#somehow not QUITE developed enough... almost though

[dykemcqueen]

s7e5 was so disappointing to me bc they completely sidelined morty and acted like there's some stark difference between morty and evil morty as if the whole conceit of EM isn't that he is literally just morty.

at his point of origin EM is not smarter, he's not crueler, he's not better, he's not worse, he's just c137 with about 20% less patience. EM has more knowledge because he HAD to learn as much as rick to finally overcome him, but overcoming rick was the impetus, and if c137 had that same drive, it would be completely possible. c137 has manipulated rick in exactly the same way that we see EM doing to his rick in the opening. c137 is just as smart and bitchy and fed up. he's just as good at fighting and flying the ship. morty c137 has not been the bumbling sidekick for many seasons, so why put him in that position now? just to make evil morty look way cooler than he is?

not to mention it's so out of character for morty not to read the fucking room at the end of the episode. morty canonically can dissect rick very well, so why is he acting cheery and ignorant now? it's not like the two of them to be so out of sync, not anymore. it was just so repellent to me... dragging my boy through the mud just to put evil morty on a pedestal... just to act like they aren't the same person at their core.

[frmisnow]

✧˖ ?!— THE ASSHOLE THAT MIGHT MAKE YOU FORGIVE & FORGET. - (NSFW.)

— ‧₊˚ — 🍸: "wanna make you hate being touched by anybody else but me, i'll be so selfish with you ??"

summary. despite your best efforts at avoiding your much-hated hookup boxer, he somehow finds a way to your apartment claiming he's here for your own good benefit, being a total ass- does he even have the ability to change? well, he's determinded to make you forgive & forget... in his own unique ways!

notes. haven't written full blown smut in quite a while aaahhhh also my longest fic up to date??? - this is part two of TWO WHORES IN A ROOM, THEY MIGHT KISS but can be read on it's own.

warnings/includes. (MDNI!!) non idol! jungkook x f! reader, they still kinda hate eachother sry (tiny bit of character development in the middle tho), elements of angst, making out, he's a bit of a dick :/, reader is kind of a therapist (pls don't go around in real life trying to fix ppl!!), tit/nipple play, riding, kook sub tendency towards the end, unprotected sex (she's on the pill tho), not proofread :/

you starred blankly at the text bubble he sent you a minute ago, hell- it was 2 am- you blinked repeatedly, reading it once more:

unknown number (jeon ) : i'm outside your apartment

you've done your absolute best avoiding him at all costs, you couldn't no- you shouldn't at all, never ever form a connection with him and though you'd usually be okay with having a little fling, you didn't want to be associated with him nor did you want to see his face. it was a hate fuck, nothing more, nothing less - but he always knew just how to ruin your plans.

you looked outside the window, actually sighting a figure, a motorcycle close to them as the person lifted it's head shortly from their phone, you quickly typed in a response.

y/n ( reader ) : how do you know my number, how do you know my adress and what makes you think i'll open the door unknown number (jeon ) : i'm cold

the simplicity of the incoming answer, made you roll your eyes, opening the window instantly after reading yelling out to the person: "i'll call the police for stalking"

he instantly yells back, "you don't actually have any intentions of calling the police. you want to see me" with every word stepping a bit closer to your apartment, now practically being next to your door.

"ha," you let out till full blown starting to laugh, "i wanna see you?" the smile from the laugh still plastered of your face, "you really think so?"

"oh i'm sure of it, what else is there to do on a saturday night? i just know you've been thinking bout my big dick all day, i know it makes you sick- but y'know what? i'm here to fix it for you" he looks up to you while delivering his dialogue in a sarcastic tone like he's the savior of the world, his smirk coming back once more.

you skipped down the stairs, opening the door just a few centimeters, enough to see your face, not enough to completly look into your apartment, answering him back now face to face, giving him a rather unimpressed look: "right, you showed up but somehow u're still blabbering 'bout me wanting you here, but whatever go on- tell me i'm the needy cockslut who wants you right now"

his hands reach out to presumably touch your tits as you make the split of the open door a little smaller so his hands won't fit through while he makes a tiny sound of disapproval in the mean time almost like a 'tsk tsk' until he starts talking again:

"you're standing here in your pjs at 2am opening up your door for no other then me and that says just enough"

you stand there silent for just a few seconds till bouncing back on his answer, "don't get it twisted, i wanted to see what you have to say for yourself-"

his smug little smirk on his face grows bigger as you speak, his words dripping with sarcasm as if you're playing right into his hands "oh so you are interested in what i have to say?"

"very much so but so far you've been talking a lot of shit which doesn't necessarly surprise me either"

jungkooks grin still remains maybe even gets bigger, his voice dripping of sarcasm, "oh c'mon you love anything that has a dick for you to suck on, you're not big on words"

you open the door a bit more further, sighing like you're tired: "well quite frankly i don't feel like having your dick in my mouth"

he runs his hands through his hair, few seconds of silence passing when he finally responds now a little more serious: "are you really gonna act like you didn't enjoy the last time we're together?"

you gulp, for the first time avoiding eye contact: "well not everything revolves around sex"

"ah well isn't that cute, trying to play innocent?" his smile suddenly disappears, his brow furrowing as he gives you a serious look, "look at me. right on the eyes"

you look him in the eyes again, voice getting just a bit louder: "you don't get it, you see any pussy and jump straight onto it then leave which would be fine- but i don't want us to be fuck buddies, i don't want us being awkward at work, i don't want to form an attraction beyond sex to you in any way and i won't even risk it- and you? you don't even think about anything, you just think with your dick"

his eyebrow raises as he lets out a chuckle and rolls his eyes, "yeah, yeah i guess i am quite a shitty guy for not wanting anything more than just to dick you down for all eternity"

you rest your head on the wall next to the door in frustration, making a sound close to a sigh again: "you'll leave me in a week, i'll get attached, you'll make fun of me- i don't want that" surprisingly honest and serious.

he stares at you for few seconds longer, you're not making eye contact anymore, still pressed on the wall your head facing downwards. he sighs and his eyes close as he takes a deep breath as if preparing himself for what he's about to say: "you really think that little of me huh?"

you respond calmly though still avoiding his eyes, admitting in all honesty: "you've given me no reason to think more of you"

and for the first time since you've ever seen him, you see jungkook generally hurt, his eyes not settling as he begins to slowly nod like he understood, taking a step back from the door, "i'll leave you alone"

you watch him take a few steps- but you just can't do this. he was right, for the first time in everything he has said so far- he was right: you wanted him. you didn't know if you wanted him beyond sex but you weren't gonna figure this out right now either so you made the spontanous gut decision, you swiftly walked behind him- grabbing his arm, stopping him.

"you can call me a dumb whore- but i've changed my decision, i don't want you to leave"

you can almost see his brain working your words out one by one till he returns to good old self, voice thick of sarcasm, a sly grin making it's way onto his face once more "oh and why's that?"

"can you shut up?"

it's a messy kiss. desperate, longing, needing - telling. his hands not settling, moving all across your body, squeezing and kneading wherever they can in a matter of time you both stumble back into your apartment, lips not breaking apart not even once even as he closes the front door with his foot, deepening the kiss mean while.

you get pushed back onto the couch, your lips still locked together as his hands move under your clothes, taking off each item of your clothing at lightning speed, like he's trying to tear them all apart.

you break away in the mean time to breathe as you basically pant, taking the short time to look down onto yourself, practically naked then look at him who still had way to many clothes on for your liking, "not fair" your words barerly good said as he basically swallowed them by kissing you once more.

he shifts his position again, wrapping his arms around your bare waist, pulling you onto his lap, groaning into the kiss, trying his best to combine keeping you in place with one hand and cupping your face rather violently with the other.

"please," you pull his pants just a bit to get your point across, "not fair" repeating what you already said like a broken toy in addition you pouted which y'know gets u sympathy points usually, you wanted to feel him- it was only fair.

"oh look who's upset?" a grin splarred over his face, tone mocking maybe even belittling, "you'll have to earn it" running his fingers through one of your hair strands till his gaze returns to your eyes.

"i thought we were over this," you whined till throwing your head back in frustration, "please, i was so nice"

"nice? you called me a shitty guy, thought little of me and basically called me a womanizer among other things." he puts both of his hands on your knees and spreads your legs apart more so you sit wider on him, "and you really think that 'pretty pretty please' is gonna be enough?"

no matter how good he was of a fucker, you weren't just gonna throw away your morals for him completly so you bluntly responded: "the fact that i'm even on your lap right now after some of the shit you said is pretty damn nice of me"

"fair point" he admits and his hands wander up your body once more, tracing each and every curve of your body, holding you down tightly to stop you from moving "you're not a nice girl. you know what you are?"

you responded instantly before he could say anything, putting a finger on his mouth to pervent more bullshit coming from that pretty mouth of his: "don't call me a whore, i won't tolerate slut shaming anymore when you're just as much of one as me, if not more"

he squeezed your thighs during your little speach, acting like a brat who doesn't give two shits about whatever you're saying, "you know i love it when you try to play this 'respect me' act, acting like you really are not some little whore that just wants to get pounded into a matress till she can't take it anymore"

you rolled your eyes immediately, taking in a deep breath: "everytime i have the feeling like i'm getting somewhere with you, i'm talking you developing your brain from teenage boy age 13 to 14, you piss me of even more- god i fucking hate you"

he leans forward, his body even closer to yours, a cruel smile crossing his face, "oh i love the way you get angry" his hot breath hitting your face and his eyes locked into yours, "it makes you look so helpless"

you get closer to his face, now inches apart to make sure the next few sentences really get to him: "i just want you to know that whatever you'll think after this whole thing, i want you to know that you didn't magically pull me in, i'm not helpless neither are you the only person with good dick in this shitplace, you're an avaible option that can be replaced at any given moment, you are a whore that goes around and gets used, no matter how much you hate that fact or not, it's the damn truth, so start being a fucking man and accept it, suck it up" you say something he'd say to you, a taste of his own medicine if you will.

you see it on his face that you've managed to finally get to him, like he's actually taken aback by something for once. your words seemed to cut him deeply and he just stares at you, his breath shaky and his eyes big, wide doed like you've never seen before.

"okay," you take his hands away from your thighs locking them with yours, face still close to his, holding eye contact, "it's okay, it's okay to have sex, it's okay to want to live a free live but you have to communicate that and stop being a prick, stop using girls, stop blowing your ego up and then maybe we could have something" you whisper it as calmly as she can, squeezing his hands every once in a while like you actually want to help him.

he looked onto the both hands locked together till squeezing your hand back, his voice trembling as he tries to remain calm when speaking, "why are you still being so nice to me?"

"you know you do this thing where i look at you and you say something so good, so rational and it happens every once in a while where i think to myself- this is why i can't leave our whole thing alone cause somewhere just somewhere there still is that one valueable dude, it's just-" you sigh, till burrying your head on his shoulder in frustration, "i'm so stupid, i feel like i'll always come back to you, i don't know if that's good"

he almost automatically wraps his arms around your figure and now is the time where you actually do feel helpless in his arms, god- you were so stupid.

he buries his face in your hair, breathing you in, he didn't want to feel this vulnerable around you- it almost hurt to let his emotions show "oh c'mon- don't say that, please" his voice is shaky and his words carry a clear feeling of hurt.

"i always used to say that i don't believe that people can change, it's funny how you try to make excuses and loopholes for your morals when you actually experience something on your own," you straighten up your posture, removing your head from his shoulder, avoiding his eyes while trying to gather your thoughts.

his voice still carries the same shaky emotion as he speaks "why are you avoiding eye contact?" he burries his head against your chest, rubbing against it like trying to make you look at him, softly beginning to lick the skin.

the more he nibbles and licks on your skin, the more little mumbles against the skin are hearable, "i'll make you forgive me" or "i'll make you forget" - it's like a trance.

his tongue getting to your tits, "look at me, please" he pleads like not having your attention on him even for just a few seconds is a crime sentence - at the same time wrapping his lips around one of your hardened nipples, sucking with just as much passion.

he leaves thick traces of saliva on both ones, an occasional muffeled moan slipping out, "could do this forever, i could die happy with one of- mmh" giving both of them his full diverted attention like he had to make sure the other one doesn't feel left out.

when his head comes up from your chest, his eyes are half-lidded, hair is all over the place, a little bit of saliva in the corner of his mouth yet he instantly cups your face kissing you again and again.

everytime he breaks away just shortly to breathe he whispers something into the air then immediately kisses you, swallowing the words like they were dangerous to fly around unanswered.

"wanna do this forever, have you on my tongue over and over again till my tongue goes numb, till i can't taste or feel anymore"

"wanna have you in every position you can think of, wanna fuck you so much your body only remembers me, my shape, my dick- everything, only me"

"wanna make you hate being touched by anybody else but me, i'll be so selfish with you"

dangerous words.

dangerous words that feel a bit to real.

it's so evident he has long lost any control over himself, those eyes still so doed like he's begging you to give in, fully drop your boundaries, to give into his fantasies. eyes locking with yours to speak up just once more like he's admitting something, voice more quiet:

"fuck it, i'm already way to selfish with you"

your hands find the zipper of his pants right before opening, pausing to say something yourself, "i'm selfish too, i choose what i want in the moment instead of what would be better for me in the longterm" you pressed your lips onto his almost to shut down your own thoughts, the important ones, the conscious ones that were barerly left till breaking off again, "i don't care, not right now"

you can already feel his hard cock rub against your panties through the jeans material, "i'm so hard it hurts" he looked at you so pleadingly like you were the doctor with the medicine to safe his life, like this was a do or die situation, a tiny cheeky pout on his face, "can you fix me?"

you didn't know if he was talking about himself as a whole or his cock but regardless you took his hands in order for him to stand up so it would be easier to remove his pants and boxers doing it all in one swift motion.

making him sit down onto the coach once again, he whined at the feeling of cold air on his bare skin and you not immediately sitting down onto him, you strip down your pretty ruined panties, his eye not knowing where to look as he played with his lip ring, tilting his head like he's tryna get a better view.

his hands reach out practically on their own, yearning to get his hands onto anything yours, "sit down, ride me" jungkooks tone shaky yet he tried his best to hide that (not rly working) as he added a tiny quiet "please" at the end of it, barerly audible to the average ear.

you couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that he was behaving like a child (nothing unusual) but the laugh got cut of by a moan as your pussy practically swallowed his length, his hands instantly quite harshly going to your hips, leading you- maybe even guiding.

"fuck yea-" his voice so awfully strained as his both of your hips moved in sync, his fingernails digging into your soft skin, making you groan.

"missed this pussy so much," he moaned out, throwing his head back onto the coach headboard till he weakly added: "so obssesed with you, i've been wanting this tight- mmh, fuck- ever since-"

he couldn't finish his sentence neither did he look like he could form any coherient thoughts, face scrunched up in pleasure, a bit of sweat on his forehead- and you probably didn't look any better yourself.

your walls clenched around him out of sheer response, you were so wrong- this was such bad decision, it would be so hard to let him go after this, it would-

"gonna cum, fuck- i can't"

his pressed out words cut through your thoughts like a sharp knife, the skin slapping noises suddenly feeling louder then they had been before, your own pussy clenching around him once again.

"can't hold it back, i don-"

he was going to leave marks on your hips for sure, you bet he didn't even realize how hard he had been squeezing the poor skin, occasionally moving to your ass.

you moaned yourself, feeling your own orgasm approaching, jungkooks eyes closed, lips parting slightly like he's on the top stage of ecstasy somewhere over the rainbow as you could feel your own walls getting coated with cum.

your body instantly went weak after, lightly collpasing onto his chest as though he seemed unusually tired he wrapped his arms around your back, stroking the skin and bone structure slowly.

it felt so comforting even your eyes closed, you felt so tired- what time was it again?

"fuck- i forgot the condom" his fingers paused, the shook in his voice audible.

"i'm on the pill, we're good" you closed your eyes again, now the clear goal was to fall asleep.

yet y'know how it was with your plans and jungkook- he cut through them as he lied still for a few minutes till whispering, "i don't hate you by the way" his fingers now again continuing the gentle act on your back even slower then before like a quit lullaby, "not even one bit"

"i know"

[likeumeanit9497]

in the clouds | m.s. |

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: matt is taking y/n home to boston to meet his parents for the first time, and y/n would be lying if she said she wasn't nervous. but once they've been in the air for a few hours and boredom begins to get to them both, they find a way to occupy themselves.

warnings: smut; established relationship; mutual masturbation; p in v; dirty talk; a little fluff if you squint; unprotected sex; 18+

notes: i wrote this suuuuper quick so def not my best work, but it's been a while since i posted something so i wanted to get something up here. i hope ya'll enjoy!!!

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

“Have a great flight.” The lady at the terminal gate said to me with a smile as she handed me my scanned ticket. “Thank you.” I replied before walking towards my boyfriend, Matt, who was waiting for me a few feet ahead. Once I reached him, he grabbed my hand and placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “You ready?” He asked, to which I inhaled a deep breath and nodded apprehensively.

Matt and I met at a party about eight months ago, and had hit it off right away. I had been drawn in by his sunken blue eyes and withdrawn behaviour that night, but grew hooked by his kind nature and complex personality once we began speaking regularly. We made it official less than a month after meeting, and had been inseparable since. Our relationship developed into something quite serious rather quickly, but things still somehow felt new and exciting everyday.

Today, we were flying back to his hometown in Boston, where I was going to meet his parents for the first time. Although he had reassured me countless times that MaryLou and Jimmy were going to love me, I couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated by meeting two of the most important people in Matt’s life. Not only that, but I had also never been in a relationship that grew serious enough to meet the parents of my significant other before now; so the unknown territory made the whole ordeal all the more daunting.

Matt’s triplet brothers Chris and Nick had left for Boston the day before, as I had to stay in Los Angeles an extra day for work. This added another unsettling element, as I had grown so used to the presence of the other two on a day-to-day basis. However, what that meant was Matt and I had a good excuse to buy first class tickets instead of the usual economy tickets. This brought me some relief, as I had never sat in first class before and knew that I would be able to relax much easier than I had on previous flights.

Arriving at the front of the plane, we were guided by the flight attendant to the fifth row of seats and I gasped. In front of me was a spacious row with just two large seats. The seats were joined together — separated only by an arm rest — but both had a ridiculous amount of leg room, and there was even a privacy curtain available to use at the end of the aisle.

“Oh my god Matt, this one row is almost as big as my entire bedroom at home!” I exclaimed excitedly before hurrying into my window seat. Matt chuckled before following me into the row and getting comfortable in his own seat beside mine. “I take it you like it?” He asked sarcastically, though I still nodded my head like an enthusiastic toddler. “Well, get settled in baby. We’ve got a five and a half hour flight ahead of us.” He leaned over the cushioned arm rest between our seats and planted a soft kiss on my lips. I sighed at the reminder before investigating the small gift bundle beside my seat. There were a few snacks, some travel-sized toiletries, and a pillow and blanket; I couldn’t help but squeal from excitement. “Holy shit Matt! Look at this stuff!” I quickly unfolded the blanket and wrapped myself in it as he did the same. “I know, it’s cool right. And it doesn’t stop there, watch this.” Matt smirked before reaching under his chair, when suddenly his seat reclined all the way back and transformed into a bed.

“WHAT?” I exclaimed before searching under my own seat for the recline handle. I giggled as my chair fell back and I was suddenly horizontal. “Oh my god, I am in heaven.” I sighed blissfully, stretching my arms above my head in bliss. “And look,” Matt continued, reaching for the arm rest and pushing it back so that it became flush with our beds, “Now we just have one big bed to share.” He giggled before scooting closer to my side while simultaneously grabbing my waist and pulling me into him. I laughed and rolled over so that I could face him; propping myself up on my elbow and gazing down at him. “Thank you Matty.” I said before planting a gentle kiss on his eyelid. “You don’t have to thank me, Y/n,” He chuckled, “I just can’t wait for my parents to meet you.” My heart fluttered from his words, and I repositioned my body so that I could curl into his.

“I can’t wait to meet them, either. I mean, I’m nervous as fuck but I really do want to get to know the two people who created you three weirdos.” I closed my eyes, feeling my body relax as the plane began moving down the tarmac. Matt mindlessly rubbed my back as we laughed, just waiting for the unmistakable sensation of the plane taking off.

Once we were finally in the air, I rolled over to fetch my air pods from my backpack. “Let’s listen to some music, I can’t stand all this white noise in here.” I said, handing the left pod to Matt and keeping the right for myself. Once they were secured in both of our ears, I scrolled through my Spotify account to find mine and Matt’s shared playlist before hitting shuffle. I fell onto my back and closed my eyes as the music played in both of our ears; growing more and more comfortable as my eyes grew heavy and the sensation of sleep began to overtake me.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

I was awoken from my deep sleep by the sound of a baby wailing a few aisles behind me. Forgetting where I was for a moment, I woke with a startle before remembering that I was on a plane. Slightly disoriented, I checked the time on my phone to discover that we had been in the air for four hours. I was shocked that I was able to sleep that long on a flight, since usually in the economy seats I would struggle to even get 45 minutes of true rest. I looked to my right at Matt’s sleeping figure. He was lying on his stomach with his peaceful face turned in my direction — very clearly having as deep of a sleep as I was previously having. His dark eyelashes fluttered slightly every now and then, and due to the way his face pressed against the small pillow, his pink lips were squished into an exaggerated pout.

Admiring his undeniable beauty, I had to resist the urge to lean over and pepper him with kisses. Instead, I went on my phone and began scrolling through our music playlist. After queuing a few songs, I moved onto my camera roll to kill some time as I felt boredom begin to overtake me. I felt like the biggest loser ever as I scrolled through the countless photos I had taken of Matt and I over the past few months with a corny smile plastered to my face. We truly had spent nearly every single day together since that first night that we met, and I had been sure to capture as many memories on camera as I could.

I continued to scroll for a few moments before coming across a particular memory that caused me to audibly gasp. It was a video that Matt and I had made about a month before. Our first and only sex tape. Before playing the video, I snuck a glance at Matt to make sure he was still sleeping and turned the volume down to zero so that it wouldn’t play through the air pod that was still resting in his ear. Cautiously, I hit play on the video and watched from Matt’s angle as he pounded into me from behind. To be completely honest, I had totally forgotten that we had taken that video and hadn’t even watched it before, so I stared in awe as our bodies collided again and again. The only issue was that I so badly wanted to hear the audio as my curiosity notoriously got the better of me in situations such as this. I was curious to know what I really sounded like during sex, and knew that listening to the audio was one of the only ways that I could.

Suddenly, I had an idea that would not only allow me to listen but would also have the potential to wake Matt up. Looking at him once again with a smirk across my face, I started the video from the beginning; this time with the volume about halfway up. Instantly, my right ear was filled with the unmistakably erotic sounds of our sex; body parts smacking against one another, loud moans, and the occasional dirty phrase falling from one of our mouths.

With the brightness on my phone turned down low, I watched intently at our moving bodies on my screen. I could only pull my eyes away to take a quick glance at Matt, who was beginning to shift around slightly under the blanket. I watched him for a moment, noticing that his eyes were still closed and he appeared to still be sound asleep. Growing frustrated that he still wasn’t waking up, I turned the sound on my phone to maximum volume just as the recorded version of him and I were reaching our climaxes. The crude noises became more and more erratic as the volume increased, and suddenly Matt’s blue eyes shot open.

He scanned the area frantically, obviously disoriented and confused by the sounds swarming his ears. When his eyes finally met mine and he noticed the playful smile on my face, he visibly relaxed and rolled his eyes sarcastically. “Y/n, what the fuck are you watching?” He asked through a chuckle before leaning towards me to take a glance at my phone screen. “Oh my god, you’re ridiculous.” He added once he caught a glimpse of the two of us in the video; falling onto his back and covering his eyes with his crossed arms.

