#this was legitimately so nice !! i'm smiling

[gothamite-rambler]

Wilson: Those people need to go back to their own country!

Nightwing: Their country is America!

Wilson: How dare you defend them?!

Roxanne (a Romani woman wearing a baby carrier, indifferent): I just wanted to buy apples from the farmer's market.

Nightwing: You're ruining her fruit shopping!

Wilson: She can find fruit in her country!

Roxanne (flatly, accustomed to this rhetoric): I'm from Staten Island. It's not great, but it's part of America.

Nightwing: You don’t have to defend yourself. I believe you.

Roxanne: Aww, thanks! I appreciate it. I’m used to guys like Mr. Wilson. He’s been like this since I moved in with my family.

Nightwing: Yeah, I've had to deal with this guy for decade now.

Wilson: I'm just trying to protect my country from those people!

Roxanne: From my great grandma to my current child we were all literally born in Staten Island!

Wilson: Likely story, I bet you grew up in the circus, you damn carny?

Nightwing (taking offense to that): Hey, the circus is a legitimate home for some people! And even if she were from one, that doesn’t make you better than her.

Roxanne (smiling): That’s right! Again, I’m from Staten Island, which is basically a circus.

Wilson: Why the hell are you defending these people?!

Nightwing (speaking from experience): I defend them because they’re people who don’t deserve hate!

Wilson: You’re wrong!

Nightwing (shouting): IT’S MY OPINION!

Wilson placed a hand on his chest shocked at being yelled at.

Roxanne and her child: …

A lanky Romani man walked over holding two fresh avocados, but unfazed by Nightwing being at a farmer's market. This was the fifth time he visited since dealing with Wilson.

Pete (Roxanne's husband, joining her): I found the avocados, but this seems more exciting.

Roxanne: Oh awesome, these look good too. Wilson, go away.

Wilson: I'm not going anywhere!

Nightwing: I think you should leave, sir. Roxy has asked you nicely to leave her and her family alone. Just leave.

Wilson attempted to protest until he realized how much taller and stronger Nightwing was compared to him and begrudgingly took a step back.

Wilson: Fine, I’ll leave. Hope you're happy you got someone to stick up for you, dirty g—

Nightwing throat-punched the guy with rage in his eyes. Wilson gasped for air, deciding at that point to meekly walk away as well. The couple's baby giggled watching the hobble off. Nightwing sighed, walking.

Nightwing: I gave him a warning and he didn't listen. Ah well.

Roxanne: Hm… Thank you, Nightwing!

Roxanne waved goodbye, holding her little giggling baby's hand as well.

Nightwing (turning slightly): Oh, you’re welcome. Have a good day!

---Later, while Nightwing and Batman are investigating together---

Nightwing (explaining the situation): And he just kept talking and talking. He'd already used the G word before that, and I tried to stay calm. Like… Batman, I really tried.

Batman (agreeing): I believe you, and I don’t blame you.

Nightwing (surprised): See I knew you would say- Hold up, you don't blame me? Are you not mad?

Batman: Nope. You've told me this Wilson guy has been a racist nuisance for years. This was a one-off incident. I'm proud of you for holding back as long as you did. I can't say the same—I would've punched him if he called you that word.

Nightwing: Really? Aww, Batman, that’s so sweet.

Batman: And that was my sentimental side done for the night. Ready?

Nightwing (chuckling): Yeah.

[mentacose]

I hope you don’t mind my popping into your inbox, but I saw your questions about Legend of Zelda and thought I could help.

So, yeah, unfortunately none of the Zelda games have been ported to PC, so you’re kind of stuck in terms of being able to play them. However, the key word there is “play”—I’m a huge Zelda fan, but I’ve only actually played a handful of the games. Some of the older ones can be pretty difficult, and I’m really more in it for the story, so I’ve found that watching playthroughs on YouTube can be really fun. So if that’s up your alley, that might work for you (even just as a way to see if you like the games in the first place).

As for where to start, each of the games (with the rare exception of a game that is a direct sequel to another one, like Tears of the Kingdom is to Breath of the Wild) is meant to be standalone, with the “Link” appearing in one game actually being a different character from the “Link” that appears in another. You don’t need to play one game to understand what’s going on in another (again, the exception being direct sequels), so it really just comes down to which one looks interesting to you. If you want to become acquainted with the Zelda formula, I’d recommend Ocarina of Time. If you want to know about the origin story of the world and how the whole Zelda cycle began, I’d recommend Skyward Sword. If you want a mostly lighthearted adventure with pirates, I’d recommend Windwaker. If you want something more dark and gritty with werewolves, I’d recommend Twilight Princess (my favorite), and if you want to be weirded out and creeped out at the same time, I’d recommend Majora’s Mask. I’d honestly just recommend glancing over the games and seeing which one jumps out at you.

I will say, if you ever are in a position where you are going to play one of them, I’d probably recommend Breath of the Wild—it’s got the easiest gameplay learning curve. Though I might not recommend it as a first experience with Zelda as a whole, as it’s got a slightly different take on the formula in terms of story.

The nice thing about Zelda is that it has a complicated timeline and crazy amounts of lore, but absolutely none of it is necessary to enjoy the games. You could know about none of it, experience one game, and walk away having had a wonderful time. But the lore that is there to dive into is deep and really well thought-out, and is a ton of fun to get into.

Anyway, sorry for rambling in your inbox 😅

oh my word BLESS you for all of this!!! it's so helpful. i've met and befriended so many fans over the years and i've wanted to experience the magic for myself, it really was just a matter of knowing where to start. jacob geller's video on the games only made the itch stronger (i'd recommend watching it if you love zelda!!). i'm definitely saving all of this as a guide for when i start. i can hit you up once i do if you like!!

[torchickentacos]

The pokemon anime subreddit fascinates and frustrates me on equally deep levels

[lynne-monstr]

seimei: it's not like we'll ever see each other again bye seimei: lmao can't believe you showed up after what you said

[heich0e]

"I find you exasperating."

You go out of your way to step on a particularly dry looking leaf along the path—stained a deep, golden colour and curling at the edges where it rests waiting for the weight of your foot—just to hear the way it crunches beneath the sole of your shoe. At your side, Kakashi's attention is still on the book in his hand, the pages spread open only with his thumb and pinkie finger while the other three support the cracked spine. He doesn't spare you a glance, but he does deign to respond with a curious little hum.

"That's an awfully big word."

The lazy way he says it is enough to irritate you, but his condescending words are almost too much for you to bear. You stop in your tracks, fists curled tightly at your sides, and the white haired young man doesn't so much as slow in recognition of it.

It's fall in Konoha, and while the days are still warm and bright, the breeze that whisks through the village's winding streets is cool. The annoyance you feel prickling under your skin is enough to insulate you from the chill. To numb you to its bite.

You swoop down, dragging your hand lightly along the path to retrieve a handful of small, smooth stones—no larger than the tips of your fingers. Without a moment's contemplation, you launch one at the back of Kakashi's head, and watch as it bounces off dully.

He keeps walking.

"Irksome."

Another pebble hits the ground after ricocheting off the back of his headband.

"Vexatious."

The next makes contact with his right shoulderblade.

"Antagonistic."

He catches this one—just like he could have caught any of the previous three—without even turning around to watch you throw it. His hand, the one not holding his book, shoots up to protect his ear before the pebble can make contact. He holds it pinched between his thumb and forefinger for a moment, still leisurely walking away from you, before he flicks it to the ground.

"You're being so childish today," Kakashi calls back over his shoulder. "Are you sure I'm the antagonist here?"

You hear it then, the smile in his voice, and even though it would only serve to legitimize his accusation it almost makes you stomp your foot petulantly.

"Kakashi!"

Finally, he turns to face you, and even though his mask conceals most of his expression, you can tell it's hiding a grin beneath it. He tilts his head to the side, as though waiting for you to continue.

"How many times have you read that stupid book?"

The familiar novel is closed now, and his page marked, though you're not entirely certain when he did either of those things. He glances at the paperback, as though considering it carefully.

"How many times am I allowed to admit to before you call me a pervert?" he asks.

"You are a pervert," you answer, immediate and sure, while slowly walking towards him to close the gap he put between the two of you. "And you would be even if you were illiterate."

"That's not very nice of you to say," he says, tipping his head back and sighing profoundly as though your insult caused him great pain.

"It's the truth, though."

Kakashi peeks down at you from the corner of his eye as you stand by his side. Without thinking, you reach out and grab the sleeve of his jacket, averting your gaze.

It's quiet for a moment. Just the two of you, the fall breeze, the scattered pebbles, and that atrocious romance book.

"You've been gone for a month," your voice is quiet when you finally speak again. So soft it risks being carried away with the wind.

Kakashi didn't even tell you he was leaving before he was sent off on this last mission; you had to find out from another shinobi the next morning, and all they could tell you was he was gone and they weren't sure when he'd be back.

This isn't unusual with Kakashi. It's happened more times than you care to count. Missions that force him to leave the village at short notice are unavoidable—assignments like that to be expected for any shinobi, but particularly for one of Kakashi's rank.

It doesn't make it any easier.

You've thought about bringing this up to him before. Thought about asking him to tell you when these sorts of things come up. Thought about explaining to him how awful it feels to be the last to know. Thought about telling him what those long days apart feel like in this village without him.

But you don't.

Part of it is pride, you think. You're too stubborn to be the one to show your hand like that. To be vulnerable in front of him in such a mortifying, humbling way. Somehow the mere idea of making any of those admissions seems more embarrassing than trailing along behind him tossing rocks at the back of his head.

Another part is fear. You don't want to be the one to speak this thing between the two of you into existence. To give it shape. To breathe life into it by giving it a name. You and Kakashi have always lived in intentional ambiguity. A certain uncertainty. You're not quite friends, you're not quite lovers, you're not quite anything at all.

You're just the one who's left waiting for him to come home.

And then there's the last part—the biggest part—that holds you back. The part you don't quite know how to explain. The part that tells you to bear the pain of missing him, to swallow down your longing, for his sake if not your own. The last thing Kakashi needs is the burden of knowing his duty makes you ache while he's away. That his absence keeps you awake at night. He's got enough he needs to shoulder without you adding to the weight, and this is the least you can do to try and help him carry it.

You let his sleeve slip from your grasp.

"Sorry," you mutter under your breath, shaking yourself from your momentary stupor.

"Are you acting out because I haven't given you enough attention?" Kakashi asks, only his voice is different now than it was a moment prior. Sincere in a way that upsets you more than when he's being intentionally annoying.

You finally bring yourself to look at him, but only to shoot him a narrow-eyed glare.

His own gaze is disarmingly soft when you meet it. Unexpectedly tender. Perceptive in ways you usually choose to overlook.

So much so, in fact, that you're too stunned to even flinch when he taps his book against your forehead.

"Ok, ok," he says with a shrug, spinning on his heel and continuing on down the path at an idle pace, leaving you dumbfounded in his wake. "If you wanted to borrow it, you could've just asked!"

[twstedreamweaver]

Missing Magazines

Octavinelle with a Fashion Model Reader

How would the Octavinelle boys react to you being a model? Based on the premise that you, the reader, are a model and are featured in a popular fashion magazine that Sam sells at the school - except when you go to buy one, you realize that someone bought out almost all the magazines. Who could it be?

Things to mention: Azul never stopped signing contracts with people and the Octotrio are still shady. Reader is slightly different from canon Yuu. Also, this is my first fanfic, so I apologize in advance for any inconsistencies with POV! Twisted Boys featured: Azul, Jade, Floyd

The warm sun was a welcome surprise after several dreary weeks of intermittent rains and grey skies. Throngs of students were happily milling about on the central lawn, some boys from Savanaclaw were throwing a Spelldrive Disc like a frisbee, and you spotted some Ignihyde students actually touching grass for once.

With the passing of the Spring rains, Night Raven College seemed to spring back to life with the touch of a little sunshine.

And just in time for the release of the summer edition of one of the top magazines in Twisted Wonderland, Fleurs de la mode. However, this edition was special - it was your first official modeling gig for a fashion magazine.

Admittedly, when you were first scouted by a modeling agent at the NRC's Song and Dance Championship, you were hesitant (I mean, after dealing with the outrageous amount of con artists at NRC, who wouldn't be skeptical), but the Fleur City Associates modeling agency turned out to be legitimate. After some back and forth with your agent, and several gigs later, you got the opportunity to model for a popular fashion magazine on account of your unique "otherworldly'" flair, which you assumed was a weird compliment from one of your managers. Regardless, your nerves had long since worn off with the first paycheck (thaumarks are hard to come by) and now you were excited to see your hard work in print.

"Welcome back, my little imp." Sam waved from behind the counter. "What can I conjure for you today?"

"Good morning, Sam!" You smiled, "I heard that you just got in the newest edition of Fleurs, could I buy one off you?"

Sam gave you a peculiar look, before smiling - wait, was that a trace of a smirk?

"I do apologize little imp, but I am fresh out of stock. Those magazines flew off the shelves this morning."

"Wait, but didn't you just open like thirty minutes ago?"

