been for a week now,” Surprisingly, there’s no relief in your voice. “They need my bed, so they’re releasing me.”

No, no, no.

Where will you go?

Keigo doesn’t say it, but the question hangs in the air and is quickly answered.

“They got me a spot in one of the shelters close by... It’s only a couple hours by train!” You try to sound happy, but it’s so hollow and unnatural; it makes Keigo physically sit up.

No, no, no.

That won’t do.

“... What won’t do?” 

Keigo hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

Something is buried in his chest, something warm and molten, like the old veins of your scar, just kinder and better. It’s full of urges, so seldom used, selectively as needed throughout his career as a hero.

The need to keep something precious safe. 

The thing hasn’t thrashed in months.

Yet now? It’s practically screaming.

“Pretty eyes?” You sound scared through the phone. “A-Are you alright? I can call back—”

“No, don’t, do not.” Keigo lets the flame fill his chest, welcoming it. “You’re not going to that shelter.”

He has something to protect.

“I don’t have another choice—”

Someone.

“You do.” Keigo keeps his voice even, the muscles in his back writhing. If he still had his wings, they’d be puffed out and large. Impassioned with feeling he finally let breath between his ribs. “I’ll come get you, tomorrow.”

“... P-Pardon?”

He doesn’t hesitate, and for a moment, he starts to feel like his old self. 

“Come home with me, starshine.”

++++++

thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!! 💗

look out for parts 2 and 3!!!💞

ko-fi

[rostovs-lover]

dalí on tuesday

charlie dalton x reader | cursing, smoking, brief mentions of sexual things, charlie (probably) has daddy issues, cameron | she/her pronouns | fluff | wc.2562

i am in love with charlie, this is now a charlie dalton centric blog, also ignore how terrible the title is please

anon : Hi!! I love your blog! can I request a charlie Dalton x reader fluff where reader is an artist and he visits them while they're painting? (maybe they end up wiping paint on his face?) I don't know, something really sweet at cute <33333

Charlie Dalton had been resigned to relish in small pleasures to keep himself sane at school, never did he think the library would be one of those. More specifically, the painter tucked into the basement of the library. 

                            ───☮︎───

     Charlie Dalton was a connoisseur of many things. Pretty girls, expensive wine, shitty poetry, and hand rolled cigarettes - to name a few. His imprisonment at Wellington made only one of those things readily available. So he settled - boxes of cheap smokes bought through upperclassmen, bottles of grocery store wine someone would sneak in from a party, and the two girls that occasionally came with Knox. The shitty poetry was always on deck, he had that at least. It was a tragedy to be resigned to such a bland life, there was absolutely no carpe diem-ing happening in a school that held adolescent boys to uniforms.

      It was miserable, truly, but Charlie scrapped by on the thought that soon enough there would be no more stuffy Catholic school and he could finally have a taste of freedom. In the meantime, he would have what little fun he could. The meets in the cave were always the highlight of the week. A place where he could talk and people would listen, and not because they had to but because they enjoyed it. They enjoyed his words and thoughts and presence. No one else had ever really seemed to enjoy Charlie’s presence. They could tolerate it, handle it, but they always had more pressing matters. A business meeting to attend, a bill to pay, a dinner to go to. Always something just a little bit more important and never quite enough time for Charlie. But the other Dead Poets, they valued him. He wasn’t just a kid, a college tuition to pay and a life to layout. He was a person, with interests and hobbies.

      It had been there, in the safe haven of the cave, that the idea for the library first came up. Meeks had already talked Pitts into coming, Neil didn’t take much convincing at all, Todd was also easy to lure, Cameron groaned about leaving school grounds but refused to be left out, and Knox agreed to go but only if Nuwanda came too. Charlie had already started to cover what there was to do at a library, read?

      Meeks dove into the technical manuals and Pitts followed tentatively, cradling their science project in his arms. Todd had followed Neil to the S authors, Cameron was trying to chat up the woman at the register, and God only knew what Knox was doing. He had been stranded with few options. He could find the geniuses and be talked over for the next hour or third wheel Neil but that guaranteed intruding on something he probably shouldn’t. The polite thing to do would be to rescue Cameron from making a complete fool of himself, throwing bad pick up lines at a clearly uninterested college student, but it was amusing to watch.

      Charlie settled on trying to find Knox, at least then he could have some company. Said company was absolutely nowhere to be found. The rows of shelves wound in a confusing maze and Charlie was lost before he could even begin to look. Weaving around he did come face-to-face with a rather large picture of Charles Dickens that made him recoil. It was perched just at eye level above a short staircase and it seemed to judge his every movement. Charlie followed the carpeted stairs down to escape Mister Dickens’ strange little beard and beady black eyes.

      The further down the steps Charlie descended the brighter it appeared. The lower level was the children’s section. Considerably more fun than science books or Shakespeare. The big oak counter was abandoned but the lights were still on. He was alone, still.

      Charlie sighed, sitting down in one of the bright red wooden chairs. He was much too big for it but it held well under his weight. A sad stuffed bear stared dully into him from the green glossy table.

      “Well hello,” He mumbled, picking it up under the arms, “And you must be?” He cleared his throat to take on a gruff baritone, “Mister... Bearington,” Charlie sighed, that was bad. He dropped the bear into his lap, “This is so stupid,”

      “Bearington?”

      Charlie shot around in the chair, tipping himself off center and stumbling to his feet, bear still clutched in his arms, “Where the hell did you come from?”

      “A few blocks over, walked here actually.” You turned back to your work. A painting. Not just a painting, Charlie realized, a mural. It stretched the length of the wall, roughly sketched in pencil and waiting to be finished.

      He blinked, “That’s good. The wall I mean,”

      “Thank you,” Your face flustered and Charlie took notice, “It’s not much of anything yet, just an outline. It’ll look better painted.”

      He took a few steps closer, sidling up to you, “What’s it supposed to be?”

      “A forest,” You pointed to a rotund blob perched on a long line, “That’s an owl, and there’s going to be a fox somewhere down in the grass,”

      Charlie grinned, “That’s an owl?”

      “That-” you tapped the blob, “Is a shape, objectively. Subjectively, it’s an owl.”

      His brow creased, “Subjectively it’s an owl? That's like saying Mister Bearington is a rabbit, subjectively,”

      You stared at him, baffled. It was almost irritating that he could so casually come down to your domain and invade your creative bubble. And it was even worse that he talked to himself as a stuffed bear but now he was challenging your judgment on what was and was not subjectively an owl. But he had a wonderful smile and it lessened the intrusion. Plus, you had never seen a teenage boy develop an attachment to a stuffed bear as quickly as he had, “What’s your name?”

      “Nuwanda,” He grinned, setting his chin atop his bear’s plush head.

      “Nuwanda?” You blinked at him, “That’s… neat. I’ve never heard that before.”

      “What can I say? The only Nuwanda this side of Vermont. What’s your name?”

      As you opened your mouth to answer several sets of footsteps thundered down the stairs. Knox spun around the corner first, closely followed by Pitts and Meeks.

      “Charlie!” Knox called, “We gotta go before Cameron proposes to the clerk.”

      You looked at the boy in front of you, “Is Charlie short for Nuwanda, or just a nickname?”

      He shrugged, “I’m Nuwanda, subjectively. It was truly a pleasure meeting you. Can’t wait to see your thing DaVinci!” He set the stuffed bear back on the table as he made his way out of the room. With Charlie’s energy gone it became much quieter and you were plunged back into the impressionistic outline of your artwork.

      The next time a library trip was suggested Charlie didn’t completely dread it. Yes, it was still numbingly boring because it was a library and he didn’t have clerks to fall in love with, people to write love letters to, anyone to kiss in the aisles, or a spaceship to build, but he did have his own personal Van Gough to torment.

      The lower level was the first place he went, not even hanging his coat on the rack inside the big double doors. He made his way past Cameron’s preoccupied receptionist and under Dickens’ hard glower. Halfway down the steps, the smell hit Charlie. Wet paint.

      You had just picked out a brush when he pulled one of the wooden chairs next to your station. He sat in it backwards, holding Mister Bearington out in front of him, “Never got your name Monet,”

      “Well, it's not that. Or Da Vinci.” You stroked the brush up the grassy outline.

      “Do you want me to guess?”

      You had yet to look at him, “Nope,”

      “Are you gonna tell me?”

      “Should I?”

      “Obviously, I told you my name.”

      You set the brush down and turned to face him, “(Name).”

      “Pretty,”

      Charlie Dalton liked many things and the musty old library uptown had never been one of them. It had ancient red carpets and gaudy gold ceilings and it was trying too hard to look regal. So it was a sheer shock when he began to leap at the suggestion of going and even more so when he chose to go by himself one afternoon. Naturally, the other poets followed him, they had to.

      Charlie didn’t dally upstairs, waving hi to the clerk and rushing down to the children’s section. A sign was posted outside the entrance warning of wet paint but he stepped around it.

      “You’re making progress Picasso!” He set his hands on his hips and took in the wall.

      You turned back to look at him, “Did you not see the caution: wet paint, do not enter sign?”

      “Oh no I saw it,” He pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head, “It's bright orange, hard to miss, really,”

      “So you just chose to ignore it?”

      He nodded, making his way over to sit by you on the ground, “I choose to ignore lots of things, it really makes life easier,”

      You shook your head, “Are you just going to sit here and bother me?”

      “Yes, that's actually the whole reason I came today, believe it or not.”

      You blubbered in vague disbelief, “Please tell me you’re not serious,”

      “Dead serious,” Charlie grinned, leaning closer, “I had to see how your weird owl was going. And also make sure you hadn’t gone mad and cut your own ear off yet,”

      “You’ve already used the Van Gogh joke, Charles,”

      “Maybe I want your ear,”

      You paused, “You… what?”

      Charlie’s confidence cracked, “That was bad. Shit, that wasn’t supposed to sound that way. It was like, a bad pickup line? Because Van Gogh cut his ear off to send to his girlfriend,” He sighed, shaking his head, “Sorry,”

      “I mean if I had to pick someone to give my ear too I guess you would be my first choice?”

      Charlie looked at you, eyebrows pinched together, “Why?”

      You shrugged, “No one else has asked, first come first serve.” You dipped your brush back into the blue paint and went to work on a patch of flowers.

      “Huh, well I do appreciate it,” Charlie scooted closer, leaning over your shoulder. He was close, very close. When you took a breath you could smell his cologne and whatever it was he used in his hair and you could feel the edge of his sunglasses brush your ear. He brought an arm around to dip his finger into the soft sky colour on your palette. And then he wiped it on your nose.

      You gasped sharply at the foreign feeling, snapping your head to the side to glare at him, “Why?!”

      Charlie snickered, leaning back, “The opportunity presented itself, how could I just let that pass?”

      You reached back, squirting a touch of purple paint over the palm of your hand, “That was truly a horrible idea,”

      Charlie shot up just as you did, stumbling backwards, “I’m sorry-” He stuck his hands up in surrender, “I regret my actions and if I could take them back I would,”

      “Hmm, but you can’t” You took a step closer, “Surrender now and it doesn’t have to get any messier than this,”

      He pointed towards your paint coated hand, “Do not,”

      You grinned, “I might,”

      “I’m begging,”

      “Fine-” You offered him your other hand, “Truce?”

      Charlie mulled it over for a moment, “Fine, truce,” He grabbed your clean hand and you used it to pull him towards you.

          “Why on earth would you trust me?” You tugged him even closer as he shrieked and smeared your hand down his cheek, “There, now we’re even,”

      Getting distracted by your triumph gave Charlie the upper hand. He pulled you to him the same you had done to him and pressed his cheek flush to yours. The paint was cold against your skin and you jolted back, away from him.

      “Vile,” You hissed, “You are vile and evil. That's so cold. You will pay, I hope you know that.”

      Charlie snorted, “Oh please, what’re you gonna do?”

      “You underestimate me, you ass, I’ll figure something out,”

      “Will you?” Charlie grinned, “I will be waiting in anticipation,”

      “You better be,”

      Meeks elbowed back into Cameron’s ribs, “You’re going to knock me over,”

      Cameron craned his neck further to peek around the corner into the children’s section, “I just want to see, let me look,”

      “Nothing is happening-” Meeks snipped, “They’re just talking now and I might be able to hear if you could can it!”

      Cameron rolled his eyes, “Of course, whatever you say,”

      “Will you shut up?” Knox batted at Cameron’s shoulder, “They’ll see us, we’re not super well hidden,”

      “If you don’t stop talking they’ll realize we’re here,” Pitts mumbled, rolling his eyes. Cameron started to rebuttal, turning to look at Gerard but the motion knocked Meeks out of place and he gasped, stumbling forwards. This did indeed draw Charlie’s attention.

      “Meeks, what the hell?” Charlie snapped. He was in a state, sunglasses askew in his hair, paint smeared from his cheekbone down to the corner of his mouth, and his shirt was wrinkled away from his collarbone.

      Meeks stared, “Hi Charlie. Are there any textbooks down here, uh… the science ones?”

      Knox groaned, stepping out from behind the wall as well, “We wanted to see why you came here on a Tuesday afternoon by yourself,”

      Charlie blubbered, “Did you all come? Is Keating there too?”

      “He could be,” Meeks shrugged.

      Charlie rolled his eyes, “Will you leave, I’ll be upstairs in a second,” The other poets nodded, scampering up the steps to the first level.

      “Assholes, should have known they’d come,” Charlie sighed, adjusting the sunglasses atop his head, “I need to go before they decide to intrude again. I’ll see you soon though, anxiously anticipating payback,”

      He was almost out the door when you bucked up the courage to call out to him, “Charlie, wait.” You let him turn back to you before continuing, “Could I have your phone number?”

      He clicked his teeth, “Don’t have one, private school. But I’ll find the library number in the books and try to shoot you a call sometime,” He winked and started back up to his friends.

      Knox was waiting at the landing with a handful of tissues, which he shoved into Charlie’s hands, “So you’re gonna read your stupid poem about tits at a Dead Poets meet and then not tell us you’ve got a girlfriend?”

      Charlie grabbed the tissues, “Not my girlfriend, I meet her like two weeks ago,”

      “Didn’t stop Knox,” Neil elbowed him.

      Charlie wiped at his face, “Well I’m not Knox. I like her painting, she's good.”

      “It looks like she was painting you,” Cameron slapped at Charlie’s chest and he threw the tissues at him in retaliation.

      “Shut up, at least my library worker actually talks to me,”

      Cameron fumbled with the dirty material, batting it away from his chest, “You dick!”

      Charlie grinned, pulling his glasses down and starting towards the door. Something about it was thrilling, having this to himself. A little secret that he and you shared. His personal Salvador Dalí, something to look forwards to besides bad tobacco and Keating’s eccentric lectures. It was bright and exciting and he felt seen. He felt important. The blue paint he had stolen from your tray was still on the tip of his pointer finger and he wondered how long it would be until he could see you again.