I collapsed into a fit of laughter before innocently replying, “What?”, fluttering my eyelashes and softening my voice. He simply shook his head, but I could see his lips curling into a smile behind his protective arms. “Don’t get me started, baby. Get some rest.” Was his reply, and I grumbled internally. I was far from tired, not only because I had already slept for four hours, but because I had just worked myself up for the past few minutes by watching that video. Still, I reluctantly obliged by hitting shuffle on our playlist once again before finding a comfortable position to attempt to get a bit more sleep.

My eyes were closed, my breathing was steady, but my body was wide awake; so I felt the shift that came from Matt sitting up in the bed. I was laying on my side with my back facing him, but through the soft music playing in my ear I could hear the privacy curtain slide across its rod. My eyes stayed shut as I felt the warmth of his body pressing up against me. I pretended to not feel his hand gently gliding across the curves of my hips, or his hardening member nudging against my thigh. However, once his lips pressed against the sensitive spot on my neck, my body began to fail me in its pretend ignorance. He delicately sucked on my thin skin, and my pulse began to quicken. His cool breath tickled my neck and I shivered in anticipation. His hand slowly traveled from my hip down my stomach, before finally reaching under my waistband towards my core, and I released a shaky breath.

I felt his lips upturn into a smile against my neck at my clear response. “Oh, so you are awake.” He teased, moving his hand away from my heat and resting his chin in the crook of my neck. I opened my eyes to a squint and looked at him. “What are you doing?” I asked with a slight whine in my voice. He scoffed dramatically. “What, you think you could play a video like that and expect me not to get worked up?” I smiled shyly before responding. “I just wanted to wake you. I was bored.” He scooted himself even closer to me, so that now our bodies were pressed tight against each other. “Oh yeah?” He placed a kiss to my neck again, this time tugging lightly at the skin with his teeth. “And what did you want to do to try to counteract this boredom?” He whispered, and my breath hitched as he brought a hand under my shirt and began fondling my sensitive nipples.

I closed my eyes before turning my body so that I was now facing him. “Matt, we are on a plane right now.” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper by the end of my sentence. He smirked before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “That’s what the curtain is for, sweetheart.” My eyes shifted to the space behind him, where the curtain was shut and properly secured by a hook near his head. My focus was brought back to him as I felt his hands gently begin tugging down my sweatpants. “You just have to be quiet for me, okay?�� I gulped nervously before nodding my head mindlessly, already growing distracted by the arousal beginning to form in my panties.

Matt pulled me closer to him before placing a soft kiss against my lips. His hand gently ran up and down my inner thigh, just barely grazing my heat with each stroke. He placed another kiss against my lips, this one longer and deeper than the first, and he put his right leg between my knees to prop them up and apart. Our mouths moved against each other in sync, and my hands began to travel through his hair, over his shoulders, and finally down to his stomach. I hissed when he finally cupped his hand over my heat, his thumb just barely resting on my clit. Even through the thin layer of fabric that was my panties, the contact was intense. “Mmm, baby, you’re already so wet for me.” He mumbled gruffly against my lips, causing me to squirm.

“Touch me Matty, please.” I begged softly, my eyes pleading as my core began to throb. He chuckled, our teeth clanking together gently, before attacking my neck with his mouth. “So needy, huh? You want these fingers?” He cooed, sliding two of his fingers — now hooked under my panties — up my slit to collect my juices. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my bottom lip as I nodded frantically. “Mhm.” Was all I managed to get out in response to his question. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He was taunting me, both with his words and with his fingers as he toyed with my outer folds. I squirmed again, shifting slightly so that I was more on my back so that I could widen my legs easier. “N-need your fingers baby.” I managed to groan out, doing my best to keep my voice low so that our actions could go unnoticed by everyone around us.

Now leaning over me slightly, he looked down at me with hooded eyelids and a matching smirk. “That’s my girl.” He replied before finally rubbing circles on my swollen clit. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I became engulfed in the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation. I opened my eyes to find his traveling across my face. He had clearly been watching me in my state of ecstasy, and his blown out pupils and parted wet lips were clear signs that he was liking what he was seeing. Suddenly, a sharp moan escaped my lips as he plunged two of his fingers into me, and he quickly planted a firm hand over my mouth to prevent any more noises as he curled his fingers in and out of me mercilessly. The sensation became almost too much once he connected the base of his palm to my clit and began rubbing it in rhythm with his other movements, and almost without thinking I began clawing at the waist band of his sweatpants; desperate to feel more of him.

I pulled his sweats and his boxers down in one swift movement, and immediately began toying with his rock hard cock. Looking up at him as he continued his movements, I brought my hand to my mouth and allowed my collected saliva to drip onto it before bringing it back to his member. I began milking the tip of his cock and immediately noticed a change of pace in his fingers on my cunt. I watched his face as his eyes fluttered shut momentarily and his ears began to grow red. “Fuck, Y/n.” He moaned softly, his words alone enough to drive me crazy. I continued to stroke him, feeling each and every vein along his sizeable shaft, as I felt the familiar tingling sensation of an orgasm fast approaching.

“I-I need more of you Matty. Give me your cock please.” I was really begging now. My legs were beginning to shake and I was close to losing all control, but I wanted to cum around him. I watched as Matt’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head as his dick twitched in my hand, a clear sign that my words had an impact on him, too. “Turn on your side.” He commanded, and I immediately obliged. Once I was facing away from him, he wasted no time in lying down beside me — one of his arms wrapped across my chest and massaging my right tit — and sliding his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

We both couldn’t help but release small moans at the satisfying feeling that came from him bottoming out, but he gave me little time to adjust to his size before thrusting into me almost desperately. Using his grasp on my tit, he pushed my back against his chest so that my body was flush with his. “Jesus baby, you’re so tight.” He praised softly, his mouth pressed against my ear as his hips continued to snap against my ass. I couldn’t manage a reply, instead I brought my right hand up to grab onto the back of his neck. I fell into a deep trance from the feeling of my spongey walls stretching and moulding to his cock as if they were two matching puzzle pieces. He left sloppy open mouthed kisses all along my face, growing careless with his movements as the pressure in my lower half began to grow almost unbearable.

“You’re close, aren’t you sweetheart.” He breathed against my hair. I couldn’t do much more than nod my head. “It’s okay, let go. Just be a good girl and stay quiet for me okay?” He used his free hand to once again cover my mouth in anticipation of what might come just as my orgasm bubbled over. I did everything I could to stay silent, but as my orgasm tore through me a plethora of moans fell from my lips and into his gentle hand. My grip on the back of his neck tightened and my back arched away from his torso as I felt the unmistakable warm spurt of fluid stream from my cunt.

Just as I began coming down from my high, Matt released a few short grunts before halting his movements entirely. “Fuuuuck.” His profanity came out in a breathy sigh. His forehead fell to my shoulder, and I could feel his dick pulsating inside of me as he painted my walls with his cum. After a moment, I felt his body relax behind me and he collapsed onto his pillow. For a little while, the only sounds coming from our little corner of the plane was the sound of our ragged breathing as we attempted to regain our composure.

“Well,” Matt eventually began, sitting up and lifting the blanket, exposing the wet spot in the bed that my squirt created, “How are we gonna explain this one?” I took a moment to look at it before sliding my sweats back on. “Easy, we just tell them that you got a little scared of the turbulence and pissed yourself.” He rolled his eyes as he put his pants back on as well, and I laughed. “You’re something else kid.”

Just then, a woman’s voice came from behind the closed curtain. Matt looked at me quickly to ensure that I was fully clothed before opening the curtain and coming face to face with an older flight attendant. “Hi there.” She said, her voice cheerful and her face plastered with a fake smile. “We’re going to be making our landing in Boston in about thirty minutes, please return to an upright position as soon as you can.” Matt nodded his head and gave her a quick smile before she promptly moved down to the next row of flyers. As soon as she was out of earshot, he gave me a cheeky side eye and we both immediately broke into fits of laughter.

“We timed that well.” He said through his laughter and I covered my face with my hands. “I can’t believe we just did that.” I replied, shaking my head as I came to the realization that I had just fucked my boyfriend on a commercial flight. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. “We’re in the mile high club now, baby.” He kissed the top of my head. “Now let’s get our seats back up. Only thirty minutes until you meet my parents!”

[sunderwight]

disciple luo binghe, running errands for his shizun one day, somehow manages to be in the exact wrong (right) place at the exact wrong (right) time and catches shang qinghua meeting with mobei jun

in order to keep luo binghe from tattling right away, shang qinghua dissembles in a panic and claims that his clandestine meetings with mobei jun are happening because they're lovers and definitely not because shang qinghua is betraying the sect and handing their secrets over to demons in order to save his own hide. when that almost doesn't work, he also tells luo binghe that he knows he's part demon, and that if luo binghe rats him out then shang qinghua will take him down with him. mutually assured destruction

it works, and even though luo binghe threatens him quite a bit (jeez kid calm down, you might be the almighty protagonist but also you're like sixteen) he agrees to keep shang qinghua's fraternizing a secret. but if ANYTHING BAD should happen to the sect or especially to luo binghe's shizun because of this, luo binghe will take shang qinghua down even if it does ruin his life too

shang qinghua, now sweating even more bullets about the impending immortal alliance conference: cool! cool cool cool sounds great cool yeah

so shang qinghua can add "being blackmailed by the punk ass brat I sort of created" to his list of stress-inducing woes. which gets even worse when luo binghe keeps somehow sensing if mobei jun is around for more than a couple hours and showing up, and picking fights with him?? kind of??

wtf has the protagonist been taking tips from liu qingge or something...?

shang qinghua feels like he's gonna have a heart attack when mobei jun just snorts and tosses luo binghe by the scruff like he's an annoying yappy dog

mobei jun actually knows what's up though. teenage half-demon who has never been around his own kind has become spoiled by the lack of competition on this front, and now his hackles are all up because he wants to claim the whole mountain range as his territory, and his instincts are screaming at him to challenge mobei jun about it so that they can decide who is actually top dog. since mobei jun could easily kill him, especially with his blood sealed, and has been clawing rocks and pissing on trees along the borders of an ding peak since before luo binghe was born, he's clearly got seniority here

and since qinghua doesn't want mobei jun to just kill the little shit (fair enough -- that sealed bloodline does look kind of interesting) that means it's up to mobei jun to teach him how to do things like interact with other demons without making a complete fool of himself. lesson one: what to do when you challenge someone out of your league and they win, assuming they don't just kill you

so luo binghe reluctantly gains another demon tutor

meng mo actually approves. he's been out of the loop on demon high society for a long time, and has lacked a body for long enough too that he's forgotten a lot of the particulars of socializing. it'll be good for luo binghe to pick up some manners that aren't just silly human tea ceremonies and things. maybe he'll start addressing meng mo more respectfully for a change!

(lol no)

luo binghe is partly like "I don't need to learn demon social skills since I'm spending the rest of my life as a disciple of qing jing peak" but partly like, well, if shizun knew about this and didn't freak out about it, he'd probably say that knowledge is power and learning how to handle politics and diplomacy of all kinds is important. and despite himself luo binghe is also interested, because this is a whole perspective on his own nature that he's never really gotten advice about

also, mobei jun is the lover of shang qinghua? mobei jun is a demon who successfully seduced a cang qiong peak lord? does he have any advice about that?

(he does -- all of it very bad)

anyway all of this sort of fucks up the immortal alliance conference developments really good, so the system kind of gives up and settles on some other big transformative achievements that luo binghe has to complete in order to be suitably heroic

but shen qingqiu has no idea and so the reprieve just seems to come out of nowhere until several years later, when he walks in on luo binghe with his claws out and huadian gleaming in the company the demon king of the northern desert, the two of them playing weiqi or something while they wait for shang qinghua to get back from some random logistics crisis he had to rush off to

shen qingqiu: ...?!?

luo binghe, panicking: wait shizun I can explain it's not what it looks like SHIZUN I SWEAR I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU PLEASE DON'T BE MAD--!

shen qingqiu: all this time I thought you were sneaking out to meet a girl, and this was what you were doing instead?!

luo binghe: WHAT?? shizun no I'd never do that I swear I don't even like girls!

shen qingqiu: that's not -- wait what do you mean you don't even like girls?!

mobei jun, unperturbed and still focused on the weiqi board: he's gay

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

A Changed Future (1): Yandere Isekai 

When you woke after an especially tiresome day the last thing you’d expect was to reawake in a room that looked nothing like your own

The house, the neighborhood, your job everything was not your own

Instead, it’s resembling a webtoon you remember seeing the marketing, edits, and spoilers for

And if it was all adding up right you’d find the horrifying truth behind the controversial protagonist of the story would be incredibly true

“Look I’m sorry I yelled…I love you…I’m really hungry. Can I eat today?”

The beautiful and practically perfect protagonist was the one who trapped their love interest inside their–now your basement

Chained to the floor on a chair in the dark with unfinished surroundings was the poor victim of the yandere protagonist

Haruko, is an average guy who previously caught the protagonist’s attention by standing up to one an influential pair of elitists in defense of their crush but that’s hearsay

In the former protagonist's atmosphere the children of the rich were victims to their family’s whims often protecting their wealth rather than their children

Which caused Haruko to defend his friend from their overbearing parents

That is when the protagonist suddenly fell deeply in love with the average fellow 

Obsessively stalking him and eliminating their rivals by any means necessary

finally snatching their love and running to a small little home where they planned to have their dreamy life 

Of course, after breaking his spirit and having Haruko develop some kind of stockholm syndrome

To find that you’ve been isekai’d is jarring 

But being a protagonist that had the internet raving for years about how unhealthy they were is awful

But it was nothing when you were standing at the top of the stairs and watching the malnourished man call out to you

“Yeah….sure.”

Naturally you calm down, enough to make the poor guy something to eat and drink

Excusing yourself to have a breakdown in the bathroom before coming up with a plan to fix it all

“Y-you’re letting me go?”

“Yes, I won’t stop if you want to go to the police…but I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t.”

You felt so selfish 

But you weren’t the one who imprisoned him

Now that you were though you were going to turn a new leaf

After feeding him, clothing him, and giving him a hefty sum from the protagonists savings 

You go to their place of work where they’re in line for a promotion

“I quit.”

“E-excuse me (L/n)?! But your about to become the vice president of the company!?”

“I know. Sorry?”

You almost feel bad turning down the CEO who visits to try and reason with you

In your opinion, the protagonist didn’t deserve any of their success

They technically didn’t need it because they were stacked

Same could be said for the detective thats been constantly asking the protagonist questions

“You are actually agreeing to talk with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you hit your head?!”

With the knowledge from spoilers and ads you’d seen, you knew that the worst part of this story is that the protagonist is doing just fine while Haruka continues to struggle with his captivity and manufactured feelings

You want to do this right, whether you were meant to live in this world from now on or would one day return to your own

But in the meantime you’d do what you felt was right 

Turning their life—now your life around to somehow try to condone for all the crimes they’ve done

Unfortunately, though things don’t seem to want to go your way

“Please Please take me back!” 

“What?”

“You heard me! You were right you’re the only one who loves me! I love you! Please! Please! Take me back in your basement!”

“Okay?”

It seems that once you released the poor guy he returned to society

Expecting to be welcomed by his friends and family upon being missing for years

Who instead had moved on or had benefitted from him being declared dead

He tried to go back to working but he couldn’t get you out of his head

Not the one that ranted about adoring him and the one that would go days without feeding him

But the one that cried when you saw his skin bruising in his chains

The one that fed him a hot meal 

The one that helped him relearn to use his weakened legs

The one that keeps apologizing for every little thing you do

That’s the you, he likes

And he’d much prefer he turn back to being a victim trapped in your basement if it meant having you back in his life

“I don’t mind if you stay here if you need but I’m not keeping you trapped here. I won’t do it anymore.”

He cries and bangs his hands on the floor when you officially tell him

But he’ll take you up on your offer to move in with you

“Good morning (Y/n)! Since you quit your job you’re getting up so much later now. You’ve got to be careful waking too late.”

“Uhm how do you know I quit my job?”

“Unless you're locking me in the basement you don’t need to know!~”

He’s like a weird roommate who occasionally asks that you restrain him in some way

Purposefully rummaging in your storage to find ropes that you haven’t thrown away yet or buying them himself and leaving them out

“Ooops~! I did leave a chain out while cleaning! I’m so bad, being so careless even though you’ve been so against it. I should be punished! I know, you should tie me up! Right? Right? Right?”

He’s going insane everytime you refuse his demands to be locked away

You’re even sweeter now that he’s not locked away and that’s not helping

He’ll ultimately decide he should try it

“Hey (Y/n)?”

“Yes?”

“You still feel guilty about what you did to me right?”

“...Yes.”

“Then how about you do something for me? To make up for it?”

Even if you know you’ve done nothing wrong 

The guilt doesn’t stop you

Letting him lock you in the basement as he repeats some of the same punishments he remembers

Or rather tries to

“I just can’t seem to stand being away from you for a day, let alone not feed you then. I have no idea how you did it.”

You couldn’t be sure either

Which is why you don’t protest as his actions tend to get a bit more…wild

“Like you suggested I did try going for that new job again.”

“Uh that’s good.”

“I know since you’ve left they seem to be desperately searching for extra hands. I’d feel bad for them if you weren’t with me!”

“Right…”

“But being away from you all day is killing me! Maybe I should look for a more remote position.”

He treats you better than the former protagonist did 

Quickly moving you up to your old room and just chaining you there

But he wants more from you 

More Kisses

More Cuddles 

More Romance 

More Touching

More Quality time

He takes up so much of it, that the same problems that happened in the webtoon were happening again

Except this time it was related to you

“I’m Revmere the CEO of the Revere Co. I’m wondering is (Y/n) home? I’ve been trying to reach them by phone but it hasn’t been going through.”

“And I’m Detective Cape. Thomas Cape, I also need to speak with (Y/n) and you too if that’s alright Haruko.”

Part 2: Coming Soon

[deus-lapidis]

How they sleep

Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Zhongli x gn!reader

Genre: fluff

A/N: old but gold, one of my favourites

This is a repost! Here’s a short explanation why

Masterlist

Diluc

Pre-relationship:

He slept curled into himself as if to shield himself in his sleep. Usually on his right side, sometimes on the left side, depending on the soreness of his body.

Very rarely sleeps on his stomach or back, though stomach appears more often. Gets uncomfortable if it's too hot, so he sleeps with the blanket halfway draped over him.

Either way he has really bad sleeping habits for a person that works so much in the winery and as batman for patrolling.

Didn't really sleep in because he never had any reason to do so? He just got up to work and go about his day.

In a relationship:

Almost always the big spoon, doesn't matter if you're taller or shorter than him. Snakes one arm around you, intertwining your hand with his, his head resting on top of yours. He likes holding you and just relishing in your warmth, determined to protect the light of his life.

Usually comes home quite late, so he's careful to not wake you up when laying down. Every night he plays the risky game of pulling you into his arms, but even when you do wake up, warmth spreads out in his chest when you just tiredly snuggle into him.

When you're absent:

Halfheartedly climbs into bed, tossing and turning a lot. The usual peace you bring him gone and leaving him worry about your well-being. Who knew that he could only barely go without your presence once he got a taste of it?

But the yearning made it all the better when you returned from your trip, smiling at him, while you two lie there in proximity and fall asleep in contentment.

Kaeya

Pre-relationship:

On the side, right side to be precise. That's where his eyepatch is. Regardless of whether people would think it was an injury, fashion statement or a mysterious aspect of him, he somehow developed the habit of covering it when he sleeps.

Tucks his arm under his pillow and would flip his pillow to the cool side. Sometimes even clutches the blanket to his chest.

His sleeping habits aren't great, but they're not too bad either. A little inconsistent though. On some occasions he'll stay up until 3am, on others he's out at 11pm.

Does sleep in, it's a form of relaxation for him, maybe even revisiting a nice dream while the rest of Mondstadt slowly awakes.

In a relationship:

Definitely asks for cuddles and for you to come to bed with him, he holds it very dear. He wants to make sure that he's able to go to bed with you at all times and tells you beforehand if he won't make it home early enough.

He likes feeling your warmth, so usually your head on his arm or where it connects to his shoulder and your arm draped over his midsection.

When you're absent:

Adorably upset. Of course he can sleep without you, but having you there just simply enhances the quality of sleep (sources: trust me, bro). Has faith in you returning safely, but thinks a lot about you. Maybe even fiddles with something you once gifted him and pressing it to his chest while falling asleep.

Drags you off to nap in his office when you return. It's either you on his chest or him on top of you, burying his face into your neck to sleep.

Childe:

Pre-relationship:

I can see him sleeping on his stomach, knocked out, snoring softly with his cheek squished against the back of his hand.

Likes to burrito himself sometimes, cause it makes him feel like it's a warm embrace. Yes, Shnezhnaya did have heat sources and ovens, but he rolled himself into the blanket when he was little and never dropped the habit. (i could make this angsty but i won't)

Bad sleeping habits. *sprays water in face*

Busy harbinger go brrr and has totally tended his own wounds before just passing out on his bed on several occasions. (“What’s your night routine?” “Do you mean what style of wound stitching I do…?”)

Likes sleeping in but rarely does it, since he's always kinda busy.

In a relationship:

Whines for you to snuggle with him when he's in bed and you don't come in a span of 15 minutes. Very persistent. Will not stop until you come and give him affection. He's touch starved and shameless about it.

Usually pulls you on top of him. He's a big boy, so he just likes it when you're snugly pressed against him and he thinks you look cute whenever you look up to him. Gives you a small kiss before sleeping, always.

When you're absent:

Functions, but is grumpy about it. Would rather be sleeping with you. Who is he going to kiss goodnight now? His pillow?

Makes a mental note to tell you, that he doesn't want you to take long missions for a bit after this. He wants to have his angel safe and sound with him, sleeping in his arms.

When you do return he needs a refill of physical affection first (an Ajax would usually take about 2 hours worth of cuddles until fully charged) and definitely whispers to you, that he was terribly lonely. This time he gets a goodnight kiss from you :)

Zhongli:

Pre-relationship:

Slept on his back, pretty still actually. Sometimes he does turn a little, resulting in his hair fuzzing up a bit. Drapes the blanket over his body, arms securing it and that's literally it. Classic old man behaviour, right there. Has a little trouble falling asleep sometimes though, so he does sometimes shift to his side, just to flop back into his previous position.

Decent sleeping habits. But has restless nights where his memories haunt him. Sometimes he wanders around in his house or goes on a nightly walk if he's unable to sleep.

Doesn't really sleep in, because he likes to brew some tea early in the morning and enjoys hearing the world wake up.

In a relationship:

He's secretly a little clingy (just a little) and is always happy to pull you into his embrace. He likes looking at your peaceful expression, so he prefers facing each other with your arm draped over him, hand on his back.

Will run his thumb over your ribcage and rest his forehead on yours.

When you're absent:

I think he does the best out of all of them, because he does miss you, but it doesn't take him over.

Secretly hopes that you won't be leaving for another time and just stay in his arms, stay with him. Does get a little worried when he reminisces memories of cold, cruel people. May they be from the current time or his previous life as Morax. Usually tries to calm himself by filling his mind with nice memories of you and him together.

When you return he's overjoyed to see you're safe and back by his side. Laying there, face to face with the person he loves, he strokes your cheeks gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping off into peaceful slumber.

[sxcret-garden]

2nd Desire ღ Tie Me Down [M]

ღ Aspects of Desire series ღ Ateez Jongho x fem!reader ღ feat.: Yeosang ღ words: ~5.1k ღ genre: established relationship, college AU, fluff, some humor, slice of life, smut (dom!Jongho, sub!reader, reader masturbating and asking to be punished for it, reader’s hands tied together, he’s a bit mean but goes soft dom when reader shows signs of discomfort, strength kink, fingering, some body worship, teasing, begging, unprotected sex) ღ warnings: (him running his hand through reader’s hair)

Desc.: Lost in your excitement over the recent development in your relationship with your boyfriend Jongho, you try to tickle more of his dominant side out of him. When he shuts down that attempt with only the best of intentions, he makes sure you won’t stay flustered by your miscalculation for long.

