#it has been a BUSY week oh my goodness so i am grateful for the break

[funkyfrogoftheday]

today's funky frog of the day: the garlic toad (Pelobates fuscus)!!!!!!!!! they're also known as the spadefoot toad. their skin coloration and pattern can vary based on where they're located - their habitat is quite extensive, ranging from western asia to central europe! also, they have soulful eyes.

photo © Alexandre Roux

#garlic toad #Pelobates fuscus #frog #funky frog of the day #frogblr #happy happy friday if that's the end of your week etc :) as it is for me #it has been a BUSY week oh my goodness so i am grateful for the break

[chronicowboy]

Buck is stood staring at his couch with a wrinkled nose when a frantic knocking rips him from his thoughts. Frowning, he skids over to the door on socked feet and yanks it open to reveal a harried Eddie and sheepish Christopher.

"Tell me you aren't busy," Eddie pleads, already pushing into the loft to set down two dangerously full grocery bags on the kitchen island.

The loft suddenly seems a lot brighter, feels a lot warmer.

"I'm not busy," Buck replies as he shoots a questioning look at Christopher who only bites his lip and looks away.

"Oh, thank God." Eddie grabs him by the shoulders with a grateful smile before taking a deep breath. "I am. Busy. Like incredibly busy."

"Okay..." Buck narrows his eyes at him. "So, I'm hanging out with my favourite Diaz then?"

"Hold the thought on that favourite bit," Eddie huffs, dropping his hands. Buck's shoulders turn cold at the loss, he shrugs the absence off. Eddie turns to Christopher with his arms folded over his chest and an arched eyebrow. "Want to tell Buck what you decided to tell me at four pm this afternoon?"

"Fine," Chris sighs, looking up at Buck guiltily. "I need to bake cookies for my whole class."

"Sure, we can do that." Buck frowns, sharing a look with a still frantic Eddie. "When do you need them for?"

Christopher averts his eyes. Realisation dawns on Buck, and he shares a knowingly unimpressed look with Eddie.

"Tomorrow," he mumbles.

"Chris," Buck groans.

"I know, okay?" Chris groans right back. "I forgot. I'm sorry. Will you help me? Please?" He breaks out his patented puppy eyes, and Buck has to try hard not to laugh at the notion he wasn't going to help Chris all along.

Buck steals a look at an apologetic Eddie, shakes his head in a way he hopes conveys I've got your back.

"Of course I will, Chris, you know that." His eyes snap to Christopher when Eddie's face melts into that dangerously fond expression. He's been seeing a lot more of it ever since he woke up from his coma, and it makes him feel a little like a lightning bolt trapped in a human body. He doesn't know what to make of it.

"You are a lifesaver," Eddie tells him seriously, pulling him into a quick hug. "I've gotta get over to Pepa's, but I'll be back around dinner time, okay?"

"Oh, I see," Buck tuts. "You just want to reap the benefits of all our hard work."

"Obviously." Eddie pulls one of his patented frog faces. "I wasn't trying to hide that."

"Lazy good-for-nothing," Buck says, except it comes out sounding much more like you're everything.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Who here was asleep for a wholeass week?" Eddie retorts.

"Ass," Chris snickers.

"Don't," Buck and Eddie scold in unison, sharing a bashful smile. Chris just rolls his eyes.

Buck tries not to preen at how natural all of this is, thinks of Bobby's words in the engine just before lightning struck.

Life's too short to take those relationships for granted.

Buck has seen his world without the Diazes in it, he'll never take them for granted again.

"I don't think a coma is technically considered sleep," Buck argues, just happy that Eddie isn't flinching away from the reminder of the accident like he used to.

"Well, you weren't snoring," Eddie concedes.

"I don't snore!"

"Buck, the only reason I felt okay leaving you sleeping on the couch to make Christopher's lunch was because I could hear you breathing all the way from the kitchen." Buck tries not to think about a worried Eddie hovering over him, fingers itching to reach out and find a pulse, lingering in the doorway to the kitchen because he didn't want to leave Buck alone. "You snore."

"You snore," Chris agrees.

"Betrayal!" Buck gasps. "We're making oatmeal raisin cookies."

"Nooooooo!" Chris cries. "Buck, please!"

"Do I snore?" Buck demands.

"Nope." Chris grins.

"Chocolate chip it is."

"Double chocolate chip?" he tries, eyes wide and sparkling. Buck loves him desperately.

"Nice try, kid." Eddie drops a hand onto Christopher's head. "You get double chocolate chip when you tell us more than one day in advance."

Something warm and content settles in Buck's gut at the ease of Eddie's us.

"Buck?" Chris pouts up at him.

"Nah, not gonna work on me." Buck shakes his head, folds his arms over his chest. Eddie sends him a smile, the small and private one that tucks itself into Eddie's rosy cheeks, the one that Buck's pretty sure he'd return from the dead just to see again.

"Okay, well, you two have got it under control." Eddie ducks down to drop a muah! on Christopher's head, presses a quick one to Buck's cheek. "I'm off! Love you both, see you for dinner!"

Eddie sweeps out of the door in a whirlwind of frantic energy. Buck just watches him go, mouth half-open in a soft 'o' as the skin of his cheek tingles where Eddie's lips had been. He stares at the closed door with wide eyes, stares for so long his mouth goes dry.

Maybe he does have the answers, maybe he's had a couch all along.

A sharp tug on his shirt pulls him from his trance, and he looks down at Christopher.

"Cookies?" he says, entirely too knowing for an eleven-almost-twelve-year-old.

"Cookies," Buck nods.

#sami rambles #eddie realises what he's done when he parks at pepa's and then immediately says yes when she asks to set him up #episode coda #911 show #911 spoilers #911 fox #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #buck x eddie #buck x eddie fanfic #buck x eddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #buck and christopher #buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family fic

[xyouami]

PROLOUGE ::

*ILLUSTRATION MADE BY XYOUAMI!! (me :cute:)*

"I've known you more than anyone. Your parents, your grandparents, your friends, it doesn't matter. No matter how long I'll do this, l'll do it until you'll be able to rest."

★ SYNOPSIS : in which case, your life has been happy and cheerful ever since. Nothing stopped in your way, and you cherished it. Wanting to keep continuing your dreams and wishes as is. But that stops immediately after a death that'll stop time for you—but not him. Scaramouche, your best friend.

THEMES/WARNINGS : Angst, Fluff, gore, murder, strong language, suicide, characters dying, reincarnation, hint of romance, slow burn, modern time, corny as shit, GN reader, reader is energetic social butterfly bc it adds contrast to the story PLSS,

(TUMBLR POST WILL CONTAIN CHANGES, WATTPAD WILL HAVE FULL ORIGINAL. Also basically a shoujo manga type in the Prolouge, watch out ☠️ (Reason for this: my wattpad writing is absolute shit so tumblr masterlist is better)

"Hey, Scaramouche!" Y/n called out.

"What took you so long?" Scaramocuhe scoffed. "I'm sorry, Hu Tao was taking too long." As Y/n said that, Hu Tao jumped on Y/n's back.

"Hey, hey!" Hu Tao giggled.

"You slept in! Did you at least eat some breakfast I made?"

"Yeah, it was really, really good!" Hu Tao said.

"What did you like? I'd love it if I were to pack some for you." Y/n smiled warmly at Hu Tao. Hu Tao was living with Y/n's family due to her not having a home yet. Hu Tao's caretaker, Zhongli, is out for a business trip. So until then, for the rest of high school, she will have to live with Y/n.

"Where's Yanfei?" Y/n asked.

"She's sick today, so she can't come to school. She has such a high fever! I'm worried." Hu Tao moped.

"Cmon, she'll be fine in a few weeks. It takes a while for her to get well whenever she gets sick, right?"

"Yeah, but what makes me even more worried is that she has a fever. This rarely happens."

"Cmon, let's go already. Do you guys have your tickets?" Scaramouche asked.

"Yep!" Hu Tao held out her ticket.

"Mhm." Y/n held out theirs, too.

"Alright, let's go." When Scaramouche said that, the doors of the train opened.

"Let's go, let's go!" Hu Tao said happily.

The train wasn't really busy at this time of day since it was still the morning.

"How's Kazuha?" Y/n asked Scaramouche.

"He's doing okay. Why ask?"

"I heard recently, his close friend got murdered."

"Ah, I know. That was years ago, though."

"4 years is really short, you know?" Y/n said in a quietly soft tone, sounding tired yet full of hope.

"But yeah, he's okay."

"I've heard he's made a new friend already, his name is Shikanoin Heizou... right..?" Y/n looked at Scaramouche.

"Yeah." Scaramouche looked blankly at Y/n. Y/n's eyes were always shining no matter how sad they could be.

"Hey, Y/n you down for karaoke?" Hu Tao giggled.

"Hm.. tonight?"

"Yeah! I've got coupons! You could invite your friends!"

"Oh, I'm so down!" Y/n said brightly.

Scaramouche looked at the back of Y/n's head as they talked to Hu Tao. 'How could I ever have them as a friend? Tch, I've known them since 7th grade. And now we're in sophomore year. They're a bother, but at least I have something to tell Nahida when i get home.' Scaramouche thought.

"Hey Scaramouche! Are you down for karaoke tonight?" Hu Tao asked.

"Can't, I've got tutoring.

"Oh yeah, I remember you've got tutoring every Tuesday and Thursday." Y/n said with a deadpanned face, followed along with a small smile.

"I've told you that like 7 months ago!" Scaramouche said."

"Just admit it, I'm better than you." Y/n smirked.

"Shut up." Scaramouche flicked Y/n's forehead.

"Ow! At least be grateful! Without me, you could've never passed those tests!" Y/n said angrily.

Hu Tao laughed. 'Wow, cuties in a pod.' Hu Tao smirked.

————

Y/n looked at their phone. "9:48 am... we'll get there by 10:02 am and classes start at 10:49 am." Y/n muttered.

"You sure keep track of time a lot.

"That's because I wanna be on time every day." Has anybody seen Y/n late to class? Nope. It's not such a thing.

"Little ol perfecto." Scaramouhe bonked his hand on Y/n's head.

"Hey, can you stop?"

"Make me."

Y/n did a slow turn to Scaramouche. He immediately drew his hand back to himself and moved his gaze to the window across from them. Y/n and Hu Tao were listening to music through their earbuds and humming playfully to a song.

Hu Tao and Y/n chatted as Scaramouche dazed himself out. "Were almost here." Y/n took out theirs and their earbud in Hu Tao's ear.

"Hey, the song wasn't even finished!"

"Were almost here, cmon." Y/n nudged Hu Tao's bag gently.

Y/n put their phone and earbuds in their school bag and picked it up from the ground.

"Scara." Y/n muttered. They gently nudged his arm to bring him back to his zoning out dreamland.

"Uh, yeah, right." He got up with his bag as they left the train station. Just a couple minutes of walking.

"How much again?" Hu Tao put a hand to her chin with a playful grin.

"2 minutes." Y/n replied.

"Ganyu on watch out duty again?" Hu Tao asked. It was eerily quiet.. but it was comforting?

"Yeah." Before even Y/n could answer, he did it for them.

Scara, Hu Tao, and Y/n made it to the school gates as small amounts of students were going towards the school. Hu Tao exhaled.

"Can't believe Tevyat High is possibly the most ghetto but expensive school in the city." Hu Tao yawned.

Y/n laughed. "Hey, Ganyu!" Y/n waved.

"Oh? Hello!"

"Is Layla in the library with Kaveh?"

"Yep. Just go in there and look for them. They should be at table two. But how are you guys doing? I haven't seen you guys in forever." Ganyu smiled.

"I'm doing well." Y/n said.

"I'm doing great! I'm a little tired, though." Hu Tao said. Ganyu gave Hu tao a nod.

"Hello, Scaramouche. How are your studies?"

"I don't study." Scara said blankly.

"Oh, well. You should study. It's a good habit to develop." Scaramouche just looked at Ganyu with a deadpanned face.

"Me and Scara will be going now. Bye Ganyu, bye Hu Tao!" Y/n waved to them goodbye.

"Byebye!" Hu Tao waved. Ganyu did a small wave goodbye as Y/n caught up with Scaramouche.

Y/n exhaled.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just tiring trying to keep my energy up, I didn't sleep much last night. I had a bad feeling something was going to happen today."

"What? That you gotta study for the test tomorrow?"

"I think so..." Y/n moped.

"It's fine, N/n."

"Hey, you used my nickname!" Y/n pointed out.

"Yeah? So what?"

"I've never heard you in my life say that!" Y/n beamed with light.

"Tch." Scaramouche scoffed. Scaramouche listened to Y/n ramble until they got to their classroom. They saw Thoma and Yoimiya talking.

"Hey Thoma! Hey Yoimiya!" Y/n waved.

"Hey, hey! Tell Hu Tao I said hi, and whats up?"