 ( @interwebseriesfan24 )

[buckyownsmylife]

sunlight sunset - andy barber smut

The one where Andy throws you a baby shower and you thank him after.

Warnings: smut (p in v), masturbation (f), dirty talk, probably a little bit of daddy kink, pregnancy, the misconstruct of gender that I tried to avoid by referring to biological sex only, curse words, dirty talk

A/N: this was requested by 🤰 anon and it turned out to be much fluffier than any smut I’d ever written previously. Also, I ended up changing the idea of the reader’s “thank you”, I don’t really know why,  but I just figured Andy would be in really soft mindset after a baby shower 🤷‍♀️ Also, this is sort of a part two to this fic

Andy’s P.O.V.

“Shh, everyone! I think I hear her!” All around me, the sound of conversation suddenly dulled, people trying to make themselves smaller to fit behind furniture or walls and I had to cough to hide a laugh, but truly, it was just sweet. There weren’t many people in my apartment, Y/N didn’t have a lot of friends she cared enough to let them be a part of her pregnancy, and I still hadn’t managed to get her father to accept the idea of his baby girl having a baby, but at least her mom was here and Jacob was too.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” My son asked me, fingers absentmindedly playing with a blue balloon while his eyes remained trained on the door, waiting for her to burst through. I knew he was hoping for a little boy, someone he could help shape and not worry about, but I was rooting for a baby girl despite not having the guts to admit it to my girlfriend. I could just perfectly see it, me and her, raising this little version of her together, and she’d be loud and opinionated and the best parts of both of us and I just loved her already. 

I knew it was a girl. I just knew it. I felt it deep in my gut, every night when I talked to Y/N’s still barely-there belly. But I let her and Jacob believe it was a boy. That was just something I kept to myself and my unborn child, the secret that would come out tonight.

“I sure hope so,” I muttered, trying to look unworried but probably failing. It’s just, Y/N had been having such a hard time lately, between telling her parents about the pregnancy, moving in with me, telling Jacob and her friends and it was just a whirlwind of emotions for us both, but of course, it hit her harder than me. She was the one dealing with the body changes and the misconceptions that people had about the nature of our relationship. I just wanted this one experience to show her how this pregnancy wasn’t all stress and tears.

But of course, I should have known better.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouted when the door opened, a surprised Y/N covering her mouth as she took in the balloons, her friends, the cake and me. And then, as if on cue, she burst into tears.

I shouldn’t have expected any different, really. After the first initial shock wore off, I found myself chuckling as I beckoned my sobbing girlfriend into my arms, delighted to have her warm body to squeeze again.

“Baby, don’t cry… This is supposed to be a nice thing!” It only made her cry harder, clutching at my shirt as I couldn’t control my amusement, trying to get her to separate from me just enough so I could cradle her face.

“It is nice! It’s so nice… I don’t deserve you, Andy.” The thought was so absurd to me that a fucking snort came out as I grazed her cheekbones with my thumbs. God, she was beautiful. And mine. All mine.

“Oh, please, sweetheart. If anything, I’m the one who’s unworthy of you.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

The utter stupidity of the statement had me gasping, and then promptly slapping one of the arms with which he was holding me. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re too intelligent for that.” That earned me one of those hearty laughters that started from the depths of his chest and that warmed me to my very core, leaving my face burning. God, how I loved this man. And how I loved to be the reason for his laughter.

“C’mon, princess. Let’s open that envelope. I’m dying to know what we’re expecting.” Oh, right. As if on cue, my hands started sweating and my heartbeat picked up, the anxiety about knowing our child’s biological sex finally hitting. I was hoping for a boy, but I knew he wanted a girl. As much as he tried to hide it, I could just read right through his expectant face.

With shaky hands, I reached into my purse and pulled out the little red envelope that the doctor had given me. At first, I thought it was weird that Andy had decided to skip this one appointment, since he was so enthusiastic about being a part of everything, but now, as I stared at the balloon and the familiar faces of my friends, it made sense.

“Can I open it?” He asked, almost too quietly, large palm turned up as he waited for my reaction. I didn’t need to think about it, immediately dropping the paper in his hand, almost laughing at how ridiculously small it looked with him holding it. “Here we go.”

I knew all around us, everyone was waiting to hear the single word contained in that note, excitement barely concealed as the air around us felt electrified with it. But I couldn’t even care. At the most, I noticed my mom and Jacob holding hands not that far from where I stood with Andy, and the image made me smile right as my boyfriend’s face lit up like a christmas tree when he processed the doctor’s ruling.

“A girl. It’s a girl. We’re having a girl!” He darted into my arms and behind me, I felt as someone else - most likely Jacob - hugged me too. They were followed by each and every person in the room, until there was no one else to congratulate me on the news. We ate cake, talked and then, one by one, everyone left, and it was only Andy and me.

When I turned to look at him, after seeing the last visitor out, it was only to find his darkened, lust-filled eyes staring right at me as he sized me up, his hands in his pockets and the sweetest cockiest smirk on his lips.

“Come here, baby.” There was no hesitation, I didn’t even think before I moved in his direction. As I approached, he sat on the couch behind him, hands beckoning me closer and closer, until I was just close enough that he could easily pull me to straddle his legs.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispered as he nuzzled his bearded face against my neck, tickling me while making my pussy throb at the same time. A shiver of pure desire ran up my spine, right as I started to unconsciously grind my crotch over his, already desperate for a release.

“I-I’m thinking…” I tried, only to stop in a gasp as Andy suddenly seized my waist, forcing my movements to gather some speed. The friction was nothing like what I truly wanted, but it was just enough to make me whimper for my boyfriend’s wonderful touch.

Andy’s P.O.V.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” I urged, knowing that I was teasing her and knowing that she knew, especially since I couldn’t keep the smirk off of my face. “If you tell me what you want, I might give it to you.”

It was an offer she couldn’t resist, I knew even before I whispered it in her ear, but as I kept stimulating her body and she didn’t find a way to stop me, instead of finally confessing what was going through her mind, what I got was an exasperated, “Stop doing that! I don’t wanna cum yet!”

It made me laugh and decide that I definitely wouldn’t be stopping any time soon, so I opted to suck on one of her earlobes, appreciating the little shiver that she tried to hide before asking, “Why not?”

She hesitated for a second, but I couldn’t tell if it was because she wanted to hide it or if she simply still couldn’t gather her thoughts enough to voice them, although the way her fingers were buried in my shoulders made me think the last option was more probable. At last, she admitted right right before throwing her head back and whining, “Because I want to be the one pleasing you.”

She was heaving now, delicious breasts bouncing before me and just begging to have my mouth wrapped around one nipple, but her confession felt so silly I ended up laughing and capturing one of them between my fingers, instead.

“Can’t you feel what seeing you like this does to me?” I asked, making sure to raise my hips so there was no denying the hard line of my cock against her cunt. “I’m sorry you don’t feel like cumming, princess, because that’s exactly what you’re going to do. So just relax and accept it.”

It didn’t take long for her to cum after that, and I took in every beautiful second of the perfect image as her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her hips seemed to take a rhythm of their own.

“That’s my girl,” I cooed softly as I watched her slowly come back to me, eyes blinking lazily to look up at me from under her eyelashes with an expression that was simply sinful. “Can you open this for me, baby girl?” I asked as my hands remained occupied with holding her up, gesturing towards my own crotch, but it felt unnecessary when her hands immediately flew down to rub the boner I’d been sporting for quite a while.

“Yes, princess. Can you get my cock out, please? I really need to be inside of you now,” I confessed, nose rubbing over the soft skin of her neck as her small hands expertly unzipped my pants and I raised my hips up just enough so she could wrap her fist around my member and pull it from its confines.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Nothing felt quite as good as having my hand wrapped around Andy’s cock, knowing it would be inside of me, making me whole in just a few seconds. And knowing that he was giving me the control to grab it and put it in me myself just had me excited like nothing else.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” I noted, raising myself just enough to rub the head of his member against my lower lips. The action had him grunting before groaning in frustration, grip in my ass tightening in a sort of warning.

“No, I figured it’d be easier this way. Didn’t anticipate you being such a tease, though.” The grumpy tone of his voice made me giggle, and I slowly lowered myself down on his hard cock, moaning out loud and holding my own breasts as he hissed to the feeling of my pussy squeezing him.

“You feel so fucking good.” Just the hoarseness of his voice had me whining, even before he used the grip on my ass to make me start riding him. “You make me feel so good, baby girl. No one can make me feel as good as you do.”

Only this man could have me simultaneously melting from his sweetness while cumming on his dick while he pounded me from the bottom. “I wish I could keep you right here, sweetheart. Right here, sitting on my dick, all day, everyday.”

I saw the way his eyes never left my bouncing breasts, and when he licked his lips with an expression of pure hunger, I came, knowing I was bringing him with me when he let out a high-pitched moan and picked up his pace.

“Fuck, I’m yours, princess. I’m yours. Thank you for giving me our little family. I love you.” Grabbing his hand to give a kiss to his knuckles, I took a second to appreciate just how incredible this man was. Despite how hard this could be, I knew I’d never regret having him beside me.

[echo-of-sounds]

not much of a birthday

Headcanons and a smut drabble for Aizawa’s birthday! I struggled to think of as many headcanons as I did for the other characters. Hopefully the smut makes up for it!

Warnings: it’s nowhere near as rough as the last one, but the smut does include a Daddy kink

Aizawa’s birthday is difficult. It’s not that he hates it. He’s just kinda… whatever about it. It makes planning a birthday party, or any celebration really, and buying presents a challenge.

Large gatherings aren’t his favorite. If you truly want to throw a birthday party, don’t make it a surprise party and only invite his closest friends (seven people max). Too many people mean he’s going to sulk in his room the entire time, not wanting to deal with the large, noisy crowd. He wants his birthday to be quiet and relaxing.

Buying presents is so damn difficult. He doesn’t really have hobbies or interests outside of being a teacher and a Hero. Well, he likes cats but you can’t buy a cat every single year. The best option is clothing. Everyone could always use new pairs of socks and underwear.

A leather wallet, beard softener, a simple, handsome sweater, and maybe a new type of coffee are also some options. He’s a laidback guy with laidback interests. Keep the presents to things he needs and will definitely use. If they’re too elaborate or eccentric, he’ll never get around to using it.

“I hope you like them,” you said with the best smile you could muster as you sat the presents on the coffee table. The wrapping was beautiful but the content wasn’t particularly intriguing. 

Shouta unwrapped the first one: a package of socks. The next was a package of boxer briefs. Then two nice, simple T-shirts. Then a gift bag with a new brush, hair ties, reparative shampoo, and protein conditioner to prevent hair breakage from all the shit he puts it through.

He thanked you for each one.

“You’re welcome. But there’s one more.” You nodded to the last, most specialized one. It took a few weeks to finally think of and find something that wasn’t as plain as underwear.

He grabbed the flat present off the table and unwrapped it. The tape ripped easily, letting him see the dark brown leather padfolio. It fit his laptop, notebook, and had plenty of smaller pockets. It’d hopefully help him be just a little more organized in his commutes. 

After looking through all of it, he gave a rare smile and kissed you, mumbling as he pulled away, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Happy birthday, Sho.” He narrowed his eyes when you stroked his cheek. “What?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“What is it?”

You sighed at his too-intense gaze, knowing he wasn’t going to let it go. “I’m glad you like the presents. I really am. I just… I guess I wish I could buy you something exciting and unique. I want to make you feel special.” You rubbed the back of his neck, massaging the strained muscles.

“You don’t need to buy me expensive things to make me feel special.”

“I know. I know that. But… I want to spoil you for at least one day and you make doing that incredibly difficult. I feel like you deserve something more for all that you do. I just want to spoil you,” you lightly laughed and kissed his temple. “For once.” 

“You don’t need to-”

“I want to,” you whispered against his skin.

Shouta grabbed your hand and met your eyes. “These past few days have been more than I needed.” He kissed your nose then your mouth. “After weeks of screaming teenagers, a weekend with you is all I want,” he confided.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.” He drew you close and swung your leg over his lap. He lifted your shirt off, connecting a deep kiss after. His tongue wandered over yours. You sighed, casually grinding, pressing your breasts against him. 

His hands drifted to your front and unbuttoned your pants. Without breaking the kiss, you stood. Rough hands slipped in the sides and yanked them and your underwear down. Fingers frisked you, not afraid of being brusque as they circled your clit, making you widen your stance, giving him more room to fondle. 

Two fingers slipped in. They crudely waved as his palm grazed your clit. Your legs tensed and your spine curved towards him, wanting to be closer. But his clothes were still on. Leaving his lips for only one second, you removed his shirt. Pulling his sweatpants down was next and was awkward with his hand unabashedly prodding you. 

A flick jolted your clit, stopping your actions. You gasped around his tongue, trying to moan his name. Another thwack jostled you. Shouta’s bitter rasp provoked you awfully, “You know what to call me.”

“Daddy,” you softly cried. 

“Good girl,” he praised and tugged you into his lap. You couldn’t ask what he wanted you to do because his fingers reentered, just as crude, just as grazing. When you reached for him, he warned, “Don’t touch me.”

You didn’t object. Your head dropped to his shoulder through his fondling. The two fingers inside folded, growing rougher by the second. His other hand played with your thigh and ass, scratching and kneaded and nailing your skin raw.

Your hips jerked on their own. You tightened for the spank and reprimand, but it never came. Which was weird. You gently whispered, “Daddy?”

“Hmm?”

You didn’t know how to ask why he didn’t scold you like he normally does. Thankfully, you didn’t need to figure it out. Lips lined over your neck and shoulders. Hands rubbed along your sides and back, keeping you warmly close. He spoke hushedly, “I don’t want to punish you today. Just listen to me, okay?”

You sat up to see his smile and nodded. His thumb pulled your bottom lip down. “You’re a good girl. You can ride me now,” he granted with a deep kiss.

Lining him up, you lowered, sighing happily into his mouth. His heat and heft fit comfortably, perfectly inside. You wasted no time and hugged his shoulders as you began grinding. Arms embraced you. Lips and tongue skimmed your skin. Muscled thighs tensed and swayed with your hips.

He sped up. It excited you to do the same, craving to hear him groan. You wanted to give him the pleasure he always gave you. It was his birthday after all.

Raising on your knees, you bounced, stirring a hint of sound from him. It also motivated his hips to hump up. They met yours in the middle, nudging him nicely and loudly against your front wall. Your breasts bobbed with the faster motion. Heat encircled one. His first groan rippled over your nipple, sucking, damn near gnawing on it. 

Black hair tangled around your fingers. You clung tight, keeping his mouth suckling. Your thighs hastened, hips hustled on, working up a thin sweat, tightening your body, almost there.