Author's note: chapter 2 and I'm STILL nervous about posting kasjdfölksa I hope you guys enjoy though~ alsoalso I decided to do a taglist for this fic, so if you want to be added, just drop me an ask about it <3

← prev chapter ღ next chapter →

You drop your bag beside the entrance as you walk into Jongho’s apartment, the little melody resounding when the door falls into its lock that’s usually just another background noise to you manages to annoy you on this day. It’s only half past 4, yet you feel like you’ve been awake for more than 20 hours. 

You slip out of your shoes and step inside, the sofa in the living room being your destination. With a groan you let your body flop down onto it, the cushioned surface softening the impact. You’ve been at university since morning, your first class of the day being quite an interesting one and almost making you forget about the dreadful events that would follow suit. For lunch you met up with other students from your major to work on your group project, and these people really remind you time and time again why you absolutely hate group projects. You’re a group of seven, yet somehow the only ones taking the whole thing seriously are you and Yeosang, a guy you’ve done a course with before and who you luckily ended up being in the same group with. You know from back then that he does his work diligently enough - what you didn’t know was how badly the other five would do. One of them ran late, claiming he was convinced the meeting would start at 2 and not at half past 1, one of them didn’t show up at all, the others half-assed their parts and one girl only did half of what she was supposed to do. It’s a mess, and it’s stressing you out, because you’re getting a shared group grade for the paper. If you were being graded individually, you would’ve already decided to just do well on your own part, and make sure to precisely document who worked how much, but since you can’t exactly do that here it eventually came to the point where you decided it would be better if you took over the lead. As the person who has assigned herself the role of scolding the others into doing their work properly, you didn’t exactly gain their sympathy, but thankfully Yeosang was right there to have your back. Sharing their disdain was still better than having to shoulder it all alone, so you made a mental note to thank him with a cup of coffee or a meal later on.

But for now you want nothing more than to get this stupid project out of your mind, and lying motionlessly on the sofa and staring at a wall without any kind of distraction from your angry thoughts running wild isn’t exactly the best way to go about that. So you get up with a heavy sigh, peeking into your boyfriend’s room through the gap in the door standing ajar, before walking inside. He isn’t home yet - you assume he must be on his way, because his last class of the day should’ve ended about 10 minutes ago. Walking over to his closet, you open the side where he made space for some of your clothes, and you grab some comfortable pants and a t-shirt you haven’t worn in a while. There’s the logo of a game printed at the front - coincidentally a game you both used to play when you were still in school, and one of the topics you bonded over as you were slowly becoming closer.

You trod over to the bathroom, figuring you should take a shower in an attempt to clear your mind first of all - maybe you could magically find a way to wash off all the frustration the day has drenched you in. Either way, at least the warm water raining down on your skin has a calming effect on you, and so for a few minutes you merely stand there, doing nothing. You reach for the soap eventually, and as you’re cleaning yourself your thoughts slowly drift elsewhere.

Until you remember the conversation you had with Jongho about establishing a different kind of dynamic between you two. Your fingers dance up your body to your throat, and padding them onto your pulse reminds you of what it felt like to have his hand in this position instead. The thoughts of the project are quickly forgotten, yet your cells have not quite let go of the frustration yet - but that’s nothing a quick orgasm couldn’t take care of, right?

So you let your hands wander, allowing them to map out your own body wherever instinct leads them, and as your fingers find your core, you let out a long sigh. This feels like just what you need right now, so you don’t hold back, beginning to draw circles onto your sensitive bud. Feeling your limbs relax from the sensation, you lean your back against the wall, and eventually you reach out for the shower head, changing the setting to the highest pressure and letting it do the work for you.

You don’t think of much at all, simply enjoying the pleasure coursing through your body, until you can sense yourself coming closer to the edge, and you buck your hips up against the water jet.

“Fuck…” you whimper, as a scenario crosses your mind. “What if he finds out…” You gulp at the thought of Jongho figuring out you got off without him, in his apartment, and your mind begins to wander as you fantasize about all the ways in which he might punish you for it. Another curse escapes you through gritted teeth, and soon you feel your high crashing down on you, walls clenching around nothing as his name falls from your lips.

You step out of the shower feeling refreshed, purposely not changing back the setting of the shower head. You want him to catch you, want to know about all the things he would do to you that you haven’t seen him do before. Slipping into fresh clothes and wrapping a towel around your head to let your hair dry a bit before finishing the process with a blow dryer, you grin to yourself and you walk out into the living room. 

Your boyfriend comes home about half an hour later, just as you’re putting the blow dryer back to its original place in one of the cabinets in his bathroom. You suppress the excited grin that just won’t leave your lips, and instead greet him as per usual.

“You’re late,” you remark as you catch sight of the time displayed on your phone screen.

“Yeah, the subway was crowded. Should’ve taken the bus,” he mutters as he walks up to you, his hand patting your head in a gesture that’s supposed to say “I’m home.”

“Right, it’s starting to get bad at this time,” you continue your small talk.

“How did your meet-up go?”

“Don’t ask…” you brush it off quickly, hoping to ward off the stress creeping up to you again upon him mentioning it.

“That bad?” Jongho asks as he lets out a short laugh while he furrows his eyebrows, telling you he feels at least a little sorry for you.

“Yeah.” You roll your eyes. “And you? How was your day?”

“Don’t ask,” he answers, and now you’re the one chuckling. “I’ll go wash up real quick, and I think I’ll need some time to decompress afterwards.”

“Sure,” you mutter, before reaching up from where you’ve made yourself comfortable on the edge of the sofa, hand snaking behind his neck so you could pull him in for a quick peck on the lips. 

And so he disappears in the bathroom, you hear him turning on the water and you hear him turning it off again after a while, and with every passing second, the excitement for what’s to come is only growing. Except when he’s done, he simply informs you he’s going to game for a bit, and then he walks into his room. You’re confused to say the least, and a bit disappointed as well. This is not going according to the plan you had in mind, and you wonder if it’s just because he’s had a bad day or if maybe he just isn’t in the mood today. Trying to brush it off, you grab a book you started a while ago, staying out in the living room as you attempt to read a chapter or two, but somehow your mind just won’t let you focus on the story unfolding on the pages in front of you. So eventually you get up, deciding to sneakily follow him instead - you’re not sure why you’re being so secretive all of a sudden.

Your boyfriend is certainly good at reading the room, and it’s helped you leave behind your own awkwardness more than once. So today as well you decide to simply sit at the edge of his bed and watch him play his game, hoping for him to notice something’s off as you’re trying to find the right words to say. And without doubt, he doesn’t disappoint.

“What’s with you?” he asks in between rounds, his voice soft in contrast to the serious stance he tends to take on while playing his games. 

“Just…” you’re not sure how to start, how much to hint at what you want - you sure as hell aren’t thinking of just saying it straightforwardly, now that you’re beginning to feel a bit embarrassed about it.

“Hmm?” He drags out the sound a bit, then the image on his screen changes, and he adds, “Let me finish this and then we can talk?”

“Alright.” You’re suddenly more anxious than you would’ve expected yourself to be as you watch, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt the entire time. The time spent waiting for him to turn his attention to you feels like half an eternity, even though once he’s done you’re sure it can’t have been more than five minutes. He exits the game to the main menu, and as he takes off his headset, he turns to you in his chair.

“What is it?” You see worry on his face, and you immediately feel the need to let him know it’s nothing serious, really.

“Nothing bad!” you say. 

“That’s good,” Jongho answers, relief behind his words.

“Just… didn’t you… notice anything?” You rub your legs together as you avert your gaze from him, but even in the corner of your eye you can tell he’s thinking hard about your question now.

“Notice anything?” he repeats, and then suddenly his eyes narrow, and there’s an amused smile about to creep onto his lips. “Like what?” At this point you’d have sworn you could see the exact moment the dots connected in his head, so his question throws you off a little.

“Like… uhm… I showered earlier.”

“Good,” he chuckles, and you press yourself on to continue.

“And uh…. maybe got off…”

“Oh. That’s nice,” he replies, and once again you’re thrown off, this time by the way the tension in the room drops right away, and he’s now showing you a genuine smile. “Why are you telling me about that though? Want me to come watch next time?” He tries to throw in a joke, but the confusion radiating off you makes him think again, and well, now you’re sure he understands what you’re trying to get at, because he raises up his chin just a little, giving you that look that’s supposed to say “I found you out.”

“Were you maybe thinking I would punish you for that?” he assumes correctly, and you nod, heat rushing to your face now. 

“Yes…” Jongho laughs. It’s more of a giggle, actually, and the amusement in his expression only adds to your confusion. And then he becomes serious, though his features keep their softness.

“Look… I’m sorry to disappoint you but… I’m not going to do anything we haven’t discussed beforehand,” he explains, making sure to be clear about his thoughts. “My first impulse isn’t to punish you for masturbating. But if you want me to, we can talk about it.”

“O-okay,” you stammer, and once again there’s this endearing smile on his face, spreading from ear to ear. You know it’s meant to reassure you, but right now all you can focus on is the embarrassment burning in your chest from making such a severe miscalculation. This isn’t how things go in real life, of course it isn’t. You should know that, and yet-

“Hey,” he calls out to you, hand reaching for yours, giving you a squeeze to tear you out of your thoughts. “Let’s talk about it.” 

He’s also good at that - saying the right thing at the right moment. Or at least he tends to say the things you need to hear in moments like this, and once again you feel unmistakably that you’re safe with him, and that you’re in this together.

“Okay.”

“So…” letting go of your hand, he leans back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, and you feel the dynamic shift ever so slightly as he won’t divert his eyes from you. “What kind of punishment were you thinking of?” You raise your eyebrows, and you begin to ponder on his question, but somehow your head is suddenly empty.

“I… don’t know…” you admit, and he grins at your words again.

“You didn’t think about what you want me to do to you now?”

“I mean… I did… but more… in a general sense,” you stammer.

“Like what?”

“Like… you fucking me…” And there it is again, that laugh that’s really more of a giggle than an actual laugh.

“You didn’t think about what comes before that?”

“Not… really?” you admit, and he clears his throat.

“Then how about I tell you what came to mind for me, and you tell me if that sounds okay to you?” You nod okay, and he continues, “So what I was thinking is that I could restrict you in some way… putting you in handcuffs maybe, or blindfolding you.”

“I don’t think I’m okay with the blindfolding,” you respond. “Handcuffs sounds… nice though.” 

“See? This is just why I didn’t want us to rush into this,” your partner says. “Because if we move too fast, misconceptions about what the other wants, or just about how this whole thing works are bound to go unnoticed.”

“You’re right,” you agree, being able to see where you went wrong with your assumptions clear as day now. “Then… let’s take it slow. Talk before we do stuff.” An awkward laugh escapes you as you’re speaking those words, because after all you were the one trying to rush into this, and now you can’t help but feel thankful that he stopped you just in time.

“So…” Jongho gets up from his chair, walking over to his closet and rummaging through one of the shelves, pulling out a dark red tie. “I think this is gonna look pretty on you. That okay?” You nod, merely watching as he walks over to you, and when he tells you to take off your clothes first of all, you don’t hesitate. Placing yourself on top of the bed, kneeling in the middle of it, he sits in front of you, and you hold out your hands for him to tie them together. “Not too tight?”

“No, it’s fine,” you answer, the soft texture of the fabric feeling quite good around your wrists, actually.

“I don’t have actual handcuffs, unfortunately…” he explains as he checks the knot one more time, and then he lifts one of his hands to run his fingers through your hair, eyeing you thoroughly. There’s a serious expression on his face now, he’s concentrated as he lets his fingertips brush against the side of your throat, but the way he allows for a smirk to creep onto his lips when you instinctively lean your head back to give him access tells you he’s very much having fun with this.

“You really like that, huh?” he mutters, wrapping his hand loosely around your throat, the warmth of his touch alone causing your heart to beat faster.

“Yeah…” you mouth, and to your disdain he moves on. His fingers draw imaginary trails down your body, moving slowly and deliberately, and his eyes follow their every move.

“So beautiful… too bad I’m gonna have to wreck you.” He speaks silently, and whether it’s because of the tone in his voice or his words you don’t know, but it’s giving you shivers all over and you gulp. His hand eventually finds its way to your side, snuggly fitting into the space between your waist and your arm, and he leans in to brush his lips against yours. It’s a short kiss, yet he lingers there for a few seconds before pulling back merely a few inches - the kind of kiss that’s meant to make you want more. “Want me to punish you, hm? Then, what if I push you a bit? Be a little less nice than usual and not give you everything you want right away.” You suck in a sharp breath at his words. “You’d like that?”

“Y-yeah,” you say, tension building up. You’re not sure what exactly he has planned, but you know he wouldn’t push you too far… right? He wraps the fingers of his free hand around your wrists, and as he brings them up above your head he pushes you back into the mattress, carefully, gently. And yet you don’t miss the dangerous glint in his eyes as he’s now gazing down on you, hovering above you as he pins you against the bed. Lowering his head, he makes you mewl as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he scatters a few nips here and there.

“What’s your color, dear?”

“Green… very green,” you sigh, feeling his weight on top of your chest. 

“That’s good,” he speaks quietly as he comes back up, his face now being right in front of you and the tips of your noses touching for one short moment. You think he’s going to kiss you, but then he sits up instead, letting go of you to rid himself of his shirt. With every movement of his you can see the outlines of his muscles working underneath the skin, and the urge to touch him, to run your nails down his chest and his stomach, makes you bring your hands up. For a moment you forget that they’re tied together, and you frown at the restraint, and before you can do anything more, your boyfriend is quick to click his tongue at you as he reaches for your hands and pins them back down above your head.

“Wanna touch me so bad, hm?” he assumes correctly, and then he adds, moving closer to your ear, whispering sharply, “No touching unless I allow it.”

“O-okay,” you mutter. You can unmistakably feel the power he has over you now, both in the way you don’t have the strength to free yourself from his physical restraint, and in the way you feel yourself immediately submitting to his verbal restraint. 

“Stay like this,” he then says and you nod as he sits back up. This time he lets his palms run down your upper body once as he kneels on top of you, going over to dragging his nails down your skin once he reaches your hips and doing the exact thing you would’ve craved to do to him. But you obey, waiting patiently for his next move. “So pretty…” he mutters, his intense gaze burning on your skin, and after having his hands wandering all the way back up, he leans in to leave a trail of kisses down the valley of your breasts. And again there’s this urge to move your hands, to throw your arms around his shoulders as his lips are mapping out your features, but you can’t. You shouldn’t, and so you resist.

He kisses his way down your stomach, biting your flesh here and there without applying too much pressure, and the way he’s taking his time with it doesn’t help your case as you’re having an internal battle against your own impatience. Rubbing your thighs together as he’s hovering just above your core and he’s touching you everywhere but where you need him the most, you reach your breaking point.

“Jongho…” you call out his name. “Please.” He merely chuckles at your plea, not even looking up at you now.

“What?” His voice is low, quiet. Calmness radiates off of him, like he knows that he has all the time in the world for this.

“T-touch me please…” you mewl.

“Hmm,” he makes a noise as he appears to be thinking about your request. “But do you deserve that?” You let out a whine at his question, and you frown when he crawls all the way back up, only to press a teasing kiss to your lips. “Do you deserve my touch when clearly you decided that you can also just do the job yourself?” He moves up further, his lips brushing against your wrists just below where he tied them together, and then against the knuckles on your fingers. “Can’t get yourself off now, can you?” He places his hand over yours, pushing your wrists into the fluffy blanket as if to put an emphasis on his words. 

“Please…” you start another attempt at getting him to do what you want, but he merely sends you a smirk. 

“You’re choosing the shower head over me and now you think I’ll give you what you want so easily? That’s naive.” You frown, and you pout up at him, and for a second his features soften, before he moves his hand from your wrists to your chin, tilting it up slightly. Then he places a kiss onto your jaw, and he asks, “Color?”

“Green…” You idiot - you add in your mind, and when he comes back up to get a good look at your face, you can undeniably see the amusement on his face.

“Didn’t think you’d like being treated like this so much,” Jongho comments, and then he lets his hand wander from your chin down to your lower stomach. “Really makes me want to do this all day.” Fuck. You gulp at his words, thighs pressing together just as he slips a finger in between, dragging it up your folds once, and you don’t expect a singular touch to affect you this much, but you find yourself arching your back as you moan in response anyway.

“Relax,” he says, tapping your thigh once, and you do, spreading your legs apart just a little to give him better access. He doesn’t hesitate to make use of that, watching for even the tiniest of reactions as he gathers your juices on his fingertip, moving it back up and making you whimper as he begins drawing circles onto your clit. You buck your hips into his hand once, causing him to sit up so he could use his other hand to press them back down, immobilizing you. “So needy…” he breathes as he continues on, watching you, and granting you a few teasing touches to your wet pussy. He slips a finger inside, drawing another moan from your lips, and when he adds a second one, pumping them in and out of you at an unhurried pace, you think you could cum on the spot. And he notices the way he’s affecting you, because now he asks you with a cocky smirk on his face that bodes no good whatsoever,

“You like that?” You nod, whimpering, and when he pulls out, the feeling of deprivation that overcomes you makes you whine with anger - though you don’t sound nearly as angry as you would’ve liked. “Too bad.”

“Keep going, please…!” you try to beg, and it seems to strike something deep within him, because now he raises his eyebrows at you, listening intently.

“What was that?”

“K-keep going… please… please…” you add, the desperation in your voice being obvious. “Don’t stop now… w-wanna cum on your fingers…”

“I’m sure you do, dear,” he whispers, leaning in to place a soothing kiss onto your tummy, but it just makes you more furious.

“Please!” you cry out, balancing on the edge between pleasure and frustration, and you know that you wouldn’t want him to push you any further. For a second you wonder whether you should tell him, ask him to go easier on you even though you were the one who wanted him to punish you so badly. But he seems to notice your inner conflict, and his smirk softens into a benevolent smile as he brushes his lips against the inside of your thigh now.

“Is that where the line is?” he asks, and you hesitantly nod. He comes up to comb his fingers through your hair, brushing away a strand that’s sticking to your forehead. “Then let’s not take it any further than this, okay?”

“Yeah.” He cups your face with his hand, thumb brushing against your lips, and he questions,

“What do you want me to do, love?”

“Fuck me… please…” you say with furrowed brows, and he chuckles at the sight in front of him. Caressing your cheek as he slowly takes his hand away in order to rid himself of the remainder of his clothes, he retorts,

“I can’t believe someone could say something so dirty with such an innocent expression on their face.” And now that you’re becoming aware of what you must look like right now, you find it funny too, and you let out a short laugh.

Your boyfriend places himself on top of you, one hand wrapping around his length in order to give himself a few strokes until he’s fully hard, while he has the other placed next to your head to support his weight on top of it. “Wanna hold onto me? Or…” You shake your head. “Want me to pin you down?” Adrenaline rushes through your veins, making you tingle all over from the thought of it, and you nod. Again, he seems amused by your reaction. “After all that you still want me to manhandle you, huh?” Him saying it out loud fills you with bashfulness all of a sudden, and still you feel the need to confirm that he’s right.

“Yes… please,” you mutter. He positions himself in between your legs, aligning himself with your core.

“You good?” he asks, and when you give him the okay he pushes into you. 

“Fuck…” The feeling of having him finally filling you up makes you hiss a curse as you’re throwing your head back from the overwhelming satisfaction. Jongho reaches for your wrists, pinning you down just like you had asked, and he leans in, his nose brushing against the skin right in front of your ear.

“Can you do me a favour, then?”

“Wh-what?” you stutter, impatience building up inside you again.

“I want to hear you beg for me again… can you do that?” You whine as he rolls his hips into yours once, and without hesitation you grant his wish.

“Please… please fuck me…”

“Mhm… that’s right…” he mutters, and from the way his voice changes as he begins slowly thrusting into you, you can tell he too has been exerting himself holding back from touching you properly more than you thought. 

“Please… feels so good… b-baby please…” you keep going, your moans turning into mere whimpers when he reaches down between your bodies in order to tend to your clit. “F-fuck… w-wanna cum on your cock… wanna cum so bad…!” you whine, racing towards your high at lightning speed. 

“Shit, you’re perfect,” he utters, his hips beginning to stutter, and the groans falling from his lips becoming more frequent. “So fucking perfect.”

You cry out when your high comes crashing down on you, hands formed into fists and your nails digging into your palms. Once again you try to instinctively throw your arms around your boyfriend’s shoulders, and when you meet resistance as he’s still pinning you against the bed, your mind is flooded with that much more pleasure. He cums with a broken moan as you’re beginning to come down from your high, whining from the overstimulation as you let him thrust into you a few more times, and then he collapses on top of you.

Both panting, he lets go of your wrists and you immediately bring your arms up to put them around his frame, and this time he lets you. Eventually, after catching his breath, he rolls over onto his back, sitting up and undoing your restraints.

“You feeling okay?” You nod at his question, your eyelids too heavy to open, but you smile at him.

“More than,” you mutter, and when he lies back down beside you, you snuggle up close to him. Reaching for your hands, he holds onto one of them, thumb rubbing circles against your wrist, and when you look up you find worry in his eyes. “I really am okay, baby,” you whisper one more time, and he instinctively brings your hand that he’s holding onto in closer to his chest.

“Okay…” he just says, trusting your words, and you send him a sweet smile. Freeing your hand from his grasp, you bring it up to his head, fingers combing through his hair.

“Thank you…” you say, slurring your words a bit as the blissful afterglow of your high lingers in your mind. Your boyfriend lets out a sigh, eyelids fluttering shut at the sensation of you massaging his scalp. “For being careful. And for taking care of me so well.” And now there’s this smile creeping onto his lips. It’s barely noticeable, and yet you can tell how your words are affecting him. And in the next second he throws his arm around you, catching you by surprise as he pulls you on top of himself and engulfs you in a tight hug. He says nothing, you know that sometimes it’s hard for him to speak his mind in moments like these, but by now you know him well enough to know what he’s trying to convey with his actions. You giggle at the way he presses a kiss to the side of your face before having you rest your head atop his chest, loosening his embrace a bit to allow you to lie down comfortably. You too snake one arm around his waist, and with your heart swelling with your love for him that seems to know no end, you bury your smile in the crook of his neck.

