#Army Farewell

[semioticapocalypse]

Sam Hood. Soldier and dog. Departure of the 6th Division for the Middle East. Sydney. January, 1940.

I Am Collective Memories   •    Follow me, — says Visual Ratatosk

[vertigoartgore]

2019's Powers of X Vol.1 #1 new character variant cover by artist Dustin Weaver.

[guy-in-a-dress]

Happy 40th anniversary to the most devastating scene of all time

[abutterflyobsession]

I pull out so many random facts about the making of Lord of the Rings that people usually respond with, 'how do you even know that?!'

oh, friend.

my brother, a most pretentious lotr fan, snatched up the extended edition hot off the shelf and for weeks it was the only thing on the tv all day long. I've seen every commentary, every special feature . . . twice. maybe more. I didn't have a choice.

[andguesswhat]

Well, who is going to read this anyway, right?

Yet the background:

After Tim was in Paris at Fashion Week, I was in Berlin and I saw a young actor on stage there, twice, Tim's age, same height, same jawline ;) A great actor, full of energy and joy. Mmh.

I thought an encounter would be interesting. I had some trouble writing it, though, because the real Tim got in my way more than once and I didn't feel like dealing with him. But Jonas was batting his eyelashes in my head and said "pretty please" so I tried and tried until I finally found my Timmy again and now I finally finished it on the day I know for sure that I will leave fandom for good.

So that’s it then. My farewell. My legacy…

For @gatoenlaciudad

The Nature of the Night

*

Jonas pulls the wool cap over his head and is about to walk through the stage door when Mascha, the assistant director in charge of the evening, appears and stops him.

"Timotheé Chalamet wants to see you."

"What?" Jonas asks puzzled.

Mascha makes a motion with her arms as if she can't explain it either.

"I don't know but it really seems to be him. Checked it. Here," she pulls her phone out of her pocket, unlocks the screen and holds it under his nose. Jonas sees the image gallery with pictures of Timotheé Chalamet, they are rather private photos, respectively not images from his movies or from the red carpet. On these photos the actor is often wearing a cap and loose clothes.

"Looks exactly like him, talks like him, says his name is Timmy and would like to meet you. He sits in the canteen."

Jonas is still a bit confused when he aborts his intention to go out of the stage door and goes after Mascha in the direction of the canteen. A Hollywood actor had been in the audience? And he wants to meet him?

In the meantime, Mascha babbles on that she had already heard that Hollywood actors are always smaller in real life than they appear on the big screen, or no, in this case not smaller, but somehow thinner, inconspicuous, normal, unspectacular. Although he had been really nice, and also pretty pretty. So maybe he was special after all. She smiles at him.

Jonas doesn't even get a chance to think about what he should make of all this, because he's suddenly already standing in the cafeteria and walking towards the table where the figure in baggy clothes, leather jacket and a cap is sitting. The young man looks up and yes, it is definitely Timotheé Chalamet, smiling at him. Reaching out his hand.

"Hi Jonas," he pronounces the name in English, "thanks for stopping by. I'm Tim."

Jonas takes the other man’s hand and says rather automatically than consciously, “Hi.”

The Hollywood actor turns to Mascha and his smile is getting almost conspiratorial. "And thank you very much for helping me with this." Mascha blushes.

Well, he is definitely nice, Jonas thinks. Friendly. But he seems kind of jaded, tired, stressed. Especially his smile. Like he is sad or something.

While Mascha leaves, Chalamet motions Jonas to sit down, so he sits down opposite him. And while he wonders what he should actually say, Chalamet… Timothée… Tim… the Hollywood actor takes over.

"Sorry to bother you. I saw the play, and I really, really loved it. I was here yesterday too, watched the Kafka piece. Loved that also. Very funny. And your performance was awesome."

"Thanks." Jonas says in some kind of delirium because this still feels kind of unreal. What was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to ask something? For example, what someone like Timothée Chalamet is actually doing here? Yeah why not. "How come that you... ?" Yes, what actually? "...that you came here?" Well that sounded somehow stupid, but it shows his whole confusion.

"I was just in Paris…,” the actor begins to explain. “I met someone who told me that they have surtitles in the theater here in Berlin and I got curious. Wanted to see something new. So I decided to come here. I don't know if you know, Hollywood actors are on strike right now... So I have time... And I'm really glad I came here. It was very inspiring."

A notion that this here is real sinks in and Jonas has to smile. A bit proudly. Kind of shyly. Probably quite stupidly, too, but it's not every day that a Hollywood actor compliments him.

He knows Chalamet, has seen a few films with him. Call me by your name... Dune... Beautiful Boy... And he was in this Wes Anderson movie, too, wasn’t he? When Jonas thinks about it, he's seen quite a few movies with him.

Sure, he's interested in what other actors his age do and he thinks Timothée is a good one. He always liked his vulnerability.

"That is very nice of you to say, thanks," he says humbly and Timothée smiles back at him.

"You want a drink, too?" Timothée lifts the beer bottle that's in front of him.

Jonas nods, turns to Karim, the bar keeper behind the counter, and gestures for him to bring him a beer.

And then a conversation begins. It's quick. Faster than he would have thought. Timothée asks him a lot, about the play, about him as an actor, but also a few private things. Jonas talks and tells, getting more and more comfortable with the situation with every minute passing by.

Timothée all the while is looking at him attentively.

Still sad, though, Jonas can't help thinking, he looks really sad to him, the sadness giving him a somehow distant and absent aura.

Tired, Jonas reassures himself, he is probably just tired.

Although Timothée keeps asking him questions, it's not a questioning session. And although Jonas realizes that Timothée is very cautious when he speaks about himself, probably because he can’t talk about personal stuff, it's a very pleasant conversation.

Soon `Timothée´ changes in Jonas’ mind to `Tim´.

"Have you been here before?" Jonas asks him. “In Berlin?”

"Yeah, twice, actually. At the film festival. The Berlinale."

"Oh! When have you been there? I've been there twice, too. I mean, I’ve been here with two films I was in."

"Wow, really? Cool!” Tim looks at him appreciatively for a second before he continues. “I was there in 2017, with Call Me by Your Name.” He smiles and adds with a soft voice. “I have very fond memories of that trip."

"Ah okay, then we missed each other by a year.” Jonas realizes. “I was there the first time in 2018. What about the second time?"

"That was 2015. But man, this feels like it's from another lifetime."

Tim pulls out his phone and googles himself plus 'Berlinale 2015'. "Man, look at that!"

Again, Jonas has a cell phone under his nose, this time he sees a really young-looking Timothée Chalamet, a boy, who he would not immediately associate with the man in front of him. He smirks.

"Wow."

"Yeah, I look 10!" Almost a little embarrassed, Tim puts the phone away again. "Youth! When was the second time you were there?"

"In 2019 with 'the Golden Glove'."

This time Jonas pulls out his phone, googles 'Der goldene Handschuh' and shows Tim a picture of him with the heavy makeup that turned him into the serial killer Honka.

"That's you? Wow. What's the movie about? How did you get this role?” And before Jonas can answer, Tim adds with a smirk and a drawl, “Did they choose the prettiest guy to make him the ugliest?"

For a second Jonas just looks at Tim. If you say something like that, you have to be able to endure to wait a second for the answer.

Tim’s smile becomes even more coquette, he blinks.

Then Jonas answers, ignoring the last question and their conversation goes on. And on.

They talk about movies, theater, and everything that goes with it. It flows, in each other, around each other. It’s fun.

To a certain extent Jonas has the feeling that tiredness or sadness are falling off Tim. His remarks become more and more extravagant, his enthusiasm bigger and bigger, the "Noooo!"s and the "Yeeeesss!"s longer and longer, the "Man!"s and "Exactly!"s more and more emphasized.

"That's what I'm always saying!" And Jonas is the last one who can't keep up, even if one volume quieter.

They don't even notice that everybody else has already left until Karim comes up to them. "I'm really sorry to interrupt but we're closing now."

Again, for a second, Jonas just looks at Tim, because he can't even gauge what this means for them now, for their situation.

"Can we go somewhere else?" Tim asks. And Jonas starts breathing again, even if he did not know that he had held his breath.

"Maybe somewhere not that crowded?” Tim continues. “Somewhere where no one recognizes me?"

And then he adds what Jonas has been thinking all along "I just don't want this to end."

If it weren't kind of weird, Jonas would have thought Tim sounded almost pleading. Even weirder, that he just almost had the feeling that Tim wants something from him.

Probably the alcohol making his mind go wild. Also: just so typical for actors, always all in with the possibilities. But Jonas enjoys the encounter way too much to let it end.

"Yeah, sure," says Jonas, even though he really doesn't know where to go with him. Berlin is always crowded.

He then doesn't know why he says that, probably he can also blame that on the alcohol or simply because that had been his plan for tonight before Mascha stopped him and put him in this situation with this man here, or maybe just as a test, but he says, "We could also go to my flat. Nobody to recognize you there … but a fly on the wall or something. I mean, if you don't mind."

"No, no, I'd love to. Honestly, that's the safest for me. And I’d love to meet your flies."

A smirk.

So much for that.

Tim pays, apparently tipping neatly, as wide-eyed as Markus looks and they head out the door, immediately zipping up their jackets. Berlin is cold.

"Can we walk?"

"Yeah sure, it's not that far. I just have to unlock my bike over there," Jonas points to his bike on the lamppost and walks towards it.

"Okay, I just need to sort something out," Tim says, walking towards a black car parked across the street. Jonas sees out of the corner of his eye that he opens the door and speaks to the person in the car.

Tim's whole body suddenly tenses, his voice sounds angry and becomes loud.

Jonas can't understand everything, but there are a lot of annoyed No's in it. "No, I'm not going to do that!" At some point Tim takes some papers reluctantly, tucks them annoyed between his jacket and hoodie, slams the car door shut and comes back toward Jonas, who is waiting for him with his bike at the lamppost.

Tim's face is incensed.

"Sorry..."

That's all he says.

And Jonas doesn't ask either.

They start walking, Jonas pushing his bike.

When Jonas suddenly notices that the car is slowly following them.

A strange feeling. Like from a bad movie or something.

Tim looks behind, makes a frustrated sound and then starts to talk anyway.

"You know, it's just so annoying! I can’t do anything! Not a fucking thing! … My assistant is now driving after us because he wants your address...I'm on a work trip, so everything has to be under control” Tim wiggles his hands overly dramatic, “at all times!” He sighs. “I'm sorry. It's just incredibly embarrassing."

"I can give you the address, no problem," Jonas says unconcerned.

"But I don't want to give it to him."

Jonas nods. He understands. It's a matter of principle.

He feels sorry for Tim. Sure who doesn’t know the stories about how badly Hollywood actors are really treated. But then you see the movies, beautiful and laughing stars on red carpets and read about all the luxury mansions.

If it's that bad, they should just stop, make smaller films, less limelight. Right?

But what would he do when pretending is gradual, when there's always a little bit more what you're doing that you wouldn't do if you weren't in Hollywood, and you don’t realize it because everybody around you just does the same?

Too often he's read some lurid headline or been told about actors on self-destructive downward paths from whom he didn't expect it.

He envies no one in Hollywood. But if he were asked to be in a Hollywood movie, he wouldn't say no either, would he?

He thinks about whether he should suggest the idea he has on his mind right now and decides without further ado, yes, he should. He gets on his bike and says, "Come on, get on the back, we shake them off."

Tim's eyes get big, and before the grin on his face has fully unfolded, he's already jumped on the back of Jonas' bike, holding onto his hips, and Jonas pedals off. A sharp turn to the right, then into the park. Narrow paths, trees and bushes to the right and left. They can't follow them there.

Tim behind him whoops with joy. It sounds contagious. Jonas grins contentedly to himself, his heart beating, the adrenaline still rushing through his veins.

He loves situations like that.

“I would have loved to see their faces, man,” Tim laughs behind him.

In front of his apartment they get off the bike and Jonas brings it into the backyard.

He lives in an old apartment building with high ceilings and creaking floors on the 3rd floor. He loves his apartment and is also quite proud of it.

The fact that he can now show his apartment to Tim, Timothée Chalamet, seems a bit surreal to him.

But reality quickly catches up with him: Beautiful apartment or not, he had forgotten how many things were lying around and how untidy it was.

"Sorry," he mumbles embarrassed and gathers a few clothes to quickly throw them onto the bed.

"No worries," Tim laughs, "you don't have to clean up for me. I always leave my stuff lying around too, much to the chagrin of... others."

It was just a little pause but there definitely had been something Tim hadn't been allowed to say. A drop of sadness. For a second there is this life again that he is crammed into.

"Another beer? Or would you prefer something else?" Jonas asks and ignores the melancholy, even though the contrast fascinates him.

"What else have you got? I have to admit, although the German beer tastes more interesting than the American, I'm not that much of a beer guy."

Jonas thinks about the visit from his best friend from school last weekend.

"Gin? I have some Gin and sweet soda left."

Tim nods. "Perfect, I'll take that."

While Jonas goes to the fridge and prepares the drinks, Tim takes a look around the apartment.

