#i fear that i am not the same person i was before his story dropped

[luminique]

Can we get big brother Lighter protecting little sister reader and keeping it secret how he's an Undefeated Champion to not worry her about what he had been doing

OH MY GOD ANON THIS WAS PRE-RELEASE AND SOMEHOW YOU PREDICTED THE FUTURE A LITTLE BIT ????

considering how lighter barely tells anyone about his plans, i believe that he’d do the same with his beloved little sister. he didn’t want her to be worried over him, even if he was bleeding away in some dingy corner of the ring.

he’d come back home with a new bruise, a new scar. but he still had that smile on his face, his calloused hands ruffling through your hair. he placed your favorite food on the table, something that you both could only eat every now and then.

as you both dig in, he’d constantly place more food on your plate. “you can only become as strong as me if you eat well,” his voice filled with pride as he watched you. he barely got a few bites in, believing that his empty stomach would go away as long as you were eating. he tried to keep the conversations between you two rather short, so as to not alarm you with how he was supporting the both of you.

if he wasn’t home for dinner, he’d try his best to be back before you’re asleep. he recalled the last time you stayed up waiting for him and he was only back in the early morning. seeing you asleep on the couch, probably watching the clock until your eyelids felt heavy. he carried you back to bed, your sleepy nonsensical scolding filled his ears. but he couldn’t forget how you called out his name as he was about to leave again for another match.

“will you be back for dinner?” you were as sweet as ever, only caring about his return.

“i’ll try to. don’t worry,” he reassured you, a gentle smile on his face as he pushed up his sunglasses.

your head perked up a little from the pillow, watching him turn his back towards you to face the door. “promise?”

“promise.” his voice faltered just a little, unnoticeable to you but he knew the truth. it hurts to have to lie to you about it, he wished he worked an honest job.

another opponent, another 0 added to the end of his earnings, another bruise, just another day. it was difficult to keep living like this, bad thoughts infiltrating his mind. as he slumped over the front door, he could hear you running up to the door, probably the soft jingling of his keys alerted you of his arrival. you opened the door, a wide smile on your face that was then replaced with horror upon seeing him.

there was blood running down the side of his face, an injury that he ignored in order to get back home in time. that look, that expression, the way you moved back a couple of steps as if you had just seen an ethereal. that was what made him realize that he should care for himself more too. seeing your fear shattered him more than he could imagine. he had already lost so much, he couldn’t bear to lose you all because of his own recklessness.

he walked up to you, removing his shades before falling to his knees. he rarely showed this side to you. his arms reached out for you, hugging you close to him. he didn’t want you to see this side of him. how weak he truly was, how much of a scaredy cat he was, how he had been lying to you this whole time to keep you happy. your hands ruffled through his dark teal hair, just like how he did with yours. if being the undefeated champion meant that you’d look at him like he was monster, then was he any different to one? apologies came out of him, tears welled up in his eyes.

after a moment of silence, you finally spoke up. “promise me, that you’ll be home safe tomorrow.” just tomorrow? that seems possible, he just had to win his next match cleanly.

“promise. i’ll be back here safely,” his voice was still shaky from the tears. he tried to muster up as much courage as he could but this time he couldn’t lie to you. he’ll try his best, to fulfill this promise he had made with you. even if it’s just tomorrow, he knows you want him to return in one piece every day but you both know that he can’t promise that. so you decide to take it one day at a time, one tomorrow after another. a new promise everyday, kept between the both of you.

[genshinluvr]

Disaster in Penacony

Pairings: Various Honkai Star Rail Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You and the Astral Crew (minus Nanook) go to Penacony! Things end up not going well on your end and a mysterious blond man (who works for the IPC) oh so generously offers you his hotel room! Little did you know, you won't have the best experience in Penacony as a newcomer.

Note: I haven't played HSR's story quests in a long time (I'm still in Penacony), so this fic is most likely awful. I will not continue writing any HSR fanfics until I am fully caught up with the game itself. Newer fics will be shorter since it's been a little over a year since I have written or posted any fanfics— baby steps. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: I'm not caught up with HSR, so this fic is most likely ass. Possible mischaracterization of the newer characters 😞

Word Count: 5.2k

You cling tightly to March’s arms as you and the rest of the Astral Express crew enter The Reverie in Penacony. While the hotel is beautiful, the multiple stories make you feel nauseous. You did not know that the hotel has so many floors. Some areas of the hotel don’t have any railing— or at least one high enough to prevent people from falling.

“Are you alright? You don’t look too good, [Y/N],” March says, walking farther into The Reverie Hotel.

You shake your head, shutting your eyes tightly. You’re not enjoying the fact that you’re somewhere really high up. March sighs sympathetically, rubbing your back as she guides you to where the others are standing. Mr. Yang and Himeko are talking to the lobby manager to check everyone in the hotel and make sure the information provided is correct. 

March pats your back, “[Y/N], look! We’re safe away from the edge! There is a stable ground, and everyone is safe and sound!” 

You peek from March’s shoulder, eyeing your surroundings warily. Dan Heng and Caelus walk over to you and March, looking at you worriedly. You didn’t stop clinging to March’s arm since arriving at the hotel lobby, refusing to let go of her arms. While you can cling to Dan Heng or Caelus, you opted for March because she was the closest person to you when the Astral Express arrived at Penacony. March guides you over to an empty chair in the hotel lobby and sits you down.

Dan Heng and Caelus stand before you, making sure to shield your view of the precarious drop of The Reverie Hotel. After what feels like forever, you finally release March’s arm and bury your face into your knees. Caelus sighs, patting your head while you try to collect yourself. You’re not a fan of heights, not even a bit. Sure, you go on rollercoaster rides from time to time, but this is different. 

While drowning in fear and misery, you hear footsteps approaching over to where you, March, Dan Heng, and Caelus are standing and sitting. You peek from your knees and stare at the ground, seeing familiar pairs of shoes come into your line of sight.

Mr. Yang sighs, “How is [Y/N] doing?” he asks.

“It's the same as before. They refuse to look up and have been attached by the hip with March since our arrival at The Reverie Hotel,” Caelus replies. “It’s a miracle March can drag them to this spot without them dying on the spot.”

Himeko giggles, walks over to where you’re sitting, and kneels before you, rubbing the back of your head. “You poor thing. Do you think you’ll be able to go to our hotel room once we have officially checked into the hotel?”

You peek up at Himeko, nodding. “Yeah! I can try! But I can’t promise anything, Himeko. Why does this hotel have so many floors?” You whisper.

Before Himeko can say anything, Dennis, the hotel lobby manager, approaches your group with a sheet of paper in his hand. “Mr. Welt Yang and Miss Himeko?” Dennis asks, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

Everyone looks at each other, confused and worried, before Himeko and Mr. Yang walk over to the lobby manager. After giving yourself an internal pep talk, you let out a long sigh before standing up. March gasps softly, covering her mouth with her hand as she watches you. Dan Heng rolls his eyes at March’s reaction while Caelus shakes his head, chuckling under his breath.

“What’s with the reaction, March?” Caelus asks, lightly tapping March upside her head. 

March grumbles and glares at Caelus while rubbing the back of her head. “Hey! Watch the hair! You’re so annoying, Caelus!” March stands up and brushes the dust off her clothes. “How are you feeling, [Y/N]? Still as anxious as ever?” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. There’s no use in freaking out over heights— you and everyone else are already at the hotel lobby, and everyone is going to their rooms soon. Once you arrive at your room, you should be fine and dandy! Then, you can shower and nap before being dragged who knows where. 

You smile at March, though it ends up being a grimace, “I’m okay for now, March. I just wish that Nanook was here with us.”

While everyone on the Astral Express is currently at Penacony, Nanook, unfortunately, cannot join you and the rest of the Astral crew. Why? Nanook said something about having to deal with an unspecified situation and didn’t want you to get involved. You’re grateful that Nanook didn’t want you to get involved, but you’re disappointed he’s missing out on being at an interesting place like Penacony. However, what Nanook’s definitely not missing out on was this damn hotel because why the hell does it have so many stories?

“It’s okay! Sometimes, you and Nanook need to be away from each other! It’s good for couples to take a break from seeing each other if they spend waaaaay too much time together!” March says, patting your back.

Dan Heng coughs and clears his throat. “They’re not dating, March. Just because they spend time together does not mean something is going on between them.” Dan Heng looks mildly miffed— almost like he wants to smack March for saying that out loud.

March raises her eyebrows at Dan Heng. “Oh, really? Then how come I heard them—” 

“March!!” You screech, lunging towards the girl and covering her mouth with both your hands while she struggles against your grasp. You smile at Dan Heng and Caelus awkwardly. You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel March lick your hand, trying to get you to release her. But you continue to cover her mouth while Dan Heng sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose while Caelus stares at you two in horror.

“Please behave in public, you two. Other guests of The Reverie Hotel are staring at us,” Dan Heng mutters, looking around the hotel as if he doesn’t know you and March.

You grunt and release March from your grasp after she elbows you in the gut. You wipe your hand on your pants and glare at March, who sticks her tongue out at you with a shit-eating grin. You grumble to yourself before looking over at Mr. Yang and Himeko. Himeko gestures for your group to walk over, but the look on her face makes you not want to go over there.

March leans over to you, “Are we in trouble?” She whispers.

You shrug and approach Himeko anyway, with Dan Heng, Caelus, and March following close behind. As you approach where Himeko, Dennis, the lobby manager, and Mr. Yang, you realize they’re in an almost heated discussion. Mr. Yang looks unhappy, almost stressed. You and the trio behind you trade glances with each other.

Dan Heng clears his throat, grabbing their attention, “Is there a problem?”

Dennis laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yes and no, but I’ll leave that to Mr. Yang and Miss Himeko to answer your questions,” Dennis says, taking a step back and gesturing to Mr. Yang and Himeko.

Everyone looks at Mr. Yang and Himeko anxiously. Caelus and March look at one another, knowing what’s about to come. It happened the first time they went to Penacony, and it’s most likely happening again, but this time, you and Dan Heng are present. 

Mr. Yang sighs, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Himeko places a hand on Mr. Yang’s shoulders and smiles at him as if she’s telling him that she’s going to be the one to tell you, March, Dan Heng, and Caelus what has happened. Although Mr. Yang is grateful for Himeko's wanting to explain the situation, he rejects the offer and gives the four of you a rundown of the situation.

Apparently, your information did not register in The Reverie Hotel’s system— like how it happened with Caelus in the past when they went to Penacony the first time. It’s strange how the same situation is being repeated, but this time, it’s happening to you. 

Dan Heng furrows his eyebrows, crosses his arms over his chest, and looks at Dennis. “Is it possible to book [Y/N] a spare hotel room in The Reverie Hotel?”

“No, it won’t be possible because all of the hotel rooms are completely booked,” Dennis replies, fumbling with his hands anxiously. “I apologize, but I have thoroughly checked the hotel’s system for Mx. [Y/N]’s information, and I cannot find anything in the system.”

You press your lips into a thin line before sighing in defeat. Perhaps this is your sign to return to the Astral Express. After all, you’re not fond of the design of the hotel. It’s beautiful, but the precarious heights make you feel queasy, and you don’t know how much longer you can stay in the lobby without spiraling. Plus, you miss your cabin and Nanook. 

You smile at Dennis and wave him off, “Oh, don’t feel bad! This is probably a sign for me to return to the Astral Express while everyone else stays and enjoys Penacony!” You’re getting ready to walk away from the group, but Caelus places both hands on your shoulders and drags you back to where you’re standing.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Mr. Yang says, nodding.

You nearly deflate at his response. It’s not like you didn’t want to stay in Penacony and enjoy a new environment! You don’t want to stay in The Reverie Hotel. You pucker your lips and nod, letting the group figure out another way to let you stay at the hotel. You sit on the arm rest of the couch in the lobby, staring at the red carpet of the hotel, zoning out.

A laugh captures your attention, making you look up to see a blond man approach you. He looks dazzling, almost luxurious. He takes his sunglasses off and lets them hang from his shirt. The blond man stops before your group, crossing his arms across his chest, and gazes at everyone with mirth. 

“Ah, so we’re having the same issues as last time, I see,” the blond man chuckles, shaking his head. “My, my, who do I have to give my room to this time?” He strokes his chin as his magenta and cyan eyes scan the group.

You freeze in your spot when you two lock eyes. For a split second, the blond man’s expression quickly changes before returning to the typical smugness he displayed earlier. Before he can say anything, a man and woman stand beside him. The new guests (?) have wings for ears… do they have ears? You slowly tilt to the side, trying to see if they have ears, but the man with grayish-blue hair narrows his eyes at you.

“Aventurine, Sunday, and Robin. What a pleasant surprise to see you three again!” Himeko says, smiling at the trio. 

Caelus leans to Dan Heng and March, “Is it really a pleasant surprise to see them? I mean, Robin, it’s good to see her again, but the other two?” Caelus mutters.

The blond man (Aventurine?) strides toward the nervous lobby manager, pulling him over to the desk while the grayish-blue-haired man and periwinkle-haired girl remain with your group. You can’t help but get this unsettling feeling in your gut. You squirm in your spot before getting up from the armrest and waddling over to where Mr. Yang is standing.

“What’s the matter?” Mr. Yang murmurs as you stand behind him and Himeko.

You shake your head, grabbing onto the back of his coat and looping your arm around Himeko’s arm. The man and woman stare at you— one being out of curiosity and the other being unreadable. The longer the grayish-blue-haired man stares at you, the more the unsettling feeling creeps over you. You can’t put your finger on it, but there’s something off about him. Other than the fact that he’s incredibly attractive, the angel wings for ears (does he have ears?) give him an illusion in a way— If that makes sense.

The periwinkle-haired girl approaches you, Mr. Yang, and Himeko. The gentle smile of hers puts you at ease, but the feeling is short lived when the grayish-blue-haired man stands beside her. The girl peeks from between Himeko and Mr. Yang, waving at you with the same sweet and gentle smile. Aeons, you can’t help but feel like a child meeting strangers for the first time.

“Hello! I’m Robin, and this,” she gestures to the stoic man beside her, “is Sunday, my brother! I see that you’re new to Penacony!” Robin looks ecstatic.

You nervously smile at Robin, debating whether you should come out from behind Mr. Yang and Himeko. “Hello, Robin and Sunday! It’s nice to meet you both! Please excuse me for my strange behavior. As you said earlier, I am new to Penacony and feeling overwhelmed.”

Robin’s eyes widen, giving you a sympathetic look. “Are you alright? I understand this is a new environment for you and all, but are you alright?” She takes a step closer.

The scary yet beautiful man beside Robin— his name is Sunday, holds his arm out in front of his sister, stopping her in her tracks. Robin looks at Sunday curiously as he continues to stare you down, almost as if he’s trying to read every part of you. From your facial expression to your body language— heck, maybe he’s trying to read your mind, too! Wait, can Sunday read your mind? He can’t, right?

Robin clears her throat, trying to grab Sunday’s attention. “Is there something wrong?”

Sunday lowers his arm and glances at Robin from the corner of his eyes before flashing a calm smile in your direction. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, and you can’t help but feel that he doesn’t necessarily like you. Maybe it’s all in your head, but who knows? “There’s no issue, dear sister. Although, I do not want you to startle our new guest here. They look overwhelmed,” Sunday says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Robin gives you another sympathetic smile before watching you get whisked away by Dan Heng and Caelus. While the trio (March, Caelus, and Dan Heng) are keeping you distracted from your fear of heights and the two good looking siblings, Mr. Yang and Himeko talk to Aventurine and Dennis a little longer. Robin and Sunday keep to themselves, occasionally talking with one another while not-so-subtly looking in your direction. 

After thirty minutes, Aventurine struts towards your group with a smug smile. “Due to a system error, I have decided to give you my hotel room,” Aventurine says, propping his hands on his hips while looking at you with his magenta-cyan eyes. “Come, come! I’ll show you where the room is!” Aventurine turns around and starts walking, gesturing for you to follow him. 

Aventurine graciously gives you a short tour around The Reverie Hotel. It’s beautiful, and you’re relieved that you didn’t have to be in an area where you’re very aware of the number of stories the hotel has. Walking past the VIP lounge, you can’t help but feel out of place, but you ignore the feeling and continue to follow after Aventurine with the others.

Needless to say, the hotel room is something you didn’t expect. There’s no bed, and there are more couches than beds. There is a seashell-looking bathtub—what is that, really? It’s filled with blue liquid, and bubbles are floating to the top. You turn to Aventurine, confused as hell. Aventurine chuckles and starts to explain everything to you and how things work in Penacony. Aside from the seashell bed bathtub thing, there’s no bathroom.

“— Does that make sense, Mx. [Y/N]?” Aventurine asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blink and clear your throat, nodding. “Yes, Mr. Aventurine.”

Aventurine smiles, shaking his head. “There’s no need to call me Mr. Aventurine. Mx. [Y/N]. Aventurine is just fine. We are friends, correct?” He raises his eyebrows at you, the corner of his lips curving into a tiny smirk.

“If that’s the case, then there’s no need for you to call me Mx. [Y/N], Aventurine.”

Aventurine throws his head back, laughing. Your face warms the more he laughs and pats your shoulder. Dan Heng, March, and Caelus look at Aventurine with an indescribable look. They look like they’re judging the blond man. What’s his job occupation again? He’s part of the IPC, correct? Should you even trust Aventurine..?

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to tend to. [Y/N], I hope you enjoy your stay at The Reverie Hotel and look forward to seeing you in the Dreamscape.” Aventurine winks at you before exiting the hotel room.

The Dreamscape, huh? One by one, each person leaves your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sit at the edge of the tub (what is that thing, though? It’s not a bed, that’s for sure) and stare at the glowing blue liquid. So, this thing is supposed to transport you to Dreamscape? It won’t hurt to try it out, right?

You dip your feet into the glowing tub before slowly submerging yourself. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to soothe your racing thoughts and heart. You slowly lose consciousness, drifting off to Dreamscape.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“We’ve been here for who knows how long, and there are still no signs of [Y/N]. Are you sure they’re in Dreamscape?” March demands, crossing her arms over her chest. “They’re not picking up my phone calls or text messages!”

Himeko places her hand on March’s shoulders, “I’m sure [Y/N] is in Dreamscape. After all, it’s quite large, and [Y/N] is probably exploring around.”

Before March can respond, she sees Welt, Dan Heng, and Caelus approach her and Himeko with new guests. March does a double-take and points at the new guests. Since when did someone contact these men? Unfortunately for you, Nanook isn’t with the group. “Poor [Y/N]... they’re going to be so disappointed that Nanook isn’t in Dreamscape with us. Can Aeons enter the Dreamscape?”

“Why did you bring an army of men to search for [Y/N]?” March huffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

Jing Yuan chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s good to see you again, March 7th. We were informed about [Y/N]’s sudden disappearance. How can we sit by and do nothing?” Jing Yuan asks, crossing his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at the pink-haired girl. 

The bustling city of Golden Hour is loud enough to deafen anyone who speaks. So, to be able to hear each other, Welt suggests going elsewhere to speak on the situation. Blade grumbles and glares at the person who bumps into him. The person stumbles out an apology before scurrying away.

Gepard clears his throat. “I can see why the assumption of [Y/N] getting lost is possible. Penacony is huge and lively.”

“Hey, this may sound like a craaaaazy concept, but why not stop by their hotel room at The Reverie Hotel before, I don’t know, check Dreamscape?” Sampo asks, brushing his fringe away from his eyes. 

Blade rolls his eyes, kicking over the advertisement sign. It flops over before scurrying around the group. Blade pulls out his sword, getting ready to hit the scurrying sign, but Luocha chuckles and stops him before he can pull his sword out. The sign continues to hop and mock Blade before running back to where it was previously.

Luocha hums, brushing his hair off his shoulders, and scans the lively environment. “Penacony is a strange yet interesting place. Perhaps [Y/N] got distracted by the things Penacony has to offer and ended up getting lost. I’m sure they’re fine.”

The large group continues to scour the area of Golden Hour, searching for the one important missing person who is not from their universe. The Penaconians and tourists from all over the galaxy walk past the group, muttering to themselves as they weave through Himeko and the others. Everyone is too immersed in Golden Hour to notice the distress the group is showing. Where in the world are you?

After searching high and low for your whereabouts, everybody is back at square one. Blade sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, wanting nothing more than to leave Penacony and its festive environment. Cars race by, and people are laughing and enjoying the Dreamscape. The environment can be overwhelming for newcomers. Perhaps you feel that way about Penacony and leave the Dreamscape without notifying the others about it.

“How are we sure that [Y/N] is still in the Dreamscape? Perhaps they never step foot in Golden Hour. Have you guys thought about that?” Blade asks, raising his eyebrows at the Astral Express crew.

“Huh, that could be a possibility…” Luka murmurs, stroking his chin. “How can we be sure if [Y/N] entered the Dreamscape?”

March groans loudly, running her hands through her hair, tempted to yank at the roots. “We can’t just keep standing here wondering where they are. We need to look everywhere for them because who knows what could have happened to them if we don’t search every nook and cranny!” March stomps her feet. 

Welt places a comforting hand on March’s shoulder, giving them a light squeeze. “Don’t worry, March. We will find them in no time.”

March sniffles, hugging herself. “How can I not worry about them? There are weird people here, and we can’t trust Sunday or Aventurine to find [Y/N] because they’re weirdos with weird intentions,” March grumbles, wiping the stray tear away.

Himeko walks over to March and pulls her into a hug. March buries her face in Himeko’s shoulders and hugs Himeko tightly. Everyone stands in silence, listening to the live chatter and cars driving in the background. It’s best for everyone to take a break from the search to clear their minds, or else they won’t be able to focus on the search.

Welt is sure that you’re safe somewhere in Penacony. The main issue is finding your exact location, and there is no way to reach out to you or pinpoint your exact location. Wherever you are in Penacony, everyone is determined to find you and bring you back to The Reverie Hotel before anything or anyone can get to you.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

You peek from the cement planter, staring at the monsters in horror. They perk up and look in your direction, only to see nothing of the sort. You hug your knees to your chest, slowly peeking from the corner. When you arrive in Dreamscape, you are greeted with monsters. It wasn’t pleasant in the slightest, and you ran for your life. Of course, because this is your first time in Penacony, you don’t know where you are going, and this is where you end up— hiding behind cement planters, praying for someone to save your ass. 

You reach into your pocket to call for someone, only to come to the realization that it most definitely fell out of your pocket as you’re running for your life. You hear a shout and something falling to the ground. You peek from the corner once again to see a tall man with brown hair kicking the absolute shit out of the mechanical soda dog and other creatures you cannot identify. 

“Goddamn, who is that fine ass man?” You gasp, covering your mouth.

The man adjusts his tie and rubs the back of his neck before yawning into his hands. His right arm is littered with scars, one of the buttons of his shirt looks like it can snap off at any second, and he has bags underneath his eyes. The mysterious man sighs, walking in your direction. You slowly stand up, checking your surroundings for possible monsters lurking nearby. 

“What are you doing out here alone? It’s not safe here,” The man says, crossing his arms over his chest.

You clear your throat. “I, uh, woke up here, actually! The last thing I remember, aside from running for my life, was going into one of those bed, bathtub pods thingy at The Reverie Hotel, and here I am.”

“Hm. So, you never woke up in Golden Hour?” 

You shake your head, earning a sigh in response. “I would contact my friends, but I dropped my phone while running for my life. So, there’s no way for me to contact my friends, unfortunately, and it’s most likely they’re at Golden Hour.”

“Well, since you’re, I’m assuming, new to Penacony, I’ll take you to Dreamjolt Hostelry. From there, I can contact your friends to come and get you.” The man says nonchalantly, gesturing to you to follow him.

You trail behind the tall beefy man, surveying your surroundings. It’s beautiful and also really high up. It’s probably almost as bad as The Reverie Hotel, but it’s outdoors. The man stops in his tracks and looks at you with an amused yet tired look. You stare at him like a deer caught in headlights, wondering why he stopped out of nowhere. 

“Is there a problem?” You ask, worried he might leave you stranded wherever you’re at. 

The man chuckles, shaking his head. “No, no! No problems at all! However, I never got your name. My name’s Gallagher. I’m a security officer for the Bloodhound Family, and you are?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you pretend to look at the beautiful sky. “My name’s [Y/N]! It’s nice to know the name of my savior,” you say, trying to cool yourself down. At a time like this, you still manage to find someone attractive no matter how close you come to death. 

He smirks, “[Y/N], huh? It's good to finally pin a name on that pretty face of yours. Now, follow me.” Gallagher starts walking.

You stare at his back, eyes wide. You fan yourself to get rid of the heat settling on your cheeks, but the more you try to do so, the more your face becomes warmer. You’re okay, and you’re safe— all thanks to the Bloodhound Family’s security officer. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Upon arriving at the Dreamjolt Hostelry, Gallagher tells you to make yourself a home, and that is what you do. You sit at the bar, nursing a drink Gallagher made for you— nonalcoholic, of course. Gallagher steps away from the counter to make a phone call to Mr. Yang. As you’re sipping your drink, you hear a soft sigh behind you.

“My, my. You’re over here nursing a drink while your beloved Astral Express family is searching high and low for you.” Aventurine chuckles.

You turn around to see Aventurine, Sunday, and some violet-haired man. Sunday smiles at you, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. You press your lips into a thin line, pushing the drink away. You want to look for Gallagher, but you’re worried that if you turn around, one of them is going to snatch you up before Gallagher can say “SoulGlad.”

The violet-haired man rolls his eyes. “Ignore this bumbling fool. I’m here to inform you that your friends— The Astral Express Crew— are on their way to your location. That Security Officer called to inform them of your whereabouts. Needless to say, they’re relieved to hear that you’re safe and sound and have brought guests along with them.”

You smile at the violet-haired man warily, “Thank you for letting me know, uh…”

“Veritas Ratio— Dr. Ratio.” Dr. Ratio bows politely.

You look at Aventurine, who’s now standing much closer to you. You take a step back and raise your eyebrows at the blond man. Geez, just when you thought you were going to make new friends in Penacony, you ended up being wrong. These men are giving you weird vibes, but not in a good way. It’s such a shame that they’re so pretty. Dr. Ratio, on the other hand, is the lesser of two evils (Sunday and Aventurine).

“If you three are thinking of putting your hands on [Y/N], I highly suggest you don’t, or else you’ll be dealing with something worse than the Astral Crew and their new guests,” Gallagher interjects, now standing beside you.

Sunday exhales through his nostrils, narrowing his eyes at the Security Officer. “And what are you implying exactly, Gallagher? You’re going to be the one to protect them?”

Gallagher shrugs. “I saved and protected them from harm earlier. What makes you think I can’t do it again? Oh, and I wasn’t implying myself,” Gallagher chuckles.

“What are you—”

A deep voice interrupts Aventurine. “WHERE ARE THEY?”

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you peek over Aventurine, Dr. Ratio, and Sunday’s shoulders to see a familiar person storming into the Dreamjolt Hostelry. Your eyes widen, and you look at Gallagher, who shrugs in response.

“Nanook, what are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t come to Penacony.” You squeak. 

The Aeon of Destruction’s glare softens upon seeing you. Nanook walks toward you, pushing past the three men, and grabs you by the waist before hoisting you over his shoulders. Just when Sunday’s about to say something, Nanook glares at the man, causing him to close his mouth and glare at the Aeon of Destruction. Nanook smirks and shakes his head, walking to the entrance of Dream Hostelry. At the entrance stands the Astral Express Crew and new guests from Belobog, the Xianzhou Luofu. Wait, who is that redhead?

“I see the Aeon has made it to them before we did,” The redhead sighs.

You gesture to the redhead, confused, “Who’s this?” You ask.

“My name’s Argenti. I belong to the Knights of Beauty. It’s a pleasure to meet you, [Y/N], despite such circumstances,” Argenti bows, “It’s a relief to see you are safe and unharmed.” 

You awkwardly smile at Argenti, still on Nanook’s shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Argenti! Though, I wish we could’ve met differently.” 

“Yer lucky Gallagher was able to find you. Yer friends were close to putting up missing person’s posters all over Penacony if they didn’t find you by the end of the day.” A man wearing a cowboy hat chuckles, shaking his head.

“And you are…?” You trail off, suddenly feeling drained from the introductions. How many people have you met today? Aventurine, Argenti, Dr. Ratio, Robin, Sunday, Gallagher.

The cyborg cowboy tips his hat forward, winking at you. “The name’s Boothill. A pleasure to be at  your service, Mx. [Y/N].”