[aeoncss]

…some of my personal movie!mike schmidt hcs <3

disclaimer: you dont have to agree, just don’t be an ass. thanks!

tw: parent/sibling death, mentions of insecurity, nightmares, trauma flashbacks, some nsfw (18+!), could be ooc?? idk?? don’t quote me on it

he’s a soft snorer. like the faintest sound comes through at night, and it’s usually when he’s laying on his back. when he’s sick, however, he snores so loud that abby has definitely thrown something at him to be quiet.

used to smoke cigarettes quite heavily. started in high school, then it turned into muscle memory that escalated into a harsh nicotine addiction. the second abby complained about the smell, mike stopped cold turkey, and hasn’t picked up a pack since.

does, occasionally, smoke weed though. usually in his car or in his garage late at night. spends extra time cleaning around and getting the smell out, including doing an extra load of laundry so his clothes don’t reek. it helps him sleep, although doesn’t do much for the nightmares.

mike has one of those huge CD books shoved underneath his passenger seat (it won’t fit in the glove box). it’s filled with many broken disks that are heavily scratched from use, and a lot of them belonged to his father.

he’s so bad at folding. so bad. he either hangs it up super sloppily or straight up just throws his clothes into his closet.

he prefers dogs over cats — although he takes the time to feed one of the neighborhood stray cats that abby has named ‘mr. whiskers’ because that’s gonna become his pet goddamn it

listens to a lot of korn, foo fighters, deftones, and the offspring. mike kinda refuses to play that kind of music in the car with abby around, so he might have grown to subconsciously love spice girls and a*teens as well…

grows insecure when he finds himself in a relationship, feeling like he equally can’t be enough or that he’s doing too much. mike has such a fear of pushing away good things from him, so it takes a lot of reassurance for him to finally understand that he isn’t doing anything wrong.

falls asleep during horror and romance movies. physically just can’t do it.

he can’t ever listen to the romantics ever again. if he hears even a snippet of ‘talking in your sleep’, his body straight up shuts down and mike goes into automatic panic mode.

service switch — really, he just wants to please his partner in any way. he doesn’t have a preference for anything sexually related, but he definitely gets a kick out of how good he can make his lover feel. he might have studied one too many playboys.

he doesn’t really realize how much he craves affection until after he gets into a relationship. whenever his partner leaves for the night, he feels like a piece of him is somehow lost, and he nonstop thinks about how nice it was to just be in their arms — even if it was just for a short moment.

besides the reoccurring nightmare of garrett, mike developed a new one after the events at the pizzeria. he can’t save abby in time, the sound of spring locks echoing deep inside his brain that he wakes up so physically ill. he has to go check in on her to get himself to calm down.

has a few really shitty stick n’ poke tattoos that one of his old high school buddies did while drunk together. he has a little stick figure on the inside of his left wrist, and a horribly disproportionate star on his right.

he’s a moaner. not a loud one, but there has been times where he’s either had to cover up his mouth by a pillow or even by his partners hand. it’s not overtly obnoxious or dramatic, more hushed pants and quick whimpers that escape deep from his throat. when he’s close, that’s when he gets a bit louder, the sound almost guttural.

he really gets a kick out of seeing his partner in his clothes or just doing something in his house. sitting on the couch just TV surfing? he’s hiding behind the doorway to the kitchen just so he can try and get his hard-on to go away.

mike was the type of kid in high school that genuinely did try to pass with good grades, but he just barely managed to scrape by without getting held back from graduation. it’s a regret of his, but understands what was going on during that time.

nicknamed his honda accord ‘marvin’.

really into making out, sometimes preferring it over sex. he likes the closeness and just enjoys the action of kissing — plus, it’s really nice foreplay.

[forever--darling]

the spoken code

summary: it's been six months within the temple & suddenly, you can't shake that this connection with anakin skywalker seems out of the ordinary, even among jedi, enough so you are prompted with a sign from the force itself, only eliciting more confusion & concerns.

pairings: anakin skywalker x jedi!reader

word count: 14.0k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone wars, mention of reader's past life, swearing, fluff, soulmate au, teasingaotc!anakin, lots of plot development for these two, pre-angst

series masterlist | 03

Darkness, something you had become quite accustomed to for months. It was waning, though, you knew it; the comfort, the desire to lean into it until it swallowed you whole. It was dissipating day by day, being replaced by something else entirely, by someone else entirely. Yet, you still couldn’t understand it. This hold, this plan, the force had written out for the two of you. 

The more you searched, meditated, and felt inclined to ask Master Obi-Wan, the more the answers seemed further and further from clear. What did they want from you? What did the higher powers of the world want? Why did you suddenly seem so important within the plays of humanity? You couldn’t know. 

A light appeared, pulling you from your thoughts, seeming to be as loud as your lingering footsteps among the dark tiles. Near the end of the hallway, it glowed brightly, a soft blue, enticing you to move closer and closer. 

“Hello?” you called out, your voice a mere echo among the long black walls and black floors. All that was in response to the wallowing silence was but the sound of a faint step off into the distance. One and then perhaps two. 

That quietness loomed, and your chest tightened, confusion the only feeling you could grasp as you continued forward. Reaching for your belt, you found the spot empty where your lightsaber usually sat. As you peered down, you realized then, in the dim light alone, you weren’t in your robes either. The familiar tunic and pants are somehow gone. Replaced by a long white skirt that brushed softly along your bare ankles, paired with a tight long sleeve just as white. It was small along your wrists but comfortable, forming around you as a second skin. 

Another faint step could be heard just off to your left. You turned quickly but were only met with the pitch black. Your pulse spiked. “Who’s there?”

Once again, the silence was the only response. Sighing heavily, you turned back to the bright light that remained floating within midair, dauntingly so, as if daring you to step forward. With no other sign in sight, that was exactly what you did. You walked forward, carefully until you were face to face with the bright light. With furrowed brows and eyes reflected by the strange orb, some feeling suddenly washed over. A need to stretch out your arm, to brush your fingers among it. A certain impulse that only grew. 

With no Master to advise you over your shoulder or the tall chosen one to talk it over with, you couldn’t help but reach forward, fingers outstretched. With the smallest brush, a warmth appeared first in your fingertips and then among the empty space in your chest. 

It took a second, no more, before the ball of light disappeared, erupting more so and soaking upon the walls before you. Your whole sight was washed over with brightness, and you couldn’t help but shield them, a wince falling from your lips. 

A moment passed, and you felt almost afraid to drop your face from your elbow until you heard the lightest laugh. One far too familiar that it had caused your chest to tighten and almost skip. As you dropped your arm to your side, you gasped in surprise. Surprised to find the darkness completely gone but bathed in so much sunlight, all of which washed over cream and beige-colored pillars that towered above you, tangled among the thickest branches and veins stringed with white flowers. 

“Grandmother,” the young voice laughed again, it filled with so much life. You had almost forgotten it once sounded like that. 

You turned, and your eyes widened slightly at the sight before you. There within the arbor sat a small girl no older than eight, wearing a white long skirt and a long sleeve that matched your own. Her hair was long and pulled back out of her face in a low knot, small gold butterfly clips laced within the strands of hair. Her face was bare of any invisible scars, evidence of misfortunes. She was pure. 

“What?” The older female voice came from the adult sitting close to the child, legs outstretched, long greying curls bouncing along her shoulders, “Y/N, my darling, are you saying you don’t believe me, the former queen?”

Grandmother. 

The eight-year-old version of yourself giggled again, shaking your head with the uttermost oblivion, “No, it can’t be true. They couldn’t fly, at least not way up there.” 

Your heart ached at the sight then, at the mere innocence that once reflected your skin in such oblivious happiness. Your Grandmother chuckled, that warm comforting sound you had forgotten about not long after she passed when you were no more than fifteen. A soft smile formed across her aging face, so much peace there and then as the sounds of Bakura echoed around the arbor. 

“Shall I tell you another story then?” the former queen asked, only to have the young girl nod eagerly. “Alright, let me think for a moment?” 

“Nona,” you interrupted, small eyes peering up through the arbor as if looking for what could only be invisible during that time of day, “The stars.” 

“Which stars?” 

“You know which one’s.” 

The older woman chuckled, acting as if she didn’t for a mere moment only to cave at the sight of the small frown that filtered over the young princess’s lips. She, of course, knew which ones because they were the same stars who lined the window of your chambers every night. It didn’t matter how much the earth spun or the seasons changed; it remained in the same spot, unmoving, unaligned amongst the rest that moved with life. “Oh, you mean the Stars of L’âme?” 

The Soul Stars. 

The young princess nodded, her little head already filling with so many questions. You knew because it was the same expression you still got — furrowed brows and bottom lip tucked with ease between your teeth as you thought long and hard. 

“My darling princess, I have told you that story many times before. You know how they came to be.” 

“Yes, through a collision of energies in the form of pressure and heat.” 

The former queen hummed in agreement, smile widening at the great memory her granddaughter proved to have, “And what makes them so special?” 

“They formed outside of the stellar nurseries, but I just don’t understand it.” 

“Understand what, my darling?” 

That confused look only deepened, and you remembered fondly how the story you had forgotten until now went, the mysteries never quite aligning with reason. “How is it even possible?” 

“Sometimes, even when things are possible, it doesn’t mean we are deemed worthy of knowing. Sometimes it is better for us not to know. Remember, what I told you about these stars. Though they formed outside of the stellar nurseries, they formed for a reason. A reason that only occurs every hundred years. Can you remember?” 

Your heart skipped then at the thought, the memory forming behind your fuzzy mind that you hadn’t thought back to for years. The younger version of yourself smiled warmly at the thought, “Yes, every hundred years, two souls are chosen by whom we don’t know. When they are born, they seem connected just as the two stars in the sky.” 

“Two lost souls,” your grandmother corrected, “That is something to remember most of all. This act is never random. This choice by the greater powers of our worlds. It is never a mere act of happening but by some sort of fate itself.” 

The young princess slumped for a moment, the story, the long winding details becoming a lot for her to handle. Even the version of yourself standing off to the side of the arbor found it difficult to understand then in your adulthood. It felt as if you were hearing it all over again for the first time, and as if the force, the stars themselves, wanted to relay a message, you reached up to lay your hand over your chest. 

You hesitated, unaware of what it all meant, and your stomach twisted in nervousness. 

“Nona?” 

“Yes?” the former queen chuckled again as the questions never seemed to cease with the little one who found her head always up in the clouds, believing in the untouchable of everything she couldn’t see but feel. 

“Why have the stars never aligned? The two never seem to find each other.”

Your grandmother’s smile remained stoic, but the lines around her eyes deepened. So much so that you found yourself pushing away from the wall of the arbor just to get a better view of it. Just as she went to open her mouth, sure to answer the young princess’s every question asked, another voice boomed from just off the steps of the arbor. “Mother.” 

A figure emerged, and you felt your breath fall short upon your tongue, unsure of how to even react as the looming frame of the current queen and your mother stepped within the arbor, eyes narrowed down at the sight of you cross-legged in front of the older woman. 

“Mom,” the young girl sighed, slightly disappointed that she had interrupted her grandmother’s answer. 

Your feet suddenly stopped, and you felt stuck in the ground, peering over at the beauty that had been your mother. The queen of Bakura, the love of your father’s life. The very person he left the Jedi order to be with. The only woman to have ever held a light to his heart other than you. She appeared so young, only ten or so years older than you were now. In all the time without her, the days passing into nights, her face had blurred, the image of her having become so unclear over the years.

Pictures were limited, and suddenly graced with her presence after so long, you couldn’t help but finally accept that your father had perhaps been right when he constantly told you how much you reminded him of her. You were almost her spitting image, and suddenly that ache returned, fully, and you had to grasp even tighter to your chest, just wishing she would turn — would see you, look you in the eyes after so long. 

“Y/N, go on, your father wishes to see you?” the cold tone brought you by surprise as this was something you couldn’t remember. This side of her. 

“But—” 

“Go,” the queen sighed, rubbing her temple. 

The young princess shared a last longing gaze with her grandmother before running off. As soon as she was gone, your mother turned to her own as the former older queen stood from where she had been sitting on an orange-knit blanket. With her arms crossed over her chest and feet tapping impatiently along the wood of the arbor, you couldn’t help but step even closer, unsure if this part was a dream or rather something else, you somehow were being granted to see. 

“Why do you have to go and tell her those stories?” 

Your grandmother sighed, a look of disappointment appearing, “Stories? Is that what you see them as now?” 

“That is what they are,” your mother argued. 

The former queen tutted softly, frown deepening at the thought, “Does the king think so too? Your husband?” 

“Don’t bring him into this.” 

Your ears perked up at the mention of your father, him still so apparent and so clear to you that the mention of him hurt. Your mother’s eyes darkened while your grandmother only appeared so solemn at the sight of her own daughter’s frustrations. “How can I not? He felt it from the day that she was born.” 

“Mother…” 

“He is a Jedi, so don’t you dare diminish it. There is something entirely wonderful here, and you are so worried about hiding it.” 

With parted lips, your eyes deepened, a weird feeling washing over you. You tried to lean into it, the force, your senses, but it seemed they had no ability here. Not on these two people who no longer were alive to think these current thoughts or recant them. Instead, you could only stand there and listen, feeling as if the world was ending with each and everything they said that seemed to dance around the conflict at hand. 

Your mother sighed, that anger fading into nothing but almost sadness, in despair, “We don’t know what or if there is anything here, and I’m not going to put outlandish thoughts inside my child’s head.” 

“So you are never going to tell her?” Nona asked, that shame in her daughter apparent more than ever. 

Your mother didn't seem affected by it, not one bit, as she shook her head, glare still settled across her beautiful face, “There is nothing to tell.” 

The coldness raked a shiver across your form, and as you reached out to touch her, your mother, the person you had trusted most in all your life, you felt the scenery fade, almost melting. You were ripped away by a force you couldn’t recognize, something heavy. A small yell fell from your parted lips as your stomach sank and your head spun with uncertainty. Before you realized it, you were bolting up, a heavy breath falling from your parted lips in surprise. 

It took a matter of seconds to recognize where you were. The room was dark besides the light of the moons sneaking in through the windows kept untouched by the curtains. The sheet and blankets pooled around your frame near your waist as you were raked with unsteady breaths. Sweat gathered along your brow, and your throat was tight, and it suddenly seemed the weight of the world was falling upon you. So much uncertainty and confusion at the dream that pierced you. The images so clear so vivid, of Bakura, Nona, your mother — the memory that had to have been real as you stared back almost in a mirror of the past at a young princess completely blind to the future before her. 

Wiping the sweat from your hairline, you pushed back your long hair from your face and eased your breathing down to a simple inhale and exhale. Silence once again encompassed the air around you, and you felt it all slowly start to swarm your mind, almost like a carousel sure to never stop its incessant turning. You knew the noises within your mind wouldn’t stop then, at least not for the rest of the night, so you pushed the blankets even further from your frame and stood from the bed. 

Finding a robe to pull over your night-slip, you left your chambers, the door closing behind you with a gentle hiss. The temple was quiet and dark, night still gracing the city in peace. The floor was cold against your feet, but you didn’t care to go back and find shoes, not when it was somehow welcoming to the immense heat you had felt when you woke up. That discomfort still lingered as you walked the empty halls, unsure of what or where to go. 

Far from your chambers, near the other end of the temple, you stumbled along a corridor that wasn’t familiar and often went unnoticed by many of the Jedi within the temple as it was much narrower than the others, void of many rooms within it. Feeling like you were called to go down it, you walked steadily until you came upon a windowsill sitting right next to a large window, expanding most of the opposing wall. Peering outside, a small sense of relief almost appeared at the sight of the city before you bathed by the dark sky decorated with far too many stars. The sky has always been able to bring comfort ever since you were a child. 

It seemed that could have very well been because of Nona and her stories — the ones that surrounded the stars, the planets, the unseen forces you couldn’t begin to understand how she knew about. Sitting upon the windowsill, legs outstretched and robes spilling over the edges, you stared up while the visions from the night reappeared; reminding you just how much you yourself couldn’t get what any of it meant. 

There was something strange that had happened that night. You didn’t want to admit it — not even as you had felt it as the weight of your body sunk deeply into the mattress of your bed. Your breathing had shallowed out quickly, not having known when the stars and the sky of Cruscant had faded into darkness. Into the most comfortable of darknesses soon to only be replaced. Replaced far quickly. Quicker than it ever had before, as if the universe was nullifying all the former pain that had been written in deep pen across your soul. 

Peering up, you found the stars, the two that seemed to never escape you — both so bright, a strange tint of light blue, and just as you had imagined them to be, they were unaligned. The upper one slightly shifted towards the left, while the lower one favored the right. You knew then it appeared just the same as always. 

What are you trying to tell me? 

It was a silent ask, one that weighed quite heavy, so much so you hadn’t felt it. 

That familiarity that seemed to follow you around wherever you went. Instead, he was given away by his footsteps, his shoes appearing much louder than your bare feet had been. Your fingers shifted upon your knees without even realizing, the air warming around them as the voice filled your ears. 

“Hey,” it was gentle, soft, as if trying not to startle you. 

At the immediate familiarity, a small huff escaped your lips, eyes closing for a mere moment at the awful timing. Then as your attention returned to your surroundings, the energy of him became just as apparent as it always had been. Sighing, you opened your eyes again and turned to look within the small corridor. He was leaning against the windowsill near your feet, having come from around the corner without you even noticing. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, just as softly back, as you took in his frame, unaware you even had been doing it. 

His hair was slightly mousled from sleep, the skin around his eyes red as if he had been rubbing them. Long loose pants covered his lower half while a robe was tied quickly around his waist, but not tight enough as you were able to see the bare skin of his chest peeking through. You tried to ignore the sudden stir you felt just at the mere sight alone, hoping more than anything he couldn’t sense every single thought running through your mind. 

Stepping closer, the light from the moon washed over him incandescently, and you scolded yourself internally for having even noticed. Especially now that most, if not all, the frustrations towards him had faded, forming into something else entirely. 

He ignored your question, instead taking in your bare feet, which led to bar legs sticking out from your robe, that familiar quirk forming along his lips, “Can I sit?” 

A second of hesitation, and then you were nodding, pulling your legs up closer to your chest to give him some room. He slid up across from you, his back resting against the opposite wall, his legs following. You tried not to stare so much as he got comfortable, but you felt your throat tighten slightly as his legs widened, leaving room for your own. The windowsill wasn’t long enough, leaving the outside of your legs to press along the inside of his — your bare skin able to feel the soft material of his pants and the warmth admitting from within them.

Stare sliding up his frame quicker than you would have liked, you found him already staring over at you intently, too much so that you began to fiddle with your fingers, almost willing to start picking at them but knowing better. You didn’t want him to see how nervous you truly were, whether it was because of your dream or him, though you weren’t really sure which was at the forefront of your mind. 

His knee bumped yours enough to keep your eyes on his, and you felt your confines weakening slightly, even if that meant him getting to see just what you were feeling at that moment. 

“You never answered my question,” you opposed, not willing to back down then wishing to see the way his expressions shifted, “What are you doing here?”

He smirked, almost like it was inevitable to tease you at least a little bit when that furrow appeared between your brows, “You’ve been thinking awfully hard for how late it is. Though I’m not sure what about. All I know is, it was hard not to feel how upset you were from only a few halls away.” 

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, unable to hold it back, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” 

He laughed, unable to hold back at how cute you sounded swearing like that, and as he did, his knee bumped yours again. “No. I was already awake.”

That furrow deepend then, frowning at the mere possibility of him being unable to sleep as well. Able to read your features clearly, he sighed as if hesitant to admit it to you, though he knew the only way for the trust between you to strengthen was to be honest. You didn’t know him, not much past the sly smiles, the wit he was told by your dear master to keep to a minimum and the brief moments of softness he had displayed to you. Other than that, there wasn’t much else.

You two knew more about each other’s body language, the way their pulse quickened, or the feelingsound in the other’s head more so than the past, or much else. It hadn’t had the means to be brought up, not until then. 

“I don’t sleep well anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked carefully, slightly shocked as it seemed you had been so consumed in your own sleeping habits lately that you hadn’t been able to feel through your senses that he had been struggling too,

“My mother,” he explained softly, knowing now he would have to explain it all to you, “It was a vision or a dream, perhaps, I’m not really fucking sure. But somehow, she was in my arms, and she was dying.” 

“Anakin,” you gasped, “How long ago was this?” 

He shrugged, “A week or so ago. They’ve only become more frequent since then. These dreams of my mother.” 

Your face softened, eyes widening slightly. His stare never wavered from your own as he reveled in your reactions. He had been holding it in for so long, silently dealing with this pain, this fear. You had only agreed to stay a month or so ago, and he didn’t want to do something that might weaken this sudden bond you two had seemed to have. 

“Where is she now?” you couldn’t help but ask. 

“Tatooine.” 

Your brows lifted then at the name of the planet, one of many you had studied immensely in your time of preparing to be queen. It required a lot from you, having to understand the political issues that overtook them all, their forms of government, and the allies and enemies of each. Upon hearing that name, you couldn’t have even imagined that Anakin had possibly been from Tatooine. 

“Tatooine, so she’s…” 

He nodded, “A slave? Yes. I was too. And then, when I was nine, I met Qui-Gon, and we struck up a deal. If I won the Boonta Eve Podrace, and he betted on me, he would have enough money to buy my freedom.” 

“And you won?” you smiled softly, unable not to as this was the first time you were hearing about his childhood. A childhood that wasn’t perfect, was different than your own, but was him. It was something you had found yourself wondering about for months now; where was he from, what were his parents like, what kind of kid was he? All of these questions, you felt too afraid to ever ask — worried what the answers would be.

“And I won. Then he brought me here to train under Obi-Wan. It’s been ten years, and I’ve thought about her every day since I left. I promised I would go back for her, but…”

“The code,” you finished for him, cringing slightly at the thought. 

Relationships and attachments were forbidden, even among parents and children.

“I would. I want to more than anything. I just haven’t had the opportunity. I know how fucking awful that sounds. It truly is—” 

“Stop. It’s not. I get it,” you said cutting him off while also reaching forward without even realizing to place your hand on his knee. It was warm and reminded you so much of the day that he had taken your hand in his, the day he had convinced you to stay. The day he silently promised you he could be the one person to trust. 

He traced the small touch with his blue orbs, one of the first touches you had ever initiated on your own. You bowed your head slightly, a flush appearing along your cheeks, suddenly second-guessing how natural it had all felt. Feeling inclined to retract your hand, a small smile appeared along his lips, one that was different than you had ever seen before. It was a look you wished to see for as long as possible, so you decided against pulling away. 

“One day, you will rescue her. Promises aren’t taken lightly when it’s a Jedi making them. You meant your word, and I know at the first possible chance you will do as you say.” 

He nodded, a calmness now falling over him he hadn’t been able to grasp since he had woken up in a cold sweat, panic seeping throughout his body, eyes unable to look or find anything to hold his attention long enough to forget about the crumpled form of his mother. Not until suddenly, you were sitting in front of him, touching him the way you were while saying all the things he needed so desperately to hear. He couldn’t help but react by covering your hand with his own, the warmth encapsulating the coldness of yours in a gentle squeeze. 

“And what about you?” he asked, drawing your stare away from your joined hands. 

“W-What about me?” you stuttered lightly, hating how something as simple as his hand could pull such a reaction out of you. 

“Why are you awake? What has gotten you so worked up that I felt I had to come find you?”

Though he wasn’t wrong, you hated that he put it that way. As if he needed to come in and save you at every chance he got — all to silence the many demons that filtered in throughout your head. You didn’t like the thought, the idea of depending on him so much, that he could feel exactly what you were feeling. How much further would it go? 

None of this made sense. The force didn’t make sense. Anakin didn’t make sense. The way he cared about you was too much, and sometimes you wished more than anything you could sever this connection with the hope that he didn’t have to feel so obligated to protect you all the time. That night and that dream only made it all worse. 

If it were true, you didn’t know what you were going to do.

“Y/N?” Anakin asked, his thumb beginning to rub gentle circles on the back of your palm and you hated how your pulse began to speed up at the small action. He could sense your apprehension paired with the look in your eyes, the fear of saying anything at all. 

“I—uh— don’t even know how to make sense of what tonight was.” 

“Just try.” 

You inhaled, that furrow returning between your brows and a hand running through your hair, unsure of how much you could even say. What did you even know? “I thought it was a dream, but now I think it might have been a memory maybe — something I haven’t thought of in years.” 

“Okay…” he replied carefully, trying to communicate in every way that he was fully listening to whatever you had to say. 

“I was somehow in Bakura within the backyard of the capital in our arbor. It was green and full of life and so, so beautiful. And Nona, my grandmother was there telling her stories, some that I always told myself to not believe. I was eight, sitting there just listening to every single thing she said. I forgot how young I used to be and so happy. I had never seen myself like that, and it was the strangest thing,” you laughed sadly, eyes glassing over slightly as the images of that night seemed to resurface, appearing just as they had been in the moment, “It was like I was even there, Anakin but almost a ghost, watching it all.”