You were a bit disappointed. On one hand, you didn't really need the magazine, but on the other hand, it would've been nice to have at least some proof of your accomplishment in this strange world. At a school where magic was the highest priority, it was nice to finally be known for something that wasn't just your lack of magic ability.

"Yes but, eh hee hee, it seems the magazine was quite popular this time around." Sam snickered. You sighed.

"However," Sam continued, "You've lucked out this time little imp, For the same price as a magazine, I can tell you who bought out half my stock. I'm certain that you can get one from him for free!"

"Thanks Sam, for the, uh, considerate offer, but I think I'll pass!" You remarked, trying to think of who might have bought out such a large stock of magazines.

"Are you certain, my little imp?" Sam leaned over the counter, smiling, a bit too maliciously for your liking. "Don't you want to see your magazine debut firsthand?" Huh?

You were only featured on a few pages, so how did he even know you were in there? Did he actually read the fashion magazine? Looking at his attire, you find that highly doubtful.

"How'd you know about that?" You inquired, trying not to sound overtly suspicious.

"Why else would so many imps be standing in line outside my shop at seven in the morning?" Sam, for sure, was smirking this time.

No way. How did this get around? You felt your face go hot, suddenly embarrassed. Hold on, you reasoned with yourself. Vil is a model too, along with some other Pomefiore students, so students modeling shouldn't be a shock to anyone!

But if the reason the magazines sold out so quickly was - that is, if Sam's not tricking you - because of your shoot, then why would anyone buy half of the entire stock? Especially at Sam's ridiculous prices.

You sighed; you'll figure this out later.

"I'm good, Sam. Thanks for the offer, but I've got to get going to my next class." You quickly backed away from Sam and ducked out the front door before he could cut you off with another suspicious offer.

"Come back anytime little imp!" The door swinging shut behind you as Sam big you goodbye.

God, was there a single good person in this school??

Wait, a realization suddenly hit you. The guy who bought half the magazines, was it-

——-

You practically stomped across the school, through the mirror room, and into the Octavinelle dorm.

You didn't lie to Sam earlier; you really did have to go to class. And then after four classes and nearly eight hours, you had to go to club. So, now it was practically late afternoon, and you were only now on your mission to hunt down the buyer of some 60+ magazines.

The moment you stepped inside Mostro Lounge, two tall, ominous figures seemed to materialize directly beside you.

"Hello Jade. Hey Floyd."

"Shrimpy!" Floyd exclaimed, before wrapping his long arms around your torso and squeezing tightly.

"Now now, Floyd," Jade smirked, "Let's not squeeze the life out of our little Prefect."

"I'm here to discuss some things with Azul." You told the two 6-foot-tall eels.

You must have sounded agitated because Floyd and Jade quickly took the hit and grabbed onto each of your arms respectively and dragged walked me to the VIP room.

"Now then, who are we to interfere with your business affairs?" Jade let go of your left arm to open the large, ornate VIP room doors.

"Only VIP access for our Shrimpy!" Floyd exclaimed, striding into the VIP room where some student was groveling on his hands and knees, begging Azul for something. I noticed that he had a small anemone sprouting from his head, looks like Azul got another freshman. Grinning, Floyd roughly grabbed the poor student by his shirt collar and unceremoniously threw him out the door.

Jade sinisterly smiled at the boy, before bending down to say something in a hushed tone, causing the boy to squeal and shuffle away frantically. Jade smirked, stood, and walked over to stand beside the seated and slightly flustered Azul, as Floyd slammed the doors.

For once, and to my astonishment, Azul, usually the pristine image of a savvy businessman, looked a little nervous.

You were surprised that he didn't even object to Floyd tossing his client (more likely his victim, given the anemone) out.

Azul pursued his lips and tented his fingers on the table, before taking a breath and seeming to regain his composure.

"Why, (Y/N), to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?"

Azul typically spoke formally and eloquently, but given your and his relationship as friends, his behavior was a little, unusual. Something smelled fishy, and it wasn't the fish swimming outside or the mermen in the room.

You chalked it up to your own misunderstanding of the situation, or to Azul already going into business mode to prepare for what was coming.

"I'm here about the Fleur magazines you bought."

For a brief second, the three (well, more like two, Floyd just seemed slightly humored) seemed to go pale. Azul gave you a blank stare, mouth slightly open, and Jade turned away to focus intently on the wall with a trace of a grimace on his face. Floyd chuckled and looked at Azul.

Weirdos. What is up with them today?

"You're reselling those Fleur magazines for a profit, aren't you?" You continued on.

A brief moment passed. Jade turned back to look at you and Azul quickly snapped back to reality with a small laugh and a smirk.

"Yes! Why, you deduce correctly, Prefect, I did buy the remaining stock in order to resell them. They're quite in high demand, given your popularity amongst the student body."

"I apologize if you wanted to buy one, but I couldn't miss such a lucrative and perfectly legal business opportunity!" Azul cloyingly apologized, gesturing with his hands in a show of mock apology.

Floyd and Jade nodded along in fake sincerity. Seems you guessed right after all.

"Okay, seeing that you're admitting it, I'm not really that mad. But, also, seeing that you're going to profit off my face, I have a proposal."

The three leaned forward. "Do go on," Azul nodded.

"I can sign my picture in one of the magazines, so you can ramp up the price, and, in return, I can get a free magazine."

"Done!" Azul exclaimed, magically flying over a contract to you. You have no idea how he managed to write one so fast, because it seemingly materialized out of thin air.

The contract wasn't wordy and there were no terms and conditions. You suppose it makes sense given how simple the agreement is, but it still seemed quite hasty.

Regardless, after reading it over twice - it is Azul after all - you signed, and Azul magically lifted the contract and pen into his hands and swiftly slid them into some drawer.

While you were reading the contract, Jade quietly ducked out before returning with two magazines in hand. He hovered over your shoulder, before flipping one magazine open to reveal one of your swimsuit model pictures and setting it on the table for you to sign.

You signed, although it felt a little weird autographing something, but it was best 'business' proposal you could come up with.

Jade handed you the other magazine and Azul stood up. You still find the height difference between him and Tweels humorous, although Azul was still taller than you, so you didn't have much room to judge.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, (Y/N), as always." Azul smiled, fumbling with something out of view in his desk drawer. "Have a good night."

"Want a drink Shrimpy?" Floyd inquired, placing an arm on your shoulder, turning you away from Azul.

"I would be more than happy to make something to your liking." Jade agreed, leading me out of the room. "On the house." He quickly added.

"As much as I'd love to, I have a tutoring session with Riddle. He saw my grade on last week's midterm and almost exploded on the spot."

"Aah, I haven't seen Goldfishy in a while." Floyd wondered aloud. "Hey, Shrimpy," He smiled, "Let me come with ya."

"Absolutely not," Jade remarked with a cold smile that did not reach his eyes, "You have a shift to work Floyd." You have always found the difference between their personalities amusing.

Remembering your appointment, you whipped out your phone to look at the time. Oh no. You had five minutes.

"Shit, I got to go, see you guys later!" You waved and ran off, terrified that you might actually witness Riddle explode this time.

"Goodbye, (Y/N)." "See ya, Shrimpy!"

Two sets of mismatched eyes intently followed you out the door.

------

"JADE." Azul practically screeched, slamming his hands on the table. "Do you know how BADLY that could have gone? Are you insane? You're lucky the prefect thought I was trying to resell them!"

"We're lucky." Jade corrected, carefully and meticulously removing pages from a Fleur magazine at a Mostro Lounge table. Azul threw his hands up in frustration.

"Hey, Azul, I never heard you objecting." Floyd rolled his eyes. "And why are you so embarrassed anyway; you're puffing up like a pufferfish."

"Well now, we have to sell the magazines." Azul huffed to himself and sat down besides Jade and the stack of magazines. "So, stop tearing the merchandise!"

"No." Jade snapped angrily. Realizing, Jade quickly collected himself and returned to his typical collected attitude, resuming his carefully removal of magazine pages, "There is a clear solution - we sell the magazines, just without certain pages featuring the prefect."

Azul stared, deadpan at Jade, clearly exasperated. "And just what are you going to do with half a hundred pictures of the prefect?"

"Remind me, who took one of the magazines after I bought them for 'personal use'?" Jade sneered, meeting Azul's stare, causing Azul to blush and begin stuttering excuses.

"I still don't get why we can't just tell Shrimpy." Floyd shrugged, leaning back in his chair, holding up one of the torn-out magazine pages of (Y/N) standing on a beach, hair blowing in the (fake) wind, dressed in a one-piece swimsuit, with a chic cover-up.

"Absolutely not!" Jade and Azul shouted in unison.

Thankfully, the Mostro Lounge was closed, and no one could hear the three mermen squabbling late into the night.

[teaboot]

Looking for advice on etiquette from folks with visual disabilities

When I'm at work at this one location, I try to nod or wave or smile at employees I'm friendly with as we pass each other.

One employee has a vision issue of some kind and uses a guide cane, and I figure they frobably don't have much sight at all cause their eyes are usually closed.

When I pass them in the hall, I usually say "Hi, [name]" and wish them a good day.

It has just now occurred to me that they know more people here than I do and when I say hello, there is a chance they may not know which person I am.

It doesnt matter that much I guess, but is this a legitimate concern? Should I say who I am at some point in case they've forgotten me or don't recognize who I am, or does it not really matter much? Would that just be presumptive and condescending? Should I assume we're all good until they voice an issue?

Then again, I'm kinda faceblind and I usually just assume someone I don't recognize is someone who knows me from wherever, and shrug it off until the answer reveals itself.

Im not dead set on cementing friendships here but they're really nice and fun to talk to so I wouldn't mind being work friends if that's on the table

What's good sighted person / non-sighted etiquette? Am I overthinking this?

Blease

[minarisplaything]

Gala Gal ft. Blackpink Rosé

pairing: Rosé x male reader rating: Explicit wordcount: 2.8k prompt: a young journalist gets a chance of a lifetime with Rosé at a recent event.

Being a writer for a celebrity magazine has its advantages, such as getting to attend grand events like the Cannes Film Festival, or in this case, the MET Gala. Now you might think, where's the fun or excitement in that? A bunch of rich people dressed in overpriced clothing and posing on the red carpet while you have to ask them redundant questions that no one truly cares about outside a small niche of fans.

That is a reasonable question to ask, and a fair point to make. Hell, there are times when you wonder to yourself just how legitimate of a job this is. You certainly hear that question from your parents enough. But the answer to all of those questions comes from the woman currently walking towards you.

"Thank you for your time," you say to the current girl in front of you.

You have been interviewing some girl who is apparently 'the next Olivia Rodrigo,' which is a wild title to have, but you digress. As you bid her good-bye, a sudden chorus of "Rosé! Rosé over here!" erupts from the group of photographers, followed by a series of flashing light bulbs.

Your eyes flick over to the red carpet area near you to see none other than the 26-year-old starlet, Roseanne Park. Otherwise known as Rosé from Blackpink.

You have never crossed paths with her at any events you have covered; which you just toss up to bad luck or god punishing you for some crime you can’t remember. Either way, it seems like you will finally be getting your chance. Judging from this distance, she is just as beautiful as she appears in all her photos.

Her blonde hair is flowing down her back while loose bangs frame her face as she smiles for the camera. She is wearing a black dress that is form-fitting at the top, held together by two thin straps, and flares outwards at the waist. Frankly, she looks stunning. It is a classy dress that still manages to spark arousal in you. Though, you will keep that last part to yourself.

It is only a few moments later that you have to compose yourself as the press woman directs Rosé towards your vicinity. Adjusting your stance, and growing erection, you cough and put on a friendly smile as she walks over.

"Hi, I'm with Eros Magazine," you introduce yourself, managing to remain composed.

"Rosie, it’s nice to meet you," she says sweetly. She is even more beautiful up close, and that smile is practically paralyzing. Given that you don't trust your tongue at the moment, you decide to keep it simple.

"So how are you tonight?" you question, knowing how many times she must have answered it already.

"I'm great! It's a little cold tonight, but I'm excited to be here," she starts in her accented voice. "I love the Museum of Arts and supporting a good cause is always great. There are so many beautiful dresses and people here. So it's all feeling great right now!" she says, remaining smiling and bubbly throughout her answer.

For your part, you merely nod your head and smile, holding the recorder up to get every word. You go through the litany of typical red carpet questions: what projects are you working on, how's the music coming; all the typical things you could hand in to your editor when a story is due. You can see the press woman getting antsy though. Typical. Figuring you only have one or two questions left, you decide to venture out a bit.

"So, you're going to be going on tour again soon, that must be exciting..."

"It is! You're actually the first one to bring that up all night," she says, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"I do like to do my homework beforehand," you joke with a grin before continuing, "That being said, how do you manage to have fun and unwind? Even at these events, you have to keep a certain image, right?"

Rosé is quiet at first, and for a moment, she glances around as if to check that the coast is clear before she answers, "Oh, you know the girls and I find out ways to have fun. And this is actually my third year at the Gala, so I’ve found the little tricks and ways to have some fun."