Himeko chuckles. “Alright, everyone! That is enough for today! I’m sure all of you can introduce yourselves to [Y/N] back at The Reverie Hotel (Reality). Poor [Y/N] probably feels drained from today and needs rest, isn’t that right?” Himeko looks at you. 

Nanook shakes his head. “We will be returning to the Astral Express, which is much safer for them. They can return to Penacony whenever, but I do not want them staying at the hotel.” Nanook states, glaring over at Aventurine, Sunday, and Dr. Ratio. 

Before anyone can interject, Nanook walks away with you still over his shoulders. You lay limp on Nanook’s shoulders, closing your eyes. You can’t wait to return to reality. Being chased by unknown creatures of Penacony sure did a number on you. You can’t wait to relax and sleep on a real bed with Nanook at the Astral Express. 

Note: Now that I got that out of the way, I am finally free!! I had this idea on my mind for a while and it was driving me crazy. I don't really like how this fic turned out, to be honest. Lowkey tempted not to post this, but I'll post it anyway since it's been a while. Next week's fic will not be Isekai'd!Reader fanfics for both Genshin and HSR. It'll be a commissioned fanfic instead, so that's going to be different. I'm going to try to post two fics a week in the future, but idk when. Anyway! To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for this fic: Will not be tagging people in fics for now— at least for this fanfic

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^

[bloodlineslut]

Conjugal Visit | Roman Reigns

Images/GIFs aren’t mine, credits to rightful owners.

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! oc

Warnings: flashback of threatening assault, smut, oral (female receiving), slight (a little more than slight) daddy kink, fluff

Summary: Jada thinks she’s just going to visit her man while he’s doing his time in jail for assaulting this man who wouldn't leave her alone. Little does she know, he has a surprise when she gets there…

Word Count: 1.9k words

A/N: Hey my baes! This is my first story/one shot so please take it easy on me lmao. I’m sure as I keep writing, it’ll get better. I am so open to constructive criticism though. Yall PLEASE go easy on me abeg. okay enjoy!! please comment if you like it :))

As Jada drove down the road that seemed to never end, she could hardly contain the nerves and butterflies that were erupting in her stomach. Before leaving her apartment, she decided to put on her pink Skims Long Slip Dress, paired with a baby pink bolero, and a pair of platform UGGs.

Every day Jada wishes that it was the day Roman was coming home. She would always tell him that he needed to go to anger management counseling or something, but he constantly shrugged her off. Then one day at the grocery store, this creepy older white man kept hitting on Jada, so Roman stepped in.

“Aye man. Who are you?” Roman firmly asked the older man, and looking down at him as he was much shorter.

The man confidently looked up at Roman and even puffed his chest out a bit. Before he could even get a word out, Roman grabbed him by his shirt collar with both hands and roughed him up a little.

The older man’s eyes widened, now in fear of this huge Samoan man.

“She’s my woman. Now, I heard her tell you ‘bout three times that she wasn’t interested. Are you hard of hearing?” Roman was getting more irritated by the second, as Jada could tell by him scrunching his face.

“Sir, I- I didn’t know.” The man pleaded to Roman.

Roman pulled the man closer to his face and tightened his grip on his shirt. “Oh you didn’t know? You really wanna get yo’ ass beat huh?”

As Jada looked away, a bit embarrassed, she saw two police officers looking at them. This included Roman clearly threatening this old man. “Umm, Roman?” She gently tapped his shoulder.

“What baby?” He asked, still staring daggers into his victim.

Jada just pointed at the officers and her silence prompted Roman to follow her line of vision. A sudden realization hits Roman and he smacks his teeth and drops the creepy pervert.

Long story short, the man pressed charges and Roman was sentenced to 90 days in jail.

Thinking about the whole process that happened, Jada zoned out and arrived at the jail quicker than she realized. She quickly found a parking spot in the visitors lot and made sure to only grab her keychain that held her car/house keys and a little card holder, leaving her purse and phone under the passenger seat.

She stepped out of her car and made her way to the building to get searched and to check in for the visit.

Jada was actually nervous to see Roman. They usually talk on the phone more than physically seeing each other in person. In a lot of ways, hearing his voice made her miss him even more.

“Ms. Williams, you’re up next to visit inmate Reigns. Follow me.” A guard’s voice rang throughout the waiting room. Jada quickly got up and walked up to him, expecting to go the same route as usual.

The guard seemed to be going a different way than usual. She didn’t want to be rude, so she politely asked him if they were going the right way. It felt shady.

“Um, officer? Is this the way to visitation?” She asked from behind his moving figure. The officer led them to a part of the jail that seemed deserted.

“Oh yeah.” He said matter-of-factly. They finally came upon a silver steel door with no window and the officer knocked three times before opening the door for Jada. She was so confused that she didn’t even recognize the 6’3” man with tribal tattoos in a khaki uniform sitting with his back to her.

“Roman?” She softly said. The sound of her voice made him perk up and he stood up to physically take her in.

“Jada…” He breathed out her name in awe, walking up to her. He quickly dapped up the guard who helped him get the private, “conjugal” visit. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. You only got 1 hour though.” The guard said, then left and closed the door before locking it.

Roman focused his attention back on the beauty in front of him. He picked her up in a hug and spun her around before giving her a deep and slow kiss.

Roman slipped his tongue into Jada’s vulnerable mouth and walked them both over to the bunk bed in the corner of the room, laying her down on it.

When he pulled away from her soft lips, Jada slapped his arm. “Roman, how in the world did you set this up? Can’t you get in troub-”

“Shhh. Don’t worry about that, baby. I’m good with that officer.” He tucked some of her curly hair behind her ear. The gesture made her smile. She missed his touch so much.

Jada’s hand went to Roman’s face, caressing it, and he smiled, showing his dimples and beautiful smile. “Roman, I miss you so much.” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth and laid a kiss there.

“I miss you too princess. I think about you every day. Listen…when I get out of here, I’mma go to that anger management class. And I want you to be there with me.” He gently says to her.

Hearing Roman finally say that he would try to get help made Jada’s heart swell. Even though he was never violent towards her, she wanted to help him with controlling his anger towards other things and people.

“Babe…of course I’ll be there with you…” Jada says lovingly. Roman leans in for another kiss, their lips moving in sync. The kiss soon turned heated and sloppy. Roman’s lips left Jada’s and trailed to her jaw, then to her neck.

As Roman kissed her neck, his large hand went to her waist, feeling the curves he missed so much. He sucked on her neck, knowing there would be hickeys later.

Jada’s hands came to rest on his shoulder blades and tugged on his khaki shirt. He took this silent signal to take it off, leaving his white wife beater on, which seemed to amplify his tribal tattoo that ran up his arm and covered half of his chest.

She noticed that he seemed…bigger. She squeezed his arms, even more turned on and bit her lip. “Babe. Oh my-you’re so sexy.”

This made Roman chuckle. “Yeah? You want more?” His deep voice dropped an octave as he took off his wife beater, now completely bare up top. Jada ran her fingers over his well-defined abs that seemed to glisten even under the fluorescent lights.

His hands went to her feet and slid off her UGGs, placing them on the floor. Then he pressed kisses on her feet and saw that she had perfectly manicured white toenails. His hands went under her dress, sliding against her thighs, and scrunched her dress up to rest on her waist.

Jada spread her legs for him, feeling herself get more wet. Roman kissed up her thighs after placing each one to rest over his broad shoulders. He didn’t even take her panties off, just moved them to the side before licking a slow stripe up her wet pussy.

He sloppily made out with her pussy, mixing his spit with her juices. Jada was moaning, but Roman could tell she was holding back. He moved his mouth away from her core. “No, baby let it out. Lemme hear how good it feels.”

He placed his tongue back directly on her clit, flicking it tender and slow, then in long circles.

“Mmm…fuck Ro,” Jada moans out, louder this time as usual. Hearing her moans made his dick harder than steel. As he kept eating her out, he tugged the neckline of her dress down to expose her tits and kneaded them in his hands, rolling her hard nipples between his fingers.

She was so wet, it was seeping down her crack and onto the bed. Roman felt her legs start shaking a little. “Fuck, baby. Nut on my tongue, come on.” He told her then went right back to stimulating her clit, faster this time.

Jada chased her orgasm, feeling that knot about to burst in her lower abdomen. Her back arched and she sucked on her own fingers as she came undone on Roman’s tongue. He let her come down from her high, her juices all in his thick beard.

He kissed her, letting her taste herself from his mouth. Roman pulled his pants down just enough to free his throbbing, thick cock. One of his large hands went to it, slowly stroking himself as he looked at the love of his life.

“You gonna cum like that again on this dick?” His husky voice asked her. She wanted it so bad that it hurt.

“Yes Daddy..” She slyly said then giggled. Roman laughed and then rubbed the head of his dick up and down her pussy, and then forced out a long trail of spit that landed just in the right spot.

He slowly pushed into her tight, wet pussy, feeling her walls squeeze the life out of him damn near.

After Jada adjusted to his size again, there was no stopping them now.

She was now on all fours, back arched and her ass in the air. “Ooh Daddy, you fuck me so good!” She said in between moans.

Roman’s grunts didn’t go unnoticed. “Yeah? Tell me how good that dick feels in you baby.” He said and slapped her ass.

“Yesss! Fuck, it feels so good. It’s in my stomach,” Jada tells him, not ever wanting it to end. He changed the angle he was hitting it and found her G spot, stroking against it over and over with powerful thrusts.

Roman looked down at her ass that moved with each of his thrusts and saw her creaming on his girthy dick, and dripping down her thighs. “Damn. Yeah, cream on me just like that.” He threw his head back in never ending pleasure, trying not to bust too quick.

Jada started fucking him back, meeting his hips with her own, making her ass clap and the sound resonate through the empty room. There was an even bigger knot forming in her abdomen and she chased it again.

“Cum on Daddy’s dick, princess. Show me you want that nut.” Roman coaxed her and not even 2 seconds later, Jada’s legs were shaking, and she pressed her face into the bed.

That’s what Roman loved about Jada coming on his dick. She didn’t need a break. After her orgasm she was right back to taking his slow, meaningful thrusts.

“Mmm, Daddy please cum in me.” She looked at Roman over her shoulder. She silently applauded herself for taking her birth control before she drove here.

His hands tightened on her waist and ass while he focused on his pleasure. “That pussy gripping me so tight baby...” His moans got louder, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Oh fuck, I’m ‘bout to cum,” Jada feels his hot load inside of her and he moans in her ear. When he comes down, he slowly pulls out of her and flips Jada on her back. They were both glistening because of sweat. He gives her a tender kiss.

“I love you with all my heart, Jada.” He says, still trying to catch his breath.

“I love you, Roman.” She tells him and they cuddle, trying to enjoy what little time they have left before the guard comes knocking on the door to get them.

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 3

Masterlist taglist

Hard conversations and 1st meal with the Omegas.

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl

There was one open seat left in the living room. An oversized, overstuffed chair. I moved around the others, not missing the way they leaned towards me to sniff as I passed by. I wanted to hug myself and hide. It was very weird to be sniffed so openly.

Felix sat close to Chan, still not looking up. Chan had an arm over his lap.

“Anyone here not completely convinced y/n is their Alpha? Our Alpha?” Chan asked.

I looked around the room, no one spoke up or raised their hand.

"None of the other Alphas even came close to smelling like her. My instincts are going crazy right now.” Hyunjin confirmed.

"Hey Chan.” I spoke saccharine sweet.

“Yeah?” He replied.

“I hate you.”

"No, you don’t. You’re just being dramatic.”

"My life is over! I’m allowed to be dramatic!

Chan just rolled his eyes, ignoring my entire fucking crisis. I wanted to scream, cry, and punch him all at the same time.

"Hyung, you said you were going to explain.” Changbin reminded.

And so, Chan went on to tell everyone all about his quick trip to my small town and the deal that was made. It occurred to me that I never planned beyond the week. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be the one to be able to bond with them. So, I made no plans on what to do next. If I should do anything.

“So, you’re not going to bond us?” Seungmin asked when Chan was finished.

They were all looking at me again, making me feel incredibly self-conscious. “I didn’t plan on this actually working.” I was the only response I would truly, honestly give them. I didn’t know what to do now.

"She is going to be here for the week. No one is going to bug or pressure her to stay beyond that.” Chan warned. “Let JYP and I discuss it with her.”

And I’m sure there will be a lot of discussions. A lot of promises made. Guilt trips. I would get it all.

"So, nothing’s been solved. We are still just as screwed as ever.” Lee Know sounded angry and I looked at my lap knowing this was all because of me.

I stood up. “Maybe I should go-“ I pointed a thumb at the door.

“No!” The response was immediate and from every Omega in the room, making me blink.

Han reached and grabbed my forearm. “You promised a week.” He reminded. His chemo signals smelled of anxiety and fear.

“To a hotel. I was going to say to a hotel.” I finished. I had meant to suggest the hotel to give them time to discuss this without me.

“We can’t guarantee no one will smell your subgender in a hotel. It’s not safe.” Cahn reminded gently.

I let my head fall back before I dropped into a crouched ball and hid my face in my knees and arms, tears threatening behind my eyes. Everything was so messed up now.

I felt someone crouch next to me and start to rub my back, but I didn’t look to see who.

"You guys know how dangerous it can be for an Alpha nowadays.” Chan started talking again, softly. “We have heard horror stories from almost every Alpha we’ve tried. y/n has been hiding her subgender with suppressants. Even coming here is a huge risk for her. Let’s all keep that in mind.”

There was a heavy thump on my upper arm that I assumed was the person rubbing my back resting their forehead on me. The contacts made me feel better.

They showed me to what appeared to be a guest bedroom. There were faint scents of other Alphas so this must have been made up specifically for potential bonding Alphas. It even has its own bathroom. It just reminded me again what I am really here for.

I sighed and bid them goodnight, shutting the door with no plans to actually sleep. I was on an opposite sleep schedule then them. And I slept on the plane not too long ago.

By the end of the week, I’ll be on the same sleep schedule as them, only to go home and repeat the whole process all over again.

Instead, I stripped off my clothes and ran a nice hot bath. Grabbing my phone and a book I brought I slowly settled into the water, hoping for a relaxing time reading and doom scrolling to pass the night.

I did manage a few hours of sleep near dawn. Hopefully enough to get me through the day. I was awake and dressed for the day when Chan knocked on my door. I bid him enter.

“Um, breakfast is ready.” He informed. He looked unsure.

I nodded. “I’ll be right out.” I needed a moment to gather the strength and courage to face everyone again. My dream of meeting Stray Kids has turned into a nightmare.

But instead of leaving, Chan stepped in and shut the door. I watched him in question.

"I wanted to apologize for last night. Things did not go like any of us planned.”

I snorted softly. That was an understatement. “It’s fine, Chan. I just-I don’t know what to do now.” I admitted.

He smiled sadly and nodded. “Well, you have all week to figure it out. In the meantime, just enjoy your time here.”

I followed Chan out to the table where everyone was sitting in varying stages of being awake. I sat at an empty chair between Seungmin and I.N, noticing no one had started eating yet. I wondered what they were waiting on.

When I was settled I.N started putting food on my plate for me. Heavy on all the best stuff. Then he sat back, and everyone looked at me. I blinked not knowing what they wanted.

“You have to start eating.” Han whispered helpfully from across the table.

“Why?” I whispered back. I was the only one with food, it would be rude to eat in front of them.

“You’re Alpha.” He said it like that explained everything.

“It’s an instinct thing. Just take a bite.” Seungmin sounded exasperated with the whole thing.

So, I picked up my chopsticks and took a bite. As soon as I did, they flurried into motion, filling their own plate and eating. Then I realized what happened. It finally clicked into place.

Their Omega instincts wouldn’t let them start eating until their freaking Alpha did. I felt sick to my stomach suddenly and set my chopsticks down.

I stayed at the table only because if I left it would have upset them, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat another bite. If any of them noticed, they didn’t bring it up. Instead, they talked amongst themselves, pretty much ignoring me entirely now that I did what they needed.

Slowly they all finished and left the table to start their day, leaving the dishes, leftovers, and me alone at the table. My eyes pricked with tears again as I started to gather dishes to clean up.

This is what they expected from their Alpha. Follow them around the world, take care of them, clean up after them, fulfill their instinctual needs. If I stayed, that’s what I had to look forward to at “home”. Meanwhile, their managers would shape me into the idol Alpha that can be seen with Stay Kids and make them money.

I put away the food, did the dishes, wiped the table, and swept the floor all in silence. While I did, I could hear the 8 Omegas going about their day. A small group was in the living room playing games. Some were in their rooms; doors open but doing their own thing. They were loud, yelling at each other from different rooms. Chaotic as they enjoyed their days.

With nothing else to do I set up my laptop at the table, put some headphones in, and logged into work. I would get an email from my boss later since I was supposed to be on vacation, but it was after hours back home, so he wouldn’t know for hours yet, and I needed a distraction.

There wasn’t so much a lunch as people made something to eat when they were hungry, so I was spared being used as an Alpha for the moment. I had a feeling dinner would not be the same story.

Not even one of them spoke to me all day. Ignored my presence as if I was a lamp or coffee table, only interacting with me when they needed me.

“You’re stinking up the room.” Lee Know complained as I.N filled up my dinner plate.

I had been in my own depressing thoughts as I stared at my plate. Instead of answering him I took a bite of food and chewed as they all loaded their dishes.

I was once again left with clean up.

As I was washing dishes, the doorbell rang. Assuming someone would get it, I kept washing. The bell rang again a minute later.

“Someone get the door!” Seungmin yelled.

I sighed as I dried my hands as I walked over to the door. It was JYP. “Chans in the living room.” I informed him as I went back to the dishes.

But he followed me instead. “They already have you doing chores, huh?” He joked.

I tried to smile, but my lips wobbled dangerously so I quickly looked away, back to the dishes. “Just doing my job. An Alpha takes care of their Omegas. Even prospective ones. However temporary.”

That’s right. This was only for the promised week. I didn’t have to stay. They weren’t my Omegas. 1 week, and my end of the bargain was fulfilled. Just play their game.

Since I was avoiding looking up from the dishes, I was startled when JYPs hand entered my vision, gently taking the sponge. I looked over. He had rolled his sleeves up to the elbows.

“Let me help. You can dry.” He said gently.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb

[arctickat2400]

Left Behind ∞ Damon Salvatore

Damon Salvatore x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,252

Request: Idk if you’re accepting requests but I really love the things you write so here I am! Could you please write some Damon Salvatore x female reader? Something with a lot of angst and comfort, I was thinking of something around the time when Damon finds out that his mother is alive and she just chose to leave him behind when he was a little kid, just searching for some comfort in the reader please? 

Notes/Warnings: Quote from show (not my quote - credit to show), violent outbursts (no one gets hurt physically), comfort, Damon is 178 like in the show, I wrote it from the top of my head without many notes so proceed with caution (lol)

* * * *

The sound of glass shattering against the wall prompted you to drop your book and rush downstairs to see Damon pacing around the living room, his hands pulling at his hair in frustration. 

“Damon, what happened? What’s going on?” You shuddered at the sight of your distressed boyfriend. Damon turned to you, looking back on the conversation he never wanted to remember ever again. 

“You look exactly the same as you did 172 years ago.” Was the first thing Damon said the moment he laid on his very much alive mother. All this time he thought she was dead. Turns out, she’s been alive and never came to find him.

“I have a really good skin-care routine,” Lillian deadpanned. 

“After all this time, why’d you never come back for us sooner?” Damon wondered, fearing the answer. Why else would she have stayed away for so long?

“Because, Damon, I never wanted you in the first place. I chose to leave because I had more important matters to attend to,” Lillian admitted as if it was the most normal thing to say to a person. Damon felt like a dagger had pierced right through his heart. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The person who he thought left because they had no choice had actually left because they wanted to. The person who he thought loved him the most never really loved him at all. 

“She walked out on me. That’s all there is to it,” Damon confessed like it was nothing before he turned without another word and walked out the door. 

Your heart broke for the love of your life. You knew what he was talking about. Just a few hours ago, Damon had left after finding out his mother was alive. He’d told you where he was going and was gone within seconds. You hadn’t known when to expect him back, but you knew something was seriously wrong the moment you heard the glass shatter. 

You sighed, deciding to give him some space. You took a broom from the hall closet to clean up the glass and a towel to wash up the splattered bourbon. Throwing the towel in the wash and the glass in the trash, you strolled outside to find your boyfriend. 

“What’re you doing?” You found Damon sitting on the front steps of the Salvatore House. You leaned against the doorframe behind him, crossing your arms over your chest, waiting. All you wanted to do was be there for him, listen, and make sure he knows he’s not alone in his sorrows. 

“Looking at the stars, listening to the Universe laugh at me.” Damon expressed nonchalantly. He couldn’t believe that after all these years, his entire life, he believed that his mother was dead, that she left not of her own will. He guessed he didn’t know his mother as well as he thought. All the stories he was told, lies. It wasn’t that she had to go. He was just unwanted, left behind. 

You move from inside to walk down the stairs and sit on the grass in front of Damon. You sat with a bit of room in between you both, knowing about Damon’s random outbursts. You sit with your legs stretched out in front of you, one crossed over the other with your hands intertwined in your lap as you gaze up at him. Your expressed was filled with many emotions: adoration that never ceases for your darling boyfriend, worry for what was going through his head and what he was going through, concern for what he might do in response to this horrible, heartbreaking news he just discovered, and patience in waiting to take care of him in any way possible. 

“How could I be so stupid?” Damon howled, raising his voice suddenly, standing in exasperation. You jumped slightly, but not enough for him to notice. “I mean, I really thought-” He paused, cutting himself off with a defeated chuckle. It was no use, he figured. Why grieve over someone who never grieved him? He’s spent his entire life doing so. Now that he knows the truth, there was no point in continuing. 

Damon bowed his head in defeat, sighing, and you gazed up at him with an expression of sweet sympathy. He stood there on the stair step, one hand placed on his hip and the other on the back of his neck as he contemplated. 

He looked up at you, then. You waited for his reaction, watched for his next move. What you didn’t expect, though, was when Damon descended the last few stairs and stopped in front of you. He gestured for you to spread your legs before he turned and placed himself between them. He reclined back to lay his head on your lap and you leaned back on one hand while guiding your fingers to brush through his hair comfortingly. 

“I’m sorry,” Damon apologized to you, gazing up into your eyes. Although, he had nothing to apologize for. “I didn’t know what to think when I heard she was alive. And when she told me she-” But you couldn’t let him go on. You could see the gears spinning in his head, the struggles and the negative thoughts. You knew what he was thinking. They were thoughts that were certainly not new to your empathetic ears, and they were thoughts that you always tried your hardest to apprehend, to keep them from his mind, to make sure he knew they weren’t true.

“Shh,” You placed your finger over his lips gently, locking eyes with a sweet smile. You brush your hand over his cheek, stroking your thumb over his forehead soothingly. “It’s okay, baby. I hate that you had to go through that. She had no right to do what she did. She was never meant to be a mother if she felt it was okay to leave behind such a precious little boy. But I need you to know that even when you feel alone, I will always be here. I will never leave you behind because I love you and I always will,” You smiled down at him. 

Damon didn’t think he could love you more than he did at this moment. He wanted to engrain this moment in his mind. He wanted to memorize everything about you because it was you that made this moment so special. You were so human, so mundane, the way you touched him so gently, the way you didn’t care about a single thing because all you wanted to do was make sure he was okay. He knew that with you, he would be. 

Damon flipped himself over and lifted himself up onto his hands and knees as he gently guided you to lay down beneath him. He moved up to hover over you, placing his hand on your cheek with the most love filled gaze in his eyes. He bent down and pressed a passionate kiss to your lips until you could feel all the love and appreciation he felt for you. 

“You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I hope you know that,” Damon chuckled sweetly, his forehead leaning against yours. Who knew he could be so soft?

Damon slid back down to lay between your legs again. He placed a kiss on your tummy before laying his head there, wrapping his arms around your waist. You tangled your fingers in his hair while Damon revels in the comfort he finds in your embrace. 

[sanjisboyfie]

✘ keep safe : ⁶⁶⁶special ✘

link to original story these one shots/headcanons are based off of <3

a/n : some of the straw hats have longer one shots with [name], sorry </3 it's just some of them i was much more inspired to play around with than others, but I STILL LOVE ALL OF THEM PLEASE. i think it just proves i can flesh out and deepen the relationships [name] has with each straw hat some more!!! which i plan to do in the future :D anyway, this is sosososo late considering we are at 700+ hearts??? help i have no idea how or why there are so many people that are invest3ed in this silly story, but i really want to say thank you. i have been gone for so long and i know i've probably lost a lot of my original support, which i understand, but to those that stuck around: i really hope to not disappoint you in the future. i am so grateful to everyone that has showed me support - on so many different platforms too T.T THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE and i hope you enjoy 

lmk which one you enjoyed the most too !!! i would love to hear any feedback and any comments you guys have <3 love u all sooo much thank u for reading :) 

+ there are some lore drops in here too so make sure to read carefully hehe!!! consider it an apology from me LMAO for my terribly extended disappearance. 

wc : 17k+ ... strap in ..

monkey d. luffy - piel canela by los panchos

"que se quede el infinito sin estrellas, o que pierda el ancho mar su immensidad, pero el negro de tu ojos que no muera. y el canela de tu piela se quede iguel. si perdiera el arco iris su belleza, y las flores su perfume y su color, no seria tan immense mi tristeza comon aquella de quedarme sin tu amor. me importas tu, y tu, y tu, y solamente tu, y tu, y tu. me importas tu, y tu, y tu, y nadie mas que tu." // "may the infinite be left without stars, or may the whole wide sea lose its immenseness. but may the blackness of your eyes never die. and may the cinnamon of your skin stay the same. if the rainbows were to lose its beauty, and the flower their perfume and their color. my sadness wouldn’t be as immense as that from being left without you love. what matters to me is you, and you, and you. and only you, and you, and you. what matters to me is you, and you, and you, and no one else, but you"

[name] would do anything to ensure that a smile stayed on luffy’s lips.

the unthinkable things he would never say out loud in fear of scaring people away, that he would do to make luffy happy. the unimaginable pain he would bring onto others if it meant that luffy’s joy and dreams were protected.

he would do anything for luffy.

the entire world could collapse around the two them, but [name] would only be looking into luffy’s wonderous brown eyes the whole time. there was a different sense of adoration that [name] held for luffy, one unseen by many and unknown by more. in fact, the only person in the world that could begin to comprehend how serious [name] was in ensuring luffy’s happiness could be ace.

a part of that reason was because of how ace had seen first hand what [name] was willing to do in order to protect those he loved, and the man with h/c hair definitely did love luffy. and secondly, it was because a part of that ideology in [name] lived in ace. wholeheartedly, the two men would do anything in a heartbeat for luffy.

as [name] woke up, he was greeted by luffy’s scent surrounding him. and yes, it was a pleasant scent. ever since [name] joined the crew, luffy and him would bathe together, so [name] was making sure that the man was smelling clean and fresh every night before bed. which is why the smell of the sun that luffy usually radiated was wiped away and replaced with his natural smell (which, ironically, still held a tinge of the sun).

the natural smell that radiated from his captain could only be explained as mimicking the smell of meat, but also, a certain amount of sweetness. and, genuinely [name] hated sweets, but when it was something that naturally came from luffy, he couldn’t bring himself to so vehemently hate it as much as he usually does.

he smiles to himself as he imagines the reason why luffy has a hint of sweetness to his scent is because of his natural instinct of being a kind person. he sighs in content, wrapping his strong arms around luffy’s waist and basking in his presence. he had waited years to be able to do this, just hold luffy again, so each time he could, he never failed to hold him close and hard. to ground himself in reminding himself that luffy was truly with him and wasn’t going anywhere.

as he was shamelessly cuddling into luffy’s side, the man “trapped” in his arms subconsciously welcomed the affection. since he was still sleeping, luffy wasn’t truly aware of his own actions. his arms and legs were moving on their own, wrapping several times over around [name]’s waist and legs to bring him impossibly closer.

as [name]’s chin rested on top of luffy’s messy raven hair, he smiled at the feeling and squeezed luffy back.

this only made luffy smile in his sleep and cuddle closer to his favorite person.

and it was the quiet moments like these where [name] really does come to terms that he would do anything, genuinely anything, to keep luffy safe and happy.

it was a quiet morning, surprisingly. ace was still snoring away in the corner and luffy’s head was resting soundly on [name]’s lap. a bandaged hand was going through his black hair and a soft tune was audibly coming from the man.