But he pulled away, halting your hips. You whimpered shamelessly, “Daddy, don’t.”

“Are you going to make me cum as well or should I do that myself?”

“No, it’s your birthday,” you panted, gripping his arm, jerking in his hands.

“I don’t think you can.”

You tucked into his neck. Hands grasped and arms lifted you up as he moved, laying you down on the couch, making sure your head rested on the pillows. He gutturally purred into your ear, “My birthday present is you. Let Daddy do it.”

Without waiting, he quickly snapped his hips. You scratched his back and moaned. His shoulder blades wavered with his humping. His thighs spread you bare. His back bowed beautifully.

The thrusts stopped. Your whine came out louder than expected. His heat deserted you when he sat up and pulled out, leering between your legs. Thumbs felt up and down your outer lips, petting with pressure. They bore heavily over your clit before caressing again, stretching you open, smoothing you closed, toying with all the delicate nerves. A particularly brutal sweep on your clit induced a high-pitched gasp. You clutched his forearm but his fingers continued. Your hips and thighs fidgeted, struggling to get away under his weight. His smirk did not go unnoticed.

You pawed his chest, fussing, “Please.”

Spit dripped from his mouth, slowly dribbling onto you. Thumbs persisted their patterns, now wetter, harsher.

“Please…” 

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy, please, fuck me, please. I want you.”

“There you go.” He lifted your thigh to rest on his chest, lowered to kiss you, and resumed his thrusting. Your leg bobbed with his sinks. “Is this want you wanted?”

You nodded with a smile, scratching his sides. He paused mid-thrust and chided in a cautionary tone, “I may not punish you but you still need to be grateful.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you.”

“That’s a good girl.”

“Really?”

“I promise.” Hot air puffed as his lips returned, so wet and so warm, heating more with his sweeping tongue. Hips slowly swayed. His scarred abs and hair-dusted chest fluttered under your fingers. Small flattery and honeyed words voiced into your mouth. 

“I love you,” you breathed.

“I love you too.”

The softness faded. Thrusts steadily built up. Teeth pinched and pulled your bottom lip, taxing the sensitive skin. They moved to your neck next. Pinches turned to full-mouthed bites, running all over as he clamped hard, trying to mark you as much as possible.

“Daddy,” you choked out through the heightening breaths, seeking his permission.

His husky utter heated your skin, “You can cum. You don’t need to wait for me.”

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, thank you, thank-” 

“Shhh,” he hushed into your neck.

Your nails rooted in his sides, signaling your looming release. Lips covered yours and swallowed your peaking moans. Wetly and weakly, you mumbled into his mouth, around his tongue, “More.”

He lifted until his tip remained inside then buried in with a heavy, strong thrust. His pace maintained heavy and strong too. His groans matched the intensity. Your hips and thigh hurt so wonderfully under his mass. Moans trapped in your throat, leaving you huffing, hot, and hanging.

Dry, jugular groans tipped you over, “Cum for me. I know you want to. Cum for Daddy.”

Your body went rigid with clamped muscles. Shallow breaths ceased. Heat flooded but no moans sounded. The internal pleasure kept you gasping for air through your release- gasping for his finish- gasping for your Daddy, who kissed and caressed your trembling frame.

When you slouched, he stood and kneeled over your shoulders, holding himself for you. He entered the second your lips opened, salty and throbbing. Using the armrest to support himself, his thrusts started anew. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat. But his hips didn’t slow. 

Looking up, you could tell he was close. He glared at you. A blush painted his cheeks and chest. You snagged his ass, holding him in your mouth.

“Fuck.” He bucked further. Though it caused another gag, you still grappled at him, letting him fuck your throat. His grunts grated too low to understand, but you didn’t need to. Hair pressed to your nose as he drove fully inside. Joints locked. Fingers fastened in your hair. Liquid salt spurt, trickling, choking.

You sucked him as long and deep as you could until breath became your priority. You eventually tapped his thigh, needing air. Your mouth was emptied. Saliva and cum connected you to his depleted erection. The string split, driveling, messing your chin and breasts.

Before you could so much as move, Shouta nabbed his shirt and cleaned you, careful of your swollen lips and bruises. His scowl at his concentration was cute, slightly puffing his bottom lip out. He noticed and raised an eyebrow. 

You waved it off, “Nothing. Happy birthday, Daddy.”

“Thank you. And thank you for the presents.” He finished his wiping and tenderly kissed you, lovingly brushing his tongue along your lips. “Tomorrow you can take me to a movie.”

You exhaled a dry laugh, “That’s not exactly exciting or unique but it’s a start, I guess. But right now, can you get me some ibuprofen? My neck’s sore.”

“And a heating pad?”

“Please and thank you.”

Shouta kissed you once more and went to get the items. You patiently waited, wanting to cuddle him for the rest of the night.

[dreadlockholiday]

Stucky Fic Rec List #4

by @dreadlockholiday

Part #1 - #2 - #3 - #4 of my Rec List.

A/N: I haven't been reading a lot lately so I'm a bit late with this one and it's also shorter than the other ones 😩

[please reblog to signal boost these amazing authors and give them some love <3]

🧁Downward facing dog by @oh-i-swear-writes - [Mature; 8k words]

[Modern AU; And They Were Roommates; Naked Yoga; Idiots in Love; Blushing Steve Rogers; Masturbation]

Steve's roommate Clint has finally got himself a girlfriend and moved in with her. Which is great and all, but Steve can't afford the rent by himself, and one bedroom options within his price range are... well. Decidedly not places Steve would like to live.

In a fit of desperation, Steve turns to Craigslist to try and find himself a new roommate and everything seems fine...

Except his roommate does yoga. Now, Steve knew that before the guy moved in, but he actually likes to do his yoga naked.

🍃 Somewhere, Under Your Skin by @thiccbuckybarnesfic - [Explicit; 16,4k words]

[Modern AU; Age Difference; College Student!Steve; Scientist!Bucky; Older Bucky; Bottom!Bucky; Dom/Sub Undertones; Mean Top Steve; Dirty Talk; Embarrassment; Slight Humiliation; Happy Ending]

Bucky Barnes treats himself to a one-night stand after having a very bad no good day.

The sex is good--great, even. Might be the best sex of his life.

But Bucky wouldn’t have slept with the guy if he had known that he was going to continuously run into him every day for the next fucking month.

--

Or, a Big Grump Bucky has a hot one night stand with a college kid who is popping up everywhere in his everyday life and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

⏳Breaking up is hard to do by @chicklette, art by @velociraptorerin-art - [Mature; 5,5k words]

[Shrunkyclunks; A/B/O; Alpha!Steve x Omega!Bucky; Almost Breakup; Hurt/Comfort; Angst with a Happy Ending]

While Bucky knows the next few months will be hell, in a way, he’s also glad that Steve’s never bonded him. He’s bitten Bucky, sure. About six months in, Bucky’d told him he didn’t have to use the bite guard if he didn’t want to. He thought they were taking the next step, and after that rut, Bucky was left with Steve’s bite marks all over his body. Bite marks everywhere but the one place it counts: over his scent glands.

It was a wake-up call when, just a couple of months later, Steve started using the guard again.

🏹 hello jealousy by gothsloth - [Explicit; 4k words]

[Modern AU; Established Relationship; Jealousy; Insecure Bucky; Bottom!Bucky; Happy Ending]

Bucky gets jealous when he sees his husband being flirted with by a girl at the bar. Steve reminds him he has nothing to worry about.

🧭 I wanted to go home (to be where you are) by DreamingOfABetterYou- [Explicit; 1,4k words]

[PWP; Established Relationship; Tender Fucking; Bottom!Bucky; Top!Steve; Bearded Steve Rogers]

He nuzzled against the underside of Bucky’s jaw for a moment when his head fell back, Steve’s name escaping the other man’s lips in a breathless soft gasp. Bucky’s skin was already covered in beard burn, and they had barely started.

_

Bucky gets tenderly railed by Steve because he deserves nice things.

[kindahoping4forever]

I Want Your Midnights // Ashton Irwin

Happy 2021 everyone! Thank you to everyone who feverishly (yet politely) requested a follow-up to Under The Christmas Lights; those holiday fics were really fun but kind of a lark and I didn’t expect that any of them would get that kind of reaction! I hope this continuation lives up to your expectations. 

Big, big thanks to @cal-puddies​​ for setting me back on the right path more than once while I was writing this - I honestly gave up about halfway through and she (lovingly) refused to let me give up so if you enjoy reading this, it’s because of her tbh.  

Warnings: Equal parts fluff, banter and smut, mentions of quarantine, frantic resolution of sexual tension, protected sex within a new relationship, references to consensual voyeurism, masturbation and oral sex on a male, oral sex performed on a female, discussion of and use of sex toys, single joking use of the word “Daddy”

Word Count: 5675

Hoe For The Hoe-lidays Masterlist

Masterlist // Taglist and Ko-Fi linked above

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

11:29pm, December 30

“So we really overestimated our self-control skills tonight, didn’t we?”

Ashton laughs raspily at your comment, the sound travelling from your phone speaker straight down your spine, giving you chills. You prop your head up on your pillow, gazing towards the direction of your window, towards his bedroom window, a sight you’d become quite accustomed to these past few nights.

You’ve talked to Ash everyday since your feelings for each other became obvious and ever since your Christmas encounter when your intentions for those feelings became explicit, you’ve spent your nights engaging in some sort of mutual self-pleasure either via text, phone call or window watching.

Tomorrow the quarantine you both agreed to will be over and you'll safely celebrate New Year's Eve together; earlier, the two of you decided you should forgo your nightly socially distanced rendezvous in the interest of building anticipation for your imminent in-person one. But you were already in bed when Ashton called to ask if there was anything he should bring tomorrow and one suggestive comment led to another and before you knew it, your hand was between your legs yet again.

“It’s my fault, I asked what kind of chips you wanted me to bring, I should’ve known that would get you hot and bothered,” he jokes, the sound of him pulling tissues from the box on his nightstand now a familiar tune to your ears.

“Pretty goddamn slutty of you, honestly,” you laugh giddily.

“Can’t imagine what you would’ve done had I asked if I could bring soda as well,” he cracks himself up.

You giggle, “Ohhh, listen, if you talk Dr. Pepper to me, I’ll have no choice but to break quarantine and have my way with you right now.”

“Explain how that’s supposed to deter me from the subject,” he teases. You hear his sheets rustling and know he’s settling back into bed. He exhales loudly before admitting, “I’m nervous for tomorrow.”

"Aww, why? It’s just me… just us.”

Ashton is quiet for a beat before answering. “I think part of it is it’s been a long time since I’ve had something to look forward to,” he ponders. “But also… I can’t remember the last time I wanted something… someone… this badly.”

Your heart feels like it skips a beat, like it always seems to around him, since the day you moved in over a year ago. “It’s gonna be good, Ash,” you quietly reassure him, reassure yourself. “We’re gonna be so good.”

10:45am, December 31

You wash your breakfast dishes in record time, focused on all you need to do to finish your work day and get ready for tonight; it’s only when you’re drying your hands that you mindlessly glance up and notice the sight before you.

You look up just as Ashton, midway through his daily workout, is reaching to peel off his white tee that’s mostly soaked through; you find yourself staring as his muscles flex, tighten and relax again as he pulls the material off his body and then uses the discarded shirt to wipe the sweat running down his chest and neck.

He takes a swig from his water bottle before he starts up again and you hear yourself audibly gulp as he bends and stretches, giving you the opportunity to admire his ass and thick thighs in his athletic leggings. You watch his body and lose yourself in thoughts of him hovering above you, moving over you the way he's moving over his mat on the deck.

The alarm on your phone set to remind you to clock back into work snaps you out of your lusty daze. You silence the noise and then quietly cackle to yourself as you type out a text to Ash: “Watching you stretch is really making me look forward to the stretch I’ll be feeling tonight.”

You hang by the window, waiting to see his reaction. He reads your message and a self-satisfied smirk spreads across his face; he looks towards your kitchen, hoping to catch a glimpse of you in all your surely flushed glory, but you’re already gone.  

4:07pm, December 31

Despite your mind's best efforts to distract you with wild thoughts about tonight, your work day finally ends and you head upstairs to get dressed. You stand in front of your closet, weighing your wardrobe options when your phone's text chime sounds out.

You scoop it off the bed, clicking on a message from Ashton reading, "If you need suggestions, you could wear your green dress… I’ve been thinking about taking that off of you for a while now.”

You shake your head at how instantly your heart speeds up once that image is in your mind. You bound over to the window to find him standing in front of his, waving with a cheeky grin on his face. You greet him by holding up the dress he mentioned in one hand and your middle finger in the other. “No spoilers” is your texted reply as you pull your curtains closed for the first time in weeks.

5:10pm, December 31

The doorbell rings and you’re shocked you can hear it over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears; you make yourself count to ten before you answer it. You take a deep breath and turn the knob, opening the door to reveal Ash beaming at you excitedly; one look at him and you feel any nerves that were nagging at you dissipate.

“Hey neighbor,” he greets you with a chuckle.

It takes you a beat before you realize you can reply with more than the shy wave you’re used to and you step forward to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. You breathe him in, grateful to finally decipher the scent you’ve caught occasional wafts of over the fence and have spent so long trying to pin down. It’s sweet, spicy, woodsy and fruity all at once; you can’t wait to have it all over you by the end of the night.

You pull back to study him, it’s the first time you’ve really gotten to look at him up close and he’s stunning. You never noticed his dark hair was dyed but now you see the light roots at his hairline, softening his face; some stray curls have fallen out of place and you sweep them aside, revealing the laugh lines crinkling around his eyes as he smiles at you. His eyes are deep pools of hazel you already feel yourself drowning in and his cheeks are much rounder than you realized, growing bigger the more he grins at you. His lips… well… his lips look soft and shapely and suddenly you feel like you might die if you don’t taste them this instant.

You place your hands on either side of his face, running your thumbs over his beard before closing the gap and pressing your mouth to his. It’s everything and nothing like you’d imagined your first kiss would be: soft, slow, cautious yet undeniably heated. You feel his tongue slide over your bottom lip and you allow him to deepen the kiss; he murmurs as your tongue connects with his for the first time and he pulls away to check in with you.

You offer him a sweet smile that quickly turns into something more frisky. “I think we can do better than that, we’ve spent the past week listening to each other cum,” you tease.

Ashton smirks at you, stepping inside; in one swift motion, he kicks the door shut behind him and scoops you in his arms, backing you up against it, lips crashing into yours. Suddenly it’s like your mouths can’t move fast enough, feverishly trying to make up for lost time. You kiss him like you’re trying to commit his taste to memory and maybe you are.