Anakin, with his hand still wrapped around yours, was leaning forward, eyes never wavering as he listened and tried to make sense of it. His brows knit together as he tried to make sense of you. As you met his eyes then, you felt your breath almost fall short at how intently he was staring.

Inhaling, that smile dropped slightly, “Nona was telling me some story about the stars. The Soul Stars, she called them. This one always felt different from all of the rest, as if everything she said was true. I was asking her a question about them, but then my mother appeared, and she sent me away to find my father. That was the last thing I could remember and where the memory should have ended, with me running off towards the capital, but it didn’t. Instead, I found myself watching them, the way they argued, about me, about something they were keeping from me. So, I don’t know if this was merely a dream or…” 

“Or something else. Something the force could be trying to tell you,” Anakin finished your unspoken thought, your two expressions appearing so similar as you tried to realize what exactly could be occurring, between his dream and your own. 

“It sounds crazy, I know, but it felt so real and so familiar. If I had known sooner, years ago, maybe I could have set this all straight, but my mother died not long after that, and now I can’t help but wonder. Wonder if she was hiding something? If m—my father knew.” 

“It’s not crazy,” he said, hand loosening around yours, just enough for his fingers to intertwine with yours. He pulled on them gently. “Not at all.” 

“How could any of this be possible?”

“Sometimes it just is. There’s no explanation, no possible reasoning. Impossibilities are possible until proven otherwise. Master used to always tell me that when I first became his Padawan. Being a Jedi, the ability to move things with your mind, know what others are feeling, thinking — none of it should be possible, and yet it is our reality.”

You hummed, peering out of the window once more at the pair of stars. Could it really be? Two souls connected so immensely. But what did that mean? Connected. What did any of it mean? 

It was as if he could hear your thoughts then, and maybe he had because he was whispering your name so softly while pulling on your fingers again to draw your attention. Eyes finding his again, you melted slightly at the sight. The way his brows were raised, a look that was so warm reflecting off his face, and a slight lift of his lips. 

“I feel like there could be something wrong with me,” you admitted, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep, felt throughout your own chest as if it had been you who was the one who made the noise and not him. 

That warm expression seemed to only deepen, forming into the most beautiful smile while he reached forward, his fist bumping lightly along your chin. You tried to ignore the way it lingered there for a second longer. “There is nothing wrong with you. That’s a ridiculous thing to say.” 

“But—” 

“But what?” 

Holding back, you bit onto your lower lip, unable to say anything more. Because what else was there to say? What else, when you didn’t know everything there was to know? Other than the strange feeling you got within the middle of your chest and at the bottom of your stomach whenever he was around somehow dimming all the anger you once had to almost nothing. 

“Y/N, you’re doing well. So well.” 

“Anakin…” you trailed off, but he only silenced you with a narrowed look and another squeeze of your cold palm. 

“Don’t try to diminish anything that I’m saying. You’re too hard on yourself.” 

“Perhaps I’m just cautious. Waiting for something to happen or waiting around for the day that I finally fuck up, and become someone worth being disappointed in,” you explained, suddenly unable to withhold his touch, the way it could have muted every fear to ever appear within your mind — you felt unworthy of him, of his kindness then, enough so you pulled your hand away instead to pick at the skin around your nails. 

He watched this, his stomach twisting with discomfort at your need to retreat, at your need to cause your fingers to bleed. “I wish you didn’t think that way.” 

“Well, I’m afraid, Anakin. I don’t know how else to think of it. There is no other way to. I’m afraid of what I might do.” 

You were staring down at your fingers, unable to look up at him, too nervous to, and in doing so, you focused on the loose skin around your nailbeds. Silence hung in the air as you pulled at the skin, enough for it to tear and start bleeding from how deep you truly had dug with your fingernail. 

“Stop that!” he scolded, voice thick, deeper than you had ever heard it as he reached forward, yanking your hand away but back within his own. He stared at the blood, the way it flowed, sure to drip off your finger at any moment. “There is no need to be afraid. I will protect you. Since the first day I met you, I’ve known. Known that I could and always will protect you.” 

The question was slipping from your parted lips as if he was pulling them from you. “Could you protect me even from myself?”

A moment, this prolonged pause of time stilled by the mere sound of his soft breath and the knitting of his brows. There was a small frown evident upon his pink lips, as if he was truly able to feel every insecurity, every ounce of fear that could be felt from your end; every inclination of uncertainty that flooded your body, your sole being. He could feel it all, and within that pause, those few seconds, his hand once again tight around yours he was filled with the most conviction you had ever seen

“I know it doesn’t seem like it all of the time, but I would do anything to keep you safe.”

How in a matter of months had it come to this? You weren’t sure. To see through your eyes what the two of you were, none of it could have been true, cruel intentions masked by the simplest affections. That’s what it had become. A lie behind your visions, distracted by his handsomeness and the mere enticingness that came from his smirk or the color of his eyes when they found yours from across the room. It could have not been real. That idea can’t be the most plausible but a figment of what you wish could be. 

A Jedi shall not know anger. 

Nor hatred. 

Nor love. 

You had experienced two in the span of a few weeks within your training, and now you couldn’t help but worry you would fall victim to the last as well. The last of the forbidden causes that came with being a Jedi. You couldn’t. Not when you had come as far as you did; in your training, in your ability to trust, in the ways of simple living that came with being one with the force. There wasn’t room for any more. There wasn’t room for Anakin Skywalker, and yet he was always there. Almost like a lightsaber to your hip, a protector as he claimed to be, but also the young man who would find ways to scare you, making you jump as he snuck up behind you. He also was the man who would tease you any chance he could as if the sight of you rolling your eyes or your brows furrowing was the only sight he wished to ever see. 

He wasn’t insufferable as you once had deemed him to be and never cruel but thought of himself highly enough to still throw half-witted comments towards you anytime you were training even with Master present, more so if he was present. You thought he had been everywhere before, able to feel him all of the time, but that was minuscule compared to now, compared to how this connection had forged the two of you into the ability to feel so close it was as if you were sleeping next to one another. Sometimes, you swore you could hear his heart beating or the gentle lull of his breath, on rare occasions, he could actually sleep throughout the night. It was only on those few nights when he wasn’t with you. 

It had become a habit, you had found, to be seated within the small corridor of the temple, sitting upon that damn windowsill, legs always pressed against one another. You had found you didn’t sleep well anymore either. It wasn’t even that you were having more visions, memories, or dreams but that you were kept up late at night by just the single mysteries of the one and how it seemed to coincide so much with how you felt about the young Skywalker. 

A Jedi shall not know love. 

And yet you found him to be breaking through every single resolve and healing the deepest parts of sadness you hadn’t even known were there. He made you happy, and that was the greatest weakness to have, even if it had made you a better Padawan, even as it had made you a strong Jedi. 

It was so much easier when you were angry, you realized. When he had you burning from the inside out and willing to hit him with training sticks because it meant you didn’t know this. This feeling. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

The voice was gentle but firm as his frame leaned over your back where you were sitting, lips close to the shell of your ear. He was far louder than he should be for the library. Leaning forward over your shoulder, his hand found the table while his waist pressed up against your back. Your breath stilled for a moment, the words in the book almost blurry to the point of no longer being able to read them. 

It seemed he had found you, hiding away within the shelves of the library in the Jedi Temple. You were sat at a small table, a few books sprawled out, trying to make use of the minimal spare time you had before your next training session with master. With trials at the end of the year, there was almost no time in the evenings outside of meditation, or practices to really study the code or material. At least that’s what you had told yourself until he had appeared feeling so warm as he loomed over your frame. 

You didn’t dare move but instead kept your position of sitting straight within the chair, eyes cast down at the book before you on balance and the molecular configurations of the force. It was difficult, though, as his hand and his eyes could be seen from your peripheral. 

“Hello, Anakin,” you replied, a voice at a lower level, aware of the many other Padawans and Jedis that crowded other tables outside of between those two shelves. 

He huffed, aware of your ignorance towards his previous statement, and instead leaned over further to get a look at the book that was open on the table. He let out the same noise when he realized what you were reading while his chest somehow was now brushed up against your neck and temple. You leaned away slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne that stuck to his tunics. 

“What are you doing in here?” he grumbled as he pulled back from you and instead took a seat in the chair next to yours, but not without scooting closer to your side enough that his knee bumped yours every time his leg moved. 

With his chair angled towards you, his elbow pressed up along the tabletop, you couldn’t help but peer over at him innocently, already making a note of the frustrations that filtered along his face as he leaned against his closed fist. He was already staring at you, and it made you raise a brow in interest. 

“It’s the library.”

“Yes, I know that but we have like thirty minutes until our next training session with Master.” 

“Which is why I am studying,” you said matter of factly. 

“Y/N,” he whined then, louder this time, making you glance around the two of you suddenly embarrassed. 

“Anakin, the trials are at the end of the year and I am behind.” 

“You’re not that behind.” 

You sent him a stern look, “You have been training to be a Jedi since you were nine, you know everything there is to know for the trials. I have at most a year to learn what you have gotten to learn in the last ten.” 

“You know there is no fucking set timeline on when you need to become a Jedi, right? They hold trials every year. You don’t have to take them this year, which I am sure none of the council really would be expecting you to.” 

Your throat tightened at the mere thought of being a Padawan without him, “I know that, but if I could take them this year, I would like to.” 

He watched you intently the seriousness to which you said it, but as he sat there thinking, looking at you, he couldn’t help the thought that appeared. Or how it led to that smirk of his forming and that deadly glint that seemed to fill his eyes too often. “Oh, I see what’s going on here.” 

“What?” you sighed, knowing even if you didn’t wish to entertain his advances, he would send them your way anyway. 

“You’re worried about still being a Padawan when I pass the trials. Because then I could someday have the ability to be wise enough and be granted by the council to become a Master myself. Which means on instances where Master Obi-Wan won’t be able to meet you for lessons or training, he might ask me to fill in,” he teased, unable to hold back the steady chuckle from his chest at the mere thought or the look on your face that could only resemble both embarrassment and slight frustrations. 

“Anakin.” 

“It would be quite a sight, wouldn’t it. Me, Master Skywalker, with you, Padawan Y/L/N,” he shook his head, humming in satisfaction, “Now, that is something that would be fun.” 

“First of all, you know that’s not plausible because Master would not ask someone else to train me in his absence, and second of all,” you paused, turning more towards him and leaning close enough that his eyes flickered across your features in interest, a look of playfulness of your own forming, “I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” His tongue clicked along the inside of his cheek, a look of satisfaction forming enough for you to bow your head to peer back at the page you had reread at least twice already before he had interrupted you.

There were two seconds where you were able to find your initial place when, “So, are we getting out of here or what? I mean shit.” 

You sighed then eyes finding his again but yours suddenly resembling a gentle glare. 

“We have a half-an-hour. Let’s go do something fun.” 

“You mean something that would get us into trouble,” you corrected, unable to stop the urge to do as he says. To close that book and leave it on that table just to follow him wherever he asked. 

“Not exactly. Is that what I was referring to?” 

You chuckled dryly, “They are one and the same, Anakin. Besides, you see me every waking moment of every day as well as at night. Aren’t you able to separate from me for at least thirty minutes so I can read at least two chapters?” 

“Two chapters on the molecular configurations of the force. Seriously, this over hanging out with me? Really? I can say that doesn’t sound that fucking appealing. Plus, you’re wrong. I haven’t spent every waking moment with you because I didn’t see you last night. Or the night before.”

“I was sleeping,” you replied quickly, it sounding completely and utterly false the second it fell from your parted lips. Lips that had suddenly seemed to have Anakin’s attention. It made you shift within your seat, unsure if what you were seeing was actually real. 

He chuckled again, his tongue poking within the inside of his cheek, his jaw tightening slightly as matched your stare, “And now you’re just lying. I’m sorry, my lady, but it’s not quite a good look on you, so I’m afraid I am going to have to apprehend you from this boring ass library and take you with me.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him then, a smile forming on your lips, unable to hide any of it as he stood from the chair. A cocky grin accompanied that young handsome face of his as he barely glanced away from your form to close the book with a small thud. 

“You’re ridiculous you know that.” 

“No, I’m just better than you,” he said then, that smirk never ceasing as his stare once again flickered down to your parted lips smiling for him nevertheless, “Now, come on, I’ll make your time somewhat useful, and show you how to do my backspin with the lightsabers. Maybe, then you can get used to the idea of Master Skywalker.” 

You didn’t have any more grievances then, only able to stand and follow him through the library, somehow at a loss of how something that felt like this could be so wrong in the eyes of the people who were deemed good.

“You’ve been doing very well, Y/N. Everything that a young apprentice should be,” Master Obi-Wan complimented, glancing at you briefly from the corner of his eye as he continued walking ahead with his hands clasped behind his back. 

“Thank you, Master,” you responded, voice a mere mumble as you stared forward at the Temple’s garden before you, seeming to be one of the few things that remained untouched by the city. 

It was fresh, luminous, shades of bright green with looming trees and large bushes, many decorated with the most beautiful flowers and arches. It was something you had been desperately needing, some fresh air, some wisdom from the older Jedi, having been nothing but stuck in your head for most of the day, which appeared like most days. 

Anakin had done what he had promised and spent all of his thirty minutes of free time before training, showing you how to successfully engage in his backspin, unable to keep the Master Skywalker jokes to a minimum. Though you had only landed the move twice, you couldn’t help the way your face ached from the smile that never dared to disappear at the sight of him. 

It was something Obi-Wan had noticed as he had watched from the hallway for a few minutes before entering for the training session. He was taken aback at first — at that look upon your face, the smiles, the lingering stares, the soft touches Anakin always engaged in first. It seemed he had been a little blind himself those past few months, lost in the bliss of his two Padawans finally getting along because perhaps it was more than he realized, more than a sense of camaraderie, more than just a bond among Jedi. 

He could see trouble looming — looming over his trusted apprentices, over the closest thing that had resembled a son, the chosen one. It was the same trouble that seemed to be mirroring your face then. As if the solemness had returned upon the young Skywalker’s absence. 

“You are quiet,” Obi-Wan observed, stopping at the fountain near the middle of the garden. 

You hadn’t even realized you had walked that far.

“I’m sorry?�� you asked, seeming to not have heard him the first time. 

“You’re quiet, my Padawan.” 

You bowed your head slightly in shame that you had found your mind drifting, so much so you were unable to listen to Obi-Wan for more than a few minutes. 

“You’re deep in thought. Pondering such things I cannot know, so speak.” 

“I’m afraid that I am behind in my training,” you admitted then, the very thing you had been admitting to Anakin over and over again deep into the night. 

“Behind? I would say you are advancing quite well. Just as I would expect you to be.” 

“But not fast enough to be ready in time for the trials.” 

At your confession, Obi-Wan fully turned to face you then, no longer content at staring at the foliage around the two of you but instead the worry that elapsed across your soft features. “The trials? You wish to participate in the trials this year?” 

“Yes, Master.” 

“Y/N, that has never been done before, do you understand that? Padawans require years of training to ever reach the mental and physical competence to become a Jedi. You are lucky the council granted our ask for you to become a Padawan at all. It has never been done to even accept someone at your age.”

“I understand, it’s just—” 

“It’s just Anakin,” he cut you off, the name falling freely then from Obi-Wan’s lips, and it was enough to stun you momentarily. 

“Anakin?” you asked confusion showing. 

“I see how close the two of you have gotten. There is a connection there between two Padawans I have yet to see, maybe ever. Far different than I can say your father and I were. It would be hard, I know, to imagine him passing the trials, possibly leaving to engage in war, or traveling to protect those that require him.” 

“Master I…” 

“It’s a connection I hope I haven’t mistaken for fondness. I would hope your feelings wouldn’t cloud your judgment or even his. He is the chosen one with a responsibility to end this war. You know better. I have taught you. Jedi shall not know love,” he lectured, each and every word diminishing every confidence you had had before, every thoughtful task that didn’t have anything to do with the chosen one. 

You smiled awkwardly then, suddenly feeling as if you were being looked at under a microscope at risk of being accused of distracting the very Jedi that this war depends on. “I can assure you, Master, that love is not a word to use here. Not even close. This isn’t about him, sir. He has been a comfort, I will not deny that, but to assume I would ask of this because of him is…” 

The truth was you hadn’t thought much about that, last night when you lay awake. It had been a passing thought, one you couldn’t focus on — the inevitable that would certainly lead to the two of you apart one way or another with a certain strain on this newfound connection you were still trying to explain. 

“What is it then, Y/N?” he asked, a single brow raised, certainly surprised by my recollection of his words and your choice of response. 

“It’s just I can’t fathom the thought, the thought of wasting away most of my twenties being an apprentice, this young Padawan who has yet to accomplish anything. I want to be able to be active, make a change, have a voice, and teach. I was made and brought up to be a queen. I can’t possibly let that be a waste.” 

He tutted softly as if thinking, as if wondering just how exactly to advise to bring about a lesson to our words. You weren’t sure if he completely believed you or if he could ever see past the evident connection you and Anakin had formed, whatever it may be, but you couldn’t also deny the small ache that had been lingering almost in the wake of where that anger and grief used to gather. 

“It would not be a waste, my young princess,” Obi-Wan said, the title you hadn’t heard in so long, hurting even worse, “You see, it’s not about when you do it; when you teach, make changes, become this unstoppable figure the rest of the senate and council will listen to. It’s not about when but that you just do. Being young won’t make you any more respectable than if you accomplished any of it at my age or even older.”

You couldn’t look away, especially as the kindness and deliberation were seen through his eyes. There was such a care you hadn’t expected from him, not yet, at least not like this. And yet he also had the ability to disappoint you completely as he sighed, the worst admission granting your ears, “But with that being said, I don’t think you will be ready for the trials. I can try my best to teach you everything I know, but I would advise you to wait.

It’s a connection I hope I haven’t mistaken for fondness. I would hope your feelings wouldn’t cloud your judgment or even his. He is the chosen one with a responsibility to end this war.

Jedi shall not know love. 

You hated it. You hated how Obi-Wan could even assume that of you. To love Anakin? It seemed impossible. It had only been months. Some of which were unpleasant. The others, you were still very well trying to wrap your head around. Then most of all to assume you would want to participate in the trials to remain close to him. How could he even think all of that? That when you hadn’t even the ability to confirm if there was a connection that was more than what either of you had been told. 

You had tried, retired to the library so many times. Just hoping you could find anything on the Stars of L’âme. Anything that could explain the story, the myth, the possible scientific evidence to its existence, but to no avail, you came up short-handed because how could the Temple have anything that could even allude to love. It wouldn’t. 

Enough so you were left in your chambers staring up at the ceiling once again, unable to sleep, unable to even shut your mind off long enough to succumb to darkness. It would be far too kind to you then, far too inviting. You needed it based on the dark circles that were starting to appear. It had to have been past midnight, sure to be even two but you couldn’t know for sure as you were completely unable to move or look anywhere else but the paneling of the ceiling. 

That is until a knock sounded on your door. It was soft but loud enough to rip through the silence and your solid gaze. Sitting up slowly, you found yourself unable to move from the confines as if needing to know you weren’t hearing things. A second passed, and then two before the knock sounded again. This time slightly louder. Sliding from the bed, you walked across the room to the front door, unable to deny how cold the floor felt along your bare feet. 

You pulled the door open without so much as another thought, and it opened with a small hiss, the compressions releasing from how they were locked. Dim lights streamed in from the hallway, and you had to blink a couple of times for your eyes to adjust, and as they did, you exhaled, almost expecting it. 

Anakin peered up at the sound of the door, and his smile faltered for a moment at the sight of you. Whatever he was going to say seemed suddenly lost and rather replaced by the way his lips parted with ease, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, no longer meeting your own. It was then that you realized you hadn’t grabbed a robe to pull on over your night dress before answering the door. As if you were too desperate that you had to eliminate the barrier between the two of you. 

It seemed he hadn’t been expecting it either with the way he traced the cream silk with ease, voice lost, even more so as they rose to meet where the dress dipped a little too low upon your chest. It was the first time he had ever seen you in a dress, or something that was less than the robes or training shirts you often wore. Even on nights where the two of you were sat in the windowsill, a long robe, usually one of his old ones covered the rest of you from not only the coldness of the empty hallways but his stare as well. 

Dipping even lower, they traced how the material hugged your waist, sinching slightly to the way it draped off your hips. Your bare legs were smooth, even with the minimal light he had in the hallway. He knew there was no mistaking any of it, though, even the initial dip within the valley of your breasts. 

He appeared in loose pants and a long tunic, no robe, but still dressed as you usually found him, and there was no denying how it always made you feel. Clearing your throat, those blue eyes snapped up to meet yours, and the way a light dust of pink had appeared along the apples of your cheeks. 

“You’re awake,” he surveyed. 

“Yes,” you admitted with ease, knowing there was no point in lying as he would know. 

“You’re awake,” he repeated, eyes tracing the expanse of your neck and the way your hair framed your face, “And you’re not at the window.”

“Anakin,” you protested but he wouldn’t let you get a word in as his moment of stuntedness seemed to fade quickly, “That makes night number three. Looks like you could be avoiding me.”

“I’ve been trying to get some sleep. It’s been days, you know since I’ve had any.” 

He hummed, no longer ashamed in the way his eyes raked your form, unable to really ignore the way his body was so willing to react to yours, “You’ve been awake for at least an hour. Usually, it won’t take you that long to fall asleep if you’re really willing to try, and I waited at least twenty minutes to see if you would before coming to your door.”

He knew that he had you. You knew that he had you. So much so that you signed almost in defeat, arms crossing over your chest without even thinking much of it. “Okay, so what do you want?” 

His eyes flickered down but only for a second, perhaps half of one, before meeting your gaze once more, that charming look about him forming again. He smiled, “I want you to grab a robe. There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

“It’s late,” you surveyed, peeking slightly around him to peer into the dark hallway void of anyone else. 

“And?” he asked, raising a brow as he sarcastically replied, “It’s never stopped you before.”

You huffed loudly then, knowing there was no way for you to convince him to turn, leave your doorway, and retire to his own room for the rest of the night. He was there, and he knew what he wanted, which was for you to follow him out into the dark corridors. To anyone else, it was almost him asking for trouble, but you could never deny someone as painstakingly handsome as him, especially if it meant you got a few extra hours where his attention belonged to you and you alone. 

It was something you come to find you were jealous of and wish to have more of — his eyes, his attention, his looming voice. You wanted it all. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, turning on your heels quickly to walk over to where the robe you had been wearing earlier in the evening while you were getting ready hung up behind another door. It happened to be one of Anakin’s old ones; it was too small to fit him now. 

You took it quickly and slipped it around your shivering frame, and as you turned, you found Anakin poking his head in through the wide-open door, eyes suddenly transfixed on the room as he tried to take it all in. It was a room he had never been in, this place that was yours.

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Smile as you followed him out into the dark corridors, knowing then, and always you would probably do whatever he asked of you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, trying to keep up with his long strides, almost inclined to reach out for his hand. 

Anakin looked over at you, smirking lightly, “Why would I tell you? You’ve been ignoring me for a few nights now. It’s more fun watching you squirm.”

“Right, of course, it is.” 

Noticing the small worry line that appeared between your eyebrows, he couldn’t help but laugh down at you, unable to keep from bumping his shoulder into yours, “Relax, will you? It’s nothing serious. I think you’ll like it, actually.”

With that, a silence lingered, setting it between the two of you. You weren’t sure of what else to say, or if there was anything else to say, so you merely followed him as he led you further and further into the temple, away from your chambers and the emptiness that was your bed. There was no comfort to you then with your silent thoughts other than the gentle brush of his fingers along the back of your palm every once in a while as you walked. The first time it happened, surprising you to the point of looking over at him to find him still staring forward as if he hadn’t felt it at all, and maybe he hadn’t. 