“hnnggg, [name] it’s too bright,” luffy whined, cuddling his face into [name]’s thighs to hide away from the sunlight that was seeping into the treehouse.

“that’s called the sun, luffy,” [name] grinned, lightly pinching the rubber man’s cheek. he only whined louder, hugging [name] so tight the man’s air was practically cut off.

“we should go fishing today,” luffy suggested out of nowhere, eyes still closed. “since you’re still healing, i can do all the fishing and you can watch,”

“i don’t know if i wanna spend my morning watching you fish, luffy,” [name] joked, making luffy childishly whine about how mean he was being. “should we go now? so when ace wakes up, he has some food,”

“but i’m tired…” luffy breathed out, shuffling to prop himself up on his palms to properly face [name], “let’s be sure to leave quietly so he doesn’t wake up,”

and suddenly luffy was standing up and full of energy, even though he just claimed how tired he was.

the supplies were gathered and they both jumped from the treehouse to the ground with ease. the moment they began walking to the stream, luffy was draped over [name]’s back and cuddling into him.

“ace always hogs you, y’know,” luffy commented, his eyebrows furrowed in displeasure. “it’s not fair when i was your friend first,”

[name] chuckled at luffy’s words, finding them both endearing and funny.

“it feels like such a long time ago,” [name] said fondly, throwing an arm around luffy’s frame and holding him close. with their difference in size, it was easy to keep luffy so near to him.

“hm, i guess, but i remember it,”

“then i’ll take your word for it. maybe you should bring it up to ace when we see him,” luffy hummed with his head held high, seemingly very determined to seriously put ace in his place over such a trivial matter.

as they were walking through the forest, [name]’s eyes caught a glimpse of something big and shiny resting on a tree trunk. it clicked immediately what it was and he, unfortunately, had to detach himself from luffy.

the younger one whined, but then he also saw what it was that caught [name]’s eyes. and only then did he let out a yell of happiness. he began shaking [name]’s arm back and forth, a wide grin on his face.

and in unison, the two boys exclaimed, “a hercules!!!”

luffy clapped his hands as his eyes sparkled and turned into stars. and seeing such a joyous expression on his face, [name] didn’t hesitate in handing over the beetle to luffy.

“hold onto him lu, we can bring him with us on our adventure,” he spoke softly, smiling at the way luffy’s smile only stretched further.

“he’s so cool, [name]! look at his horn!” luffy exclaimed, placing his hand into [name]’s awaiting one and not wasting a second before swinging their arms back and forth, “he’s so cool, thanks for giving him to me!”

despite [name] never allowing luffy to “claim” the bug that he had found, he wasn’t going to object. seeing how happy it made luffy was enough to make him give up on any possible objections that he could have had.

it had been a couple hours since [name] properly woke up, leaving luffy a slumbering mess in their hammock.

now to fill his time, [name] was watching the ocean sway and move with a bored look on his face. sometimes, if he were bored, he’d force the waves to move to his liking, but then he’d stop to not be caught by nami and her fury.

but one can only stare at the ocean for so long. just as he was about to go find another distraction, a figure came crashing into his back and knocking the air out of his lungs.

”[name]!! what are you doing?’ luffy’s drawled out voice spoke, practically whining into [name]’s skin. “you left me all alone,”

“i did not, i made sure zoro was nearby for you to cuddle,” [name] smiled, turning his head and feeling his smile grow wider when luffy’s face pressed closer and closer to his own.

“blegh, i don’t like cuddling with zoro, he smells,”

“i know, maybe we should force him into bath time with us, lu,” [name] hummed, still not breaking eye contact.

luffy’s deep, dark eyes were so captivating that it was hard to look away. [name] only found himself surveying the rest of luffy’s features. his beautifully tanned complexion that could only be describe as sun-kissed. his dark hair that was oh-so slightly wavy, but for the most part just spikey in all the most random directions. the small, barely noticeable freckles that adorned the high points of his face, credit to the sun exposure he’s gotten over their journey.

[name] smiled, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against luffy’s. the captain, finding the action fun, grinned and leaned further into [name], giggling to himself.

luffy, [name]’s beautiful boy.

innocently unaware of the hold he had over [name]’s heart, morals, actions, ideology. everything. luffy had complete control over it. and instead of abusing it, he remained painfully oblivious.

unaware that with a simple command, [name] would do anything luffy wished.

luffy, the sun-kissed boy, that had captivated the man who related to the moon. an unlikely pair, from an outsider perspective.

without hesitation, [name] leaned in and gently pecked luffy’s nose. this made the younger one crinkle his face in surprise before breaking out into laughter, the signature laugh of his.

“hehe, what was that for?” luffy asked, making sure that their foreheads were still connected.

“dunno,” [name] dumbly answered, grinning as he saw the way luffy pouted at that response. “just felt like it,”

luffy hummed in understanding. then he grabbed both of [name]’s cheeks, pulled him in, and placed a wet, sloppy kiss onto both of his cheeks. [name] grimaced at the uncomfortable sensation, but the grimace was wiped off of his face in an instant when he saw how happy luffy was.

the two started quietly giggling before it turned into outright howling laughter. they didn’t know why they were laughing, honestly, but [name] felt that silence existing when luffy was near wasn’t an appropriate environment. so he started laughing, as did luffy, and now here they were rolling back and forth on deck in each others’ arms, laughing so loud the other strawhats woke up.

“hm, no, luffy, pay attention,” [name] sternly said, holding onto luffy’s hand to squeeze. the action was supposed to trigger luffy into becoming serious, but the future captain still had that childish grin on his face. “this mean “i am” and the black space is where you put your name, m’kay? and you write your name like this — like we practiced earlier!”

luffy simply kept his hold on [name]’s hand tight as he mindlessly nodded along. affectionately, the older one’s thumbs ran up and down the backside of luffy’s hand, encouraging him to try writing it out himself. and it seemed to work as luffy turned serious.

”then you have to write it in this stroke,” [name] said, taking his other hand to hold onto luffy’s and guide him in the proper way of writing. luffy’s tongue was poking out of the corner of his lips and he was deeply concentrated on getting it right. white paper sheets that had previous attempts were scattered around their room, showing how determined luffy was in getting this right.

he recognized how hard [name] was teaching him and he really didn’t want to mess up all the effort he was putting into their lesson. that’s what motivated luffy to try again and again.

“wow! that doesn’t look half bad,” [name] hummed, bringing the paper up and examining it, “you’re getting better each time, lu,”

“i did good?” luffy asked, dropping the inky pen and jumping onto [name], tilting his head into the man’s neck.

[name] chuckled at the blatant need for praise from the boy, but nodded his head in agreement, “very good, lu, you’re making me really proud!” the childish one cheered and rocked the two back and forth to show his happiness at the news. [name] held onto him tight so that they wouldn’t crash onto the floor, laughing along with him.

“should we show ace your hard work?” [name] suggested, grabbing the paper tight in his hands. luffy hummed in agreement, seeing it as a chance to show off to his older brother, and [name] carried the boy on his back to find ace.

in the crow’s nest of merry, [name] had his hands carded through luffy’s dark hair. he would occasionally massage his scalp, smiling when luffy would practically purr in glee at the soft sensation. in the midst of the sunset, the light was hitting luffy so beautifully he was practically glowing.

to know that someone as kindhearted and beautiful as luffy existed made [name] smile.

luffy was busy watching the sunset, he wasn’t all too focused on how [name] was taking in every little detail of his face.

[name] could see every detail so clearly. the freckles that were so small they were only visible when the sun was shining on them, scattered around his eyes, nose and cheeks. they looked like flecks of a paintbrush’s brown paint. how luffy’s eyes were so dark, but still managed to sparkle and look as if though stars were living right in his eyes. they were so cute when they were blown wide in excitement, too, [name] had noticed that since him and luffy were kids.

how luffy’s eyes would widen and you’d see visibly how excited he was about something. it made [name] smile even wider. or, how naturally luffy’s lips were always resting in a small grin and how there was the tiniest mole on the bottom of his lip and how it would stretch along with him whenever he smiled.

how there was no blemish in sight on luffy’s skin and he was practically flawless. [name] hands moved from luffy’s hair and down to his waist, hugging him tight. he ducked his head into luffy’s neck, innocently blowing a raspberry into his skin, making luffy’s giggles fill the air.

“hey! what was that for?” luffy questioned, not at all angry, but instead feeling delighted at the affection.

“just wanted to,” [name] smiled, holding luffy still and continuing to hug him tight in his lap. “luffy, promise me something,”

“anything!” luffy grinned.

“never change, okay? i want you to stay like this forever,” [name] said, a selfish feeling blooming in his chest. luffy frowned, pouting as he thought.

truthfully, luffy was also a really selfish individual who, contrary to what people think, is incredibly self-aware. in the sense, he knows who he is and knows what he wants and how he wants to achieve his dreams. he’s actually a very simple man — he wants to be the pirate king and won’t let anything stop him. and he likes to think that’s one of his strongest suits, his determination and unwillingness to shift positions on what he has his mind set on.

that’s what made [name]’s words were so conflicting to him. because what if he does end up changing because he has to? but also, he cherishes [name] above everything else. he puts [name] on such a high pedestal that there’s never a chance he would willingly say no to him.

“are you gonna hate me if i change?”

“of course not, lu,” [name] said immediately, running one hand up to caress luffy’s cheek, “could never hate you. i just love you so much like this — the sweetest boy i know,”

“hehe, then i’ll stay like this forever if that means you’ll love me the same!”

[name] grinned, planting a kiss on luffy’s cheek and nodding, “you’re the best, luffy,”

“that’s right, i am! the king of pirates can’t be anything else but!”

[name] and luffy laughed to themselves, both looking on at the sun that was setting over the horizon and basking in its rays. well, [name] was too enamored with the warmth and energy that luffy was radiating to really focus on the sun, but luffy was paying attention to it.

the sun watching the sun, [name] thought with a grin, laughing at the funny parallel.

that really does make him the moon, eagerly chasing after luffy. always.

roronoa zoro - frisky by dominic fike

“we’re drunk in these fancy places, i help you navigate cause nobody around you makes aneffort and i wanna make an effort. what in the world is gonna make you listen? i got a bottle for two and i feel a lil’ frisky! what in the world is gonna make you listen? // don’t be so messy headed, you’ll have your revelation. you’re heavy handed cause you hold it all. step outside, but not to brawl. and, watch you feet — try not to fall. or we’ll make it to the moon all scraped and bruised up”

the moon was shining brightly down on the island the strawhats were docked at. each crew member was doing their own thing, for nami it was seeing the different shops that were scattered around the island, for usopp it was to see what type of unique trinkets the people created, and sanji was busy trying to woo whichever women stepped into his eye sight. and the most energetic, luffy and chopper, were entertaining themselves around the island, leaving some sort of chaotic mess behind them.

the only ones who were holding off on letting loose were zoro and [name]. they were assigned to babysit merry while the others were free to roam around and neither complained when they were appointed the responsibility.

the two were the only ones left on merry, zoro secluded near the railing and seemingly watching the ocean with his swords not far away. [name] was roaming around looking for the green-head, holding a bottle of rum he had found in his hand.

and when he finally caught sight of him, he grinned ear to ear. he quietly stalked towards the swordsman, announcing his presence with a soft, but loud, “boo!” and grabbing each of zoro’s shoulders to shake gently. the goal was to obviously scare him, but zoro only rolled his eyes at [name]’s childish antics.

“really? your loud ass breathing gave you away,” zoro said, a smirk on his face as he easily insulted [name].

the man only rolled his eyes and took a seat beside zoro, placing the bottle down, “come on, let’s get drunk!”

zoro quirked his eyebrow up at the remark, but didn’t bother fighting the urge to take a long swig. and when the bottle was pulled away from his lips, he placed it back down, “you don’t drink,” he easily said, watching with interest as [name] took the bottle.

“i don’t, but this could be a good bonding moment between us,”

zoro scoffed at the excuse, cracking a grin as he saw [name]’s face scrunch up in disgust at the taste of alcohol, “for someone that loves bitter things, i would’ve thought you’d have loved the taste of some booze,”

“blegh,” [name] groaned, sticking his tongue out, “hell no. this shit is so nasty,”

zoro took another sip, “so why even?”

“bonding, of course,” [name] grinned, demeanor flipping in an instant.

“why do we need to this bonding? it’s stupid,” zoro remarked, looking at the bottle with a blank look on his face.

“zoro, quit complaining. nothing’s wrong with me bringing a bottle for two, shouldn’t you be happy you’re drinking booze anyway,”

“i could easily do this by myself, dipshit,”

“bottle for two, marimo,” [name] said, flicking zoro’s forehead, “don’t be so pissy.”

“fine, but don’t you get all whiny on me when you keep sipping this knowing you’ll hate it,”

“oh, shut up, zoro,” [name] said, taking another swig and immediately sticking his tongue out in disgust.

by the time the bottle was halfway done, zoro drinking most of it, [name] was feeling rather tipsy. his face felt hot and he was slouching and swaying in all sorts of directions, despite being in a sitting position. and of course, zoro was holding up just fine and normal.

“zoro,” [name] whined, making the green-haired man click his tongue in annoyance. this is exactly what he was dreading. the possibility of [name] being unable to hold his liquor well and having to babysit the man’s drunken state.

“no,” zoro grunted, already getting up to walk away from the mess of a man that [name] was.

“no, you,” [name] said, quickly grabbing ahold of zoro’s ankles and keeping an iron grip on them.

“hey! let go!”

“no, you,”

“what?!”

“hehe.”

“don’t hehe me, you bastard!” zoro bit back, pulling [name] up to his feet by his underarms, cringing at the way [name]’s entire body weight fell onto him. not that he was heavy, but the fact that he was clinging onto him so tight the moment their skin made contact. “i told you not to even bother with this, you idiot. now look, you can’t even stand straight,”

“we should go out,” [name] mumbled, cheek pressed to zoro’s hair. “marimo,” he said in a daze, carding his long fingers through zoro’s short hair, “fuzzy!”

“quit it!’ zoro said, grabbing [name]’s hands in his own and restraining them from wandering anywhere else. “why the fuck did i have to be on here with you, of all people?”

after a couple moments of silence, zoro wondered if [name] did actually fall asleep standing up, or if he was really that offended by his words. the swordsman didn’t know how [name] was drunk so there was a chance he was one of those overly emotional people…

just as he tilted his head up to see [name]’s expression, he was yanked in the opposite direction and was suddenly being dragged elsewhere.

“let’s go!!” [name] cheered, smile evident on his face as he easily used his strength to drag zoro’s entire body weight.

“go where?! and like hell we are going anywhere!!” zoro shouted, kicking his heels into merry to stop his movement, but it was truly no use. [name], despite being drunk, was still really strong.

“see the world!” [name] shouted, jumping off of the side of the railing and bringing zoro with him, “merry, we will be back, don’t go anywhere!” he slurred, waving by to the still ship and skipping ahead.

“hey, hey, hey, don’t drag me into whatever you’re plannin-” zoro’s face was covered with [name] hand as the drunk man shut him up from complaining further. “gthyrhuntuhofame!!”

“you’re so funny, zoro,” [name] giggled, leaning into the man and guiding the both of them to walk forward. well, guide was the wrong word as he was walking as if he had two left feet and swaying the two of them back and forth.

once zoro managed to break free from [name]’s suffocating hand, he screamed, “we are going back to merry, idiot, let’s go!”

“but zoro! we didn’t even get to the main part of town!” [name] complained, kicking his feet into the dirt in protest.

“i don’t give a shit, come on!” zoro grabbed onto [name]’s hand without thinking twice and started dragging him back in the direction of merry. unfortunately, [name]’s eyes caught something shining a couple of feet away and changed his trajectory with ease.

noticing that [name]’s hand wasn’t in his and that he wasn’t dragging the man to walk, zoro looked at his straying figure. “where are you going?!”

”it’s the light bug! what are they called? bug light? dragon light? no…light bug…”

“what are you talking about?! get back here,” zoro scrambled to catch up to [name], cursing under his breath as [name] was not listening to him at all.

“dragon…no, light…” [name] was pouting as he tried to remember what the name was before his face lit up and he remembered. and when he did, he made sure to swivel on his feet to face the incoming zoro, grabbing ahold of him and shaking him back and forth, “fire fly! they’re the fireflies! zoro, look at all the fireflies!”

using the hands on both sides of zoro’s face, he maneuvered his head around to look at all the glowing bugs around them. the swordsman obviously did not care and tried breaking free from his grasp immediately.

“yeah, yeah, the light bugs, whatever! let’s go, you big idiot,” zoro said, taking [name]’s wrists in his hands and tugging him again.

“no! fireflies,” [name] scolded, smacking the back of zoro’s head, “fire-fly! fi-re-fl-y!”

“shut the fuck up about the stupid bugs!” zoro screamed, making [name] laugh at his funny expression.

“the marimo is mad.”

“shut the fuck up or i’ll leave you here!”

“oh, but zoro, look the moon is so bright!” [name] stopped walking, jolting zoro’s body to be near his own, a dopey grin on his face, “it’s sooooo big! and bright! like…like, a bowl of milk.”

zoro deadpanned, rolling his eyes at the childish antics he had to deal with, “yeah, a big bowl of milk in the sky, let’s go now.”

“no, i wanna look at it some more,” he plopped down onto the grass, crossing his long legs over one another and gazing up at the sky.

“fine, find your own way back to merry, i’m not looking at the stupid moon with you,” zoro said, dropping the hold he had on [name]’s wrist and beginning to walk away. [name], seemingly unbothered, only began humming a very familiar song and looking up at the sky with a soft smile on his face.

zoro’s eyes narrowed at his lack of complaint of him leaving, enunciating, “you have to go back to merry on your own.”

[name] only continued on humming.

“i’m not gonna tell them how to find you, you need to go back by yourself,”

the same tune was escaping [name]’s sealed lips.

and, for some unexplainable reason, zoro found himself sitting down next to [name] and resting his chin in his palms, a bored and pissed look on his face.

“stupid fucking idiot, can’t just look at the moon from merry, as if it makes a difference where you look at it from,” he said under his breath, flinching when he felt [name]’s breath on the back of his neck. “back up!”

“if you had one wish, what would it be, zoro?”

“for you to back up off of me,”

“no,” [name] said, hugging himself into zoro’s side with a grin on his face, “that’s not a real wish!”

“fine, my wish would be for you to drop dead,”

“how rude~” [name]’s words were slurred as he spoke, showing that the affects of the alcohol were still lasting, “my wish would be for everyone’s dreams to come true. you’ll kill that stupid hawk guy and claim that title as yours, luffy will be the pirate king…and…i forgot everyone elses’…sorry,”

“that’s stupid. you’d waste your one wish on other people?” zoro judged, giving up on trying to get [name]’s heavy torso off of his own body. instead, he leaned back on the palms of his hands and allowed [name] to rest on his shoulder however he liked.

“it’s not a waste if it’s you guys,” [name] yawned, eyes dreary as he looked at the moon. “not a waste, marimo,”

zoro remained silent, looking down at [name]’s head on his chest and sighing. annoying piece of shit, he thought in his head. then he turned his gaze up to the sky and tried to make himself interested in it. he wondered what [name] was seeing that made him so intrigued in it. maybe his drunk self really thought a big bowl of milk was in the sky. zoro’s eyebrows scrunched together as he was deep in thought.

why would [name] waste a wish on something as stupid as that? — instead of his own dreams. it made zoro annoyed and pissed off. selfless bastard, he insulted in his head.

“do you think the moon is a big cheese?”

zoro deadpanned again. what the fuck was wrong with him.

“if the moon was a big cheese, i’d give you a bigggg slice,” [name] grinned, nodding his head in affirmation, “cheese is yummy,”

“mhm,” zoro hummed in a bored tone.

then he felt the weight on his chest grow heavier and the body against his turn limp.

“oi.” he called out, going to shake [name] awake before holding himself back. the man was sleeping with a tired grin on his face, mumbling incoherent phrases about the moon and cheese. zoro was tuning him out as he just thought about how annoying he was being.

zoro sat up, allowing [name]’s body to hit the ground briefly before squatting down and forcing his tall figure onto his back, “he comes all the way out here,” he grunts, balancing the weight on his back and adjusting his grip, “then has the audacity to fall asleep,” he begins walking down through the grassy fields, “all for a stupid milk, cheese moon…i’ll kill him when he wakes up,”

“marimo, cheese,” [name] said in his sleep, making zoro very tempted in whacking him awake and making him walk the rest of the way to merry. but zoro restrained himself and told himself he would just harshly drop [name] onto the deck of merry the second they arrived.

by some miracle, zoro made it back to merry without getting completely lost. and it seemed that despite them abandoning their post over an hour ago, they were still the only ones that were on board. and zoro withheld throwing [name] onto the floor, clicking his tongue in annoyance as he walked to the boy’s dorm.

then he put [name] down into one of the hammocks, sighting in exhaustion of carrying the much taller man.

“marimo, stay,”

“i’m not a fucking dog, you asshole.”

“marimo, sit,”

“oi!!”

“shhh,” [name] put his finger to zoro’s lips, making him shut up, but ultimately only piss zoro off further. “cheese moon,”

“holy fucking shit,” zoro groaned in disbelief, standing up and leaving the room to retrieve a water from the kitchen. surprisingly, the chef was back and moving around the familiar domain as he prepared some dish. “hah? when did you get back?”

“just now, stupid marimo. where’s [name]? don’t tell me you two killed each other?”

“shut up, ero cook,” zoro bit back, going to get a glass and some medication from the cabinet, “the idiot got drunk,”

“[name]? he doesn’t drink,” sanji said, a look of surprise on his face.

“yeah, i know,” zoro said, moving past sanji and getting water from the sink.

”i’ll make him a hangover remedy then,” the chef said easily, rolling his sleeves up without wasting a second.

“you care that much about the idiot?”

“who’s the one getting him medication and water?”

there was silence in the kitchen and zoro stormed out of there with a pissed off look on his face. then he stomped over to the dorms and forced the pill down [name]’s throat, as well as big gulps of water. [name], surprisingly, didn’t complain all that much. only going limp against the hammock once zoro was done. and just as the swordsman was going to leave, [name]’s hand grabbed ahold of his pant leg.

“let go,” zoro commanded, tugging his leg to get [name]’s grip free.

“stay, look at the moon with me, zoro,”

“we’re-” zoro cut himself off, finding the words he wanted to say die in the back of his throat. what he wanted to say was, that there was no moon in sight from the inside of the dormitory.

but just as he was going to, [name]’s hand pointed upward at the ceiling, a blissful smile on his face, “right there,”

now usually, zoro would have said something along the lines of, “you delusional fuck, that’s the wood ceiling,”

but, again, the words died at the back of his throat. instead, he found himself taking a rest in the hammock beside [name]’s and looking at the ceiling.

“yep, the cheese moon is definitely something,” he drawled out, crossing his arms over his chest.

“hehe, thanks, zoro,” [name] smiled, eyes still shut as he was going in and out of sleep, “for drinking with me.”

”yeah, it’s never happening again so cherish this memory,” zoro sarcastically bit back, a mocking look on his face — one that [name] didn’t even see as he was still in a sleepy state.

but even though [name]’s eyes were shut and a blissful look was on his face, zoro was wide awake and left expectingly staring at the other man. and when he caught himself staring, he turned his head to the side immediately and rolled his eyes.

“idiot,” was whispered into the air as he tried to will himself to sleep, body still turned away from [name]’s. “fucking idiot.”

nami - hit different by sza

“man, i get more in love with you each argument. something wrong with me, i like the way you screw your face up, trigger me right when i need it. you wrong, but i can’t get along without you. it’s a shame and i can’t blame myself, keep on loving you. you do it different. all that i know is, mirrors inside of me — they recognize you. please, don’t deny me”

onlookers were watching the two on the street with terrified expressions.

“quit being unreasonable, [name]!”

“but i’m not, nami,” he drawled her name out, a teasing tone evident in his voice.

the townspeople all flinched at his response, finding him courageous for walking such a thin line in front of someone that was so obviously angered.

[ a couple minutes before ]

[name] and nami were exploring the town, walking side by side and paying attention to all the vendors that interested them. [name] already had some shopping bags in his hands, courtesy of nami’s spending habits, but wasn’t complaining at all.

she would drag him every which way and he wouldn’t say a single complaint. he was in a pretty good mood, so he wasn’t going to drag anyone else’s mood down either, even if he didn’t appreciate being treated like a ragdoll of some sort.

“oooh, do you think usopp would like this?” nami asks, pointing to a patterned bandana inside one of the shops, “i want to pay him back for making the climatact for me,”

“i think he likes neutral colors more, though,” he commented, looking over the options and seeing a more earth-toned bandana.

“really? i feel like he likes colorful things more, radiates his energy anyway…” [name] almost cooed at the underlying compliment nami had given the sniper, before a tick mark appeared on her forehead and she sneered, “loud, annoying, and in your face. maybe we shouldn’t even get him anything! he really did screw me over in alabasta with all those flimsy tricks!”

he rubbed up and down her back to calm her down, “it got the job done, though, so it’s alright. let’s get him one of each then, i’ll pay,” she batted her eyelashes at him, her angry demeanor washing away instantly as she purred about how much of a gentleman he was (she just didn’t want to pay and was trying to gas him up so that he would pay for more things on their shopping spree).

“shut up, i see through your tactics, nami,” he said, lightly flicking her forehead before waltzing into the shop and making a beeline straight to the attendant. she waited outside of the store, smiling to herself as she was not paying for the gift herself.

and she wasn’t standing by herself for long, but in the minutes of [name] being gone, a man had approached her. immediately she grimaced at the sight of him, but he only reacted with a smile to the look on her face.

“sorry for bothering you, miss, but i couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are-”

“not interested,” she sighed, already wondering when [name] would come back.

“i was wondering if you would be interested in going to dinner with me?”

“i already said not interested,” she repeated, tapping her foot in annoyance.

“are you waiting for someone?”

“yeah, i am actually,” she pointed her finger to the store, “he’s buying something for me and a friend right now,”

“his own money, darling? because i can assure you i have more than whatever he has,” in a way of showing off, he had pulled a thick wallet from his pant pocket. now, nami was not at all interested in the man, but rather the thick wad of beri that was resting in his leather wallet.

just as she was about to try out some of her old techniques in snatching the man’s wallet, the sound of the door behind her opening was heard.

“huh? nami, who’s this?” [name] asked, eyes already narrowed as he looked down at the much shorter man. nami elbowed him in the stomach for interrupting her process, looking up at him and sneering in his direction.

“oh, no one, he was just making small talk, weren’t you?” she directed her eyes to the stranger, trying to convey with her expression to go along with what she was saying.

“well, he can make small talk with someone else,” [name] said, cutting off any excuse the stranger would have also made to stay longer. he motioned for them to leave, looking solely at nami so that she could focus on him and not the stranger.

and with his intimidating e/c eyes now looking at her, she almost caved. but then she caught a glimpse of the wallet and remained steadfast. she wished [name] could read her mind so that he would let her do what she needed to do.

“[name], just go back to merry,” she said in a sweet tone, hoping that that would convince him.

but he was stubborn, obviously.

“yeah, man, go back to merry,” the guy chimed in, making nami internally groan at what men would do to stroke their own ego. and of course, now [name] would definitely not go back to merry after that guy told him to.

“oh, isn’t the lil man a bit demanding?” [name] teased, looking at the shorter male and faking a pout, “why the fuck do you think you have the right to tell me what to do?”

“quit being unreasonable, [name],” nami sighed, feeling her anger beginning to

“oh, but i’m not, nami.” the same tone he used on the man was now being used on her and it made her even more annoyed.

“come no, [name] can’t you see-”

“that you want this guy’s wallet? yeah.”

the man flinched at the quick comment, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. but before he could even react, [name] swiped him across the face and caught his wallet before he could even hit the ground. then he grabbed nami’s hand and began running with her away from the commotion he had caused.

“hey! get that guy! he just punched the mayor!”

“that was the mayor?!” [name] shouted out in a slight panic.

“[name]! what the hell!? why couldn’t you just let me handle it?!”

“he was pissing me off!”

“typical man behavior — you’re pissed off so you go punching everything and everyone!”

“i punched one person!”

“yeah and that one person was the mayor!”

“well, i got his wallet, shouldn’t you be rejoicing?!”