There is something about the way she looks at you as she speaks that screams there is more than meets the eye to her words. Maybe it is the coy tone to her voice or the glint in her eye as she smiles. Whatever it is, you suddenly find yourself wondering exactly what ‘some fun' entails.

"By the way," Rosé says, interrupting your thoughts, "Eros Magazine...as in the Greek word for erotic love?"

Again she fixes you with that mischievous grin.

"Uh — yeah. Nice catch," you stammer, causing her to giggle.

"I like it" she says, a look you can’t read in her eye. Before you can ask anything further, the press woman begins to nudge her on to the next reporter. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too, have a good one," you reply, watching her intently as she walks away.

If that is your first and last interaction with the K-pop star, then you can say it has been interesting if nothing else. You get the feeling there is more to that little minx than meets the eye, you are only disappointed that you’d likely never get the chance to delve a bit further.

Covering the event means that you gain access to the party but hardly anyone does any real reporting. After all, these kinds of events are meant for the rich and famous.  To cement their status as celebrities, they then sneak off inside to where they can have their fun. For the most part, you reporters stay together, talk, and drink the free liquor that is available.

You expect your night will be spent at the bar, winding your time down until it reaches an acceptable time to call it a night. But first things first, if you are going to be here on the company dime, you might as well get your money's worth.

"I've been looking for you all night!"

You are in the middle of ordering yet another drink when a familiar accented voice reaches your ears. Turning in your stool, you lay your eyes on Roseanne Park for the second time tonight, only this time there is something a little more...loose to her demeanor. You get an explanation when you spot the glass in her hands and briefly wonder how many she had at this point.

"Me? You must be confused," you say, both amused, curious, and a bit confused, "I don't think anyone at this party has said I’m wanted."

"Well, you are!" she says, smiling as she moves towards you, "And now that I've found you, I have something to show you."

"Don't you have famous friends to entertain?" you question more than protest as she places her drink on the bar and takes your hand.

You catch a glimpse of a hint of a pout on her features, "Don’t worry, they’re occupied." Again, there is that suggestion that something more is going on. Of course, there is the very realistic possibility that your mind is just running away with crazy, erotic theories. But that potential doesn’t stop you from being any more turned on by the thought. Coupled with the fact that Rosé is dragging you through a gala to god-knows-where and you are practically dreaming. In that moment, she could take you to hell for all you care.

"You're going to love it, trust me," she assures, looking back at you as she continues leading.

"Oh, I’m sure," you reply. Your mind is racing with things from a blow job to taking her from behind, so needless to say, you are a bit disappointed when she stops at your destination.

"A photo booth?" you ask, a bit amused at how silly it seems.

Rosé is either undeterred or doesn’t register your lack of enthusiasm as she simply nods, still smiling and pulling you into the booth.

“It's fun! Come on," the blonde insists, pulling you by the hand into the photo booth. Judging by the size of it, the booth is clearly an afterthought to the gala planners, or maybe it just isn’t meant for two people at the same time to occupy it. You do your best to squeeze yourself in so she can close the curtain behind you. To your surprise, Rosé neatly slides onto your lap, her perfect, tight ass sitting right on top of where your hard-on has been growing for the last couple of minutes.

"Alright, so it takes six photos then prints them out there," she points to the deposit box under the screen. She either doesn't feel the bulge pressing firmly against her ass, or she is very good at playing naive.

"Okay," you nod, as if you are bothering to pay any attention to the pictures. 

As she shimmies on your lap to get into a better position, you decide to be bold and snake your arm around her slim waist, only to receive no complaints from the pop star. A countdown shows up on the screen, and when it says CHEESE, Rosé throws her arms around you, smiling openly as you try and fail not to look too bewildered. The screen replays your photo, and you can’t help but laugh at your own expense.

"Not bad," you grin, as the counter starts for the second photo.

"Not bad, but I think we can do better!" she says with a determined look on her face. When the screen says CHEESE again, Rosé suddenly leans over and licks the side of your face. You are so surprised you don't know how you react until the photo replays.

"Oh my god! That's great!" Rosé laughs.

You take the next few photos in the same fashion, going for ridiculous and silly in each one. After every photo, Rosé would shift her weight on your lap, rubbing against your erection each time. You are certain that she has to be well aware of what she is doing, and by the time the countdown for the last photo appears, you have made up your mind.

When the screen flashes, you turn Rosé's head to you and push your lips flush against hers. To your surprise, it takes less than half a second for her to respond, her hands moving up to cup your face. You kiss passionately like that until the simple need for air breaks you apart.

"I was starting to think all my work was for nothing," she says, a devilish grin on her face.

You raise an eyebrow at her; apparently, all your theories have just been confirmed. "You planned all this then?"

"I told you we know how to have our fun at these things," she comments, twirling a strand of hair in her finger.

"We?"

Mischief gleams in her gaze for a moment, “Maybe later. I know you’re a reporter, but you shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

She places a delicate finger to your lips as she gets up off your lap. The low ceiling of the booth doesn't allow her to stand up fully, but she doesn't have to as she crouches and reaches under her dress and begins pulling down her panties. "Fuck...these things are definitely ruined. I practically soaked them."

Her comment is more to herself than you, but your cock only grows harder at the revelation. You watch as she slides her thong down past her ankles, and her eyes fall to your crotch. With nimble fingers, she works on your button and zipper, springing free your aching cock.

 "Oh wow..." she mutters, eyeing it with an animalistic hunger. "I would love to wrap my lips around that..."

"You're more than welcomed to," you groan, starting to get that sense of teasing with the amount of anticipation that is building. You are tempted to just force her head onto your cock, but you stop short when she speaks.

"Later. We don't have a lot of time."

Your disappointment at that statement is short-lived as she stands again and turns around. Rosé lifts her skirt and hovers over your lap. Grabbing hold of your member, you let out a groan as she positions it at her entrance, rubbing it for a second in her dripping juices. Unable to hold out, you thrust your hips slightly upward, causing your tip to pierce her folds.

"Mmm, somebody's anxious," she purrs, her accent coming out thick.

"Can you fucking blame me?" you say through gritted teeth, reaching out to grab her waist. Before you can yank her down, she beats you to it and spears herself on your rod. "Oh fuck," you let out, feeling how tight her petite body is.

"God, you feel fucking amazing," you mutter into her shoulder.

"Ah~...and you're...much bigger than you look," she says, clearly trying to adjust to the size she just filled herself with in one go. Apparently, the discomfort isn't so bad as she soon begins lifting and dropping herself on your cock slowly. "Try not—ooh— to get too loud," she moans out, her ass rocking against you.

"Speak for yourself," you grunt, your hands gripping her waist firmly as you start to move your hips to match the movement of hers.

You can't wrap your head around the fact that you're fucking a member of one of the most famous girl groups in the world in a photobooth at a gala with hundreds of celebrities. Thankfully, you don't need to wrap your head around it, as long as you keep fucking her. With that in mind, you take control of the pace, gripping her waist and forcing yourself up into her. Each time you spear her pussy, it's like another piece of heaven. Her pussy is squeezing you like there's no tomorrow, only increasing the pleasure you get with each thrust.

"Shit, yes, yes! Fuck me," Rosé chants in a loud whisper as she puts her hand on the console to steady herself as you thrust up into her.

"God, you're fucking tight," you moan, continuing to pound her Australian pussy. "Someone could look in here at any second."

"Oooh, I know," she lets out a shuddering breath.

"You're getting off on that, aren't you?" you continue the dirty talk, sliding a strap off her shoulder so you can push her top down to fondle her pert breast.

"Yes, yes! It fucking turns me on," Rosé pants.

For a moment, you fear she has given you away, but you're too far gone to truly care at this point. Her hands slide down the console, and you're only aware of what happens when the shutter of the camera makes you look up. Looking over Rosé's shoulder as she bounces up and down, you see your photo displayed, Rosé's mouth opened in pleasure.

Grinning to yourself, you increase the speed of your thrusts, determined to get her orgasm face by the last photo.

"OH!" she squeals, surprised by your sudden turn of action. "Oh fuck, right there. Keep going," she pants, her hand covering yours and holding it firmly against her breast.

You squeeze firmly, shoving every inch of your meat deep into her snatch. Her lithe body arches back into you. She's panting heavily, each thrust causing her to take a sharp breath. You turn her head towards you and kiss her, her hand gripping the back of your head. It's sloppy and passionate, perfectly fitting the current heated moment that is occurring.

"I'm close. I'm so fucking close," Rosé chants, continuing to grip your head as she moves her hips to yours.

A few moments later, you have to cover her mouth with your hand as she shrieks her orgasm. Her walls clench around you as she comes, her juices flooding your cock.

"I'm going to cum," you warn, knowing you aren't going to last through her orgasm.

"Mmmph," Rosé says, until you remove your hand, "In me! Cum inside me!"

You don't take a second to question it, instead thrusting your hips upward, your cock pushing into her one last time as you empty rope after rope of your seed into her womb. You continue unloading into the star for what seems like eternity until you both finally collapse in the booth. Her body heaves on top of yours as she tries to catch her breath.

"I don't think I've ever cum that hard before," you pant, causing the Blackpink singer to giggle.

"Don't speak too soon," she says, leaning back and kissing you softly on the lips. Thinking of what she could have planned only causes your cock to twitch inside her with anticipation.

One thing is for certain: this girl certainly knows how to have fun.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

[likearhinestonecowgirl]

Deadpool Headcanons

cw:: mentions of sex and violence. it's wade lol

description:: goddess reader, wade is your boyfriend >:)

a/n:: wade and i are married irl so this is straight from the source

Wade likely meets you first. which is a nice way of saying he's been stalking you after having a legitimate romcom, slow motion, wind only in HIS (metaphorical) hair moment

once he finally introduces himself, your aggravation only leads (turns) him on

your way of cooing condescending, violent things as you accost this clown(?) sets it in stone - your the love of his fucking life

You shove Wade against the nearest wall. "I'm sure you're a.. special kid, but let's put on our listening caps." Your eyes practically pierce his soul, unblinking, pupils narrow and frustrated. "Go ahead." You release him and pat his head like an order. "On." You wait a beat, make sure he's listening- at least to the best of his ability. "Get in my way again and I will turn you into a fucking vegetable." You whisper yell, hardly realizing your nails are biting his jaw through his mask. "Thank you." With a curt grin and pat to his cheek, you saunter past him.

He grunts as he’s slammed against the wall, staring down at you with furrowed brows and a slowly growing grin. “This is not how my first dates usually go but I’m game.” He blurts out before you start speaking. He tilts his head at the mention of a listening cap, looking down at his hands as if one will materialize before you let him go. He blinks slowly and mimes putting a hat on before his head is shoved back against the wall at the force of your sudden grasp. He grins quickly at the fleeting feeling of nails sinking into flesh, chest heaving a touch before he mourns the loss of the sting almost instantly. As his skin stitches itself back together, he rouses himself from his starry eyed haze and starts after you. “How do you feel about Tahiti—maybe Turks and Caicos, I can’t exactly tan, but I feel like I can just sit out and burn.” He rambles, hot on your heels as he takes a selfish look of you before returning to the task at hand. What was it again? Right—planning your honeymoon. “How do you feel about hydrangeas, they smell like shit but, we could always settle for tulips.” He stops for a beat before continuing. “Fuck, you’re a great negotiator. Fine, we can do orchids.”

Wade is nothing if not good at wearing people down. that's how he eventually gets you to start laughing at his jokes, to smile cheekily instead of burning him with your stare or the venom in your tone

his personality is infectious and soon enough you two are attached at the hip

Despite his CVS receipt of red flags, Wade is a really good boyfriend

Wade is surprisingly attentive, but you truly are the most interesting, beautiful, sexy, delicious, thing that has ever graced his sorry fucking existence so how could he not spend his life fixating on you

he picks up on all the little things you like and goes out of his way to keep you smiling - only happy, fucked out tears are allowed for his girl

you can conjure up whatever you like, being a god, so his money is reserved for surprises - ringpops whenever the last is finished, food because you likely don't know how to cook (why learn when you can will a three course meal into life with a snap of your fingers) and Wade is banned from every kitchen for obvious reasons, and merch of himself with his moniker, name, and/or his symbol on it

Wade can be possessive and jealous to a degree, so showing you off is one of his greatest pleasures

if you wear his hoodie or a little pair of sleep shorts or panties with his name on it, the poor fuck will actually combust. should've worn his white pants

any time you go literally anywhere and meet someone new (ie dragging him along and making him pay for stuff) Wade takes the opportunity to make it known you are his

"Oh, have you met my WIFE?"

He beams to the cashier at the luxury store who truly thought they were about to robbed.