He breaks away to mouth over your neck, immediately licking and kissing over the parts of your skin his beard scratched moments before; you run your hands through his curls, marveling at the fact that’s something you’re allowed to do now. His mouth ends up sucking over a spot behind your ear that’s such a specific turn on for you, your mind races to remember if you told him that during one of your phone sessions or if he just knew. He bites down a little and you cry out, pushing him back, ready for more.

You slot your lips with his again, already missing his taste on your tongue. You walk him backwards as you kiss, trying desperately to lead him to the nearest surface, any surface where you can get him between your legs.

You make it to your desk at the other end of the living room and you thank your past self for taking the time to put away your work from earlier, although it would’ve been fun to see Ash do the cliché “impassioned arm sweep” to clear it. You hop up on the edge and spread your legs, pulling him close, needing as much of him on you as possible.

Ash groans when your hips move against his and you grin at the feeling of his cock straining against his pants, brushing over your clothed heat. “Hard for me already, eh?” You tease, biting at his lower lip.

He gives a lighthearted scoff. “Please, I’ve been hard for you since I saw you in this dress through the window before I walked over here,” he rasps, gliding his hands up and down your body in the form-fitting outfit to illustrate his point. “You look incredible, by the way.”

You rut against him again and you both moan. “God, I can’t wait any longer, Ash, I need you,” you rush out, breathless.

“Yeah?” He checks, looking over your face, noting the desperation in your eyes. “I have a - ”

“Yeah, please, Ash, fuck,” you pant, out of your mind with desire.

He kisses you hurriedly as his hands skillfully slide under your dress and tug your panties down your legs, setting them aside; he reaches to retrieve a condom out of his coat pocket. It briefly crosses your mind how absurd it is that he’s still wearing his coat and you’re about to move to help him out of it but then he’s pulling his cock out and you can’t focus on anything other than getting your hands on him.

You give him a feather light squeeze before starting an agonizingly slow rhythm on his shaft and reaching down to cup his balls like you’ve seen him do; he’s as thick and heavy in your hand as you imagined and you feel yourself becoming wetter with every stroke. He brushes your hands aside so he can roll the condom on and you capture his lips in a lusty kiss because you’re not sure what else to do.

One of Ashton’s hands cradles your head as you kiss him, the other trails between your thighs and starts teasing your clit; he murmurs into your mouth when he feels how wet you are, how after just a few touches, you’re already rocking into his hand. He breaks the kiss to push your skirt up over your waist so you can both watch as he lines himself up at your entrance. He glances at you and with your eager nod of approval, he starts pushing in.

You inhale sharply at the sensation and he pauses, eyes darting up to yours. “No, it’s good, more,” you insist, hooking your legs around his waist. He continues to slide in and you feel your eyes roll back, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. It's obviously been a while since you've had anyone inside you but the fact that it's Ash and the size of him… what a way to get back in the game.

He groans as he starts moving in you, slowly at first, eyes trained on your face to make sure you’re comfortable. You pull him into a kiss that’s all tongue, tangling your hands in his hair, needing to feel as much of him as you can in this moment. You've started moving along with him, your body asking for more, so he carefully lays you back on the desk, gripping onto your thighs so he can ramp up his pace.

The sound of his hips hitting yours, your clothes rustling together and your intertwined grunts and moans of encouragement for each other fill the living room. He lets go of one of your legs so he can move his hand back down to your clit and as he rubs circles on it, you curse under your breath, stunned you already feel as undone as you do.

"I'm already close," you whisper, gripping his arm as he leans in, bracing himself on his hands on either side of you.

"First of many tonight," he smirks, trying to maintain his sexy cool demeanor but failing as you both burst into giggles at his remark. He lightly encourages you, "Tell me what you need."

You squeeze your clothed breasts and use your legs to bring him even closer to you. "Hard. Just. Hard," you pant.

Ash growls, grabbing your legs again, pushing them up towards your chest, fingers digging into your skin as he thrusts with force. You cry out at his renewed vigor, at the change in angle making him somehow feel even thicker and longer inside you. You bring your hand to your clit and it only takes a few seconds of pressure for your breath to catch and your body to start shaking.

"Ash… fuckfuckfuckfuck oh my god," you breathe, pawing at the collar of his coat, your back arching up off the desk as your orgasm crests.

You're not sure if he was holding off waiting for you to finish or if the intensity of your body climaxing around him does him in but Ashton follows you over the edge less than a minute later. He gasps your name as he cums like you've heard him do many times over the phone but hearing him say it as he hovers above you, knowing your pussy is the reason for his pleasure is a different experience entirely.

He collapses on you briefly and you revel in the tactile experience: his lips pressing gently against your neck as he comes down, the texture of his wool coat under your fingertips as you rub his back, the unexpectedly satisfying scratch of his beard on your skin.

Ashton's lips travel back up to yours in an unhurried, relaxed kiss before he pushes himself back over you, joking, "We've really got to work on that impulse control thing, don't we?"

7:52pm, December 31

The two of you enjoyed a nice dinner comprised of delicious food and compatible conversation; you’ve talked a lot over the past few weeks but being able to finally be so close, being able to touch his arm when he says something sweet, feel his laughter vibrate the wood of your table - there’s an air of normalcy and domesticity that wasn’t there before. It’s nice, almost like there aren’t strange global circumstances that led to this evening, like you haven’t been basically dating from a distance.

You stand up to clear the table and when you reach for his plate, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his lap, hugging you tight and thanking you for inviting him over. He helps you carry the dishes to the kitchen because of course he does and when he stands at the sink to rinse them, you wrap your arms around his waist and press your face into his back, because that’s something you've always wanted to do.

You move to the living room, coffee mugs in hand but they’re soon forgotten with the return of Ash’s lips to your neck and your hands in his hair. You’re not in the hurry that you were earlier so everything feels much more relaxed; you’re able to appreciate the little things more, like the way he hums into your kiss when you brush his hair behind his ears, the quick pecks he sneaks in as he’s pulling out of a long liplock with you.

He finally undresses you, laying you gently on the couch in your underwear. “For someone who said they’d been waiting to get me out of that dress, sure took you a while,” you tease, gasping as his hands massage your breasts through the lace you’re wearing and his mouth peppers kisses over your stomach.

“Looked too good, wanted to enjoy it a little longer,” he smoothly replies, hooking his thumbs in your panties, glancing up at you to make sure it’s okay for him to continue. You nod, lifting your hips to aid the process. He kisses his way back up your legs, beard dragging across your skin, murmuring, “Something else I’ve waited too long to do…” before pressing a series of wet kisses directly over your clit.

You squirm against his face, eager for him to get into it but Ashton seems determined to take his time, slowly teasing up and down your lips, moving over to nip at your thighs and then returning to your pussy, tongue lavishing attention everywhere except where you want him most.

You’re just about to speak up when his fingers spread your lips apart and his tongue starts fluttering at your clit, causing you to suck in a breath instead. “God, Ash, yes, like that,” you encourage, fighting to keep your eyes open so you can watch him work. It feels so much better, looks so much more erotic than you ever could’ve imagined.

His mouth remains attached as he slips a finger inside you; the way your hips start grinding against him tells him when you’re ready for another and you moan as his tongue and fingers find an alternating rhythm to please you.

You paw at your tits, pinching your nipples through your bra as he works you. He pulls off to catch his breath, pushing himself up near your face to check in. “This working for you?” He asks, panting.

You affectionately swipe over what you thought was sweat on his beard, groaning at the realization it’s actually moisture courtesy of you. “Are you fucking kidding me, dude?” You laugh. “The other night I came thinking about you doing this and it’s already better than both the fantasy and the toy I used.”

He grins with pride. “Good,” he winks at you before diving back in.

Ashton eats your pussy with confidence, attentively listening to your sounds to determine what you like best. It’s when he sets one of your legs over his shoulder, angling your hips up slightly, that you start sounding really desperate and he smirks to himself. “Aww, ready to cum already? I was just getting started,” he taunts playfully.

You let out a guttural moan at his remark, gripping his hair a little bit rougher, holding him to your body a little bit tighter. He grabs on to your hips as they try to speed up and you murmur incoherent praise as you cum on his tongue.

He continues to lick at you, cleaning you until you push him away, clamping your legs shut. He massages over your thighs tenderly before moving up to kiss you. With a twinkle in his eye, he asks, “So what other fantasies of yours can we best while I'm here?”

9:24pm, December 31

After an enthusiastic but quicker than either of you would’ve preferred blowjob on the couch, you and Ash end up back in the kitchen, ready for a snack. You giggle to yourself as you stand in just his shirt, digging through your kitchen junk drawer, searching for a rubber band to help grip the jar of nacho sauce neither of you seem to be able to open.

“It’s not funny, how humiliating that I’m showing such weakness on our first date,” he jokes through gritted teeth, trying his hardest to turn the lid.

You grin, enjoying the show of Ashton clad only in his boxers, pouting as he loses the battle against a jar of cheese sauce. “Yes, you’ve fed me, done my dishes and made me cum twice since you’ve been here but I clearly still need you to prove your worth as a mate to me,” you smirk, passing him the rubber band you discovered. “Although I have to say, if you want to keep trying to open that yourself, I don’t hate watching those tattoos dance while you struggle.”

He laughs sarcastically as he fits the band over the lid and effortlessly pops it open seconds later. “Easy, I don’t know why you were so worried,” he giggles loudly before he even finishes his sentence.

He begins pouring the cheese over the chips you set out and you slide yourself under his free arm, fitting easily into his side. “New Year’s resolution, you clearly need to work on your upper body strength,” you tease, playfully biting at his shapely bicep.

He snorts, smiling as he passes you the plate of food to put in the microwave. He leans against the counter, observing you fondly while he wonders out loud, “Are you a New Year’s resolutions person?”

You move to get the other toppings out of the fridge; you stop and think before passing him the goods. “I mean, I’ll make them but I never really follow through. It’s like after the first week or so it just kind of slips my mind... maybe I’m making the wrong resolutions, I guess.” You shrug, setting the heated plate on the counter. “You?”

Ash shakes his head, hopping up on the counter so he can easily look at you and dress the nachos at the same time. “I never really understood why the calendar resetting is supposed to be this all-powerful impetus for change. If you want to do something, you should just do it no matter what the date is,” he says passionately, with furrowed brow.

You nod, pouring two glasses of soda. “It’s important to make goals but the rigidity of a resolution kind of just chains you to one thing when the whole point of a new year is that you don’t know what it will bring," you point out. "I think that's what's slipped me up before. Instead of saying 'I'll work out five days a week' I should be saying 'I want to live healthier.' It shouldn't be about the thing, it should be about the change you want to see."

You notice he's gone quiet and you look up at him inquisitively. You find him gazing at you, enchanted. "I agree," he reassures you. "I was just enjoying hearing you talk about it."

You feel your cheeks get warm and you pause to take a sip to collect yourself. "What I do like about New Year’s is the opportunity to reflect on the year you’ve had and let that inform what your next year will be like," you share. "So. What's one thing you didn't do this year that you wish you had? And not something because of quarantine, that's a copout."

Ashton doesn't hesitate to say, "I wish I had gotten to know you sooner."

10:53pm, December 31

You chuckle at Ash's wide-eyed interest, “No, I haven’t used that one to get off with you yet.” You take the thick blue dildo from his hands and smack it on the headboard of your bed, yanking on it to demonstrate the suction cup. “It’s more of a shower toy… or sometimes I’ll stick it to one of my chairs and ride it.”

His cock twitches with interest and he absentmindedly gives it a subtle squeeze. “Well we’re gonna put a pin in that, I guess,” he mutters, peering back into the drawer. “Also I like that you said ‘yet.’”

You smile widely at him, enjoying his enthusiasm. You’d finally made it to bed and were getting ready to ride him but when you opened your bedside table to grab a condom, your toy collection caught his attention and curiosity took over; you’ve spent the last five minutes watching him eye your toys, eagerly asking which ones you’ve used during your phone conversations with him.

He jumps as a pink contraption he doesn’t recognize starts to rumble out of his grasp with the push of a button. You giggle and reach over, unfolding it, placing the top portion of it over the back of his hand. “I used this one last night,” you admit, clicking the second button, watching his jaw drop as he feels the toy start lightly sucking at his skin.

“You’ve definitely had a much more fun quarantine than me,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief as he turns up the settings of the vibe. “What do you even need me here for?”

“You’re a lot nicer to talk to,” you say sweetly, leaning in to give him a playful kiss.

“I also would’ve accepted ‘your cock is much bigger, Daddy,’” Ash deadpans. He waits a beat before bursting into loud laughter, clarifying, “I’m totally kidding.”

“Well we’re gonna put a pin in that, I guess,” you tease, reaching down to lightly give him a few strokes. “Although I don’t know if I can say that first part, you haven’t seen my other drawer… I’m totally kidding.”

He scoffs, kissing you hard, placing his hands on either side of your ass and moving you closer to him. ”What’d you do with that condom?”

You pat around the bed for a few seconds, triumphantly holding up the stray package you found lost in the sheets. You roll the condom on him while he continues rifling through your belongings. “This is cute,” he declares, rolling a purple bullet vibe across his fingers. “And tiny. We could probably use this right now, huh?”

You raise your eyebrows, surprised but impressed at his openness. “Yeah, if you want, that’d actually be great,” you agree.

He beams at you, tossing you the vibrator while he settles back against the pillows; you set it aside and sling your leg over him, leaning in to kiss him thoroughly. You lean your forehead against his as you line yourself up over his cock and start rolling your hips back and forth, teasing the both of you by running your pussy over him; you watch him bite his lip, not sure whether to cry out from pleasure or object in frustration. Finally, you reach to guide him inside you. You take him a little easier than last time but the stretch is still deliciously intense and Ash can see it on your face. He plays with your tits while you adjust, watching you closely to see what you like.

You eventually start moving, lightly bracing yourself on his chest as you get going; you set a moderate speed, eager to let him fill you but cautious of trying to pace yourself, trying to pay attention to what he seems to respond to. You switch from rocking to a bouncing motion after a couple minutes and his hands move to squeeze your hips, helping you along; you notice his eyes haven’t left your breasts since you started moving like this and you whimper, running your hands down your front, stopping to pinch and play as needed.

Ashton's hands soon replace yours again and you arch your back, allowing him easier access. He gives a low groan, you’re giving him such a show, he’s not sure where to look. You’re leaned back and bracing yourself on his thighs, hard nipples jutting out, begging for attention; you expertly work your bodies together and he finds himself hypnotized watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again.

You love how he’s staring at you; it’s making you feel wanted and bold and you decide to tease him a little. “Working so hard to take all this cock, does it look as good as it feels?” You murmur, lifting yourself off almost entirely and then sliding back down on him with ease. “You like watching me fuck you?”

A growl escapes his lips and his hands roam your body wildly. “Doing so good… look so fucking good riding me,” he says, voice rasping with desire. “Better than I ever imagined.”