Everything in his apartment merges into one another. Large rooms with large passageways. Lots of painted walls, lots of posters, lots of books, lots of photos, lots of nice things to look at, as Jonas thinks.

"A nice apartment that you have."

"Thanks."

Jonas sees Tim's gaze fall on the colorful fetish boots with extra high heels and platform soles lying next to the bathroom. Just like the ones Jonas wore in a scene on stage tonight.

"Did you have to practice?" Tim asks, amused.

"Yes, I asked our costume designer for an extra pair. We haven't performed the play for quite some time, I didn't know if I could still do it."

Tim laughs. "You could. You rocked it!"

Jonas grins and holds the drink out to Tim.

They sit down at the kitchen table and Tim takes out the paper that was stuck between his leather jacket and hoodie, puts it on the table, then takes off his leather jacket and lays it over the paper. He does not address it.

Jonas can guess what it is, though. Probably some kind of contract that he can't say what's happening tonight. Or what is going to happen.

"Man, this place is really nice,” Tim repeats. “Very cozy."

"Thank you."

They toast.

"Have you always lived in Berlin?"

And with that, their conversation continues.

Jonas enjoys it immensely.

At some point, Tim talks about his current impressions of Berlin. He apparently just rode the subway for a while yesterday. "It's a bit like riding the subway in New York. You see so many different people. All their styles. It's amazing. It's really inspiring. Especially the attitude with which some people wear their deliberate ugliness. There was one guy who shaved off his hair here and here," Tim points to his head, "then wore it long here and here, and wore it long here, then he wore huge glasses, a mustache, an absolutely ugly jacket, everything was ugly, nothing fitted together, so that in the end everything fitted together. Yet he knew he was the coolest of them all. And he was right!"

Jonas smiles and looks at Tim's perfect curls and his perfect appearance. "So, do you want a hairstyle like that now?"

"No, but I would like to know where one gets the idea to walk around like that in the first place! If you spend too long in L.A., you forget."

Jonas nods. The rich and the beautiful. Where optimized beauty and pleasantness are the most important commodities. That has always bored him.

Tim is beautiful, too, but what makes him interesting is the longing he radiates. This longing for whatever. And the infectious, liberating laugh that Jonas has just heard from him on the bike.

Jonas looks at their empty glasses.

"Another one?"

"Yes, I’d love to," and after a moment's hesitation, Tim adds, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but do you have anything to smoke?"

Again, Jonas thinks about his friend's visit. Because yes, he has. Ben had brought some weed and there's still some left. "Wait, I'll get it. By the way, you can sit on the sofa if you want. It's more comfortable."

Tim doesn't need to be told twice, goes to the sofa and sits down on it. "Oh man, it's so cozy, I don't know if I'll ever get up here again."

"That's the whole point," says Jonas with a grin, rummages the tin of weed off the packed shelf, puts it in his pocket, fills up the two glasses and joins Tim on the sofa.

His sofa corner is very cozy, a huge soft sofa, with huge soft cushions, a huge cuddly flokati rug, surrounded by books, books and more books, lots of records and his guitars. Jonas thinks it's a great place to curl up in, especially during the cold season.

He gives Tim his drink, puts his on the side table and while Tim talks, he starts rolling the joint.

It's nice to notice that Tim is now talking more about himself and seems more and more relaxed. Jonas can well imagine that he's probably enjoying getting out of his rut and forgetting the rest of his life for a moment. Maybe not the rest, but his life as a Hollywood star with all its stressful obligations. Simply escaping, breaking free.

"I was so impressed yesterday, by your colleague," says Tim. "The way he squeezed through the rows naked. With his figure, with his..., I mean, he really didn't have the biggest one, right!?"

In yesterday's production, Jonas' tall, corpulent colleague wears only a tie and shoes for quite some time and squeezes his way through the packed rows to the amusement of the audience.

Jonas lights the joint, takes a drag and hands it to Tim. "Does that mean you wouldn't have dared it if you were him?"

"I would, yes , but I mean... When you look at yourself, for example, I mean, then it’s no problem to say, of course, I can do it, you know, ...well endowed like you are," Tim continues, laughing impishly and taking a drag on the joint.

Yes, Jonas is also naked for quite some time in this production and yes, this time too, Jonas can't really tell how serious Tim's come-on is, so he decides to be a bit bold.

"And that means you would have only dared to do it because you're well endowed yourself?" He puts on a playful arrogant face, "Just like me."

"What? No, well... yes. I mean… Man! How the hell did we get here?" Tim laughs out loud, but is then back in full explanation mode to make a point. "I mean, that's what it's all about, isn’t it? It's all about overcoming. It's great when you get the chance to try it out. As an actor."

Jonas nods and takes the joint that Tim holds out to him again. "Yes, definitely, it's great when you have to overcome yourself because it’s your fucking job, yeah."

"And I just would think that your colleague needs more overcoming than someone like you. Well, anyway, I don't think I've ever seen so much nudity on stage for so long."

Jonas laughs, takes a drag on the joint and hands it back to Tim. "Welcome to German theater."

"Really? I need to come here more often," jokes Tim before he gets serious again. "It was really well used though. The contrast. Him presenting his nudity so confidently and forcing it on everyone and your nudity, on the other hand, being so vulnerable. That was great."

Another compliment. "Thank you."

Tim takes another drag. "Today, on the other hand..." He looks at Jonas with a challenging grin, "Today, on the other hand, you looked quite sexy."

Okay, Tim is definitely flirting now, no mistake in that. Jonas also notices how much Tim's voice has changed. Whereas at the beginning it was a bit put on, very keen to sound serious and grown-up, now it's suddenly very soft...

It almost seems as if Tim forms words differently now. As if each word first glides gently over Tim's tongue and is then brushed velvety by his lips.

It is definitely too early for the weed to hit, so this is real.

And although Jonas is aware that Tim probably knows what he's doing, he thinks it’s not artificial at all, it's completely genuine and pure. Purely erotic.

"When you ripped that one costume off your body on stage today," Tim says, again very softly, and now it seems as if the words are also being touched by Tim's front teeth, "I thought how much I would like to lick that belly."

Jonas gnaws on his lower lip and just looks at Tim. He is completely fascinated and finds the moment so beautiful that he doesn't want to interrupt.

"Sorry, for saying that," Tim says even more gently, his eyelids fluttering down apologetically.

"No, no," Jonas quickly puts in, "I didn't mean... I wasn't..." And then finally says the most important thing, "I don't mind you saying that. I was just… "

"Okay, good." Tim chuckles softly with relief, his eyes are back on Jonas. "Because sometimes I say things I shouldn't say. I definitely don't want you to... But I feel really comfortable here with you. And I had the feeling... I don't know..."

Lips, teeth, tongue. Jonas wonders if you can somehow absorb these words that come out of Tim's mouth and taste them.

Tim puts the extinguished joint in the ashtray on the sofa table and moistens his lips with his tongue.

Bites his lower lip with his teeth and then asks:

"Can I kiss you?"

"Ja klar," Jonas slips out in German, full of approval.

Tim's lips curl into a grin and he leans towards Jonas, his lips already very close to his. "That's a yes, right?"

Jonas can taste the words, they taste sweet and smell of weed. He grins back. "Yes."

And then they kiss. Gently.

When Tim buries his hands in his hair, he himself buries his hands in Tim's curls.

It feels good, very nice.

An exchange of tenderness.

How can you not find that beautiful?

Jonas has never really fallen in love with a man.

But he likes to make out with one or sleep with him.

Was there actually a term for this? Probably. But he doesn't want to specify it anyway, he doesn't really want to rule out the possibility that he might fall in love with a man after all some day.

But mostly he likes kissing men because it's not so emotionally charged for him. It feels more equal. Of course, it always depends on the woman or the man and you can't generalize, but often he's much more relaxed when he's making out with men. Because then he never feels like he has to deliver. It's all about the feeling, the need for closeness and tenderness, the kissing.

Their hands run over each other's bodies and, as is the case when you make out for some time, desire slowly sets in. He notices it on himself, he can see it in Tim's eyes when he looks at him, his lips moist and half-open.

Jonas is ready. He will take everything he can get from Tim and when Tim whispers in his ear. "I wanna fuck you,” Jonas closes his eyes for a second and lets the pleasurable shiver that these words trigger flow through his body.

"But only if you want to. We don't have to do this," Tim adds quietly as he kisses Jonas' neck, pressing his hard cock against Jonas' hips, his hands feeling his body.

It's been a while since Jonas has slept with a man in this way. But he likes the feeling of being taken and actually has it far too rarely.

"I just need to go to the bathroom," he says shyly between all the snogging.

"Yeah, sure..." Tim slowly lets go of him, his eyes clouded with desire.

A little embarrassed, Jonas heaves himself up from the sofa, but Tim stops him by the wrist. He looks at him before hesitantly saying: "There's someone. But I'm not cheating. I just want you to know that. So if you don't want to go on, that's totally fine, okay?"

Jonas nods, responds a quiet “Okay...” and goes into the bathroom.

It doesn't change anything for him. This is a special night that will never happen like this again. He knows he won't regret anything.

When he returns, Tim is flipping through a book that he has taken down from the shelf.

It's ‘Jagannath’ by Karin Tidbeck.

Tim looks up to him. "Sounds interesting."

"Yeah, it's really cool. Completely weird stories but beautiful, a man falling in love with a zeppelin for example, fantastic and realistic at the same time... You'd like it."

“I have to remember that.” Tim puts the book aside, grabs Jonah's arm and pulls him onto the sofa so that he buries him underneath him. "But now I wanna fuck you. "

Jonas' cock twitches in response.

"What's that in German?"

"Ich will dich ficken."

"Isch will disch feeken?"

"Ja, fick mich."

They laugh, pull their hoodies over their heads so that their hair is sticking out in all directions and intertwine with each other.

Jonas can't believe who he has in front of him. It's not about the famous actor, it's about the young man, he didn’t know a few hours ago, who came to him and almost sought refuge with him. A small miracle of lucky coincidences that led them here.

On a night like this, he wants to take everything he can get...

And then Tim murmurs into his ear:

"I'm gonna fuck you so hard, Jonas. So hard that you will still feel me tomorrow on stage..."

Jonas gasps involuntary.

God, where did that come from? But he can't say he minds.

They continue kissing, grabbing each other between their legs.

Tim's cock is anything but small, but it doesn't scare Jonas, the anticipation of it only makes him hornier. And Tim's determined but sweet, caring nature removes any doubts that he might have.

Jonas lets himself go. He is amazed at how Tim suddenly appears. So confident. He takes responsibility, and that's extremely sexy to see.

Tim pushes Jonas' T-shirt up.

"Now I can finally lick your belly. It's so lick-worthy" he breathes and then does just that. Licks Jonas' lower belly and Jonas tries to get his breathing under control. It's torture, the way Tim lets his tongue glide slowly over his skin and grins at him with amusement.

At some point Jonas can't take it any longer, tugs at Tim's shirt and finally they tear the rest of their clothes off. Jonas' gaze falls on the chain around Tim's neck. It's not a normal necklace. He wouldn't know the difference from an imitation, but he knows Tim wouldn't wear one. The stones are real. And Jonas never thought he would be so impressed by it.

They are both naked now, except for Tim's expensive necklace, and Jonas lets Tim spoil him, lets him take him, lets him after some extremely sensual and erotic adjustment fuck him.

It feels good. Tim is on top of him, ramming his cock into Jonas, while jerking him off with his hand. It's hot. Jonas is breathing heavily, biting his lips, he closes his eyes and stretches his head back in pleasure.

They are both in a frenzy, changing positions, seeking ecstasy, seeking climax. And Tim guides him, more than he had expected.

"Don't come yet," Tim finally gasps breathlessly and then he thrusts into him from behind a few times, moaning deeply and loudly, and comes.

Stagnation for a second while Jonas' cock wants to explode, a feeling of loss when Tim pulls out of him but before he can mourn it, Tim's hands are all over his body.

"I make this good for you, too, baby, I promise. Lay on your back."

Jonas has to laugh breathlessly. As if that wasn't already good. "This was already awesome you know," he gasps and lies down on his back.

Besides, no one has ever called him baby before.

Tim just grins, leans over his cock and takes it unceremoniously in his mouth.

God.

He looks at him so devotedly that Jonas bites his lips with a moan.

Fuck, this is hot. He breathes heavily, his belly rises and falls, it doesn't take long, wet and hot tongue, sweet lips giving pressure, Tim’s gaze so fucking devoted, then suddenly two fingers up his ass, finding his sensitive spot, rubbing it... He closes his eyes and finally comes - "Fuck!" - in Tim's mouth.

Hissing. Just hissing.

In his ears, in his body, in his brain.

Dazed, Jonas sees Tim sit up and wipe his mouth.

Slowly the buzz subsides, the world around him becomes reality again.

Tim drops onto the sofa next to him, buries his nose under Jonas' shoulder and cuddles up to him, grinning almost shyly.

"Was it good for you?"

What a question! "Yeah..." Deepest, most exhausted conviction.

Tim smiles contentedly.

When Jonah's breathing has gradually calmed down again, he turns to him.

Looks at the famous face. Looks at it closely. Sees the small scar on his cheek.