“oh yeah, thanks for doing what i could’ve done with ease in such a terrible way that now we are running from the angry townspeople!” nami shouted, pulling on his ear and dragging her down to her height and making them turn a corner to hide from the crowd.

he was leaning down so that his ear wasn’t being completely ripped off, wincing in pain.

“this is why you should’ve just gone to merry, i would’ve had that wallet in under ten minutes without the violence,” nami scolded, turning silent when a crowd of angry civilians ran past them.

[name] only spoke up when he was sure that the coast was clear, freeing himself from nami’s aggressive grip.

“i wanted to punch him in the face anyway, it was a win-win situation!”

“really? you think this is a win-win situation right now?” nami asked, her voice becoming louder with the more annoyed she was getting.

“uhm, yeah, we have the wallet and i got to punch him,” [name] shrugged, a very relaxed look on his face. “shouldn’t you be rejoicing over this right now?”

“ugh, now we have to rush off of this island, or else they’re gonna eventually catch on,” nami thought out loud, ignoring [name]’s question.

“we are pirates anyway nami, they would’ve kicked us off of the island sooner or later,” he said, bringing his arm up to rest on the wall behind her, leaning into it. he peered down at her with a grin, not at all bothered by the state they were in.

nami crossed her hands over her chest and looked to the side as she thought about how they’d even get to merry without attracting the crowd. the island was small and they were bound to bump into some civilian on the way back. noticing how lost in thought she was in, [name] sighed and pinched her side.

this made her snap her head in his direction with a glare, “are you mad at me?” he asked, making her run her hand down his face.

“what do you think, idiot?”

“no?” he wistfully asked, grinning into her palm as he felt her fight the urge to squeeze his face with all her strength.

“just shut up and let me think,” she began to trying to remember where the rest of the crew was. at least this stop was planned to be quick to begin with or else she would be fuming at [name] right now.

“c’mon, don’t be mad at me, nami,” he whined like a kid, only making her more distracted from her rational thinking.

“you’re only making me more mad,” she huffed, finally looking up at him and scowling at the face he was making. he was attempting puppy dog eyes towards her, but she just smooshed his face (again) with her hand and grabbed him by the wrist. “we have to go back and warn everyone,”

“yes, ma’am,” he obediently chimed in, walking with in a pep in step as he followed her.

their walk back included him humming his signature tune as she was trying to calm her anger towards [name] down. but as they walked back, she realized that her anger wasn’t as strong as she would have liked. she wishes that she could make [name] grovel at his feet and beg for forgiveness from her, for causing such a hinderance in their stop at this island, but the more she listened to his humming, the more her anger subsided.

annoying ass, she thought to herself, squeezing his wrist especially hard, knowing that it wouldn’t actually hurt him. he even had the audacity to giggle to himself after she had done that.

when they finally made it back to merry, she ordered him to get ready to set sail while making sure that everyone else was already on board.

“woah, nami, you look extra pissed, what’s going on?” usopp commented, lifting his goggles off of his eyes and putting down the trinket he was fiddling with.

“why don’t you ask that dumbass over there?” she sneered, making usopp shiver at the sheer annoyance in her voice. then he looked at [name], stomped over, and began stretching his cheeks.

“what did you do to make nami so mad?! y’know she’s just gonna get mad at us now!!”

“well, i didn’t make her mad on purpose!” [name] weakly defended, but usopp wasn’t having it. “some guy was being a creep so i punched him,”

nami’s eye twitched at the reminder while usopp’s soul slowly left his body.

”whatever! it doesn’t matter now! usopp, is everyone on board?!” nami said, making the sniper snap out of his stupor to quickly reply back to the enraged nami that everyone was present. “then tell them to get ready to set sail, we’re leaving now. i really don’t want to worry about a marine ship ambushing us…”

“yes, nami!!” he screamed, running off to follow her orders.

after successfully getting away from the island, [name] walked to the tangerine trees that were on top of merry and grabbed a handful from the delicate branches. as far as he knew, nami went to her cartography room to work in peace, but he wanted to extend some sort of apology to her for ruining their stop at the island.

he didn’t think it was all that big of a deal, but he could tell how annoyed she was at him. so he diligently and carefully peeled the skin away from the juicy fruit, throwing them to the garbage, and neatly plating the now naked tangerines on a nice dish.

when he got her door, he gently knocked and entered after a couple of seconds of silence. nami saw that it was him and immediately rolled her eyes, before seeing that he did not come empty handed.

“what is it?” she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and swiveling her chair to face him. he stood in front of her, smiling gently as he presented the plate to her. she only looked up at him unimpressed.

“i wanted to say sorry, i admit that it was kind of dumb of me to cause a scene back there,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he saw that she was still not impressed, “you were right about the whole thing. it was just annoying seeing his ego get stroked that high,”

she sighed, dropping her glare and grabbing the plate from him to take a slice.

“it’s whatever now, we are already on course to a nearby island where we can properly restock. it’s fine, [name],” she looked back at her sketched out maps, chewing and swallowing the tangerine with a pleasant smile on her face. “you even brought some tangerines, not that that immediately makes you not guilty, but at least you’re actually sorry.”

“of course i am, caused a lot of trouble for us and you,”

she waved her hand, “just forget about it,”

he grinned, taking a seat on the floor and leaning on one of the legs of the table, “we’ll forget about it?” he asked in a giddy tone, happy to be in her good grace’s again.

she hummed in confirmation, popping another slice in her mouth with a carefree grin. he was about to cheer at the fact, but then she cheekily added in, “for the price of 10,000 beri, i’ll even forgive you for the last time you pissed me off.”

he immediately deflated at the twist, “but i don’t even know when that was-”

“ah, ah, that’s not my problem, it’s completely optional if you even wanna pay that debt off — i’ll just add more interest the longer you don’t pay it back,”

“hey, that’s taking it too far,” he whined like a kicked puppy, but she didn’t falter.

“you wanna argue with me again?”

“don’t know it was kind of fun last time,”

“i’ll kick you,”

“that’s sanji’s forte, nami,” he teased, making her slap him upside the head. he only grinned, weakly rubbing the spot, “you love me anyway, you’d never kick me~”

there was a bout of silence and [name] almost snickered in amusement, until he felt the heel of her shoe dig into his thigh. making him yelp in pain instead of giggling.

”whatever helps you sleep at night, [name]~” she said in the same tone that he used, a mocking grin on her face as he writhed in pain.

she wasn’t actually mad at him, she also didn’t even jab her heel into his leg that hard — he was purposely exaggerating to make her laugh some more. she found it endearing, sort of, and simply watched in amusement as he whined about the “never-ending” pain in his leg.

usopp - pressure by the 1975

“you’ve seen so many faces that i’ve never seen before. i left an unrewarding message telling you to come. overdramatic, automatically assume i’ll stay the same. there’s a change in pressure. we’re never gonna lie to you. my broken veins say that if my heart stops beating, we’ll bleed the same way.”

usopp was rather intimidated by [name]. similar to how chopper is, however, usopp had never gotten over this irrational fear and intimidation, yet. but it’s not the fear of “what will [name] do to us? will he betray us?” not that kind of fear. it’s more so the fear of being replaced and the fact that [name] could easily fill his space on the ship and do so much more than usopp could.

that’s what his doubts, worried, and voices in his head say at least. put himself down and uplift [name] in the same sentence. it’s a dangerous combination.

what usopp doesn’t know is that, [name] is rather envious of the sniper. he often watches the man and feels how deeply and dearly he wishes he could live life as usopp does. there is just something so envious about how usopp lives. while the sniper may think that he lives his life in fear and in a cowardice way, [name] thinks the opposite.

usopp is very brave, in his eyes. he thinks that usopp is also really selfless. qualities that [name] wishes he had. even on top of that, there are so many ways [name] wishes he was like usopp.

it’s ironic. how usopp beats himself up and wishes he were more like [name], the man himself wishes he were more like usopp.

“don’t you think your experience out on the sea gives you an advantage?” usopp asks, his eyes blown wide as he had heard [name] sincerely confess his envious emotions to the man. he didn’t believe him. how could he? when something as outlandish as the highly wanted man, figure of power ad intimidating, says to him — usopp — how jealous he is of how he lives. it already sounds like a terrible joke and an even worse lie.

“i guess, but that’s not what i’m talking about,” [name] leans forward and points his finger into usopp’s chest, “i’ve lost my heart, usopp, that’s what i mean.”

usopp blinks a couple of times, trying to process the words, but he can’t seem to understand what [name] means. he was a kind man, [name] has shown this ever since usopp has known him. despite the hostility he faced on board merry when they all first met, there was never an ounce of that being repaid to the rest of the crew. he just took the brash attitude with a smile and nod of his head.

“i don’t think it’s entirely my fault, i guess,” [name] continues on, lifting his finger off of usopp’s chest, “environment shapes a person and all…but there was definitely a line i had crossed on my own a long time ago that makes it so you can’t turn back, y’know?” usopp doesn’t respond because he doesn’t know how to.

“usopp, you’re a kind person, very kind. and i’m jealous of how far that kindness stretches. i can only throw my emotions so far before they snap,” he laughs as if what he had said was funny, but it really was a pitiful action. he didn’t think it was funny how cold and devoid of basic human understanding he has become. he thinks its sad…

and usopp still doesn’t completely understand. if he were in [name]’s position, to be so strong and so capable on his own, he’d be the happiest and most fulfilled man alive. to usopp, the answer to all of his problems is to become stronger and stronger until he is simply the strongest. of course, he sees that as impossible. mainly due to [name]’s existence reminding him that there are stronger people out there.

which is why usopp can’t understand what [name] means.

[name], the strong and feared by many pirate, could easily have the world in the palm of his hands with the amount of power he wields. and by that logic, he should feel like he is the most accomplished man. things like emotion wouldn’t really be the biggest deal, wouldn’t it? not when you have such an influence on the people around you due to your strength, right?

“i don’t understand…” usopp says softly, still trying to really wrap his head around it, “you’re stronger than me, isn’t that more important than whatever quality i have?”

[name] laughs, this time usopp can’t tell where it stems from. pity? genuine moment of happiness? stupor?

“you’d rather be strong instead of kind? i don’t think that’s true, usopp,” [name] says, wiping a tear from his laughter from the corner of his eye, “what i had to do to reach this point, you wouldn’t want that for yourself, even if it makes you strong. i want what you have, though, genuine courage and bravery.”

usopp almost sputtered out a laugh at that, thinking that [name] was just playing a joke on him. but with how serious [name] had become, it was clear that the man was not kidding.

“i think you’re brave, usopp, it makes me jealous. i wish i had as many capabilities that you had,” [name] sighs, resting his cheek in his palm, “it’d make life simpler. i wouldn’t have to worry about such stupid things, the stuff going on up here,” he tapes the side of his temple, “they’d all disappear in a moment’s notice. i think about too much. being strong doesn’t mean all of your problems are solved, y’know?”

“i don’t believe that,” usopp says firmly, shaking his head, “if i were stronger from the get go, many things would have been different. and i don’t mean any metaphorical stuff, no, i mean if i were as physically and mentally capable as you — my life would have changed for the better!”

usopp thinks about his hometown, what he could have done for the people there if he were more mature and strong, like [name] was, if he held himself differently, all that could have changed. to think that [name] would call what strength he had a burden, or insinuate it as one, was kind of annoying. usopp would do anything to be as strong as [name].

“well, if two opposites ends of the spectrum talk about the same thing, there would obviously be differing opinions. but i truly don’t think striving for that physical strength is worth that time and effort of yours, usopp. it’s good to be strong, yeah, but…overdoing it shouldn’t be the goal,” [name] advises, “besides, i think you’re fine as you are right now.”

“but there’s so much i could improve on,” a list sprouts in usopp’s head immediately.

“you are your own worst critic, of course there is so much you think you could improve on. but by focusing so much on that, you’re not highlighting your already existing strengths,” [name] looks disappointed as he speaks, petting his hair down on usopp’s bandana, “instead of trying to mimic or compare yourself to others, your practice should be more self-centered.”

usopp was going to emphasize there was nothing particularly interesting about how he currently was, but something was telling him that [name] wouldn’t allow such a critique to slide in his presence. usopp had never been able to see such a side of [name]. it was stern and strict, kind of intimidating, but there was definitely an undertone of nothing but care in his voice. he genuinely cared about how usopp viewed himself and his “strengths.” it made usopp almost turn into mush.

to think someone as strong as [name] cared about him so deeply. in his mind, someone of his capabilities shouldn’t even worry about him. what’s the saying? no one intentionally steps on bugs, it just happens? whatever, usopp thinks to himself, not being able to come up with the exact phrasing. you get what he means! he just never thought he was capable of even crossing [name]’s mind.

but, as he had just found out, it seems [name] thinks about him quite often. it’s flattering, but usopp reminds himself to not grow an ego out of nothing.

“we stand on equal ground, at the end of the day,” [name] says, a sense of finality in his voice, “we are all here for the same one or two reasons. to see luffy become the pirate king and achieve our own personal goals. that’s what we are all here for, on merry. i feel like we always overlook that simple fact. i tend to forget sometimes, too, but ground yourself, usopp. i understand why you would want to become stronger, i really do…but like i said, you’ll only hurt yourself overdoing it,”

“also, i don’t need you to be the strongest. i just need you to be there for luffy,” [name] added in, not hesitating as he spoke, “luffy doesn’t need the absolute strongest people on his crew, he needs support and his friends. if you’re already doing that, usopp, there really isn’t much else that’s to be expected of you. that goes for all of us.”

and with a firm slap on his shoulder, [name] walks away from the conversation with nothing but hope in how he might’ve been able to change usopp’s point of view. there’s no way of knowing for sure if it was successful.

“don’t need to be the strongest?” usopp thought out loud, looking out at the sea of thinking of his original dream from when he first joined luffy’s ship. he wants to be the bravest warrior on the sea…huh, he never realized it, but the word strongest wasn’t the one he was originally thinking of when he set out to sea.

after talking to [name], in an uncharacteristically serious conversation, it felt as if there was a weight lifted off of usopp’s shoulders. the change in pressure was noticeable and usopp really did feel lighter. he didn’t expect his talk with you to play out this way, but he wasn’t complaining. it was eye opening, but not in the way he imagined. he thought that he was going to get an ugly slap of reality; someone of your prowess going to tell him the hard truth that there was no room for weak people in the world, you were going to have carry his dead weight — something like that. but it never came.

instead you simply comforted him, but still gave him a hard pill to swallow. being strong wasn’t as important as he thought it was. perhaps it was because usopp had thought himself to be weak since he was young and you — granted he didn’t know your situation perfectly, but he could assume you were strong since you were young — who had been so capable since you were young. such different experiences, which si what made him feel so much whiplash after your conversation.

but he’s thankful. because he truly does feel relief in this moment. to know you value him and see him for who he is despite his lack in physical or battle strength. he likes knowing that, enjoys knowing that he is needed despite his flaws. he never knew he’d feel such sentiments from you, but he’s glad he sought out this conversation.

he experienced a significant change in pressure and he was lighter than ever.

sanji - moonlight on the river by mac demarco

“it’s so strange, deciding how i feel about you. it ain’t like, i ain’t used to going on without you. i’m home, with moonlight on the river, saying my goodbyes.”

the sound of a lighter flicking on could be heard echoing on the empty street. sanji’s lips were pursed around his cigarette, holding it steady as his hand was cupped around the end he was trying to light. [name] was too busy watching a family of ducks swim across the river they were walking along to realize that sanji was holding the now lit cigarette for him.

“oh, thanks,” [name] said, taking it into his fingertips and helping himself to the unhealthy treat. he kept it in his fingertips for as long as possible, sadly watching as sanji took it from him after a couple of seconds.

“why’re you always pouting? it’s an annoying look,” sanji grunted, moving the cigarette to the corner of his mouth so he could properly talk.

“cause i want it and you always end up hogging it,”

“well, who’s the one buying them, dipshit,” sanji scowled, taking teh cigarette from his mouth and forcing it into [name]’s, “you and luffy really have that in common, y’know? it’s like you two were born to complain,”

[name] grinned at the mention of luffy before realizing that sanji had just insulted him, making him smack him on the back of his head, “what a polite chef you are!”

“only to the women,” sanji said with pride, a grin on his face.

the two were walking along the river, late at night, just to get a breather from merry. nami had recently complained about the smell of smoke lingering far too long for her liking, so sanji had made it a habit to smoke as often as possible not on board merry. [name] invited himself on these walks, which sanji honestly didn’t mind. the company wasn’t actually that annoying and it was comforting, he guesses.

[name] and him would walk along through the town, making it back to merry in an hour or two and get a good night’s rest. sometimes, they’d even shower at the same time to speed up the process, but that’s a story for another time.

“do you like the taste of it?” sanji asked, breaking the silence. he watched carefully as [name] inhaled and blew out the smoke, the man turning to look at sanji in confusion, “the cigarette - do you like the taste of it?”

“what an odd question,” [name] said with his head slightly tilted.

“you have one of the most sensitive tongues on merry, it was just out of curiosity,” sanji noted, pointing out an obvious fact and why he drew that connection in the first place. this made the other make a sound of realization and nod his head in understanding.

“oh, well, not really? but also i don’t mind it…it’s not the worst thing i’ve ever had,” [name] said with a grin, taking another drag before flicking off the ash that built up at the tip.

“yeah, you and your hatred for sweets is a real pain,” sanji swiped the cigarette, “everyone else likes them and i got to prepare you your own batch,”

sanji didn’t really find it annoying or bothersome, truthfully. if anything, he found it quite exciting. challenging his knowledge on what would be palatable on someone that was picky on stuff like desserts, it was fun. getting to create new recipe and have the perfect tester there to show whether or not the bitter food was good or not.

but sanji would rather drop dead than admit any of that out loud. [name] didn’t need to know all those embarrassing things.

“you never have to, y’know? i can live without those dishes,” [name] said in a carefree manner. that made an angry tick mark appear on sanji’s forehead.

“oh, so your saying that my efforts are wasted? you’re gonna insult me, as a chef, just like that? don’t piss me off,” sanji sneered, covering up his true thoughts with outward hostility instead.

“haha, sorry, sorry,” [name] said waving his hand, obviously not taking sanji’s threats or tone of voice serious as he had a cheerful look on his face.

“why do you hate them so much? i mean, you practically vomited that one time you accidentally ate one,” sanji mumbled, more-so thinking out loud than actually looking for an answer, “luffy even knew about it, and if that idiot knows something is important enough to actually stick, then it must be something you’ve always disliked as a kid,”

there was silence as [name] took the cigarette from sanji and kept a hold on it, “hm, yeah, i guess i’ve always just hated sweets as a kid and i never grew out of it. it just isn’t my cup of tea,” a tight smile was on his face as he explained, “but if that’s the only thing left to eat and i’m starving, i’ll force it down! i also hate wasting food,”

slightly shocked at the confession, sanji peeked a look at [name] from the side, shaking his head in disbelief at how carefree [name] was talking about something so personal, and seemingly, sensitive.

“you won’t go starving anytime soon,” sanji spoke after a couple moments of silence, “somehow you manage to get your fill in with our captain’s big appetite, so i think you’ll really be fine,”

“if you think so,” [name] shrugged, still holding the cigarette between his long fingers. “i just don’t like them at all, the after affects of being hyper and all that, too. i don’t need that type of high-alert energy, y’know?”

the chef supposed he could understand. well, personally, he didn’t mind sweets and definitely wouldn’t turn down a perfectly fine dish simply because it was sweet. but he understands preferences, he was a chef at a restaurant where he got to see all different people walk through the doors.

sanji didn’t mind catering to [name]’s unique tastebuds, as he’s mentioned before.

another bout of silence washed over the two. another cigarette was bumped out of the carton, this time, [name] taking it to light. sanji held the lighter to the tip, watching carefully to see when he could pull away. his head was craned upwards to look at the cigarette hanging off of [name]’s lips.

“what about that tattoo on your back? where’s that from?”

[name] blinked at the question, smiling softly, “you’re awfully talkative tonight,” just as sanji was about to snap at him for saying something like that, he added in, “it’s nice, i like getting to talk on these walks of ours. feels real special.” a cloud of smoke followed his explanation and sanji ducked his head down to hide facial expression.

“i got it a long time ago, just when i was a teenager,” [name] mulled in thought, trying to recall the memory, “i got it a couple islands over from me and luffy’s home. they’re supposed to symbolize freedom…it sounds silly, but i really do believe that wings are what bring us freedom,” [name] looked up at the sky and smiled, “closer to up there is closer to freedom, i guess.”

“what? like some god?”

[name] scoffed, shaking his head, “hell no, just to the ones that watch over us, i guess. those you hold dear that…” his voice trailed off and he cleared his throat to stop himself from saying anymore.

sanji took in his words in silence.

“you get closer to them, you get closer to showing them how much you’ve accomplished. i don’t know, it’s nice to think about, and guides morals, i guess,” sanji remained silent the entire time, looking up at the sky with a conflicted expression.

the moon was shining bright on the both of them, refracting from every surface of the water and lighting up the area around them.

“that’s your idea of freedom?” sanji asked, pointing a lazy finger at the sky.

“i guess, i don’t really know. it could just be that i like the way it sounds,” [name] grinned, feeling mischievous as he spoke.

sanji made a sound that showed he was irked, unable to believe that the man who said something so sentimental was just as childish.

“what about you sanji? your idea of freedom?” [name] asked, taking the cigarette in his fingertips.

“i don’t know, i don’t think about that stuff half as much as you or luffy do,” sanji shrugged, “i don’t think my freedom will be compromised anytime soon, so it’s not something i have to worry about in keeping secure.”

[name] hummed in understanding. more silence before he spoke again, “and what about the ones you care about, what about their freedom?”

“if you’re talking about the crew, that’s a dumb question. do you really doubt everyone that much? think that they can’t protect themselves and their own freedom? their own dreams?” sanji was obviously defensive, an offended look on his face as he surveyed [name].

“no, it’s not like that,” [name] interjected, “you just don’t think about others that much?”

“don’t make it sound like i’m a selfish prick because i’m not,” sanji huffs, getting annoying with [name]’s wording and whatever his intentions were.

“i’m not saying that either. just because you think more about yourself than others doesn’t mean you’re a selfish prick. it was just a question, sanji,” [name] calmly responded, finding no reason to get angry with sanji for his attitude.

the two were capable of having a conversation without yelling directly at each other, shocker.

“it’s good to know what you want, it’s good to think about that — self-reflection or something,” [name] said, as calm as he was before, “it’s good to know how far you’re willing to go, to step up when the time comes. you know what i mean?”

sanji rolled his eyes, finding [name]’s tone aggravating, but decided not to comment on it. instead he snatched his cigarette back, “this type of conversation doesn’t suit a guy like you, it’s way too serious and complex,”

“i’m the one who initiated it, give me some more credit,” [name] whined, slapping sanji’s back as a means of defending himself, “i’m not an idiot.”

“really?” sanji deadpanned, almost laughing at the way [name] glared at him with such venom.

“what?! hey, i was the one trying to have a mature conversation with you and you’re the one who blew up on me, so who’s the more immature one,” [name] called out, pulling the bottom of his eyelid down in a taunting manner.

“i’m not immature, you were just asking some real dumb questions! of course i think about how to protect the crew if the time ever comes, but i don’t ever doubt them! isn’t that obvious? haven’t we sailed together long enough for this to be obvious to you?” sanji questioned, tone sharp as it was now his turn to interrogate [name].

the taller man hummed, “i suppose you’re right, i don’t know why i doubted you.”

“shit for brains,”

“thanks for being so reliable, sanji,” [name] smiled, throwing an arm around sanji’s shoulder with a wide grin on his face, “i know i can trust you. you know that, right?”

“whatever,” sanji said, uncharacteristically quiet as his shoulders and head slumped downward, hiding his facial expressions from [name].

“i mean it! you’re the strongest on merry, of course after me, oh and after luffy…hm, and i guess after zoro!” [name] said that last part in a rush, knowing it’d cause sanji to run after him in a fury. but before he detached himself from sanji’s side, he took the cigarette from him and pushed it to the corner of his mouth.

sanji processed his words, watching as [name] was running off in the direction of merry. then it clicked and he was fuming. his eyebrow became slanted as he pointed a finger at [name]’s running figure, “oi! come back here you dipshit! i’ll kick some manners into you! fucking imbecile!”

[name]’s laughter echoed in the air, along with sanji’s shouts of fury. the trail of smoke coming from the cigarette in the h/c haired man’s mouth disappearing into the night as sanji continued chasing [name] until they arrived on merry.

the blonde watched as [name] jumped onto the ship with easy, throwing the cigarette into the ocean, and teasing him once more by sticking his tongue out. then he was disappearing on deck, probably to the bathroom to shower before bed.

and sanji was breathing heavily as he watched, still on the ground and not on the ship. and he sighed to himself, putting a hand to his chest to calm his breathing. as well as racing heart. the other hand went up to his face, covering half of it as he mentally scolded himself to calm down.

god, [name] really did exhaust the hell out of sanji. in more ways than one.

tony tony chopper - forrest gump by frank ocean

“you run my mind, boy. running on my mind, boy. forrest gump. i know you, forrest. i know you wouldn’t hurt a beetle. but you’re so buff and so strong. i’m nervous, forrest. // forrest green, forrest blues. i’m remembering you. if this is love, i know it’s true. i won’t forget you. it’s for you, forrest. it’s for you forrest. forrest gump.”

chopper idolized [name], to put it very simply. from their first meeting, [name] had made a strong impression on the boy. first off, he knew he was a reindeer and correctly addressed him, which chopper learned would be a rare occurence since people seemed to think he was some sort of raccoon dog…

and ever since that moment, [name] had only shown chopper how strong and capable he was. sometimes, it makes the doctor feel inferior and not an adequate member of the straw hats because of the strength difference, but those feelings were truly rare. because [name] made sure to treat chopper as an equal as well as a friend, not someone beneath him.

chopper was currently lounging on the railway of merry, near the back of the ship and simply enjoying the breeze. it was a nice day outside and the smell of the sea was something he could never get tired of.

“chopper? what’re you doing?” [name] voice made chopper lift his head from the planks and offer a cheesy grin.

“just relaxing,” [name] smiled at the response, plopping down next to chopper and spreading his long limbs out as he sighed in content.

“do you mind if i join you?”

chopper shook his head, a smile on his face as he watched [name] visibly relax and get comfortable next to him.

“the sun’s not bothering you? it’s pretty hot, y’know,” [name] commented, waving his hand to fan the reindeer, who merely shook his head.

“nope, cause the sea breeze is cooling me off,” chopper explained, making [name] hum in understanding. chopper watched as [name] flapped the bottom of his shirt up and down to allow more air flow, showing that he was affected by the heat.

chopper remained silent, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly before he decided to not ask the question that was on his mind. as a doctor, he had a hunch as to why [name] was so sensitive to hot and cold weather, especially since their first meeting on drum island. but it was just speculation and theory. he never got a clear answer from [name]. but, then again, chopper never asked.

honestly, he was very curious about [name]. he was like a medical anomaly. dr. kureha and him were probably the only people that knew about how strange his existence was. well, chopper definitely was way more shocked about his being, but dr. kureha simply shrugged it off. this made chopper believe [name]’s case wasn’t all that crazy…

but the more he thinks about it, the more it pesters him. how is something like that even possible?

just as he was drowning in his thoughts, there was a sudden pressure against his nose. he blinks, eyes zoning in on the finger that was pressing against him. he looks up, finding a grinning [name] already staring at him.

“what were you thinking about? i could practically see steam coming from your head, chopper,” his own observation made him chuckle and chopper smiled sheepishly at being caught.

“nothing,” chopper clears his throat a couple of times before speaking again, “say, [name]?” a hum from the man he was addressing, “you’ve been a pirate for a long time right?”

e/c eyes stray away and stare out at the sea before he nods in confirmation.

“then, have you ever met anyone stronger than you? what was the craziest thing you’ve ever seen?”

[name] chuckles at the question, pursing his lips, “what’s up with everyone wondering about strong people and things? i swear, you and usopp are obsessed with that type of stuff,” it wasn’t a mean comment, the fond smile on [name]’s face made that obvious, but chopper still felt his face get warm in embarrassment.