It was at least a three-minute walk until his steps had slowed down, making their way through the darkness with you slightly behind. Rounding the corner of an empty hallway in the East Wing of the temple, he continued down it until he stopped about three-quarters of the way until he was in front of a large metal door. It towered over him slightly but not by much. Reaching forward to the keypad, he glanced at you over his shoulder quickly, a small smile of his forming at the sight of you peering up at him in anticipation. 

He chuckled, the sound gracing your ears as he input the code, followed by the pound key, which let out a short-lived beep matching the green light that flashed as the door decompressionized. A small hiss sounded from the steam, and you felt your pulse spike. This room was on higher lockdown than most, you realized. One you hadn’t ever been in, and if you hadn’t ever been, maybe you shouldn’t be. 

If it were any other time, you would have stopped him and asked if you should be doing this, but you couldn’t care. Not when Obi-Wan had accused you of going against the code as well as not being a good enough Jedi to participate in the trials. You were tired of doing what was expected of you over the past six months, not when you felt so much more with Anakin, even if it was as simple as sneaking off at night. 

Stepping past the threshold of the door, you were once again confined into darkness, having quickly lost Anakin as his footsteps echoed further into the vast room. “Anakin?” 

“Just turning on the lights,” he answered smugly as the door closed behind you, locking once the door had snuggly sat within the doorway. 

It was cold, and the first thing you noticed among your bare legs was the floor, surely metal panels underneath your shoes. The room was completely void of any windows, and it wasn’t until you heard the click of a switch before golden light pooled from the ceilings that you knew where Anakin was. As the beams appeared, you blinked for a moment, adjusting to the new soft light; it dimmed slightly but still enough for you to find Anakin just a few feet away by the light switch. 

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, taking you in as you suddenly began to look around the room. It was larger than you would have expected and dull, with boring walls and cold floors. Dull all but for the many things that seemed coated around the room, some nestled into piles, others left alone. A room you truly had never been in, and you knew then why. It was a room for the children, the younglings, the Jedi who are so young they haven’t even fully comprehended the loss of being separated from their parents. So much so that this room basically served as a fun park while they adjusted to their new environment as well as their training. 

There were beams, large mats, a pit with foam blocks in it, various lightsaber training sticks, and rubber balls — all bright colors seeming to bring life into the faded room.   Then right in the middle, a part of the tiled floor was removed and replaced with a rectangular mesh, almost thin pool. You had never seen something like it before, and you couldn’t help but look over at Anakin in confusion. Confusion of why, out of all of the places in the temple, he had brought you here, a place sanctioned for Jedi that was no more than ten-years-old. 

“It’s for the younglings,” he spoke then, pushing himself off from the wall, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room. “Created to help ease the transition. They are taken away from all that they know; their families, their friends, some young but not young enough to have forgotten. They are still children, even more so, still capable of remembering what having fun was like.” 

Pushing another light switch, another set came on around the mesh fabric, a bright blue that reminded you of the color of your lightsaber — it was neon, glowing, calling you to follow Anakin as he stepped closer to it. “This was my favorite place to be.” 

You listened intently as he then kicked off his shoes, being left in socks, and stepped forward onto the mesh floor. You were holding your breath then as it dipped, almost seeming to absorb his weight, and slingshotting back up to create a small bounce under his feet. 

“And this, well let’s just say it took Master hours to get me to leave.” 

“What is it?” you asked walking close enough to where his shoes were left. 

Moving from the center of the mesh floor, he approached the edge, sticking out a single hand for you to take, “It’s used for the younglings when they are first beginning to learn to levitate, flip, stuff like that.” 

Slipping your own shoes off, you took his hand and stepped forward onto the bendable floor. You stared down, curious of the way it dipped under your weight, bent, feeling as if you were floating in mid-air with no solid ground under your feet. Anakin was laughing, you knew that much, entertained by the kid-like wonder that was appearing across your face. 

With his hand still wrapped around yours, you looked up at him, a brow raised and a small smile forming along your own lips, “Now what?” 

“And now we jump!” 

Before you knew it, he had his other hand wrapped around yours as he jumped up into the air, bringing you with him. Your lips fell open in shock as you came back down, only to bounce back up higher than you would have been able to do on your own. A laugh escaped, it sounding so carefree and natural that Anakin couldn’t help but laugh too. The sound is enough to make your chest flutter. 

You found the more you jumped, the higher you went, enough to create excitement, goosebumps to appear, and this lightness to flush your whole body. One you really hadn’t felt in years, like suddenly all of the weight you had been struggling with, compressing you into someone else entirely, was temporarily gone. All you could feel was the air shifting around you and how inevitably right it all was. How, even after nights of ignoring Anakin, it always would feel right. 

And how perhaps Obi-Wan had been onto something.

It plagued your mind over the next thirty minutes with the two of you spent jumping, Anakin going as far as to do flips and different tricks he had first learned when he was nine and transferred into his training with force and levitation. You could only watch in awe with the most pure smile on your face — the world seeming to be at a standstill for just a little while. 

So much so that by the time hours had passed, the two of you were lying down on the trampoline, letting the fabric leave imprints on the back of your legs and arms. You were tired. He was able to see it in your eyes but neither of you could even fathom leaving yet, not when you both were smiling the way you were at ease finally. 

You were lying on your side, head balancing along the inside of your palm, facing Anakin, fully engaged in the questions he asked about Bakura — about what your favorite place was, how it was able to succeed within the capital, the political tendencies of your people. He found himself asking question after question, completely sucked into getting to know as much as possible, all because it was you. Bakura, even when it was gone, no longer levitating within space, spinning with life upon it, it was still you; in every way. 

“So when you were to become queen, in simpler terms, you would have become a politician?” The question was so innocent, but you felt the grumble around the sole word. Anakin was facing you, his leg bumping yours, his body mirroring yours in the way he leaned his head against his palm, a mere few inches separating you two. 

You knew how he felt about them; politicians, senators, the whole lot. He found the majority of them corrupt, even those who had established the Republic up from the ground. How could he not? He felt politics were void of anything he valued, most of all including compassion. There was no surprise when he began asking questions about your own system, a Monarchy, which in itself was just another way to rule other than the Democracy he had grown up within. 

“A ruler,” you corrected. 

“I find them to be the same. Though we live in a Democracy, we are ruled by politicians; indirectly, they decide how things will run, corroborate what citizens should believe or not believe, and then, with support, are able to put those things into power.” 

“Maybe they are similar, but they are not the same, not really. I would have been a queen, yes, a single ruler, but it would have been more than just a title. I would have made sure of it. There is a council, you know, one like the Jedi Order or the Senate, where the royal family can lean on and have support while making decisions. I would have trusted them to help me lead, and I would have listened to those who wished to be heard and make changes within the council ship and the city,” you explained, the thoughts coming with ease as you imagined what your life surely could have been like had Bakura remained untouched, “I would have made things the way they were supposed to be.” 

He didn’t say anything at first, too lost in the way you looked, that hopeful glint in your eyes diminishing quickly at the reality that set in, the loss of your power, your ability to invoke change. He could only admire you as you talked, passionately wishing to change the world. 

There was a pause before he decided to reply with a light chuckle laced within his words. “That’s something a politician would say.”

“And so what?” you countered, pushing him back lightly enough that he almost fell back onto the trampoline, “What is so wrong with that? It was what I was made to become.  I would have been great at it, you know. Being queen.”

“Is that what you wanted, though?” he asked then, laughter falling away to a serious ask. He was closer now, only a few inches or so apart, close enough you were able to see the different blues that appeared in his eyes and the gentle lines around the corners of his lips. 

“I’m not sure what I wanted then. I wasn’t really ever asked because that’s what I would be made to be.”

He hummed then, eyes flickering down to the annoyed frown that appeared across your lips, somehow mirroring the flash of frustrations that reflected in your eyes. “And what about a king?”

“A king?” you repeated, his question taking you by surprise, to which he nodded, proving that he was indeed serious. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the thought, “Yes, well, there would have been a king. I’m sure some Lord or politician you wouldn’t like very much would have been chosen.” 

You expected him to laugh or smile, perhaps smirk at the way you teased him, but he didn’t. His only response was a furrow of his brows. “Chosen? You mean like arranged?”

“Yes.” 

“But your parents—” 

“My parents were an exception,” you said almost solemnly as if you were reliving your previous life, just how much it resembled a sort of prisoner rather than a ruler, “My father was wise, a Jedi, who left the Jedi Council for my mother. He was different, and a kingdom can’t rely on random men to be great rulers. That’s how royal families are destroyed, and cities fall.” 

There was a pause on his end, a slight inhale as his eyes began to swirl with even more questions and uncertainty at the reality of your previous life. He couldn’t help but swing his legs around and sit up, stare never wavering as a certain edge appeared in his voice then, “That day, when I… were you arranged to be married?” 

You shook your head, “No. My mother hadn’t quite found anyone yet. I would imagine him, though, you know, make him up in my head and try to make it seem less awful than it really was.”

“What was he like?”

You laughed suddenly confused by his ask, “What?” 

“The king? Your king?” he clarified, and at that, you couldn’t help but bow your head, a blush forming along the apples of your cheeks, suddenly feeling embarrassed by it. 

“Anakin,” you protested but didn’t get very far as he sent you a narrowed look, his hand flicking at the back of yours with annoyance. “Fine.” 

You took a moment, to inhale, to breathe, and remember to six months before. To when you hadn’t known him, Anakin Skywalker. To when you were just the princess of Bakura, not a Jedi, a woman able to be open to love, but only the love chosen for you. It was enough to have you make up a man, the perfect man, to whom you thought about day and night for almost two years with the hope he would end the torment that would be an arranged marriage. 

“I thought of him as tall with dark curls. Light eyes that could capture my soul, it seemed, and this certain look, a soft smile about him where he seemed to always be in favor of teasing me. He would be strong-willed and willing to hold power, but not so much that he would overshadow what I thought. And also passionate, know what it’s like to feel and accept the fact,” you explained then, unable to face him or look him in the eyes as you couldn’t help but recount just what you had always wanted.

It somehow matched the young Padawan who had gone on to rescue you the day that Bakura was burning and the Jedi before you then. How had that happened? How had it been so perfect, so true, as if the stars themselves had sent him? 

Anakin felt his chest tighten, at each and every word you whispered with uncertainty as if afraid. He knew, though, he could see you were telling the truth, by the mere quiver in your lip to the way you thought carefully with a crinkle in between your brows that this wasn’t something you were saying on the spot but rather what you had always thought and believed. He wanted to take your hand in his or do something to get you to look at him, to acknowledge how it all sounded then. Because he couldn’t deny the similarities, the way it felt as if you had been describing him, recounting each thing about him other than the physicalities. 

A Jedi shall not know love. 

He couldn’t though. He knew he couldn’t.

“And I suppose…” he trailed, pausing to watch the way your eyes flickered up to meet his again, anticipating what he was going to say next. He smirked, unable to stop himself as he said, “He would believe in the politics of a dictatorship. Support the act of one ruler.” 

You stared over at him, watching as his expression shifted, a light filling his irises and the corners of his lips lifting into a smile as a laugh escaped. “You’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’d be much too frightened to tease a princess.” 

At the title, the only title you had wished for him to never call you again, brought about another feeling then, one of what could only be described as warmth. One that had a small blush appearing on your face but also a need to shove him over. He could only laugh though at the sight of your embarrassment, at the way you could fold under his teasing, his touch as he reached forward to take both your wrists in his hands.

Before you could gain your footing, he had pulled you up from where you were sitting, both his arms looping around your lower back, still laughing, head dipped back slightly as he stood upon the trampoline.

“Anakin,” you warned, trying to squirm out of his grip. 

It only tightened then, your feet hanging mid-air as he began to jump up on the trampoline, somehow still able to go just as high with you in his arms as he had been by himself. You were half-laughing but also half-yelling, arms suddenly around his neck as you glanced down to the ground each time you were up in the air. As he got really high one time, he pretended to let you slip from his arms, enough to get a small squeal to escape, only making him laugh harder. 

“Anakin, stop, don’t do that,” you scolded, though the fall would be low, “That's not funny .” 

He didn’t listen, though as the next jump up, he went to do it again, but this time, he had really lost his grip on the back of you. You began to slip enough that your stomach dropped slightly. Noticing this, he tried to take hold of you again but fumbled quickly, and before you had even realized it, Anakin was on his back on the mesh floor with you harshly falling on top of him. 

An exhale was pulled from his chest at the impact, and you felt your torso ache with the collision of his own. He swore under his breath, his laughter falling short, as he grumbled, head relaxing back against the fabric. With one leg wrapped around one of his and the other thrown over his thigh, you leaned over him on your elbows, torso almost flush against his, lower body slightly straddling his. 

“Anakin,” with wide eyes and a nervous lilt in your voice, you couldn’t help but remain unmoving, trying to hold as much of your weight off of him, “Ani, are you alright?” 

His chest tightened, stiffening at the sound of the nickname, one that was all too familiar but just not from you. He relaxed quickly though somehow liking the way it sounded from your tongue. Then he was opening one eye up towards you and then another, trying to hold back his smile as long as he could, but upon noticing the way you were chewing on your lower lip in worry, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, his facade diminishing quickly. 

At the sound, you knew he was fine, probably had been the whole time, and you couldn’t help but also start laughing but not without punching him lightly in the shoulder. He didn’t seem to care not as his arms came up to rest along your hips, hands along your back, his head a few inches from your own, unable to do anything but listen to the way your laughter sounded. The way it had never sounded like that before ever. He wanted it to last for as long as possible, just as the feeling of you sitting upon his body. He couldn’t help though to suddenly roll, you falling back onto the trampoline bouncing slightly as he hovered over you. 

A breath slipped, a steady, almost whimper as the weight of his body sunk into yours comfortably, his legs parting yours with ease. Your laughter faded, a mere giggle, and then to nothing. He followed, too, until suddenly it was silent, all but the steadiness of your breathing. He was warm, so warm, strong, his body firm against your own that it had a new feeling pooling at the base of your stomach. One you had been ignoring since you had first laid your eyes on him. But it proved difficult then as his blue irises bore down into yours, his lips glistening where he had wet them with his tongue within the blue neon lights of the room. 

Your eyes flickered down to them with ease, but it didn’t last long, not as you both lifted your heads at the sound of the door decompressing at the sound of the correct code being put in. Then it was opening and you both could only lay there as the figure of your Master Obi-Wan appeared. He was reaching for his lightsaber, dressed in robes he always wore to bed, sleep still cascaded in his eyes. A look of confusion that was quickly doused and replaced with a furrow and a frown at the sight before him.

You watched as Anakin lifted one hand from where it initially was pressed alongside your head, a sheepish smile appearing across his lips as he waved. “Hi, Master.”

[artificial-transmutations]

Transformation Letter: Charlie

Hi my name is Charlie, I would like to be transformed into any man you want. But not an object please. I am 26 yo, 170cm tall with a slim twink body. I have white skin, blue eyes and short dark hair.

You hesitate slowly before putting the envelope into the box. It is not that you are unhappy with who you are, but somehow, the thought of becoming someone else is oddly interesting to you. With a silent thud, the letter falls into the box - it's done now, and you can't retrieve it.

The shady online ad had promised that changing your body was not only possible, but really easy to do, too. All you had to do was write a letter to the company and they would care for the rest. To be honest, you don't really believe in all that. It was scientifically unlikely that anyone had developed a technology to change bodies - let alone at a distance knowing nothing more than your name. But still, you had been curious enough to try it.

So, you composed a lengthy letter, describing exactly who you are and what you want changed. That you are happy with your slim build but would like to change certain details. For example, your dark hair could be a bit more interesting. And your butt could be a bit juicier. Oh, and if they shaved one or two years off, leaving you at 22 again, that would certainly not hurt.

It's not like you are old, not even having hit 30 yet, but the gay community was somewhat superficial - picking up guys had been easier a few years ago.

You even attached a picture to your letter showing how you look right now.

What you didn't do though, is read the description of the ad thoroughly. Instead of monetary compensation, they reserved the right to choose your transformation. All the details you worked out for your change will ultimately be in vain - and you are entirely at the mercy of a faceless internet company, having unknowingly sealed a contract that grants them all rights on your physical appearance.

Of course, you know nothing of that. After having put in the letter, you head back home and fix yourself a salad before heading to bed early.

Over the course of the next few days, absolutely nothing happens and soon, you have already forgotten the strange ad and the letter you sent. You continue to live your life without knowing your letter has been dispatched, delivered and processed at its destination. Until, a good week later, suddenly, your face feels itchy. Thinking nothing you scratch at the itchy spot, but the itching returns a few moments later.

When you touch your chin again to scratch it again, your hands meet an unfamiliar feeling. There are short, bristly hairs on your chin! But that's impossible! You never grow a beard, and you distinctively remember being entirely smooth this morning. You quickly rush to the bathroom to have a look in the mirror and almost can't believe your eyes:

There is a clearly visible five o' clock shadow in your face, looking alien and ill-fitting. But it's definitely there. When you touch the short hairs again, you can feel the short hairs bend slightly to your touch. They are dark and clearly visible against your skin. This is definitely *your* stubble! You are growing a beard!

Suddenly, you remember the letter. But that can't be, can it? You certainly didn't wish for a beard! Perhaps this is some kind of side-effect?

You have a closer look at your face, searching for further changes. You notice a dirty spot on your cheek.

Has this been there a minute ago? You try to rub it off but only manage to smear it across your face. You try again, this time with water, but as you look up, you find the dark smear having spread all over your face. Even worse, when you try to wash it off, only some of it comes off. The rest of the dark muddy dirt seems to have seeped into your skin and has made it darker than before, like a tan.

You can even watch the tan spreading in the mirror. Going down your quite hairy chin onto your neck and disappearing into your shirt at the collarbone.

Quickly, you try to wriggle out of your shirt, only to find that surprisingly difficult. When you finally manage to do so, you understand why at once: Your body has bulked up considerably! Your torso that has darkened with the spreading tan and is also covered with stubbly dark hair is way more muscular than before. Your shoulders are broader, and your entire frame is... bulky to say the least. There is not much left from your original slim and twinky body. By the second, you're becoming buffer and darker. When you look back into the mirror, your face reminds you nothing of what it was! It even appears as if you have actually gained a few years, putting you at least past the mark of 30.

This is impossible! You have to stop that. You need to call the company right now!

With that thought, you rush to your laptop and try to remember the company name. Artificial something was it, right? Transformation? No, wait. Transmutation. That's it. You start entering the company name into the search engine but find it increasingly difficult to do so. You do know how to type, of course, but your hands are getting bigger and less precise. When you finally hit enter, the search engine lists the results.

Or, at least you think it does. You blink once, squint your eyes and blink again. You can clearly read the letters on the screen, but the composition makes no sense at all. It's like trying to read an entirely different language. But that can't be! English is your mother tongue, you should be able to read it clearly. Instead, you only recognize very few simple words. "and" for example, or "I".

It's no use. You have lost the ability to read English. But certainly, you can read another language? You try not to think about anything as you type a new query in the address bar of the browser.

Well, good news is that you can read the texts again when the site loads. It's clearly Spanish that you have no problem understanding. But instinctively, you have entered a porn site. Gay porn, to be precise - good. At least this hasn't changed.

Just looking at the pictures makes your cock grow in your pants. And grow. And grow. When you look down at your lap, you recognize a massive beast of burden that certainly wasn't there before, either. Curiously, you unzip your pants and are greeted by a large, throbbing, uncut cock, framed by dark curly pubic hair. Of course, in your old body you always shaved your pubic hair neatly. However, here it's ungroomed and a dark contrast to your tanned brown-ish skin. With the cock that has sprung free, you also freed a cloud of musky smell. The manly smell of unwashed groin and sweat, along with traces of piss and precum.

Without thinking, you take a deep breath and then another one. That smells good, you decide, and your throbbing cock agrees. You grab your large cock with your large hand and start a video with your left one.

As you watch the manly figures on the screen fucking each other, your quickly start to move your hand up and down your length, too. A deep, rumbling sound escapes your throat and soon, your heavy balls begin to churn. You are going to cum!

The thought makes your head spin, and you quickly aim your cock at your laptop's screen. Your mind is so overwhelmed with lust, it's not like you can even think anymore. When your first rope of cum lands on the screen, splashing all over the photos, the second shot flies even further and lands in a pool of white semen on the keyboard.

Huffing and panting, you slowly regain clarity. God damnit, you didn't really do *that*, right?

Worse enough that you snuck into your clients home and used his laptop to watch porn, no. Now your sticky cum is slowly running down the screen and dripping under the keys. There's no way you’re able to clean this up properly.

Awkwardly, you use your shirt to wipe over the laptop superficially. Still, there is a clearly visible spot of dried cum on the screen and the keys will be sticky to operate. You briefly consider cleaning the machine with water but don't want to damage it.

It's no use. You just hope your client won't notice until you are gone. On that note, you quickly make your way back into the garden, resuming your work in the heat of the summer, only clad in a short pair of shorts that accentuates your huge Mexican cock.

Gone is Charlie the twink. Your new life is Carlos, the dumb and randy Mexican gardener.

What is this? A "Transformation Letter"? Yes, you heard right! Over at my riot page, you can send transformation letters that will change your life forever. The only catch? You can't choose what you will become. Carlos here is certainly changed a lot, but not like he intended. Would you be luckier if you tried? Head over to the instructions to try your luck!

[phantom-z0ne]

Serendipity

"Billy wasn't sure what the creature ransacking his train car was.” Alternatively, Billy feeds a stray and ends up with a roommate.

WC: 1215

Serendipity (n): the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

──── ∘°❉°∘ ────

Billy wasn't sure what the creature ransacking his train car was. Granted, the train car wasn't in the most hidden place ever, but he had made sure to ward it against most creatures. The ward would have made one unable to see the train, and if they somehow saw it anyways, they would have been turned around. He usually was pinged if anything passed his wards, which was why he was so blindsided to see something moving around in his train car. It seemed that this one had slipped through his protections. 

The creature was strange and almost hard to look at directly. Its blinding white hair moved independent from the wind and twined around its long, pointed, mint colored ears. It was also small, small enough that Billy thought it could comfortably fit into his cupped hands, and wearing some sort of skin tight suit, black with a stripe of silver along its torso. Or what appeared to be its torso, Billy couldn't really tell when its lower body faded into a long tail.

From his perspective, it seemed to be rummaging through where he usually hides his food, showing slivers of its white paws. Did it pass through the barriers he set because it was hungry? 

Billy approached the creature quietly, making sure not to get too close, he wouldn't want to startle it. His efforts were in vain though as the creature snapped its head towards him. It's glowing eyes like headlights, as if staring into Billy’s soul. The green in its eyes swirling hypnotically as the creature bristled at his presence. 

Billy watched, amused but vigilant, as the creature puffed up like a cat. Even going so far as to swat a couple times in his direction. So far, it was quite harmless, but the buzzing in the back of his head that he usually equated to Solomon told him to be careful.

Billy slowly dropped to his knees, mindful of the creature's reaction, and shifted his bag to his front. He shuffled through his bag and brought out the small piece of jerky he was saving for later, sliding it slowly towards the creature.

The creature tilted its head, staring at the jerky suspiciously before taking a few steps to paw at it. It apparently passed its test as it devoured the jerky surprisingly fast for its small size. While it seemed to be starving, thankfully it didn't reflect onto its body. It wasn't gaunt or thin, but actually quite plump. Perhaps it just didn't eat for a day or two? 

Billy took a small step forward, then a few more when he realized the creature was focused on eating. “So,” He began softly, the creature startling as if it was just realizing he was so close. “What are you doing here, little guy?”