He feels the overwhelming need to make you moan for him and he sneaks his hand between your folds; you jolt at the contact, letting out a yelp and he smiles at his victory. He reaches over and grabs the vibe, tapping your leg to ask if you’re ready. You answer with a breathy “uh-huh” as you continue riding him.

He clicks the button, setting it to the lowest speed and presses it to your clit to gauge your reaction; you shift your rhythm, slowing to allow yourself to feel the new stimulation. You lick your lips, mumbling, “Oh, that’s nice,” as you grasp his hand to move the toy over just a bit until you’re moaning outright.

Ash holds the vibe on you for a bit longer until you sit up to change position. After a short spell of trial and error, he slips the bullet between your bodies and you help him once again fit it against you until it’s giving you the kind of stimulation you need. You roll your hips a few times, testing the setup and within seconds you’re whining, his cock hitting inside you in just the right place and the vibrations making you squirm above him.

He runs his hands up and down your thighs, watching you work yourself on him, using his body and your vibrator to build your climax; he gently rocks up into you, not wanting to disrupt you but between your movements and the stray buzzing of your bullet, he’s starting to become overwhelmed himself.

“Ash! Fuck… good… fuck,” you mutter, falling forward, place your arms on either side of his head to prop yourself up as you keep fucking him. “Close. God, I’m so close. Please.”

He recognizes that tone of desperation in your voice and knows just what to say to help you over the edge. “Fuckin’ me so good… ‘bout to make me cum for you… need to feel you cum around me first,” he wraps his arms around your back, panting in your ear. “Come on, baby, you deserve it.”

Your breathing speeds up and you whine his name as you start to pulse around him, losing your rhythm, clawing at his shoulders. He holds you as you cum, riding it out until you can’t take it anymore and you reach between you, throwing the vibrator across the bed, not even bothering to shut it off.

Ashton chuckles softly at your frenzied action and notices what looks like a wince as you rock yourself lightly on him. “Hey, I can finish another way if this is too much for you,” he offers.

You shake your head vigorously. “No, it still feels good,” you tell him insistently. “I’m just tired. Maybe you could…”

He gathers your meaning and pulls you down into a sloppy kiss before you move your mouth to his neck, slowly sucking to leave a mark, humming as his beard scrapes your skin; he grips your ass tightly with both hands and starts fucking up into you. He begins cautiously, wanting to make sure you’re still feeling good and as the noises pouring from your lips reassure him that you are, he increases his speed, thrusting up with force.

Your moans blend together in perfect harmony until yours trail off as you lose your breath; before you know what’s happening, you feel yourself cumming again and hard. You bury your face in Ash’s neck, hands tugging roughly at his hair. Feeling you squeeze around him again and with such intensity is enough to set him off and with a few loud grunts, he’s filling the condom.

He sighs deeply, rubbing your back as the two of you come down; your breathing falls into a synchronized rhythm and you bask in how nice it feels just to lay with him for a minute.

"Well that was something," he comments, pecking the top of your head as he helps you off of him, laying you on your pillow.

You quickly pull him back in, planting a quick kiss on his lips before he gets out of bed. "No, you are," you coo.

12:39am, January 1

"Ash… Ash… we missed it," you laugh softly, pressing kissing along his collarbones until his eyes flutter open.

"Huh?"

"We fell asleep and missed midnight," you explain with an amused smile. "Happy New Year."

He lifts his head up, looking around the room in confusion. After you’d both cleaned up, you climbed back in bed, intending to relax and chat until it was time to watch the midnight countdown on TV. Evidently, once the cuddles started, exhaustion from the night's activities overtook you both and you awoke to the sound of fireworks going off in the neighborhood.

"Oh," he frowns, rolling on his side to face you. "Well. Happy New Year." He leans in and gives you a soft kiss that easily could turn into more but you pull back, wanting to say something.

You run your hand up and down his side and say, "I'm glad we did this." He raises an eyebrow, smirking at you and you playfully pinch his arm. "You know what I mean. I'm glad you came over. I'm glad you're here."

Ashton's face softens and he scoots closer to you, placing his head next to you on your pillow. "Me too," he responds sincerely. "Sorry we missed midnight though, wanted to kiss you."

“Well lucky for us, we’ll get another midnight in about 23 hours,” you grin, reaching over to scratch his beard.

He slips his hand around your waist, pulling you to his lips. He murmurs against your mouth, “Do over at my place? It’s a date.”

————-

Taglist issues again so my apologies if you get notif’d more than once (or not at all)

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[anna-pixie]

padawan -> obi-wan kenobi {part three}

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

hello!! i have written and rewritten this part a lot, and i still can’t decide whether i am completely happy with it, so honest feedback is encouraged!! ty all so much for your love on the last part, i hope you enjoy <3

summary: you and obi-wan head out on another mission, but something has got him in an awful mood (lmk if you guys figure out what his mood is about before the next part!!)

pairings: obi-wan kenobi x reader

warnings: mentions of sex

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

“Y/N, when you said you were serious about your training I expected I would see you there on time each morning.” The familiar lilt of Obi-Wan’s voice jerks you up from your incredibly deep sleep. You wipe away the drool from the corner of your mouth and gaze around your room with bleary eyes. 

There’s nobody there. 

Then a knock sounds from your door and you realise that your Master is too respectful to just barge into your room without permission. 

“Come in, Master.”

You hear the hiss of your door sliding open and smile sheepishly as your favourite bearded face peers around into the unhomely expanse of your room. Unlike the Jedi Masters, padawans weren’t encouraged to decorate their rooms. That’s a privilege earnt through time and experience. You’re thankful that you went to bed wearing a large jumper last night, though as you stretch the material exposes your stomach ever so slightly. 

“I broke my datapad yesterday…” You trail off, knowing that this is the third one you’ve gone through this year, “I didn’t have anything to set an alarm on.” An innocent smile graces your lips as Obi-Wan sighs, sitting next to you on your unmade sheets as he returns it with his own wry grin. 

“Whatever am I going to do with you, Padawan?” You know your Master well enough by now to be able to tell what he is feeling by the tone of his incredibly expressive voice, and thankfully right now he doesn’t seem too annoyed by your lack of care for your datapad. However, you also know that you’re treading on very thin ice, that you’re going to have to start putting a lot more effort in unless you want him to give up on you like everyone else has. 

It’s been a few weeks since you met Ahsoka which gave you the motivation you needed to get back on track. To say it’s been a hard few weeks would be an understatement. You’re up every morning before the light, fighting and learning and meditating with Obi-Wan. The two of you spend a lot of time together alone in the mornings and evenings when most other people in the temple have already retired to bed, but a lot of your time in the day is shared by Anakin - he thinks it is a great idea to train you and Ahsoka together. 

Now that was a kick in the teeth. 

You like Ahsoka, you really do, but it’s so humiliating to be trained alongside someone so much younger than you. Especially in front of the man you’re head over heels in love with. And, as another cherry on top of the cake of your shit life, the senate has been quiet as of late, which means Padme has plenty of free time to come and oversee your training sessions. Keeping an eye on the Jedi Temple, she says, but everyone sees the smiles exchanged between her and her Jedi. It makes you feel queasy. 

How are you supposed to focus on training when your biggest distraction is hanging in front of you everyday?

You have to give it to Obi-Wan, he tries his best to steer you away from the pain caused by seeing Anakin and Padme together. He stands directly in your eyeline when he knows they are near each other, so that you can’t see anything except his smiling face. When Anakin suggests lunch with Ahsoka and Padme, Obi-Wan regretfully informs him of the non-existent prior engagements the two of you have with a sneaky smile your way. 

With all the hardship of the past few weeks, you’re happy with how close it has brought you and your Master. 

“Can we just leave it for today, Master? Please.” You flop back down onto your bed, your eyes remaining on Obi-Wan as you send him your best pleading, doe-eyed look. 

“Sadly, we’ve been called away to war so I’m afraid that isn’t an option. It seems as though this is going to be a long operation. We’re first needed in Umbara, it seems as though General Krell has been executed by the clones. After that we go straight to Mandalore.”

“The clones executed a Jedi General?” Your voice is high as you stand up, heading over to your small closet and quickly rifling through your clothes to find something that would hold up for a few days. 

“It appears that he was a Separitast sympathiser. He turned two clone units against each other, forced them to kill their own.”

Your eyes are wide as Obi-Wan continues to explain the situation awaiting the two of you on Umbara, and your heart clenches as you think about what the Clones must have been gonig through during their time there. You know attachments are forbidden as a Jedi, but you can’t help the close relationships you have formed with some of the soldiers. Captain Rex is like a brother to you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

An hour later, you’re holding onto the bar above you as your ship takes off in the direction of Umbara, Obi-Wan looking more jittery than you’ve ever seen him as he paces around next to you. 

“You okay, Master? You seem shaken up.”

“I’m fine, young one.” He dismisses you with a shake of your head, “Come with me, we may as well get some training in whilst we’re enroute.” He doesn’t say anything else, just turns away and heads out of the bridge with not so much as a glance back to make sure you’re following him.

What on Alderaan is going on with him?

His mood doesn’t let up during training, you’ve never seen him come at you so relentlessly. If it wasn’t for the fact that they knew you so well, the passing clones would probably assume that the two of you were fighting to the death in your training room. 

A cry escapes your mouth as he knocks the saber from your hand, as it clatters to the ground and rolls somewhere you don’t bother to look for, you expect him to stop. However his saber remains active, and he seems to be in a trance of sorts as he swings for you once more, only stopped from making contact with a part of your body when you swing your leg out from beneath you, causing the two of you to fall to the ground with a low grunt from him. His saber falls from his grasp in the same way yours did, and you work on figuring out how to calm him down as his body cages yours into the ground. 

The only noise in the room is the sound of you both breathing heavily, and when your eyes finally look up and meet his again you almost feel as though he has used the force to steal your breath away from you. His blue eyes capture yours, not letting up as his gaze seems to only darken the longer the two of you lay there. 

You can’t help but be reminded of a similar situation you found yourself in with Anakin a while ago, the two of you ended up tangled on the ground after a round of playful sparring. It was all heavy breathing and dark looks and you remember that all you could think was how much you had wanted him to kiss you in that moment.

So why, Maker tell, do you have the exact same feeling now? You thought that your crush on Obi-Wan had been a silly, fleeting thing back when you first began training under him. You didn’t think it would return with a vengeance, your mind silently asking him to lean down further as you struggle to pull your eyes away from his own. When you and Anakin has been in this same situation, you had hoped that he was going to kiss you, so it was humiliating when he finally tore his gaze from yours and pulled himself away from you with an awkward cough. 

You think that Obi-Wan will do the same. Of course he will, he’s the most rule abiding Jedi you’ve ever met. 

That’s why, when you feel his lips being placed softly on yours, you think you’re just hallucinating. It takes your mind a moment to catch up to what is actually occurring, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulls away and then presses his lips to yours with more fervour once he realises that you aren’t going to push him away. 

The hand that almost struck you with his saber minutes before reaches up, holding onto your jaw whilst the other keeps him steady on top of you. He breathes heavily as he kisses you, your breath minging as you savour the feeling. This isn’t your first kiss, you had snuck out to the clubs of Coruscant before and kissed random boys before, but this was different. This was your first kiss since you had fallen in love with Anakin. All those nights you had spent dreaming, hoping, praying that he would be the next person you kiss. Yet here you are, your lips moving feverishly against your Master’s as you thread one of your hands into the long hair at the nape of his neck. 

You must stay like that, basking in the feeling of each other for a good few minutes before a loud bang from the corridor snaps you both out of the spell you had fallen under. Obi-Wan quickly gets up, sticking out his hand to locate his saber, unable to look you in the eye as you slowly rise from your position. Your mouth tingles and your eyes are wide as you stare at the side of Obi-Wan’s head. 

He smooths his hand over his beard and mumbles a quick, “That shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry, Padawan.” before leaving the room hastily. You flinch at the way he says the word Padawan, like he is reminding you both that what you just did was not only forbidden but also extremely morally wrong. You’ve never been one to care about such trivialities, but Obi-Wan is definitely a fair bit older than you, to say the least. 

As you catch your breath and find your lightsaber, you think to yourself that it’s good that you were interrupted, because if you weren’t then you might’ve been found by a soldier who would’ve reported what he saw back to the council. You ignore the part of you that wishes you would have continued, that thinks of how well your lips worked together and how at home you felt with his body on top of yours. And most of all, you ignore the part of you that wonders if him kissing you had anything to do with his sudden mood change since departing for the trip.

The rest of the journey is slow and quiet, you take some time to meditate and gather your thoughts, knowing you’re in no state to be dealing with anything important right now. A soldier offers you something to eat but you have to decline, with the way your stomach is turning you know you won’t be able to stomach any food. 

Obi-Wan seems to have retired to somewhere quiet on the ship, you don’t see him until you touch down on Umbara. The capital has been captured now, and that is where you will spend the night before heading to Mandalore, however you must first deal with the execution of General Krell at a nearby facility that was taken by the clones. 

You walk silently alongside your Master, an awkward tension in the air that is an extreme change from your usual playful banter and general good moods. As you approach Captain Rex and his troopers, he shoots you an inquisitive look, which you quickly brush off with a whisper that you’ll talk to him later. 

The situation is resolved quickly, you and your Master both know you can take Rex’s word for the events that transpired, and you make sure Krell’s body is properly taken care of. 

“We’ve only got one spare speeder on us, General, so Y/N will have to ride with one of the boys.” Are Captain Rex’s departing words before his gunship takes off towards the capital, leaving you, Obi-Wan and a few more troopers to travel back via speeder. 

“You can ride with me, Y/N.” A clone who is about to depart shouts over to you, though your attempt to walk in his direction is thwarted by a sudden, harsh grip on your forearm. You turn quickly, shocked to see Obi-Wan shake his head, gesturing over to his own speeder instead. 

“She’ll ride with me.” 

The trooper offers no argument, simply saluting the two of you before speeding off towards the capital with a trail of dust in his wake. 

You notice that Obi-Wan still hasn’t directly addressed you since the incident on the ship, so you stay quiet whilst climbing onto the speeder, waiting for him to say something. A squeak leaves your mouth when you’re pushed forward, Obi-Wan’s large body enveloping you from behind as he reaches past you to grab hold of the handles, and you’re off before you can even think about what is going on.

“We need to talk when we get back.”

Are the first words spoken to you, and the last, because he quickly falls silent. Though, you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you when his chin rests on your shoulder, his beard scratching your cheek oh so slightly. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dinner in Umbara is a quick affair, you scoff down what you can, not talking as much as usual due to your preoccupied mind. Obi-Wan disappeared after you both briefed Master Windu who is still back at the temple, and you wonder if he is off meditating somewhere, trying to reconcile for the ‘mistake’ that the two of you made. 