"Hm? Where's Ayaka? She's usually here with you guys." Y/n said.

"She's off heading errands for Mr. Ginger."

"You mean Tartaglia?" Thoma said.

Scaramouche looked at Y/n. Scaramouche.. felt wrong. He felt everything was about to go wrong. And he felt like his intuition was right.

"Scaraaaaa." Y/n waved in Scaramouche's face.

"Hm? What?"

"You were spacing out."

"Uh, yeah." Scaramouche replied in a sarcastic voice and turned his head away.

"Is that just all you say?"

"I don't know."

"Dude, get your shit together." Y/n giggled. Y/n sat at their sear while Scaramouche pulled up a chair and sat in front of them.

"Anyway, let me tell you something..." Y/n rambled and rambled on and on for 10 minutes straight to Scaramouche. He listened and didn't say a single word. Y/n didn't care if he was listening or not. They just kept on going.

"Y/n." Scaramouche cut them off mid sentence.

"Hm? Yeah?" Y/n smiled at Scaramouche.

"Do you... like anyone?"

"Ouuh!! Nows the time I tell you!"

"So you do?"

"Yes, yes!"

"Who is it?" Scaramouche asked plainly. He raised an eyebrow

"Hmm... when I was in 8th grade, and a freshman, I used to have a crush on... Kazuha!" Y/n whispered.

Scaramouches heart stopped.

"Do you still like him?"

"Well... I'd guess I'd say yeah. He's a nice guy, and he's really cool. He's generous, smart, pretty, kind to everyone, and he's calm and collected." Y/n paused and their smile faded. They looked to the window of the outside to their right.

"Although..." Y/n stared at the window with bright spring leaves falling down.

"He's just too good for me. I mean, we're best friends and everything, but I have you. Even if I do get with Kazuha, you will forever be my best friend." Y/n said.

"What about Hu Tao?"

"She's a good friend too. But I've only known her since 8th grade. You, on the other hand. I've never had a closer friend than you. All of my childhood friends dropped me because I wasn't my best and that I wasn't just a good friend in general. You've probably been the friend I've had longest."

Scaramouche thought about that, drowning in his thoughts again. Until the teacher clapped his hands to get back in their seats. He immediately drew his seat back.

-------

Hu Tao yawned as she packed her bags.

"Cmon, let's hurry and go to karaoke!" Yoimiya excitingly said, as Ayaka came up.

"Hello! Mind if I join? My brother said it would be alright."

"Yes, of course!" Yoimiya said to Ayaka.

"You coming?" Y/n looked at Scaramouche.

"Yeah, Mrs. Miko said Xingqiu would take cover for my tutoring."

"Ah! That's wonderful! Get more people!"

"I have ten coupons! I have plenty." Hu Tao smug face.

"Woah! Now I know who to exactly bring." Yoimiya said.(

Sorry if there's so many timeskips I'm just lazy ok (　'⊇｀)

—— at karaoke bc I'm a lazy ass mf

"So how do you work this thing?" Heizou asked, he inspected the device and scrolled down endless songs to count.

"Okay, so first, this is the search bar to look for songs if you wanna sing. Here is the queue of songs people are going to sing..." Y/n rambled how to work the karaoke device and microphone to Heizou who was a newbie.

"Oh, thanks a bunch!" Heizou said.

"No problem!" Ayaka sang a song, and of course, everyone in the room clapped loudly and cheered.

Y/n looked at Scaramouche just drinking a soda."You wanna sing?"

"No." Scaramouche immediately replied with no hesitation.

"Awh, but the reason to come here is to sing! Not drout out." Y/n said to Scaramouche.

"Y/n! Your next!" Ayaka said, she held out the microphone to Y/n.

——— after karaoke bc I'm a lazy ass mf AGAIN. (full version in wattpad)

Hu Tao sang, Heizou sang, Kazuha sang, Thoma sang, everyone sang, but Scaramouche.

"Scara, do you not want to sing?"

"Um." Scaramouche moved his gaze to Y/n, then looked away.

"Yeah? I'll do a duo with you."

They searched up a song they liked, "Alright, get yo butt over here!" Y/n grabbed Scaramouche's hand.

"Hey, wait!" Scaramouche exclaimed to protest.

"Here's the microphone, I believe you like this song a lot. So you'll sing it with me! I know you can sing, I've heard you hum and sing songs aloud before. Don't be shy!" Y/n nudged Scaramouche.

"It's not that...—"

"The song's starting, get ready!"

"Whew... I'm wiped out." Hu Tao said, while wiping off some sweat off her forehead.

"Were going home now." Kazuha picked up his bag from the ground and went to Heizou.

"Right! Goodnight, Kazuha! Goodnight, Heizou! Get home safe!" Y/n gave them a small smile and wave.

"You too." Kazuha smiled, and left with Heizou.

"You down for a sleep over?" Yoimiya said.

"Ah, I wish. But I can't." Y/n said.

"Why not? Have some fun at least." Yoimiya nudged their shoulder gently, then chuckled.

"Well, goodnight Scaramouche and Y/n! Get home safe!" Ganyu left.

"We'll be heading out with Thoma." Ayaka said.

"Right, you want me to call Ayato for you?" Thoma asked.

"Yes, and you might wanna stay with the sleepover group as well. You live quite far away. Ayato can just pick you up." Ayaka said while pulling her phone out.

"Right, well then. It was nice being with you guys. Goodnight and get home safe!" Thoma waved goodbye. Yoimiya, Ayaka, Thoma and Hu Tao left as Scaramouche and Y/n followed behind.

"Did you have fun?" Y/n asked.

"A little." Scaramouche mumbled.

"What? Can you repeat that?" Y/n said.

"I said I didn't."

Y/n giggled. "Next time you will. I promise you."

Y/n nudged him with their arm. And picked him up from the seat, and led him away to the exit.

"Thank you for joining Izumi Karaoke!" A staff member said.

Y/n waved goodbye to the staff as they waved goodbye too.

"Right. This is a goodbye until tomorrow!" Y/n said outside the building.

"Goodnight, Ayaka, Hu Tao, Yoimiya, and Thoma! Get home safe!"

"We will! You too with Scaramouche!" Hu Tao waved.

"Goodnight!" Hu Tao and the others waved goodbye as they walked away.

"We should go now." Y/n turned around and stopped for Scaramouche to come.

"I'll walk with you, it's dangerous." Scaramouche quietly muttered.

"Right." Y/n giggled.

They walked the dimly lit streets as cars and people raced by them. Y/n and Scaramouche went to the stairs leading down to the train station. Y/n bought a ticket for themself and turned to Scaramouche who was waiting.

"I'll be alright by myself."

"You sure?" Scaramouche asked, he raised an eyebrow.

"Yep! Goodnight Scara, and get home safe." Y/n smiled warmly at Scara. The train got there just in time, they boarded the train.

"You too. Stay safe."

"See you tomorrow!" Y/n smiled and waved goodbye as the train doors closed.

The train left as Scaramouche stood there. "Stay safe, N/n." Scaramouche turned around and walked away.

it quickly dawned to the next morning, it went how everything usually went. Same days, same hours, same minutes, same seconds.

Scaramouche walked to the train station where Hu Tao and Y/n usually meet.

Scara sat at the nearest bench as they scrolled on his phone. 4 minutes quickly passed, but no sight of Y/n was to be seen.

"Where is Y/n..." Scara knew that Hu Tao wouldn't be there because she had stayed over the sleepover.

"Did they oversleep? They've never been late before. Unless they're feeling unwell." Scaramouche dialed Y/n's phone number and stood up from the bench, impatiently tapping his foot.

The train station radio went blaring.

"Breaking news, last night at 8:53 pm, a high schooler named L/n Y/n was murdered at Tevyat cityscape. Their body was found at 9:02 pm, murderer is unknown and stab wounds are fatal. Relating to the case of-"

"What?"

Scaramouche could've swore he dropped his phone.

@xyouami 10/21/23 3:35 pm

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #wanderer #kunikuzushi #wanderer genshin #wanderer x reader #genshin angst #genshin anemo #angst genshin #genshin impact angst #genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche angst #the balladeer #kabukimono #genshin kabukimono #wanderer angst #kabukimono x you #kabukimono x reader #kabukimono angst #masterlist #genshin wanderer #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

[howlingday]

A Most Unusual Unit

Good morning, or rather, good evening, "Nightshade". Excellent work on your last assignment. Thanks your efforts, the councilman has lived to see another day, much to the great benefit of Vale. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I have another assignment for you already. Your new target is the leader of the Spiders organization, "Little Miss" Charlotte Malachite. She is a grave threat to peace between Vale and Mistral. Your mission is to get close to her and gain any information that may be related to seditious activities.

In order to do this, you will have to marry and have a child.

Blake: (Spits out her coffee, Coughs) EXCUSE ME?!

Little Miss is a reclusive woman and is notably suspicious of others. At this point, she operates almost entirely behind the scenes. Her only public appearances of late have been her attendance at the elite private school her daughters attend. These events act as informal get-togethers for the upper crust of society and the lowest of low in the criminal underworld. You are to enroll your child at this school and gain entry to these events. However, admission deadlines are approaching fast. YOU'VE ONLY GOT ONE WEEK.

Blake: (Rips encoded-cypher paper in half) THEY EXPECT ME TO HAVE A CHILD IN SEVEN DAYS?! (People stare at her, Ahem!) Excuse me...

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

Blake: Listen up, little girl.

Penny: I'm Penny!

Blake: Listen up, Penny. From now on, you are my child. As far as everyone knows, however, you have always been my child. Understood?

Penny: Understood!

Blake: You will address me as "Mother," as the elites do.

Penny: Mama!

Blake: Very well.

Old Woman: What an adorable girl~.

Blake: Thank you. We're the Belladinas. We just moved in.

Penny: I'm Penny, and I have always been Mama's child!

Old Woman: Huh?

Blake: (Thinking) You don't need to say that!.

Penny: Mama, I want a silenced pistol~!

Blake: If we see one on sale.

Old Woman: What a strange family...

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

Jaune: (Answers phone) Hello, Arc residence.

Jaune: Oh, Saph!

Saphron: (Via phone) How are you doing, baby bro?.

Jaune: Good. Everything's good. I'm still hard at work in Vale!

Saphron: Still as weird as ever. Don't make me worry about you.

Jaune: You don't have to sound so mean about it! And I am not weird!

Saphron: Jaune, when are you going to get married? You find a good lady friend yet?

Jaune: (Thinking) Not this again...

Saphron: Listen, I might be offered a big promotion here soon, but that'd mean I'd be too busy to look after you. I'm not gonna say no right off the bat, but it doesn't feel right for me to abandon you in the big city. Like I always tell ya, I'm forever grateful for you taking care of me all this time, and that's why I want to make sure you're happy.

Jaune: I know, Saph. Thank you.

Saphron: I think I know some cuties out here in Argus. Maybe I could put in a good word for you?

Jaune: Ah! N-No! You don't need to do that! A-Actually, I'm heading to a party this weekend... and I'll be bringing someone!

Saphron: A girl?!

Jaune: Uh, y-yeah, I guess that's one way to describe her. So don't worry about me, okay?

Saphron: Alright. So, who's throwing this party? One of your co-workers?

Jaune: Mm-hm!

Saphron: Great! I'll have Pyrrha give me the full details on this girlfriend of yours!

Jaune: Eh?

Saphron: No offense, Jaune, but you can be pretty naive. I just want to make sure the girl you're digging isn't just digging into you, right?

Jaune: Uh, well-

Saphron: And I'm gonna hold off on this promotion until I know you're happy!

Jaune: Y-You don't need to-

Saphron: Can't wait to hear all about her, baby bro! Ciao~! (Click)

Jaune: (Hangs up, Pacing) What do I do?!. What do I do?!. I need to find a girlfriend now!. If Saph finds out I lied, she'll think there's something wrong with me!. Then she'll never get that promotion, and Terra'll be mad at me!. Adrian will never play with me again!.

Jaune: (Phone rings, Answers) Saph, listen! About what I said earlier, I was just joking! I-

Boss: (Via phone) Having family trouble?. That's unusual for you.

Jaune: Oh! Headmistress! I'm so sorry, I was-

Boss: Good evening. I have a client for you, Rusted Knight.

Jaune: (Eyes dim)

Boss: The Glass Unicorn. Room 1220.

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

Jaune: Excuse me.

Proprietor: Oh, hello again, Jaune! How can I help you?

Jaune: I'm going to a party tonight, so I need my slacks patched up ASAP. Er, if that's okay, of course.

Blake: (Flinches, Thinking) How did he get by without me noticing?!. Jaune... Hm... Right. Jaune Arc, 26 years old, never married, and never divorced. Parents deceased. Seven sisters, six dexeased, one surviving, couple years older. They're both ordinary civilians with nothing on their files. Maybe I'm getting sloppy-

Jaune: Um, miss? You've been staring at me since I came in here. Is there something I can help you with?