“ever since we’ve left my island, i feel like we haven’t met anyone that exceeded you. that’s why i was wondering if before you joined luffy’s crew you had a run in with someone stronger than you,” chopper explained, feeling shy. “even in alabasta, you didn’t have a lot of trouble with the people we were facing…i didn’t see any fights! but, everyone was so badly injured, and then you were only injured because of the whole falling out of the sky thing,”

[name] laughs at the memory, scratching his neck, “that’s true, i guess. but to answer your question, there are many physically stronger people than me, without a doubt. but i still think i’m the strongest,” he’s confident and chopper can tell the man truly does believe that. it’s obvious in the way he speaks and carries himself. but what he just said was directly contradictory, wasn’t it?

“the craziest thing i’d ever seen…” [name] thinks out loud, making chopper look at him in wonder, “a guy that could control everything in a certain radius! he was a doctor like you, actually. when i first met him, it was kind of scary,”

“woah!!” chopper’s eyes immediately sprouted stars and [name] almost cooed at the sight. sometimes the man forgets how unique his experiences are, especially to someone like chopper. someone that had known only his island and that was it. “did you guys fight?! was he also another pirate?!”

“he’s another pirate, yeah, but…well, i don’t think you can call what happened fighting since i beat him up!” [name] flashed his widest grin at chopper and threw up a thumbs up.

“so cool!!!” chopper exclaimed, clapping his hands.

“i have a lot of stories, if you want to hear them?” [name] offers, stretching his long limbs out and letting out a groan at the relief.

“how about fights and stuff? i wanna see you fight some day!” the stars in chopper’s eyes seemed as if they were going to never go away as he giddily spoke to [name].

“i don’t know…most of them are really lack luster,” [name] sweatdrops, watching as chopper visibly deflates, “but that’s only because i beat everyone before they even had a chance,” and he was back to having stars in his eyes.

“woah!! so cool!!” chopper’s hooves were glasped together as he eagerly waiting for more stories.

“by the time luffy becomes pirate king, chopper, you’re going to have so many more stories than i do,” [name] comments fondly, “i never got to properly thank you, i think,”

“what for?”

“for not telling anyone about,” [name] gestures to his scars, a grin on his face despite the sad reality of his appearance, “i appreciate it,”

chopper only nodded, remembering the first time him and dr. kureha discovered the markings as well as their origins…or at least their theories on where they had come from.

”were you scared when you saw them? why do you look so scared now?”

the poor reindeer flinched at the question causing [name] to start laughing at the reaction. chopper flailed in explaining himself, not wanting to offend the man, “no, i was just, just remembering! the first time i saw them! and no, i wasn’t scared! there was no reason to be scared,” chopper’s voice trailed off as he realized that [name] was only teasing him earlier, looking off to the side to avert his eyes.

“if you say so,” [name] continues on teasing, poking the reindeer’s blue nose to which chopper smacks his hand away.

“me and dr. kureha were studying them,” chopper murmurs, “whoever had done the stitches, considering how miniscule they are, obviously did a good job. but…how were they even able to get the me-”

“pft, that’s not important,” [name] says with a carefree smile, waving his hand, “well, you’re right, the person who did them was a reaaalll professional, but i don’t think it’s important in explaining how or why,”

“was it the pirate you mentioned earlier that did them?” chopper curiously asked.

“definitely not,” [name] laughed, trying to imagine his friend being the one to give him those scars, “no, i’ve had these for a long time, chopper. which is why it’s not really relevant to me in talking about them. it doesn’t matter to me anymore, but i still don’t want people knowing so — shhh!”

chopper blinks a couple of time before nodding his head, “i’ll keep it a secret, [name],”

“thanks, chopper, i know i can trust you,” as [name] reaches out to pat chopper on his furry back, the light hit his silver necklace so perfectly that it made chopper cover his eyes to hide from the shine. that was also a big deal to [name] back then, but it was something that probably had heavy sentimental meaning.

either way, chopper was going to keep everything [name] had just told him a secret.

seeing the pleased and relaxed expression on [name]’s face, chopper was glad to know he had some sort of impact on him. it made him especially happy to know it caused a positive reaction from [name]. for how much the man does for the crew and chopper, such as dealing with his “scaredy cat” antics, the reindeer was happy to somewhat return the favor — even if it was miniscule.

meanwhile, in the back of [name]’s mind, he couldn’t help but feel a dark looming feeling only grow larger. he fought back the urge to frown, reminding himself on how understanding and sweet chopper was for keeping his secret safe. but, deep down, he was plagued with the truth and it stressed him to no end to think about the one day his secrets would have to be laid out for all the other straw hats to know too. even now, chopper didn’t even know the full truth and it was already stressing him out.

but, [name] would deal with that when the time came for it. right now, he was just happy to be looking out at the sea with his dear crew mate next to him.

nico robin - wurli by dominic fike

“stepping outside for you, then i put links on both wrists cause you got control over me. and you got jokes like you don’t need love, baby. we don’t need long. just follow my lead for once. i can never make up for the time. i’m gone make the wait all worth the ride.”

robin found [name] to be an interesting person to study.

a couple of years younger than her, a significant amount, actually, and still holding onto such a heavy weight of trauma and relatability to her. she smiles softly each time she thinks about him for too long. it’s a sad smile. on one hand, she’s happy that there could possibly be someone in her presence that could understand where she comes from as well as understanding her secrets.

but it pains her to know that someone so similar, with such similarly lived experiences, is beside her side. she wouldn’t wish a fraction of her life onto anyone else, to know that [name] undoubtedly had more than a fraction of it was heart breaking.

to many people’s surprise, nico robin is an extremely sentimental and emotional person. she has just simply forced herself to suppress those attributes of herself due to the world she lives in. but she knows herself, she knows that one of her weak point could be her emotional side.

he’s a grown man, she tells herself, to prevent herself from pitying the man too much, especially because she knows he would not appreciate a feeling of pity from anyone.

“do you want a cup of coffee, robin?” his soothing voice breaks her out of her daydreaming, collecting herself fast enough that she is able to answer with a quick nod and soft thank you. “no problem~”

she watches him expertly maneuver through the kitchen, an obvious sense of comfortability around him as he does.

what robin doesn’t know is that in the same way she finds [name] interesting to study, he feels an immense sense of wonderment and curiosity for the older woman. he knows that behind luffy, she is the only crew member that knows the most about him — beyond the headlines and bounty on his head. the other straw hats had their first impressions of him already set in stone, and he can’t blame them for that, but robin is different.

she had undoubtedly knows more than she currently lets on. only hinting to it briefly before, as far as [name] can recall.

he wonders if she has the wrong idea about him. but then he thinks of her situation and finds it hard to believe she would believe only surface level information about him. he has more faith in her than that. frankly, he’s curious enough to ask her. but he’s too scared.

genuinely terrified to know what it is that she knows, how much of his past does she know and have full capabilities of telling others about. not that she would, but naturally [name] doesn’t like not being in control of what others know about him. he often thinks if its worth it to take that risk and just ask her, he’d probably get the answer he wants.

but, wouldn’t that just be awkward?

he shakes his head as he pours the water over the ground up coffee beans, stealing a couple of whole beans from the bag to his right and chewing on them, deep in thought. he carefully carries the two tea cups to the kitchen table, taking a comfortable seat across from her and sipping his beverage.

“what are you thinking about, [name]?”

“i don’t know,” he answers semi-honestly. he can’t actually tell her where his mind wanders, but what he was thinking about…he couldn’t even collect his thoughts properly.

she only hummed, leaving them to sit in silence. but then out of nowhere, [name] slammed his head onto the table and let out a loud groan. she blinked in shock, poking his shoulder several times across the table.

“are you alright, orphan-san?”

“don’t call me that,” he mutters against the table. “that just doesn’t even sound morally right,”

she laughed behind her hand, apologizing quickly, “well, the government was never one to give morally correct names to wanted pirates,”

“yeah, i’m familiar,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “devil’s child, cursed orphan…it’s all such a shit show over there,”

robin isn’t surprised when he brings up her own epithet, “after hearing my name, you knew right away, huh?”

he thinks back to after they had left alabasta, the moment of realization, and nods in confirmation. a name was all he needed to know the woman’s entire history. he frowned, remembering exactly what it was.

“yeah, we’re the same,” he says with zero hesitation. “robin, we have the same enemy, y’know?” she hums and nods, unsure of the direction he was taking the conversation, “so, you know you’re not alone in this.”

she paused, sipping her coffee to avoid looking at him. because if she, she knew his e/c eyes would be expectantly peering at her and waiting for some form of agreement. truthfully, she didn’t want to make some sort of known “alliance” with [name] on where they stood on their shared enemy.

she’d rather not involve him. even if it were partially true.

”i sailed alone on the seas for a long time, both recently and a while ago,” he continued on, leaning into his chair and looking up at the ceiling, “being alone is more painful than getting hurt, luffy said that to me once. and for once that idiot was right about something. that’s why i’m trying to tell you now that that’s not your case.”

“i appreciate the sentimen-”

“i don’t want to get too emotional and dig too deep on stuff about this, though. i think just saying it is enough, if you ever had doubts, y’know?” he suddenly stands up, an embarrassed look on his face, “this is definitely not my style, blegh, i hate getting sentimental out of nowhere,” he hunches his shoulders, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he digests the situation he had just created.

she watches as he chugs the rest of his coffee down, places the empty cup into the sink, and easily walks out of the room. the kitchen door is softly shut behind him and robin is now left in silent stupor by herself.

she glances at the dark cup of coffee in front of her, smiling softly as she thinks about the man.

“he really is an enigma,��� she muses to herself, finishing the last drops by herself, “knowing everything about him is like knowing nothing,”

[name] was on the forefront of her mind the rest of the day, studying him and the behaviors he had shown her the entire time they had been acquainted. he had turned what would have been a soppy, probably emotional conversation, into a curt and brisk one-sided pep talk. regardless, she still had much to think about how he interacted with the others on the crew. what his dynamic was with everyone. and the state of their relationship, even though they had only recently juts met…robin feels a strong connection with him.

he really was interesting to study.

ace - dress by taylor swift

“our secrets moments in a crowded room, they got no idea about me and you. there is an indentation in the shape of you, made your mark on me — a golden tattoo. pining and anticipation, my hands are shaking from holding back from you. all of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, my hands are shaking from all this. say my name and everything just stops. i don’t want you like a best friend. only bought this suit so you could take it off. take it off. carve your name into my bedpost because i don’t want you like a best friend. // and i woke up just in time, now i wake up by your side. my one and only, my lifeline.”

“ace! c’mere,” [name] called out, making the ravenette’s head snap up and look for the man calling him. he briefly apologized to usopp, who was showing him a contraption he made, and then walked off in the direction of where the sound came from. usopp and chopper watched as ace was eagerly walking away, shrugging their shoulders at the man’s rush.

“[name]? where are yo-”

suddenly, a hang was coming out from around the corner and yanking ace by strands of his hat and into a soft embrace.

“wanna show you merry,” [name] whispered, smiling softly as he felt how warm ace was in his arms. “were you doing something important?”

“no,” ace answered instantly, looking up at [name] and taking off his hat. it was placed back onto [name]’s head and the two were walking through the ship, [name] leading.

their arms were looped with one another to stay close, and because [name] found the warmth from ace so comforting, and soon small talk spurred alive between the two.

“how is everyone treating you?” ace asked first, smirking as he watched [name]’s expression, “they’re all being good to you?”

the man rolled his eyes and shot ace a deadpan look, “why are you acting as if i am a kid and that they’re the scum of the earth? obviously everything is going fine, we’re a crew, ace,”

“sorry, can’t help but worry sometimes,” ace shrugged, tone light and teasing. “gotta look out for you when i can,”

“who said you had to do that?”

“i did, it’s my duty,”

“your duty is to keep yourself out of your own trouble, not worry about others. worrying about others like you do is gonna get you killed,” [name] advised, squeezing ace’s arm against his body and turning them into the dormitories. “well, i guess i’m a hypocrite — i worry about you a lot too,”

“you’re not gonna ask if my crew is treating me well though? that stings, [name],” ace fake winces, taking a seat into a hammock and letting it rock him back and forth.

“shut up,” [name] smirks, pushing ace down and climbing in next to him. ace tries his best to relax, not wanting to show that he was obviously freaking out at [name]’s actions. the h/c-haired man is none the wiser, simply getting comfortable against ace’s chest and hugging him tight.

“i missed you a lot, ace,” [name] speaks softly, like a whisper, “you fucking idiot, you should’ve just swallowed your pride and joined luffy’s crew,”

“or, you should’ve been smarter and joined the whitebeard pirates,” ace countered, resting his hand on top of [name]’s head.

“and leave the pirate king’s crew? don’t be dumb,” [name] shoots back, faithful to the idea of luffy being the pirate king.

ace can only scoff, a lazy smirk on his face. luffy, that brat, had truly shook their childhood selves when he declared what his dreams were as well as so confidently saying that he was going to be the king of pirates. and ace couldn’t believe that [name] so easily threw himself into luffy’s arms and crew, even when they were children.

ace envies luffy in that aspect, he supposes. how he was so capable of swaying [name]. if only ace had that ability, he’d have used it for his selfish leverage at this point. especially with [name] in his arms like this. if he had a fraction of an influence that luffy had, ace would have offered once again for [name] to join his side forever.

but knowing how devoted to luffy [name] was, ace knew it was useless.

so he’ll just cherish this moment now.

“ugh, i’m hot,” [name] groaned, sitting upright and throwing off the shirt that he was wearing. cuddling up next to a human oven was not for the weak!

ace watches with practical hearts in his eyes as he watches [name] move so fluidly in discarding his layers. then his hands reach out and lift the bottom of [name]’s shirt for him, the fabric falling from his fingers the second they weigh into his hand.

“thanks, ace,”

the ravenette can only hum in acknowledgement. he bites his lip, forcing himself into silence to not ruin the moment, and shuffles his body over to accommodate [name] by his side.

the taller man so easily fit into his side. despite the obvious size difference, but neither of them minded.

then ace’s thoughts began trailing off. he can’t help but think about if things were different. his mind often went to that when it was silent. how the present would be if it were ace in the forefront of [name]’s mind, instead of god knows what. he yearns to know what the man truly thinks of him.

he wonders what would [name] think of him he had found out that his name was etched into his skin.

he doesn’t blame anyone for not really noticing the ink. it was on his back and was miniscule in comparison to his whitebeard tattoo. on the backside of where his heart would be, permanently tattooed into his skin is the other man’s name. ace had gotten it as one of his first tattoos, actually, much before he got the whitebeard one.

he was pretty worried that the jolly roger would cover it, but after the artist on the no-name island assured him it wouldn’t, he relaxed. and to this day, the ink remains strong and bold, hardly faded with the time that had passed.

and despite it being small and barely noticeable, ace simply knowing that it’s there is more than enough for him.

ace wonders how [name] would react if he saw it. if he saw for himself how far ace is willing to go to prove his devotion and love for the man. he’d get his name tattooed and so much more, in a moment’s notice with no doubts.

ace was a loyal and devoted man. this [name] knew, but he didn’t truly know the full extent. the freckled man smiles to himself as he thinks about how [name] would react.

he shivers as he remembers the feeling of the needle etching the name permanently into his skin. it stung, but after a certain amount of time, it became a dull, vibrating sensation. he squeezes you close to him as he thinks about it, wishing he had had you there with him in that moment.

“[name]?” he drawls out his name, as if that’ll make the moment between them last longer.

“ace?” he mimics it easily, making ace smile at his behavior. he really hadn’t changed all that much from when they were younger…

“would you consider getting a tattoo for me?” he asks, the question slipping past his lips in a rather meek tone.

there is a hum to show that [name] was thinking before the man finally announces, “i would, i definitely would,”

ace thinks of the tattoo that [name] already had, the one he had seen for himself again when the man discarded his shirt. the expansive wings that were tattooed into his beautiful s/c skin. ace’s finger began dancing on the outline of them, a soft smile on his face as he remembers their meaning.

”what would get for me? something as big as this one?”

[name] weakly slaps his hand into ace’s chest, “don’t say that, don’t be dumb,”

“what? it was just a question,” ace weakly defends himself, but he understands where [name] was coming from. he’d be the only one that did, to be honest, and maybe luffy — if they’re trusting that the younger one wasn’t as emotionally constipated as they thought. “but, what would you get for me?”

“i don’t know, i haven’t thought about it,” he answers honestly, making ace pout at the lack luster answer.

“not even a little bit?”

“i don’t want to get a tattoo for you for a long time, ace. ideally, never,” ace was about to question why, feeling somewhat offended, but catching the distraught look on [name]’s face he bites his tongue. it doesn’t take him long to realize why [name] had said that. silently, he holds [name] close and hugs him. “i never want to get something like this for you,”

“it doesn’t have to be something like that-”

“why would i need a tattoo of you when i know i’ll see you again then?” [name] cuts him off, holding ace tight to his person, scared he’ll slip away, “i know i don’t have to, but the association of it is too much for me…i don’t want to think of it like that, but i can’t help it. i’ll only get a tattoo for you if you die, but that won’t happen for a long time, so just drop it.”

that leaves a long silence hanging in the air.

“you’re right, i won’t die for a long time,” ace finalizes, smiling softly at the way [name] was so easily turned into a vulnerable state of a man. not because he enjoyed the sight of it, per say, but found it heart warming to know he could invoke such an emotion in him. he was stupid for assuming he couldn’t, but insecurities are insecurities for a reason. not insecure of who they were referring to, but rather of luffy. insecure of how much that boy with the straw hat could alter [name]’s emotions and well-being. to know he had that same affect on [name] made his chest bloom with a raging warmth.

“i know you won’t, which is why i won’t think about it for a long time,” it sounds like that’s the final end to their conversation and ace is almost ready to leave it as it is. but leaving it on such a sour note leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

so he says in a light tone, “get a spade for me, right above your heart. that’s all i want,”

another slap to his bare chest is shamelessly delivered to ace and he takes it, this time with a hearty laugh.

“don’t talk about it anymore, okay? i’m serious.” [name] weakly scolds, resting his palm on ace’s heart and trying to immortalize the feeling of his heart pumping against his hand.

at the feeling of his large hand resting on his skin, ace remembers just how badly he had missed this. just being close to each other and being able to just touch each other. being so far apart took a bigger toll on him than he imagined.

“what about you? want me to get another tattoo for you?” ace asks, curious to hear what [name] had to say.

“hm, i don’t know, what would you have had in mind if you did?” now it was [name]’s turn to have his fingers dance on the ink of ace’s skin, “i really like this one already,” ace can feel the smile on [name]’s face grow in size, “i really do,”

“i’m glad,” ace comments, “i got it for you after all, it would suck if you didn’t like it.”

another slap to his chest.

“as for another one…” [name] goes silent, trying to think, “wouldn’t you just get my name? i mean, that’s the only one other thing you could get for me,”

ace blinks, wondering how [name] could so easily read him.

“really, you think so? that’s a pretty big commitment,” ace comments, trying to play it off casually and not show that he was freaking out very hard on the inside. [name] had so easily predicted him! but, at least the man didn’t know that it was a reality…

“i know, but that’s the thing with you — you’re completely committed and loyal. i think you’re definitely the type to just get my name,” [name] grins up at him, teasing him by rufflinf his hair.

“oh, shut up,” ace defends himself, smooshing [name]’s face far away, “i’d never get something as cheesy as that,”

“i never said you would, i was just predicting!!” he puts his hands up in surrender, making ace sigh and release the palm he was resting on his face. “who knows, maybe next time we see each other you’re gonna have my name tattooed on your forehead because you love me that much!”

it was an obvious tease, but it got ace incredibly flustered. he sighed, looking off to the side, trying to hide his blush and be stubbornly in denial of how accurate [name]’s prediction were.

“well, i like this one you have for now and i think it’s perfect,” [name] says, lifting ace’s spirits one last time and tapping the skin before getting out of the hammock and grabbing his shirt off of the floor. “let’s go back up, the crew might have discovered something,”

“you don’t wanna stay here longer with me?” ace whines, half joking and half serious. he wishes he could stay here forever. just with [name].

[name] smiles softly, shaking his head and watching as the ravenette reluctantly gets out of his resting position.

“whatever, next time you owe me a proper nap,” ace grumbled, stretching and walking out of the dormitory area.

“yeah, when’s next time?”

“i don’t know, but i guess on my pop’s ship. i’ll bring you to meet the family, then,” ace shrugs as if it’s no big deal, but deep down he’s eager to have the most important person in his life ([name], if it wasn't obvious) meet his found family.

“i’ll look forward to it,” [name] says sincerely, smiling as he looks at the tattoo on ace’s back. he’d be more than honored to meet them, meet the people that had given ace hope in having a shot in the world — for people to take him seriously.

if he had just shifted his e/c more downwards, he would have seen the commemorative tattoo of the person that had singlehandedly given ace’s life meaning. an etching of ink that was more powerful and sentimental than [name] would have probably realized.

after all, [name] was the first only and only person to make ace realize his life wasn’t completely worthless and that there was hope for him. but that’s a story for another time.

-

[ .ᐟ ]  if there are any typos, ignore for now. it is 5:55 am (omg coincidence) as im posting this and i plan on knocking out immediatley after i hit publish <3 i will fix any major mistakes hwne i wake up I HOPE U ENJOYED EVERYONE OKKKK BYE (im going to update very very very very soon btw <3) (and i actually mean it by very soon) (porbably tomorrow / technically today) 

[guardian-angle22]

Happy to present to y'all this 911LS fic list for stories related to one of my favorite episodes 3.13 Riddle of the Sphynx! I try to make these as comprehensive as possible, so if you have any you think I missed, let me know so I can add them. (I also might make edits to these posts to add more fics as they get written. If I ever do so I'll be sure to reblog the post for visibility!)

Enjoy all of our amazing fandom writers and leave them some comments & love!

[Disclaimers: • If you're an author and don't like to be tagged or linked for any reason, let me know and I'll remove the tag and make sure not to do so in the future, no questions asked. • I usually post TWs in rec lists. Due to the episode subject matter, assume all of these have a TW for discussion of addiction/drug use and possibly discussion of parent death/grief.]

◆ Heard the risk is drowning by @paperstorm (Words: 15.3 K; Rating: M)

A tag for 3x13, "Riddle of the Sphynx", in which Carlos combats his own insecurities as TK tries to heal.

◆ Chasers by @carlos-in-glasses (Words: 13.4K; Rating: E)

After 3x13 – while TK is alone with Cooper, Carlos is alone with his thoughts. Both recall times they’ve chased the next high, other men, or each other. When Carlos arrives home, TK still has something important to say – and it's something he didn’t tell Cooper.

◆ trying my best by @reyescarlos (Words: 10.3K; Rating: M)

An exploration of TK's sobriety journey from 2017 to now. Or, a season 3 coda spanning 3x08-3x13

◆ You Showed me How it feels to Truly be Seen by @ramblingdisaster73 (Words: 3K; Rating: T)

Carlos works through the events of 3x13 "The Riddle of the Sphinx".

◆ Measure of a Man by @chicgeekgirl89 (Words: 1.8K; Rating: T)

“I want to be everything you need. That I can’t be, it hurts, T.K. It feels like a failure on my part. And as much as I’m trying to accept it, it’s hard.” A 3x13 coda in which Carlos struggles with a new definition of being "enough."

◆ I'll be here all the same by @strandnreyes (Words: 4.8K; Rating: G)

“I am glad you have someone you can talk to who can maybe do a better job at fixing things,” Carlos insists before dropping his eyes to their tangled together fingers. “All I want is for you to be okay.”It’s not surprising to hear, but it hits as if it was. That really is the root of this whole thing. As much as Carlos wants to do what he can to be the person to get TK to that place, at the end of the day all he really wants is for TK to get there.“I will be.”Or, three late night conversations following the events of 3.13

◆ Trigger by comes2gusu (Words: 4.7K; Rating: T)

TK is struggling with his newly found sobriety. After being triggered at an NA meeting, Cooper takes TK for omelets

◆ this love we carry by @thevenstar (Words: 7.6K; Rating: T)

A 3x13 coda in which Carlos has a conversation with a friend, puts his heart to rest, and learns that walking away does not mean surrender.

◆ Those Pieces by @taralaurel (Words: 7.3K; Rating: M)

"I, I'm not telling you all - this - so you can fix me," TK huffs a hot breath against Carlos' chin, "or save me or really, do anything, okay?" Carlos nods against TK's forehead. TK has done a lot of things in his life to deserve the bad that has happened to him. He has no idea what good he's done to deserve Carlos. Coda to 3x13

◆ the one i want by @chaotictarlos (Words: 2K; Rating: E)

TK gets Carlos to take his shirt off.

◆ i want you to unravel me by @reyescarlos (Words: 4.2K; Rating: E)

In the aftermath of the strain that's fallen over them, TK and Carlos bridge the gap with open conversation that brings them closer together, both emotionally and physically. [3x13 coda]

◆ Just Wanna Breathe by @theoceanismyinkwell (Words: 1.9K; Rating: G)

Carlos doesn’t dare look at him for long, knowing that his eyes have always been the window to his soul, the weakest part of his body, unveiling everything in the well of truths he’s kept a lid on for years and years. His family may not be able to read him as well as he feared for the decades he was in the closet, but TK has a way of crashing into his life with a formidable gentleness and a piercing understanding that unmoors him in every possible way.And that’s precisely what TK is doing now, keeping the warmth of his palms flush against the beating of Carlos’ skin, cradling his face, forcing them both to gaze into each other’s eyes and face each other’s unspoken terrors without flinching.TK sounds like he has a lump in his throat. “I’m going to say something, and I want you to listen to me and I want you to remember it.”---Or: What happens when Carlos comes back home after TK's talk with Cooper, and the confessions that spill out after.

◆ waiting on the sidelines by @morganaspendragonss (Words: 1.5K; Rating: T)

They’d promised each other no more secrets, and while Carlos rationally knows that these aren’t exactly secrets, there’s still this grain of resentment inside of him that scratches away with every beat of his heart. It’s something he can’t let show in front of TK ever again, which is why he’s here, outside Owen's house while TK and Cooper talk in the loft.If anyone’s going to understand what he’s feeling, it’s Owen Strand.

◆ Three Weeks In by @masterroadtripper (Words: 3K; Rating: T; TW: self-harm)

It’d been three weeks since Sadie had drugged them - nineteen days since TK started a ninety-day NA sobriety program at the local Synagogue and eleven days since Carlos had met Cooper for the first time - before Carlos realized that there was something else TK wasn’t telling him.

◆ What We Need by Ehm (Words: 3.1K; Rating: T)

"You okay, bud?" Cooper startled him out of his thoughts and he let go of the spoon with a clinking noise. He straightened up, embarrassed. "Sorry, I zoned out." "I can see that," Cooper sounded vaguely amused. "You wanna talk about it?" --- Three times TK has a conversation with Cooper, and one time he talks to Carlos. Or, 3x13 and beyond from TK's point of view.

◆ Nocturne by @sanctuaryforalluniverses (Words: 735; Rating: T)

Carlos comes home. (Post-ep for 3x13)

◆ Precious Love by @rmd-writes (Words: 11.6K; Rating: M)

This is five times TK thinks he doesn’t deserve love and one time he knows he does – an exploration of TK’s relationship with love and self-worth.

◆ Inside a snow globe by @goodways (Words: 6.9K; Rating: E)

It isn’t until TK is on top, lavishing Carlos’ neck, stroking his hand up his side, that Carlos brings their faces together, barely a suggestion of a kiss between them. He holds TK’s jaw and keeps him close whilst he readies the question in his mind. He breathes out a straightforward and tempting, “fuck me,” over TK’s lips which silences the world outside their bedroom. TK’s response whenever he’s asked for this has few variations between immediate enthusiastic compliancy and the sweet reassurance he knows Carlos is dying for. The answer is always yes. - The evening after TK gets his one month sobriety chip.

◆ my home has been your heart since the day i met you by @lavendergiroux (Words: 1.8K; Rating: M)

After Carlos leaves Cooper and TK to talk, all they do is talk about him. When Carlos comes home - they are still talking about him.

◆ Deep Talks and Cuddles by raniaswritings (Words: 1.2K; Rating: T)

TK talks to Cooper and Carlos comes back home after a few hours

◆ “What are you doing?” “I don’t want you to do that.” by @irispurpurea (Words: 1.1K; Rating: T)

Fictober 2022 Day 13 and 14. Prompts: “What are you doing?” “I don’t want you to do that.” “What are you doing?” Carlos looks up to find TK frowning at him from their bedroom. “I…” Carlos holds up the blanket in his hands, unsure what else to say. He thinks it’s pretty obvious what he’s doing. Then again, tonight has proven that he can’t do anything right, apparently, when it comes to TK.