"Yea, she's my WIFE. We're MARRIED. It was a crisp afternoon and she threw me against the wall-"

All while his arm is secured around you, holding you to his side as he thumbs over your hip bone.

he'll likely say you're married before you even start enjoying his company. the moment you accept that unwrapped ring pop definitely covered in blood and lint, those metaphorical documents are signed. it's set in stone like the 11th fucking commandment. you'll be together forever

and you just go along with it. why not? being immortal gets boring after a few millenniums and this strange, poor mentally challenged man in spandex is pretty fun having around

the whole married bit goes on for so long you're not even sure if it's still a bit anymore

Wade uses the sanctity of your marriage in any situation - another guy with a gun on some mission copping a feel? "I'M MARRIED". someone brushes past him on the street? "I'M MARRIED". sees anyone look a little too long at you? "SHE'S MARRIED"

he'd kill and die for you over and over again. say the word and it's a done deal. that hypothetical guy who checked you out a little too long got a face full of gloved knuckles

want to keep his dick in a jar because Wade Jr. obviously brings you so much joy? say less. he knows a guy who can get him formaldehyde cheap

if Wade isn't busy showing you off in public, he's arguing with strangers on reddit about how you very much are his real life WIFE

ilovechappelroan: That's photoshop.

mercwithamouth1: it's not we took that picture together and her tits r real

webhead123: i think it's AI generated. see the blurry line where his cheek is apparently pressed against her head?

ilovechappelroan: Yea, mods should take this down.

mercwithamouth1: i have ur ip and im omw over she'll tell u herself WE ARE MARRIED and she will dox u bc she LOVES ME

webhead123: okay???? i already know where i live lol

"Hold this." Wade orders with a pouty huff and camera at the ready as he hands you a paper that reads i'm not a hostage don't ask me to blink twice

you two bicker and argue over random things (usually because you enjoy a reason to complain as it passes the time in your literally endless existence), but it's never anything of substance and usually under a veil of something condescending any sly

these stupid, teasing spats 9 times out of 10 end up with Wade soothing your brattiness by cooing little phrases and pulling you onto him in any way he can

"Don't pout, you're so sexy- fuck, I can't stay mad at you- what if I let you peg me?"

Wade doesn't mind this routine at all. it's just another reason for him to get his hands on you

he loves holding you, feeling the weight of your body against his - throwing you over his shoulder when you're being a brat, carrying you all day because his girl is "just too pretty walk", sat on his lap, chest, face (when he's been *really* good)

he'll do virtually anything to have you praise him, call yourself mommy and go on about how much of a good boy he is

he in turn responds to that comfort with a few pet names of his own - sweetheart, cupcake, the wind beneath my wings, my will to live or his favorite my future baby mama

nothing in the universe, not even the shittiest of writers he's handed, could take him away from you

he's content just having you, knowing you're his - BUT he does have a little fantasy he's shared a few hundred time of really having you. a pretty thing, a trophy who sits at home and waits for him to walk through the door covered in blood and guts. you can't go outside, it's just not safe out there for his baby, so he'll always be with you. dress you in nice things, show you off, shower you in affection, heed your every whim. you'd be slaves to each other

and why would you protest? sounds fun

[banquetwriter]

can u write a smut of an insecure plus sized goth reader x johnnie please? she's a virgin and after being together for a few months she asks him could they do it, and he eats her out n fucks her n stuff 🙏🙏 make it really soft pls and thank u i love ur work btw 🖤🖤

୨୧ Batty love ୨୧

pairing: Johnnie Guilbert ♡︎ goth!fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ smut, losing virginity, getting eaten out, general shenanigans

summary: ʚ johnnie isn’t gonna let you being inexperienced stop him from devouring you ɞ

Words: 2234

An: i know this isn't the best but I'm legitimately do sick rn 😞

SUPPORT ME

You haven't stopped looking at your phone for at least two days. Johnnie, your boyfriend, had just hard-launched your relationship for the first time on Instagram. And to your shock, 95% of the comments were so positive. Everyone complimented your goth appearance.

This much praise was addicting. Being plus size meant a lot of insecurities made by the pathetic losers of society. There were of course a few nice comments… those weren't the ones you kept staring at. Criticizing your looks or body.

Johnnie had warned you about this happening, and you promised him the world knowing about you two was worth it, and it was, but god did it hurt. Johnnie Was out streaming with Jake today so that left you alone for a good few hours.

It was useless trying to wait around crying over some loser online who couldn't handle the fact their celebrity crush didn't pick them. You sat up rubbing your face carefully not trying to hit your piercings at all. You scrolled around on your phone’s playlist before connecting to a speaker.

You started to shift through your closet to come up with an outfit. Maybe you and Johnnie could go out tonight? It was hard to get dressed in full goth normally, especially when you weren't feeling good about yourself.

You settled on a long black skirt with silver shiny bats that were sporadically speckled on it and paired it with an ‘i ❤️ emo boys’ t-shirt with a corset. You put your outfit on by pairing your black stockings and fishnet top for your arms.

You sat down at your desk singing along to your beloved playlist. You turned your light on your mirror searching for your hair clips. You managed to locate them by clipping your hair out of your face. Your music was briefly interrupted by a text notification.

You pick up your phone and it is from Johnnie, ‘should be done soon. Just filmed for Jake's, we're gonna do mine now. Probably just dick around Walmart or something. See you soon love 🖤’ you smiled at his text.

You responded back within seconds ‘Have fun filming (but not too much fun without me lol) 🖤🖤’

You sat your phone down, adjusting your shirt, and you started on your makeup. You put on primer, then foundation, the concealer, and to finish your base off you pack on some powder letting it sit on your face. You pulled out your phone and snapped a selfie of your half-done make-up.

You stuck your tongue off a little for the picture. You posted it on your main Instagram story with a goth song of course. Your Instagram gained quite a few followers from Johnnie’s post. It was exciting and also very scary.

You decided the powder baking on your face was about done so you brushed it off. You grabbed your contour brush and packed some onto it. You started to carve your face onto the white base using the black powder.

Now it was time for your eye makeup. It was the hardest part. You spent a good while meticulously adding your eyeliner and eyeshadow. Once you were done, sufficiently looking like a bat, you finished it off with black lipstick and some setting spray.

You put on accessories and teased your hair to high heaven. And you were all ready. You sprayed some perfume on and looked in the mirror. Fuck did you look good. You posed a little admiring yourself, you took your phone out again and decided to take a few pictures.

This time you posted them as posts and not a story so anyone could say anything. It scared you but you couldn't hide forever. You were dating Johnnie and no one could change that.

It took only a few minutes before the comments came rolling in. All of which were positive, it made your heart soar with all the compliments. You were smiling until you read one: ‘Johnnie eating good tonight’ . It was a nice comment and funny naturally.

There was just one issue. You and Johnnie haven't had sex yet, and furthermore, you have never had sex. Ever. Sure you used a few toys here and there but never has another person shared such an intimate moment with you. You had already worried yourself sick about this. Johnnie Was sexually active and therefore, inevitably he would want to have sex with you.

You were ready… you think at least. You wanted to, of course you did, have you seen your boyfriend? He was such a fucking hottie. You had plenty of dreams of ripping his clothes off and going under the covers. You were just nervous.

You did actually weigh a lot more than your boyfriend and no offense to him he wasn't exactly built to handle all you could offer. The nerves rattled through your body. But you were a full-grown woman and there wasn't anything wrong with taking your time to have sex.

If Johnnie didn't understand that (which you're sure he would) then this wasn't the relationship for you. You shook your thoughts of breaking up with Johnnie away. This wasn't a time to worry.

It was only a few more minutes before Johnnie came home. He stepped into your apartment, and he stopped when looking at you. His jaw faltered open. “Wow, how are you mine?” he asked, closing the door, his hands wrapping around your waist.

“From your strapping good looks and charm of course.” you purred, moving a strand of his hair from his face. You planted a small kiss on his now-exposed skin. “Yeah sure,” he murmured against your hair, planting a small kiss on the top of your head.

You smiled at him, your eyes holding each other. His eyes seem to almost darken looking at you. You pull him into a kiss, one he gladly returns. His hands are holding onto your corseted waist. Even through the thick fabric, you can feel him clutching your body.

Your kisses got more heated as he started to move his hands down your body. You had done this with him before. It didn't scare you much anymore. Of course it was nerve-racking, but not scary. His touch felt so nice even if it was through your clothes.

He slowly moaned into your mouth as you gently tugged his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered slowly pulling away from you. He wrapped his hands into your pulling you towards your couch. Your nerves jumped into your throat knowing what was coming.

And yes you wanted to so fucking bad, you needed your hot boyfriend inside you. He gently pushed you onto the couch, you fell back ruining your cute decorative pillows. He positions himself between your legs, his mouth hungry to devour all of you.

You wanted to enjoy him you really did but your heart was pounding out of your chest with nerves. “Johnnie-” you asked quietly against his lips. He pulled back sensing your worry. “We haven't done anything yet-” you started, unsure how to keep going you stayed silent.

“It's fine if you don't wanna, you know, tonight.” he spoke softly, “No trust me I want to. It's just that I've never done that before. I've never had sex before.” you confessed. You could see his eyes widen. You felt like you were holding his breath.

“Woah, really?” he asked, leaning towards you, a small cheeky smile plastered on his lips. “Yeah, not that I’m waiting for marriage or something but I don't know I just haven't yet,” you said shrugging. “That's ok, are you still down to or?” he asks, staring at you sheepishly.

“Of course I am, I just need you to be slow I guess,” you whispered to him. He glances at your lips for a minute, “I can do that.” he says before your lips crash onto one another.

His hand crept down to your ankle and slowly started to run his hand up your legs, he reached the end of your stocking. He hooked his fingers over the clothing and pulled them off your body repeating it for your other leg.

He looked into your eyes as he slipped his hands back under your skirt, hooking delicate fingers over your panties and slowly pulling them off your body. The feeling of his hands on your thighs was sending waves of pleasure to your core.

You've been horny before but nothing compared to the feelings you felt as your boyfriend slowly lowered to his knees. Kissing up and down your legs. “Are you doing ok?” he asks between kisses up your thighs.

“Y-yeah I'm good,” you said quietly, eyes watching Johnnie like a hawk. He smirks against your skin. He slowly pushes your skirt up your body revealing your bare legs. He placed a tender kiss on the top of your cunt.

You swore you could see stars with the amount of pleasure That coursed through you. The end of your fingers and toes felt tingly and cold. Johnnie moved up to face again, he slowly started to kiss you again. “M’gonna move my hand now. Like my fingers ok?” he said against your lips.

“Ok,” you whispered back, and you spread your legs widely for him. He slowly dipped his finger into your sopping cunt. You let out a gasp at the sensation. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you. It felt good but it wasn't enough for you.

As if Johnnie could read your mind, he pumped out of you once again. When he entered back in he had two fingers this time. It stung for a second or two then pleasure returned to your body as he started to curve his finger into you.

“Oh fuck.” you moaned out, you can guess how people get addicted to this feeling. You felt like a little pervy teenager with raging hormones. The feeling of Johnnie hitting your G-spot repeatedly was sending you over the edge.

“Johnnie.” you mewled out, to nothing in particular. “I need more please,” you begged, having a sense of missing something. “If you insist on it my love.” he pulled out of you, his fingers dripping wet. You watched as he crouched down further.

He kissed slowly on your thighs before reaching your clit. He pressed a soft kiss right on your spot. You felt yourself clench over nothing and it drove you wild. He continued kissing down until he reached your hole. He slowly prodded his tongue into you.

Very gently at first to help you get used to the feeling. You felt the pleasure tenfold as soon as he began to rub your clit, fully pumping his tongue in and out of you. “Oh fuck hold on,” you murmured to him.

He stopped cocking his head slightly. You quickly snap off your corset, immediately releasing tension in your gut. You quickly pulled your shirt off, your bra going with it.

You were now naked minus the skirt bunched up around your waist. “M’fuck.” he whispered looking at your tits. He had what looked like a painful erection at this point. His skinny jeans looked like they were gonna burst open.

“You ready?” you asked him, gesturing to his painfully hard erection. “Fuck yeah,” he whined undoing his studded belt, he started to further undress himself. You followed suit pushing your skirt down.

Once he was completely naked, he leaned down and started to kiss you again. He wrapped his hand around his cock and pumped a few times attempting to get ready for your body. After about a minute he lined up his leaking cock to your entrance.

He slowly pushed into you. You let out a wanton gasp as he bottomed out. “Fuck.” he growled into your ear. He fumbled around trying to find your hand and brought it down to your clit. You started to rub to your pleasure.

At the same time, he started to push into you slowly at first then after a minute he began to push into you at a quicker pace. “Fuck your so tight. So glad I get this pussy all to myself,” he whined into your ear. You couldn't hold yourself anymore. The coil in your stomach was going to snap.

You felt The familiar feeling bubbling in your stomach and your limbs. “Im gonna fucking cum.” you whined out, grabbing at his torso and leaving a long scratch. Johnnie held your eye contact nodding at you.

The coil finally snapped, your walls clenching around him. “Johnnie-” you whined, your back arching. Your body shaking from your orgasm, sent him completely over the edge.

Hit ropes of cum splattered inside you as he fucked you through his own orgasm. Your breath slowly returned back to your body as you saw Johnnie cleaning your body up with a damp towel.