Yes, of course, this was desire and sex. But in front of him is someone who has sought unprejudiced closeness above all. The kind you just need sometimes. And Jonas gladly gave it to him.

The hurdle of taking it and giving it is smaller among them actors. Due to their profession they are used to quick closeness and the possible quick distance afterwards.

That's why Jonas isn't fooling himself about this night.

Lost in thought, he runs his fingers over Tim's jawline.

"Have you noticed that our jawlines look very similar?"

Tim laughs. "Yes, I have! We should take photos and put them on top of each other to see if they fit or something."

"And do you also sometimes think that it’s weird that in some photos you look completely normal and then sometimes you look like you've swallowed … I don’t know… a Christmas gift?"

Tim chuckles even harder, "Yes. A good friend of mine sometimes teases me about it, asking if I ate an anchor before the photo shoot or things like that."

Jonas nods approvingly. It fits.

"They once even retouched my bones in a photo for a magazine," Tim continues. "Man, I was mad!"

Tim reaches for his sweatpants, pulls his cell phone out and lies back down next to Jonas. He googles himself again and shows Jonas the relevant photos.

"Wow, that looks strange. Why did they do that?"

Tim shrugs his shoulders. "Don't ask me!"

He turns on the camera. "So, let’s take a photo of our jawlines.”

Jonas and he appear on the display. With their jawlines. “I think it also has a lot to do with the angle and the light."

They both start turning their heads, jutting their chins forward and doing whatever else they can think of, laughing, looking serious, looking silly while Tim is taking photos.

Afterwards they are checking the results. There are terrible photos, there are terribly silly photos, there are beautiful photos.

For a second, Jonas would like to have them himself, but he knows he doesn't even have to ask for them.

“I'll show them to a friend later. I know he'll love them," Tim says softly while they keep watching.

Jonas wonders if this is the same friend with the anchor comment when suddenly a call comes in. Tim makes a short sound "shoot!", hastily pushes the button and turns away from Jonas.

Jonas didn't want to lurk, but he was looking at the display anyway, so he saw that there was no name on the display, just a nail emoji and an exclamation mark, and the photo wasn't recognizable to Jonas either.

"Hey, just wanted to check how you're doing," Jonas hears a man's dark, soft voice coming from the other side of the phone before Tim quickly turns down the volume.

"Hey, I'm good. I'm good." Tim's voice is very soft and very familiar, Jonas can even hear that he is grinning happily, "I'll call you later, okay? I'm in the middle of something."

Jonas can't hear the other voice properly now, but it sounds like the man is saying something teasing like "Oh, in the middle of something? Okay, then do everything I would do."

Tim chuckles softly. "You know, actually I was just talking about you. I've got some photos I'll send you later." Jonas is completely fascinated that Tim's voice sounds so different now. So incredibly familiar, so at home.

"Oooh, can't waihhht!" The man's voice, on the other hand, is lovingly teasing and clearly too loud for Jonas not to hear it.

"No, not photos like that," protests Tim, again laughing. "You'll see."

The other man says something else, quieter now, so that Jonas doesn’t understand it and Tim softly responses, "Yeah, later."

A small, subtle smile plays around Tim's lips for a second as he hangs up and turns back to Jonas.

"The friend I was talking about..."

Jonas nods. The friend...

Tim lies down next to him again. They both look up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

Jonas has never had an open relationship, doesn't know if he could have one, but he can imagine that sometimes it's almost necessary to keep a relationship healthy when there are certain obstacles like distance or time or whatever. To give this space is the real love story of it, he thinks.

Still, Jonas is interested in something.

"When did you decide you wanted to sleep with me?"

Tim thinks for a second.

"I don’t know… I got interested in you when I saw you in Kafka, I thought you were sexy when you ripped off your clothes tonight in that play, I wanted to kiss you, when I asked you if I could kiss you, I wanted to fuck you when I asked you if I could fuck you. Did it feel to you, like I planned it?"

"No, no. But you never know what kind of good actor you have in front of you."

Tim laughs out loud. "I'm such a bad actor in real life. If you only knew…” he says, sounding quite miserable. “In any case, I don't fly from city to city and snack on pretty actors, if that's what you mean."

Jonas smiles. "No, that's not what I meant."

He thinks to himself that he wanted to sleep with Tim when he dropped all his covers, figuratively speaking. This peeling off of the famous actor to reveal his inner self is what Jonas got stuck on.

Tim turns himself to Jonas and looks at Jonas seriously and gently. "I didn't plan this today, but I can't say I didn't take every opportunity that came my way. Something pulled me in your direction. It was fun, it was liberating, it was beautiful."

Jonas nods. "Yeah, I loved it, too."

“You know, for me it’s complicated to have that,” Tim reflects and lays down again to look at the ceiling. “I don’t want to complain but sometimes everything is so difficult when I go outside… outside of my bubble, you know. Like I’m an interfering body, a disruptive factor. So I stay in my bubble… But people change, friendships change… So sometimes you don’t see things, you don’t realize things, I mean, these are my people, right?”

Tim is now completely in his head, talking more to himself than to Jonas. “You trust them, you’ve trusted them for years! But there are moments you feel that you just adjusted, you adjust your respect, your love for them... All those connections float like ice floes in the sea after a ship has passed through, still together but tilted. They actually no longer fit together, but they are still attached. And you can't change that just because you think things should be different... These ice floes are connected … and there are so many… and you’re frozen to them... So you adjust."

Jonas doesn't really understand what Tim is saying but he feels a big confusion. He feels sorry for him.

Tim turns to Jonas, his gaze deep as the ocean.

"You know, I envied you there on stage so much. Having so much fun. Looking so carefree."

The sentence echoes a little in the room before Jonas manages to reply, he even needs to clear his throat a little.

"Envy is a good reason to change something, isn't it?"

Tim just laughs bitterly.

Jonas feels bad, he shouldn’t have said that. "Sorry... that was probably very naive, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about my simple, boring life... and how often a feeling like that has always been a reason for change. For me. But I can imagine - "

"No, I'm sorry... It's good that you say that, it's important,” Tim says softly and kisses Jonas on the lips, before he stands up, "I shouldn’t be so cynical. Can I use your bathroom? I need to pee."

"Sure."

Jonas looks after Tim as he goes to the bathroom, once again lost in thought.

He is glad that his own world, his surroundings, are still so small and clear. Although it is getting more difficult for him, too. Making more and more films, he has already realized himself that he has to bend himself on other levels.

Jonas hears the flush, hears the water tap running.

When Tim comes out of the bathroom, his gaze falls again on the high heel shoes with the platform sole.

"Can I try them on?"

Jonas rests his head on his hand and looks over at Tim with amusement and curiosity. "Sure, if they fit." He is relieved that Tim hasn't fallen back into sadness because of what they said.

Tim puts the shoes on and stands up. Completely naked, the silver chain with the gemstones around his neck and the high heel boots on his feet. He spreads his arms out with a grin.

"Same height, same jawline... Apparently we also have the same shoe size!"

Jonas smiles. Tim doesn't look like he can `rock´ the stage in them, but his confident posture shows that it's not the first time he has tried shoes like that, Jonas guesses.

In any case, he looks stunning. Jonas has to think of his queer colleague. When he himself wore these shoes for the first time and thought he looked silly, his colleague said: "It's not about how you look in them, it's about the fact that you're wearing them.”

And this is so right, as hot as Tim looks in them, it's just makes it so insanely sexier that he's wearing them.

Tim seems to have a similar idea in his head. "Wearing shoes like that does something to you, doesn't it?" he says and walks over to Jonas. The first steps are a little wobbly, making Tim smile, then he walks on with more grace than Jonas would have thought, and finally seductive as fuck.

Right in front of him in front of the sofa, Tim stops and looks down at him.

"Suck my cock.”

Jonas grins. This is hot as hell.

"What is that in German?"

"Lutsch meinen Schwanz."

"Okay, lootsh my shwounz."

Jonas loves everything about this situation.

That they are playing, that they are having fun, that they trust each other, that Tim sees this as a safe space to do all this and explore it.

Jonas slides down to the edge of the sofa so that he has Tim's cock right in front of him and takes it in his mouth. He hasn't done that for a long time either, especially not with such a big one, but it feels sexy doing it, as it stiffens in his mouth.

Tim’s hands bury themselves in his hair as Jonas licks and sucks, and Jonas thinks it can't get any hotter when Tim suddenly pulls him violently by the hair so that Tim's cock pops out of his mouth, forcing him to look up at Tim, mouth open, gasping for air, lips wet with saliva.

Tim bites his lower lip as if being surprised by himself and smirks at Jonas sugary sweet and innocently as a puppy.

"Sorry, it was just too tempting to do that." Words again brushing against tongue, teeth and lips.

“Don’t be sorry for that one,” Jonas pants.

Tim lets go of him then, lies down on the floor, on the soft flokati carpet, props up on his elbows, his high heels rammed into the floor so that his legs are bent, half open, and purrs invitingly, "Come on. Go on."

And Jonas is happy to oblige. He slides off the sofa, runs his hands over Tim's bare thighs, kisses the inside of these thighs and licks over Tim's shaft before he takes him in his mouth again.

Tim purrs like a kitten, one hand again in Jonas’ hair.

"A shame, I already came," he coos dreamily and adds dryly. "Or that I'm too old now.”

Jonas ignores the remark, tries instead to take Tim's cock deep down his throat, causing Tim to gasp out loud, even though he himself has to let go of the cock afterwards to take a breath.

Tim smirks at him. “Well, in any way it’s not you, Joni baby, you suck like an angel.”

Jonas rolls his eyes but has to smile anyway. He bends over Tim, strokes Tim's chest with his hair, lets it glide over his skin, finally moves to Tim's lips and kisses him.

Lazy deep kissing, while their cocks are pressing against each other.

"Who says you always have to come to have fun?" he asks, wraps his hand around both cocks and jerks them leisurely.

"Where you're right, you're right." Tim licks his lips, his breathing getting audible.

Jonas has to smile. He hadn't had such relaxed, sexy and sweet making out in a long time.

“Turn around,” Jonas whispers softly.

Tim does as told and as soon as his dick tips the rug, he involuntary grinds it into it, followed by a deep moan.

Jonas has to laugh out loud, he knows this feeling. “As soon as you feel it, you can’t resist, right?”

“No, you can’t,” Tim moans wholeheartedly, “and God, I need a rug like that, too.”

Jonas laughs even harder. It looks sexy like hell though, the way Tim rubs his naked body against the carpet on his knees with the high heels on and his dick getting buried in the soft rug.

But Jonas actually wanted to do something else. So he begins to kiss Tim’s shoulder blades while letting his hands glide over Tim’s body.

He makes his way further and further down, kissing, licking, touching... until he reaches Tim's ass. He straddles the ass a little so that he can first lick underneath it, bite it lightly, before he finally devotes himself to Tim’s entrance. Very very lightly, very very gently, he licks Tim's hole, hears Tim gasp, sees his hole contracting, feels his body whole contracting, feels how much Tim is enjoying it. He positions his cock against the hole and presses very very lightly against it. No further. No more.

Bends over Tim, and alluding to the fact that Tim told him earlier that he would still feel him on stage tomorrow, Jonas whispers in his ear: "And you'll still be thinking about me tomorrow night wondering how it would have been if I had fucked you for good." And with that he withdraws his dick and lies down next to Tim on the carpet grinning.

A protracted moan, Tim's fingers desperately clawing into the carpet, he clenches his body for any contact, but there isn’t any.

"If I'd known what a nasty bitch you are…" he growls.

But Jonas knows that Tim enjoys it. Enduring the teasing sensation. Writhing his misguided body, mourning the false expectation.

Jonas cuddles up to him, holds him, so that they lie entwined on the carpet and he loves how Tim’s body still twitches every now and then because it didn’t get what it wanted.

"Oh you filthy torturer, thou may rot in hell!" Tim laughingly exclaims eventually and Jonas has to laugh with him. "That's actually what I was going to suggest to you when you came out of the bathroom,” he says. “To give me a stage performance."

"Okay…" Tim says, apparently glad for the distraction and gently pushes Jonas away to get up, sighing after all. "Oh man, I can't remember the last time I had such a craving for a butt plug... Anyway..."

He pulls a chair from the kitchen table, sits on it at an angle, legs crossed, naked with boots, looking vulnerable, trying to find an attitude, trying to feel proud and strong, until his posture collapses again and he begins to recite Biff's monologue in ‘Death of a Salesman’.

“Now hear this, Willy, this is me. You know why I had no address for three months? I stole a suit in Kansas City and I was jailed. I stole myself out of every good job since high school. And I never got anywhere because you blew me so full of hot air I could never stand taking orders from anybody! That’s whose fault it is! It’s goddamn time you heard that! I had to be boss big shot in two weeks, and I’m through with it! Willy! I ran down eleven flights with a pen in my hand today. And suddenly I stopped, you hear me? And in the middle of that office building, do you hear this? I stopped in the middle of that building and I saw – the sky.“

Jonas has goose bumps all over his body and almost doesn’t dare to breathe.