You’ve been fighting your own inner turmoil about the situation since it happened earlier that day. Once you finish your food, you retire back to the uncomfortable bed in a tiny room at the top of the large building, assuming that Obi-Wan has decided to forgo the conversation and ignore you altogether. 

As you lie on the hard metal, your mind wanders over the past few months. You wonder how Anakin would react if he knew you and Obi-Wan had kissed. Would he be angry? Jealous? Happy? Deep down you know you would want him to be jealous, you would want him to be angry at the thought of any other man having you in the way that he wants you. 

But he doesn’t want you in that way, you remind yourself. Does Obi-Wan even want you in that way? You know he is a well revered man, and nobody can deny how good looking he is. If he really was looking for a romantic, or even just sexual, connection he could probably find that anywhere - why would he get that from plain old you?

A pang of sadness hits your gut as you think about him regretting the kiss, returning to Coruscant and finding another girl that he would rather betray the Jedi code in order to be with. And with wide eyes and a whisper of ‘oh no’, you realise that this is exactly how you felt when your feelings for Anakin started growing stronger. Just what did that kiss stir within you, surely your years old feelings for your Master haven’t suddenly resurfaced, right?

A knock on your door startles you, that deep in thought you hadn’t heard anyone approaching your rather isolated room. 

“Y/N?” It’s Obi-Wan. 

“You can come in, it’s open.

He slides the door open, his actions sheepish and small and not at all like the overly confident man he usually is. It pains you to see him like this, stumbling and second guessing everything he does. 

“You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked when you’re not on Coruscant, anything could wander in.”

“Sorry, Master.” You’ve shuffled to the edge of the bed now, Obi-Wan sitting beside you, mirroring the exact position you were in when he woke you up this morning. Before everything turned into a mess. 

“I… I’m so sorry, Padawan. I abused my position as your Master and I never should’ve even thought about doing something like that with you. Especially after you confided in me about your feelings for Anakin, I don’t want you to think that I’m taking advantage of your vulnerability.” His voice is so shaky that you barely recognise it, and a wave of sadness hits you when you realise that he must’ve been carrying this burden of guilt around with him all day. 

“Obi-Wan, it’s fine. You didn’t force yourself on me, I was completely on board when it happened, in fact I quite enjoyed it. I know it was wrong, against the code or whatever, but I won’t tell anybody. Please don’t feel guilty.” You make sure he keeps his eyes on you, a delicate touch on his cheek to keep him faced your way. A sigh emits from his mouth and your heart swells in your chest when he leans his head into your hand, seeking your comfort. 

“I’m tired, Y/N. This war, I’m beginning to feel it’s toll.”

“There’s no shame in admitting you need a break, Master, but it’s not just tiredness that is eating at you right now. I know you, there’s something else going on. You can tell me. Is it something to do with Umbara, Mandalore, anything?”

“Thank you for your concern, Padawan, I’m quite alright.”

“Don’t do that, Obi-Wan.” Your voice wavers this time, “Don’t use that title as a way to brush me off. Yes, I’m your Padawan, but I hope that by now I’m also your friend.”

“Jedi aren’t supposed to have friends, Y/N.”

You scoff, removing your hand from his face as you turn away from him, not wanting to look at him as he lies to you. 

“I was always jealous of him, you know.” He speaks again, after a few minutes of slightly uncomfortable silence. 

“Of who?”

“Anakin.”

You turn back, your interest peaked as he looks at you. You swallow, a blush coating your cheeks as you note that his eyes are as dark as they were before. Before he kissed you. 

“What reason could you possibly have had for being jealous of him? Oh, Maker, don’t tell me you’re in love with Senator Amidala.”

He chuckles, “No, little one, I was jealous of him because he always seemed to have your attention when he cared so little for you. I wanted you to look at me the way you looked at him.”

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

tag list:

@blondekel77

@magicalaquarian

@acciovisio

@lysawayne

@theriveroftruth

@algentforthewin

@pree-2003-blog

@asaucecoveredsomething

@urbankaite2

@marauder-lover

@idiakh

@mandosboobiez

@whyiminlove

@poguesvixen

[write4tomorrow]

Weakness

Word Count: 3366

Pairing: Sith!Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

Summary: Master Kenobi fell from the Jedi order many years ago, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t kept close tabs on the jedi order since. As Darth Dominus, he has recently discovered that he is part of a Force Dyad… with a jedi. How will he bring her to his side? 

Genre: Angst / Fluff

A/N: This is part two to this one shot I wrote, but can be read as just a one shot. Also, in this universe, Count Dooku has two apprentices. 

The only light in the dark conference room came from the blue hologram in Darth Dominus’ palm. He watched as the Jedi knight moved faster than he had seen any Jedi ever move. With two lightsabers, the wielder must be incredibly in tune with their surroundings and the force to fight without also hurting themselves. They had to be really good. The Jedi in Dominus' palm wasn’t just good, she was a master. 

Dominus scowled at his own thoughts. This girl was going to stop him from taking the republic for himself. He had seen it time and time again in his dreams and his meditations and the occasional vision. You were going to be his downfall. Your face plagued him like the lingering flavor of honey after a burning cup of coruscanti tea. So why couldn’t he stop staring at the hologram? Why couldn’t he bring himself to confront this inevitable downfall? 

Because it wasn’t inevitable. For every vision he saw of you turning against him, he saw another dream of you in beautiful crimson robes with a pair of red sabers to match. For every vision he saw of you standing against him, he saw another of you standing by his side. This was his curse, to be half of a dyad. 

He had been able to keep it well hidden. No one knew except you and him but that didn’t mean he liked it. How had he wound up the other half of a Jedi? His one weakness was you and he hated both you and himself for it. So why couldn’t he stop gazing at you on the hologram? Why couldn’t he stop himself from reaching out to you through the force? And why didn’t you ever respond? 

“Oh, Kenobi. You really can’t stop yourself, can you?” Darth Maul had crept into the room without Dominus noticing. He knew that using his jedi name would rattle him but Maul was always trying to rattle him. If only Dominus had been more aware of his own surroundings. He cursed Maul’s unnaturally quiet robotic legs and tried to deactivate the hologram. However, Maul used the force to pull the moving image of you out of Dominus’ grip. 

“She’s good,” Maul teased, “do you think she moves those hips like that when-”

In a flash Dominus had ignited his lightsaber and sliced the hologram peice in half, narrowly missing Maul’s hand. Unfazed, Darth Maul raised an eyebrow at the sudden outburst. 

“You’re distracted, and Tyrannus can tell.” At Maul’s words, Dominus’ face paled in the dark room. His saber was still drawn and he thought about taking his anger out on Maul. Instead, he tucked his saber back into his dark robe and ran a hand over his beard to calm himself. 

“I will speak with Tyrannus. Don’t worry about her,” Dominus tried to push past Maul to leave the room, but Maul stepped in his way. 

“Oh he knows about y/n,” Maul smiled as he said your name, “in fact, I came to tell you that he’s on his way to deal with her now.” Maul laughed as Dominus’s face lost all remaining color and the former Jedi left the room in a sprint. 

*******************************

Reconnaissance missions weren’t your specialty, but you always enjoyed stepping into an undercover role. You were attending a separatist gala as a senator’s liaison. The actual senator was still on his ship, a few miles above the planet’s atmosphere, dealing with a pesky cusom’s agent by the name of Anakin Skywalker. Ahsoka Tano had accompanied you to the gala in the hopes that two listening ears were better than just one. 

You hadn’t seen her in a few hours though and were beginning to worry. With your best smile, you excused yourself from the conversation with one of the banking clan members. 

“Ahsoka,” you hissed into your coms, “Where are you?” After a moment of static, you heard Anakin’s voice answer.

“Her com may have died,” Anakin sighed, “Besides, the lovely senator has decided to just go home so I don’t need to be up here anymore. I am going to come down to you guys and see if I can find her.” 

“Thanks, Anakin,” you whispered, “let me know if you find anything.” You felt a little better knowing that Anakin was on his way to you. You hadn’t realized it, but something was making you tense. Something felt wrong. 

You knew better than to ignore your intuition. If something felt wrong, something probably was wrong. You felt the weight of your sabers in the small purse around your shoulder. Protectively you used one hand to cover your purse and the other to grab your black skirt. Lifting your dress up just a little, you tried to quickly leave the room. Perhaps some air would help clear your head and you would be able to think of a plan. 

“There you are.” You stopped short as a body stepped into your way. With a quick glance up, you recognized the man. You had never met before, but Anakin and Ahsoka had told you many stories about Count Dooku. This was the man that talked Obi-Wan Kenobi into joining the separatists and the Sith. If Count Dooku was here, was Obi-Wan close as well? 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you feigned politeness, “I don’t think I know-”

“Don’t play dumb, girl,” Dooku countered, “besides, if you don’t know me, perhaps you know her?” Dooku pulled out a small screen from his pocket and showed an image of Ahsoka. Your heart sank. Ahsoka was bound by some of the heaviest handcuffs you’d ever seen. Two separatists droids were keeping her on her knees. 

“Take my arm and smile,” Dooku grinned as he spoke, “it’s an honor to finally meet you, y/n.” Without seeing another good option, you allowed yourself to be led out of the room. You hoped that Anakin would get here soon. 

Dooku didn’t speak while he led you away. As you walked, he wordlessly took the small bag from around your shoulders and tucked your lightsabers into his own jacket pocket. You tried to think of a good way out of your current situation, but the walk was over before you could think of anything. 

After a few short turns down increasingly reclusive hallways, Dooku pulled you into a storage room near one of the building’s exits. Upon seeing Ahsoka, you tried to move toward her, but Dooku pulled you back. 

“Tell us what you want, Dooku,” you tried to keep your voice calm, “so we can all be on our way.” 

“There is nothing you can do that I want,” Dooku said with a shrug. His eyes watched you for a reaction and you could tell he was expecting you to do something.

“Everybody wants something,” you returned, “and you’re talking to the best negotiator in the Jedi Order.” You did your best to match Dooku’s calm demeanor. He only smiled back at you.

“I’ve heard of your reputation as both negotiator and battle strategist,” Dooku glanced at Ahsoka, “but you’re going to have to do more than talk your way out of this one, dear Jedi.” 

“Give me my sabers, dear captor,” you offered, “and we can exchange more than words.” Dooku laughed and drew himself up to his fullest height.

“Clever girl with a silver tongue, no wonder he likes you.” At Dooku’s words, you froze. Was he talking about… no. You pushed the thought of Obi-Wan Kenobi from your mind. That man - that Sith - took up too much of your time already. Sometimes it felt like you couldn’t get him out of your head, no matter how hard you tried. Even when you slept or mediated, you saw visions of him. 

Even now, there was a nagging pull in your mind that usually meant he was trying to reach you. You closed your eyes, trying to push the feeling away. 

“My ship will be here soon,” Dooku continued, “and you will board it with me or Ahsoka will die in this room.” You looked down at Anakin’s apprentice and could feel the fear well up inside of her. There was defiance too and you smiled as Ahsoka shook her head. She was brave and you adored her for it. 

Please, please listen to me, You heard the familiar voice in your mind. It was Obi-Wan Kenobi and, just like you had time and time again, you tried to ignore him. Still, you felt him push harder than he ever had before.

Dooku is coming for you, y/n, Obi-Wan warned. 

Dooku has me. You answered without keeping the mirth from your voice. There was a pause from Obi-Wan. Perhaps it was his shock that you had answered him at all. After all, you had done your best to stay radio silent over the past several months. But now you were straining to keep his presence at bay and you could feel both Ahsoka and Dooku looking at you. You tried to fake a smile but you felt Obi-Wan pushing his way into your mind. 

I’m almost there, he said, be ready. He didn’t need to say more. You could feel him becoming stronger, closer. And you knew he meant to do something brash. 

“When do we leave?” You asked Dooku. 

“Y/n,” Ahsoka pleaded, “don’t do this.” Dooku nodded at the droid who took that as a signal to bring the end of a blaster down on Ahsoka’s head hard enough to make her cry out. You tried to push towards the padowan again, but Dooku pulled out his red saber and leveled it at your chest. 

“We leave now,” Dooku glared at you as you thought about retaliating. Quietly, you made your way out of the room, closely followed by the Sith Lord. His saber was no longer ignited but he kept it in his hand as an idol threat. You gave Ahsoka one last look before he closed the door on her and the two droids. 

“Follow me,” Dooku gestured toward the end of the hallway but you froze in your tracks. Standing in gorgeously dark robes at the end of the hall was none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. You felt an overwhelming wave of something hopeful fill your chest. You wanted to run away from the Sith and you wanted to sprint toward him. 

Dooku seemed just as surprised as you felt. But in his surprise, you realized that this was your opportunity to act. Using the force, you pushed Dooku back against the wall and felt your lightsabers in his blazer pocket. But you also felt Ahsoka’s. You couldn’t grab all four sabers and you didn’t have time to think about it.

Dooku pushed you away from himself but you were faster than him. You dashed back to the room that Ahsoka was in. You threw open the door and used her saber to cut the restrains. You left her to free herself and hurried back to deal with the two Sith lords in the hallway. 

To your horror, Obi-Wan was waiting for you. He angrily launched a flurry of strikes towards you. Is he here to save you or kill you? You didn’t have a chance to ask him. Without a weapon, you were playing defense and he was merciless in his attack. 

Run, Obi-Wan’s voice rang in your head, you were supposed to run. Obi-Wan pushed you farther away from Dooku with his attacks. You understood then that Obi-Wan was trying to help you. Over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, you saw that Ahsoka had escaped the droids and was running towards Dooku. Even if you wanted to run, you couldn’t leave Ahsoka. Not to mention, Dooku still had your sabers. You tried to get around Obi-Wan. You needed to find some way to help Ahsoka. 

Obi-Wan pushed you around a corner, out of sight from Dooku and Ahsoka. You suddenly realized that he was steering you someplace. 

“What are you doing?” You halted, hoping that the Sith lord before you wouldn’t strike you down. Just as you hoped, Obi-Wan turned his lightsaber off. But not even a breath later, he shoved you against the wall. Not with the force. No, with his bare hands, Obi-Wan held you in place against the wall. He spoke in shallow breaths that were somewhere between fury and desperation. 

“Dooku will kill you,” He was so close his breath was mixing with your own. “If you don’t get out of here, he’ll… I’ll be forced to…” 

“Why don’t you let me go, and I’ll just kill you both instead?” You tried to break Obi-Wan’s grip on you but he held strong. 

“Stop joking around.” Obi pleaded.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t wear the right dress for surrendering.” You offered with an eye roll. Obi-Wan looked at your dress then and you saw the corners of his mouth turn up in the smallest smile.

“Darling, that dress fits you perfectly. Even if it didn’t, I’d find a million new dresses for you if you just come with me.” Obi-Wan’s eyes took a second to linger before looking back into your own. 