“Are you ok?” he asked quietly, tossing the rag into the laundry basket. He misses but he just took his girlfriend's virginity so he isn't particularly worried about where it landed. “Yeah I'm fucking great right now actually,” you murmured.

He giggles pulling his clothes back on. You did the same, pulling out your phone to see your makeup completely fucked. Your eyeliner and mascara dripped down, the sweat sucking your makeup into your skin, your lipstick beyond fucked.

You pulled out your phone and snapped one last photo for your Instagram

[tomorrowsgardennc]

market update // national seed swap day 2025

geeeeez i have so many notifications here, i guess i really haven't been on here in a hot minute. it has been nuts prepping for my first *major* seed swap, and it legit was a major one. but now that it has been a week, i think i'm finally starting to catch up with things. but i want to share with y'all before i forget all my mental notes and stories!!

i personally took so very few photos, because after 5 minutes in i was SWAMPED!! there was a line the entire 2 hours of the swap, and at the end of the market we had to tape off the seed swap portion in order to pack up! i was genuinely only expecting a steady stream of curious people, but it was shoulder to shoulder people, courtiosuly helping one another find varieties of this or that and everyone talking and asking questions!

now for setup... i had myself, my farmer mama (sooo happy she was able to make it!!), a local community garden captain who i asked to volunteer so he could promote his community and network a bit himself, another fellow plant vendor at the market, and one other volunteer who knew nothing about gardening but LOVES to organized. and y'all... i could not have asked for a better team to help me. farmer mama helped me keep my panic attacks away from so many people in one place... the community garden captain helped put a smile on everyone's face and giving the regulars new info, the fellow vendor was acting like she was a salesman and got so many seeds flying off the tables by answering sooooo many questions, and the last volunteer kept all the tables nice and tidy throughout the swap and refilled when space opened up. it was truly amazing.

we had a total of 25 feet of table space, and every table was jam packed with seeds. i brought approx. 1,375 seed packets (+/- a few dozen between added donos the morning of and me shipping some out the week before). but the thing is... the tables never got empty because of the amount we also had donated back! we had books and nursery containers too. i left with more books than what i arrived with, and all the nursery containers were gone by end of the swap. which is good because i don't need any more of those 😅

i think, with the seeds donated day of, that there were more seeds saved personally than open seed packets than i expected. now, sadly, i'm going to have to get the word out that labeling seeds as "pumpkin" is... well... not all too helpful for anyone. but i have 350ish days to get that word out before the next seed swap. and i plan to! just... need to wind down from this event first, mentally.

ok so, i know that part of my autism is me legit not being able to grasp certain concepts of emotions... even with hubs best efforts i still can't understand empathy. but i also... ok sorry this is hard to explain so it'll be written poorly... but a ton of people kept congratulating me??? saying what i did was a "true accomplishment" and i "knocked this out of the part" and "you succeeded!!" but... this wasn't about me???? i didn't do this for me. i did this for everyone who needs food. for those who have been too scared to try and start seeds before. who have tried before but trying again was too high of an investment. i didn't do this for my benefit, nor for marketing, or anything. the community garden captain gained more social media followers than me, and that's EXACTLY what i wanted!! one woman, dressed as though she was just barely getting by, legitimately broke out into tears when she picked up one envelope, dug through her purse and asked how much and i said "everything on these tables are free!" she said thank you a few times before she couldn't hold it in and grabbed a few more packets and left. congratulate HER on having the means go grow when it obviously means so much to her! congratulate ao many others who now won't have to worry about how they're going to afford a garden this year when bills are so tight! i don't know... maybe i'm missing something. just... i don't need a pat on the back for helping people. this should be the norm, bar minimum, not an accomplishment.

...

anyway... notes for next year:

- have a better donation system. turns out a lot of people were putting the seeds on the table that they brought, and nobody realized it, so i couldn't properly thank those people when they did.

- make sure to get more companies to donate. i had 7 companies donate, but renee's garden donated over 600 seed packets alone while every other company was, like, 50 maximum. we are going to need quite a lot more next year...

- still debating on switching my company to non-profit or not. i've talked to an "official non-profit consultant" at the local community college but she didn't really answer my questions about my type of business. i'm definitely not doing any of this for money, but i need more funding if i want to make seed swaps not only bigger but in more locations, both in person and online. and i have soooo many ideas on how to do so. i just need to figure out the best way to do so, legally. i'm just scared of messing some sort of legal paperwork or taxes up when i switch to non-profit.

- try and get the same volunteer team. i could not have done it without them.

- grow. grow grow grow and grow.

that last note is for you, too.

just grow 🌱

[joelmillerlover123]

Need You Now | JOEL MILLER X READER

One shot! Inspired by Need You Now by Lady A. so much angst. our emo king.

Summary : You came home drunk and you just needed to call your ex. Of course he came over.

Word count : Like 1k.

Pre/No Outbreak AU. Fem!Reader sorta. Emo!Joel. Crying!Joel. Yeahhhh buddy.

So sad so heartwarming.

You knew it was a mistake to let your friends drop you off at your house after a night out. Once you were alone, you were no longer a happy drunk. You cried about the weirdest things. But tonight, you were crying for a legitimate reason. You remembered why sober you went out that night.

Pictures from your previous relationship were scattered around your room, you were cleaning out him from your life. Your heart lurched. You saw his handsome face in the pictures, touching a gentle thumb over his smile. You felt the tears pool in your eyes, threatening to spill over.

What the hell? Why can’t you call him?

Your friends aren’t here and they don’t have to know.

You fish your phone from your purse, typing his name into the contacts bar. The line begins ringing and within one ring he picks up, an on edge “Hello?” greeting you. You forgot the time. Quarter past one. He probably thought you were in jail or stranded on the side of the road somewhere, you never called this late.

“Hey Joel,” You tried to say without letting your breath shake, “It’s fine. I’m fine, I'm just…”

“Yeah,” He said, finishing your thought, “I know. I miss you, too.”

“Well, come over, will you?” You bit your lip, anxiety tearing at you. What if he said no? You couldn’t stand it.

Silence filled the other line and you almost said something else but he said, “‘Course. Be there in five. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” You say, letting the words hang in the air on your end, only taking the phone from your ear when he eventually hangs up. You didn’t even care that this wasn’t the ‘right’ thing to do, you just needed him. And now.

The two of you broke up for stupid reasons. Stupid in your mind. Not stupid in his. He said he was ‘taking your future from you.’ He was always so worked up about the age gap. It was only like 15 or so years, nothing crazy. He said he didn’t want any more kids, which is fine with you. Really. You didn’t care. You loved Sarah and the both of them would always be enough for you. But Joel wasn’t convinced. It was always a sore spot in your relationship and when he finally broke things off because of it, there were a lot of tears from both ends.

A knock on the front door of your apartment alerted you that he was here. He refused to text you when he was here.

“Why would I send a text when I can just knock like a normal person?” His words echoed in your head from your first couple dates. It earned a laugh from you, loving his old southern values.

You open the door and there he is, in all his beautiful glory. He was so beautiful. You could never get over it.

He saw the tears in your eyes and his look went from his usual stoic and stony to concerned in a flash. “Hey,” He said softly, “What’s wrong, darlin?” He moved to take you in his arms, kicking the door closed behind him.

“Just… missin you,” You replied. You realized you still had your going out clothes on. A black lacy tank top and blue jean shorts. Your makeup was heavy but never dark. You knew your mascara was probably running.

“Hey, hey,” He said, embracing you and letting your cheek rest on his chest, “Don’t get all worked up over me.”

You pulled back to look at him, searching his eyes. “Joel. Of course I’m gonna get ‘worked up’ over you. I miss you. So much,” You said with as much seriousness as the tequila would let you muster.

“I know. I’m sorry,” He said, tucking a hair from your face, “But you won’t miss me forever.”

Silence came between the two of you. An understanding that he won’t listen, the stubborn bastard.

“You’ll move on, eventually,” He said quietly, “Find you a nice guy, a nice young man. He’ll be responsible and kind and will take care of you. If he’s smart, he’ll worship the ground you stand on.”

“Joel,” Your voice shook, more tears pooling in your eyes, “I don’t want a nice, responsible young man,” You say, a sob threatening your throat, “I don’t want anyone besides you. Please. I love you.”

Now it was his turn to cry. His eyes turned glassy but he quickly blinked it away, knowing if he cried that he would stay. He wouldn’t be able to leave you.

“Why?” He asked quietly, almost ashamed, “Why in your right mind would you love someone like me? I’m old and cranky and I’m not exactly husband material.”

“Joel,” You mouth fell open in offense. You couldn’t believe he was talking about himself this way, “When I look at you,” You reached a gentle hand up to his cheek, running your thumb over a stray tear, “I don’t see anything but a kind, gentle man who loves his girls fiercely and with no abandon. Joel, it’s enough for me that you love me. And then you have to go and love me well!” You laugh at that, it’s almost unbelievable how perfect he was for you and for Sarah. She was one lucky kid. You stop smiling and your face turns deadly serious, “Joel, I don’t care what you say, I will spend the rest of my life missing you. Even if I did end up marrying that nice young man, I would always wonder where you are, what you’re up to, what you’re doing, and what my life would’ve looked like with you. I will miss you and Sarah for the rest of my life. And I mean that.”

Now Joel was crying, not without protest. He tried his best to hold back the tears but they were flowing. He loved you so much. And to hear that you felt the same? Well it made this old man practically break.

“I love you,” He said quietly.

“I love you, Joel,” You say, running your thumb across the apple of his cheek in a soothing rhythm.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle and soothing kiss. It was a cautious kiss, he was careful not to break you. That was, until, you tangled your hands in his hair, pulling gently. He deepened the kiss, running his tongue over his lips, which you opened your mouth to allow.

Yeah. He didn’t leave you. You would never drunk call him again, and he would never shed a goodbye tear over you again.

You were always grateful that sober you decided to get rid of those photos that night.

[anonymous-dentist]

Bleeding Heart Part Six

Part One | Previous Part

-

Almost two months after his first altercation with Hombre Misterioso, Cellbit hears a knock at his door as he's editing the last of Roier's photos.

Yawning, Cellbit leans his chair back and runs a hand through his hair. He cracks his neck and blearily checks the time in the bottom corner of his computer screen: three in the afternoon. He started editing almost nine hours ago. He's been out of coffee for two and a half hours at least.

So he gets up, groans as his spine protests at the sudden weight, winces as his bones all pop in quick succession. Picks up his coffee mug, ignores the knocking at the door, goes to start a fresh pot of coffee.

His mug was painted by Richarlyson at one of those do-your-own-pottery places. It's a bright, ugly yellow with a red heart and the words, 'World's Okayest Dad' painted on it in black.

The knocking continues.

Cellbit checks his hair in his reflection in the microwave. Pulls at one of the bags under his eyes. Sticks his tongue out. Grimaces at how stupid and old and tired he looks. (Bagi is 26, he thinks, so he should be, too. But, wow, he looks older. Much older.)

More knocking.

With one last forlorn look at his bubbling, brewing, beautiful coffee, Cellbit finally goes to answer the door. He's in his pajamas (sweats and one of Felps' old shirts), and he probably looks like a walking corpse, but, like. Whatever, anyone stupid enough to actually come to his apartment knows that he works from home. They should know what to expect when bothering him.

But:

"Hi!" Bluebird cheerfully says as soon as Cellbit's door is open.

Cellbit looks at her. He blinks, rubs his eyes with one hand, and moves to close the door in her face.

But he's stopped by Bluebird sticking her foot in the door and weaseling past him and into the apartment. She apologizes as she does so, but Cellbit knows that she doesn't mean it; she's a hero.

"Nice place," she comments, walking to the couch and plopping herself down like she's right at home.

"Um," awkwardly says Cellbit. "Get out of my house?"

"Who, me?"

Bluebird actually, really, legitimately looks around the room dramatically, head and hair whipping back and forth as she tries to find whoever it is that Cellbit is actually talking to.

Cellbit balls his hands into fists by his sides. Fucking. Heroes.

Bluebird's costume is basic: black undersuit, light blue vest and darker blue pants, white ski goggles. Her hair is halfway tied back in a ponytail. Her weapon of choice, her now-famous scythe, is on her back and digging into Cellbit's couch cushions. The Federation's logo is right on her chest, and all her sponsors' logos run down her sleeves and the legs of her pants.

Cellbit hates her. She isn't even making an attempt to hide her identity- the goggles aren't doing shit. Heroes don't have to hide themselves. Their faces are on cereal boxes. Bluebird is no exception, especially now that her popularity is skyrocketing.

Bluebird, of course, is assigned to find and defeat Hombre Misterioso. The public thinks that her job is to capture them so they can be tried and imprisoned in the Federation's special underwater prison facility. But Cellbit knows that she's going to kill Hombre Misterioso, and it'll be framed as an accident, and she'll get 'suspended' for a month or so as punishment but, really, it'll actually be a vacation reward for a job well done.

"What do you want," Cellbit flatly asks.

Sighing, he nudges the door shut behind him and leans against it, arms crossed.

Bluebird stares at him for a moment.

(Bare arms crossed, scars and all.)