◆ "It's your shirt..." by @lavendergiroux (Words: 780; Rating: M)

TK really didn't want to talk about it, he just really needed Carlos to claim him...

◆ sunkissed face by mooshkat (Words: 1K; Rating: T)

To show his appreciation, TK decides to make Carlos breakfast.

Spec Fics Written Prior to the Episode Airing/Canon Convergence:

◆ if the darkness comes, i'll stay by @doublel27 (Words: 3.2K; Rating: T)

“I had some things to do,” TK says, his stomach twisting. “Some things?” “Carlos, I texted,” TK reminds his boyfriend, because he did. “It’s fine.” “Is it?” Carlos asks, his voice dangerously calm. or TK comes home late for the third night in one week, and he and Carlos have a necessary confrontation. A speculative fic for 3x13.

◆ Caught by @littlemissmarianna (Words: 761; Rating: G)

“Who’s that?” Carlos doesn’t answer Mitchell’s question because he doesn’t know. There’s only a handful of people he can identify from the back, and this guy isn’t on the list. He has broad shoulders, though, and nice hair and is probably good-looking. Why else would TK be staring at him so intently?

◆ In Order to Get Back to Us by reyestrand (Words: 2.2K; Rating: G)

Carlos waits up for TK when he’s late coming home and they talk about the things they’re afraid to. - a 3x13 speculation fic

◆ still comparing your past to my future by @kiras-sunshine (Words: 17.4K; Rating: T)

Something else than the wallowing feeling of uneasiness, anxiety and hurt in the bottom of his stomach. All of it seems to have a chokehold on his heart and no matter what he tries to think about, his thoughts always go back to TK, to worry that keeps mixing in with everything, and the brightness of TK’s smile, the way the corner of his mouth curled up and his eyes shone, when he smiled at someone else than him.

[frostdemigod]

Lads, new endfield trailer dropped and we see some stuff. I'll put my entire thoughts and stuff under the read more for spoilers sake but also because I ramble a lot

A Surtr clone(?) and an Aurora clone

And I know they're clones for one reason. Just like Angelina, they were infected. Endfield has no cure for oripathy, at least from what I remember. So they would make clones and do memory transplants like Angelina did, but her files show that she is clearly her own person, she looks the same and has the memories and stories of the old Angelina, but she knows she isn't her.

Warfarin is alive, as mentioned from Angie's files, and she probably isn't a clone, mainly due to sarkaz having insane lifespans. Surtr would probably be the same if she wasn't infected. Oripathy isn't gonna spare her for 300 odd years, so her being a clone is probably a guarantee. Unless the oripathy meds had an advancement great enough to stall her infection for that long, until it became cheap enough to manufacture constantly. I know Eyja's oripathy got worse so Surtr isn't entirely safe, although her infection level is still pretty low in arknights.

But isn't this like. Super sad? Imagine seeing someone who looks exactly like one you shared memories with, spent time together with... They have those memories, and they look just like them. But they aren't the same person. They have their own personality and everything. They just have the memories injected in there.

They're not the people you used to know. They never will be.

I just find this like super depressing... the more I think about it the less I want to see the old ak cast in endfield, show me future generations like the new ch'en and stuff! That's cool! They lived a happy life and the family is still going! Continuing traditions, mentioning history, reminiscing about their ancestors. I love that idea! The world truly feels like it moves!!

But seeing someone you used to know as a ship of theseus situation... that like... really hurts man. Yeah they probably wanted to try the clone thing, but it isn't perfect. It's not like a robotic body you just plug in a program into and it's good to go. You're just injecting some of the past in there but they doesnt become the person the memories are from.

Like, am I weird for this incoherent rambling about the logistics of this? That I don't want to see characters I like basically cloned in this manner, because it gives me an inexplicable sadness about the situation. That our best solution to oripathy is a copy-paste method that we haven't even perfected yet as a "cure" or some medication to delay the inevitable.

The chances of Shana appearing in endfield are nonexistent. She doesn't even have a story appearance in arknights itself aside from her operator record. I know that if we do get more old cast, it would probably be the infected ones too, and this genuinely makes me happy in a twisted way. I don't want to see her like that. It'd hurt. So the chances being as slim as they are is soothing, but it isn't 0. That's what terrifies me.

Imagine I somehow was put in a couple century stasis and woke up and saw my brother the same as before. I imagine he went through the same as me, we talk, everything is normal. But then I learn that he isn't my brother, just has the memories and same body but his personality is different, his likes, dislikes, fears, it's all different... I'd be terrified man. I want to scream, run away, cry. It's like a skinwalker, some scenario straight out of a horror setting. Arknights is a terrifying setting as is. But this makes it much, much more eerie. So with every returning operator, the sadder the setting of endfield makes me.

[shithowdy]

can we ask about those fallout ocs from the trailer?????? i wanna know about everybody 👀

Hello anon have a seat beside me

Thank you for asking about them!! 'Trailer' bears such heavy implications of a followup project and while I can dream... well, I can dream. 🥲

The characters are from an ongoing RP I am doing with @ninamodaffari and @sakom75 that takes place a few years before New Vegas. It surrounds the personal story of our main three guys unraveling their extremely fateful connections, while at the same time being the origin story of our setting's Courier Six as a recurring antagonist.

Some character blurbs! I tried to make these brief but I failed.

The cowboy ghoul is my boy Oliver, who began as a cowboy death knight in world of warcraft back in 2009 (who remains my avatar, my brannnnd). His past as a paladin now living a life as a near-immortal deformed ex-human at risk of losing his mind at any moment translated so well into the setting. After being forced into retirement from his 30-year army career due to a "medical discharge" (had a heart attack inside power armor after being given experimental stimulant drugs) he returned to his roots and bought a ranch, which is where he was when the bombs fell. After he and his employees failed to drive their herd toward a radio signal calling for mutual aid due to the radstorm that began his ghoulification, he instead rode west through the desert to begin his completely delusional quest to find the resting place of his son, who he only knew was in a non-vault-tec vault around Southern California. He was obviously stymied by the impossibility of it, and eventually became a nameless fixture of the wasteland along the I-10, with the recent nickname of 'Matador' by locals due to his skirmishing with the Legion operating out of the growing Fort Blythe.

Dallas (larger, in coat) and Emil (little guy) belong to Sako and Nina respectively. Dallas was born to a Legion officer in the faction's infancy and was raised to be a brutal killer at a young age, which made his eventual defection as a teenager very easy. He surrendered himself to a ranger named Sancho, who after it became clear he was a true defector ended up "adopting" him and helping him integrate and, eventually, become a ranger himself. While dodging bounties offered by his father, his goal is to find his mother and, after he was swept away in the Colorado a few years ago, Sancho-- he does not believe him to be dead. (He's correct)

Due to his search, he tries to take a lot of solo scouting missions to cover as much ground as he can, and it's on one of these missions he met Emil near the central coast while pursuing some fiends with a captive. Emil had recently emerged from an underground facility further north with only the name E412, a mutant resulting from very similar experiments to those from Vault 4 except with the purpose of manufacturing psykers in what was supposed to be some kind of new world governance scheme but flopped with the bombs. Except the robots overseeing it weren't programmed to consider the bombs, and kept the scientists that had previously been tricked into working there on orders even when there wasn't a world left. Also, the program was nonsense and relied on harvested DNA from a dwindling staff. Most of the staff died by their own hand, resulting in the on-and-off cryo cycling of those that remained, leaving them frostbitten husks with numerous replaced parts working for an impossible goal. They conspired secretly to end the facility, but it was difficult. One such place to drop notes was near the composting area, where one could even at times hear rain through the vents. A scientist one day found mushrooms growing here, and introduced them into his process just for something different.

He didn't expect it to work.

Oliver was wrong, his son Chadley was not in southern California. He had been tricked with hundreds of others into a new contract of secrecy, and before he could communicate his fear aboveground, the world ended. His death was not two hundred years ago but mere weeks, when he finally sent the facility into shutdown, leaving the creatures there to fend for themselves against the robot overseers. E412 escaped at last, only to find a bag on his head. After being rescued by Dallas, he was given a proper name and it was insisted he tag along.

Weeks later the pair found themselves sheltering from a hunting party after Dallas: mercenaries on Legion hire, accompanied by a Centurion and his own party. A convergence of fates had them shelter in the Matador's home of all places, and after reversing a staunch refusal to help them when he realized helping them = annoying the Legion, he agreed to guard and guide them so they could get to a Followers base in Arcadia so Dallas could get some shrapnel from a prior assassination attempt removed. In charge of this base is Dr. Wei Song, another of Oliver's young wasteland rescues from decades before and the only person he has a continued relationship with.

But rejecting extended companionship, Oliver left them at Arcadia after having barely learned about them and went home, where the same failed assassin that left shrapnel in Dallas waited for him in the rafters with a dartgun full of RadAway. This was Frumentarius Lupus Rex, who was supposed to be kind of a one-off dollar store Vulpes Inculta (which says a lot i know) for our own plot but got oops'd into being a real character when he showed a smidgen of honor and Oliver, his captive, asked him his "real name".

Thus began the conflict of Lupus Rex vs. Vasco Sawtooth, the tribal boy repressing years of trauma and hate for the sake of simply surviving. He realized, like Dallas, there are other options and resolved to undo what happened but was caught by his superior, Princeps Peregrinorum Scaevola, and lost his arm in the process.

A former Brotherhood paladin who valued power more than the Brotherhood's goals, Scaevola defected when he saw the Legion growing in power as a "tribe" and knew he could secure a position he could abuse there much more easily. Which he did, by throwing himself at Caesar's feet with a whole host of energy weapons/ammo/powerfists. While remaining loyal he did retain old connections (and made new ones, such as a close friendship with Dallas' father Viator) and with these connections he had his traitorous pet "remade", rank stripped, left nothing but a living weapon operating outside the bounds of typical Legion method.

Kind of the Shadow to Emil's sonic, he pursues without choice until the favor is finally able to be returned. We haven't gotten to this point in the RP yet, but eventually he will find his freedom and guidance under Francine, a [redacted] recently emerged from cryo and rather than following operations destroyed her facility and started a diner.

Through her he'll learn how to function like a normal person and, eventually, find a job of his own as a courier. A nice, normal, easy job.

If you read all that I'm kissing you with tongue.

[final-bae-stination]

Fight Me For His Health (Avatar: The Way Of Water)

This is the only picture I could find, for some reason, of both of them hurt. Please, though, imagine them as their real selves, not human like in the picture, okay?

The second photo is the room mentioned with Lo'ak.

Prompt: Let's pretend that on the SeaDragon, which is the tulkun hunting ship, Neteyam does get shot, but let's say he survives (because, as always, in my stories, he lives). Lo'ak, who was being...erm, tortured (A/N: Because your author wants as much angst as possible) freaks out and basically annihilates the soldiers for hurting his brother, his protector.

This gets bloody. And violent, like, really quickly, so please be warned.

I believe I wrote a scene/one shot where Neteyam lost control and like...tore someone's throat out. Now, we're going to see Lo'ak's way of doing it, which is almost the same but...well, just read. GORE WARNING!

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

Third Person POV

Neteyam knew his siblings and Tsireya were in trouble. He felt it, the same way Neytiri had once known without being there that Kiri had broken her arm when she was ten from falling out of a tree and had run to get her. He knew it the same way he knew Lo'ak would run to warn Payakan about the charges. He knew it the same time that his siblings and Tsireya didn't return home, and he had to go get them.

He knew it, deep in his bones, and he was going to fix it.

Lo'ak's Perspective

The ship, called the SeaDragon, was a tulkun hunting ship commandeered by Miles Quaritch, Spider's real dad and Jake's enemy since the Pandoran War fifteen years ago. Tsireya and Tuk were tied with restraints slapped to the bars. Tuk growled, tugging uselessly at them, but it was no use.

Quaritch stopped his Recom solider as the girl with tattoos over her blue skin went to tie Lo'ak up. "Put him in the Room." He snarled, his gold eyes filled with hate. Lo'ak glared right back as he was marched away to a white room with only a table in it. Lo'ak turned, trying to suddenly attack, and was backhanded so hard he fell to the floor, groaning in pain, glaring. The Recom woman just snickered, shutting the door and disappearing.

Warning: Trigger For Torture!

He sat in there for ten minutes, wondering what was happening, what was going to happen, when the door opened again. Quaritch bent, coming in the doorway, and Lo'ak hissed, backing up. Quaritch didn't flinch.

He carefully walked to the table, as close as he dared to get. "Where's your father and mother?" Quaritch asked. "Kä ne kllte, teylupil! Kalweyeveng!" Lo'ak hissed, which was Na'vi for Go to the ground, teylu-face! Son of a bitch! He glared hotly as Quaritch's face twisted. "I don't think you want to test me, kid." He snarled, but Lo'ak wasn't budging. "Kalweyev--" He didn't get to finish before Quaritch hit him, so hard his ears rang, as his head snapped back, slamming against the glass behind him. Lo'ak cried out, knees crumpling, and heard Quaritch snarl, "Where are they?!" "Fuck off!" Lo'ak shouted, in English, and was rewarded with a sharp kick to the ribs, making him yelp. Quaritch yanked him up by the base of his queue, making Lo'ak scream, clawing at his hands, but Quaritch wasn't letting go. "I have no qualms about killin' a bunch of blue rats," Quaritch spits. "Don't make me." He dropped Lo'ak, and Lo'ak coughed, groaning softly.

Neteyam POV

Neteyam was on an ilu, talking to Aonung and Rotxo. "They must've been caught," Rotxo says, his blue eyes wide with fear. "What will they do?" "It doesn't matter!" Aonung snarled, ears flat. "That is my sister, we are going!" he shouted.

Neteyam shared a look with Rotxo. "I am going, for that's my family." Neteyam whispered. Rotxo's eyes hardened like blue gems, and he climbed on his ilu. "Stick together," he said, which was a phrase often used by the Sully kids. Neteyam blinked, surprised that he'd picked it up, but then all three turned, racing for sea.

Back To Lo'ak...

!! Torture warning, tried not to make it too descriptive !!

He was in the room still, but was by no means able to currently rise. That woman, the one with the tattoos, seemed to love hurting him under Quaritch's orders. "Just don't kill him" was all Quaritch had said before leaving, and she hadn't, just beat him to the point he was tired of moving, even to twitch his fingers. She smirked down at him now. "What's wrong, baby?" She giggled. "Too tired?"

His hiss was like a tiny puff of air, not threatening at all. She snorted, kicking him in the face. His head snapped back, but he didn't even have the energy to scream anymore. He could only lay there, bleeding and broken. His breath rattled in his chest, and he found himself thinking of home, of his mom and Dad, no matter how rocky their relationship was. He found himself thinking of baby Tuk, of Kiri in the jungle, asleep as the wood sprites drifted over her. Of Neteyam, telling him not to go down to the battlefield as they scouted, and he wondered where Tsireya was. Is she hurt? Are they hurting her? But he didn't---couldn't---think of that too long, because any thought of her in pain hurt him, too.

The woman's boot landed painfully on his ribs, and this time, he screamed, writhing, as something snapped. "I'm talking to you!" She shouted over his cries. He turned, trying to be fast, and sank his teeth into her ankle. She yelped, her fist landing on his face, three times before she could make him let go, and her hits were not soft. Fresh blood spilled from his nose and lips until he was forced to let her go. In retaliation, she became reckless and just started kicking the shit out of him, and he heard several sickening snaps before Quaritch was shouting at her to stop. "He's no use to me dead, Z!" He yelled. She was breathing hard, eyes flat and dark gold, her ankle gushing blood. "Out." Quaritch growled, and she stormed out, muttering under her breath. Quaritch merely glanced at Lo'ak's broken and bruised body before leaving. Lo'ak wasn't sure how much more he could take.

NETEYAM

Neteyam pushed his ilu as close as it could get to the hull, slipping his queue from the neural queue of his ilu. Aonung and Rotxo did the same. "Follow me, do not make a sound," Neteyam hissed, reaching for the side of the low ship. Aonung and Rotxo climbed after him, all three boys slipping behind huge crates as someone walked by. "Yeah," The voice, a woman, was saying. "Hey, that blue boy?" She laughed, and Neteyam, Aonung, and Rotxo shared a glance. Lo'ak? Rotxo mouthed, and Neteyam nodded.

"What about him?" A male voice asked, slightly deep and raspy. "Well, after I got done with him, he was more red than blue." Cold laughter. Neteyam's brain seemed to short-circuit. He was more red than blue...red is blood...

What has she done to my brother? He snarled in his head.

The two voices faded, two blue smears walking inside, and Neteyam saw them: the girls, Tuk and Tsireya, bawling against the railing, and he was shook. Tuk looked fine, physically, if not a little shaken up, but he was the eldest brother. He noticed a scratch on her face, a bruise on her cheek. If that wasn't enough, Tsireya's cheek was covered in blood from what looked like a knife slash, and she had bruises on her throat, arms, and face.

Aonung saw red.

"Don't!" Rotxo shouted, but it was too late.

With a shriek, Aonung threw himself at the nearest Recom, fingers spasming into claws and grabbing the guy around the throat before he could even squeak. Both toppled to the ground, and surprisingly, no one came running as Aonung slammed the guy's face into the deck, once, twice---crack! Snap!---three times before dropping him. "Nung!" Tsireya cried, tears falling down her cheeks as the three boys rushed over.

"Tuk-Tuk," Neteyam breathed, sawing with his blade at the restraints with his knife. He gulped, "Where's Lo'ak?"

She looked at him, her eyes full of tears, breaking Neteyam's heart. "T-they said the wh-white room..." She bawled. Neteyam glanced at Rotxo. "Can you get her to safety?" He asked sharply. Rotxo nodded. "Come," He told Tuk, who obediently climbed in his arms, and he slung her on his back as Aonung, helping Tsireya, called the ilu. As the creatures appeared, Aonung whispered, "Come back, okay?" He nodded once at Neteyam and helped his sister down, then joined her. Rotxo climbed over the railing carefully, Tuk glancing at Neteyam once more before she was gone.

Neteyam snuck through the ship, ducking behind crates and whatever was available when someone came around. He kept his ears and eyes open, moved as silently as possible, and wasn't caught, luckily. He made it around a bend and saw the white room, through two doorways, which made him curse. He'd have to either risk it and sneak in, or wait until the two Avatars currently in there left. But...he couldn't see Lo'ak. Where is that skxawng? He wondered.

Then, he saw him, and his world stopped, broke, and crashed. Lo'ak was being yanked up by he queue, which made Neteyam wince just watching it, and his face was bloody, bruises coloring his skin like a fucking ink splatter of blood and different shades of black, blue, and purple...and red, of course. His left arm looked broken, and his eyes were slipping shut. "Let's go," A heavily tattooed Na'vi Recom said, and the man dropped Lo'ak. Even out here, Neteyam could hear the thud his body made, and it made him cringe away. The Recoms exited the white room, stalking down the hall, laughing, like they didn't just beat the shit out of a kid with his (pissed, protective) brother watching. The moment they were gone, Neteyam bolted inside...

And nearly fell backwards, shocked, eyes wide. Blood covered the floor in thin streaks, clearly done by Lo'ak, presumably, dragging himself across the floor the way he was now, without even turning, like he was terrified Neteyam was one of the Recoms come to hurt him. "Lo!" He shouted, and Lo'ak went tense, then suddenly limp, and Neteyam heard him crying against the floor.

Neteyam rushed over, hands fluttering, unsure of where the fuck he could touch Lo'ak without hurting him. "They're...coming back," Lo'ak whispered, and glanced up. Neteyam recoiled at the bruises on his baby brother's face. "Just...just go. Quaritch won't let them kill me, not without Dad." "I'm not leaving you!" Neteyam screamed.

A door slammed. "There he is!" He turned, snarling.

Quaritch raised his hands. "Easy, kid. I won't kill you or your brother, alright?" He grinned, but Neteyam wasn't fazed. He stood, muscles tense, and as Quaritch took a step forward, hissed, to the point where Quaritch blinked, stepping back again. "Alright, alright," He said, raising his hands. "I get it, don't come close." He nodded. "I can do that. However, I need him." He smirked. "Your father's here. I made a deal, and he accepted: his sons for his life." No. Neteyam didn't want to believe it. But that was his dad, he'd do anything for his sons. Even die? What about Mom, or Tuk and Kiri and me and Lo'ak? He wondered. "Let us go, then." "Ah, it's...not exactly that easy. But!" He said as Neteyam's ears started flattening. "I can tell you, the moment he steps onboard, you're free." Neteyam paused. He wanted to rip this guy's fucking throat out, and it grew stronger when he glanced at Lo'ak, crumpled, bruised, bloody, and broken, in the corner, eyes foggy. "Don't, Teyam..." He whispered, the energy to speak leaving him. Neteyam glanced back at Quaritch. "Then let us go." Quaritch waved a hand. "I will. Don't fight," He said as four Recoms came in, two grabbing Lo'ak and two restraining Neteyam. He stayed still, knowing it would be worse, at least right now, to fight.

ON THE DECK

Neteyam saw them first: The Olo'eyktan, Tonowari, with his mate, Ronal. Then, his mother, her eyes hard and dark gold. His heart jumped into his throat, seeing Kiri beside her, her hand on her knife. Thankfully, Rotxo, Tuk, Aonung, and Tsireya were not there. "Mama," He heard Lo'ak wheeze, and it broke Neteyam's heart.

"Jake," Quaritch called. "Come on down," He laughed. Neteyam saw his father kiss his mother, saw him kiss Kiri's head, then come in on a skimwing. "NO!" He screamed suddenly, thrashing. "No, Dad, don't---Ah!" He yelped as something slammed into his face, knocking him to the ground. He was yanked up immediately by his queue, making him scream in pain until that was all he could hear. "Stop, stop it!" Jake was suddenly on the deck. Looking at Lo'ak, Neteyam realized, and he was horrified. "What have you done to my son?" Jake breathed, his eyes darkening. "What I had to." Quaritch snarled.

"Dad..." Lo'ak mumbled, his lips swelling from the bruises. The tattooed lady holding him snarled, "Shut up," her (actually pretty) blue face twisted in rage. Lo'ak ignored her. "Dad, I'm sorry--" He yelped, high and piercing, as the woman slammed her pistol into his already busted nose. That was the last straw for Neteyam.

He shrieked, a weird sort of scream that belonged to a demon, and twisted as the man holding him tried to regain a grip. He swung without really looking, hearing a sickening crunch as chaos exploded around the ship. Jake lunged, the other Na'vi came running (or gliding on ilu and whatnot), and the battle begun. He fought his way towards Lo'ak, who was crumpled on the ground, eyes shut. No, no, please, Eywa, don't take him, Neteyam thought, blindly punching someone else. He heard a sudden shriek and turned, seeing his dad with a knife in his shoulder.

Neteyam was tackled before he could open his mouth.

It was the tattooed lady, snarling as her hands wrapped around his throat. Jake was still in a struggle with three others, the other Na'vi distracted and Lo'ak out for the count, so he was on his own. He choked, tail slapping thickly against the metal deck, and scrabbled for his knife sheath, finally unclipping it and yanking out his blade, but she saw that, smacking his hand. Neteyam's knife slid over the deck, rattling against the metal, and was flung over the side of the ship, lost in the sea. His heart ached almost as much as his lungs. His grandmother, Mo'at, had given him the knife, saying she was proud of him. It was like she was gone, now, too.

The woman laughed, her canines flashing in the sun. "After I kill you, baby blue," She mocked. "I'm killing the other." Her gold eyes flicked to Lo'ak, still unmoving, and that. Was. It. He screamed, his hands flying to her face, and dug his nails into her flesh, her cheeks, the only thing he could think of to get her far enough away. She howled in pain, letting go to clasp her cheeks, and Neteyam, moving on survival instinct, lunged, his mouth open, and sank his canines into her throat.

Her blood spurted from her neck, where Neteyam's canines were lodged up to the gums, and he wasn't letting go. She screamed, gurgling, as he pushed her back, teeth still firm, and jerked back, tearing her throat open, blood gushing from her neck all over Neteyam's mouth and chin, down his chest, and dripping to the metal deck like water. She gasped, gurgling wetly, eyes wide, blood staining both her and Neteyam, before she seized and went still. He was breathing hard, blood covering most of his front and his hands, and turned, eyes wild. Kiri, Jake, Neytiri, and Ronal were staring at him, and he wasn't totally sure if they were horrified or not. "Holy, shit," Kiri said. A groan interrupted them, and Lo'ak blinked, coming to. "Lo--" Neteyam froze, about to run over, but...but he was covered in blood. He couldn't see his brother. He backed up, eyes on Lo'ak, who was shaking his head. Kiri, always so understanding, put a hand on his arm, moving past him to Lo'ak. Lo'ak was staring at Neteyam, and Neteyam...he felt, for the first time in his life, like a monster. Like the demon everyone thought his father was. "I'm so sorry," He whispered, his voice loud like a gunshot in the silence. Lo'ak stood with Kiri's help and stumbled over. He kneeled, grasping a dead recom's shirt and ripping it in half before his fingers, five instead of four, touched Neteyam's cheek, soft as a feather, and wiped the blood away, all without a word. Finally, he spoke. "You're my brother, my tsmukan. Don't act like I'm scared of you," Lo'ak snapped, throwing the cloth, now stained red, to the side. "Oel ngati kameie, tsmukan."

"Oel ngati kameie," Neteyam whispered, tears filling his eyes. *******************************************************************

Glossary: Tsmukan = Brother. Oel ngati kameie = I See You.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 7

A/N: I feel like an ass for posting this one, surely I am cockblocking, but this slow-burning is here for a reason! Enjoy regardless! Mentions of anatomy and some language, Y/N gets drunk and nearly blurts all.

Summary: To be loved is to be changed.

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Chapter 7

In the day, Adrian was as glorious as the sun. At night, as beautiful and haunting as the moon and its glow.

In the month you had been in the castle, you had turned the once secluded castle into a living, existing place, for you and Adrian to simply ignore the rest of the world in. It had grown not to resemble a tattered and destroyed ruin, but instead, a place Adrian could call home once again.

Adrian himself had flourished in his skin once more: where you found him to take up hobbies when you were not with him. Before was once a man, lonely beyond an age before the age of twenty, losing his parents and closest allies, now, a man you could look upon with admiration and pride. He had grown out from his enclosed shell, opening his heart to a stranger, trusting you with his life unlike those who betrayed him.

It hurt more to know that this was your final day.

You feared for Adrian’s wellbeing, whether he would grow reclused after you left him, or would he rather thrive with your farewell?

You had grown recluse yourself from the Dhampir, finding closure in the fact that you would never look upon the face of Adrian ever again. Where could you go apart from as far out from Wallachia? Nowhere was safe for a girl like me. You told yourself when you wished you could explain to Adrian—though the words would always freeze on your tongue any time you tried bringing it up.

It seemed that Adrian had almost forgotten about the promise too, and you couldn’t help but feel guilt when he spoke of promises he wanted to do for you.

“I’ll show you one day the town nearby,” he said one night, curled up by the fire as he stared into its flames. “I know you’d like it. We could buy anything you’d like: spices, dresses, jewellery.”

He spoke of a future not just with him alone, but with you co-existing beside him, and it thrilled and destroyed you to know that this promise would crumple like sand.

The day came for you to leave, silently waking with dried tears still stinging your red eyes. You had spent all that night crying before you fell to sleep, dreaming of being with Adrian, laughter shared and memories to be made. You had even kissed him, your heart fluttering as he muttered words softly in your words that gave away he did not want you to go.

'Always and forever.' His words were soft and dying in the air when you faced the morning, and your lips could still feel his against yours, a dying dream never to be lived.

You tip-toed around to not wake Adrian, gathering anything you could and folding neatly the dresses you had been given to him. They were too lovely to be ruined and deserved to be in a place that could keep its beauty.

The only things you carried on you were the same dress you came to the castle in, rags that had been sitting in the corner of the room, waiting for the day you would have to wear them. The air grew heavy with a feeling of forlorn as you walked to find the kitchen, setting yourself by the counter and waiting for the person you dreaded to upset.

It was not long until you heard familiar footsteps drawing closer, familiar honey-blond locks coming into view as the man appeared. It snapped your heart in two to see the softness in his golden eyes as if you were better than the sun itself and you were his star. That all fell apart when his smile dropped, the uncertainty washing over his face when he saw the glumness on your face.