It stared at him silently before once again tilting its head. It was cute, Billy realized. The chubby cheeks and button nose paired with big, shiny eyes made it endearing to look at. His expression melted slightly as he took a closer look at the creature.

The creature's ear flicked as it padded up to him, paws on Billy’s knees. It let out an unintelligible sound, layered and harsh to Billy's ear, yet somehow melodious. Billy blinked, not expecting that noise. The creature looked at him almost expectantly, eyes shining brightly.

Billy hesitantly brought his knuckles closer to the creature, feeling its cold nose as it sniffed him. It was clearly unimpressed and trilled for more food. Billy chuckled under his breath as he brought another piece of jerky to the needy creature. It gobbled it up swiftly, looking up at him and once again begging for more, its eyes almost sparkling.

Billy folded under the cuteness overload and retrieved a sandwich from his bag, splitting it in half. He was worried that it would eat more than it could handle if he kept feeding it. He knew very well what that felt like.

The creature blinked at him, once, twice, before giving him a small, pleasant trill and headbutted his fingers. Billy cautiously set his hand over its silky hair? Fur? All he knew was that it felt divine, though not in the godly way. 

“What are you?” Billy asked as he wove his fingers through its hair, genuinely curious on what species the creature was. He had inputted a lot of creatures in his ward but he had no clue what this one was. The tingling at the back of his head spoke otherwise, Solomon knowing very well what it was. He could transform and ask Solomon, since he couldn't really speak to him unless he was Captain Marvel, but that would just scare the creature.

It gave him a look before resuming its lunch, finishing it in record time. Apparently, it deigned him worthy of its presence on his lap as it kneaded his legs then curled up onto them. The purring surprised him, pausing when the creature gave him an impatient look when he halted his ministrations on its hair.

He resumed, of course. Why wouldn't he? It was a nice reprieve from fighting villains as Captain Marvel and watching out for himself when he was on the streets. It was just a quiet moment between him and the strange creature that broke into his home. 

…He hadn't realized how lonely he was before this. 

He had friends, of course. Freddy, Tawky Tawny, and the Justice League. But… this just wasn't the same. As good as a friend Freddy was, he doubted that he would be willing to just sit and enjoy each other's company silently. Freddy was a huge superhero fan and couldn't help but talk about them in excitement. Not to mention his analyses on Billy’s techniques as Captain Marvel.

The Justice League wasn't any better. They had a professional relationship, thinking of him more as a coworker than a friend. The times he tried to deepen their friendship by inviting them out, he was unfortunately turned down. It seemed that they got along better when they were in battle than not.

Billy usually went to Tawky Tawny for advice, but Tawky Tawny never turned down the opportunity to just spend time in the other’s company. Unfortunately, those times were far and few between, usually because Tawky Tawny was traveling or busy with something else. 

With this creature— he’d have to name it eventually, Billy thought absently—all that was expected of him was companionship, nothing more.

Billy felt a cool paw pat his face, the creature looking up at him concerned. His eyes widened before he let out a huff, ruffling its hair. The creature let out a disgruntled chuff and phased through his hands then batted at them, settling down once more on his lap once it was done. 

It hadn't been with him long, all he had done was give it some food, and it was already trying to comfort him. Admittedly, it wasn't the best comfort, it stopped once he focused on it, but it wasn't something he expected from a creature he met not an hour ago.

Billy smiled, eyes soft. Perhaps it could stay, if only for a while.

──── ∘°❉°∘ ────

Whipped this up in a couple hours while trying to get out of my funk 

Thanks for reading!!

──── ∘°❉°∘ ────

Ao3

[octuscle]

Hey Cronivac Support,

I dont trust myself with the settings so i am asking you. I am Half German and half Moroccan, and I look German af. Brown hair, brown eyes, big smile and a really white skin. I am thinking what would happen if my appearance were based on my Moroccan genes.

Can you help me out?

Brother, chill out! Have a shisha. Just ignore that there's German shit in your body. Your dick is circumcised. You pray at least once or twice a day. Friday you also go to the mosque… It doesn't matter if there are still German genes in you.

Thursday morning. You will survive the last school year at the Gymnasium. What comes after that, you don't know yet. Something with languages might make sense. Your mother tongues are Arabic, German and French. And you are actually quite good in English and Spanish at school. But you also enjoy science. First lesson today is chemistry. Stoichiometry. Actually very interesting. But somehow you have more and more problems to understand your teacher. When he approaches you, you start to stammer. You can't think of the right words. "Youssef, you are welcome to answer in English, if that is easier for you." You sigh in relief. German is really a difficult language. And even though you have a German grandmother, German was never spoken much at home….

During the break, you hang out with your brothers. Talk about soccer, cars, the usual stuff. Smoke an e-cigarette to go with it. And you make an appointment for the afternoon at the gym. Then it's off to the workshop at the vocational school. Metalwork. Hey, you're not training to be a car mechanic so you can mill toys out of metal plates. You want to become a car tuner. And create really hot cars. Your vocational school teacher is from Syria. Fled a few years ago. He speaks much better German than you do. You've only been in Europe for two years. Your mother had the French and the Moroccan passport, so you could immigrate relatively easily. But you didn't understand why you had to move to Germany. Some of your pals now live in Marseille. You would have found that cool, too… But Stuttgart? Just because your father found a good job as an engineer here at Mercedes? Anyway, you're a fighter, you'll survive Swabia.

Lunch is at the snack bar of a former colleague of your father. He has saved up enough money on the assembly line for his own snack bar. And now he makes the best falaffels in town. On weekends, you help out a little. You can always use the extra money. And that way you also get the food cheaper. Since you've been in training, you no longer get pocket money from your parents. You are the eldest son, you now have to do your share to feed the family. And if you are the first to have a vocational qualification here, your chances of getting a permanent right to stay are also the best. If only it weren't for this terrible language…

Gym, auto repair shop, vocational school, Gym…. Your daily routine is somehow always the same. Your boss is also a Muslim, from Turkey, so you have tomorrow afternoon off to go to the mosque. But you also have to work on Saturday. But you are grateful that you have the job. And you can afford your car and the gym. It was not easy to come to Europe. It cost your parents almost all their savings. And now it's your damn duty to succeed and support your family. For that you learn to be a car mechanic, for that you sell falaffel on weekends. That's why you mop the gym floors and clean the toilets at night. You even study German for that. However, this has already brought you a few thousand followers. Your picture from the last workout has 800 likes after just half an hour. Let's see, maybe new opportunities to become rich and famous will develop. You have the right gene pool!

Pic of your latest workout found @tufas

[fallow-hollow]

this is a bit of an obscure ask but could you do some hcs for crushing on holm? i like to imagine he's surprisingly charming despite being so quiet and laid back... preferably with a reader who's the total opposite of him (loud, feisty, etc.)

spirit of pining

…ft! holm kranom x gn! reader

…tags! pining, fluff, confession, pre-relationship, relationship study, banter

…word count! 1152

…notes! i’m glad i can feed the holm fans on this fine day. writing for side characters truly is the activity of all time

Unless you’re somehow extremely subtle about your feelings, Holm probably knows or at least has an inkling.

Even though he finds you pretty interesting himself, he doesn’t make much of a move immediately. He tends to prefer taking it easy and not rushing things, so he’d instead just focus on spending time with you, letting things develop gradually and finding out more about you.

If you’re in the same party as him, you can expect a lot of light conversation and banter to fill the time while exploring the dungeon. Everyone else has sort of picked up on how you two always walk next to each other, and it’s pretty much become common practice during your explorations.

“You’d think after this long, they’d learn…..”

This probably shouldn’t have been funny to you, considering that up ahead, Kabru was struggling to yank his leg free from the grasp of a man-eating plant. Nonetheless, laughter caught in your throat as you approached the scene with Holm by your side. This situation didn’t give off much urgency at all, but you thought it was best not to dawdle.

“Quit it, that’s not nice!” Attempting to pout at him only resulted in an awkward expression between laughing and frowning, which only seemed to amuse him further. “Let’s go, before the poor guy is hanging upside down.”

Holm was even relaxed enough to maintain his half-lidded smile and loose grip on his staff through all of this. “I suppose you’re right… otherwise Kuro will get thorns up his nose again.”

Holm is generally a pretty lax guy, but he does his best to assist you whenever possible. This goes for all of his teammates, of course, but it’s more enjoyable to spend time with you, so he has a slight bias.

Sometimes he’s even able to push through his tendency to freeze up if you’re in desperate need of assistance during a fight, it’s pretty sweet.

If you don’t know as much magic as he does, he’ll be happy to teach you! (Fun fact, gnome-style magic is generally recommended for tallmen to learn as opposed to elf-style magic because of its lower mana cost!) He also may help you commune with spirits as well, such as his undine!

Speaking of Marillier, I think it would be pretty funny if she took a liking to you because her guardian does, too. Perhaps the spirit even picks up on his feelings.

Your cheek was now soaking wet from the glob of water that was almost nudging itself against your face, but you couldn't find it in you to be upset, finding the behavior rather cute. In fact, it roused curiosity in you more than anything.

After a few moments of searching, your gaze landed on the undine’s guardian, who was currently observing you with equal parts endearment and surprise.

“It seems like she likes you a lot.” The corners of his mouth perked up ever so slightly, a subtle change that clued you into his mood. “That’s pretty rare — she’s usually shy around others. Maybe it’s because I let you feed her before?”

A playful grin washed over your face. “Or maybe she’s taking after you! You know, because I’m your favorite and all!”

The gnome knew very well you were just teasing, so he merely responded with a chuckle and an utterance of “Sure, let’s go with that.”

What he didn’t tell you is that spirits do tend to be very intuitive, and pick up on the emotions of those around them… but he’d rather not dwell on that possibility at the moment.

A lot of time is also spent with you and thinking about you outside of dungeon work, too, which sets you apart from the rest of his traveling companions.

I imagine he even takes the time to write to his sister about you, only for her to write back that Kabru had long since informed her of your whole mutual pining deal. The man would be absolutely mortified about it.

If you’re not the type to take initiative, he’ll definitely confess eventually, but if you’re a more hold type, he’d likely let you tell him about your feelings at your own pace. He may find it cute to see you be so earnest, but he isn’t motivated purely by self interest — Holm is actually a pretty empathetic guy, and just really doesn’t want to rush you. After all, he hates having lots of pressure put on him, so he’d do his best not to do the same to you.

It was during a stargazing session that you’d told him.

He enjoyed these evening outings with you, and observing the sky was a common activity that you’d partake in together. Sometimes, he’d talk about the practical use of constellations, or even the air spirits that played a vital part in weather patterns, but often, mutual silence was just as fulfilling.

The intense stare you’d been giving him for the last few minutes was hard not to notice, if he was being honest, but you seemed not to know that he was already aware of your gaze, so he let it be. If you had something to say to him, you’d say it when you were ready.

“Can I ask you something?”

Ah, there it was. Holm took his sweet time turning his head to look at you. It’s not like you were going anywhere, after all. At least, if his desire to stay with you was reciprocated.

“Mhm, what is it?” The way you fidgeted with your clothes left him nothing short of charmed. Your eagerness truly was something to be admired… and admired, and admired some more.

Under the canopy of stars, there was little light to be found, making it a bit hard to see your face clearly. The movements of your lips were clear enough, though. “Well, I was just wondering if we could try going out again sometime… in more of a date-ish setting?”

The clumsy phrasing didn’t stop him from smiling warmly at your words. He wasn’t surprised or startled at all, but he had visibly softened.

“Of course, I thought you’d never ask.”

Your silhouetted form jolted sharply at his response. “You— you knew I would…?”

“Well, I had an inkling.” Far more than an inkling, really, but he didn’t want to embarrass you that much, as amusing as it was. To soften the blow, he added, “Or maybe it was just my wishful thinking. I feel the same, after all.”

“So it’s a yes?”

Even in darkness, those eyes of yours were as bright as the stars. How could he deny anything you said, really.

“Mhm,” he nodded in response. “Though, let’s keep this to ourselves, alright? Knowing the others, Mickbell probably started a betting pool on when we’d start dating. And he’ll probably throw a fit when Kabru ends up inevitably winning, so let’s delay that a while.”

[houndofsevenhells]

“Of Septons and Hounds” (Sandor Clegane x Original Female Character)

SUMMARY — A recently widowed impoverished spinster, who now finds herself at the Lannisters’ mercy, develops a strange relationship with the fearsome Hound. As the ten year long summer comes to an end, she tries to fight for the man she really wants, while dodging her good-brother's schemes to see her wed yet another elderly lord.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is my first ever work in this fandom, I hope I did my favourite fearsome Hound justice. English is not my first language so if you spot any mistakes that is my fault alone. Oh, and there’s also smut.

WORD COUNT — 3,391

Masterlist

The ten year long summer was coming to an end. I could feel it in my bones. Casterly Rock still stood tall and strong, as I suspected it would for another eight thousand years, but everything else around me was changing.

I was savouring a rare moment of peace and hid from the world in the alcove of the rose gardens. The round-petalled, sunset-coloured variety that grew here were my favourite, though of course the crimson ones planted at the very centre were the most magnificent. My good-brother Ser Damion once told me they were the pride and joy of Lady Joanna, and knowing his cousin Tywin I could certainly see why the gardeners worked so hard to keep these blooming all summer long.

As the recently widowed impoverished spinster, who now found herself at the Lannisters’ mercy, I hid in these gardens quite often–mostly to escape my good-brother’s schemes. One should hope his duties as the castellan of the Rock would have kept him busier…

I breathed deeply and felt my head swimming from the sweet scent of the roses. Somehow I knew the crimson ones smelled stronger as of late. I was sure they spoke of impending autumn winds. They had developed a startling, imposing scent that permeated almost the entirety of the gardens and it almost seemed like the flowers wanted to shine just one last time before they would inevitably wilt. Like the one last feast one would throw just before the first snowstorms.

“Well, then.” Suddenly, strong hands grasped my shoulders and I shot up from the bench I was resting on.

I was met with the half-burned face of Sandor Clegane; his ruined lips twisted in a mockery of a smile and his imposing frame blocking the sun from my view completely. 

“Oh. It’s you.” I was clearly relieved.

No less confused than before, Sandor took a step closer.

“Who did you think it was?” he asked. His voice was broken glass, crunching under infantry iron boots. 

“My brother,” I confessed easily. “He is getting fatter on his castellan purse, but is almost as tall as you, Ser Clegane.”

Immediately, Sandor snarled at the title, his grey eyes full of hate. But I stood there proudly, daring him to scold a high-born lady in public. I was riling him up and he knew it, but he let me all the same. 

“Come.” His command was short; an order a captain of the guard would throw at a fellow soldier.

“Is that any way to talk to a lady, Clegane?”

He said nothing to that, just sent me another angry look over his shoulder and then kept walking. I stifled a laugh.

Unlike all those other guards prancing around the Rock in their gold shiny armours, Sandor’s black ring mail and boiled leather seemed to be quelling the sunshine around him.

Unable to help myself, I followed him inside the castle.

His long legs carried him quite a distance further and soon enough I found myself trotting behind him like an ungraceful pony.

“Is that any way for a lady to walk?” he grumbled, though there was mirth in those angry eyes and I grinned as soon as I saw it.

“Is that a jape I hear, Clegane? By the gods, it–” But the rest of that remark died in my throat as he pulled me into a dark corridor that ended with a spiral staircase. He went down and again, I followed.

“Where are we?” I inquired.

“Underneath the barracks.” His rasping voice drifted up to me. Once more, he was leading.

“Lovely,” I sighed and then simply kept following.

At the end of the staircase, there was an old door with an even older-looking lock, to which Sandor for some inexplicable reason produced a rust-covered key. He unlocked the door and it soon became apparent he must have been the first one to do it in quite a while. It took a formidable power to open it at all. I looked at how his muscles bulged under the dark sleeves of his tunic and against my better judgement I did not stop looking until he caught me in the act. 

Without any niceties, Sandor took my hand and led me through the narrow passage, then firmly shut the door behind us; the rusty hinges straining under the task.

“I do appreciate the effort, Clegane, but if I should have to perish, I’d rather not do it under some aimless old stone that decides to drop on my head with–”

“You talk too much, woman.”

He grabbed me and soon my back was pressed against the cold stone wall. I did not necessarily mind. This was what I came there for; it was what I wanted and what Sandor kept giving me for the past year and a half.

I reached out blindly and when my hands found his face I pulled him closer for a kiss. He wouldn’t reciprocate at first, this much I knew, because such was our game. He would let me sense his humours and somehow through a simple touch and kiss I would read him like a book. I realised he would need it rough today and my body shivered with anticipation. I deepened the kiss and finally Sandor moved closer and started to unlace his breeches.

There was scarcely any light source in the old dungeon and I could barely see a thing. Regretful, giving my particular weakness for the sight of the man. Because Sandor was everything I could ever want from a man, even though he would never let me say it out loud. 

But the noose around my neck was tightening. With the summer ending and Her Grace slowly packing to move back to King’s Landing with the children, I knew the proper mourning period after my late husband’s passing was over. As I had no remaining male relatives, Ser Damion Lannister was in charge of any dowry my puny cousin Crakehall branch could offer. Soon, the evil beast that married my sister would force me to wed once more–undoubtedly to another evil beast of his choosing.

“You are shaking, my lady.” The familiar raspy voice brought me back. I sighed because I enjoyed him calling me a lady quite as much as he liked to be called “ser”.

“It’s cold in here.”

“Aye.” He reached under my skirts and I gasped once he pulled down my smallclothes. “So let me make you warmer.”

Another sigh turned into a moan when he put two fingers inside me and curled them. He was not being rough to be cruel, but because he knew I could not stand a slow and tedious prelude.

“So wet,” he rasped into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Were you thinking of me all day?”

I could not smell the wine on him this time and I enjoyed the thought that he wanted to experience me sober. I always liked it better when he was not drinking and I thought the incentive for him was that our time together would last longer.

“Actually no, I–” I exhaled and let out a surprised chuckle as he grabbed my thigh firmly to lift up my leg. I rested it against his hip and he added another finger inside me–this time more smoothly.

“Cease your prattling, woman,” he grunted. “Does the dark frighten you so much? Or the creature you find yourself in the dark with?”

I let out another moan as his teeth nibbled at my neck. 

The sensations were overwhelming. The stone wall was cold against my back, and the dank dungeon was not something I would call remotely romantic–it smelled of damp earth and rot, and to be truthful after a day of training in the yard, Sandor smelled no better.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see him sneering at me.

“Where in the seven hells are you?” He leaned in closer and as he replaced his fingers with his cock, I steadied myself by clutching his arms. “Because you sure ain’t here with me.”

“I am… thinking,” I whispered and it gave him a pretence to claim another kiss from my lips. 

He knew me too well; such was the consequence of two souls connecting the way we have been doing. At first our dalliance was just a mutual understanding–but now it expanded and grew like a root, and despite our better judgement, we started to get to know one another.

“Stop thinking so much, woman,” he grumbled, his voice surely hoarse from yelling at incompetent recruits through all of the morrow. “Look at me. Look at me.”

I finally looked up and saw the faint outline of his face. His eyes no longer resentful, now they glinted with lust. I smiled as I understood the object of that lust was me. 

“Go on then,” I mustered my best commanding tone and moaned as he squeezed my thigh harder in return.

The rough wall behind me, the strong arms I was clutching and Sandor’s hardness inside me all brought me back from whatever hell my mind had wandered to and I set my heart on the now. That is why we worked so well, I supposed. His roughness and my need for it paired together beautifully.

We were both close, I could feel it. Sandor let out a groan and I made myself tighten around him in response. I wished the moment could last longer, but I knew deep down all things that exist in darkness and privacy must one day come out to light.

I reached my peak first and nearly cried out–but Sandor was faster. He captured my lips in another harsh kiss, spilling inside me. I felt how his body tensed, pressed up against me. Still seeing stars, I let him release my leg back down, though I appreciated him still holding me close. I swore under my breath at how unsteady I felt and I heard Sandor chuckle. An oddly comforting thing, that disembodied rough chuckle in the dark. 

I pulled up my smallclothes and straightened my skirts, wincing at the mess that spilled from me. I did not care if his seed quickened, though. Thankfully I was no longer a maiden and knew my sums better than I used to. My monthly blood was still far away and I had more time to take precautions.

My release did make everything better, but I still was not finished with my game of teasing the bull.

“When was the last time you took a bath, Sandor?”

I could not really see it, but I knew his brows were tightly pinched together.

“Last week, I think. Why? Does this dog’s stink offend your ladyship?”

“No,” I chuckle. “Have no fear. I know who you are and I still enjoy your company.”

That, I gathered, stunned him more than a blow to the head could. I heard his clothes rustle. He was putting himself back in order, too.

“The smell of blood and sweat,” he grunted. “Some twisted tastes you have, woman.”

I put my hands in front of me and grabbed at his tunic to pull him closer. This time, he obeyed. I pressed myself against him and I could feel his breath quickening.

“Some twisted tastes, indeed,” I hummed and moved to rest my cheek against his chest. “But I wish we could go somewhere else. Somewhere far away from Casterly Rock.”

Somewhere far away from my sister’s husband, is what I truly wished to say and Sandor knew it well. I could feel him stirring uncomfortably, undoubtedly unsure what to say to that. I knew then that I let myself say too much.

“Well, we’ve got that. The two of us here, nice and private, as the lady commands.”

“Very amusing.”

“I do try.”

His hands moved from my backside then and I felt his fingers in my hair. True to the word he had once given, he was doing his best not to make too much of a mess of my braid. But I knew he liked my hair. He remarked on it often.

We were quiet then, just the two of us in that small dungeon under the barracks of Castle Casterly, and it was as close to peaceful as I have ever felt. I knew I was trying to hold on to this moment just a little bit longer, to somehow keep it from ending. 

To my surprise, it was Sandor that broke our silence this time:

“I do not want to let you go yet.”

I knew what it meant, for him to speak his mind like that. I was fast to answer so as not to keep him in suspension:

“Nor I you.”

I wanted to say more; to say I wished he were mine and mine alone. But that would be foolish. I knew it could never be. I started to trace soothing circles on his back instead; something I knew he enjoyed very much.

After a moment, he spoke again, though his voice was less hoarse now:

“And if I said… I am yours as you are mine?”

The pang of emotion in my chest was as pleasant as it was scary.

“I would say that is all I want.” I placed my palm against his scarred cheek and felt him lean into the touch. “I want you,” I assure him. “I do not wish to be away from you. I do not wish to be married to a lord or a hedge knight or the first drunk who wins against Damion at cards. I want…”

But then the moment faded away and Sandor brought us back to reality:

“What we want doesn’t matter.”

We have been here before, I realised. This was not the first time when both of us wanted the same, but neither believed we could truly take it.

“You know I am no knight. No lord. I’m just their creature, I’m the Hound.”

“Do not say that.”

“But that’s the truth,” he replied, his voice harsh and grating like knives on stone. “I have killed more men than I could even remember. I’m scarred and ugly and hard to look at. You would not be getting a man, you would be getting a beast.”

I knew what he was doing, what he was trying to do. But this time, somehow, I did not want to cower before my better judgement. Winter was coming and I was growing tired.

“Well, fortunately I am good with wild creatures,” I declared in my best lady-like tone. “If I could make your Stranger eat my apple offerings, I am certain you are no more work than that.”

He went silent and even in the dim lighting of the dungeon I could see the conflict in his face.

“Never had a woman like you, with manners and all. I was never meant for any court. If we give in, you’d be wed to a brute.”

I exhaled and decided then that if after a decade the seasons were changing, I deserved a change as well. I have decided then to break the spell of misfortune with a jape and took a step closer to sniff at his neck.

“Well, as your lady wife I could at least make you bathe more often. If that is not a credit to my taming skills, I do not know what would be.”

He laughed at that and even though his laughter would always be short-lived, I still took that as a victory.