„I saw the things that I love in the world. The work and the food and the time to sit and smoke. And I looked at the pen and said to myself, what the hell am I grabbing this for? Why am I trying to become what I don’t want to be? What am I doing in an office, making a contemptuous, begging fool of myself, when all I want is out there, waiting from the minute I say I know who I am! Why can’t I say that, Willy? Pop! I’m a dime a dozen, and so are you! I am not a leader of men, Willy, and neither are you. You were never anything but a hard-working drummer who landed in the ash-can like all the rest of them! I’m one dollar an hour, Willy! I tried seven states and couldn’t raise it! A buck an hour! Do you gather my meaning? I’m not bringing home any prizes any more, and you’re going to stop waiting for me to bring them home! Pop, I’m nothing! I’m nothing, Pop.“

The pain, the grief. The vulnerability. The grace nonetheless. The attempt to maintain dignity.

„Can’t you understand that? There’s no spite in it any more. I’m just what I am, that’s all. Will you let me go? Will you take that phony dream and burn it before something happens?“

Jonas never wants to see another Biff again.

It is absolutely touching.

He is unable to say anything, he can just let it resonate.

"Some texts you don't forget, do you?" says Tim a little absently.

Jonas still can’t say anything. So instead he takes his guitar off the stand, leans his head against the edge of the sofa and starts to play and sing a quiet version of a song he sang today on stage…

„Outside the window, they are singing, inside the doorway, there’s me…“

At some point, Tim gets up, comes over to him, sits down on the floor next to him and leans his head on Jonas' shoulder.

The air is tinged with melancholy, but Jonas hopes that not being alone makes it only half as heavy.

When Jonas finishes, for a moment there is only silence.

"That was nice”, says Tim quietly.

"Thanks."

"Can I have a go, too?"

“Sure.” Jonas pushes the guitar over to Tim.

Tim starts to play and finally sings softly along.

It sounds a bit like Bob Dylan, even though Jonas doesn't know much about it.

Like this they go on and on, they sing, they play and they quote lyrics, talk about roles and special moments... everything. One thing leads to another and inspires the next. Soon they are laughing again, soon they are joking around again, just quieter and softer than before.

At some point they move over to the bed, lie next to each other, on top of each other, the high heels off in front of the bed.

They keep talking gently until they eventually both fall asleep.

*

The next morning, Jonas wakes up.

Tim is standing next to the bed, still naked, looking at his cell phone.

"I didn't mean to wake you, sorry. I have to contact my assistant or else he’ll have a heart attack."

Suddenly there's that wall around him again.

"What's your address?" Coolness.

"Maria-Hedwig-von-Wachenheim-Allee" says Jonas, although it's not true. He was just looking for a long and complicated street name.

It serves its purpose, though, Tim laughs out loud. "What?"

Jonas stands up and holds out his hand. "I can type it in for you."

When he gives Tim the cell phone back, Tim raises his eyebrows. "But that's not the address you just said."

Jonas shakes his head, "No."

The cell phone vibrates and Tim answers it.

"Yes, I was just about to send you the address." He sounds already annoyed and stressed again.

"No. No," his voice is stubborn, and once more his whole body stiffens. "No, I won't do that... No, he doesn't have to sign it... No... I'll wait outside... Yeah."

He hangs up.

"I can sign the papers. I don't mind," Jonas says quietly.

Tim answers all the louder for it, he rages. "But I do! I don't want that. I want a different feeling, you know. I don't want to be safe for once. I want to be able to trust someone. To be allowed to. I mean, what's going to happen?"

Jonas bites his lower lip. He feels sorry for Tim.

Then he says, playfully dry: "So you think I'd better not sell your sperm in my ass on eBay?"

For a second the anger disappears and Tim laughs out loud. Smiles warmly at him. Says after a second, "You remind me of this friend, you know, the one who called yesterday. He would have tried to calm me down, too... But I mean, really what's going to happen? What kind of rumors do you think there have been about me? Or photos that weren't real. Everything has already been said!"

Jonas thinks of Tim naked in high heels.

Tim must be thinking about that too, as he admits with a laugh: "Okay, not everything yet..." He sighs and points towards the bathroom. "Anyway, can I have a quick shower?"

"Yes, of course. Do you need any clothes?"

"Nah, I’ll be fine." He takes the T-shirt from the floor, smells it and makes a face. "Hopefully."

"Wait..." Jonas gets a pair of underpants and a T-shirt he can spare from his wardrobe and hands it to Tim. "Here."

"Thanks!" Tim smiles at him and goes to the bathroom but turns around again, looking serious. "I hope that ... I hope you don't feel ... I hope you don't feel that I've taken advantage of my position or something like that... "

Jonas smiles and shakes his head. "No."

When Tim has closed the door of the bathroom, Jonas pulls on a pair of boxer shorts and a shirt himself, goes to the kitchenette and makes himself a coffee.

What a night.

He loves those nights.

Totally unexpected and magical.

Even if it was only for that night, it was beautiful.

He hasn’t finished his coffee yet, when Tim comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered.

Jonas holds up his cup, "Do you want one too?"

"No thanks, I'd love to, but I have to go," says Tim apologetically.

To be honest, Jonas is quite happy that Tim is now back at a distance. Anything else would have been awkward and he's glad that Tim isn't even trying.

As Tim puts on his leather jacket, Jonas has an image in his head of how this night has been a slow peeling down to the core and Tim is now slowly putting on all his layers again.

He wonders if there is another way.

Maybe you can aim so high that you don't let yourself be taken in, but in the end you end up like everyone else.

"Okay...," Tim slips into his sneakers, ready to go.

"Wait." Jonas sprints to the bookshelf and picks up the book by Karin Tidbek that Tim scrolled through last night and hands it to him.

Tim smiles warmly, "Thank you. Thank you. I wish I could give you something too. I had a very nice evening, a very beautiful night. I'll carry it in here." Tim puts a hand over his heart.

Jonas is touched. He nods.

The distance is there, but the connection remains.

Tim opens the door and walks down the stairs. The floorboards creak their typical old building creak.

Tim laughs and looks up at Jonas again.

"Man, I love it, you can't even really sneak away in these houses."

A wave of the hand, one last "Bye!" and then he's gone.

*

Sure, the next days Jonas googles Tim, but every time he does, he soon stops again. It feels strange and what he sees often doesn't match up with the Tim he met.

Mascha seems to have used the evening Jonas spent with Tim to fall into a rabbit hole. She now knows all about fake PR relationships, queer actors in Hollywood and Tim and his likely partner.

But even that more or less goes in and out of Jonas' head. He doesn't want to think about if he likes what Tim is doing or not.

In the end, it has nothing to do with their night.

The night was bigger than both of them. And that's how he wants to remember it.

Shortly before Christmas, he receives a small package from America.

Christmas underpants, a cool ‘bauhaus’ T-shirt and a book he doesn't know yet.

Also enclosed is a letter...

*

[aricastmblr]

jimin weverse live

지민 06.15 ㅋ "KE"

https://weverse.io/bts/live/3-121827733

jm-"Te echo de menos, ¿qué estás haciendo hoy?" No estoy haciendo mucho hoy, te echaba de menos así que estoy aquí! por fin estoy aquí! hola hola ~ ha sido un tiempo!

jm- Ah mi corazón está revoloteando estoy tan emocionado ¿debo hacer un mukbang? tengo hambre. 

jm- Comí pechuga de pollo a las 3pm y luego no comí.. ¿debo comer en casa? ¡ya terminé con todo por hoy!

jm- ¿Qué estoy haciendo? ¡estoy solo ahora mismo! A todos, ha pasado un tiempo.

jm- ¡¡¡Oh, qué es esto!!! ¡¡¡Acabo de ver arrugas!!! >:( 

jm- A todos, hace 2 días que fue nuestro 10º aniversario! yo iba a venir entonces, pero quería dejar que ustedes celebran y me dijeron que no hay mucho para festa, así que vine hoy.

jm- Les diré lo que he estado haciendo, he estado comiendo bien, haciendo ejercicio, trabajando en la música, y viviendo/trabajando duro! 

jm- Oh la cámara está temblando?

jm- Voy a ir más atrás para que no tiemble!

jm- Gracias ARMY! f jm- Felicidades a ti también por el 10º aniversario. jm- ¿Cómo han pasado ya 10 años? el tiempo pasa muy deprisa, ¿verdad? me da la impresión de que pronto serán 15 y luego 20 años.

jm- ¿Si puedo hablar en ingles? jm- Alguna idea sobre el 10° aniversario? Mis pensamientos son los que te dije a través de la carta. Me senté frente a mi computadora y lo escribí. Qué debo decir... fue ese tipo de ambiente en el que estaba como "guau ¿ya es el 10° aniversario?

jm- Vas a morir? Ah, estás usando traductor. 

jm- ¿Están disfrutando del 10º aniversario? he oído que mucha gente vino a corea para celebrar el 10º aniversario. 

jm-  Y esto es algo de lo que tenemos que hablar cuando nos conozcamos en persona, por eso debería hacer lives (en vivos)a menudo.

jm- Han pasado 3 meses desde que terminé con las promociones y mi cabello se ha vuelto largo así que estoy debatiendo sobre si debo o no dejar crecer mi cabello o cortarlo, amarrar mi cabello?

jm- He estado trabajando muy duro en hacer música, pensando en lo que puedo hacer por todos 

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

Tae comento en weverse live de Jimin

tae- Por favor haz la transmisión durante 5 horas 

jm- Si puedes comentar durante 5 horas lo haré. ¿puedes comentar durante cinco horas? 

tae- Nope. buena suerte/trabaja duro <con la retransmisión en directo>

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

jm-Estoy tratando de dieta saludable! mientras que hacer ejercicio y todo

army- Por favor, cuéntanos la historia de cuando llovió. 

jm- ¡Hay tantos días que llovió! ¡es tan difícil conducir cuando llueve, porque no puedo ver muy bien delante de mi y el carril! (le decian de la peles con jk hace 8 años y el contesto otra cosa jajaja)

jm- "Mantente saludable" mi salud ahora mismo esta bien, no te preocupes por favor, cuidate.

jm- lee comentarios   jm- Pero ya saben chicos... cuando te cortas el pelo, lo quieres largo. cuando te tiñes el pelo, lo quieres negro... ¡tendré que verlo!

jm- Dicen que la gente sueña 25-30 sueños pero recuerda uno, cuando sueñas, no duermes profundamente. 

  jm- Eso es lo que dicen los adultos pero vi algo que dice que la gente sueña durante 1 hora de sus 7 horas de sueño. Me quedé dormido sobre las 5 y me desperté una hora más

jm- Tarde dormí y fue tan bien durante esa hora así que de 6-12 estuve despierto luego dormí durante otra hora luego me desperté y me comí la pechuga de pollo así que tengo sueño. 

jm- Aaah, pero estoy aquí ahora~ pero tengo sueño~ ¡necesito aguantar y luego dormir más tarde!

jm- ¿He visto ya a hobi hyung? no aun no pero despues de organizar y terminar las cosas ire a verlo, ayer estaba pensando en él. 

 jm- Angel Pt.2 is coming? escucha con army Angel pt1 y Angel pt2

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Jimin empieza a contar de su pelea en día lluvioso con jungkook y que vio su live  (alguien preguntó 'Quiero saber tu versión de cuando peleaste con jungkook bajo la lluvia' )

ohh la historia de jungkook  ah, vi a jungkook en vivo, y mencionó esto. en ese entonces lo recuerdo todo claramente. nuestro jungkook era tan encantador. Yo también era demasiado joven. ahora, te lo diré. pero tengo que editar esto un poco,  

No estoy seguro de qué pasó para que yo actuara de esa manera, pero era un poco boomer (era como un kkondae -*una persona mayor que piensa que siempre tiene la razón*)  a pesar de que era joven. así que hablaba a menudo con taehyung y jungkook y decíamos 'tenemos que ser mejores con nuestros hyungs'. lo diríamos mucho. ah, realmente sueno como un boomer y es gracioso porque yo también era un niño pero mientras hablábamos me enojé tanto con jungkook que dije muchas cosas y me fui. pero jungkook también se molestó entonces. Fui un poco duro, y fue en las salas de práctica. Caminé a nuestros dormitorios desde las salas de prácticas. Entonces recibí una llamada (de Jungkook) recibí un par de llamadas, así que le dije "oye no me llames", pero entonces estaba llorando diciendo que no sabía dónde estaba, pero lo gracioso es que dije 'si puedes venir en taxi, te estaré esperando afuera'. pero cuando Jungkook se estaba acercando, comenzó a llover tan fuerte en ese momento,  ya había estado esperando alrededor de una hora. había un área en el techo donde podías evitar la lluvia, así que subimos al techo y hablamos mucho. él dijo 'hyung lo siento' y yo también dije 'no, lo siento'. y nos abrazamos, y jungkook lloró ( nos sentamos allí y hablamos y nos disculpamos y lo resolvimos)  después de eso alrededor de las 6 en punto teníamos que ir a filmar algo. Los ojos de jungkook estaban tan hinchados que fue muy gracioso. ah, debería haber tomado una foto de cómo sus ojos estaban tan hinchados, pero es una pena. ¿en que año fue eso? ¿yo tenia 21? fue hace 8 años creo. También lo sentí mucho por el y los miembros han hablado mucho de eso también, el incidente de los dumplings también, no puedo recordar Que mas hay, pero cuando los miembros nos reunimos, podemos recordar muchas cosas! 