And then she lets out a breath and crosses her legs, fold her hands neatly on top of her knees and tries to smile. Tries, because Cellbit can tell that her heart isn't in it.

"Hey," she hesitantly says, "so I'm supposed to be asking you about Hombre Misterioso and stuff, but, real quick, I just wanna say that I'm really sorry if Cucurucho's been bothering you."

"You're wasting your time," Cellbit tells her. "Get out of here before I call the cops for trespassing."

Bagi would love to arrest a Fed, even if the charge wouldn't stick longer than an hour after arrest.

Bluebird winces. "O-kaaaay, sensing some hostility here. But, listen, we all just want this guy caught, right?"

"Sure. It's a real shame what's happening to all your heroes."

"It is! And you almost ended up like them, but! But you didn't."

"Yeah." Cellbit nods. "Because I'm not one of you. You're talking to the wrong guy."

He smells coffee.

Ignoring Bluebird for the moment, he walks through the main room and past the couch and the hero on it so he can squeeze into the kitchen. His apartment isn't small, but the kitchen table takes up a solid ninety-percent of the kitchen's floorspace. It even dips into the main room, making it real hard to get around at night when the lights are off.

He grabs his mug and the coffee pot and pours himself a fresh cup. He can feel the warmth radiating out from them both, and he shivers involuntarily. (He usually wears a hoodie when he's working, but he spilled coffee on it earlier in the afternoon and hasn't gotten around to getting a fresh one out of the closet.)

Bluebird, of course, follows him. She hovers in the doorway near the end of the table; her scythe is tall enough to almost scrape the top of the doorway.

Cellbit raises his mug to his lips.

"You might not realize this, but you were probably targeted," Bluebird says, actually almost sounding serious. "Your parents might be dead, but you and your sister aren't."

Cellbit jerks so hard in response that he spills his fresh, hot, boiling coffee all down his front. But he can barely feel it through the sudden rush of hatred in his body.

"My parents had nothing to do with the Federation," he snaps. He pulls his wet shirt out in front of him and wrinkles his nose. "Excuse me."

He puts his cup down on the counter and pushes past a surprised Bluebird to go to his room. He actually manages to close this door behind him as he pulls his shirt off and starts searching for a new one.

As he's digging through his shirt drawer, he hears a tap-tap-tap at the window behind his desk.

Dread filling his veins, Cellbit turns around and sees a familiar gas mask poking out over the top of his computer monitor.

Hombre Misterioso waves.

Cellbit, suddenly, feels rather faint.

"No, sorry!" Bluebird calls through the closed door. "That was my bad! I meant your, uh, the parents you and your sister share? Not your actual parents."

Cellbit points aggressively at the window and mouths, 'Get the hell out of here!'

Hombre Misterioso just waves some more. They're absolutely smiling under their mask.

It's the afternoon. They haven't been seen once in the day, only at night. Sometimes in the evening. Rarely at dawn. Not when the sun is out; it's theorized that their powers relate to the darkness like the Demon's.

"I have nothing to do with those people," Cellbit huffs. He turns back around and grabs a random shirt out of the drawer and starts pulling it on. "Cucurucho probably made you read my file, right? So you should know that."

"It... briefly mentions the Webbers, but that's not what's important!" Bluebid protests. "The Federation is really worried about your safety here, dude! My partner, Lavagirl, is currently talking with your sister about this exact same thing."

"You'll have better luck with her. She's actually on your payroll."

"Yeah, so her time with the Junior Heroes actually makes her a bigger target than you, probably, but, listen-"

Somehow, Cellbit's window starts to squeak open behind him.

He whips around and glares at Hombre Misterioso, who freezes in place with their fingers on the glass. Are those... suction cups on their fingertips? What, are they a thief now? A Spider-Man wannabe?

"No!" Cellbit shouts.

Hombre Misterioso flips him off with a palpable roll of the eyes.

Bluebird repeats, "'No'? Aren't you listening to me right now? Hombre Misterioso is trying to kill you!"

Cellbit laughs dryly. "Yeah, no."

He angrily drives his finger downwards: 'Get down.'

Hombre Misterioso shakes their head.

Cellbit rolls his eyes and points at his bedroom door: 'Someone's here!'

Hombre Misterioso shrugs and starts moving his window again.

Cellbit bites back a groan and rushes to slam his window shut, having to reach around his computer to do it. It slams, and then it's immediately being raised again by the goddamn menace on the fire escape outside.

"Are you okay in there?" Bluebird worriedly asks. "You didn't get burned or anything, right?"

"Mmm, yeah, no, I'm burned as shit," Cellbit lies.

He hisses, eyes narrowed, "Fuck off! There is literally a superhero in my living room right now!"

Hombre Misterioso responds by pulling their cape aside and revealing the hilt of their sword.

"No!"

"Do I need to call an ambulance or something?" Bluebird asks.

"No, I'm fine!" Cellbit replies. "I'm putting on some burn cream now!"

"...You keep that stuff in your bedroom?"

"My computer is old as shit and I have to run Photoshop on it. I burn myself daily. Just... get out of here!"

Cellbit, only vaguely panicked, suddenly grabs an exacto knife from his supplies drawer and drags it across his palm.

Hombre Misterioso lets out an alarmed-sounding electronic gasp, but Cellbit just grits his teeth through the pain and forces a string of his blood out of his hand and around the window's latch and then around the leg of the desk. It ties itself off with a neat knot; Cellbit forces his bleeding to stop and starts willing his platelets to kick into action.

"No, wait, I'm a hero!" Bluebird argues. "I'm trained in first aid! Let me help!"

"I'm literally shirtless!" Cellbit, wearing a shirt, shouts. "Get the fuck out of my apartment!"

"Not until I know you're okay! Do you know how much trouble I'll get in if they find out I let a civilian get hurt?"

Oh, Cellbit knows.

The window rattles and strains as the string of blood keeps it shut. (Blood is made of iron, after all.)

With his palm already scabbing, Cellbit storms towards the door and slams it open, blocking his desk and window from view with his body.

Bluebird looks up at him, determined.

Cellbit wants to stab her.

Instead, he says, "Look, I'm not the guy you want to talk to about this. Your partner is already talking to Bagi, but you both have forgotten about the guy who chased Hombre Misterioso away from me that time."

(The window goes silent.)

For whatever reason, Bluebird sucks in a sharp breath before attempting a smile.

"Oh, Roier?" she asks. "We don't need to talk to him."

Cellbit cocks his head. "Really? Because I was unconscious. I can't tell you anything about what Hombre Misterioso was doing. But Roier saw it all."

"And he talked to the police."

"But Hombre Misterioso has to be pissed at him for ruining their kill, right?" Cellbit asks. "Serial killers always end up escalating outside of their pattern, everybody who's studied them knows this. They lose control. The pattern now is Federation workers, but maybe it'll expand to people protecting Federation workers."

Bluebird pales.

Cellbit rolls his eyes. "Come on, have you really not thought of that? Aren't you guys supposed to be, like, crime experts?"

"Hey! I'm new!"

"Yeah, and you're letting a civilian stay in danger because you're too focused on protecting a failed lab experiment," Cellbit scoffs. "Trust me, if this guy knows as much about me as you think they do, then they know that I'm not the guy they want to kill. They're looking for people who like the Federation, not people who hate it."

Bluebird narrows her eyes. "That's a dangerous thing to say to a superhero, you know."

Cellbit shrugs. "Sue me. You read my file, you know that I'm more likely to be a suspect here than a victim."

She nods. "...Yeah, but you don't have powers. And they do."

He smiles bitterly. "Right."

He looks at Bluebird.

Bluebird looks at him.

"Well?" he asks. "It's a couple of hours until the sun sets, and Roier's going to be leaving work soon. In that area of town? It's only a matter of time until Hombre Misterioso catches him."

There's a quiet laugh from the window.

Cellbit quickly covers it up with a cough and a faux-pained wheeze. He grips at his chest, wincing.

Bluebird's eyes widen. "Oh, shit! Right! Your burn!"

He waves her off. "Don't worry about it, I texted my friend. He's a doctor, he's on his way."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Pac from Chume Labs? He probably helped develop your training program."

"Oh, shit, you're friends with him?" she gasps.

"What can I say? Us Brazilians gotta stick together."

"Huh. Fair. Well..."

She looks uncertain, but she nods, acquiescing. "Fine. If he's coming. But, listen, call the hotline if you see Hombre Misterioso around, okay? You might not have the... best history with us, but the Federation is good people."

Cellbit smiles. "Get out of my apartment."

Once she's gone, Cellbit lets out a scream into his hands and turns to go and yell at Hombre Misterioso some. What the fuck!

He storms to the window and drops the string. It falls apart, blood splashing onto the desk and the carpet.

He wrenches the window open and finds himself nose-to-nose with Hombre Misterioso.

Well.

Nose to gas mask.

"What do you want?" Cellbit growls.

"Who was that?" Hombre Misterioso replies.

"Bluebird. You know, the hero literally assigned to kill you?"

Hombre Misterioso's shoulders tense minutely. "Oh."

Cellbit rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Now. What do you want? The sun is out. And I hate you."

"Ouch."

"Don't act surprised. You're literally stalking me."

"I'm not. But I am here for a good reason."

"You are literally at my apartment." Cellbit blinks. He flushes red in both anger and embarrassment. "You saw me shirtless!"

"And it was very nice, but I'm here to tell you that I am going to kill Iron Boy tonight at midnight."

Iron Boy... former Junior Hero, graduated a few years ago into the mainline hero program, no known powers but an affinity for technology. Otherwise known as Tubbo, one of Pac's coworkers at the lab, and one of Cellbit's biggest haters for no good reason.

Tubbo isn't that old. He's a mentor hero for the Junior Heroes. He doesn't do much actual hero-ing outside of escorting the juniors on crime fighting field trips and testing out weapons for the lab.

Cellbit shakes his head. "Not him."

"Yes, him."

"Do someone else. Without him, the lab is understaffed until Mike gets back from his honeymoon, and we don't know when that's going to be. Kill him when Mike's back."

"Ugh, fine," Hombre Misterioso groans. They slump against the windowsill and rest their chin on their arms. "Who should I kill, then?"

"Why are you asking me?" Cellbit asks. "I'm not a villain, in case you haven't noticed. I'm retired."

"Whatever you say, enigmito." They drum their fingers against the inside of Cellbit's wall. "Maybe I should find Sharkboy."

"Fuck Sharkboy," Cellbit immediately declares. "If you can find him, kill his ass. But he's also retired. Nobody from the Order has been able to track him down."

"Maybe I should find one of those French heroes," Hombre Misterioso muses. "What do you think?"

"I think that I should give you Crow Man's phone number so you can ask him about this and not me."

Suddenly, Hombre Misterioso sits up and snaps their fingers.

"I know!" they excitedly say. "Man-Bear!"

Man-Bear... must be one of the newer heroes that Cellbit doesn't know about. Richarlyson might have heard of him, but. Yeah, no, Cellbit isn't going to ask him. He doesn't want to risk a repeat of the aquarium.

"Fine, Man-Bear," Cellbit sighs. He gives Hombre Misterioso a tired look. "Is that all? Can you go now? And never come back? And leave me alone?"

"I mean, you can come with me toni-" Hombre Misterioso starts.

They freeze.

Cellbit watches their still body until they come back to themselves in the middle of a different sentence and in a different pose: gesturing grandly with their hands and audibly smiling.

"-a team!"

"Yeah, no," Cellbit immediately says. "I can get you the Demon, if you want? But he's kind of on a murder break right now..."

(Fatherhood really has mellowed Bad out, hasn't it?)

Hombre Misterioso audibly grimaces. "I fucking hate that guy. Look, I'll call you with the details tonight when it's about to happen. You can show up if you want. If you don't, it's no big deal, you can just come to the next one."

"Please don't do that."

"Don't worry, I still have your number."

"I'm literally going to go change it as soon as you're gone."

"You won't." They tilt their head tauntingly. "You want to keep an eye on me. If you don't, how will you keep me away from your son?"

The hair on the back of Cellbit's neck stands on end.

"You haven't changed your number since I first called you," they say. "You won't do it now."

They laugh, slow and deliberate and absolutely just grating on Cellbit's ears.

"I'll see you tonight," they say.

Cellbit slams the window shut and backs away from it.

Hombre Misterioso wiggles their fingers in a farewell, and then they hop over the edge of the fire escape and drop out of view.

...Maybe. Maybe, Cellbit should call Bagi.

-

A/N: Let me know what you think in the tags or in my inbox! I want to hear your theories, thoughts, opinions, everything!

[cokoweee]

EHEHHEE Now I get to the DEEP STUFF~

Let's begin.

LOOK AT THIS LITTLE MANNNNNNNN EEEEEEEEE He's seriously so cute- he's like a flying metal kitten and I can't STAND IT- Also, I noticed that Shelldon's dialogue isn't the same either. Before, there would be numbers hidden between the letters- but it seems he's "grown" out of that with this mini upgrade!