“Fuck the court then, eh?” he said and gently held my face in his rough, calloused hands. 

“Fuck the court,” I said sternly, and I knew my swearing always took him by surprise, “and fuck their dances, and fuck their hedge knights. May they all dance themselves off the cliffs of Casterly Rock! And may Ser Damion die of a bloody flux. I hope it is painful.”

“Aye,” Sandor chuckled again and kissed the top of my head. “It is. But do not let them hear you cast your spells. I will do much, but I will not save you from a burning pyre.”

It would not matter if they burned me to ash tomorrow for true. Today I finally had hope.

“I want to be your wife,” I declared. “I want them all to know who protects me. I know you will protect me. They are all afraid of you and–”

“Look at me,” he ordered and I did so at once. “You say this… And you say this knowing what I am? Knowing why they are all afraid?”

“I do not care,” I replied, now close to tears from thinking he would not agree after all. “My good-brother is in charge of my money and in charge of me. I have nothing of my own, no reputation, no lands or keep. Truth be told, you are marrying down, Sandor.”

He laughed at that and I cherished the sound. I adored making the mask fall.

“You are taking advantage of me, woman, is that it?” he rasped, though now his voice lacked all that anger. He seemed almost happy.

“Yes, Sandor Clegane,” I grinned. “I have cast my spells and ensnared you in my power. All of our combined riches of one dragon and two stags shall get us as far as… The Trident, most likely. After that we shall both be whores, but we shall be very happy, indeed.”

“Careful, woman,” he snarled, though his eyes showed no anger.

“Pardon me, my lord.” I gave him my best curtsy.

That earned me a hard squeeze of my backside, but I had no regrets.

“Do you have no fears, then?” he rasped, his hand playing with my hair again. “None at all?”

“Well, I do not particularly care for spiders…”

“By the gods, woman! About me, I meant.”

“Then, no.” My grin grew wider. “You are many things, but you are not a monster, Sandor. I know I can believe your words if you say you would not hurt me.”

“Never.” He rushed to answer this and his hands immediately tightened around my waist. “But I will hurt anyone around you if I need to keep you safe. I will keep you safe, the rest of them can fucking burn.”

“Then I shall dance on the ashes,” I japed again, though my heart threatened to burst out of my chest from happiness. “Come then. Let us find some drunk Septon, I hear your Lord Tyrion knows a few.”

Sandor chuckled and took me by the hand to lead us out of the dungeon.

“He is your cousin.”

“Only by marriage. Remember, I am a Crakehall. Wild boars and lions are not exactly friendly.”

“And hounds are? You are mad.”

“You better wed me fast, then. Such a grand prospect shall not wait forever. But after that, I never want to see or hear the name ‘Lannister’ ever again. ”

We stopped on our way up the stairs and to my astonishment Sandor kissed me right then and there. He looked me in the eye, solemn as always, no doubt waiting for me to change my mind. But I would not. Not when he had shown me what happiness tasted like.

“What is it?” I asked. 

“This may be the most foolish thing I have ever done,” he grumbled. “And that’s saying something.”

I took his hands in mine and shook my head, smiling in a way I hoped was encouraging and not entirely deranged from joy. 

“I am the unreasonable one, Sandor. You shall be my reasonable husband that tames my wicked nature, remember?”

“Am I now?” He smirked. “So you do take me for a husband? I ain’t even civilised enough to know the… vows.”

“Neither does the Septon, if we get one drunk enough to agree to wed us.”

“Nothing will change your mind, then?”

“Nothing shall save you now from this predicament. The hounds are out, the boars are slain, the… I do seem to have run out of house sigils for my japes, but you do know my meaning, I hope?”

“Aye,” he said and this time he seemed to have believed me. “That I do, woman. Now, let us get you that Septon so that I can bed you long and proper.”

[dontexpectmuch]

Part 5 - Lost in Madrid

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author note; i know i made u guys wait for quite some time, but i hope i can make it up to u with this long-ish part. let me know what you think! enjoy btw they make out and stuff, but nothing too explicit :)

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series.masterlist

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the unpleasant feeling of nervousness mixed with guilt spreads through your body, the sour taste in your mouth making you almost regret your decision, almost.

you have to remind yourself over and over again why you are even doing this, like a mantra that your mother forced you to remember back then. Sweat tickles down your neck and your cheeks feel warm, the distant voices filling the halls finding their way to your ears, as if to distract you from your mission. senor lagardes closed door is the only thing holding you back from going in, it almost looks at you mockingly, as if you won't be able to go through with it.

Inhaling deeply one last time, you raise your hand and knock on the door, a deep voce giving you permission to enter immediately.

“ah, linda!” his voice calls out, happiness painting his features.

you smile at him and close the door behind you, not understanding why you got even more nervous all of a sudden. you spent many breaks in this room, senor lagarde was always kind enough to let you work in here whenever you needed a quiet place to work.

“i hope i’m not bothering you?” your voice is stable, you think, your hands however feel clammy, and you feel your rapid heartbeat in your throat.

senor chuckles, clearly amused by your behaviour, “you could never bother me, how can i help you?”

a sigh leaves your lips, tongue poking out to wet them, “i wanted to ask if it is okay for me to switch teams?”

his eyebrows shoot up, however instead of saying anything he just nods, urging you to continue.

“i would like to see how the volleyball players develop, you know? The footballers almost understand everything, there would be nothing for me to watch anymore.”

you resist the urge to cringe as you watch senor hum at your words, he must think that you are some weird kid that does not know that they want. you remember telling him just how much you enjoy watching the footballers, and now all of a sudden you request to change the teams, fucking paradox [or desparate?].

“i understand. just go to their coach and explain the situation, nothing to worry about.” even though he smiles at you, deep creases around his mouth and eyes, you wish to do nothing more but break down and explain everything, or even ask for hid advice, maybe even both. senor has started to become the father figure you missed over the few years, always going out of his way to make you feel at home and comfortable.

and you? you decide to leave his side because you’re nothing more than a coward, not knowing how to deal with your feelings and this whole situation to begin with.

you nod, lips pulled into a straight line, “thanks. i’ll make sure to visit you as much as i can.”

you bid your goodbye and leave the room, sad smile somehow not leaving your lips as you walk dow the hall to amandas classroom. You need a shoulder to lean on, and though you have not updated her about the situation, you can count on her to be there for you.

your steps are fast, the fear of meeting him fueling your body to move in a pace that got you almost jogging. though you try to be subtle, your eyes frantically look around, avoiding and searching for him, just so you can avoid him and reach your friends room in peace.

“so, everything was fine, but you avoid him because…?” amanda eyes you skeptically, leaning back against her chair with her arms crossed. one might think that she is scolding you with how you sit in front of her desk, hands placed on your lap and guilt written over your features.

groaning, you throw your head back, shoulders sacking, “i can’t be with him, manda. i won’t be here in a few months, like, that wouldn’t be fair”.

everything was just perfect that night, the vibes, his scent, his soft lips and the warmth that spread through you as he pulled you closer by your waist, deepening the kiss in a way that has never happened to you before. his brown eyes were so kind when he smiled down at you, making the stars in the sky jealous of the sparkle inside of them.

amandas stern voice pulls you out of your thoughts floating around jude, making you flinch, “no, you are being unfair to him, not the time or whatever you think it might be.” her eyes pierce through yours, “you basically are playing with his feelings at his points.”

“we don’t know if he actually likes me like that, i mean he could-“

“bullshit, that guy ran after you for months just to be even considered your friend, stop denying the truth.” amanda cuts you off, wording the thoughts you had, but were to coward to admit.

you sigh once again, head in your hands, “well, its too late anyway, i tried to avoid him for the past week, he probably hates me by now.”

“just talk to him, linda. he is a very mature guy for his age and will definitely listen to you.”

you know that she is telling the truth, that you are being unfair and that without trying, you’d never know how it would work out anyway. and though you already knew all of this somehow [did you really?], hearing someone else say it helps you gain a clearer view of the situation.

nodding, you get up seeing that the time has come to move to your own classroom, hugging amanda goodbye before leaving her room. the refreshing feeling of determination takes place inside you [might also be nervousness] as you take confident steps towards your room. you only have to finish this lesson, sprint to the field and wait for training to end, then you can talk to him and get things clear.

amanda is right, though jude is [adoringly] annoying, he is quite mature and will listen to you, and hopefully understand the reason for your avoidance the past week.

what you however failed to realize is that jude can be also quite emotional, stubborn and really talented when it comes to make one feel like they did the biggest mistake known to mankind.

because when yours and judes eyes meet as he walks through the gate, he immediately looks away and fastens his steps, beelining to his mother’s car. you always forgot just how fast jude is, his long legs making helping him move quicker than the average person.

you run after him, hand holding your bag to stop it from sliding off your shoulder, “jude! c`mon just listen to me this one time!” you call after him, fighting off your smile [and the butterflies in your stomach] as you see his steps flatter when he hears your voice.

he halts suddenly, making you almost collide with his back before he spins around to face you, his eyes holding a certain emotion in them that you can't exactly describe. all the confidence that you held in you vanishes as you look at him, his whole demeanor making you feel small.

as you open your mouth to force something out of it, jude beats you to it, his voice so deep that it makes your core clench, “you are fucking mean.”

your heart drops, everything around you stills as you look at his eyes defeated, not sure how to move on now. it’s the first time you hear him say something so, hurtful, especially towards you.

“jude, i-“

“i really thought you felt the same, like, shit, that was probably one of the best things to happen me ever since i came to madrid,” he scoffs, shaking his head, “and what? am i just some baller for you to fuck to get fame? really?”

you mouth hangs open as you try to find the right words to say, but oh how bad his words make you feel. did he carry these thoughts with him for the past week? fuck, you are the worst person ever, he didn’t do anything to deserve all of this, and you definitely do not deserve him in any way.

as your eyes dance around his face, still unsure how to reply to him, jude scoffs, light smirk - though it is anything but a good sign - on his lips as he looks down, hands resting on his hips. he turns on his heels, away from you, to continue his way to his mother’s car. each step he takes makes him feel a stab to his heart, even though you were the one who hurt him, he still can’t help but horrible.

that feeling mirrors itself inside your chest, too, and you decide to speak up, letting any and everything that just comes to your mind, “you were so annoying at first, i genuinely didn’t want to be in any relationship with you, at all.”

the sound of your voice makes him halt, eyebrows raised as he turns around, “is that supposed to make me feel better-“

“and i thought you were some over confident, spoiled and entitled footballer that thought that everyone wants them.” you cut him off, taking a step towards him, feeling better as you see that jude does the same, his eyes looking at yours.

“and it hurts me to admit it, but yes, i also thought, no -i still think that, you were - and really are, attractive, not the slightest bit arrogant and a sweetheart. yes, we had a weird start, but as you kinda forced yourself into my space, in a good way, i came to like you, fuck, i even missed you even though you were standing right next to me.” your cheeks burn as you just admitted all that to jude, the feeling even increasing as you watch his lips form to a smile, the one that he usually wore when he started to tease you for something.

“and that’s why you ghosted me? after that night?” jude takes another step forward, tilting his head to the side. his eyes never leave you, the warm temperature doing no good as a cold shiver runs down your spine. you feel goosebumps spreading over your body, the slight tingling almost going unnoticed because of the emotions you feel inside of you.

“i,” you speak up again, lump forming in your throat. you inhale deeply, “i’m not gonna be here for much longer, jude.”

fuck, have you always been this emotional? you let your eyes look up the baby blue sky, trying to reform your thoughts to make them make sense.

“even though i want it, like, really want to be with you, i can’t do that to neither of us. what would happen after i leave?” your voice grows weak towards the end of you sentence, the bag and a certain weight on your shoulders making them sack.

a sigh leaves judes plump lips, the ones that felt so soft against yours, warming up your entire body even though they only ever touched one spot. you know that now is not the right time to fantasize about the feeling again [there is no wrong time for it either], but the sudden urge to feel them again almost makes you go feral.

“i wish i could understand you.” jude makes you regain your senses, your eyes snap up to his eyes.

that probably means he won’t forgive you, you think, the unpleasant feelings from this morning returning. you should’ve known, why would he even forgive you for cutting him off so suddenly?

his big hand suddenly grabs your shoulder, then moves to grab your bag’s strap to move it off from it to put it on his. you watch his moves quietly, trying to understand what he is doing.

is he going to steal your bag as a revenge? [you definitely yap too much, you admit]

“let’s continue this at mine’s.”

that’s all jude as before he turns away to walk to his mother’s car once more, stunning you to your core.

“come on!” he yells back at you, a few meters away from his past position.

your legs move before you even notice it, quickly following him to the sleek black car where his mother already waves at you happily, which you return just as happily.

“hi, darling.” denise greets you as you enter the car and close the cafe behind you, turning her upper body to look at you properly.

“hey, how have you been?” you smile reaches your eyes for the first time since last week, comfortable air surrounding you.

throughout your entire small talk and the drive back to their home, jude just quietly sits in the passenger seat, looking out the window. his mother tries to include him into the conversation every once in awhile, though he doesn’t really respond to anything.

the pit of nervousness inside you only continues to grow when you enter the home and listen to jude telling his mother that the two of you will be talking in his room. your body follows him as if it is on autopilot. you can feel your heartbeat down to your toes, your hands are cold and your eyes look around his room when you sit down on his grey sofa.

jude puts both bags down next to the small coffee table in front of the sofa, then turns to walk to his big closet to change of of his training clothes into something more comfortable. all while you are in the room. watching him. you should look away, you think, and that is what you do [though you don’t want to].

instead, you decide to look around some more, impressed by how big his room is. all of it is held in a dark tone, greys, blacks and whites present through the entire room. his king sized bed is in the middle of the wall in front of you, two small tables next to each side. he has polaroid pictures of friends and family above the right bedside table, the wall above the left one left blank.

the grey sofa you are sitting on is across the bed, in front of it the small coffee table with a bottle of water and two glasses on top. his closet is on the right side of the room, next to it he has a drawer with different perfumes lined up on top of it.

his room looks like it is cut out from pinterest, but at the same time it just screams that it belongs to none other than jude bellingham. scattered pieces of clothing is present on the floor, some moving boxes pushed to one corner begging to be opened and the light on the ceiling is just one light bulb. a perfect example of what kind of person jude is, you guess.

you suddenly feel the cushion of the sofa next to you sink, jude now sitting next to you. he put on some grey sweatpants and a white shirt, his scent invading your personal space, though you do nothing but welcome it with open arms. you truly have missed him, though you suck at showing it to him.

“you actually like me like that?” his voice sounds giddy as he slightly pushes his shoulder against yours, making you groan as you put your elbows against your knees with your head in your hands.

“is that all you heard?” you ask, looking at him.

jude smiles down at you, taking one of your hand inside of his as he intertwines your fingers with his, “well, yeah. the important stuff only.” he shrugs.

he just shrugged, as if your fears are nonexistent. as if they aren’t a problem to you guy’s relationship. he didn’t invalidate them, you know it. he is too considerate to do so, but you just don’t know what to feel, if you’re honest.

“jude…” you begin, sighing.

“listen,” he sits up, your hand still in his as he clears his throat, “i understand what you mean, i really do. but that’s in the future, and we have lots of time til then. trust me when i say that i am serious about you - about us. if you let me.”

“let you what?” your voice is small, not wanting to ruin the moment by speaking too loudly.

“let me be serious about an us. let me get to know you even more, let me be your man.”

judes words stun you, knocking out all the air from your lungs as you just sit there and look at him. if your heart was beating like crazy when you first came into this room, it surely will jump out of your chest with how fast it is beating now.

“so, you just forgive me? even though i was so mean to you?”

jude pulls you closer by your hand, now your upper body rests against his as your cheek is squished against his broad chest. you feel him rest his head on too of yours, a content sigh leaving him as if he finally found peace.

“i guess, if you-“

“i won’t have sex with you now.”

“-become my girlfriend, but okay.” he scoffs, “you really think sex is the only thing on my mind.” [with you, it mostly is]

“kinda.” you shrug, not even fighting off the smile on your lips.

“so?”

“hm? so what?” you lift your head to look at him, his arms still hugging your body.

“be my girlfriend?” the way he asks you, the way his big brown eyes shine as he looks down at you and the way his lips stretch to a beautiful smile, showing his pearly whites make your shoulders relax.

“i’d love to.” you mirror his smile, putting your head back on his chest and closing your eyes.

“i can’t believe you won’t come back.” jude complains as he takes your bag out of your hands, watching you wave goodbye to the volleyball players on the court.

rolling your eyes, you turn back to home to walk home, gently pinching his arm, “i actually enjoy watching them. all of them are fun and volleyball is a cool sport.”

“cooler than football?”

you just shrug as an answer, teasing smile causing him to bump his shoulder against yours.

the distance to your home isn’t long, the walk filled with comfortable conversations and teasing smiles thrown at each other. you still won’t hold his hand in public, not comfortable at the thought that someone else might see you. and though jude tried to convince you for the past week to just go for it, he respects your wish to go slow, wanting to savor the moments. [if he could, he would push you against the wall, though, and-]

“i fucking hate these stairs.” your boyfriend, yes, your very own, very cool, very talented-

“you’re an athlete, jude, two flights of stairs shouldn’t be a problem.” you grin down at him, already walking up the stairs.

you hear him groan behind you, your fit of giggles interrupted as jude suddenly leans his upper body against yours from behind you, causing you to almost stumble over the steps.

“carry me.” his strong arms circle around your waist, his cheek resting on your back.

the weather today was mild, you’d say, not like the past few weeks where even one step would make you sweat buckets. but now with jude hugging - well more like holding onto you for support - warmth is washing over you.

you try to pry him off by twisting your body and using your arms, but his grip only gets tighter, noises of refusal leaving his throat in protest. if you don’t hold onto the rails, you would have definitely fallen down by now, judes weight pulls you down so much that even your legs start to shake.

“jude, let go!” you laugh, finally getting his hands away from your body to quickly move up the stairs.

jude looks up to you from his position, leaning against the railing. his smirk makes your knees weak once more, the air around you two causing a certain dizziness arise inside you.

“carry me.”

“no.”

“is that your mum?” you hear jude ask from the living room, turning around as you dry your hands to look at him.

he is standing in front of your photo wall, many pictures scattered across it from different places, people and memories. you knew that you would be leaving madrid soon, but having those pictures on your wall, just where you can see them makes you feel even more at home, like you never left to begin with.

you walk around your counter to stand next to jude, smiling as your eyes look at the pictures, all the moments flooding your mind.

“yeah, she’s really photogenic.” you smile at him, heart beating fast when you see him inspecting the picture even more.

“same thing can be said about you, eh?”

his teasing smile reappears on his lips as he wiggles his eyebrows.

you groan, leaving his side to sit on your couch, not in the mood for his antics, “please don’t, i don’t have the energy to feel insecure about my pictures.”

you don’t hear him anymore, leaning your head back against the couch and closing your eyes. though you only stood by the sidelines, you feel quite drained from today. the new rules and names alongside the warm air inside the indoor field making your head pound uncomfortably. you definitely don’t regret that you changed teams, it’s refreshing and you habe always liked volleyball, but you also miss señor lagarde and judes loud shouting across the field sometimes.

deep in thought, you don’t notice how jude starts to walk around the couch, now standing behind you. his hands slowly move to your shoulders, he even has to lean down a bit. you only truly notice his presence behind you when his hands start to massage your tense shoulders and your neck, unlocking a deep moan from you.

“oh, fuck.” you moan again, especially when his fingers start to press against the sides of the crook of your neck.

jude stays quiet, seemingly calm and collected even though you are quite literally a moaning mess [his mind is a stark contrast to his outer appearance]. his upper body moves down some more, until his face is next to yours, hot breath fanning your neck and exposed shoulder.

you shudder when you feel his warm lips on your akin, feather like kisses dancing around, trailing after his fingers as they massage your shoulders, down to your arm. his lips stay on your neck, slowly move to your earlobe as he nibbles on it slightly. you take deep breaths to collect yourself, but suddenly he starts to suck at a certain spot behind your ear, whiny moan leaving you before you can even register.

“fuck, jude,” you speak up, leaning away from his touch to turn around, “c’mere.” you say, more like demand, which he happily does.

you don’t know when or how it happens, for one moment you are on his lap, hands behind his neck as your fingers dance along his muscles, his tongue moving inside your mouth as to explore it. his hands love up and down your waist, coming to a halt on your butt when he suddenly pushed your closer to him. you could feel his strong thighs underneath yours, however one thing that blinded your senses the most was his growing member that pushed against your core.

the next moment, all of it feels like a haze, you are on top of your bed, lips never leaving his as your hands cup his cheeks, deepening the kiss if that was even possible.

you have always thought that you have gotten used to the warm weather and could deal with it, but the air around you two was different, more demanding, more intense. it was like being pushed against jude without a way to escape, not that you would ever dare to leave this situation.

his hands hold onto your hips desperately, and you think it will leave marks if he continues to do so, yet you are too busy to care, judes lips trailing down your jaw to your neck sending you to a whole other world.

how could you ever think that it wouldn’t be worth to try it out? you should definitely thank amanda the next time you see her.

“can i?” judes voice comes out deep, his brown eyes staring into yours so intensely, almost making you lose your control.

such a simple question, and you definitely know the answer to it, but judes entire demeanor makes you halt for a second, just so you can appreciate it a bit more. so simple yet so demanding. so intense yet oh so soft. if you could, you would stay like this for the rest of your stay here in madrid, cherishing this moment throughly with every fiber of your being.

“yes.”

and that’s all he needs to hear before he captures your lips with his again.

here you go!

i havent proofread it yet, but i hope you still like it :) lmk!!

[podcastenthusiast]

So that scene where you ask Astarion for sex and he breaks up with you in Act 3 if you slept with him in Act 1 but somehow missed his Act 2 romance stuff/character development.

This scene here:

(Sorry I could only find it on Tiktok. Not my video.)

What I find interesting about it is how unnecessarily mean he is. Personally I think he's trying to avoid a much more difficult conversation.

"I never slept with you for pleasure alone. Couldn't you tell?"

...Yikes. Yeah. I could tell.

"Back in the forest, we both came out on the winning side. The game was clear."

But it wasn't, though. He almost makes it sound like they both had a deal here but he was manipulating Tav, using himself like he always has, and it's like he's angry they never cared enough to notice that.

"You get a moment of escape with a world-endingly beautiful vampire. I get someone to defend me from Cazador."

Something about the way he refers to himself here reminds me of that line he says when he's bitterly lamenting the way everyone just wants his body. "There's nothing more desirable in the world than a vampire, is there?"

"I don't think, honestly, that your services are worth the cost."

...What cost, exactly? He really emphasizes the word. Plus, focusing on Tav's "services" as a protector shifts the focus away from his role in things. Astarion was the one knowingly, well, offering a service, for lack of better phrasing. This reminds me of another line of his, too, if you tell him after Araj he doesn't have to keep using himself like that, and he says "It isn't worth the scars anymore."

"This is what I do. Who do you think you were dealing with? Some fairytale prince? Haha! You are one of a tiny number of people I've slept with who aren't dead. Cheer up! It's quite the achievement."

This is so over the top extra rude. He even does his most fake laugh. Brings up his victims like that as if he killed them when we all know he was forced and there's layers of guilt, disgust, and self-hatred there.

He's trying so hard in this conversation to present himself as the monster he expects the world to see. He's saying 'yes, I'm exactly as cold and heartless as a vampire should be so don't look any closer' because in his mind it's too late to be anything else. They're in Baldur's Gate or near enough and he'll have to face Cazador soon. This is Astarion in full advanced survival mode, imo. Nothing matters but his revenge and the promise of power/safety.

He can't afford to let feelings distract him, even if that means burning some bridges with Tav. He can't be vulnerable anymore, because Tav hasn't shown him by now they could be a safe person for that.