jm lee- "¿las peleas nos unieron más?" 

jm- Sí, creo que sí, porque gracias a ellas pudimos perdonarnos y llegar a conocer las personalidades de los demás. Pero esto no es fácil, creo que debido a que nuestra vida en el dormitorio fue larga, sucedió naturalmente.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

jm- Los que están en el extranjero, ¿están disfrutando del concierto de yoongi hyung? nuestro yoongi hyung~ oh si debería hablarles de eso, cuando estaba en américa fue increíble! Me siento como si hubiera pasado tanto tiempo estando en una audiencia como esa

jm- Cuando voy a entrevistas o voy a un concierto para otro artista... ustedes son seriamente diferentes aunque ¡ustedes son tan lindos! podía verlos a todos tan bien cuando me enfocaba y verlos bailar y cantar. yoongi hyung estaba preguntando. Fue muy inspirador para mí también

jm- Me divertí mucho.

jm- No pude ver el último escenario, así que estaba triste, pero cuando venga a Corea me divertiré mucho. Fue divertido verlos cerca de ustedes. Los ARMY que estaban a mi lado me saludaban, pero cuando Yoongi estaba actuando, cantaban y bailaban.

jm- no ha visto FASTX

jm- Todos escúchenme, sé que mis labios son gruesos así que... ¿cuál es mi apodo? ¿cómo me llamas al ver mis labios gruesos? ¡oh sí ¿pato? pero los patos tienen el pico largo.. pero ¿ves? ¡sólo mi labio superior se pone blanco! así que por eso cuando estoy delante de ustedes siempre me pongo bálsamo labial que tiene color, así que voy a coger bálsamo labial. Creo que se ha vuelto demasiado rojo sólo me lo pongo en el labio superior "aunque no te pongas bálsamo labial eres guapo" soy sensible cuando se trata de mis labios~

jm- Mi madre me dio kimchi y yo no le he dicho todavía y es tan delicioso, pero lo dejé fuera, era crujiente realmente muy bueno el kimchi .. pero ahora es .. blanda .. lo siento madre .. aunque probablemente no verá esto : ¡más tarde tomaré una foto y lo enseñaré lo que ceno!

jm- ¿He escuchado la carta Love Letters? ¿puedo buscarla y encontrarla? Oh, salió hace 2 días! Vamos a tratar de escucharlo, lo que este omg ¿hicieron una canción y lo subieron? todas las voces son diferentes : ¿Hicieron esta canción para nosotros? ¡La canción es tan buena!

jm- wow que es esto! subieron esto el día 13! Omg todos, estoy conmovido~ la canción es buena! es como una canción 'frozen' me parece! es gracioso como empezó con namjoon hyung llorando~ *risas* muchas de las voces son diferentes. Un regalo tan bonito, gracias!

jm- enseña un personaje en su celu dormido y jm imita la pose y dice:

Nos parecemos y se ríe

jm-¿vamos a hablar toda la noche? no puedo.. quiero dormir temprano.. mi patrón, era bueno hace 4 semanas. No llegué a contarles esto pero dormía a las 12 y me despertaba a las 8, pero ahora mi patrón es... diferente

jm- ¿qué voy a hacer después del directo? ¡comeré uno de los alimentos que me recomendaste, una vez en casa, me quitaré la ropa y me pondré en el sofá y no me moveré en absoluto hasta que llegue mi comida. Sólo me moveré para coger agua.

jm- Me gustaría tener las manos más grandes. ¿Por qué las tengo tan pequeñas? (enseña su mano con callos imagino por ejercicio y se ve su tatuaje 13)

jm-No puedo contarte sobre la vez que taehyung y yo peleamos! es fifty fifty así que tendré que hablar con él sobre eso! 

jm- Debería hacer Live la próxima vez acostado.(se acuesta en el escritorio)

jm- Sí, te meteré en mi bolsillo y te llevaré a casa. (pone el celular en la bolsa del pantalón XD)

jm- ¿No es esta la primera retransmisión en directo de meterlos en mi bolsillo y escapar? ¿están bien ahí dentro? ¿cómo es en el bolsillo? de hecho los meteré en mi bolsillo y se ríe.

jm- ¿Todo el mundo viviría para entrar en mi bolsillo y volver a casa? ¿es cómodo? ¿estás listo para ir a casa? (se ríe ) 7 millones es demasiada gente... mi casa no tiene suficiente espacio para eso... espero que lo entiendas... 

jm- "Por favor, póngame de nuevo" haha tan divertido

jm- Pero chicos... quiero irme... tengo tanta hambre y sueño, quiero irme~ ¿por qué está subiendo el recuento de espectadores? ¿por qué? ¡me voy a ir ahora! y cuando baje el recuento de espectadores me iba a ir pero está subiendo, no hay mucho que pueda hacer.. tengo sueño

jm-  Hambre... quiero quedarme más pero... ¡hoy ha sido divertido! sigo diciendo que vendré a menudo y se ha convertido en un hábito pero primero me iré a casa y les enseñaré lo que he comido! ¡hagan y hagamos todos lo que tenemos que hacer ahora!

jm- Es divertido, pasar tiempo con todos ustedes. Me voy ~ se feliz! sólo me quiero ir, estoy cansado, tengo hambre ~ sí a todo el mundo gracias por hoy, fue tan divertido! gracias a todos ustedes, siento que estoy terminando el día bien. Asegúrese de comer, voy a subir una foto mas tarde. Te lo digo una vez más, gracias por el regalo de la canción para bts! me voy ahora bye~ ah esto fue divertido.

resumen del live de Jimin 

[pristina-nomine]

L'unica cosa che desideravo fare era vedere Catherine. Il resto del tempo mi accontentavo di ucciderlo.

- Ernest Hemingway, Addio alle armi (trad. Fernanda Pivano)

[reachingforthevoid]

Doctor Who: Army of Ghosts/Doomsday

I rewatched this two-part serial on 23 June 2023. It ends the 2006 season, and we now farewell Billie Piper as Rose Tyler. She gets a proper send-off, too. A bit mawkish for my tastes, but given her role over 2005 and 2006 it is fitting.

We begin with a reminiscence by Rose about her life with the Doctor and how it ended. It’s a good little teaser. Our heroes arrive back at Rose’s home to discover a weird worldwide manifestation of “ghosts”. I love the EastEnders joke in the media round-up. Meanwhile, Torchwood is up and running… and they have a problem with Cybermen! I do like the way the incidental music is what becomes the music in the spin off series (I’m unable to rewatch Torchwood or the other spin offs at this time - I did do so the last time I did a watch through of the stories from 2005 plus). 

Then the Cybermen invade wholesale. Mickey Smith returns from the alternative Earth to defend his planet… and then the Daleks appear! This story rapidly turns into a quite fun battle between the Daleks, Cybermen, and our heroes.

No surprises as to who wins, but it is a bit of a Pyrrhic victory. 

[tearsofjosh]

i am so physically ill please send help. jake back up vocals, josh at the end?!? WHAT IS PEACE.

[milliondollarbaby87]

KISS: End of the Road World Tour (Newcastle Review) Take 2!

[dudu76]

solos are taking over, btschartdata leaving, translation accounts being harassed,everyone being sensitive over ridiculous things, real armys leaving.. i sense that for the next two years eveyone will become a solo stan of one member (kths, jjks..) and there will be no real armys, everyone will continue on their way and ditch bts.. im afraid about the 2025 ot7 comeback..is still gonna army in that time?? this really sad and heartbreaking.. everyone says ‘we will get over this, we’re gonna become one again’ but nothing happened. as the matter effect its still going further and we’re not surviving..

[pirateborn-a]

     19..........

[skullzanta]

Guys, Gals and All others, Do you feel that?

The rumbling, the rumbling of the dirt and stone of the graves... It comes soon...

Everyone, I wish you the best of luck, for soon... We shall hatch.

[bunnylovesani]

An Arrangement

Summary: You’re a princess taken from your home planet and forced to marry Darth Vader. Turns out life on the Death Star isn’t as bad as everyone makes out. Based on the prompt shared with @luminoustarlight !

Content warnings: p in v sex, degradation, sub dynamics, begging, some violence, slow burn smut

WC: 9.3k

You stare out the grand palatial window in the coronation room, passively observing the flames swallowing the city of your home planet Onderon. Unintelligible screams flood the background, soon mercilessly silenced by the thuds and cracks of brusquely operated laser guns. 

So this is how you were to meet your end: powerless at the mercy of the imperial army. You’d been trained for such a scenario before and you always carried a vial of poison in the event of capture; you’d rather die than be made to serve the Empire’s twisted interests.

“Princess, you need to take cover, follow my men into the vault below!” Your faithful attendant, Silas called out in panic.

“No, Silas. I will not cower in the basement waiting for them to breach our walls. I will remain here and eagerly await them.” 

“But Your Grace-!”

“Enough.” You bark back. “It’s over. You have been discharged from duty, run while you still can. Thank you for all your years of service, I pray that our paths might cross again in another life.” You turn from him, tears flowing down your stiffeningly cold cheeks.

“May the Maker keep and protect you, Princess. You are our only hope.” He replies solemnly, before fleeing through the stony back passage of the palace.

You chuckle mirthlessly at the futility of his words and reach into your bosom where the corset of your gown has a sewn-in compartment. You extract the compact glass ampule of viper venom, so toxic that one drop is enough to send you into an eternal sleep, and fiddle with the intricate bottle for a few moments. With a heavy sigh, you tuck it under your sleeve; you decided you wanted to gaze into the eyes of your captors before you bid farewell to life. 

With a resounding crash, the barricaded gate before you falls and the imperial army- donning armour plastered in dust and foreign blood- swarm into the great hall of the palace. You force the knot in your throat down with a gulp and turn on your heel to face the brutes responsible for the massacre of your people. 

“Ah Princess, excellent. We thought you’d be grovelling underground with your father but you’ve just made our job a whole lot easier.” A masked figure that you presume is the Commander of the battalion addresses you. “Grab her. But keep her alive, she’s got a special purpose to fulfil.” 

Hearing the ominous plans they have in store for you, you rush to reach for the poison in your sleeve but are hindered by the stampede of soldiers hurtling at you, slapping the vial out of your hand and shattering it all over the nitid marble floor. 

‘Ah, ah, ah. Don’t even think about it.” The unnaturally deep voice of the commander booms. “You’ve been specially requested at the behest of the Emperor.” Dread consumes you as you’re roughly cuffed and dragged out of the safety of your childhood home. The soldiers marching comes to a sudden halt and you’re made to turn around and stare at the palace, a deadly silence hanging in the air. 

“Burn it.” 

Triggered by the commander’s words, a roaring blaze fulminates, the building being crushed in an instant by the force of the explosion. All you can see is the reflection of smouldering flickers through the thick veil of tears filling your eyes. 

The commander smugly trudges over to you, sharply inhaling. “Ah, there’s nothing better than the smell of a coward’s smouldering corpse.” He hisses, words dripping with venom. “Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Your heart burned at the injustice, at the innocent civilians decimated- but you couldn’t fool yourself into pretending that scorn extended to your dearly departed father. 

Refusing to reply to his provocation with anything other than an expectorated glob of spit aimed at his helmet, he takes the barrel of his gun and pummels it with brute force against your temple. You’re instantly rendered unconscious and your limp body is packed into the nearest starfighter, chained up and ready to make the journey from Onderon to the Death Star.  

The first thing you do as you’re rudely awoken is cradle your aching head- a wave of nausea overtaking you and the electric pain behind your eyes knocking the air out of your lungs. 

“Rise ’n shine, Onderon whore.” One of the soldiers grabbing you by the elbow spat and you stumbled to your feet like a newborn foal. After being dragged through a fortified steel tunnel, you were harshly thrown to the floor in a cold control room before two cloaked men, one of whom wore black combat boots- no doubt robust and heavy enough to crack open a skull. The light in the battle station glowed painfully bright and you lifted your head as best you could to observe the squabbling figures through squinted eyes.

“Here she is, my young Lord. I think she’ll do nicely, yes?” The ominously raspy voice croaked and you knew at once it was none other than Emperor Sheev Palpatine.

“She’s shivering.” The monotonous voice of the other cloaked figure stated callously and only then did you notice how your body was trembling- whether it was from the cold or the fear, you weren’t sure. 

“You’ll have plenty of opportunity to warm her up on your wedding night.” He cackles wickedly but is met with silence from the man opposite him. The last thing you remember before it all went black was the light reflecting off of the quiet man’s helmet, and wondering what might be lurking underneath. 

“Tskk poor thing, look at this cut on your head.” You flutter your eyes open to see a woman in a billowed white cloak tutting and fussing over you. “Good morning, princess.”

“Who are you?” You scowl, trying to get up and immediately being knocked back down by the overwhelming pain.

“Whoa, easy now! Nice ’n slow.” The woman puts her arm around your waist and helps you to sit up. “I’m Sabe, a royal handmaiden. Your handmaiden, to be exact.”