Blake: He sensed me watching him?!. How?!.

Blake: Oh, uh, no. I just thought... you were really cute. Excuse me for being rude.

Jaune: Wait, so... I'm good looking to you?

Blake: Um, yes?

Jaune: Miss-

Penny: Mama! I got measured! Huh? Who's she?

Blake: He's another customer, like us.

Jaune: (Thinking) I almost asked another man's wife on a date! I've heard stories of men being murdered for things like that. BUT THIS TIME, I'D BE THE ONE TO DO THE KILLING.

Penny: !

Jaune: No! I can't even fantasize about a thing so horrible! It's thoughts like those that'll expose me as an ASSASSIN.

Penny: (Thinking) A- A- A- A- ASSASSIN?!.

Blake: (Spy)

Jaune: (Assassin)

Penny: (Telepath, Starved for entertainment) SOOO COOOOL!.

Blake: I thought he'd make for a good fit for the husband role, but his intuition could threaten my mission.

Jaune: I thought she'd be able to pull off the girlfriend role, but I can't afford any kind of unnecessary bloodshed.

Penny: (Looks down, Covering her face) Oh, boo hoo hoo! I am so sad about Papa!

Blake: P-Penny?! What are you-?!

Penny: I just miss my papa so very, very, very much! If only he could see me in my pretty dress!

Jaune: Oh, is your husband away?

Blake: Ah... You see... My husband actually passed a few years ago. I've been working hard to support my daughter as a single mother.

Jaune: Then... Then no one could try to kill me if I asked her!.

Jaune: Um, excuse me...

#rwby #spy x family #rwby au #blake belladonna #penny polendina #jaune arc #saphron cotta arc #knightshade

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part ii

tags: same as before except more unhinged, (slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT), idiots in love, friends with benefits though it is more than that, oral sex (fem and male receiving), fingering, piv sex, overstimulation, thigh riding, dom!obi?, ANGST AT SOME POINT(S), tension so high that they should be on medication, me shortening every uncle-in-law phrase to uncle bcs english sucks in family terms, overuse of commas because editing 42 pages is hard

a/n: HELLO AGAIN, thank you all so much for all the love you've shown, i couldn't be more grateful. sorry for the *long* wait, i just thought the story needed a little longer than a week to do its trick, and frankly i am a busy person so 7 day gap wouldn't work for me. but i hope you can forgive me with this beast of a chapter, it is my first time writing such a long one. hope you enjoy it, and see you all again soon!

also not so fun fact: i totally misunderstood the "season", thinking it should be around summer- early autumn but it was the other way around, sorry, all the historical babes (i can no longer call myself that) for the frustration. but this timetable suits this story much better, does it not?

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three

enjoy!!!

word count: 19.7K

chapter two: it's a bad idea, right?

The morning or to be exact, the noon, is when you finally feel refreshed, ready for the challenges of the day. Lucky, because your relatives are more than understanding, has always been. They would scold you for going about your day as a ghost rather than miss breakfast or join only halfway to their other activities. You always try to honor their kindness, not to take advantage of the privileges as a guest, and do your best to spend time with your cousin Carolina, (The young girl has all the benefits of her young age, full of energy and excitement, fascinated by the stories she hears (from you, mostly)), and also avoid bringing a man into your room under their roof and absolutely ravaging each other-

The last one is an exception, which you are not proud of, yet not a single drop of guilt muddies your soul. None, considering the enjoyment or strengthened bonds.

Speaking of it, something tells you that you'd have been late anyways if you woke up early, thanks to him. There's indeed a mark on the side of your neck, just where it meets your shoulder. Also, your thighs share the same fate, though lightly, a few small bruises and red, irritated areas thanks to his neat beard. Thankfully, they're quite hidden except the one that's not that has you cursing at him. For how good it felt, and for his daredevil nature. 

You're scared to admit your fear for your future with him, not in the romantic expectations aspect, you would never, but for the simpler stuff like how are you going to look at his face and not be reminded of its presence between your legs. Or the unending tease he’ll become, even more so than usual, rightfully so. Make no mistake, you had pretty high expectations, and an overall picture of your relationships past it. Yet, last night was its own entity, reducing you to a mess in the most beautiful way, plucking every thought from your mind, yet dropping seeds of doubt like this.

Still, there’s a foolish smile on your face, and some soreness in between your legs, a welcomed ache.

Nonetheless, you’re not sure how to react when you descend the stairs, and he’s there, sharing tea with your aunt and uncle.

Obi Wan stands up in a blink, even before your aunt has the chance to react to your entry.

“Oh, here you are, sweetie! Just in time to join us in the gardens, and look, who’s here!”

“Hello, auntie. Uncle.” For what’s worth, you like being here, with them, and nothing changes that. You can feel the adamantine warm cloud of love in your chest. The reason you never doubted coming here.

“Lord Kenobi.” You greet him as well, though not with that big smile and sincerity you’ve just shown.

“My Lady.” His indifferent tone is interesting. Indifferent, yet indifferent as any other time, respectful and overly sympathetic. Maybe the situation isn’t as bad as you think? Yet, he’s here, isn’t he? His very presence is questionable enough.

“How good of the young man to join us, don’t you think? Though I fear it’s only due to work issues, and not out of courtesy.”

Yes, how good! And definitely not out of courtesy.

“You hurt me, Madam.” He objects, frowning his brows. “I must say this house, with its amiable hosts, has always had a great place in my heart. Last night once again proved it right, it was the best ball I’ve ever been to all summer. In fact, I was thinking of learning your contacts for the band and the cook, you inspired me to throw my own.”

You really, really try to not roll your eyes, and drop the tea that’s being offered to you now.

“Oh, no problem at all! I’ll write them down when we finish the paperwork in my study.” Your uncle says, and the absolute charmed look and excitation in his eyes have your stomach sinking. “And how are you, my dear? Haven’t you shaken out the morning chill yet?” He points to your shawl, wrapped tightly around your neck. You powdered the marks, and put on a big necklace, but then decided you couldn’t be too careful, and put on the fabric too.

“Yes, I think the weather change wasn’t quite easy on me this time.” You reach for the honey, making a show of it so they don’t put you in the center of attention.

“Did you sleep well last night?”So, it doesn’t work. And that’s about the one question you hoped to avoid.

“Despite the exertion taking place-“ Kenobi’s eyes widen, exaggerated by the teacup basically covering other parts of his face, and for a second you think he may choke on his tea. “downstairs, I say it was the best sleep I could’ve ever had.”

You hope your acting inspires the same in him too. He suppresses that little cough well, and the blush settling in his cheeks is faint, easily blamed on the warmth of the drink.

Strike one.

Irritation grows in you, rather than anxiety. Does he really think you’re that crude? That dumb? You make a point of not looking his way after that, an attitude clearly noticed by him in no time. It’s not like he has any chance of talking about it, but the alarm bell in his head rings continuously, busying his mind ‘til the opportune moment comes to talk about it.

Then, a gleeful screech of your name fills the room. In a blink, your cousin is right next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulder that you can’t properly stand up and hug her back in a normal way.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up all day long!” She says, hands reaching to hold yours, almost causing you to lose control of the fabric covering your neck. “We’ve got so much to do! And you were going to tell me all about Naboo! Did you really get to see the lions?”

“Sweetie-“ Despite the wildness of the affection you are given, there’s a huge smile on your face, and you almost make her sit on your lap- an old habit from her younger years.

“Come now- you promised to go riding with me. I want to show you how much I improved.”

“Well-“ your poor, poor legs are in no condition for that kind of activity. “I think it’s best if we do that tomorrow. You see, I had enough of it yesterday, I’ve been in a carriage all day.”

His smirking, twinkling eyes.

Strike two.

Your furious gaze kills that gleam quickly though. The faint smirk disappears, and he straightens his back, clearing his throat.

“Carolina, can’t you see we have a guest? Where are your manners? And give your poor cousin some space, for God’s sake!” Your aunt exaggerates like any mother of her generation, that high pitched voice screeching every ear in the room.

You should be glad to see the subject changed, but the condition of it is bitter. She bows her head down, taking a few steps away from you, but you hold onto her hand, keeping her near.

“Hello, young lady. I am Obi Wan Kenobi.” He sounds- sympathetic, though not overly. It is this sweet balance between respecting their being without the prejudices of age, but compassionate enough not to crush them under expectations they are yet to achieve. Interpreting this from just a couple of words seems a bit of a stretch, you know, still, his whole attitude screams he’s got some experience talking to kids, or considerable knowledge about the human psyche.

“He’s a friend of mine.” You explain further, trying to ease her.

“Welcome, Lord Kenobi.” She curtsies, yeah, she’s perfected that, you observe with proud eyes.

“I didn’t see you at the ball last night, I’m afraid.” Like he was there longer than an hour.

“It was past my bedtime.” The look she gives her parents tells him all he needs to know about her character, or precisely who influences her. He wonders if it was any similar to yours.  “I hope you had a wonderful time. You must’ve, because she’s an excellent dancer.” She turns at you, smiling so innocently that you can’t blame her for complicating things. “She taught me all about it, even better than my tutors.”

“Oh, no, we didn’t-“ The sentence synchronically rolls from both of your tongues, but you stop as you realize. There’s an abrupt silence in the room for a few seconds, causing anger to bubble up in you once more, and forcing you to make up an excuse to break free from this atmosphere.

“Hey,” You tug on her arm, “I’ve brought candy.” And just like that, she’s jumping all over you, bouncing with joy, “Sshh,” You warn. “First we need to go somewhere unseen.”

===

You see him again, days after, when he’s clearly learned his lesson, and gave you a window to breathe, calm your fury. The worst thing? It works. You can imagine (or in other words daydream) the next time you two see each other, which you desperately wish for it to be soon, and picture keeping yourself from stepping onto his feet, or shoving your finger into his chest. It all could not be forgotten but worked out through little warnings and explanations. Communication, basically.

And it turns out, you don't have to imagine any longer, and have the perfect opportunity to test your temper.

In a cafe. Where you sit alone. Blissfully ignorant of the couples (or to-be-couples) surrounding you. But most importantly, unchaperoned. (You had your tongue to defy any unwanted presence, and it's not like people came here alone like yourself. They came here for dates. And if anything, your presence was a litmus paper. What was to happen in marriage, if one couldn’t even keep their eyes from others in those little flirtatious rendezvous?)

(Though you knew some didn’t see it that way. A temptress, their choice of word to describe you.)

Obi Wan walks up to your table in quick, big steps that somehow don’t capture the attention of anyone but you. A further proof of that magic dust he sprinkles.  He’s dressed in browns today. It is a welcomed change. The smile on his face is unbeatably prominent, even as he follows the guide of manners, bowing his head and removing his hat before he sits in front of you. There’s no indication of his previous whereabouts in his looks and you wonder how he found you. Was he simply passing by the establishment before noticing your presence, or did he inquire about your engagements today, asking around?

"You shouldn't be here." It’s that sweet tone of yours, an alarm said in the softest of inclinations. “I have no company.” While it is redundant to both of your mindsets, the need of a chaperone for every conversation you have with strangers, you like to be cautious.

Then let me be it, he would’ve said, if it wasn’t literally the first time after your distasteful encounter. He’s not going to throw away that lesson for a shot of comedy. Or the fact that it’s hardly a request, but again- It’s not worth it. “I just wanted to say how sorry I was for the last time. It was- unadvisable to say the least.”

That- feels so good to hear, somehow. Far better than expected. You lean back in your chair, a sly smile on your face that you can’t help, and a subtle blush, a total contrast to your attitude.

“What can I say though? I don’t know if it’s still possible to be unsatisfied, but I sure felt like that if I didn’t see you again.”

Your fingers grasp the fork far too tightly, considering you have no appetite left for the desert in front of you. It’s the flashbacks from that night, and the undeniable effects it had on both of you.  

“Well, apology accepted.” 

He releases a breath after your words, visibly relaxed, amusing you further. You focus your gaze on the plate, in hopes of blending this conversation into the atmosphere around. 

You add. “Then again, don’t take my forgiveness for granted. None of my partners were this careless, and I seriously expected better from you.” 

(You're quite aware this is not the sort of conversation fit here.)

The interruption of “Oh, that will never even cross my mind.”, turns into “Partners?”, thankfully in a whisper, but sharp enough that it holds the same value as a shriek. He plays it off like it’s a frivolous question, a part of your ongoing banter, a mere thread to spin the conversation.

As if you gave the perfect impression of a blushing virgin that night. You flutter your lashes, as you take a bite. The silence is absolutely deafening, before you can continue. “There’s a reason I like traveling that much. Naboo. Correlia. Alderaan. God, even Hoth.” The discomfort in his face grows, and you fight it with an explanation, hoping that’s the reason. “Never at the same time, though, if it wasn’t obvious. It was just about having good company if I was to spend months in a city.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He shakes his head, an act of his nonjudgemental nature. “So, am I the Coruscant part of your little play?”