Also seeing a genuine smile on Kendra's face is REALLY needed right now. She's just legitimately happy to see the lil robot again, safe and sound. (And NOT a kraangified creature bent on killing her.) These two's little interaction was quite nice to watch and I hope we get to see more of their dynamic. :) Note the fact that here, Kendra's dialogue is also becoming her signature pink again as well... <3

Okay back to the plot.

Now Kendra and Draxum have a... iiiiinteresting dynamic to say the least. It began a bit awkward with the care and medical treatment Draxum had to give her after she was stabbed- but then it began to mellow out by the time Kendra began to get sick. Even so, she never gave him permission to use her name. But here- she does. Here, she actually opens up a tiny bit, allowing this crazy weird old goat to actually call her by her first name. Kendra may be spiraling- but there are some healed pieces of her still shining through the broken shards. <3

Also- THE NECKLACE. Bro- WHY didn't I THINK OF THAT-

And here it is... what we've all been silently dreading~ the answer for Kendra's continued deteriorating health... When we get a peek at her expression here- man it's not a comforting one. She knows something's wrong with her. She knows it's not going away. And her face here is drowned in dismal acceptance.

Draxum goes on to explain as best he can where the problem must have originated from, and it confuses Kendra. (Me too, if I'm being honest. I always thought she got sick because of the knife stab. MAN WAS I WRONG.) Anyways, Draxum begins describing that the origin of the sickness must have infected Kendra at the farmhouse. Then he goes a step FURTHER and tells Kendra that what's attacking her body is the same that killed Raphael.

(I realize now how much her dream was really telling us... Coko you SNEAK.)

And then there's one more thing that I noticed about these panels: How the words referencing Cali the kraangified are highlighted BRIGHT PINK. (Just like Kendra's dream...) Which again, just proves that it was Cali who infected her all along.

I think we now see where that little scar on Kendra's shoulder came from. 0-0

...

EXCUSE ME HUH!?!??! C-Come again, Draxxy?? SIR???

THIS RIGHT HERE. This- haaaaiyyyaaaa this is foreshadowing at its finest. What's the cure? How will Kendra be saved?

Her shoulder... has to be... amputated. Her shoulder, as in her entire ARM???? Like- HELLO???? This is some really... heavy news. AND I LOVE IT. This kind of moment needs to be held with seriousness, and Coko, you aced it. :) Incredible work as always.

This series continues to impress me with your storytelling and foreshadowing. As well as the teeny tiny details that you need a magnifying glass to see. Then there's also the obvious details that are always so clean and beautifully illustrated. Your BG's. MANNN ALIVE THE BACKGROUNDS.

Seriously, Coko. Your work is extremely impressive, and I hope you know that at least by now, after so many like myself have loved it and looked forward to it. :) Thanks for giving me a new thing to look forward to and analyze the crap out of. ~^^~

That's all for now. :) See you after your next update!

~ Melissa

OKAY I had to hold onto this till after work just cause I barely had any time

SHELLDON’s new text!- I wanted to try something new and use the Genius Built font for him. It’s nice seeing ya interpret him as growing up a lil despite getting smaller lol

Kendra and Draxum have a bit of a weird relationship. They don’t chat it up often but they’re both pretty okay enough with eachother where they can have a meal together in peace. They’ve got some mutual respect for eachother

AND MAN YALL I WAS AUUGHHH every time someone blamed bishop, big mama NOPE IT WASNT THE HINT WAS ALWAYS THERE! Pink is not Kendra’s signature text color. I’m absolutely awful I make my hints at shit so stupid so subtle that it’s HORRENDOUS

Ok last lil thing cause im losing track of what im saying. Actually I’ve completely forgotten BUT I LOVE READING THESE RARARARARRARAAR

[hiskillingjar]

I don't know if you've written this, but what would Strade's reaction be if one day Mc who had lost her father who had father issues and who gradually involuntarily established Strade as a father figure in her mind, called Strade father without realizing it? Like, "Dad can you pass me that-" and she realizes with great embarrassment what she said.

"i think i had a bad childhood"

"yeah i know"

"what do you mean you know?"

"look at you. look at the way you sexualise problematic dynamics with older men. people with good childhoods don't get off like that"

1400 words, implications of csa and. bad childhoods. i'm not into DDLG but i'm kind of obsessed with it. i observe you all like a biologist observing mice

"What are you up to?"

You barely looked up when Strade crossed the threshold of the kitchen, his hands in his khaki pockets and his expression as curious as ever as he watched you work.

You might have been ashamed of your role as his pseudo-housewife, cooking and cleaning while he (and your fellow captive) busied themselves with 'real work', had you the chance to feel even a modicum amount of shame anymore.

This wasn't to say that you were living the life of debauchery and hedonism that he was, no, it was more so that you were just apathetic to your situation now, however many years in you were. Maybe you would always been apathetic in some kind of way, plagued by a numb uncaring that he had immediately picked up on when he met you that first night.

A numbness that he tested, nearly every day until you felt something.

"Working hard?" He asked wryly, tilting his head as he rested against the kitchen island.

"Hardly working," You murmured, stirring the pot and making sure nothing was sticking to the bottom.

He let out a laugh, charming and fake as ever, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Is that so?" He replied, raising a dark brow. "Well, it must be nice, not having to work hard. Is there ever going to be a day where you put any effort in?"

"Ha ha," You laughed sarcastically, your expression flat, not even bothering to look towards him as you kept working.

"That's a legitimate question. You could put in some effort right now for example, since..." He drawled, taking a closer step towards you, his eyes roaming up and down your body. "Well, you're not working hard on hiding your resentment towards me, are you?"

Your body bristled as he entered your personal space, even though you are trying to appear neutral, you could feel your heart rate pick up the pace.

"You know, if I was any more of an asshole, I might take your resentment to heart." He continued, placing a hand on each of your hips, bracketing you in place against the stove counter. Your hands stilled, but you refused to look up. "Have you thought about that?"

"Well, it's good that you've reached your asshole quota then." You murmured, chewing the inside of your cheek and trying to appear casual. You smiled placidly and finally looked over your shoulder. "Could you grab me the cream from the fridge?"

"Hm?" He raised his brow, a slight smile coming to his face as he shook his head, almost fondly. "That cheek...sure, of course." 

As you continued to stir the soup, your leg bobbing up and down nervously, he paced across the kitchen and reached for the fridge door's handle. After a few moments of searching (he bought the groceries, he didn't put them away, that was your job), he grabbed the cream you asked for and closed the door. 

As he passed it over to you, any degree of mischief or teasing had left his expression and you almost let out a breath of relief as you reached forward for it. You had survived another night, and you were going to celebrate that with soup.

"Thanks, Dad." You said offhandedly, genuinely thankfully, not paying attention...

...until you did.

"Excuse me?"

Strade's golden eyes widened just a little, his head tilted in a silent question, and he raised one eyebrow.

"What was that?"

"UH-" Your own eyes widened suddenly, your expression flushed and your hands were trembling as you quickly turned back to the stove, trying to forget what you had just said, hoping, hoping that he would drop it. "Um...n-nothing. It was nothing!"

Strade smiled broadly, his (handsome) face lighting up as he laughed, a loud guffaw that made his shoulders shake.

"Did you just call me 'Dad'!? Ha!" He laughed even more to himself, covering his mouth with his hand (as if he was trying to spare your feelings) as he looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes. "That's hilarious!"

"Oh my god," You mumbled, biting your lip before you looked back at him. How was he still laughing this hard? "Don't laugh at me!"

"How could I not laugh?" He asked through chuckles, reaching up to wipe away a beaded tear from his eye. "Wow....wow, wow, wow, your face really says it all, liebling" He let out another laugh through his nose with a shake of his head. "I can't help myself, how could I, why on Earth did you say that?"

Your cheeks were blazing red hot with embarrassment. You reached forward, with trembling hands, to turn off the stovetop, knowing that he wasn't going to leave you alone until he got what he wanted from this interaction. 

Though you weren't quite sure what that would be. You were never really that sure

"I-It was a mistake..." You replied, crossing your arms and turning to face him.

"Mm, I'm not so sure it was one." He said, tilting his head again and intruding on your personal space again, clearly done with laughing at you and using your 'mistake' as a means of...well, fucking with you. "Or if it was, it was a real convenient one, wasn't it?"

"Convenient?" You repeated, giving him an unsure look.

"Yeah, convenient." He nodded, both hands back on your hips as he pressed his body flush to yours. The beginnings of an erection were stirring in his khakis, and when you felt it press to the soft meat of your thigh, you felt an involuntary surge of desire shoot through you. Like Pavlov's fucked up little puppy, you had started to associate his body heat with...something you'd get in return.  "I think it was...mm, more than an accidental slip of the tongue."

"Ahh...mph," You groaned lowly, as his hand slid down your hip and across the scars on your thigh, thigh fingers pressing against the gusset of your pyjama shorts and feeling your own initial stirrings of arousal through the thin cotton.

"You're just too cute." He crooned with a smirk, bringing his face down to yours, his golden eyes boring into your own. "You know I always wondered why you behaved so coldly towards me, so full of resentment." He enunciated that point by pressing his fingers inside you, making you immediately flinch and tighten around him. "But... I think I've figured it out."

"Mm..." You moaned a little, raising your hazy eyes towards his, an invitation for him to spill his musings on your character.

"Mmhmm..." Strade's voice dropped to just above a whisper, as he pressed his lips to your cheek. "I think that Daddy wasn't too nice to you, was he?"

"Ah!" You squeaked as you felt his thumb trace over your clit and press down hard, pressing your face into his neck to hide your whimpers and moans.

With you now pressed so close, Strade didn't hesitate to slide his free hand down the back of your shorts and take a handful of your backside, giving it a firm grope as he pressed his hardening cock against the space between your thighs. Tempting you, making you hungry for him, but never giving you what you wanted.

"No, no..." He continued, dragging his fingers up and down your sensitive insides as he rocked into your body. "Daddy didn't treat you like the sweet, little thing you are. So now...if someone, a teacher, a friend...a stranger at a bar," He grinned, pressing another kiss to your cheek, letting it trail down to your jaw. "Reminds you too much of Daddy, sure, you get all short and bitchy with them...but that doesn't stop your pussy getting wet, just thinking about them treating you like the little girl you wish you still were. Hah..." He groaned softly, giving your backside another squeeze. "Am I close, sweetheart?"

You bit your lip, keeping quiet, afraid to say that he had...hit the nail on the head.

Daddy issues. How fucking embarrassing.

"But I'll treat you better than Daddy did..." He promised, giving your cheek another kiss, though you could feel the bite of a mean grin on his face as he did so. "At least, I'll be honest with you when I fuck you up beyond repair~"

[thegreymarveljedi]

You’ve Got a Nice Ass

(Obi-wan x Reader)

This is a funny little story I found in my drafts from another fandom and thought, why the hell not. Obi-wan is hot and I like him so sue me (please don’t I’m broke).

This is something just really fun and kinda flirty so I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: playful teasing, clones being funny, a little bit of hurt/comfort, reader is slightly insecure, obi-wan being a teddy bear, love confessions, friends to lovers, ass slapping (very mild), fluffff

Words: 3.5K

—————

I was sitting in the mess hall of the Resolute with my tray of food, a book in hand while soldiers came in and out of the mess. Most were sat at tables talking and joking with one another as they always did which always put a smile on my face. Obi-wan, Anakin, Rex, Cody and Ahsoka were sat with me at a table speaking amongst themselves before a certain conversation seemed to catch all our attention.

"I'm saying master Yoda could totally kick general Windu’s ass in a fight!" Waxer argued, his voice carrying from where he sat at the table next to us.

"Are you kidding? General Windu would woup Master Yoda’s ass," Boil defended, argued back, a few of the 212th and 501st boys taking sides and placing bets on who they think would win.

“I’m with Waxer, my credits are on Master Yoda.”

“Well then you’re wrong Vod cause I think General Windu would win.”

“How am I wrong when that’s your opinion Hardacse?”

“Because Boil is right and therefore that makes me right too cause I agree with him.”

“That’s not how that works you di’kut!”

"Alright men. I think this argument as well as this bet have gone a little too far already,” Obi-wan chimed in over the sounds of the boys yapping at each other. He was so calm and level head but still kept a smile on his face which made me swoon slightly. He carried such a power with him and that made even most compose of people squirm. I loved it when Obi-wan was like this. He was serious like a warrior at times but at others he was a cute, cuddly and fluffy teddy bear that you just wanted to squeeze.

At the sound of their general’s the boys immediately quieted down, looking to Obi-was with a sincerity apology as they went back to eating their food and conversing about a different topic.

I had liked Obi-wan for a long time now, being Anakin’s older sister, I went with him when Master Qui-gon found Anakin. I had stuck by my brother as well as Obi-wan when the council had refused to train us. I was there when master Yoda changed his mind and I was there when Anakin and I were officially made padawans.

I’ve stuck by them both since the beginning, helping Obi-wan to understand how to teach Anakin and well as how to navigate things with two of us. I tried my best to make his life easy and I like to think that it has worked well. Ever since becoming a knight around the age of 24, I’ve always hoped that Obi-wan would see me in a different light, even if I used to be his student. I’ve been by his side through everything and I would always admire from afar because deep down, I knew I would never have a chance with someone as amazing as him. He followed the code to a T and would break it especially for someone like me.