“Where am I?” You croak, uncertain you wanted to know.

“You’re on the Death Star, ma’am.” 

Bile rises in your throat at the realisation that none of it was a dream- your recollection of the last 24 hours starts flooding in and your chest seizes in panic. The fire, the cloaked men, the people in the vault. 

“You’re all right, just breathe. No harm is going to come to you. He’s made sure of that.” Sabe spouts and your head snaps at her.

“He?”

“Oh yes, Lord Vader gave orders for your protection. Under penalty of death. If you ask me, he just needs a woman’s touch to soften him up and he’d finally succeed in shaking that leech of an emperor off. Suppose that’s where you come in!”

“Me?” You screech, wondering when you’d say something not in the form of a question.  

“Oh, you poor thing, you don’t know…the Emperor is arranging a wedding between his young protegee and a princess from a seized planet. The princess being you, if that’s not clear.” She continued chattering incessantly. 

“Yes, I got that.” You snap. “And when is this supposed union meant to be taking place?”

“Tonight.” 

You choose to remain quiet, rather than parroting back her last word in the form of yet another question. 

After your handmaiden assists in bathing and dressing you in clean robes, you still can’t seem to escape the dull throbbing of the headache that permeates every cell of your body, leaving you in persistent agony. You beg Sabe to find something to help, knowing that you yourself weren’t allowed to leave the confines of the east wing. Stepping out onto the enclosed observatory space by your chambers, you stare out into the stars surrounding the vessel. You wished you could break beyond the thick glass enclave and just glide away, joining the stars and freeing yourself from the pain. 

“Who hurt you?” A raspy voice questions and you turn around to the sight of Lord Vader, enveloped in his armour and mask. 

“Uh, whoever the commander of the battalion was.” You reply, startled.

“He will be dealt with. Now come here.” He reaches his gloved hand out, signalling for you to grab it. With a great deal of uncertainty, you approached him, timidly giving him your hand. He takes it into his palm and holds it firmly to his chest. As if some force had siphoned the contusions and swelling out of you, you felt your agony slowly subside- until there was nothing at all in its wake. 

“H-how did you do that?” You took a step back from him, holding your fingers up to your temple in disbelief. You’d heard of force healing before but assumed it was either a myth or a nearly lost practice only wielded by the most masterly of Jedi.

“Go back to your chambers and rest. You have a long ordeal ahead of you.” He leaves your question unanswered and marches out of the observatory as quickly as he entered it. 

You’re compelled to follow his commands so you retreat to your chambers, forcing yourself to drink the healing tea Sabe concocted after having decided it was easier than explaining the bizarre experience you’d had. That was the dark Sith Lord that struck terror into the hearts of everyone who faced him? Ruthless, soulless, devoid of all human compassion- and channelling force healing to ease your headache? You spent all afternoon writhing in confusion, all the way up until a neatly packaged box was left on the doorstep of your assigned room. Upon closer inspection, the box contained an intricate white lace dress, paired with a beaded, scallop hemmed headpiece. A wedding outfit.

Standing at the forefront of the cold metallic arena, you twiddled with the sleeves on your dress- the material itching terribly and making your skin crawl. In a way, you were glad to have something occupy your mind beyond the impending prospect of marrying a Sith brute. You wondered why he wore that clunky helmet- is he so hideously deformed he has to hide behind it lest people faint at the sight? 

A frightened-looking man you can only assume is the officiator of this sham of a wedding is escorted through the heavily guarded gates and takes his place before you, not daring to make eye contact. Your body fills with dread at the familiar sound of heavy boots dragging along the steel plates of the floor. He doesn’t spare you a passing glance for even a moment, despite your stubborn resolution to face him for the entirety of the ceremony- you wanted to look deep into the supposedly merciless eyes of your new husband. There aren’t any vows, there’s no exchange of rings, no kiss to celebrate the union- just some legal jargon and a couple of witnesses. Although you can’t see him, you can feel Palpatine’s snake eyes burning into you, no doubt observing from another room to ensure his mysterious plan came to fruition. 

“Follow me.” A stormtrooper orders you and begins to head back in the direction of your chambers. Confused, you allow him to escort you out of the hall as you see a cloaked figure approach Lord Vader out of the corner of your eye. You just about hear the Emperor’s gravelly voice hiss out the word “consummate” before the doors shut behind you and you’re carried away to the bedroom. For some reason, the thought of sex hadn’t crossed your mind- you assumed villains like him had interests that surpassed such blunt mortal affairs - but now standing in front of your 4-poster bed, waiting for the sound of his heavy footsteps again, reality sunk in. You swallowed the thick lump in your throat and lay on the bed, removing the first layer of your dress and remaining in a white negligee. “Just lie back and think of Onderon.” You thought.

Your whole body tensed as you observed him enter your joint chambers, completely walking past you and going to the connecting bathroom, door left ajar. 

“I’m ready, Lord Vader.” You stiffly announce, hoping to get it over with as soon as possible. 

Hearing your words, he peers out of the doorway and although you can’t see his face, his body language seems perplexed. 

“What are you doing?” He remarks accusingly. 

“I-I’m…waiting for you to consummate our marriage. Like Palpatine wishes.” He scoffs at your comment- laughs even- and goes back into the bathroom. 

“I will do nothing of the sort.” You hear him say.

Sitting up on the bed and dragging the covers over your exposed body, you’re bewildered. 

“Oh, c-can Sith Lords not…?” You stutter, searching for an explanation.

“I assure you I’m perfectly capable.” He snaps back. “I just have no desire for the task.” 

Although relief floods your body, you feel slightly offended at the presumption that lovemaking with you should be a task. 

Just then, you hear a steamy hissing sound, followed by a loud thud. The figure emerges, back facing you without his layers of armour- donning a simple black shirt and black trousers. He wanders over to the window at the far end of the room, staring out into space. 

“I’m sorry about your father.” He grunts after a while and you finally hear his voice- free from robotic static, with no menacing growl - just him, and it sounds beautiful.

“Don’t be.” You say sincerely, fixated on the back of his head. You notice he has dark blonde curls, gathering in tufts at the nape of his neck. “Come on, turn around.” You think, bracing yourself for what you might find. 

“Alright, if you insist.” He remarks and you scowl in confusion- you didn’t say that out loud, did you? 

He pivots round to face you and you feel as though someone has knocked the air from your lungs: he glares at you with mesmerising cobalt-blue eyes, embellished by abundantly thick lashes and even thicker eyebrows sitting atop his handsomely chiselled face. His cheekbones stand at attention, enhanced by his sculpted jawline, which works in perfect harmony with the rest of his body- even his collarbones are perfect. He’s full of sprightly vigour, he’s young even. You are floored and contemplate how anyone could hide such a face away in that clunky helmet.

“Not what you were expecting, huh?” He speaks, sensing the utter shock his appearance has inflicted on you. 

“You…you’re-” You stutter.

“Not hideously deformed?”

“-beautiful.” 

He raises his bushy eyebrows disapprovingly and you scold yourself for being so forthright. He may be devilishly handsome, but that doesn’t mean you can swoon over him. He’s a monster, remember? Sure, he has the most seductive pair of lips you’d ever seen on a man - all plump and the perfect shade of pink- and sure, he’s sparked a desire within you that you don’t think you’d ever felt before but…where were you going with this? 

“I’m going to sleep in the adjoining room, you can take my chambers.” You’re snapped out of your dreamy haze by his velvety voice as he begins to walk away.

“Wait! Y-you don’t have to, I’m sure the bed is uncomfortable over there.” 

“No, it’s perfectly fine.” He continues marching away. 

“Wait! The bed here is more than big enough for the both of us, we wouldn’t even touch.” You stumble over your words, melting under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

“Do you want me to sleep with you, Princess?” His movement comes to a halt and you’re rendered speechless. “Because that really would be something. Captured and brutalised after all that you hold dear is set alight, forced to marry a servant of evil- and then you request his company in your bed? That would be deranged. You’re not deranged now, are you Princess?”  

Your mouth goes dry at the snarky way in which he’s talking to you- you admit it sounds mad out loud but the situation is more complicated than he thinks. 

“N-no.” You mutter, barely above a whisper. 

“Good, I wouldn’t want to find out I’ve married damaged goods.” He remarks impertinently. “I’m retiring for the evening- and I am not to be disturbed.” With that, he slams the door between you shut and you slide down your headboard, consumed by embarrassment, shame, desire. His dastardly good looks have really thrown a spanner into the works. 

You barely managed to get any sleep that night, much like every night the week following the wedding. Your dreams were plagued by visions- of your father, of your captors, of your husband. Before your seizure, you already knew your future would hold a forced marriage; although an even less desirable one. Your father had plans to marry you off to your cousin, a brainless specimen by the name of Fester who was too dim-witted to even realise he was being used as a pawn in the family’s bloodline feud.

Despite your many attempts to plead and beg your way out of this union, your father dismissed you entirely- even going so far as to sanction you to the confines of your stuffy quarters, striking you remorselessly when you defied his orders. 

You’d spent a lifetime dreamily peering out of your windows, waiting to be liberated by a saviour that never came- at least not in the way you thought. 

Lord Vader was never present, aside from a very brief juncture in the evenings, when he would pass through your chambers on the way to his bedroom. You tried to make conversation but he either stared at you with dead, unamused eyes or flat-out ignored you. Asking him what he did during his working hours was not one of the things you tried to speak about- much preferring to stay in ignorant bliss- and he was more than happy to not be at the receiving end of your questions for once. 

Growing increasingly tired of questioning your purpose on this wretched behemoth of a ship, you took the liberty of posting yourself outside his bedroom that night, waiting to block his exit until he at least acknowledged your existence. You’re ashamed to admit that you selected your nightwear especially for him- tonight choosing to wear the thinnest of slip dresses in the pathetic hopes that he might be drawn in by your pert chest. 

As is routine, you hear the doors to your chambers swing open and are greeted with the welcome sight of the young Lord, who strides over to you intimidatingly. Removing his helmet and towering before you, you gulp at not just the height difference- but the sheer broadness of his shoulders compared to your slender ones. 

“Move.” He states, glaring at you unaffectedly. 

“No. I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.” You stubbornly huff and you think you spot a glint of amusement in his eyes. 

“You don’t give the orders around here, Princess.” He asserts as he lifts you up by the waist with ease and drops you out of his way like you were a meagre traffic obstruction. You’re filled with disbelief as he enters his room, shutting the door in your face. “At least he didn’t slam it tonight.” You ponder.

Slouching down the door defeatedly, you pout as you hear him undress, desperately in need of an explanation. 

“Please.” You plead pitiably, not expecting him to hear you. 

You almost fall to the floor as your backrest swings open, and you lift your head to see him, sighing above you. 

“What is it?”

“I-I just wanna know some things.” You mutter, cradling your knees on the floor. 

“Then talk.” He taps his foot impatiently. 

“Well uh- for starters, why am I here?” You rise from the floor to face him. “Why did Palpatine want you to marry me?”

“He wants me to sire a son- to ensure his plans can be carried out should I be otherwise indisposed.” He looks away coldly. 

“I don’t understa-“

“Palpatine will live into his 200s. I am only human. If I am killed, he wants another apprentice to bend to his will, one just as strong with the force.” 

“So why haven’t you attempted to do any siring yet?” He looks at you with a look of intense shock, disgust even. Of all the things he’s said, you take issue with his lack of action in the bedroom. 

“I refuse to participate in this charade. He’ll see that you’re barren after a while- and we’ll dispose of you accordingly.” 

“But I’m not barren.” You interject, dismissing the latter part of his sentence. 

“It would be in your best interests to pretend you are.” You’re beguiled by his smooth voice and find yourself yearning to hear it all night. “I’ve brought someone to keep you company, hopefully with them in attendance you’ll be less inclined to seek my attention.” 

“Another handmaiden? Ah, spare me- the current one is more than irritating enough on her own.” You shudder at the thought of 2 Sabes, prattling in your ear all day. 

“No, I’ve ordered for the capture of your former attendant. I believe you were quite fond of him- Silas, is it?” 

Your heart seizes, he’s alive? More importantly, he’s being brought to you? You stare at the scowling face of your husband, who looks afraid you might try to do something overly affectionate. 

“A purely self-indulgent measure. To prevent any future ambushes like the one tonight.” He backtracks, attempting to impose some distance but you disregard it entirely. “If that’s not enough to keep you occupied, you can also have access to my private library - Silas will be waiting for you there tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, my Lord,” You whisper, throwing caution to the wind and wrapping your arms against his waist, face snugly pressed into his firm chest. You feel him tense up at the intrusion, but he relaxes ever so slightly with an exhale, hovering his arms above your own- careful not to let them touch lest he give you the impression he’s embracing you back. 

“Call me Anakin.” He mumbles softly. 

You wake up the next day, your chest feeling lighter than it has in years. Bounding out of bed, you instil deep confusion in Sabe, who enters your room with fresh clothes. 

“Having a good morning?” She asks.

“I think actually, yes. Yes, I am.” You reply resolutely, allowing her to dress you without your usual complaints as she tightens your corset. 

“Might this have anything to do with Lord Vader?” She raises an eyebrow, consumed with curiosity. 