“No. You're the exception.” You laugh. “I haven’t- not here. I wouldn’t dare. Too little privacy. No trust. Above all, not a single soul that felt like a match of my own. Til I met you.” He deserves to hear that, right? “However I must say, the rules would be a little different here. Requires more caution. Fine work. For example, you couldn’t come and see me like this whenever you desire."

"Fair enough." He agrees, though makes little effort to follow the lesson. Actually, not even little, none. He just sits there, moulding into his chair further, a pleasant grin as he takes the world in, entertaining himself with the surrounding people. And you, of course. His piercing gaze travels back to you, every time.

Well, right. Not like you wanted him off of your table. "What do you want, Lord Kenobi?" And how did you know I would be here anyway? 

"Are you coming to the picnic on Saturday, in the Perlemian Park?"

You were certainly thinking about it. "Possibly."

"I'm only going if you are joining too." He wets his lips, an action you don't miss, and you continue to watch it long after he's done and see the next words coming out, before your brain can comprehend their meaning. "So, I'll need a better answer." 

The same lips that mapped out your entire body, whispered all those dirty things, tasted your hidden corners, drinking in the pleasure it provided…

He clears his throat, and you break out of the trance. He looks at you with a brow lifted, but the twinkles behind his blue eyes tell you it's not out of boredom. More like the exact opposite. 

"I'll be there." 

This is his cue to leave, with excitement for the said event, and a tinge of sadness for this interaction ending. You mirror his manners as he bids you a good day. 

Then, you're left alone, exactly as merely half an hour ago. Yet, the dessert in front of you is unsavory, nowhere near enough to satisfy your sweet tooth.  

It is still completely the same.

=== 

Comes Saturday, and does it come slower than possible… The weather seems like it's making one last show before the summer ends and scorches the earth, leaving everyone a sweating mess, little to no words coming out of their mouth, sprawled on the nearest surface. You seriously debate whether calling the offer off, the choice of fanning yourself to a lazy nap sounding better and better. It is in these extensive relaxations that you uncover the horrid truth- your fingers fell short in bringing you pleasure now, making you an even more sweaty, frustrated mess rather than the relaxed, drowsy mess you want to be. It is an awful revelation, bringing along many questions that haunt your every waking hour. You fear it's got something to do with him- and the best prescription for you is to stay away.

Alas, you keep true to your promise and show up. 

Thankfully the air has calmed down on said day, and sorbets are refreshing, making it more than a bearable experience. Bearable is actually an insult in this case, for it is more than that. These people are some of your oldest friends, close to your age, and share your opinions. It is hard not having fun when you are allowed to be free (just a little more than normal, though it is enough). None cares about the obscene gossip, or juices of fruit staining faces, dripping onto the expensive fabrics you all are adorned in. Laughs are loud and constant, never letting three minutes go without them. Hands are all flying around, hitting each other as a joke, reaching for the last piece of cake, taking the very dangerous road back without spilling a drop of the drink (which is, once again, a target of pranks).

Obi Wan enjoys it as much as you do, despite the fact that he doesn’t know them like you do. His life doesn’t allow much leisure time, and his choice of friends is mostly unfitting to these kinds of events, but he doesn’t have a problem finding joy in these kinds of events. Maybe it is mostly due to you, watching you in your nature, admiring the way you handle yourself among the crossfire of jokes, or what foods you prefer the most, making silly expressions as the taste of them hits just right. With every little thing he learns about you, he’s drawn closer to you. Once, he would name you a mystery, yet that would indicate the thrill was all in revelation. Now, it is the exact opposite. He gets more excited with each new question, like what is the actual story behind the “donkey joke” you are hinting at, or why do you pick some of the seemingly perfectly looking strawberries aside and pick others- or why you blush when you catch him looking at you, only to do the same yourself?

It is only in the afternoon that the buzz leaves its place for something serene. Conversations diminish, replies take longer, bodies sag and lean on the nearest surface, be the tree trunks or picnic baskets or their loved ones.

C’mon then, let’s take a walk. One proposes, and others follow, albeit slowly and with protests. You are among the latter, every cell in your body refusing to produce or use energy.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you end up at the very back of the group with Lord Kenobi, and while you manage to stick with him unlike your friends, the distance between you and them grows and now, you can safely say that you’ve lost the sight of them. Twenty minutes ago.

So yes, you’ve been walking alongside him in silence. Far away that you don’t brush hands, yet so close that it would raise questions if someone were to see.

“I don’t think this is doing much for my somnolence.” He basically yawns.

"Should I take that as an insult, my Lord?" 

"Why would you- what did I say to make you think so?" He shakes his head, as stubborn as he's apologetic, ready to accept the accusation if your reasons are firm. Still, his heart is already pacing up, distressed. That must be the wine taking over.

"Well, am I not the only reason for your presence? And I must be boring you, if you are still feeling drowsy." 

"No- Absolutely untrue- “ He stutters, a panic to find the right words, not to be buried under your claims, he is not going to lose his chance to be by your side- only to realize the grin on your face too late.

"You little minx." He breathes out, and is rewarded by the sound of your tempting giggle. 

"Seems like I successfully rid you of your problem." You take pride. "And now, I suggest walking by the lake, to ensure its permeance."

"You mean to dip my feet in the water?" Again, he shakes his head, already rejecting the proposition.

"If you don't do it I shall." You skip, prancing like a nymph before he grabs you by the arm. 

“I don’t think that is safe.”

“It perfectly is.” You state, bewildered by his anxious urge. One look into his hand, and he remembers to let you go. The said hand flies to his hair, with an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, but – let me be by your side. And make it quick.”

The fact that he thinks you need his approval is downright funny, though you’d take issue with it any other time. Now, you are amused by his good intended worries and don’t have it in your conscience to break his heart over it, or bring up a quarrel.

So, you start undressing. Only your socks and shoes.

Still, the blush settles on his cheeks, and the light behind his eyes burns brighter as he sees the skin just above your knees naked. Not for the first time- still, he feels like turning his back on you, but does no such thing. And that is not because it defeats the purpose of his presence.

God, how could you even make you believe he wasn’t planning on having these impure thoughts?

You feel your temperature rising, and it has nothing to do with the sun. You meet his hypnotized eyes, and can still feel it focused on you. After days of dissatisfaction, its effect is multiplied by ten, making your heart race. You pray none of it is visible on your face. the last thing you need is for him to know.

He laughs when you lay the white fabric in the old woods of the docks, like the spoiled child you are. It is more than likely to stain, but more importantly, it is definitely old, creacking under every step, hence his aversion to sit beside you with a head shake. You shrug in return, and pull your skirt slightly above your knees, swinging your legs back and forth.

“Oh, this is lovely!” You say, sprawling your toes in the water. “Truly, you are missing out.”

“I believe you, my Lady.” His tone is joyful, just the right combination of trust and mockery.

You turn to look at him, a big mistake. The excess part of your dress brushes the surface, wetting the fabric, though it is the last thing you care. He is looking at you, with that charming grin, and subtle hunger etched into his gaze, screaming worship, in complete awe of the scene he's beholding, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, holding his hand, her dress bunched up like in those ancient paintings of fairies, and endless passion for the leading role of it. It swirls the emotions deep inside your belly, the only reaction you want to avoid. Yet, you’re not immune to it. your heart skips a beat, the tingles overtaking your skin.

“Look- I see fishes!” You whip your head, the one thing you can do in hopes of breaking the tension. You lean forward, trying to get a clear view, or try to do so because you are stopped by his grip.

“That’s enough.” The command sends a shiver down your spine. “You shouldn’t go any further.”

“Fine.” You huff, the simplest protest you can manage. His touch softens as he realizes you’re going to follow his words, though takes long to let go.

A few minutes pass in the silence of nature.

“How long are you going to stand like this?” You ask, exasperated that this isn’t going anything like you imagined.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m also standing, this is hardly fun.”

“That is only the result of your own choice.”

Narrowing your eyes, you huff and climb back on your feet, disregarding the objections of the offended dock. Then, you push past him- 

He suddenly pulls you back, promptly disrupting your balance, a tactic he uses to pick you up into his arms. You scream as your feet meet the air, hands grabbing anything they can reach which ends up being his clothes.

“What are you doing?!” You yell, burying your fingers into him. With how strong your grip is, you can feel every muscle tensing under your touch. 

“I’m not gonna let you walk in that mud, after all.” He explains like it was the problem you were referring to.”

“My shoes! – and-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

He adores the pout you have as he fetches them.

He leans his back on the tree, and you rest your arms on your knees, propped up.

“So, we are to sit here and sulk?”

“If you name it so.” His smile is borderline insulting, ear to ear. With one look, he points at the reason- your wet feet. There’s literally no choice but to wait for them to dry up. But by proposing the only solution, he infuriates you further.

“Very interesting.” You snark. “I would’ve just stood back if I knew this was what we would be doing.”

“And now it is I who might take those words as an insult. Have I somehow proven my companionship to be loathsome in the times we spent together?”

Times you spent together… The flashbacks are, as implied in their name, flash before your eyes at such great speed that by the time you realize it is not something you should ponder upon now, your heart rate is already up, the flame deep in your belly ignited once again, and even the sounds of the past are echoing in your ears. You turn your head away from him, cursing at the color blooming on your cheeks.

Oh, but the action is enough to let him know exactly what you are feeling, a song of “I thought so” on his tongue- yet he doesn’t sing it yet, realizing the underestimation of his own emotions. He brings it upon himself- a glance at you, taking in your red face (as much as possible) and bare legs, let out to the sun to dry up.

“Well, I’ll think that’s the case if you don’t say anything.” He opts to say this instead, loving to taunt you further. 

“It’s not.” You mumble, still turned to the other side, fingernails digging at your palm.

“I can’t hear you, dear.”

“I said-“

The moment you move your head, you are met with his face, so close to yours, a distance he promptly closes by placing a hand at your neck, and tugging at it, ‘til your lips crash. You lose your balance once more, gripping his collars to not fully crush him with your weight. You gasp, the only protest you have in yourself, because for all your resolve to stay away, here you are, falling right into his arms. And it feels so damn good.

You gasp, pushing him. He laughs as his back hits the tree, never once breaking eye contact.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You whisper-scream, suddenly aware of the fact that while you are all alone on this field, your friends are still very much around.

“Oh, what am I doing? It is you, darling, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you were looking at me.”

You direct your gaze to the ground, embarrassment getting the better of you.

“What is it?” He questions your lack of defiance. “You had no problem before. Don’t tell me you’re scared of being seen. They should at least be like, a mile away.”

Yeah. That’s absolutely correct. Besides, you’re shielded from any unwanted visitors by the thick line of trees, and the sheer distance between there and the path. It is a secluded corner of the lakeside.

“Or is there something else that’s bothering you?” This, is said in a more suggestive tone, and its effect is only amplified by the way he holds your chin to refocus your attention. You burn under his grasp and insistent watch.

Say farewell to your pride.

You let yourself fall over him once more, kissing him with a whimper you can’t quite suppress. You feel his smirk at that, but neither of you dwells on it, for he too lets out a sound of desperation, panting as he pulls you close, placing you on his thigh. (You hear your dress positively rubbing against the grass, and dare not to imagine the green blotch that may appear.) You don’t know whether to celebrate your newfound closeness or chastise your weak will, for it creates a new wave of desire in you as you delve your fingers into his beard. Your skin lights up against his coarse hair, so familiar yet so unyielding under your touch, and to be holding his face in your hands like this only blinds you more. So blind that you only realize the movement of your hips, seeking pleasure, when he holds them.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” A kiss right on the left corner of your lips. “Are you haunted by that night so deeply that you are unable to satisfy your needs on your own, like me? Or hell, with another?” Even in the midst of haze, you don’t miss the way his eyes darken at the mention of a third party.

“No- only you.” You whisper, too afraid of things ending.

“Fuck.” He can’t help but burst at your surrender. “That’s my girl. Lift your hips a little for me, darling.”

You oblige without question, raising yourself on your trembling thighs. Holding your breath, imagining all the things he can do to you… He is bewitched by your neediness, the way you moan at the first contact his hand makes with your skin after lifting your skirt just above your knees so you have more freedom to move, and can directly sit on his thigh.  

Speaking of it, why? Your eyebrows scrunch as he pushes you down like that, though the actual questioning part comes a second after your clit rubs against the fabric, not his cock, the first jolt of true ecstasy you experienced in a while, but that can’t be the case for him, right? “What are you-?”