“Obi-Wan-” you began, but he cut you off.

“Come with me, willingly. Come with me and I can tell Dooku that I will train you. You and I will rule the galaxy.” Obi-Wan’s voice was softer now, pleading. 

“I can’t,” You began, but you wouldn’t let him know how much you wanted to, “I would rather be tortured as your Jedi captive than live as your pet.” 

“There’s no way out of this! You come with us or- you have to come with me or I will have to kill you,” Obi-Wan’s voice cracked. You looked at his face and you could feel the turmoil in him.

“You don’t have to kill me-” 

“I won’t let him hurt you!” Obi-Wan’s voice was strained and his words seemed to come out against his will, “I’ll kill you before I let him have you, y/n.” 

“You don’t have to kill me, Obi-Wan.” your voice was just a whisper and something in Obi-Wan’s expression softened. This man in front of you seemed so desperate and you couldn’t tell why. Before he could say anything else, you heard Ahsoka cry out from the other hallway. You need to get to the padowan.

Obi-Wan seemed to sense your apprehension. He registered Ahsoka for the first time and released you. He cursed under his breath and turned his attention away from you for the briefest moment. He ran back into the alley with Dooku and Ahsoka with you close on his heels. You watched as he used the force to pick up the padawan and hurled her towards the hallway’s opposite exit. You took that as an opportunity to attack Obi-Wan. You didn’t want to harm him, but you needed to get out of here. You used the force to push Obi-Wan away from you in an attempt to clear an escape route. He fell to the side but before you could run, you felt an overwhelming pressure around your throat. 

It was Dooku. Now that Ahsoka wasn’t here to distract him, he had turned his attention towards you and Obi-Wan. He tightened his invisible grip around your throat enough to make you gasp for air but not enough to fully suffocate you. You couldn’t help but admire how terribly effective it was. 

“Darth Dominus,” Dooku strolled toward the pair of you, “I am surprised to see you here.” Obi-Wan rose to his feet and straightened his robes. He ran a hand through his golden hair. 

“I heard you were going after Master y/n,” Obi-Wan said, “I wanted to help.” Obi-Wan looked over at you as you struggled to take in breath. His eyes were the best shade of gold and there was a warmth behind them that took your breath away more effectively than Dooku could imagine. 

“Be mindful of your thoughts, Dominus,” Dooku chided. He turned to you and slowly pulled you off your feet. The pressure around your throat constricted too much. You saw spots in the air and blackness began to close in on your vision. 

As he dropped you, the sound of Dooku laughing filled the hallway. Obi-Wan had dropped to a knee in front of his master. He must have said something to Dooku while you were fighting for breath. 

“So it seems, my apprentice, you are half of a dyad.” Dooku gave Obi-Wan a dark smile, “I’ve suspected it for some time now. I hear you calling to her in the dark nights when you should be sleeping.” You and Obi-Wan exchanged looks, but it was too late. The secret was out. 

“The two of you together will be the most powerful weapons in the whole galaxy,” Dooku kelt in front of you and grabbed your jaw. Obi-Wan quickly stood from his keeling position. 

“Relax, my apprentice. I’ll have you both alive and whole. Together we will help Darth Sideous-” Dooku was cut off by a cry from the hallway. Obi-Wan, Dooku and you turned to see Anakin and Ahsoka standing at the other end of the hallway. You smiled from ear to ear and knew that this was your chance. Just as you had done earlier for Ahsoka’s sabers, you reached into Dooku’s jacket pocket and retrieved your lightsabers. You ignited both and began an attack on Dooku. 

Anakin and Ahsoka rushed to your side. But Anakin froze as he locked eyes with Obi-Wan. The two men looked at one another. Master and apprentice was a bond that stayed with someone for life and you could see pain written on both of their faces. 

Even though Anakin was distracted, you were able to push Dooku far enough against a wall to make a run towards the exit. Ahsoka ran after you and Anakin began to follow after a silent nod at his old master. 

“Darth Dominus,” Dooku said loud enough for you to hear, “do you think she cares for you the same way you care for her?” Your blood turned to ice as you doubled back to see Dooku stand and turn on his apprentice. 

Before you could do anything, Dooku used force lightning on Obi-Wan. His scream filled the hall ways and before you knew what you were doing, you were running back to help him. You didn’t make it far though. Both Ahsoka and Anakin grabbed you and dragged you back. They were probably talking to you but you couldn’t hear them. The only sound you could hear was Obi-Wan’s screams. 

A weak voice pushed its way into your mind. Run was all it said. You knew Obi-Wan was telling you to go. You knew that Dooku was setting a trap, but you couldn’t just leave him. You hated yourself for it, but you couldn’t just leave. 

It didn’t matter. Anakin and Ahsoka dragged you away before you could do anything else. 

*******************************

“What were you thinking,” Ahsoka was astonished, “going back to help a sith lord?” You were aboard a small ship heading back to the Jedi temple. Anakin and Ahsoka had done a full medical test on you just to make sure you were okay before they began their own version of an interrogation. You barely had a chance to speak over the two. 

“You almost- I mean, I miss Obi-Wan, but the man I knew is dead,” Anakin seemed almost angry, “And what did Count Dooku mean, ‘does she care for you’?”

“Do you know what a dyad in the force is?” you finally asked. Anakin immediately went quiet and Ahsoka gasped. Ah, so they did know. 

“You’re not- no, no way,” Ahsoka said in a hushed voice. She didn’t believe it and to be honest, you didn’t want to believe it either. All you could do was nod. You had been able to keep it well hidden. No one knew except you and him but that didn’t mean you liked it. How had you wound up the other half of a Sith? His one weakness was you and yours was him. You could feel how much you hated him and yourself for it. So why couldn’t you stop thinking about him and wondering if he was okay? Why couldn’t he stop himself from reaching out to you through the force? And why couldn’t you ever bring yourself to respond? 

“I need to tell the Council when we get back,” was all you said. Anakin and Ahsoka stayed silent, the weight of this news sitting heavily on their shoulders. 

The faintest voice filled your mind then. You really did look good in that dress. For our next date, try blue.

Before you could stop yourself, you smiled. He was alive and he was okay. Well, okay enough to be snarky. And that was enough for you. You looked up and saw Anakin watching you. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” was all Anakin could say. 

 A/N: Hi! I really like Sith Obi-Wan. I’m tagging people who asked to be tagged and who also asked if there would be a follow up to my last fic. Sorry I didn’t answer you, but I figured a part two was better than an answer. Anyway, thank you for reading! @emmamikaelson95 @fandom-lover-4 @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @good-night-starlight 

[echos-lighthouse]

Ninjago fairy tale AU’s because I can’t sleep

Lloyd: little red riding hood

Zane: Snow White

Echo: Rapunzel

Jay: the little mermaid

Kai: beauty and the beast

Cole: Goldilocks and the three bears

Little green riding hood

This was going to be Kai but Lloyd fit better

Oh my gosh like the fandoms expectations for the green ninja

Lloyd was told by his Uncle Wu to go pick up some tea from Mystake

On his way back, he keeps running into Akita, who’s trying to warn him of danger, but Lloyd can’t understand her

The danger is Harumi is following him. Lloyd doesn’t see her

When Lloyd reaches the monastery, Harumi is there, pretending to tend the place

She says that she’ll take the tea to Wu, and Lloyd is give her the tea, when Akita comes and scares Harumi off

Akita sniffs out Wu and after she finds him, reveals herself as a human

Then they all live happily ever after (except Harumi) the end

Snow White

Zane is the son of the oh so famous Dr. Julien, the royal inventor, but the King (ice elemental from the elemental alliance) takes a liking to Zane, and adopts him when Dr. Julien dies

Now Zane is the prince woo

The King also takes a liking to the ice emperor, but that was a mistake, because he sneakily kills the king and takes the throne for himself

“Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the coldest of them all?”

It’s Zane

So IE tells Vex to go kill Zane, but Vex doesn’t actually know how to kill a nindroid so he just tells him to run into the forest

That’s where Zane meets the 7 dwarves

Hungry (Cole) Chatty (Jay) Confused (teen Wu) Flirty (Kai) Grumpy (Morro) Happy (Echo) and Sleepy (Lloyd)

Later he meets P.I.X.A.L. who immediately catches his heart

The IE finds out that Zane is still alive, and decides that since Vex didn’t help him, he was going to have to kill Zane himself

He disguises himself and goes into the forest

He gives Zane an apple that gives him a fatal virus, but Zane doesn’t realize it’s bad so he dies (wow shocker)

Then the IE falls off a cliff

The 7 dwarves hold a small funeral and invite P.I.X.A.L.

P.I.X.A.L. realizes that Zane isn’t dead dead, so she kisses him and he comes back to life

They go back to the kingdom and Zane is crowned king, and P.I.X.A.L is queen. The dwarves are advisors

Then they all live happily ever after the end

Echo

Dr. Julien didn’t want Zane to know he was building a little brother for him, because he was getting sick, and thought he was going to die soon, and he didn’t want Zane to be sad at his brother and his father not being around

So he struck up a deal with Samukai the Skeleton

Samukai would give him a private place to build Echo, and a potion to help him get better if Samukai got to keep Echo

Not having much of an option, Dr. Julien agreed, hoping that Echo and Zane would find each other on their own

Echo was built and Samukai kept him in a lighthouse

Dr. Julien tells Zane of his missing brother

Events of Snow White (seen above) ensue and now Zane is king yay

Morro is a wanted thief and while getting away, he runs into what he thinks is an abandoned lighthouse

Only to find a rusty nindroid

Echo explains he’s always wanted to see the real world but he never got to

Morro sneaks him out and they head to the kingdom to celebrate the king’s birthday

Echo realizes that he’s the king’s brother, and he a Morro go back to ask Samukai questions

Samukai does an exposition dump, and stabs Morro, before Morro simply blows him away

Morro dies but he’s a ghost so it’s okay

They return to the kingdom and Echo FINALLY meets Zane

Morro and Echo start dating

Then they all live happily ever after the end

The Little Mermaid

Jay was always fascinated with little toys he found from human shipwrecks

He would often go on and on about what he thought they were all used for

His father may have been King Cliff, but Jay was practically raised by Ed and Edna, who taught him about the human world

His mom is dead rip

He goes to the surface and finds Nya, who he immediately falls in love with

He stays hidden, but sings Nya a little song

The ship almost wrecks, but Jay saves Nya. She’s barely waking up to his song again before he swims off. She wants to know who that voice was

Jay finds a locket with Nya and her brother in it, and he wants to take it to Nya, so he tells his dad

His dad isn’t happy that Jay fell in love with a human

After another fight with his father, Jay goes off and gets lost, but is found by Nadakhan

Nadakhan says he can make Jay human, all he has to do is wish, and Jay gets 3 wishes total. After the third wish, Nadakhan gets something of Jay’s

Jay’s first wish is to be human, his second is that he won’t be able to speak because he wants to save his 3rd wish

Nadakhan grants Jay’s wishes and Jay goes to learn to become human. He gives the locket to Nya

Nya tells him about her brother’s romantic escapades (see below) but she also tells him that she has to get married soon or she might not be able to support her career in technological advancement

She has her sights (or rather ears) set on the lovely voice she heard that night, but Jay can’t tell her that that was him

They meet Nadakhan who has come to get Jay’s third wish, but Jay won’t use it

Nadakhan says that if Jay doesn’t use his third wish by sundown the next day, he was going to kill Nya

Nadakhan uses magic to sound like Jay, and Nya has to marry him (she’s under a spell)

The next day, Jay still hasn’t made his third wish by sundown and Nya starts dying

Jay wishes her to stay alive, and says even if Nadakhan takes his legs and he never gets to see Nya again, he’ll be fine, just as long as she lives

Nadakhan grants the wish, but the spell on Nya fades away and she falls in love with Jay

I don’t know what to do with Nadakhan, I think I’ll have him just take the boat and leave

Then they all live happily ever after the end

Flirty and the Beast

Kai is the biggest flirt in their village

Everyone knows he’s just a blacksmith who likes fighting, but men and women alike can’t get enough of his flirtatious exploits

Though he’s never actually known what real love is. He also wants to go out on an adventure, but the closest he’s ever gotten was books

One day, Nya wants to take her samurai x project to ninjago city, and Kai tells her to have fun

While Cryptor (literally couldn’t find a better villain please work with me) is trying to get Kai to date him, Kai receives a message from Nya that she’s in trouble

Kai runs off to try and save her and that’s when he finds out that Nya’s been taken prisoner by an anacondrai looking person

She introduces herself as Skylor, and she says she’ll let Nya go if Kai stays with her

Kai agrees and Nya goes back to their village to get help

Nya tells Cryptor about Kai, and he just laughs it off, because Nya’s a women, and all women are crazy, but he decides that if Nya is going crazy, he could hold it against Kai

But he can’t find Kai

Back at Skylor’s mansion castle, Kai gets curious and finds the staff making Skylor a snake

After she scares him, he runs into the woods and is attacked by wolves, but Skylor saves him

They star falling in love after that

Kai asks Skylor if he could visit Nya, and Skylor reluctantly lets him go for good, thinking he might like that most

Kai also tells them of Skylor, finally realizing he loves her, and Cryptor decides to get rid of her, because “if I can’t have Kai, no one can”

They fight

After stopping Cryptor (Nya was able to shut him off) Kai shucking finally kisses Skylor and she turns into a Normal human

Wanting to help Kai go on and adventure, Skylor takes him, and Nya on a trip to visit a beach (queue previous story)

then they live happily ever after the end

Noir locks

Cole never wanted to sing and dance, but he loved watching the lumberjacks

One day he followed them out to a part of the woods he was unfamiliar with

He explores a bit more and finds a house. There seems to be fresh food, he didn’t eat breakfast and was starving, so he sneaks in

There’s cake

After eating the vanilla cake instead of the chocolate or strawberry, Cole decides to take a nap. He woke up super early to catch the lumberjacks, and walking for so long made him exhausted

He finds the most luxurious bed he’s ever slept in

He’s woken up to a high pitched scream

He sees an ivory and gold colored bear and starts screaming too

Two more bears come up the stairs

After they all calm down, the bears introduced themselves as Vania, Seliel, and Kataru

Kataru says his sister is usually here as well but she was out doing something else

Cole asks what the heck is going on and why there were talking bears sleeping in beds and eating cake

Vania explains that her father cursed her and Seliel, and Kataru was just a bear formling

Cole decides to see if he can do anything about it, so Vania leads him to her fathers mine

Cole try’s to reason with Vangelis, but the king won’t have it

Vania explains that Cole needs to shave Vangelis’s beard because that’s where he stores his magic

Cole does, but Vania and Seliel are still bears

Vangelis later explains that his magic is actually from a magic skull and he just tells people that it’s in his beard because he wants to throw them off

Cole tries to steal the skull, and Vangelis catches him and turns Cole into a bear

After fighting Vangelis and ultimately getting the skull, Cole runs off

He takes the skull back to Kataru who destroys it

Vania, Cole and Seliel turn back

Not having any real magic anymore, and just being a horrible person, Vangelis is knocked off the throne and Vania takes over

Then they all live happily ever after the end

[champion-leon-imagines]

Chronicles of Galar - Chapter 2 Part 1: Your Past & a “kidnapping” case

I’ll split this chapter into two parts, because this chapter is kinda longish. I apologize for any dumb grammar mistakes, because this was especially hard to translate from my first language. Well, to make a short summary, this is a full-Leon featured chapter and a little fluff :3 Also a little insight about your past in Amila.