"Yes sir, sorry general," Boil said apologetically, turning back to his tray of food as snickers could be heard around them.

"Let's just say that they could both kick some major butt,” Waxer said and his brother smiled at him as they gave a highfive, a few of the other boys asking for their credits back now that the bets were off.

However, Waxer and Boil refused, saying that those credits were bet fair and square in a legitimate bet. There were more groans of protest and more arguing before food was thrown in Boils face, the 212th trooper looking shocked as all eyes turned to Fives.

“Oh god, here we go,” Rex said as he face palmed, glaring daggers at Fives who had a triumphant look on his face before it was wiped away as he was tackled to the ground.

"Well-" Obi-wan said as he stood up from the table and stretched, his muscles flexing and making my mouth water from behind my book, "-I'm gonna go the training room for a bit." I watched him walk toward the door and out, turning down the left hallway towards the training rooms, my eyes following until the door closed behind him.

“Fives! Enough, you di’kut!”

“Give me back my money!”

“It was better fair and square!”

“Was not! General Kenobi called the bet therefore it is void.”

“You just don’t want to loose.”

“Enough!”

I let out a sigh and slumped into my seat, my book falling from my hand as I silently watched Rex and Cody break up the brawl that was currently happening.

"You ok (Y/N/N)?" Anakin asked as he and Ahsoka finished snickering at the clones and their fighting.

"Ya just.....thinking," I said and tilted my head back, staring at the ceiling. My mind was swirling with thoughts that I shouldn’t be thinking, feelings that were against the Jedi code. I sighed again as I leaned my head down and rested it against the table, my try of food long finished and pushed to the side.

"About Obi-wan?" Anakin sing-songed. He was the only one who knew about my crush on Obi-wan besides Padme because she was my other best friend and sister-in-law. I could never hide anything from her.

"W-what!? N-no!" I said defensively.

"Ok then suit yourself," he said and continued to watch Cody and Rex scold their men as if they were children.

Ahsoka turned to me with a small smile and took my hand, knowing that Anakin could be a little too teasing when it came to certain things. She was a good fit as his padawan, keeping him in line and grounded when Padme or I couldn’t.

“I’ve heard master Kenobi say things about you too you know,” she said and winked, peeking over as Rex escorted, Fives, Jesse and Hardcase out the door, Cody doing the same with Waxer, Boil and Longshot.

“Like what?” I said wearily but curiously, my emotions getting the best of me. I wanted to know because deep down I thought that maybe, just maybe, I had a shot.

“I’ve heard him talk about how determined you are and how kind you are. I’ve heard him talk about how much he admires your courage and bravery,” Ahsoka sat and wiggled her eyes, her markings moving with her eyes.

“I’ve heard things too you know,” Anakin chimed in, his full attention now back on the conversation that Ahsoka and I were having. I blushed and hid my face behind my hand, this kind of topic not one I was used to talking about in such an open space where anyone could be listening.

That was the moment that Rex and Cody came back to the mess hall, coming to sit back down at our table.

“What have you heard?” I said quizzically, trying my hardest not to show my emotions on my face, but Anakin could read me like book.

“That he liked you baaackk,” Anakin said in a singsong voice again. I reached over and smacked him somewhat playfully, it wanting him to say it out loud.

“Oh are we talking about General Kenobi’s giant crush on you?” Cody said and smirked at me, going back to eating his food as if he hadn’t just said something that big. My face went redder than the Tatooine suns at night, my body wanting nothing more than to sink down under the table and disappear.

“Yes we are,” Anakin said triumphantly, looking at me with a shit eating grin.

“Oh it’s bad. He talk as about you all the time general. Even when he thinks no one is around, he talks about how amazing you are and I can hear him scolding himself about having those thoughts. And then the next second he talking to me about how he can’t help it,” Cody spilled, seemingly feeling no shame for airing Obi-wan’s feelings.

"Really?" I asked dumbfounded, looking between Anakin, Ahsoka, Cody and even Rex who was nodding his head along with Cody.

"Yes really. You should go talk to him and tell him how you feel. I promise you he feels the same,” Cody said with a smirk, one that made me question if they were bullshitting me. I took a moment to process all that they had said, looking at the faces around the table. Ahsoka was the one to do it for me, he smile genuine and eyes shining with nothing but truth.

I smiled at her and thanked the group, standing up and taking my tray to the cleaning station before making my way out of the mess, my mission? Tell Obi-wan how I feel.

~Time Skip~

I made my way to the training room, thinking of how I could tell Obi-wan my feelings without making things awkward. I was still weary of everything the others had said, especially Cody. I wanted to believe them but what if they were secretly wrong? What if he was still in love with Satine or if he was sticking by code and willing to report me to the Jedi high council for having such feelings.

My heart sank as I thought about it, uncertainty swimming in my heart as I played the different scenarios over and over again in my head. I stopped in my tracks as I reached the training room, my resolve crumbling and my heart beginning to break.

What if he doesn’t love me the way I love him? What if this is all a joke and I’m being made a fool of?

My mind began to race a million miles a minute, so many things happening internally that I also chickened out. It took me a few moment to calm my mind, making it up just to get it over with and if Obi-wan didn’t feel the same, I would find a way to live that. I would find a way to be okay.

When I got to the sliding doors of the training room, I found them already open, the locking mechanism initiated so that they stayed opened. Obi-wan was stood there, a blind fold over his eyes and his top layer of robes discarded, his under shirt and training pants all that he was wearing. Even through the undershirt, his back muscles were very defined and detailed, his body looking as if it had been sculpted with delicate hands.

His training pants left a little less to the imagination, the material tight against his body but stretchy enough that it moved with him. His legs were very muscular, years of training and hard labour giving him very powerful looking legs. But what what drew my attention most, as weird as it is to say, was his ass. The material of his training pants left little for me to imagine, the globes of his ass looking very defined and round, ass plump and bouncing ever so slightly as he moved around the training mat.

'He's got a nice butt.' I thought to myself, keeping my distance as I watched him train with his saber.

I saw Obi-wan’s head whip around, the blindfold being lifted as he stared at me wide eyed and that's when I realized I said it out loud. My eyes filled with horror at the realization, my body rapidly filling with fear.

"W-what?" He asked bewildered, looking at me with slight embarrassment as he pulled the blindfold completely off his head.

I stood as straight as a board and turned right around, practically running out of the room while trying to control the blush on my face and the growing nose bleed I had. I could hear Obi-wan calling out to me but I ran as fast as I could to my quarters on the other side of the ship. I could feel tears welling in my eyes at the sheer unbridled embarrassment I felt, knowing that I had fucked up my chances royally.

~Time Skip~

After making it back to my quarters and cleaning up my bloody nose, I fell onto my bed, letting my face hit my pillow. I screamed into my pillow letting out all my embarrassment and emotions. Tears welled in my eyes again as I thought about just how much I had fucked up. The ridiculous idea to tell the man I love that I had a crush on him was just that, a ridiculous idea. Like a terribly made fairy tale where the girl doesn’t live happily ever after.

I sighed and flipped over onto my back, holding my pillow and string at the ceiling. I did my best to wipe my tears but more and more kept coming, my heart breaking with every passing moment.

"What was I thinking? Of course he doesn't like me like that. How fucking cliche to think he could see me as more than a colleague. How stupid to think they were telling the truth," I mumbled to myself, my palms digging into my eyes as I muttered to myself about how stupid I was.

"I don’t think that’s the kind of language you should be using when speaking about yourself my darling," I heard and bolted up, throwing my pillow full force towards the source voice. I heard a chuckle and looked up towards the door to see Obi-wan standing there, freshly showered and wearing actual clothes, my pillow hanging in midair.

"H-How long...." I got managed to get out before Obi-wan stepped fully into my room, placing the pillow gently on the end of my bed as the door slid closed. I moved myself backward to the head of my bed, wanting to put as much distance between myself and Obi-wan as I could.

"Long enough to hear you call yourself cliche and other words that I don’t think are representative of you in the slightest," He said, sitting on the edge of my bed. Ge picked up the pillow and used the force to slowly bring it back over to me, as if knowing I was terrified for this encounter. I took the pillow in my hands and rested it on my knees, bringing my knees up to me chest and burying my face in the pillow again.

"(Y/N), look at me," he said, moving closer and placing a hand on my knee. I turned just enough out of my pillow so he could see my left eye, bloodshot and tears still seeming to gather in my waterline.

"I'm not mad darling. And I don't think any less or different of you if that's what you're thinking," Obi-wan said and I turned my head a bit more to see his face better. He gave me one of his award winning smiles and I gave him a small smile back, still feeling the lingering embarrassment.

Obi-wan moved even closer to me, slowly and gently pulling the pillow from my arms. He placed it down next to me at the head of the bed before gently taking my hands in his. My eyes were still downcast, refusing to fully meet Obi-wan’s gaze even as he tried to look into my eyes.

“Darling look at me, please?” He said and lifted his fingers to tilt my chin up. I did so willingly, letting him use his thumb and pointer finger to lift my chin up. I looked into his eyes, trying to find any hint of discomfort or disappointment but there was nothing but understanding and what seemed to be…adoration?

He looked me in the eye before his eyes flickered to my lips, the movement quick but noticeable. I gulped down what air I could, my hands shaking with anxiety. He said nothing for another few moments, just looking at me with an adorable smile and keeping my head up and eyes on him.

“You’re very beautiful you know that right?” He spoke softly and I blinked, not expecting such praise to leave his lips. I blushed and tried to time my head away but Obi-wan kept a firm grip on my chin, his hold still gentle.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you’re beautiful.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“But-“

“Say it,” he said, moving his hand from my chin to my cheek, hold it there and stroking his thumb along my cheekbone. My eyes remained glued to him, still not believing what he was saying to me or what he was asking me to do.

“(Y/N) say it.”

“I-I’m be-beautiful,” I whisper, my voice cracking as I spoke those words. I knew deep down that I was attractive, but speaking those words especially in front of Obi-wan after such an embarrassing moment felt wrong.

“Say it again.”

“I-I’m beautiful,” I spoke again, this time my voice a little louder but still slightly shaky.

“You’re extremely beautiful. You know I would never lie to you,” Obi-wan spoke again, his tone teasing only slightly. That got a laugh out me as I smiled, nuzzling into his hand and bringing mine up to hold his on my cheek. He smiled and leaned in to me slowly, giving me time to pull away if I wanted to. Instead, I leaned as well, matching his intentions as he kissed me softly and with so much love I could've melted.

My eyes closed and I leaned more into it, starting to feel more comfortable with what was happening. I smiled into the kiss before breaking away, making a bold move and wrapping my arms around Obi-wan’s neck. He laughed a hearty laugh and wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me to him. The position was a little awkward for us but at that moment I didn’t really care, just content to be in his arms finally.

Obi-wan smiled and pulled me into his lap, winking at me before kissing my nose. I giggled and returned the kiss before burying my face in his neck again, just breathing in his natural scent of birch wood and earl grey tea. He did the same, cradling my head to his neck and rubbing his other hand up and down my back.

"I love you (Y/N). I have admired your determination and courage since I met you. Your loyalty to your brother and how eager you were to learn,” Obi-wan confessed, pulling away from our embrace ever so slightly and held my hips, gently massaging circles into them.

I smiled and leaned in to kiss him again, smiling as he chased my lips when I pulled away, “I love you too Obi. You’ve always been there for me through everything, even when you didn’t have to be," I said shyly. He lifted his hand and tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear, holding my cheek again once he did so.

“I will always be there for you my Dear, even if the council doesn’t approve. I will fight for you, for us,” he said lovingly and I smiled, tackling him to the bed and giving him a big hug. He laughed and held me as we almost rolled off the bed, moving to adjust us so we were lying down properly against the pillows.

We smiled at one another before he sat us up, helping me stand up and holding my hand as we walked to the door.

"Where are we going?" I asked as we made our way out into one of the halls of the Resolute.

"Well, now that you and I are an item, I must at least treat you to a miniature adventure before we can go on a real date,” He said and sent me a wink. I blushed and laughed before letting go of his hand and stopping.

He turned back to me with a look of confusion on his face before I laughed and ran up to him, giving his ass a good slap before I tried to run away. He yelped in surprise at the contact, reaching out and grabbing my waist before I could get away.

I laughed again as he spun me around, only stopping when we both began to get dizzy. I smiled as he turned me in his arms to face him, leaning down to place a soft kiss to my lips again. I smiled again and leaned into him, allowing our lips to move together in sync. When we pulled away, I gave his ass another little pat, smirking as he rolled his eyes at me.

"That is a nice ass," I said. He looked at me and smirked before rolling his eyes again and throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

We both laughed as he carried me through the halls of the ship, doing our best to avoid people with me still over his shoulder. I wasn't complaining though,

I had the perfect view of that gorgeous ass.

—————

I do think Obi-wan has a great ass, change my mind.