“Trust me.” He takes his sweet time to relish the expense of your neck, so close for his taking, partly to ease your nerves, and frankly it is too much fun for his own good to feel you twitch in anticipation, and your breath getting stolen away at his open-mouthed kisses, panting when he lingers on a spot for too long at the fear of him leaving a bruise. “No marks, I perfectly remember.” He has to confess after a point, and only after that point, you begin to truly relax, and have your heart beating so fast at the same time, noticing your wetness is positively seeping into his clothes.

Your jaw hangs open with a silent pant as he decides it’s enough, and guides your body, rocking onto his. It’s not something you haven’t done before, but there’s something so unique about now, maybe the scandalous location, or your depraved state, or simply everything regarding him, that you are convinced it looks like your first time. Shit, it may even be your first time, considering the previous examples are nowhere close to this, the stakes, the desperation, the payoff… You’re holding onto his shoulders like a fucking virgin, pressed so close to receive every bit of affection he's giving. It’s the damn heat, the greatest excuse on your lips for the last couple of weeks, invalidated by the nonexistence of space between you and him. It only causes sweat to pour out of both of you, like the constant drip out of your cunt, sabotaging all your attempts to gain control, and create the slightest of frustration. 

“Obi Wan.” You chant his name, unable to form any other word, and he drinks it all in, valiantly ignoring the ache in his cock. It is a hard task, a growing challenge as your knee brushes against it from time to time, especially when you try to take initiative and escape the rhythm he’s trying to create.

“Ah-ah-ah- Let me take over. You know we’re short on time, darling.”

Then, he does justice to his words as he bounces his leg, the added pressure claiming a gasp from you.

“Do that again.” What your efforts can't get you, maybe your pleads can. After all, you're just as stubborn as him, giving up easily is not on your book.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”  

You roll your eyes, though it is totally due to annoyance, and let out a moan, throwing your head back. The fresh air does nothing for your lungs anymore, just an outlet for your scandalous noises. Which, he has no complaints too, your erratic breaths warmed his neck enough, and blessed him with those sweet sounds, right under his ear. Oh, but in any other case, this was anywhere else, and he had to silence you, also which he has no complaints too. Perhaps the sole problem is missing the blissed out expressions of your pretty face, and the light in your eyes, burning for him.

“Are you close?” Like he even needs to ask, like he’s not aware of your moans turned whimpers.

“Hmmh.” Is all the answer he gets, and that’s enough for him, laughing quietly, as you feel the vibrations of his chest.

When you cum, it is indeed an earth-shattering moment, and an end to your misery, the first drop of water after thirst- so much so that you don’t care about it happening in such a short time. Your legs squeeze his firm thigh, shaking over them like the rest of you. His one hand travels to your waist, holding you steady and pressed against him. You swear you can feel every aspect of his hand over three layers of fabric, yet he’s not actually exerting that much power, treating you like a delicate flower, afraid to crush the silky petals.

You sigh as the trembles die down, your senses coming back to you one by one- the first and foremost the tension in the body beneath you. Your fingers loosen from his collars, and travel the expanse of his torso slowly, a kiss to his throat in the meantime.

“Don’t you worry about me.” His voice is slightly shaky, though it may very well be due to his exertion.

“I think I should.” Its trueness is further proven when you palm him, and he groans. Though he is insistent.

“Look at you, you sweet thing, concerned with me walking around with a hard-on.”

That has you rolling your eyes, and removing your hand. Removing your entire body, even. You settle on the grass, leaning on your elbows. Your dress is already ruined, so you’re past the point of worrying.

“On the other hand, you may want to think about this.” He points to his wet trousers, the dark stain visible even though the fabric is black.

Uh oh. That is indeed a problem, if you are to return soon. Unfortunately, your brain can’t grasp the danger, coming up with solutions like soaking him entirely in the lake… 

So, it’s no wonder that your next words are a joke.“You marked me, I marked you. We're even.”

To your surprise, it works. His laughter fills the entire forest, yours a whisper in comparison. The idea that maybe, just maybe this can be repeated every now and then, that it wouldn't harm anyone fills your chest with a different kind of cheer, a hopeful sensation that suits the summer. He's proven his carefulness, making the best of the situation without risking either of you. The rising hope in you should scare you, but it doesn't. It only makes you sprawl under the sun like a cat enjoying the heat, and join his laughter with a big grin.

“Fair. Absolutely fair.”

===

The next time you see each other again, things seem to cool down a bit. It is entirely a civil dinner, always at a respectable distance, the number of times you lock eyes are countable on one hand (though some border the edge of being a little too long), and it is all not so surprisingly, plain. Maybe it is about both of you trying to contain one’s self, so much so that the other core aspect of both of you, the humorous side is buried that night and no other person can live up to its ghost. Perhaps it is due to the upcoming end of summer, bringing out a tinge of melancholy, already mourning the past, thus your impulses dwindle down, the sparkles absent.

That is, ‘til, you are the only occupants in the saloon, after the other guests have left, and your aunts retreated to their rooms. You are reading a book, barely aware of the fact when he, sitting next to you in that single armchair drops whatever pen he’s holding, just by your feet. You’re pulled out of your trance by the sound it creates, raising your gaze from the page just in time to see him bending over to retrieve it or- ending up completely kneeling in front of your legs.

He raises his head, and you watch the way his face softly being illuminated by the candlelight, a smile you can’t decide whether charming or devilish, long abandoning his mission.

That’s the moment the air shifts, and the room feels hotter like the cheminee is lit, the heat wave has returned, and taken both of you to that lakeside, and the week before it, the frustration and despair that came with being unable to take care of yourself. You haven’t felt such a thing after, perhaps, it’s due to your fulfilled state and therefore lack of trial, but now, the need returns, like adding more to an already full cup, realization only hitting after the drops spill from the sides. The cup demands to be emptied, - translation: your soul demands whatever pleasure you can get your hands on- and the image of him causing it is certainly a preference.

(Again, it is your soul that’s demanding it- your brain would very much like to lock you away in the furthest corner of this house, or kick him, if that’s all you can manage.)

“Excuse me?”

“I just remembered how I failed to say how beautiful you look tonight.” 

“Thank you.” Your mouth speaks before you can protest the improperness of your situation. Color settles on your cheeks for accepting his compliment first. “What are you doing?”

“Collecting my pen.” He shrugs, and demonstratively takes it to his hand, yet it is once more left to the ground instead of the nearest table, with the rest of his papers. He adds, “I admire how you are an expert in navigating every social situation, whether it's a boring dinner like this, or a ball.

Your eyebrows raise at the boring part, after all, it's hosted by your relatives, and it wasn't exactly boring, maybe a little uneventful. “Not every occasion has to be full of adventure, Lord Kenobi. Slow nights like this are beneficial for the soul. Gives the mind some rest.” 

He purses his lips, like he’s been told on his bluff, the one part he emphasized to sound strong. Because, he is. He had fun tonight, the type that fills one’s heart with sweet lethargy. “I suppose you’re correct. But you’re missing out on an important detail.”

“And what is that?”

“The right company.”

You’re glad that your hands were pressing against the book, holding the page, because if they weren’t, they would be visibly shaking.

“I have underestimated how much I missed you, that much is clear to me now.” Barely speaking, or barely speaking anything important with you throughout the evening, yet he feels rejuvenated, the ache in his chest becoming prominent as it starts the heal. He doesn’t say the last part, but the sentiment is reflected in the soft sparkle behind his eyes, the hypnotic storm, pulling you towards unknown chaos, but beautiful, and promising safety in its center. That’s why you don’t protest as his hand reaches for yours, brushing your knee (he wanted to do that for some time, to feel the soft fabric that basically decorates your body), interlocking fingers, and reluctantly retreating them in favor of taking the book that sits in your lap, setting it aside. You don’t protest, despite the screams in your head, saying he’s right there why is he still there-

 “And the other thing I missed terribly, the sight of your legs.”

Your shaky inhale echoes.

His fingers gently close over your ankles, and travel upwards slowly, lifting your dress alongside. “Though I’ve only seen them twice, they might be my favorite view, ever.”

“Is that so?” You are perplexed by the confession, with a lazy grin, very much enjoying the seduction. His way with words seems like a constant threat to your sanity, but damn do you adore it dearly, a voluntary victim to its spell.

“Why would I ever lie to you?” He whispers, hands tightening. “I like them very much. But I think I would like them better around my shoulders.” He pulls your knees slightly, causing you to yelp as your back caves in, and grasps your ankles once more, proceeding to demonstrate exactly his words.

“What are you doing?” You ask, like you don’t know the answer. It is a statement, an acknowledgment, the last chance to bring some sense into any of you. You’re in the living room, in a house that is not your own, filled with people who are still very well awake, and can just decide to come in.

“Having a second dessert, if I may?” And how can you refuse, after the image is served to you on a golden plate?

“But at the lake - You were-” 

“You think I'm doing this for recompensation?”

“No, I didn't mean to imply that.” God, this is embarrassing. “I just wanted to say I might miss having my way with you.”

“I’ll be glad to take that as a promise.”

Then, it is settled. 

Still, he waits for your small nod and takes in the way you bite your lip, wishing he was the one to do so, but- priorities. Time is a valuable asset, especially now, and he has to honor his offer. That’s why he opts for a few small, open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, actively fighting the desire to leave bruises, evidence, a memory. Judging by the rapidness of your breath, it seems he has reached his goal in some way. It’s the beard- scratching your skin even when his mouth is not doing something, sensitizing the flesh and making it all too susceptible to the incoming assault. Your hand flies up, absentmindedly reaching for his hair, yet stopping a second before, landing on the couch instead- if you messed up his hair, there’s no coming back from it. He chuckles at your struggle, the warm breath making you squirm. Even if you don’t, he’s maddened by action, despite the laugh. He has you- but not really. He’s enveloped in your heat, taking in your scent, and seconds away from tasting you, but is not able to be blessed with the slight pain he'd felt if you tugged on his strands, or the untamed sounds you’d have sung in a more private setting.

So yes, he’s as torn and desperate as you. Slow nights, you said? 

Truth be told, it doesn’t matter what adjective comes before the word; slow or fast, boring or exciting as hell, freezing or hellishly hot; if it is with you, it is a good night. Otherwise, it is lacking. The world may be painted gray forever, considering you two mostly don’t get the chance to spend more than two occasions together in a week, but there can be no comparison to colorful scene of those moments.

And this is the night Obi Wan admits that fact.

You both moan, when his tongue finally meets your cunt, licking a messy stripe. It is more of a vibration than a noise- possibly for the best. It makes you jolt, and his hold tightens, and again, it is for the best, because when he decides to pay attention to your clit after his time exploring your folds is done, your limbs start to shake, threatening to fall. Your eyes roll back when things settle, and pleasure starts to build up, your juices flowing, and he drinks it all in before they have the chance to make a mess of your dress.

That is the first time he takes a break. “Eyes on me, darling.”

What is with him and that special request?

Your whine doesn’t mean anything to him, except make his cock twitch in his now tight trousers- but that has other reasons too. He waits ‘til your eyelids open once more, and you meet his gaze, and a second longer, unable to resist the urge to get lost in your hazy expression. Then, he dives back in, swirling the muscle around your bundle of nerves. In any other circumstance, you’d have thought this would be too indelicate, so straight to the point, no fun or respect, yet his way to do so is anything but those qualities. His movements are precisely designed for you, slow enough to not cause discomfort, fast enough to make the best of your unknown time limit. You’re afraid to deduce that one time was enough for him to learn you, one time to turn your world upside down, and leave you to deal with the memory of it. 

“Sweetie?” That’s the first time your eye contact is broken. The world freezes for a second before it does, and your head whips to the direction the sound has come from, to find your aunt by the door. Miraculously, she continues to stand there, unbothered by the long and protective distance which compromises of the dining table and the back of your couch, a perfect cover for the scandal that is taking place. Obi Wan stills, perhaps even stops breathing, yet he’s the one to snap you out of your shock with his grip around your skin. It is ridiculously encouraging, knowing he's not abandoning you on your own, even at the expense of getting caught, and the dread it would surely follow.

“Yes, auntie?” You gulp. Trying not to sound breathless is a clear effort.

“Have you seen Lord Kenobi?”

Your reputable smartness lags, the answer of yeah, he’s right here IN BETWEEN MY LEGS, occupying your mind.  “I think he went out to get some air, I haven’t seen him for some time.”

“How odd.” She comments, “And what are you doing there on your own?”

“Reading my book.” You smile, and hope your cheeks’ tremble isn’t too noticeable. “It’s quite good- couldn’t tell the time.”

She scorns. “Oh, now I see- he must’ve gotten bored as you were buried in your book. You truly should work on your guest etiquette, dear. And Lord Kenobi, of all people!”

“Auntie!” Your eyes widen, and you squeal a little, and feel Obi Wan giggling quietly.

“I’m just saying, that you should treat him better- he’s a good person, and obviously fancies you.”

“Auntie!”