“Has something happened?” He did not waste two seconds stepping closer towards you, giving a small gap between the two but enough that you could be up close to him. In the four weeks, it had taken some time for Adrian to grow used to touch once again, always coiling away from your closeness, before he had taken the time to build trust and reciprocate first. "Y/N?"

He was quick to reach out to you first, extending for your arm as he pulled it towards him. He was warm to the touch, and you dared not want to look upon his concerned gaze without knowing you would blubber into a mess once again.

“You remember the promise, correct?” You lamented, watching for a moment as he took in your words carefully. It was as if everything poured through just from the question, and you could just about read every emotion visible in his eyes; melancholy, regret, grief.

“Where will you go?” His voice was quiet. Don’t go, it read in his eyes.

It didn’t dawn on you, no matter how many times you came to think of it. “Some place where it is warmer, perhaps east. But that means…” your voice cracked momentarily, “Wallachia will not be a home for me.”

“But how do you know?” His calmness cracked, and beneath you could see the grief-stricken man appear, though you did not think he would be holding concern for you of all people.

You didn’t want to answer his question, despite the unknowing questions that boiled, the silence was deafening, and it hammered in your chest like the chiming of a hammer.

“I will have to leave whilst there is still light,” you squeezed Adrian’s hand before it slipped from his, “Thank you for allowing me to use your library, and… to call you a dear friend.”

You didn’t know if that pained you more to call him a friend when your feelings had bloomed for him during your time there. A friend was the only thing you could call him: why would he want anything else with you? He’s immortal, he will have lovers come and go, but none will ever be you.

“Don’t,” he called to you when he stepped out of his reach, not expecting him to call you. Your name was a whisper on his tongue, hanging in the air as if he wished to say something more to you, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I would be overstaying here, Adrian.” You could feel tears slip from your face, but you braved not to look at him, even when you knew he was staring at you. “You said a month-”

“Please,” there it was. Pain in his voice in the way he pleaded, desperate and gentle that you didn’t think you’d see this side of him, “I don’t think… living within these walls would ever feel the same with you gone.”

He stepped out to you again.

Closer.

His hand gingerly found your chin, raising your head to meet his gaze, delicately wiping the tear collecting at the corner of your right eye. You were both silent, only staring at one another, and never did you think anyone would stare at you the way he did with you.

“You wish for me to stay?” Forever?

Your mother had told you what that feeling would be like, though she had been young and never knew the experience herself. Did Alucard’s parents experience the same when they first met?

That feeling grew within your chest, butterflies you couldn’t stop from feeling: the great emotion that one day would bless you in having. Why was it that the moment you had to leave was when it came?

‘People come and go,’ your mother told you one day when you asked about it, naïve and full of hope. ‘It hurts when it grows for those you care for.’

Yes, you understand now why it came at this moment and all the times before.

It hurt.

Love hurt when it was about to leave for the first and final time.

It was his smile, so gentle and warm, so inviting and bright – full like the sun and the beginning of spring – that you could not decline his offer.

“I would very much like that.”

-

Telling yourself you had gotten used to the castle was an understatement.

The rooms you were more familiar with were the ones you kept to, never straying that much to explore. You knew that there were many rooms even Adrian never went into, telling you that they held too many memories, either good or bad.

You were understanding, knowing how much the castle – his childhood home – could hold a lot of disturbance to what he went through. He told you one day that his childhood bedroom was off limits: it was after all, where he had killed his father. He mentioned it was a place too “dampened with gloom” that you knew something else had happened for him to keep that part of the castle off-limits.

It had only gotten the best of you when you told Adrian you were going to do some cleaning, leaving him as he cooked in the kitchen.

You sprinted with much glee and inquisitiveness: the endless hallways could lead you anywhere!

Roaming the halls, you remembered to stay away from the rooms you were not allowed to go to, including his old and current bedroom. It was quite easy to get lost, taking to the upper floors, where the light grew dimmer, more eerie.

The rooms as you found them didn’t hold much for you to be intrigued until you passed what was another room in another endless hallway, you spotted that this room had its door ajar.

This was certainly a room you had not been told of by Adrian.

Bravely, the room seemed to be more of an intrigue to you than any other room. Slowly peeling the door back, you stepped through.

The room is dimly lit, with a sense of sweet orange that lingers in the air. It’s his scent, sweet, alluring, inviting; just like what surrounds you. There are books of all assortments: astronomy, philosophy, ecology, history – to name a few. Knowledge spanning from decades to thousands of years back, of all cultures and dynasties long gone and remaining. Maps hung around the room, some of the entirety of Europe, the world and one finally above his desk of Wallachia.

It took longer to find literature, where you find poetry, prose, children’s stories and old fables. You’re shocked when you stumble across some romance novels, not expecting that to come from Adrian.

His desk is a display of many things: papers, books, and journals. You dare not look in his journals knowing his work is private, but something catches your gaze. Since when was Adrian into drawing?

You find one first that makes you pick it up, a sketch of his mother, only a fine-line sketch that is only shaded and not with much detail, but you recognise her from the portraits that decorate the castle.

Will you be needing a muse anytime soon? You think to yourself, jokingly. You knew it was rude to snoop, and knowing you had come across Adrian’s study, you knew you had the best chance to look around when he wasn’t there.

But when you find his sketchbook, all nosiness takes over.

The leather-bound book is beautifully decorated, with its pages filled to the brim from use. The beginning of the pages were those you recognised simply by objects that Adrian used for inspiration: a stag beetle shell, many plotted plants and flowers some you recognised from your mother’s herbs. You read the dates that dated back to almost a decade ago, impressed by his skill at such a young age.

The more you draw the pages further into the book, the older the dates get, and his practice grows. His inspirations change from objects to anatomy. You’re impressed by the way Adrian draws the human body so well. Some sketches of hands in different positions and poses, full body sketches of a mixture of men and women, some clothed and others nude.

You could feel your cheeks darken, and though it was surprising to see the natural state of the human body, art was still captivating in showing it, Adrian drew with a way of conveying vulnerability. His mother was a doctor after all.

Other pages were of human faces: more drawings of his mother and father. Another was of a different man and woman: the woman had short hair whilst the man had a scar over his right eye and a shadow of a wispy beard on his face. You now had a reference to Adrian’s friends and allies: Sypha and Trevor.

A Belmont, scholar and sleeping soldier, Adrian told you, all out for different clauses and paths but joined to meet on one path; to kill Dracula.

You had forgotten to make sure you were still alone and not spotted looking through his things when you reached the last few of the pages, recently used. Wait a minute. You had to do a double take, imagining you were seeing double. This isn’t… who I think it is.

Those eyes, were similar to you, not that you could remember where you had seen them last. It dawned on you quickly why they were a distant memory: they looked like your mother's eyes—but that was impossible if Adrian had never met or seen an image of her.

But, as if looking back through a mirror, a glimpse through time, those eyes weren’t just hers, but yours as well.

Oh. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you dared not drop the book to draw attention to where you were. You didn’t close it, despite feeling that this was intruding—it was too late for that now.

He had gotten your likeness in a way you didn’t think he could: as if you had been captured in a moment, ready to come back to life on the page. Another sketch of you, reclined with your nose in a book and laying in a way that could’ve been uncomfortable to anyone else. Another of you tying your hair back, the ribbon dangling in your mouth, eyes in heavy concentration. The final one took you by surprise: a moment where you were snuggled into the armchair, a blanket wrapped protectively around you to keep you warm.

Have I been so blinded this entire time? It seemed like this wasn’t right: did Alucard… fancy you? You scoffed, absolutely not, there was no way—though you the more you spiralled, the more it had you questioning everything.

You had been so preoccupied with what you had discovered, that you failed to suspect the presence behind you, someone standing just on the edge of the doorframe.

An awkward cough brought you back to your senses.

“Forgive me!” You stumbled, throwing the papers behind you to hide them behind your back, in hopes you were quick on your feet. You were clumsy, ineptly whipping back to look at the blond Dhampir standing just a few metres in the doorframe. “I did not hear you come in.”

Adrian was dressed simply in his shirt, trousers and boots as he did if the weather was not too cold. It was only a small subtle detail that his dark trousers were coated and dusted with a light cast of flour, as if he had nothing else to wipe but on them. His hair was also tied up, revealing his slender neck, wisps of blond tresses falling to frame his handsome angular features.

How long had he been waiting there for? You panicked, knowing that he could’ve used his speed to reach you, using his inhuman scent of smell or to pick up your heart rate to find you.

“Yes, well, you did seem rather… occupied.” Adrian teased, though his face was incomprehensible, his movements leisurely as he ambled into the room, inspecting if anything looked out of place.

Was he just as embarrassed as how you were feeling? Regardless if he was or not, he was very good at hiding it from you.

He stopped just to the side of his desk, eyes quickly scanning as he spotted the disarray of papers, his sketchbook ‘neatly’ placed back where it looked to have been before. He did not say anything about it, instead, resuming conversation as if nothing was out of place.

“I was asking if you were free to help me downstairs. I needed assistance in deciding which spices to add to the cakes.” He continued, watching the way you shuffled to block what you were putting back on the desk.

You were not subtle in the slightest but Adrian did not make any remark for you to be snooping, rather, he watched on in visible amusement. The refined look when he raised an eyebrow, the small smirk that made you even more flustered when you were caught.

“Okay, ready.” You gestured for him to walk in front, hanging back as you took a final glance back, wondering when Adrian started drawing you.

-

 It’s his idea when he decides the two of you should share a bottle of wine.

Though you think it’s not good to have the entire bottle, Adrian agrees upon a glass or two, sharing thoughts as the night grows dark with the creatures of the forest outside, and your worries melt for a moment on your tongue.

The wine is sweet, not though you like it, and it's hard to consume something that feels so foreign. Adrian drinks it as if it's water, and you struggle to keep up. You’re a lightweight after all, and though you’re slower, you can feel the haziness that crawls in your vision, and you swear you’re almost seeing double.

Your laughter is warmer, chatter easier, and you notice he’s closer beside you by the table when he first brings the bottle and glasses.

“This is nice,” his voice does not slur as he speaks, and you’re shocked just by how content he is in drinking glass after glass if he could. If perhaps you didn’t say anything, perhaps he would, “It’s been some time since I stopped drinking.”

“When did you stop?” You can feel a headache begin to dull your senses, and you’re feeling bolder.

Adrian seems hesitant when he looks back at you before he answers. “I stopped after a couple of days after your arrival.” He’s nervously swirling the glass in small circles on the table, a distraction. “I’m sure the smell of piss and blood wasn’t helping.”

You chortle, “No, it didn’t, but I don’t suppose I was any different. A girl smelling of chickens.”

“I did wonder why.” He says in a dry tone, but his eyes are sincere, and you find yourself staring periodically down at his lips, the glint of his sharp teeth some distraction from the wine.

“It seems funny when I say it now, but I used to have two, and they had names.”

Adrian seems surprised by this, that of all things to have named were chickens, but he coaxes you with a raised brow, intrigued, to say the least. “Tell me they had normal names.”

“Henrietta and Duchess.”

“Oh, my God,” Adrian laughs quietly, “Next you’ll say you had a pig called Duke and a horse called Lieutenant.”

“Well, the pig was called Truffle.”

“Seems almost cruel,” Adrian laughs at the idea, “I don’t think I was any different. I did have a stuffed wolf called Fluffy.”

“Hey, that’s cute though.”

You laugh at the idea, but you’re carrying a sad smile as you continue to sip slowly at your drink. “I loved those chickens. It was weird, but I treated them like humans rather than animals—livestock. They were much nicer than-” You stop yourself mid-sentence, unsure if you’re ready to continue.

Your stomach coils as if ready to lurch, for you to leap from your chair and leave to your room, but Adrian is calm and patient, running a soothing hand over yours to console you.

“Take your time,” he says with quiet empathy, and it’s enough to pull you back to reality. “I’m here.”

“After my mama’s death, I fled to the nearby town—I was on the streets for some time, hiding behind buildings and sometimes getting shelter from a sweet old lady, before I was old enough to sell myself as a servant to any passing man who needed my service.”

You felt sick to your stomach, and the wine was not helping. “I stayed in his service for almost a decade, serving his son and wife who was no older than me.” You confessed. “It all boiled down one day when I was fed up with the fucking treatment. I was beaten if I did something incorrect, slapped if I spoke when not spoken to, and something… snapped in me. I… hurt him when he hurt me.” You pushed the wine away from you, eyes welling with tears. “I wish I did more.”

“You survived,” Adrian said with a sad grimace, “You’re much braver than most I know.”

“I didn’t feel brave then,” you admitted. “I felt like a stupid little girl, not capable of anything.”

“Hey,” Adrian seems clumsy in giving close comfort, but he tried nonetheless, leaning closer to finally embrace you. He smelt of oranges and lavender, and you nearly broke down into his shoulder, “you’re the strongest person I know. The bravest witch.”

He seemed tongue-tied with his next words, eyes moving across your face as if he wished to say something that you yearned to hear. “I’m proud of you.” He finally said, but in your mind, it didn’t seem like it was what he wanted to say as if there was something he was holding back.

Was I overthinking? You thought as you pulled away from his embrace, so tempted to lean across the table and kiss him there and then, but you pulled enough restraint to not horrify the man. “Thank you, Adrian. I’m thankful I have you.” You finally said.

“I’m thankful too.” He confesses, quickly realising what he’s just said and the blush on his face is obvious as he tries to change the subject. “I will leave you to catch some sleep. I thought it would be a good idea to head into town tomorrow morning. Gather some more supplies. What do you say?”

You smile sadly, “That’s a good idea.” You’re on your feet fast enough as you say goodnight to one another before you’re speeding down the hallway to your room, wiping the tears that have not dried from your face.

When you reach your room, you slink against the inside of the door. Your head is hammering, vision is hazy. Damn for drinking so much. You groan, only listening to the crackling of the fire lit in your room, the soft luring sound of crisp pages of a book being shut as a lovely interference.

“Ah, there you are.” the voice that pulled you from your thoughts was the one thing you needed to hear, sweet as honey as the figure emerged to stand close by from where you stood. His soft locks are pulled back from his face, and he’s practically glowing in the soft ambers of your room, the fire gently burning to keep the warmth.

Your lips are pulled into a tired smile, which the Dhampir notices quickly enough to soothe you for a night of sleep. “You’re exhausted, my little witch.” He’s yanking you by your hand, directing you to your bed. “You need sleep before it comes for you first.”

“Was it so obvious?” You laugh dryly, and the lack of sleep is fast indeed; your eyes are heavy, limbs sluggish as your mind slows from the alcohol. “I can get myself to bed by myself, you know?”

“I don’t doubt you,” he scolds lightly, the way he moves you is more persistent. “Dreams help everything go away, isn’t that what your mother said?”

“Yes.” You drawl quietly, silent in watching Adrian move around you, sitting you delicately on the edge of the side of the bed. He is gentle in getting you settled for the night, removing your outer layers of clothing until you’re left in your chemise. There is nothing overtly sexual in the way he undresses you, more so there’s such a tenderness to his touches that it almost leaves you weeping.

When you’re ready, he follows, undressing until he stands in his nightgown. You watch as he goes to as he crawls onto the other side to lay there. Shutting his eyes, his light blond hair cascades around the pillow like a halo, his body silent and still as stone.

You’re staring for some time before he speaks up, aware even without having to open your eyes. “Are you going to watch me sleep or are you going to join me?” He cracks one eye open, full of mirth as he catches the exact moment your face brightens.

“Right.” You scootch over closer, lying stiffly beside him on your back, not daring to get any cosier before he stretches like a cat, catching you by surprise as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in close.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, little witch.” He jokes, humming as he rests his head into the crook of your neck. This is all so real, and you dare fear if you fall asleep, it’ll all be gone, a fading memory to die in the back of your mind. “Am I that cold?”

“No,” you finally relax in his hold, having turned to face him, a feeling you wish not to ever forget. “It feels nice.”

“I’m sure one thing could make you feel better,” his eyes are open, watching you almost hawkishly, scooting himself closer. “Though, I’d have to know what you think.”

“What is it?”

He doesn’t answer you directly, but his eyes tell you what you’ve been waiting for. It’s the way his gold eyes glance from your eyes down to your lips, way too slowly before coming back up to meet your flustered state.

Neither of you make the first move, your heart is hammering too fast that you can barely keep up with your racing thoughts. You know he can hear how fast it's pumping, thunderous and dreadful against your ribs. It feels like it could explode any second.

Should I wait for him to lean in? Or would it be better for me to meet him halfway? To see how he reacts.

With your mind racing, your body moves on its own, ignoring your many questions and moving with little patience. A hand finds his cheek, stroking his cheekbone in contemplation, soft to the touch that you gasp from just the exhilaration alone.

You’re not waiting for him when you’re leaning close to him, closer and closer until his face is inches from yours. Your noses bump as you catch the final moment where his eyes flutter shut as you’re copying, stretching over until your lips meet his.

You didn’t know how long you had been counting for this moment to happen. Drinking him in, he is the sun, and you are a secluded plant, waiting for his rays to keep you from shrivelling. His lips are soft, neither warm nor cool as your contact is chaste and quick, and all that is gone when you’re not chasing for more-

“No,” you rasp as you pull yourself from him, leaping up to sit on the edge of the bed. “This is wrong.”

“Oh?” He doesn’t seem dissatisfied or enraged, rather it seems more like a question. He is calm when he asks, voice a soft rumble. “Is it wrong because you wish to continue? Or because you wish to experience this with him?”

You slump in your spot, guilt overflowing your body like a wave, ready to drown. “It’s wrong because… I’m using him.” You hug yourself, ready to weep aloud from it all. “I’m using him for this twisted fantasy, just to feel happy.”

This fake version of Adrian is collected, reaching your side of the bed as he places a consoling hand on your shoulder. “Happy… that you want to imagine a future with him?”

“Yes. Is that so wrong to have?” You sigh exasperated. “I want him to be happy, but I fear… I will never give him that happiness.”

“He’s been through so much already.” You continue. “I think of him all the time: like how the sun can’t live without the moon.”

You’re completely consumed by Adrian: mind, body and soul and it aches that this crush will continue to remain as one. His acts of kindness have completely floored you, confusing you to the point that you were left over questioning every small act he did for you.

The night is long and you’re left distraught, conjuring a version of him that you hope can give you comfort. “What do I do?”

“Tell  him the truth.”

Your head snaps almost drastically to glare at the fake version, who simply looks just as perplexed as you. “I’m just a manifested form you created of him in your head whilst inebriated. I’m the wrong person you should be talking to.”

Sighing defeatedly, you look to him for security. “I’m… confused.”

“How so?”

“Well, I know he sees me as a friend, but he’s just so thoughtful. He carries me back to bed, and we spend all day together. I mean, he drew sketches of me for fuck’s sake—that’s saying something, isn’t it?”

“He seems lonely too.” ‘Adrian’ answers, but it’s a reasonable answer that could be what you’re looking for, regardless of how you’re feeling.

“I know, I know. He’s awkward, but it can’t just be out of friendship.”

“Tell him in the morning,” he says, “you can’t see for yourself if he’s quick to reciprocate your feelings for him. Perhaps then you’ll be able to cuddle something that’s flesh and bone.”

You chortle at his words, knowing how uncanny and realistic he is sitting beside you. “Can we just- can we just cuddle for the rest of the night? Just so I don’t feel so lonely.”

Alucard gives you a sorrowful smile, pulling you into a side embrace. “You realise I won’t be there by morning?”

It’s a sad realisation, but you come to accept it. “I know. I just… want to imagine feeling something for once.”

“Of course, my little witch,” he kisses your forehead lovingly, leading you both back down to lie on the bed. The bed doesn’t feel as big when you share it with another, now in the fond embrace of the Dhampir you conjured in your mind.

“Sleep well, Y/N.” He tells you all the right things you want to hear, the lull of sleep pulls you in deeper and deeper, his voice growing quieter. “I’m still here with you, no matter what.”

“I love you,” you slur as darkness consumes you, the heaviness of your body pulling you into a sleep you need. You don’t feel upset when you don’t hear a response, just the arms of his embrace.

By the time early morning comes, the other side of the bed is cold, and the ghost of Adrian’s arms remains.

It’s not just knowing that the person on the other side of the hallway would never know how you felt, but the sense that you could never go back to seeing him just as a dear friend.

-

A/N:

This was a long one to write, but I hope you enjoyed it!

[queenshelby]

Forbidden Desire (Part Four)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest (at this stage accidental), Age Gap, PTSD, Domestic Abuse, Self-Harm, Fluff, Mild Smut

Words: 5,456

Summary:

This plays after Grace’s death but before Tommy becomes a politician. Lizzie is pregnant with Tommy’s child, so it is somewhere around season four.

In this fic, Tommy suffers from episodes of PTSD and so does the reader, resulting from trauma and abuse. They will help and save each other without realising that their connection is much stronger than they could have anticipated.

There will be love, fluff and smut as well as a highly taboo relationship.

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

QUESTION: WHO IS TOMMY TO THE READER? WHOOPS!

YOUR POV

The following day, you again, arrived at the gambling den on time only to find out that Tommy was not there and neither were any of his brothers.

Polly and Michael too were absent from the den that day and the only person who barged in at around 9 o’clock was a woman by the name of Linda.

She was blonde and beautiful, with lovely curls and hypnotic eyes. She appeared stressed however and when you introduced yourself to her, she chuckled.

“I know who you are. My husband told me about you this morning” the woman then said and you queried her.

“Your husband?” you asked, not knowing who she was married to.

“Arthur Shelby. He is my husband and I believe that, last night, you met him, at the state library” Linda explained before sitting down and looking through the betting book.

“Yes, I did. He seemed nice” you acknowledged before thinking back to last night which is when Arthur, who happened to be Tommy’s oldest brother, came to find him. He too was in a panic last night, telling Tommy that he found someone they have been looking for. An acquaintance of some sort and, with that, Tommy had to leave rather abruptly.

Leaving you with his car and the key to the library, Tommy said goodbye without a kiss and it was almost like he did not want his brother to know about the fact that he took a liking in you.

Why this was the case, you did not know but, somehow, it was bothering you. You felt as though he was embarrassed by the way he had met you, in less than ideal circumstances and, the idea of Tommy being ashamed of you, was stuck in your head for the entire night.

You got no sleep whatsoever and needed to know the true nature behind Tommy’s intensions. Why was he so afraid of showing his feelings towards you in front of others? Was this just a game to him? Something to kill his boredom with perhaps?

“Y/N” you then suddenly heard Linda as, clearly, you were daydreaming and thinking too much about last night.

“Yes Linda” you responded almost reluctantly.

“Are you alright taking some bets today? Because we will be on our own until 3 o’clock” she then said and you realised that she must have asked you this very same question just seconds ago to which, clearly, you had failed to respond.

“Yes, I can take bets. You may just need to help me write them down. I am okay with numbers, but complex words are a different story” you admitted to her before asking where everyone was.

“There was an incident last night, near the docks in Camden Town” Linda told you but this did not really answer your question.

“What sort of incident?” you thus asked but Linda shrug her shoulders.

“Business I suppose” Linda said. “My husband never really tells me everything but, what I know is that Tommy was shot last night and this is why he isn’t here today. Lizzie cancelled all of his meetings” Linda explained and your chin dropped while fear began to overwhelm you.

“Oh my god Linda. You need to tell me what happened to Tommy” you demanded, but Linda did not, immediately, answer your question.

“So it is true what Lizzie said. You have taken a liking in Tommy” Linda observed instead. “My oh my, little one. You know you don’t stand a chance, right? Tommy is not a man who is faithful. Despite, he is marrying Lizzie, so…” Linda then went on to say but you did not care and repeated your question.

“Linda, is Tommy okay?” you asked again, to which, finally, you received an answer.

“Yes. He is fine. It is not the first time he got shot and the man who shot him is now laying in a ditch somewhere. My husband made sure of that” Linda told him while you were quick to reach for your coat, causing Linda to ask where you were going.

“I need to see him” you told her, causing Linda to roll her eyes.

“No, you don’t. What you need to do is to help me run this office. Tommy will be just fine” Linda said sternly before making an observation. “You have no idea what Tommy does, do you?” she then asked but the question was a rhetorical one. “He may be my brother in law, but he is not a good man” she furthermore said. “It is because of Tommy that my husband is acting the way he does. He had found God after having been jailed for his crimes, but now he is back carrying our Tommy’s dirty work. It’s appalling and you should stay away from him” Linda finally mentioned to you but this was not all she had to say.

“I know about you. I know about your stepfather too. Tommy is looking for him’” Linda revealed and you gasped momentarily in response.

“What are you talking about?” you wanted to know, seeing that you were not aware of any business Tommy had with your stepfather.

“You think that Tommy chose you out of kindness or love?” Linda chuckled after realising how oblivious you were. “Lizzie is right. You are naïve. Your stepfather has a gambling debt with Shelby Company Limited and went into hiding after using a false identity to steal from Tommy’s family business. Tommy wants to recover the debt and make him pay for stealing from him. This is why he needs you” Linda then told you and it all started to make sense now.

Tommy did not like you. He was using you. This was all you were to him.

“I need to go Linda” you then told her as you were trying hard to hold back your tears. You were feeling betrayed and upset by what Linda had told you and, even though you still could not be sure about Tommy’s true intentions towards you, you were almost certain that you were nothing but a means to an end. 

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

Tommy Shelby Tag List:

@fastfan

@elenavampire21

@dolllol2405

@allie131313

@cilliansangel

@coldbastille

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@cdej6

@kathrinemelissa

@landlockedmermaid77

@crazymar15

@damedomino  

@lauren-raines-x

@miss-bunny19

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@odorinana

@cloudofdisney

@weepingstudentfishhorse

@allexiiisss

@geminiwolves

@letsstarsfalling

@ysmmsy

@chlorrox

@tommyshelbypb

@chocolatehalo

@music-lover911

@desperate-and-broken

@mysticaldeanvoidhorse

@peaky-cillian

@lelestrangerandunusualdeetz

@december16-1991

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

@romanogersendgame

@randomfangirl2718

@missymurphy1985

@peakyscillian

@lilymurphy03

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@datewithgianni

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@basiclassy

@chaotic-bean-of-smolness

@margoo0

@vhscillian

@crazymar15

@im-constantly-fangirling

@namelesslosers

@littlewhiterose

@ttzamara

@cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

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@look-at-the-soul

@smellyzcat

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@theliterarybeldam

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@mainstreetlilly

@ourthatgirlabby

@bitchwhytho

@takethee

@registerednursejackie

@sofi128

@mrkdvidal1989

@minxsblog

@heidimoreton

@laylasbunbunny

@laylasbunbunny

@queenshelby

@camilleholland89

@forgottenpeakywriter

@vintagecherryt

@indierockgirrl

@mrkdvidal1989

@bluesongbird

@dudde-44

@gasolinesavages

@kissforvoid

@bluebird592

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@esposadomdp

@lulunalua23

@lovelace42

@bookklover23

@iwantmyredvelvetcupcake

@moonmaiden1996

@marlenamallowan

@cyphah (cannot tag)

@majesticcmey

@cleverzonkwombatsludge

@throughgoeshamilton

@alessioayla

@elenavampire21

@justforfiction

@cilliansangel

@alannielaraye (cannot tag)

@satellitelh

@simplyreading96

@idledream​s

@vic-top​

[auxcordlawd]

Part One: Wandering Thoughts of a Ravenclaw

Summary: 18 year old Ravenclaw student is dating Miles Bletchley (Slytherin), and gets on Professor Snape’s bad side

Warnings: French Kissing, Heavy Petting

Side Note: I prefer long drawn out stories, and this has been a fantasy of mine for quite some time. This is my first time writing fanfic, so lmk any comments, suggestions, feel free.

The snow was finally melting outside the castle, a sign that Easter break was near. After Easter break you only have one more term at Hogwarts, which gives you mixed emotions. You’re excited to start your career, debating between teaching at Hogwarts for Potions or working at St. Mungos as a healer. Both are realistic options due to receiving O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Charms.

You were now sitting in Defense Against the Dark Arts which is now taught by none other than Severus Snape. An ornery, greasy haired, hooked nose professor whom most students either feared or despised. Thankfully you never saw his worst as you followed the rules, yet he seemed annoyed by you. Maybe it was because I’ve typically done well in his courses. That is until this term.

You, a Ravenclaw, recently started dating Miles Bletchley, a Slytherin in your same year. He’s been walking you to classes, and just kissed you for the first time while dropping you off at Defense Against the Dark Arts. You can’t quit thinking of it, and are having trouble paying attention. It’s not until Professor Snape drops books heavily in front of you that you realize you completely zoned out.