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I see that my new life might not be so bad after all. I believe I have someone waiting for me, you’re dismissed for now, Sabe.” You waltz out of your chambers to the library that Anakin mentioned you were granted entrance to. 

You enter the room and stare in wonder at the rows upon rows of polished shelves, furnished with all kinds of large, leather-bound books. Among the volumes of publications is a tall, spindly man- standing with his back turned. 

“Silas!” You cry out and dart towards him, colliding against him in a tight embrace. 

“Princess! Let me look at you, are you hurt?” He grabs your face, inspecting it for any cuts or bruises. 

“No, no I’m perfectly fine!” You smile. 

“How could you possibly be fine? I heard about the wedding- it’s a scandal, it’s a disgrace! The intergalactic senate will hear about this- I promise I will get you out!“

“Silas, it’s okay, I’m being treated well here.” Your reply sends him into a stunned silence. 

“You’ve been married to a Sith Lord. A princess of the purest blood made to intermingle with the lap dog of the Emperor. I don’t even want to think about what you’ve been forced to do here to survive.” He shudders.

“I haven’t been made to do anything. And Anakin really isn’t that bad once you get to know him a little.”

“Anakin?” Silas almost breaks out in hives at what he’s hearing. 

“Yeah, that’s his real name. And oh, Silas, he’s so handsome!” You clamber on, reading the titles off a nearby bookshelf and digging for something that might take your fancy.

“I don’t believe this. One week under captivity and you’ve been brainwashed already.” He takes his head into his hands.

“I haven’t been brainwashed.” You chuckle. “Anakin is the one who brought you here. Just for me. And he lets me have the nicest quarters on the ship- and I’m allowed private access to the whole library!” You gush.

“So he’s built you a very pleasant cage. Fantastic. Just because your prison has a nice interior doesn’t make it your home.”

“Well, it’s no less of a prison than Onderon was. At least in this one, my marriage isn’t incestuous.” Silas’s eyes widen beyond measure at the boldness of your statement and he takes a seat before he collapses. 

“He used the force to heal me when I was in pain.” 

“And what caused you to be hurt in the first place?” He snaps back accusingly.

“Silas, listen to me.” You kneel beside him, taking his hand into your own. “I’ve spent too many years worrying about the fate of my future, cursing the Maker for how little control I had over my own destiny. No more. I can only take life as it comes in small waves- I have relinquished control. This is my new home now.”

With a heavy sigh, Silas nods- looking away as if unable to process your revelation. 

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.” You say, mischievous twinkle in your eye.

The remainder of the day is spent flicking through various books, amassing a pile of them in your bedroom so high that you could barely see Sabe’s head poking through when she entered.

“Um, m’lady? If you won’t be requiring anything else for the night, can I retire? Silas and I were thinking of wandering down to the observatory by my quarters…”

“Of course, Sabe, enjoy.” You chuckle as she meekly smiles and exits your room. You knew they’d hit it off, one perennial chatterbox with another. Flicking through the last page of the first edition volume of The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise, you hummed discontentedly. “What a terrible ending.” You thought as you inspected the piles on your floor for the second volume. You suspect you must’ve left it in the library when you were packing your books onto the trolley so you wrap a thin robe around yourself and march down the hall. You notice the lights already burning as you enter the library cautiously, peering your head through to see Anakin, sitting on an armchair and reading something out of a thick, metal-encased manual. 

“What’s your book about?” You query as you approach him slowly.

“It’s a story about a very naughty princess who loves to go looking for trouble.” He sneers, lip curling up into the shadow of a smile. 

“No, it’s not!” You titter as you pry over the bind, seeing various starfighter diagrams and mechanical cross-sections. 

“What do you want now?” He shuts the book promptly.

“I just came to collect something I left behind.” You reply innocently. 

“I trust you’re enjoying my collection, then.” He looks up at you for the first time and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of his dreamy eyes.

“Oh yes, it’s very impressive. I didn’t think Sith Lords read so much.”

“They don’t.” He gets up from his chair, sauntering over to a nearby shelf and picking out a specific book. “Try this, I think you’ll like it.” He throws the book in your direction and you catch it; observing the cover, you speculate it’s some kind of historical tale about a lost civilisation. 

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to read it.” You tuck it under your arm. “Are you retiring for the night yet?” 

“Yes, I’ll leave the library to you.” He gets up to leave but you stand in front of him. 

“I was only here to get something, escort me back?” You ask and he looks you up and down before making a low grunting sound, something you can only assume is a sign of acceptance. He heads out the door and you follow, trailing behind him like a lost puppy. 

“I never got to thank you.” You say as you enter your chambers, seizing the short moment you have to converse before he disappears into his bedroom. 

“What could you possibly have to thank me for?” He rolls his eyes.

“For rescuing me.” You reach out to touch him by the arm but back down, courage failing you. 

“You’ve lost your mind.” 

“No, really. My circumstances back home were…less than ideal.” You stare down at your feet.

“I admit I find it peculiar that you don’t seem to be in mourning.” He notes, more intrigue in his tone than you’re used to.

“Would you be in mourning over a man who oppressed and rebuked you at every turn?”

“I see. I suppose that explains your…unorthodox behaviour.” For the very first time, he takes a seat on the chaise lounge by your bed- does he actually want to have this conversation with you?

“I guess you could say that. After he locked me up in the palace and forced me to accept my cousin’s betrothal, I abandoned all hope for the future and resigned myself to perpetual misery. And then you came along.” He squints his eyes, looking almost frustrated with your positivity.

“Are you sure you understand the situation you’ve found yourself in? You’re aware you’ve been abducted- forced to spend every day locked up here, never to see your planet or familiars again? Forced to play wife to me?” He gawks incredulously.

“You’re not as bad as you make out.” You smile at him. “And you’re certainly very easy on the eyes.” You look for changes in his demeanour but it remains unaffected. “Would you have preferred it if I was terrified and unwilling to go near you?” 

“Terrified? Of course not, the thought of it sickened me. Unwilling to go near me? I’m not sure I’d mind.” He states and you wonder if that was his way of making a joke. “I regret that you’ve been ensnared into this. I wish it could’ve been different.” 

“I don’t.” You pluck up the courage to sit beside him, placing your hand on his leg. “I can see there’s goodness within you. It’s almost tangible in the way you treat me.” 

“Clearly I’ve given you the wrong impression.” He mutters gruffly, visibly uncomfortable. “And you can stop wearing those little dresses around me. All you’re going to succeed in doing is get frostbite.” He pushes your hand off him.

“Do you find me that repulsive?” You question sharply, tired of being made to feel undesirable. “I’ve been told my looks rival that of some of the fairest Princesses in the galaxy. Is a man like yourself so completely cold to the affections of women?”

“I fail to see how that is relevant.” He dismisses.

“It’s relevant because I’m tired of my bed being cold. You chose to marry me, now act like a husband!” 

“What choice? I had no choice!” He shouts back and your blood runs cold when he stands towering over you.

“That makes two of us. But I fail to see what good can come from sulking about it.” You lower your tone.

“You’re that desperate, huh?” He sneers condescendingly.

“So what if I am?” You throw caution to the wind, fully aware of the way you’re debasing yourself right now; after the breadcrumbs of affection he’d been giving you, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fine.” He says, making his way over to the bed, ripping off his shirt. 

“W-what are you doing?” You murmur as he undresses and positions himself in the middle of your stately bed. 

“I’m ready, Princess.” He mocks, parroting what you’d said to him on your wedding night. “You wanted to fuck me, right? Well here I am. At your royal disposal.” 

“N-not like this.” You mutter, trying not to stare at his firm pecs or chiselled abdomen. 

“What’s the matter? You’ve been prancing around in those little dresses all week, practically begging me to give you a scrap of my attention and now I’m in our marital bed, you’re too scared?” 

“I’m not scared, I just don’t want to feel like I’m forcing myself on you.” You mutter quietly, drained of all confidence. 

“You’re worried about all the wrong things. Palpatine told me to brutalise you to within an inch of your life, you know that? To take all my anger out on you and make you pay for the sins of your family. And you’re worried about whether you’re taking advantage of me. I fear I have been too soft. You seem to forget who you’re speaking to.” 

“But you didn’t.” You sniffle.

“What?”

“But you didn’t do those things. You’re a good man, Anakin.” Your voice softens and you climb up the bed to join him, allowing your gaze to linger on the small line of blonde curling hair starting from his belly button, travelling down to what lay underneath his underwear. 

“No. I haven’t quite lost all my humanity.” He breathes heavily, seemingly noticing your staring. 

“Let me show you my appreciation.” You bit your lip and bravely met his intense gaze. He doesn’t respond, the only noticeable reaction being his eyes wandering down to your breasts, thin material doing little to conceal your pert nipples. 

“Do you wish to see me?” You ask, fingers toying with the straps as he huffs slightly, acting as though this were beneath him- but still remaining silent. You shrug the material off, revealing your round, perky breasts to him. You think you can see something twitching in his boxers but you can’t be sure. 

“Can I?” You ask, gesturing to sit on his lap but he remains speechless. “Please, my Lord, I need to hear you-“ 

“Yes.” 

A grin spreads across your face as you mount him, completely bare. Putting your hands on his chest, you move your hips a little to feel him. Not that you were expecting any less for a man of his stature, but you felt yourself getting soaked at his formidable size; he was surely 8 inches, and just as satisfyingly thick. Your eyes fall to his pretty face and you’re overcome with the urge to kiss him all over. Reaching down to plant small kisses over his temple and cheeks, you feel him stiffen even more. 

“What are you doing?” He grumbles.

“Shut up and kiss me.” You pant as you capture his lips in a soft kiss, brushing them against each other. You can feel him almost fighting the urge to hold you so you take the initiative and grab him by the jaw, kissing him deeply and passionately. You think you hear a moan slip out of his mouth but when you pull away, he’s still got the same cold expression on his beautiful face- brows slightly furrowed and lips pursed in disaffection. 

“If you’re waiting for me to make a move, it’s not going to happen.” He sighs, looking fatigued. A quiet rage simmers within you. You’ve had suitors lining up at the palace gates since you were a teenager and now this glorified servant is behaving as though he is the prize. You craved the chance to teach him not to underestimate you, to make him see you were special. “On another occasion, perhaps.” You thought. Tonight, you just wanted to make him writhe beneath you. 

“If you’re going to be making snarky comments all evening, I’m going to stuff my panties in your mouth to silence you.” 

“What panties? You didn’t wear any.” He grins and your chest sets alight. However brief it was, it’s the first time you’ve seen a genuine smile. His teeth were pearly and straight, and his smile broad enough to reach across his whole face in a bright, radiant flash. You felt like your day had gotten better just by being witness to it. 

“Why do you always do that?” He breaks your trance.

“Huh, do what?”

“Disassociate. You stare right through me when you do it.” 

“M’sorry. I can’t help it.” You feel a fierce shyness overcome you. 

“You find me that handsome?”

“Yes.” You whisper. You have no idea why you’re admitting to it. 

“Is that why you don’t mind being married to me?” He continues and you’re confused by the volume of questions coming your way- it’s more than he’s talked to you all week.

“Partly.” He smirks a little at the ego boost and places his hands on the back of his neck, arm muscles flexing as they’re extended. You trail a line from the centre of his chest down to his abdomen with the tip of your index finger, stopping as you reach the band of his boxers. You look up at him and he raises an eyebrow at you, almost daring you to go further. Toying with the band for a little while, you steel yourself and pull them down in one prompt motion. You have to hold in a wince as you take it in- in all its thick, veiny glory. With a shuddery breath, you savour the view before you: his strong, toned arms trailed down to his athletic torso, v-line achingly defined and sloping down to his large, pink-tipped member. “Even his dick is pretty.” You mentally cursed. His smirking, confident simper never faltered, not feeling a fragment of insecurity for even a moment. 

Knowing you weren’t going to get any warming up from him, you lifted your hips and angled yourself up, tip kissing your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly sunk down on him, lowering yourself gradually until your bare skin brushed against the curls around the base of his cock. He shuts his eyes for a moment and exhales lightly, pretty lips forming into a small o shape. You try to subdue the overwhelming feeling of being filled so deeply, not wanting to stroke his ego even more than you already have. You begin to move, riding him very slowly and focusing on his chest as it rises and falls, eyes watering at the sensation of being stretched out. Worrying that he’s going to question why you’re going so slow, you begin to speed up even though it aches. 

“Slow down.” He speaks softly. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“As if you care.” You huff.

“Don’t get on my bad side, Princess.” He shoots you a deadly glance and you slow back down, knowing better than to disobey him. It takes you a good while to accommodate to his size, oo’s and aa’s escaping your mouth every time you straighten up and sink down on his cock a little too deeply- but after the adjustment period, you start to ride him confidently. Your tits bounce with a hypnotising jiggle as you smack the flesh of your ass against his thighs, wetness drenching you both. Noticing how his arms lay by his side, you grab him by the wrist and lay them on your hips. He grips onto them slightly for a moment, but quickly releases and lets them fall back down to his sides. You whine a little, starved of affection. You were bouncing on his cock yet you still felt like you weren’t close.