“I mean, I like him? Don’t you like him?”

The urge the scream has never been stronger.

To escape the subsequent questions should you answer otherwise, you give in, and sag.” I do.” And the worst thing is, you actually do. Objectively, you like him, all his little jokes and sweet tongue (no pun intended), the elegant form he carries himself in, and the kind nature he never fails to live up to. Except for the dangerous extent your relationship is getting into, there’s nothing about him that you don’t like. And truthfully, even that is barely a matter you care about, proven by your current situation. 

You can feel him smile, the coarse facial hair biting into your skin, rubbing like a cat, and the sensation is followed by a kiss on your thigh. 

“Then you know what I am saying is the truth.” She raises her eyebrows in a motherly manner, a loving attempt of intervention. “Don’t stay up too late, no matter how absorbing that book is. We are invited for breakfast to the Mon’s Estate.”

Thankfully, she’s gone like that, saving you the act.

When you turn to your front again you find the need to come up with a warning to make him shut up unnecessary for he kisses you, silencing both of you. The action brings color to your cheeks more than ever in this entire evening. The fact that you can taste yourself on his tongue aside, he’s so gentle about it, like congratulating your success, or admiring your talent, pouring out his affection for you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his wide torso, it is how good it feels. When you two part, the lack of breath gets the best of you, only then do the swarming butterflies in your stomach begin to disturb you again.

But you’re not so quick to forget the last couple of minutes. Perhaps you've spoken too soon back then at the lake, thinking this could be continued. You’d imagined the rest of this scene a little differently, letting him follow you to your room, returning the favor, but that scare has only helped you to brew a storm inside you.

“Obi Wan…” You whisper, brows cinched in concentration as he towers over you, claiming all your senses. “We can’t- we have to stop…”

“Sshh, calm down.” His thumb draws circles on your skin, trying to soothe you in one aspect, if not every. He’s not going to let you go to your bed shaken like this, for starters. “Take a deep breath.”

You try, twice before you can manage to fill your lungs in their entirety, and your achievement is rewarded with a peck to your neck. Some of the air leaves you in an abrupt exhale because of it, and he curses himself for it.

“Follow my lead.” He tries again, reclining on his knees, giving you space. It is another challenge to look into his ocean eyes, and match his pattern, but you manage, your heart beat semi-regular after a minute or so.

Semi, for said eyes and your bare pussy are face to face, and all common sense loses its importance, burned by the fire inside you.

“Obi Wan- please…”

“You sure?” He will be very disappointed if you change your mind, but he has to ask, play the sensible part. And ignore the constant throb in his trousers that has become even more unbearable after you confessed your feelings.

“Just… make it quick.” Oh, are you seriously requesting an orgasm like ordering a cake in a café?

“As you wish, love.”

He starts out the same, just playing his game a little faster, and he holds your hand as he does so, the small detail as efficient as his moves. But, the final blow is his other hand, prodding against your entrance. The flood of memories doesn’t help either, as you remember that night. A loud moan threatens to leave you, and you slap your palm against your mouth. He stops ‘til you are secured, praise in his eyes, and pushes the two digits in, stretching you out in the way. Your fingers are nothing in comparison, and he notices it immediately, the way your walls hug him. 

Though, he’s an expert, and can absolutely manage to take care of you properly, so there’s nothing but pleasure, your slick channel welcoming the intrusion. It is not long before he feels the resistance fading and returning in a new form, as your climax approaches, and your muscles begin to quiver.

With your noises secured in your throat, the only form of communication is your connected hands, squeezing each other sometimes enough to risk breaking fingers. He understands what you mean perfectly, reaching up to a certain speed, then keeping it the same ‘til you start trashing, legs violently shaking around his body, and juices dripping, this time more than he can clean up. If any other time, he wouldn’t stop ‘til he feasted on every drop of it, but he withholds himself, respecting the clouds of danger. He’s glad to have helped with your anxiety, yet he doesn’t want to carry the ease to dangerous level and make you susceptible to be swayed in whatever direction.

Well, the image of his messy, wet beard certainly sends you through the wrong one, but already your nerves are not able to take more risks tonight, so you just bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, and lower your legs to the ground as he starts by cleaning out his fingers. It is hard to believe any man would try this much to indulge in your every aspect, but here he is, careful about even the smallest part.

Damn, you want to take him to your room and let him have his way with you so bad- but this is enough adventure for a night.

“Good night, Lord Kenobi.” You say, fixing your skirt, and standing up on shaky legs with your book clutched in the tightest grip against your belly.

“Good night, darling.” He nods, a content smile. “Send my compliments to the chef. “

===

“Lord Kenobi?”

You’re justified in your shock, enough to express it out loud in the middle of the jewelry shop, the last place you’d expect to run into him. Of course, he’s a neat and subtle man, and his appearance reflects his statue, though in a very calculated yet effortless manner. His pocketwatch is a family heirloom, so you’ve been told, a chic piece he takes great care of, and while his cufflinks are always elegant, it is never that eye-catching. It only compliments its wearer, you dare say, a final addition to an already completed painting.

(You never denied his handsomeness, and this is an objective opinion. Don’t read much into it.)

His supposed loneliness coupled with the fact that he looks utterly lost and bored, your curiosity is aggravated further.

Also, bumping into each other? What is this, a trick of fate?

“Madame.” He bows, and moves to press a kiss to your hand, the tradition not forgotten. His shock is easily ridden, unlike yours. The small blush on his cheeks and the wide grin on his lips tell contradictory stories, not that you’re judging, but the evident thing is his excitement.

“What are you doing he-”

“What a coincidence-“ His interruption is most unexpected, along with the high pitch in his voice.

You tilt your head, further dazed, but before the suspicion creeps in (you would be terrified to turn your gaze and find women’s accessories laid out for his picking on the table, for somebody else or for you; the latter being the lesser evil, but still disturbing), another joins, though he doesn’t seem to notice you at first.

“How helpful you are being, Obi Wan!” The tall young man with light brown hair calls out, necklaces hanging from both hands. You have a feeling that if he wasn’t busy, there would’ve been a physical reaction as well, a friendly pat on his shoulder, perhaps. “Don’t you know this is important? I need-“

His sentence is broken when he catches your attentive gaze, and realizes you are a part of this conversation as well. You’re amused by how glass-like he is, full of emotions and not afraid to show them. He looks at you, and back to Obi Wan, who finally decides it’s time for an introduction. The expression of recognition flashes through his face in a second as your name is revealed, but you can’t reflect it back fully. You have heard of Kenobi’s best friend or as some call it, brother, although barely from the man himself. You've witnessed how Kenobi's eyes lighten up with pride whenever Skywalker was mentioned, and stories- summaries of their adventures together that he told. The shortness of them wasn't a result of his unwillingness to tell them, but the circumstances of your company, never long or alone enough to visit them in their deserved entirety. 

To be honest, Anakin doesn't know much about you either. He and Padme prefer the countryside by the sea, especially during the summer, thus he and Obi Wan hadn't had the means to talk often lately. He senses the situation, by the slight tension in the older man's voice; this strong, confident man crumbling into pieces for some unknown reason. 

“Pleased to meet you, my Lady.” He makes a small cursty, which you mirror.  

“Likewise, Lord Skywalker.” 

“I’m afraid I’ll need my friend back to keep his promise.” The chains in his hands shake as he speaks, reminding the absurdity of it all. You’re not disturbed by it though, for all is concealed under his charismatic voice and mimics. He’s pretty and he knows it, which gives him all the tools to captivate others. Now you understand why people speak about him like that, moved by hearing his name alone.

“Oh, not a problem at all. We were just saying hello.” Entertained by the interaction, your anxiety is somewhat diminished, enough to let him go without an explanation. Also, the way that he rolls his eyes, and clenches his jaw is very cute, you dare say.

“Promise? I never promised anything.” He murmurs, but it is still audible for you as he follows his friend. And the rest, which makes you laugh whenever you remember it. “Anakin- she's your wife, you know her better than me. How exactly do you expect me to help you?”

“You always had a vision when it comes to beautiful things. Not like my eyes, which are only accustomed to the dirt and grease of machinery.”

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop grinning, while you start talking with the salesman about the bracelet you’ve given them to restore. They make you sit and wait for a couple of minutes, all of which you spend trying to not spy on them. Fortunately, the shop is quite crowded, and their conversation is a part of the low grumble. A cup of tea is placed in front of you, as well as some new pieces they think you might like.

The one that catches your attention is not among them, however. It is a ring with a blue stone, the tone too similar to something you can’t put your finger on. It is too big to be for a woman, clearly designed for the other sex, but you admire its elegance nonetheless.

“Here is your piece, Madame.” The young salesman returns with a package, just in time to stop you from reaching it.

“Thank you.” You take the precious item back into your hands and inspect the handwork. It is shining once again, polished, and the place you accidentally broke it is now attached, the handwork barely visible.

You release a deep breath, praying graces. You would’ve never forgiven yourself if the family heirloom was forever damaged from the incident. You almost cried when it happened, a stupid game you were playing with Carolina before a ball, when you had already gotten ready and she was counting the minutes to her bedtime.  

“That is beautiful.” Obi Wan joins you once more, now looking more relaxed. Your eyes search for Anakin and find him waiting for a package, reaching for his wallet. Mission accomplished. “May I?”

The chain slides into his hands, and wraps around your wrist under the watch of the young boy with a wholesome smile. He must think you two are engaged in some way, and there’s no turning back from it.

“Would that be all, Madame?”

“Actaully I-“ You remember about the ring, and even if you just want to unravel the mystery around it, the words have already left your mouth, and the entire tray is placed on the table.

Oh. Oh. With him next to you, suddenly it all makes sense. You’re holding the color of his eyes on your palm.

“That is beautiful too.” He remarks, embracing his role a little too much.

“I think it would suit you.” Now it is your turn to accessorize him. He is silent while you do so, taken aback by the unorthodoxty of it all.

“I’m not sure-“ Is all he manages to say, though can’t stop looking at it. It is ridiculously so well fitted around his finger, the fate pulling all strings to give a message.

“It compliments your eyes.” You defend yourself, perhaps a little too lively but you have no shame. It is the truth.

“The Lady is correct.” The boy joins your side, or does his job. “It is a most excellent match.”

“I might think about it.” Is how far he budges, returning it, and checking up on Anakin from where he’s standing. 

“How much do I owe you?”

“Please, allow me-“

The audacity? The though is reflected in your face, which makes him blush at his unnecessary offer.

“With the ring.” You add, and it is all said and done ‘til he has time to get rid of his embarrassment and intervene.

Then, you make him take the package from you, your fingers wrapping around his. “You’re allowed to have nice things, you know?” There’s not an ounce of sarcasm in your tone, only gentle suggestion. “You don’t have to wear it, but I want you to have it.”

“Thank you.”  

And you’re gone before Skywalker can catch up.

===

You truly don’t expect to see him wearing it, you really don’t.

But you’re proven wrong so, so badly.

He doesn’t take it off.

When he takes on his promise, and actually starts working on the ball he’s supposed to throw, the first thing he does is request for your uncle’s help. Then your uncle entrusts the job on you, and you’re spending hours with him like that, securing the musicians, bargaining for the food supplies, preparing invitation lists… Truly, that’s it. You too are surprised to accompany him that much and engage in nothing outside of the mission. Truthfully, a little concerning in the grand scheme of things, the inevitable result of your relationship improving, real sincerity. Although you have zero problems with the fact, enjoying it far too much. You don't care about how your contributions are secret, for your efforts surpass the limits of help that are considered friendly, and fully acknowledge that it is gonna be a damn good ball. 

Also, while you hate to see him distressed, it is a look on him that you are guilty of adoring. The nervousness is like a little crack in his shell, a way to see a part of him that rarely sees the daylight. And it is for something so feeble? Only half of his effort would be enough for a wonderful ball, and he still tries to do more, and gets agitated over that? You are cruel for laughing at that, you confess. But it is more of a balancing act, rather than a mock. Somebody's gotta play the sane part, lower the tension. 

You're ready to help with that, too.

“Do you think I should hire-” 

You're at his study, the place you've been sitting since the morning. Time flies with every cup of tea, and plates of biscuits, but after a while, things inevitably get boring. For you, at least. He's quite focused, brows scrunched, tie slightly loosened. You see him looking at the list that you've put together in the beginning, the possible ways to entertain his guest. 

You've already arranged the services of more than half of them. Twice the amount that would be considered enough.

And he's still going over it?

“That's enough!” Your open palm lands on the surface. 

Obi Wan doesn't expect your outburst. He doesn't flinch, but his mimics change in an equivalent way. His lips part, causing him to relax that clenched jaw -oh, you might have a point. 

“You. Need. To. Relax.” You’re now less frantic, due to his irresistibly clueless expression, though still firm in your cause. Fuck, how can he look at you with those doe eyes and expect you to… do anything! 