“Miss (y/l/n)?”

Snape says looking down at me with a scowl.

“Yes Professor?”

You say while blushing, feeling uncomfortable under his harsh gaze.

“I asked you to repeat the spell you would use to lure a dragon to sleep. The one I mentioned not ten minutes ago.”

“Umm.”

Is all you can get out. You completely missed that part of the lesson.

“Detention with me after class. Perhaps you should concern yourself less with boys and focus on your studies Miss (y/l/n).”

Snape said while lowering his voice for the second sentence.

His concern gave you an odd rush.

After class was over you stayed sitting in your seat, holding you breath for what was about to come.

After the last student left he slammed the door, and briskly walked to your desk, his dark cape flowing behind him.

“Miss (y/l/n), I expect this behavior from the hormonal 4th year girls, but you, an 18 year old young woman, should not be daydreaming about a boy during my lecture. I truly could care less about your personal life, but since you have applied to teach Potions next year, I must question your competence.”

“Professor-“

He cuts me off before you can try to defend myself.

“You will be assisting me to grade papers for the 3rd and 4th year students for the next week starting tomorrow. You will arrive directly after dinner in my office ready to work. If you can get though this simple task I will not immediately remove your application from our files.”

“But-“

“All you need to say is ‘Yes, sir’.” He says in a commanding tone telling you the conversation is over.

“Yes, sir.” You say before grabbing your belongings and heading the Ravenclaw common room to process what just happened.

Your career now hanging on a thread by the most temperamental professor at Hogwarts. It took this for you to realize how badly you wanted to teach as opposed to being a healer. As you process this you start to feel angered by the entire evening.

You feel your stomach growl and realize you've almost missed dinner. You run down the spiral staircase and fall into Miles, who catches you with a smile.

“Woah there (y/n), where are you off too so fast?”

Miles states with a smile, still holding your waist. His blue eyes twinkle in a sexy way as he looks at you. You can’t help but admire his short blonde hair and athletic build, no doubt from all those hours on the quidditch field.

“I am starving, ravenous even.”

You say with flirty grin, liking the feel of his hands your waist.

“Come with me.”

He says pulling your hand away from the Great Hall. You follow without question excited for the distraction from the earlier encounter.

He leads you down the grand staircase and whispers the current password to the Slytherin common room. As the door opens you see a delicious looking spread of food being brought by disgruntled looking house elves. You feel a pang of guilt for the elves, but your grumbling stomach wins.

Miles gestures to a green tufted loveseat, and begins filling up a plate for you. He plops down next to you, handing you the full plate. You start scarfing down the delicious meal as Miles watches with amusement.

“Do they starve you over there at Ravenclaw?” He says with a smirk.

You laugh with a full mouth and elbow him in the ribs.

You finish your meal and start chatting with Miles. Your legs draped over his, his hand on your thigh. You start feeling the building desire to kiss him as the common room empties. You climb onto his lap and start to lightly kiss him as he pulls you closer. His tongue slipping into your mouth, your tongue lightly pushing against his as the heat between you builds. One of his hands slides to your ass under your skirt, the other on your ribs just below your breast under your uniform shirt.

“Ahem.”

You jolt up causing Miles to quickly remove his hands. You turn towards the common room door to see a tall dark figure standing there watching you.

“50 points from Ravenclaw, and Miles you will be reporting to Professor Sprout for detention for two weeks directly after your classes.” Professor Snape said with a smirk seemingly directed at you. “Miss (y/l/n), go straight to your dormitory.”

[uyuartik]

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

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

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

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

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

part one | part two | part three | ao3

enjoy!!!

word count: 19.7K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strike one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His smirking, twinkling eyes.

Strike two.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

===

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, apology accepted.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were certainly thinking about it. "Possibly."

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

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

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

"I'll be there." 

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

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

It is still completely the same.

=== 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think that is safe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A few minutes pass in the silence of nature.

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My shoes! – and-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

He adores the pout you have as he fetches them.

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

“So, we are to sit here and sulk?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t hear you, dear.”

“I said-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Say farewell to your pride.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only because you asked so nicely.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fair. Absolutely fair.”

===

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“And what is that?”

“The right company.”

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

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

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

Your shaky inhale echoes.

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

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

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

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

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

“But at the lake - You were-” 

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

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

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

Then, it is settled. 

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

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

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

And this is the night Obi Wan admits that fact.

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

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

What is with him and that special request?

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

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

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

“Have you seen Lord Kenobi?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Auntie!”

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

The urge the scream has never been stronger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Obi Wan- please…”

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

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

“As you wish, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

===

“Lord Kenobi?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing he-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Likewise, Lord Skywalker.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would that be all, Madame?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How much do I owe you?”

“Please, allow me-“

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

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

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

“Thank you.”  

And you’re gone before Skywalker can catch up.

===

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

But you’re proven wrong so, so badly.

He doesn’t take it off.

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

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

You're ready to help with that, too.

“Do you think I should hire-” 

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

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

And he's still going over it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

Didn't he even take care of himself?

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

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

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

“By all means.” 

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

There he is.

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

Well. You really should’ve done this sooner.

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

“Harder.” The only instruction you need.

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

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

“Y-yes. You’re doing- so good.”

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

And you’re determined not to be distracted.

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

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

Like you had any intention to do that.

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

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

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

“Please- darling-“

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

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

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

So cute and so filthy.

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

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

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

Of course not.

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

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

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

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

===

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

Not today, though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he didn’t even give you his jacket?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s that a bad thing?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

===

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

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

So, he has come to yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh my God, it is. 

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

Oh. That makes quite the sense.

“Actually I still feel a little bit exhausted.”

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

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

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

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

“I think you know it already.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Had?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is there?” 

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

But so will his closeness.

When did he get so close? 

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

“Answer my question, and I will.” 

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

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

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

A very different time. 

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

So, that’s his cue to kiss you.

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

Not til you absolutely have to.

“No, you don’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s a sentence straight out of his dreams.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Though he has no rush to join you. 

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

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

He'd like to see that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you gonna let me in, sweetheart?” 

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

Could he ever refuse?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the morning is anything like the night.

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

You weren't ready for his morning voice.

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

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

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

“Darling?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. You and your infamous life on the roads. 

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

A trial that you fail.

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

[mitamicah]

Gig Report: Ruisrock Festival July 7 2024

Sunday July 7 2024:

Here follows my experiences with Käärijä and Joker Out at Ruisrock Festival, Roussalo Turku on July 7 2024.

To make a long story short me and @jaarijani had decided to camp at Rossallo camping (the officially camping site of the festival) which gave us a lot of grievances so we'd only put our tents up a bit after midnight the day before. None of us had good quality tents and it was said to rain early morning sunday.

I had had a few drops of rain pierce the tent when it began raining at 5 am while poor Cass had had her tent soaked! Safe to say we were not happy campers when security and police went around asking us to put our tents down or fasten it closer to the ground since the weather had warned against strong winds.

We went searching for a charger and I saw a helicopter take off at one point (that I later learned very possibly was the very same helicopter that had Käärijä, Häärijä and Joost in it!!!).

We went to the festival grounds with one of the earliest busses at 12 to meet up with @teal-skull, our saviour, that had brought us breakfast (not the last time they’d save our behinds). When entering the festival grounds, we quickly went to queue for Käärijä that’ll be the second act on the mainstage after Blind Channel (flashback to my birthday concert!). We got to meet whole new sets of people that I haven’t seen in ages (hi @i-wasnt-ready-for-this! Hi @korre!) or never interacted with in public before such as my fellow Bojere QPR shipper @flananjan and – I am still sort of awestruck about this one – @lemon-h4!! I had not made stickers today, so I drew quick doodles for everybody on post it notes. @carpblu had made me Häärijä-Hojan-Hoost bracelets and @formulalakana a Denmark Guy one (for context I recommend checking out my gig repport for Backas) and I honestly treasure these so much!!!

I was pleasantly (with capital P) surprised and relieved with how well the queueing went for Käärijä – the security respected our number system and let us into the limbo space first. Here we watched Jesse while screaming along to HHH and Rouska played from a little speaker. Then the security would follow us using tape (so nobody could run) to the barricade in groups of 40-50 people at a time. Having number 34 I managed to get barricade at one of Finland’s biggest festivals(pictured) next to Skull, Aniina, Cass, Caro and Bendo.

Käärijä made another homerun show especially lifted by having Erika Vikman join for Rouska and later Joost join for the first ever performance of Trafik! (me and Bendo had been wondering why Häärijä wear a blue suit out loud and only conclude that maybe we’d see Joost a second before the backtrack began playing). I filmed the whole chaos yet given I was just behind the photographer I didn’t get all the best angles but it was still so much fun!! (Only soured by an entitled teenager ripping the setlist out of the hands of the person that had actually been handing the setlist and then the teenager’s mother shouting at Caro for calling her daughter out).

After that amazing experience we went to join the already assembling Joker Out crowd in the tent and unfortunately that meant being present at this horrible DJ set (I tried to make a joke at one point asking if this was the music straight people were into) the insulted my insights. After that and because I may not have eaten enough during the day I hit the wall and my blood sugar drained drastically, so I had to sit down. Cass went to ask for some water by who ended up being Vita (Cass didn’t realise not even when she was interviewed about ŠBJ which made them way calmer than they’d been otherwise). I tried my best to drink the water (it was sparkling, and I hate sparkling water with a passion) and got some glucose from Cass yet I still feared I may pass out. But as soon Joker Out went on, I felt instantly better (probably the dopamine) and enjoyed the rest of the concert just fine.

I had surprisingly a lot of voice left, and I am 80% sure I caught Bojan’s eyes at a few points. What I otherwise remember the best was the poor bird flying terrified around in the tent like a moth to a window and Bojan talking to the bird with a heartbreakingly tender voice (before jokingly saying he just pretended to talk to the bird to catch his breath). The setlist was great although in retrospect I missed Novi Val and of course Bluza, my beloved. I later learned that had I been more center or placed on the right side of the stage I could’ve witnessed Bojan hugging Jere at one point (all I saw was Häärijä’s yellow hoodie walking across backstage just before SSOL).

 I will say with both Joker Out and Käärijä I enjoyed their festival performances but missed the connection that you find at the smaller shows, so I am not sure I will go to many more festival gigs with them in the future.

Just before Joker Out had begun their set, I’d incidentally become keeper of @pianist-chan ’s book of memories so I’d had it in my back during the show. I didn’t realize at first why my bag was so light all of a sudden until it struck me, I’d missed the book (still feel horrible about that). This would turn out not to be the only bit of unluck we had this evening since Cass and I was ditched by the busses again, almost scammed by scammy taxies, had to walk down to the truck area to even find a yellow vest to ask for help before going to the camp site, packing our stuff and throwing out our tents in rage. Luckily for us we were able to find a solution making it so we didnt have to sleeping at the camp another night.

Trinkets from Ruisrock v

Camping bracelet

Baby Boo bracelet (not sure who gave me this so please let me know if it was you or you know who it was <3)

Demoni Scream bracelet from @glossykris

Bluza and Slaypose bracelets from @formulalakana

Häärijä-Hojan-Hoost bracelets from @carpblu

Denmark Guy and Are You bracelets (also) from @formulalakana

Clown Bojan and Clown Jere stickers from @i-wasnt-ready-for-this

Bojan drawing from @jaarijani

Jere drawing from @lemon-h4

Bojan drawing from @arachn11da

Khäärijä sticker and Bojere drawing from @flananjan

Bojan (in Malmö :3) card from Elmi (not sure if you are on tumblr)

Joker Out Ruisrock sticker from @korre

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 12/? Word count: 3726 Co writer: @mistrose23

Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 10. Unaware

"Hey," Matilde said when she entered the room next to her office. Galileo was already working behind his desk. "Do you have a minute so that we can talk?"

The young Italian nodded, knowing what this was about. "Of course."

"Do you want something to drink? I'm getting a cappuccino."

Galileo raised his eyebrows and really wanted to say something, but he thought it was best to keep his mouth shut. "No, thank you."

Matilde had to do her best to hide her grin. It was 14:00, and technically, according to the Italians, it was too late to drink a cappuccino. But she didn't care. People in this office didn't care about her, so why should she care? "Okay. I'll be back in... five?"

"Yes, absolutely."

The Dane walked to the coffee corner on the same floor and asked the barista for a cappuccino. Again, she received the side eye, but Matilde only smiled, causing the barista to make the cappuccino anyway.

A few minutes later, Matilde entered her office and called Galileo in. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he nodded as he sat across from her. "How about you?"

Matilde pressed the corners of her mouth down, acting casual. "Fine, fine," she mumbled. "I will go straight to the point because, apparently, I have a board meeting now." She noticed the stress on Galileo's face when she said it. "How come I was unaware of the inauguration ceremony this morning?" Matilde asked and looked at Galileo. 'And the board meeting?'

The young assistant parted his lips and looked at his boss. His heartbeat became fast; he forgot to inform her about the inauguration ceremony and the board meeting. "I... I forgot, I think."

She nodded. "Thank you for being honest with me, Galileo," she said. "Look, I would be lying if I said it is okay and can happen. I need to know when these things happen, these events are very important for me, the team and for the representation of this team. You are here to support me, manage my appointments and to make sure I am aware of it." Matilde shared a warm smile, she could see how sorry he was. "For now, it happened, and there's nothing we can do about it anymore. But for the next time, double-check everything, okay?"

"I will. I am sorry," the young Italian said.

"Thank you."

Galileo got up and was about to leave the office.

"These things happen, but make sure you learn from them. Without making mistakes, you won't learn properly," she reminded him before he left.

Once he left the room, her smile dropped, and she turned around in her chair, facing the wall behind her desk. She blinked a couple of times and yawned. Being a team principal was literally being a teacher to toddlers. Matilde took a deep breath and got up, taking her laptop, notebook and coffee with her. She made her way to the meeting room, ready to be attacked and to defend herself in front of the most influential people of Ferrari.

"Hello," she said when entering the room, leaving the door open.

The big people looked already annoyed, a great start. She showed no fear and made her way to the only available seat.

"We've been waiting for you for over fifteen minutes," a woman said.

Matilde didn't remember her name, only that she looked like Donatella Versace. Matilde glanced at her, ready to say something, but she got interrupted by a knock on the door. She looked at the person, it was Mario. "Mario," Matilde smiled.

"Sorry to interrupt. Can I ask you a question?" Mario said.

"Of course. What is it?" She nodded and opened her laptop.

Sighs filled the room, causing Mario to look uncomfortable. Glances were shared; why did Mario interrupt? But a more important question was: why did someone from the night shift ask for her?

"The order that is missing, do we have an update on it yet?" Mario asked, hoping the order had arrived.

Matilde blew up her cheeks. "I have not seen a note yet, so I don't think so. I will follow it up after this meeting, you will hear from me."

The night shift manager and the team principal looked at each other; both wondering why they were present at the office. Mario squeezed his eyebrows together. "I thought you were supposed to be here at..." Mario pulled up the sleeve of his watch. "Six o'clock?"

"Well," she countered. "And what are you doing here then?" A cheeky smile came on her face.

"Mhm-mhm," Mario chuckled. "I will hear from you," he winked and walked away.

It was silent in the room again. Matilde looked around, raising her eyebrows, waiting for the meeting to start.

"What was that all about?" the same woman as earlier asked.

"If you work a shift, you are not allowed to start your next shift eleven hours after your previous shift ended. And since the night shift ended eight hours ago, we are legally forbidden to be here and work until six this afternoon," Matilde explained, reminding the board about the rules.

No one reacted to the comment. Instead, Simone started the meeting with a small introduction of why the board came together. "Firstly, do you have a reason why you were late to this board meeting, Matilde?"

Matilde looked up from her laptop and blinked a couple of times, taking a sip of her coffee. "Legally, I am not supposed to be here. My shift ended eight hours ago, which I explained a few seconds ago. I am making an exception to be here," she mentioned. "So the reason why I am late: I am still off duty."

No one seemed to find a suitable answer to her reply. Again, they were sharing looks with each other, trying to understand why she took a night shift.

"For clarification: I am taking night shifts every other week?" Matilde looked around, she thought people were aware about that. She always wrote it down in her work agenda and everyone has access to her agenda.

"Noted," Simone said and he looked at his notes. "So the reason why you were late at the inauguration ceremony is also because of the break-rule. But may I ask why you're here? You are legally not allowed to be here for four more hours, as you said so yourself."

"Exactly." Even though that wasn't the exact reason why she was late at the ceremony, she thought that was an excellent reason for this board. Galileo made a mistake, but that was something between them, and Matilde wanted to protect him from the board. "And the reason why I'm here is because I was bored at home. And I'm the team principal, I always have work to do."

The woman who spoke to her at the beginning, took over. Wasn't her name Antonia? A sly smirk appeared on her face, she was ready to attack the young team principal. "We received a message from PR about the celebrations in Miami."

Oh, here we go, Matilde thought. How did PR know about this? Who talked? Matilde nodded, accepting that she had to explain her side of the incident.

"We understand that you are delighted to celebrate your first win - as you should, but we received videos of you partying with Max Verstappen and some employees of Red Bull Racing. You have to understand that that is not great for your image."

Matilde straightened her face. This was about Max and Red Bull? She looked around, everyone looked sternly at her, like she had damaged their reputation. "Well, yes-"

"We understand you have your friends at your former team, but you cannot be seen like this." The tone of Antonia was unrelenting.

Matilde was prepared to defend herself and maintain her professionalism, but the weight of their expectations was palpable. She took a moment to generate her response. Of course, she knew the delicate balance she had to follow between maintaining relationships in the paddock and upholding Ferrari's image.

"Matilde, do you think that action was appropriate?" Simone could see Matilde was thinking about a response, but he wanted her to be faster. He was taking notes, looked up and waited for a further response. "It could be perceived as celebrating with a competitor, a rival."

"I appreciate your concern," Matilde began, her voice steady. "And I acknowledge that appearances matter. However-" Before she could elaborate further on her intentions, someone else cut in.

"Our image is important. We cannot afford to have our team principal's actions misinterpreted, especially with a rival team." The voice of the man was sharp, but impatient.

The frustration in Matilde's veins simmered just below the surface. But she maintained her composure. "As I was trying to say, we must also consider the context. I was not celebrating with Max and Red Bull Ra-"

"You have to understand that it's not just about the context."

This meeting was about interrogating Matilde, to share their criticisms without allowing her to respond fully and to defend herself. Matilde had expected a severe meeting about the team's performances, not this relentless lecture that made her feel increasingly unheard and undermined.

Matilde clenched her jaw and she took a deep breath, now her irritation began to bubble up. She didn't get the chance to explain herself, as they only seemed to be interested in one side of the story. She refused to back down on her story. "I understand the importance of our image-" she repeated, her voice tight.

But yet again, she was cut off by Simone, who seemed to have a lot of fun by irritating her. "Our team's reputation is at stake here. You may see it as a small gesture, but the public won't always perceive it that way," Simone looked at Antonia. "Antonia, you have set up a statement. Matilde, we want you to publish a statement for this incident."

Matilde squeezed her eyebrows together, and she looked around as if she was the main character of The Office. "Excuse me? Why?" Her tone was openly irritated now. "I acknowledge the importance of the team's image, but let's not lose sight of the bigger picture here. This obsession with a harmless moment is counterproductive."

"Matilde, the perception of our team matters. We need to control the narrative. A statement will help manage this situation," Antonia said.

Matilde almost groaned in frustration. They weren't listening to her, it was like they were fixated on the statement and not the reason behind it. "I understand your point, but let's not forget the context. I believe we are blowing this out of proportion. If I just may-" Her patience was wearing thin.

"You have to-"

"If you could, please let me finish," she repeated, raising her voice a little bit, demanding to have the word. "The reason why I was standing next to Max and Red Bull was because I was not invited to our own team's celebration dinner," she explained.

The board members exchanged glances, and Simone leaned back in his chair, a look of incredulity on his face. "So you decide to celebrate your win with our rival?" He repeated, as though the idea was utterly preposterous.

Matilde blinked a couple of times, looking unheard. Did they just not hear what she said? "In other words, yes," she responded. "Because I was not invited to the team's celebration dinner. And I want to clarify this: Max Verstappen is my friend, Red Bull is filled with my friends-"

"We need to address this issue promptly and professionally," Antonia chimed in, her tone critical. "Drafting a statement is the right course of action."

Matilde's frustration had reached its peak. She couldn't believe how obstinate the board was being, seemingly ignoring her explanations. Their need to release a statement was maddening. "Are you even listening to me? Why do I need to justify myself for the fact that I, the team principal, was not invited to the team's celebration dinner? It makes more sense for you to justify this situation." She felt so extremely selfish to say that she wasn't invited and that she had to be invited. Perhaps everyone disliked her and it was their plan not to invite her, and perhaps it was her expectation she had to be invited. Perhaps she was the issue.

"You are the team principal, you are a model to not only your team, but to the entire field and fanbase," Simone emotionlessly replied.

"Fine, but then make sure Leclerc is not allowed to talk to Gasly outside of work anymore, or meet with him outside of the track. And ban Sainz from golfing with Norris," Matilde shot back.

While the board was discussing the situation, the entire floor could hear their debate. Even though there was a lot of work to do, the entire floor of employees were more interested in the conversation. People gathered around, close enough to the meeting room to hear everything, but not to be seen by the board members. It had been the first time they heard Matilde speaking up like this. People doubted if she ever could get angry, but after this weekend and this discussion, they figured out Matilde could get angry very badly.

Charles and Carlos were sitting at a desk, in the engineers room, discussing some points for the sim later this afternoon. They could hear the discussion very well. Even they stopped working to follow the discussion.

"She's feisty," Charles said perplexedly. "Oh, my gosh." He covered his mouth with his hand.

"After Sunday, I didn't think she could surprise me anymore, but I didn't expect this," an engineer mentioned.

Carlos' mouth hung open, focussing on the conversation. "We have to say something, this is something between her and the board, not us."

"No, no, don't," Charles replied, raising his arm.

"But this is unacceptable. You're nosy."

"It is their problem, not ours. They shouldn't have left the door wide open," Charles shrugged. Carlos got up. "Don't," Charles said disappointingly.

Carlos shook his head, left the engineer's room and walked through the hallway. He noticed how the entire floor was standing close to the meeting room. It was serious, very serious. Charles joined him on the walk, he couldn't resist the urge to get closer to the commotion. They squeezed between the people, careful not to obstruct anyone's view.

"I can't believe they're making such a fuss about this," Charles muttered under his breath.

Carlos looked behind him, not realising Charles had followed him. He nodded in agreement. "It's absurd. They're treating her like she committed a crime." He stepped to the room, everybody collectively holding their breath. When he stood in front of the room, Matilde was in the middle of her sentence.

"I still cannot figure out how me, having a night out with my friends, bothers you the most out of that evening?" Matilde asked.

To Carlos' surprise, Matilde was still looking and speaking professionally. He knocked on the door, alerting them to his presence. "Hey, I am..." He pointed at the door.

She looked at him and held up her hand. "You can leave the door open, Carlos," she said before continuing on the same tone with the rest of her words. "Do you know what bothers me the most? Besides the board not understanding this situation, the fact that the entire team, not just a few people, but everyone, went out for dinner to celebrate the win and they did not even bother to ask me to join them on purpose."

Carlos stood speechlessly in front of the meeting room. He looked to his right, to his team, with rounded eyes. He walked back to his team. "This is serious shit," he said.

"I will not publish a statement," Matilde finished her story. "I think it will be time for us to hire an external coach or a psychologist. The way of communication has to change internally and as quickly as possible. Especially the communication between employees. That is the main issue in this team. This meeting is over. If there are any questions, don't hesitate to contact my assistant. Good afternoon, everyone."

The people in the hallway didn't know how fast they had to return to their desks. They had to pretend they hadn't been listening. Carlos ran after Charles back to the engineer's room. They jumped down on their seats. A second later, Matilde passed them. Silence fell on the entire floor and they all looked at Matilde; she showed no emotion.

"Holy shit..." Charles whispered. "That was something else," he remarked.

Carlos nodded, still impressed by Matilde's determination. His respect for her grew. "She's not one to back down, that's for sure."

The entire floor has just witnessed their 'puppy' team principal push back against the board with an intensity that was rarely seen. The engineers were buzzing with discussions about what had just transpired. It was clear that Matilde's impassioned defence had made an impact on everyone who had heard it. The board, too, was left with much to consider after her strong words. Her speech had ignited a new level of respect among the team, who now saw her in a different light. Her actions had solidified her position not just as a team principal, but as a leader who wasn't afraid to fight for the people, even against the most powerful figures within Ferrari.

Charles got up from his chair and made his way to Matilde's office. He ignored Galileo, who told him not to enter the office. After knocking, Charles swung open the door; Matilde was standing in front of the window, arms crossed, looking outside, her posture reflecting frustration and exhaustion.

"Hey..." he gently spoke.

Matilde looked over her shoulder. Once their gaze met, she showed just a smile - a smile without emotion or meaning. "Hello," she replied.

"Would you like to grab a coffee?" He pointed behind him. "There's a new coffee stand on the campus."

She considered Charles' offer for a moment. The tension from the board meeting still lingered, just like the unaware ceremony and incident from Sunday. However, she knew a short break and some fresh air would do her good. She stared at her watch and she nodded, she had some time left before her next meeting. "Yeah, sure," she replied, her smile now carrying a bit more warmth.

Charles hoped that this coffee break would provide her some rest and reset. Matilde grabbed her pass and sunglasses before they left her office. In silence they walked over the campus. Charles didn't feel the need to say anything, he wanted to make sure that Matilde could empty her mind.

As they approached the stand, Matilde scanned the new stand. She hadn't seen it before, but it looked cute. It was quite a minimalist stand, it was a stand that could go viral on Instagram for the aesthetic. Matilde was surprised to see that they served iced coffee, so she ordered that. Charles ordered a simple espresso.

"Thanks," Matilde broke the silence. They had their coffee and sat down on a small wall next to the stand. Charles looked at her, sharing a questionable look. "For... You know, this."

"Of course." He offered a supportive smile. "A small break can do miracles."

"I..." She took a deep breath. "I really appreciate it."

"Anytime." Charles looked in front of him. "And about Sunday... I didn't know what was happening. I assumed you were at the dinner, but somewhere...I don't know, somewhere where we couldn't see you."

"It's okay. It happened."

"It's not okay and it wasn't classy from our side."

"It is what it is, Charles. I hope it was miscommunication and I hope we all learn from it," she responded. Momentarily, Matilde didn't like the team, but she couldn't show it. She had to deal and work with it. "And I didn't celebrate the win with Max. People told me there wouldn't be a party because of the early flight the next day, so I wanted to get a drink at the hotel. I bumped into Gemma, my best friend. She works as a PR manager for Red Bull, and she dragged me to the restaurant. If I knew about your dinner, I obviously wouldn't have done it."

He pressed his lips into a thin line and he looked at her, it looked like she regretted everything.

"I have my friends at Red Bull. Max and I joined Red Bull at the same time, we 'grew up' together, I met my friend group there. And everyone assumes I moved to Ferrari to spy for Christian. When we see each other, we briefly talk about F1, we mostly talk about bullshit and ourselves, not about our work. I signed a million documents, they signed a million documents, why do people assume we share the team's deepest secrets?"

"You don't have to explain yourself, Matilde. I understand you." Charles knew it was better if she could just rant, let it all out, he wanted to let her know that it was safe to rant with him.

"And this morning, I got here and it was basically the same thing all over again. The ceremony thing and the board meeting I wasn't told about." Her voice cracked and she let out a loud sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," Charles replied and put his espresso next to him on the wall. He wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her arm.

Matilde leaned into the comforting gesture. Fortunately, she was wearing sunglasses. "I just want to do what's best for the team. I do what I think is the best," she admitted, her voice filled with raw emotion. "And I know this role isn't for softies, but there's just so much friction."

"Ferrari is a tough team to work with. I can't approve of what happened this week, but it's been a stressful time," he shared.

She straightened her back and dried her eyes. "Thanks." Matilde looked at him. They held each other's gaze for a few seconds. Charles shared a warm smile, Matilde couldn't help, but smile because of his smile. "God, this isn't professional. I am sorry."

Charles chuckled. "Team principal or not, you have feelings and sometimes you have to let them out. This stays between us, alright?"

"Thank you." She got up and looked around. "Let's get back to work. I have a feeling there are more wins in store for us."

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