“Please?” You moan. 

“You wanted this, not me. I said I’m not participating, didn’t I?” His voice rings out, completely unaffected while you were a panting mess.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not- ah- enjoying it. F-feels good, doesn’t it?” You stutter, feeling his tip prodding that spongy spot within you that threatens to be your undoing. 

“It’s fine.” He replies, still refusing to engage in any meaningful way.

“Oh come on, Anakin! Give me something.” You feel like you’re one snarky comment away from resorting to begging. 

“I’ve given you my cock. What more do you want out of me?” 

“I want you to talk to me, I want you to touch me. To be present!” 

“And I want for my wife to not be such a whore.” Your mouth gapes open at his harsh words, but you continue bouncing, getting too close to stop now. “I mean seriously, you’re being held hostage and all you can think about is getting fucked? There’s nothing in that little brain of yours other than visions of me fucking you, is there? I’ve seen them.”

You moan at his degrading words- if you weren’t so cock drunk, you might be ashamed of the way you’re allowing him to speak to you. 

“Oh my God, are you gonna cum from me talking down to you? Does me calling you a stupid whore get you off?” He rambles and you can’t stop yourself from turning into a whimpering mess, moans spilling out at every turn and unintelligible groans flooding the room as you bounce on his cock.

He reaches up towards you and you think he might be pulling you in for a kiss but instead, he hooks his fingers into the corners of your mouth, stretching it out. You babble out disjointed syllables, too overwhelmed to establish a rhythm that isn’t completely sloppy.

“The fuck are you even saying right now?” He laughs and oh god, there’s that smile again- if his cock wasn’t enough, now his grin is making your legs feel like jelly.

“What are these dumb little sounds you’re spluttering out? You sound like an idiot.” The lewd squelching noises increase in intensity as you fall apart on top of him in a sudden climax- pleasure hitting you like a truck and nearly knocking you out. You pant on top of him, trying to catch your breath with your head resting on his chest. He clears his throat after a minute and you shuffle off him, laying your head on the nearby pillow instead. 

“Wow. That was…did you not cum?” It occurs to you that you’d just used him for your own pleasure.

“Of course not.” He gruffly responds, legs still spread and cock exposed, glistening with your arousal. “I have self control.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask and he turns to face you.

“You’re like a bitch in heat. It’s not very princess-like of you.” 

“Well, I’m not a princess anymore. I’m a Sith Lord’s wife.” You counter.

“Wives don’t ride like that.” You know he didn’t mean it as a compliment but you chose to take it as one anyway. 

“Aren’t you going to cover up?” You point at his exposed body while you clutch the crisp white sheets around yourself.

“Why should I?” He snaps back and you’re taken aback by his show of confidence. And you certainly weren’t complaining.

“Yeah, I bet you aren’t.”

“Okay, you’ve got to stop doing that! It’s unnatural.” You complain.

“I don’t ordinarily pay such close attention to these things but your mind is so dirty.” 

“Oh yeah? What have I been thinking about in the last couple minutes then?”

“You’ve been wondering how I’m both a shower and a grower, how you’ve never been so wet before - oh, and how you want to fuck me again.” Your cheeks redden at his painfully accurate observations- and you feel his vulgarity plant a renewed desire within you. 

“Really, you want another round? Fine. Hop on.” He sighs, tapping his thigh. You stare at him affectionately with a smile as if to say “really?” and you clamber over him again. You only have to press your dripping body against him once and he quickly hardens again, tip oozing with precum. You waste no time impaling yourself, pussy swallowing him greedily- slightly sore but still stretched out enough to take him with ease. 

“Anakin, please.” You mumble, reaching for his hands- needing to feel them on your skin. 

“What do you want?” He replies breathily. 

“Please, touch me.” You slide up and down his shaft, body racked with delirious pleasure. “Pleasepleaseplease - please Anakin!” He scoffs smilingly at how you’ve been reduced to a needy mess before he’s even put an ounce of effort in. “Do you want me to beg? I’ll get on my knees and beg- please, touch me just a little, please Ani-“

“Alright, alright, enough!” He stops you and you wince at his harsh tone, wishing that just for once, he’d be gentle with you. 

“I’m sorry, it’s okay. I’m right here.” He reaches out and wraps his hands around your dainty waist, right arm gradually trailing up your body. His knuckles brush against your cheek tenderly before he wraps his strong hand around your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss. You squeak in shock at the unexpected affection as your breasts press against his chest, one hand squishing your soft flesh and the other wrapped up in your hair. 

“Mmm, Ani.” You hum, your deepest craving finally quelled.

“No one’s called me that in a really long time.” He mumbles into the kiss, sliding both hands down to your ass cheeks and gripping them firmly. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks as he slides you on and off him, commanding your movements with his strong grasp. 

“Oh God yes, fuck Ani- ah.” You gasped as he began lifting his hips and fucking his cock into you, fingernails digging into your hips. “‘m not gonna last much longer if you keep go -oh, just like th- aah.” 

“You don’t need to.” He whines, finally allowing himself to utter his own sweet sounds. 

“Nuh uh, I-I want you to cum with me.” You whimper in his ear as you wrap your arms around his neck. Cradling you, he wraps one arm around your back and rests his other hand on the back of your head while drilling you with such vigour you almost black out. 

“Shh, baby, shh- ’s okay.” He moans and your walls flutter at the heavenly sound. Try as you may, you can’t stop the drool that streams out of your mouth, fucked so dumb that you’re losing control over your senses. 

“You’re close, can feel you gripping me.” He sputters, barely audible over the sound of your squeals. “You want the whole ship to hear you, huh?”

“I want them all to know who I belong to.” You manage to get out clearly, trying to get a handle on your faculties. Rising up from being tucked into his neck, you start bouncing on him with the excitement of a little bunny, so desperate to bring him to his release. You look down at him, eyes screwed shut, gnawing on his bottom lip and you feel how furiously his eager cock throbs inside you.

“Want you to fill me up.” You warble, dropping your hands to lay on either side of his face, soft locks brushing against your wrists. “I wanna be yours.” You stare into his eyes, which have just fluttered open, eyebrows knitted close together.

“You’re already mine.” He whispers, grabbing you by the waist and turning you over in one swift motion, your back hitting the plumpness of the bed. Before you can take a breath, he slams into you again and your back arches from the overstimulation. 

Hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you deeper into him, he roughly pounds against you, cock gliding into your sensitive core. You try to focus yourself, gnawing on your lip and mentally repeating: “You can’t cum this quickly again.”

“Oh yes, you can.” He asserts mischievously, speeding up his sloppy strokes until your eyes roll to the back of your head. You grip the sheets around you, trying desperately to hold on for just a few seconds longer.

“Don’t you dare.” He growls, slapping against you roughly. Beads of sweat trickle down his defined pecs, down to the creamy mess where your bodies meet. With one final gloopy thrust, you scream out his name and collapse entirely, body convulsing with pleasure as he moans at the sight, burying his face into your thigh. 

“Goddamn…” You hear him mutter as he continues using your body like a toy, dragging you onto him in a way that you don’t even notice in your cock drunk stupor. You hear a glorious groan escape his lips as he pulls out, painting your body with his creamy white cum. 

“Why’d you pull out?” You whine, completely spent and feeling woefully empty now that your bodies weren’t connected anymore. 

“You know why.” He exhales as his head hits the pillow beside you. “I refuse to let a child come into this.” You huff a little but feel too exhausted to argue.

Shuffling over, you test his boundaries by leaning your head against his shoulder. When he noticeably stiffens and backs away a little, you sit up hastily to face him. 

“Really, Anakin? You’re still not comfortable around me?” 

“I’m as comfortable as I need to be.” He murmurs and you let out a fussy whine. 

“I’ve just given myself to you entirely and you can’t even hold me after? Please, Ani, you’re making me feel really-“

“Fine! If it’ll get you to be quiet.” He pulls you in swiftly, his strong arm wrapped around you protectively and you let out a satisfied hum while he shakes his head- no doubt wondering how he got stuck with such a petulant child.

The days that followed were full of you waltzing around the ship, lost in your daydreams. Anakin had been dispatched to a different system for a mission and much to your displeasure, wouldn’t return for several days yet; you never knew exactly how long his journeys would last, you only knew they were doubtlessly too long. You missed him dearly - and if the way he hugged you back before he left was any indication- you were growing on him too. 

After enthusiastically getting through the book Anakin recommended, he told you that he’d left a stack out by his desk in the library- a personally hand-picked selection that he believed you’d enjoy. Your heart fluttered at the thought and you felt yourself keenly gliding over to it. You reminisced fondly about the way his soft hair felt when it brushed through your hands, how his dreamy eyes made you weak at the knees- how he had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen. You didn’t realise it was possible for someone to be so perfect- so what if he had an unsavoury pastime? It was a flaw you were willing to overlook if it meant you got to wake up next to that face. 

Entering the library, you hum a chirpy song and float over to the desk where you find a neat pile of books in varying colours and sizes. Just as you were about to pick the first one out of the stack, Silas rushes in- scruffy and disorganised, looking over his shoulder.

“Princess! Princess, you must hurry. They’re here- they’re finally here.” He sputters, grabbing onto your wrist like a madman and leading you out. 

“Slow down! What’s going on?” You question, wondering why you were running along with him. 

“Oh but we must be quick, the stormtroopers can only be held off for so long! Sabe is leading the distraction-“

“What are you talking about?” 

“Word finally reached them, they’re finally here!”

“Who? Who’s here?” You shout back, brain spinning in confusion.

“The Senate has sent an army - a rescue team for you!” Silas stares at you with crazed eyes, sweating with anxiety. “We can finally go home!” 

“W-what?” You stutter, allowing him to lead you out to the docking bay where you can see a battleship undoubtedly belonging to the Galactic Republic- suspended midair awaiting boarding.

“Wait, wait, no.” You backtrack but the grip Silas has around your wrist is too strong to easily break from. 

“You don’t mean to tell me you wish to stay here with that brute?” He glances back at you, face painted with disgust as he pushes on for the last few metres left until you reach the ship. “He doesn’t care about you.”

“That’s not true!” You shout, propellers buzzing over you with a furious intensity. 

“Is that so? Then why isn’t he putting up a fight right now?” He gestures behind you and you turn around to where the observatory window is. There he is, standing behind the glass, looking at you calmly. 

“Do you see? He doesn’t even care enough to stop you!” Silas digs his fingernails into your wrist as you reach the ship, doors unloading with a steamy hiss. “Get in!” He yells, pushing you forward with all his might. 

He’s letting you go. He’s letting you leave.

“No!” You fight back, striking Silas across the face and sprinting out of his reach as soon as his grasp on you loosens.

“You idiot! Stay here and rot with those Sith devils!” He curses, clambering up the stairs and smacking the handle, signalling for them to shut. Tears course roughly down your face as you stand back and see the ship ascending before darting off into the distance in a beaming flash. Turning around, you run as fast as your feet will carry you, scrambling up to the observatory to the man you’d just abandoned life as you knew it for.

Throwing the doors open, you see him: mouth parted, eyebrows raised and a singular tear rolling down his cheekbone. You jump into his arms, colliding and entangling yourself with him.

“Why did you do that, huh?!” He grabs your face with both hands, kissing you desperately. “Why would you do something so stupid?” You break out into a sob as he mumbles against your lips. “I would’ve let you go, you could’ve left.”

“I know, that’s why I stayed.” You wrap your hands around his own, still in a firm grip around your face. “I love you, Ani.” You gaze up at him with such adoration he feels his cold heart bursting. 

“I love you too.” 

As soon as the words leave his beautiful lips, you leap to kiss them- trying desperately to memorise every detail and every sensation that belonged to this moment. 

“I-I thought you would’ve surely left if you could.” He murmurs, struggling to break away from your lips. “Thought you were jus’ making the most out of a bad situation.” 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You say sincerely, hoping he could feel the love you have for him pouring out of you. 

“I don’t believe my eyes.” A dreaded raspy voice resonates across the room. “The Princess has fallen in love with my apprentice. And he seems to love her back? Now this is just precious.” Anakin stands in front of you protectively, pushing you back. 

“She will prove to be useful in the future.” The Emperor hisses, glaring at you with an empty hunger in his eyes. “Now that she has demonstrated her loyalty.”

“It’s the last show of loyalty you’ll ever see.” Anakin spits as he draws his lightsaber from the left belt hook on his robes and strikes Palpatine, beheading him in one swift motion before he can even register what’s struck him. 

“He always taught me that even the most powerful of enemies can be defeated-“ He turns to face you, retracting his glowing lightsaber. “with the element of surprise.” 

A twisted grin creeps up on your face as he swoops you up like a true bride- lifting you with a firm hold and carrying you out of the room while you wrap your arms around his neck, planting kisses all over.

“I think it’s high time me and my wife got some privacy, don’t you think?” He gestures at the incoming stormtroopers, who confusedly back away after spotting Palpatine’s decapitated body. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

You giggle as he carries you to your chambers, throwing you onto the bed and peering out of the large doors one last time before shutting them with a loud clamber- ah, free from disturbance at last.

@erinkeifer @crazy4men @mortalheartache @arzua10