You get up, and reach for the papers, sending them in a far corner of the desk. While you do so, you are basically halfway in between him and the table. Putting the teacups and the pot back on the tray (it has grown cold a long time ago), you turn to him, almost sitting at the desk in order to fit that narrow space. The bashful smile on his face (as if he wasn’t enjoying the perfect view of your ass seconds before) breaks your heart once more.

Putting your hand on his shoulder, you mirror his emotion. “It’s gonna be a splendid night. The kind that people will talk about it for years. And I’m not exaggerating on that one. I would’ve said the same thing days ago, all before the last additions, too.”

It is a challenge to feel the warmth of your skin, and not lean against it. “You’re right.” He tugs on his collar, taking a deep breath. “But you know- I’ve never planned a ball in my life, and- I just need it to be perfect.”

You giggle, and replace your hand on his cheek that is colored with the confession of his little perfection obsession. You welcome the slight sting of his beard, like a habit, and caress his cheekbone. He dares not move, or even take a breath, only watching your pretty face focused on his, and relish the feeling of your thumb across his features.

“It’s going to be just that.”  You might’ve said, or a joke about his troubles, but words scurry off of your mind as you stay like that, squished in place as you try your best to comfort him.

“Can you kiss me?” The thought seems lunatic when uttered on a whim, but it has crossed your mind too, you must admit. 

“Only because you asked so nicely.” There's an undeniable urge to use his words back at him. 

Your back has to bend in an uncomfortable way for your lips to touch, but you have no complaints about it. The touch is so soft, laden with affection in the purest kind. It is obvious in every way, the movement of your mouths, determined to preserve the sweetness and sweetness alone, and the itch in your palms, mapping each other out over and over again, and the determination of your lungs, using every last drop of oxygen before demanding an exchange. 

“T-thank you for that, dear.” His eyes open after a few seconds, with a sheepish smile that causes him to speak in whispers.

It’s about to get real dangerous for you, if he keeps being this cute. 

“I’m not about to say we should've done it sooner, for it is a complete waste of our time repeating a truth well known, and I've already used that trick before, but maybe we should do it again.” 

Okay, but how does that kind of sass sound cute from your perspective?

“Don't push your luck.” You say, fingers smoothing his hair, and his complaint dies on his throat visibly. He purrs, eyelids closing. That's the moment you decide to press a small peck to his lips for all his troubles. It lasts longer than intended, and while it's definitely different than the previous one, him gripping your waist telling a different story. The weight of them is welcome nonetheless, and it serves as an anchor, like you two could be molded into a statue if he held it long enough.

However, he is the one to break the stillness, shifting in his chair- first of all, how dare he, you're doing the acrobatics here-

Oh.

He notices that you've noticed it. Clearing his throat, Obi Wan lets his hands slide to the table, just a centimeter away from your body. “It’s been some time.” His face remains focused on the floor.

Didn't he even take care of himself?

You push his shoulder back, and he takes it a step further without a blink, sliding away with his chair. 

What he doesn't expect, is for you to stay exactly where you are, only this time on your knees. He has to gulp once, then twice, because he finally looks at your face, smiling back at him. 

“May I help?” Admittedly, your fluttering gaze was unnecessary, and tips him even more. You don't miss the way he stabilizes his hands.

“By all means.” 

You start by unfastening the buttons of his tan trousers, letting your forearms rest on his thighs. He aids your quests by lifting his hips a little, being freed from the constraints of the fabric-

There he is.

You bite your lip at the sight, and the sight is not just his huge cock, already hard and weeping for you. It is about him, and the redness that creeps up his neck, the way he hisses and bites his knuckles at the cool air hitting his sensitive skin, how he claws at the armrest waiting for your touch. His head nearly hits the back of the chair when you finally do, a small moan leaving his exposed throat.

Well. You really should’ve done this sooner.

Your thumb swirls around his head, more fluid leaking out as you do so. Thus your fingers slide down his shaft easily, and he is coated in his slick in no time, along with your palm. It twists around him without rush, leaving him to wander in that dream like state without mentioning a finish line. You want to ask him, ask him how he likes it, or make him cover your hand with his, guiding you, but you also want him to stay just like this, eyes fixed with that heavy lidded gaze, partially obscured by that infamous strand of hair that refuses to be tamed like others. His mouth hangs open with loud breaths and sometimes graces you with sounds of his pleasure.  

“Harder.” The only instruction you need.

You clasp tighter and shudder like him, taking pride in your work. He can feel the strain in his muscles fading second by second, the problems in his mind are plucked out one after the other, replaced by your soothing words you repeated constantly for days at this point, and expert hands, creating the same effect on his body.

“Like this, Lord Kenobi?” You require you still acquire his opinion, a feedback, and his title rolls off of your tongue unintentionally. Honestly, there’s no explanation you can make even to yourself, but you are already over it as his cock twitches under your palm, and his groan fills the room.

“Y-yes. You’re doing- so good.”

That must be some sort of karma, for he is above the concept of revenge, but you’re left with an itch to grind your legs together at his praise. If you do that, you’ll probably feel your wetness smearing all over your skin, you’re sure of it.

And you’re determined not to be distracted.

Your other hand joins the game too, starting to massage his balls. That makes him tense under you for a moment, but the tension dissolves quickly, leaving him dizzier.

“Fuck-“ Even the simplest swear word sounds hypnotizing on his lips, “you’re perfect. Don’t stop.”

Like you had any intention to do that.

On the contrary, your intentions evolve in the direction after his words, perhaps even a little bit further. You lean in and lick a stripe up his length, the tip of your tongue dancing around his head, fully tasting him, before you take him to your mouth fully.

His hand flies up, shaking as it comes down, held back by the strongest of wills from delving into your hair. Instead, it inches closer to your cheek, and returns to the position before (because he may have just lost five years of his life feeling the way you swallow him), half-stabilized over the armrest. His head rolls back once more, unashamed to release his moans with your every move. The most sinful one comes out when you use your throat, gagging around his thickness. You repeat it, and he whimpers, earning an equal sound from you too.

This time, you don’t have to ask him anything. The eye contact as you recover your breath, and continue to stroke him tells you everything you need to know, tells how much he enjoys it.

“Please- darling-“

You don’t try to choke on him again, but keep a rhythm with your tongue and your palm. He reaches climax quickly nonetheless, throbbing in your mouth and coating it white. Obi Wan feels sorry for not warning you, a sense of guilt rising alongside that pleasure, but it once again came over with lust as you gulp it down without a blink. He even fears he might go hard in a second, against all the rules of nature. You provoke that in all ways possible, pressing small kisses to his shaft, occasionally licking it, and letting your head rest on his thigh.

“Thank you.” It is so out of place to say that for this kind of act, but it is the sentence that is spoken, breaking the silence.

“You’re welcome, my Lord.” Thankfully, you raise your gaze just in time to miss the way his cock moves. You straighten your back and throw your shoulders back, stretching like you’ve just woken up.

So cute and so filthy.

“I’d like to return the favor.” He says, the action fueled only by his kind and generous soul.

“Some other time.” Your smile reflects the acknowledgment, not mocking his advances. “I am expected from home.”

“Ah, pity. Send my regards to your family.” He can’t help but feel envious of them. Do they know to treasure your company, not take a second of it for granted? Do they know what you did to him, before joining them? Would they be as accepting as ever, aware of your scandalous affairs?

Of course not.

But even then, you’d deserve much better than what they would treat you like. Your courage alone is enough to make the world bow down to you.

And what if your family means something other than your blood, your relatives? What if it was a stranger, a man undeserving, but had you to himself every night, when you returned home from your daily activities? A lucky fool who had the blessing of knowing you’d be by his side soon, every damn day.

His fingers turn into fists as you clean yourself up, so pretty in your ignorance to his gaze, brows slightly furrowed as you smooth out the wrinkles on your dress.

“Shall do.” And with your cheery voice, he doesn’t even notice his grip is unclenched.

===

Red isn’t his color. Some say it suits him well, that the stark contrast is eye-catching, but he doesn’t like to carry it. At this point of his life, it’s not even about his clothing choices, he prefers anything over that pigment in every possible scenario; the sheets, the carpets, the flowers… He makes a point of avoiding that powerful color.

Not today, though.

He has no word over how you dress and for once, tries very hard to stay neutral, not verbalize his choices when you mention the outfit you’ll be wearing in his ball, and it is a successful endeavor. (Knowing you and your stubbornness, it would probably only damage the bond between the two of you, something you’ll quip for years, or God forbid, keep you from attending at all.)

In the end, you wear it, and he ends up where he doesn’t want to be. Drowning in that bloody cloud. Without remorse, for the first time in his life.

For once, he finds himself chasing after it, taking joy in its liveliness, surrendering to the dangerous promises it makes. Your presence brings energy to every room you enter. The candles seem to burn brighter, and the warmth in his chest is not solely a result of both of your accomplishment of the spectacle. Obi Wan smiles ear to ear, eyes almost closed because of it, and he wants nothing more than to dance with you all night long, bury his hands in that expensive fabric and feel the burn in your cheeks, painted with the same color. He doesn’t even mean it in a perverse way. He wants to celebrate the payoff of your efforts, let the pride be felt, and enjoy the treats like all the guests, or even more than them (it would be more than fair to do so), together.

Alas, the society you both live in isn’t the type to accept such things. In order to not taint the event with the bitterness reserved for that principle, he doesn’t ask for more than six dances, or follow you around the saloon like a lost puppy. While it is never enough, he counts and cherishes the accidental eye contacts, and your hands holding his in dances, or the different circles you ran into each other and have snippets of various conversations. He accepts every compliment with your name tied behind his tongue and feels relieved with each passing hour, realizing how perfect everything is going, thanks to your pieces of advice and restrictions. He is light as a feather underneath all those layers he had to put on for the evening, without the pressing intention of taking it all off as soon as possible.

But, there are two sides to every coin, and here comes the other side, halfway through the night, the prejudice he had returning sinisterly.

He does a decent job of suppressing his jealousy, for all the purposes he’s thought of before. He can glance over when you dance with a stranger, or two, ricocheting on the stage and putting on a show for everyone. He chooses to admire the beauty you’re radiating, shining like a rose after the rain. It keeps him occupied for a while. But when an hour passes and you’re not even looking at his general direction, way too engulfed in your conversation with them, he feels a distaste rising in him. The red bleeds into his heart, poisoning him. It slowly takes over, and by the time you throw your head back with a burst of laughter that echoes in the room, he’s entirely filled with it. His hands twitch with every dream of ripping the source of that poison from your skin in a cove meant for just the two of you, away from all the vultures that eat and drink and savor his doings and yet ready to crucify him at his slightest flaw.

Obi Wan is one step away from sending everyone to their homes when you escort that man to the garden. Honestly, the only reason he doesn’t is because you return in a minute or two, the tip of your nose giving away all he needs to know- it’s chilly.

And he didn’t even give you his jacket?

On the second thought, it’s best that he didn’t, because then Obi Wan wouldn’t even bother to get rid of the crowd to have his way with him.

“Lord Kenobi.” You manage to catch him alone, on the balcony. He’s up there to calm his nerves, over you, unbeknownst to you. Unfortunately, his progress is lost the second he hears your voice, and it is truly an effort to act otherwise.

The night is on the brink of ruin for him, and it doesn’t have to be that way for you. This is why he tries so hard.

“I must congratulate you on this beautiful ball. It is a night to remember.”

“Don't say it like the honor doesn't belong to us both.”

You shrug, as if whisking all the credit away. But your eyes twinkle with pride. 

“I haven't had this much fun in ages,” You chirp,  “I would've begged for another one already, if I hadn't witnessed the toll it took on you.” He covers his face at the mention of the state he has been in for the last couple of weeks. “Oh God, don't.” 

“Oh God, you just didn't expose yourself like that! When will you start enjoying this?” Your laugh is a hidden giveaway of how many glasses you had tonight. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed for those who may inquire.” Your lips. Wrapped around his cock. Mapping out his neck. Keeping his secrets.  “Remember that every word that comes out of my mouth is said by a person who attended all types of feasts all over the continent for a decade now. I grew up around these circles.” Shrugging, you add. “Perhaps that was my undoing.”

“Undoing? I could never call you “undone”.” Ironic, how you make him forget about before and continue to concern him with totally different subjects.

“You’re right.” Thoughts come out a little slow, but your effort is evident on your face. “I just had too many opportunities to start over in new places, experience everything that I was curious about, and that all led me to discover exactly what I liked, what I wanted from life.”

“How’s that a bad thing?” 

“I’m not willing to let that go anytime soon.” You can’t help but notice that it sounds like some sort of prison of your will, but that’s not a discussion you can have tonight. “Anyways, Obi Wan. I must be going now, just wanted to pay my compliments and wish you good night.” 