You kinda felt bad about lying to your new friends. But after Taiko had speculated almost too much about your feelings for the Galarian champion, you had to make sure that it didn't spark any more rumors.

Because you actually had something else in mind than going back to the hotel. Your brother was actually in Amila, along with President Rose, his assistant, and your father, the retired Professor of the Region of Amila. The reason you'd left the cafe so quickly was because of Leon. He really didn't looked very healthy and even if Raihan tried to talk it down, you were convinced that Leon was overwhelmed by being in the spotlight everywhere and being so in demand.

You ran around the corner of the cafe, where all the reporters had gathered around Leon and showered him with questions. You were close enough to overhear a little. “Unbeatable champion Leon, that was a masterpiece of a battle! Defeating a Gigantamax Toxtricity while Charizard was completely at a disadvantage! How did you manage that? "

"Ahahahaha ... ha .. As I already explained to your predecessor .. and those before that, Pokemon types are no guarantee for a win! Charizard and I knew we were at a disadvantage and we only eradicated this disadvantage with tactics! Nothing else. Toxtricity was very strong! ”Leon laughed and scratched the back of his head in disgrace. Who knows how often he was allowed to answer these and similar questions today ... "Champion Leon! Allow us to take a few more snapshots at the scene! Please lead us to the place where you defeated Toxtricity! ” one of the journalists demanded. You only shook your head slightly at the insolence and intrusiveness of these people. Leon also seemed to be in need of explanation. You could tell that this interview was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for him.

"So .. uhm .."

You had to step in. "Unfortunately that is impossible.", you began and stepped out of the alley. The reporters turned to you, puzzled. Leon recognized you and blinked slightly perplexed. "And why is it impossible?" One of the reporters wanted to know and eyed you suspiciously. “Because the Toxtricity are currently breeding and mating. That is exactly why the accident with the Gigantamax happened. The Toxtricity only protected its babies. Right, Champion Leon? ” You asked, winking at him. Leon looked at you completely taken aback before he cleared his throat. “U-Uhm yes, I accidentally fell into a Toxtricity nest and the mother must have thought I was an enemy! We- We should leave them alone! ”He nodded. Now that Leon confirmed it, the journalists believed you.

“Well, then of course that won't work. But we still have some questions for- "

"I have to disappoint you there too, gentlemen.", You quickly intervened directly and fought your way through the crowd until you reached Leon and grabbed his arm. "But our champion has a very important appointment that he is way too late because of you." “Who are you anyway?” One of the men finally wanted to know.

“I am the daughter of the CEO of Aerial Industries, Amila's largest commercial company. And the manager wants to speak to Leon immediately. And your uncooperative behavior will only get him into trouble. So please excuse us now. “, You spoke then and simply dragged Leon past the reporters and onlookers. "Hold on, wait. Aerial Industries is interested in Champion Leon? We'd like to know more about that! ”One of them shouted, but you were already starting to run with Leon. “I'm really sorry, gentlemen. But it's still confidential between Leon and Aerial! We are not authorized to give further information! ”You shouted before you let go of Leon at some point after you were sure that the men weren't following you.

"I thought your father was Amila's professor? You didn't say he's also the CEO of Aerial Industries? ”Leon mumbled, perplexed.

"He isn't." You smirked, which made Leon even more confused. "But I couldn't get you out of there any other way." "You have ..", Leon started in shock, pointing at you with his gloved hand. “I took you out of this interview on purpose, yes. Because they pushed you pretty hard. You've already explained everything and they just haven't left you alone. And you looked so burned out I just had to act. Sorry. ", You said and clasped your hands apologetically. Leon just stood there, speechless, blinking. Then he started to laugh sincerely and put his hands on his hips. "I see. So that's how it was. Well, thank you very much for saving me. ", He smiled and when you looked into his face, you only noticed happiness and serenity. "Then you are not mad that I interfered?", You asked. Only now did you realized that you had acted on an impulse and that you had already intervened before your thought process was over. "Of course not.", The purple-haired smirked and put his hand on your head. “To be honest, that really came in handy for me. Who knows how long that interview went without you .. ", he sighed exhausted and took off his cap to fan himself with it. "Mmm, it must be exhausting to have so much hustle and bustle around you all the time.", You lamented. Leon laughed lightly and nodded. "That's it. Sometimes ... I don't want to be a champion anymore. I would just like to have some time for myself again .. A .. Mhm yes a short break .. and if it's only one day .. Does that sound selfish of me? ", He asked you. “No, why should it be selfish? You work almost non-stop, you go all over Galar for press conferences, photo shoots, while you make sure that Galar stays in balance and protect people and Pokemon. You really deserve a day off. ",You nodded. Leon then smiled in relief. “Thank you for seeing it that way too. Unfortunately, I can't allow myself to do that. ", He sighed. "Why not?"

"Well, I don't know where to go .. Everyone in Galar knows me .. and .. I wouldn't have a quiet minute," Leon mumbled. "What if you just spend the day off somewhere else?" You suggested. "Somewhere else..?"

You didn't answered him at all and just grinned when you grabbed his hand again and ran to the nearest Corviknight taxi. "Ah, hello there, where do you want to go?"the taxi driver asked and fed two Corviknight some berries. "Do you fly overseas?", You wanted to know and Leon looked at you questioningly. “You mean in other regions? Well, we have special taxi couriers for that. Which region do you want to go to? ”He asked. "Alola."

"Heh? Alola? ”Leon asked surprised. You smiled and paid the taxi driver. "Yep. A short trip to a vacation paradise. Perfect for our little break. ", You giggled. "Break? So it's not your honeymoon, sweeties? ", The taxi driver smiled and saw the young couple blush and gesticulate with their hands in panic. "No, no, no .. We are not .. So .. Haha .. Come on, let's just get in.", You laughed embarrassed and dragged a blushing Leon behind you.

You took a seat in the large gondola that was carried by the birds and tried to forget the embarrassing situation as quickly as possible. As a result, there was initially a rather uncomfortable silence while the gondola with the Corviknights started moving and the approximately four-hour flight to Alola began. You thought about how you had spontaneously persuaded Leon to run away with you, even though you didn't know each other very well. At this realization you gripped your head with a sigh. This action caught the champion's attention, and he looked at you when he became slightly concerned about your strange behavior. "Are you okay ..?" He asked. TYou blinked before you realized that you had sighed audibly and waved embarrassedly. "Yes everything is fine. I ... just feel a little bold. After all, I almost kidnapped you, didn't I? ”You asked with a slight laugh. Leon smiled and crossed his arms. “You could almost call it that. But .. As I said, this little break is very convenient for me, that's why .. you will be forgiven that you 'kidnapped' me. ", He said and winked slightly. You smiled at his answer and relaxed again. Even if you didn't know each other as well as you thought, the mood between you had been quite exuberant and relaxed since you had met in the Slumbering Weald. It was a sympathy that was hard to explain. "I am happy about that. Now it's time to go to Alola. How long did the taxi driver think the flight would take? ”You asked. “About 4 hours. Maybe half an hour more, in case the Corviknight need a break and have to rest. ", The purple-haired man thought and crossed his arms. “It's still a long time. Now that we have to sit around here anyway .. how about if we use the time wisely? ”He asked. "With pleasure. What do you mean with 'use our time wisely'? A fight is hardly an option. “, You thought and looked around. There was really not much space in the gondola ..

"That's probably true .."Leon answered with a slight grin. “I was also more likely to think that it would be a good opportunity for us to find out more about each other. We already know a few things from the phone calls and other meetings, but .. there is still a lot that concerns me, ”he then admitted. "What are you concerned about? About me? “, You asked perplexed and pointed to yourself. Leon nodded. "Yes. For example, you said you were born in Amila. But you grew up in Sinnoh for several years of your life. You even started your journey as a trainer in Sinnoh. Why? Why not in Amila and why did you live in Sinnoh? Please forgive me if these questions are too private. Basically we're just acquaintances, ”he added quietly and scratched his bearded jaw. “Don't be silly, Leon. We are no longer acquaintances. We are friends. Well .. at least that's how I see it. ", You then spoke lightly. Leon then gave you an illegible look before smiling and showing you his signature grin. "Yes. I see it that way too. I was just a little worried about whether it was still too early to tell me something like that, "he added. You shook your head slightly at him. “But I want to tell you. I know that you can be trusted, champion. ", You started with a smile and then leaned back on your seat. "Well .. In our family, we were a bit short on domestic bliss for a very long time. But .. that is a bit longer story .. ", You sighed. “But we have time. You know, in Amila there was a trainer school academy in Sonnfelden. And every child had to go to this school when they turned 5. There you were trained and prepared to be a trainer for 5 years. That's where I met Cynthia too, you know. "

“Ah, the champion from Sinnoh? She was in the semifinals of last year's Champion Cup. That was a close match between Steven Stone and her. ", Leon remembered. You nodded. “She is not only the champion of Sinnoh, but also something like my big sister. But I'll get to that in a moment. In any case, she also attended the academy when she was younger, since her family was also from Amila, you know. And when I came to the academy, of course, she had been outside for a few years. But she stayed as a visiting professor and taught us a lot. For example, she helped me back when we got a loaned Pokemon in our second year. You get a Pokemon egg that you have to take care of and so that you get a feel for the Pokemon. During this time, Cynthia and I became very good friends, although of course she was much older than me. I just saw her as a big sister. Unfortunately, she had to go back to Sinnoh a year before I graduated, but she assured me that I could always go to her if I had worries .. And I made use of that faster than we both would have liked .. ”, you began and looked at your hands. Leon noticed the slight change in your mood. "What happened?" He asked, taking off his cap to place it on yours in a comforting gesture. You smiled and adjusted the cap before sighing deeply. "My parents were about to get divorced," you explained. “Although they could probably pull themselves together again to some extent. But suddenly they started arguing again and .. the evening before my final exam  .. I found out the real reason I as born. ", You said and bit your lip lightly. Although the events were in the past, it still seemed to be a burden somewhere. And now that you thought about it, Leon was the first person to tell all this to. “Our parents' marriage was about to end before I was born. The harmony had long been gone and my father took refuge every now and then in the arms of other women because my mother just didn't gve him what he needed anymore. Anyway, my mom decided to just stop taking the pill and get my dad to ... sleep with her one night when she was particularly fertile. The result came quickly and ... yes. And believe me, it's not a nice feeling to hear that your parents only got you to save their marriage. ", You sighed. "I understand that .. Above all, you were very young. That must have been a shock .. ", Leon said quietly and put his hand on your shoulder. You just nodded slightly. "That was. I just felt so misunderstood and of course confronted both of them with what they meant by that. And then ... I found out the true circumstances of their marriage and ... that I have an older brother in addition to Kaito. "

"Wait ... you didn't even know before that Mamoru was your brother? Did he grew up somewhere else too? ”Leon sounded confused, but at least one could understand that. You smiled sadly. “Well, Mamoru had drawn an even worse fate with these people than I did. Or it was more of a benefit to him who knows. Anyway .. after my brother was born, there was an attack from a wild Gengar in Sonnfelden. There was an university too, where father studied archeology and mother studied medicine. They tried to stop the Gengar, but it got out of hand and used.. Dream Eater on my hypnotized mother. She lost her memories ... of her entire life because of this. Her husband and son. Then father decided to get my brother to his brother, our uncle Brian, in Bad Lavastadt, Hoenn. They wanted to get him back when the therapies made Mother able to remember and feel better. But .. after seeing how happy my brother was with Uncle Brian and his wife, they no longer had the heart to do it. Since then, the harmony between our parents had diverged. They barely had anything to say to each other, they also no longer exchanged loving gestures and gradually the marriage of the two broke up more and more, until my father finally thought of a divorce .. ", You mumbled. "... and to avoid the divorce, your mother thought, a child would somehow save the marriage or keep them together?" Leon asked and squeezed your shoulder slightly affectionate in an attempt to give you further comfort. "Yes. That was the ulterior motive of my conception. And somehow they made me feel that quite often, but I never thought anything about it .. Until I found out why I was born .. "

"What happened after that?"

“The relationship with my parents was down. And I hadn't passed the final exam either, precisely because my nerves were so shaky and the whole situation at home just finished me off. I just had to get out of there. That was the only thing I could think of. Then I remembered what Cynthia had said to me before she left .. That she would always have her arms open for me and that I could always come to her .. Just .. how should I travel to Sinnoh as a 9 year old child? … Father's Alakazam .. “, you then began. “Father's Alakazam can read the minds of us humans. And if you imagine a place very strongly and your wish is big enough ... then the powerful teleport from Alakazam will manage to transport you there. And you can surely guess who I was thinking of, right? ", "Cynthia?"

You nodded. “You should have seen her puzzled face when I suddenly appeared in front of her. I told her everything and afterwards she took me to her grandmother in Celestic Town. So that's how it started, that's why I went to Sinnoh. That's why I started my career as a trainer there, and that's why Cynthia and Professor Carolina are like a family to me. " "And your brother? I mean .. You are in good contact with your parents again, don't you? Did Mamoru know about it too? I mean that the people who raised him weren't his real parents? ”Leon wanted to know. “I think Uncle Brian couldn't take it anymore and told him. At the time, however, I had been in Sinnoh for a long time. Mamoru and I didn't even knew each other until then. We met after I got home because Mother got sick. Very sick. But don't worry, she's fine. But he should tell you himself how it is with Mamoru and our parents. If I do that, he'll surely get angry. ", You laughed a little. Leon nodded and smiled. “Thank you for this private glimpse into your life and your family. I want to return this favor and ... that's why I'll tell you something about myself that nobody else knows. Not even my best friend, Raihan. ”Leon began. "Wait .. If even your best friend doesn't know about it, then you shouldn't tell anyone else ..", You mumbled, embarrassed. Leon laughed softly and waved. "But I want to show you that I trust you as much as you trust me."

“That's nice of you, but you don't need that. If I didn't knew that you trust me, I wouldn't have told you the story in the first place. ", You smiled. "Fine. But at some point I'll tell you whether you want to or not. ", Leon laughed and winked at you charmingly. "Thanks for the warning."