“I thought you’d stay the night-“Well, that’s definitely not the case, “But it is so early?”

“You know our houses are not so close, any later than this and I’m going to fall asleep on the road out of habit.”

Yeah, that’s why he thought it would be perfectly reasonable for you to stay over. 

“I see.” And he wishes he had gone blind and deaf. “Then, allow me to bid you good night, my Lady.” 

He takes your hand, placing a kiss you can very much feel despite the fabric. What he doesn’t expect, is for you to press your palm against his chest in return, because he doesn’t know of the urge you have to not leave. It is a split second of override, before you can command your feet to move again, blissfully unaware how tender that moment was.

===

A day. A full day. That’s how long he can refrain from seeing you. Funny, the meetings have become a habit for him, and although he needed you back then, he needs you more now, for completely different reasons, and you’re not there that morning- and why would you be? There’s no arrangement that demands your assistance anymore. Your praises are all said and done, and if to be repeated, it wouldn’t certainly be a matter that required urgency for you to show up at his door.

And maybe, you have other places to be, other doors to knock. Perhaps you’d enjoy a change of air.

So, he has come to yours.

Naboo. Aldreaan. Correlia. The cities churn in his mind, alongside your image in every one of them. The flowers in your hand as you roam the fields of Naboo, the coat that doesn’t do much for the redness on the tip of your nose while you lodge in the mountains of Alderaan. The exquisite jewelry you wear to a Correlian masquerade, outshining every debutante in the room. He imagines the people hypnotized by your presence (what can they be, other than blessed), or you gliding among them (after all, discretion was your powerful suit). And the worst of all, he thinks of the man escorting you, claiming their dances, bringing you a glass of their rare wines, walking with you in the natural scene, their savage arms around you, their hands groping your curves, pulling sweet sounds from you.

(No, the purpose of his visit was not that. )

He invites himself in from your open balcony, catching you as you start your nightly routine. You’re taking off your hairpins, when he does the courtesy of knocking on the glass, startling you just a little. You jump, but thankfully do not scream, the reflex somehow suppressed. Truth be told, it’s not because your shock actually dwindles. If anything, it is redirected into a different question, going from “What the fuck was that?” to “Why the fuck is he here?”

“Good night, darling.” He gestures for you to sit again, and you do, returning to your chair in front of the vanity. Your head has to crane in a strange way for you to see him, but thankfully, he comes closer and solves the problem, eyes meeting through the mirror. And his face lights up as he sets foot in the room, like he too has forgotten everything but this moment, his jealousy and desperation left behind the walls. That’s how the question of “What are you doing here?” is not immediately articulated.

 Instead, you say, “Good night, Obi Wan.”

“I see I managed to visit you just in time.” Look at him, fixing his beard, laughing nervously. He just climbed to the second floor, and his heart only got racing now.

“Lucky you.” Honestly, you don't think there's a “wrong time” in his perspective, at least when it comes to you. A few minutes later, and he'd see you in your nightgown. Would that deter him from setting his foot in here? Most, most, most likely, no. Don't dwell on that thought, though. “And what do I owe the pleasure?” You try not to focus too much on the fact that you have him and your bed in the same frame, through the reflection. 

“I thought I would see you today.” Is that sarcasm in his tone, or a little bit of self-humiliation?

This must be some sort of a Shakespeare play, right? 

Oh my God, it is. 

“Ah.” You fiddle with your hairbrush, the eye contact broken, your attempt to stop any matter from escalating this night. Any matter. Not that you had any questions when it came to his morals, he probably was the one person you’d never doubt, but in terms of his intentions to be here tonight startled you in a much different light. “I slept in late today. Didn’t even leave the house.”

Oh. That makes quite the sense.

“Actually I still feel a little bit exhausted.”

“That’s because you had too much fun without me last night.” A treacherous scoff falls from his lips as he shakes his head. The moment that the tides turn. The one that brings back all the crude questions.

“What? No? What do you mean?” For all your effort to remain calm, you look alarmed, that tired face with doe eyes showing it all, and he feels sorry for a second, troubling you over his overthinking ass.

Then, he spots the bracelet you wore last night, lying haphazardly over a piece of paper on the corner of the table. It looks very much like a letter.

It’s not hard for him to advance his speculations.

“I think you know it already.”

“Obi Wan.” You twist to actually face him, your arm on the back of the chair. “Why are you here?”

He takes a few steps back, as if the air is stolen from the short distance between the two of you. He runs a hand through his hair, undisturbed by its messy result. You can see him biting into his cheeks, trying to select the right words. In the end, all that effort seems unnecessary, because when he speaks, the sentence can’t be any simpler. “Who was the man you spent an hour with last night?”

Wincing, you take a few seconds to process. It’s not about the answer, but his motive, his audacity that irks you. You stand up and speak. This time, your voice is sharp as ice. “That’s none of your business.”

He blinks a few times, so sure of his righteousness, and determined. “You were in my house, at our ball, dancing and talking with strangers and not even glancing in my direction for the better half of the night. I think it’s some of my business.”

“I was by your side for much longer than it is acceptable, Kenobi, do I need to remind you? We danced six times and greeted the majority of guests together.” You’ll not let the truth be ignored. “Any longer than that and there would be rumors all over the society today, and even I would’ve heard about it despite staying here all day. I didn’t come this much by pushing boundaries at every fucking chance I get. I picked my battles, the thing you seem incapable of.”

“So, am I to understand, this thing between us,” The look on his face dares you to deny the existence of it, “is not worth picking?”

This is the possibility that scared you. And for good reason, it seems. You close your eyes, in order to not roll them, and purse your lips. He uses the moment to reach for your arms, like he could appeal for an answer from you. “Don’t you love what we have?”

You couldn’t feel any worse under the warmth of his hands, affection pouring out of them despite the rage in him. “I love what we had.”

“Had?”

“It’s obvious that we can’t keep doing this, is it not?”

Confusion leaves its place to anger once more, for all the wrong reasons and his face darkens. “Oh, I see. You secured yourself a new entertainment, and now you have to get rid of the old one.”

You shrug out of his hold, distancing yourself from him. The source of the problem is not what he claims it to be, and it infuriates you, along with the accusations he taints you with.  “Don't you dare reflect your own degeneration on me like that! It’s not about my damn cousin’s damn friend, it’s about you!” It is nearly a scream, the highest pitch that wouldn’t grab attention. Still, reflectively, you turn your head to the door, which you had luckily locked. “Leave now, you bastard!”

Honoring the part he was assigned in that theatre play, he focuses on the wrong part of the words, the crumbles of information giving him hope, and dim his doubts. “So there's nothing between you and him?”

Seething, you are red with fury, taking a sharp breath, pointing your finger at him like a gun. “Get. Out.” 

“Is there?” 

Your tongue is determined not to let him hear your words, despite the truth in them. It will not lead to any good. 

But so will his closeness.

When did he get so close? 

The moment you look into his ocean eyes, the decision to say anything is deemed impossible. The decision to do anything, actually. His arms cage you against the cluttered table, and yours end up on his chest, though without any intention of pushing him away.

“Answer my question, and I will.” 

How could you? How can you be able to resist his utmost sincerity, the desperation in his behaviors and the brutality of his words contrasted in the way he looks at you, the caging without actually touching you. Your suffocation is only a result of your inner turmoil, the desire to spit out the truths, clear his heart and give in to the love he's handing out, but terrified of the places it will take the two of you.  

“I’m waiting, darling.”  You can’t help but watch his perfect lips move, his voice licking your skin. 

You gulp, an action he doesn’t miss, and dares to laugh at it. Obi Wan can see the exact moment your gaze returns to being that of an eris, though the flames remind him of a different time.

A very different time. 

“I hate you.” It is perhaps the most childish thing you’ve ever said in years, and it shows. 

So, that’s his cue to kiss you.

For all your claims, still, he doesn’t miss the small moan you let out, swallowing it with pride. Your soft lips move against his like a habit, anticipating every move and the next, a choreography you both know all too well  albeit in a much swifter tempo. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer but his stay in the same spot, afraid to disturb you, though gripping the edges hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Though, when he tugs at your bottom lip, asking for more, you grant him that, your tongues joining the dance. You whimper, the action triggering your inhibitions to loosen up, like each second wipes the doubts away. It is a sugared water, only serving to increase the thirst instead of quenching it. So you don't stop drinking it.

Not til you absolutely have to.

“No, you don’t.” 

Two seconds have to pass for you to understand his response. With his breath still warming your cheeks, even brushing them with his nose, yes he dares now, the statement is the undeniable truth.

However, not that you're ready to admit it. He already knows too much, all the things you like, all your weak spots, all of your soul.

“Yes, I- oh” And he's not the one to endure your lies. His fingers delve into your scalp, putting traction into your hair ‘til you have to tilt your head back to release the tension, forcing you to look at him through your lashes. Still, eye contact is not what he seeks, for he has as much a chance of getting lost in it as you. He uses the expanse of skin you offer, and dives in for that specific spot that has your legs going limp. It has two consequences: Firstly, you are stuck between him and the table, the latter supporting you too little that the weight rests almost entirely on his body, every plane of him touching yours. Secondly, the angle puts the mirror in the corner of your sight, and you have a maddening view of what’s happening. It is enough to make old ladies screech and faint, and artists to slave to immortalize the scene.  

“You’re a bastard.” You murmur the last bit of objection, solely for the object of throwing it out of the tip of your tongue. He hears, though quite unbothered, the retort to break you further leaves his mouth readily.

“Call me whatever you want, dear, you’re the one begging for it.”

Of course, you only pant in return. Even when he threatens to nip and bite at the sensitive nerves, you don’t stop him. Furthermore, your calf twists around his as much as it is able in that impossible posture. An invitation.

“And what else would you let me do to you? Would you let me take you to your bed?”

You nod, frantically. “Yes, please Obi Wan- take me”

That’s a sentence straight out of his dreams.

The second your feet touch the ground, both of you gather the ends of your dress, yanking it out to throw it haphazardly on the floor. Your stays and chemise follow the same fate, then it is his jacket and shirt. He taps on your thigh, like he would let you walk the five meter distance between there and the bed, you jump, a little shakily (not that you ever had questions about his strength). Fuck, it excites you how easily and softly he lands you on the edge of it. You reach for his trousers, but he stops you and urges for you to scoot back, and lay down.

Because that’s the best way he can rid you of your shoes and stockings.

Your knees stick together as he works on one foot, and the other. The shoes drop with a loud thud, making you bite your lip, close your eyes for a moment and pray nobody investigates. It’s no wonder that after that small break, your pupils meet once more. How ironic that it is the cause of your concern, and the only solution.

You can feel his fingertips skimming the top of the only clothing left on you. While the touch is stimulating enough, it is the fact that you have to spread your legs a little to allow him to undress you, giving him a view of your wet pussy.

Nothing that he hasn’t seen before, but that doesn’t affect the way you tremble.

Throwing your head back, you let him slide the stretchy fabric down. Slowly. Like his piercing gaze isn’t enough. You’re squirming by the end of it, all thoughts of getting him out of his outfit gone (-or delayed, should you still believe yourself.)

Thankfully, he takes care of it, the sounds of his buttons unfastened echo in the room. 

Though he has no rush to join you. 

You turn your face to search for what's taking him so long, a whine in your throat when he kneels. That's unlike him. 

You feel cold without his body looming over yours. And he has a hard time not to do that, not falling for the flush of red and your hard nipples. Especially when you're so gone that you may come undone just from that.

He'd like to see that. 

But he has to make you understand how you keep him in that state, ignorant of his troubles, even as the solution is obvious and wanted by both sides, however the other can't accept it out of simple stubbornness.

Thus, he plays the deaf now, as he grips the supple flesh of your thighs, squeeze and move as he pleases, exposing your core to air while he busies himself with other parts. He claims you with his lips, mapping out, pushing you down to the mattress every time you jolt because he’s so close just a little to the left- But perhaps the worst is his vulgar taunts, whispered, to himself mostly, a way to speak out the anger.

“Are you this wet for all the men you hate?”

“No.” You cry, not able to stand the accusations. “It’s you.”  And it is the truth. There are no other men on the planet that you would bear being treated like this by, or attempt to change their opinion of you. But now, you need him to know that. You can’t imagine a future with his back always turned to you, or be subject to his very much forced small talk with empty, or worse, hatred filled eyes. It is a reveal of a side of you that you had to keep hidden and downplay, to be free at the end of the day, give both of you an opportunity to walk out, but it doesn’t matter if the said fallout leaves his judgment of you sour. You care about his perception, and would do your best to change it should it be mixed with lies. Truth, and nothing less, is what he deserves.

A wave of relief floods his heart, that simple answer is all he wishes to hear. There’s also a bit of rage, for knowing you’d never admit it in any other circumstance. Alas, the smile appearing on his face is unstoppable. Even as he finally begins to eat you out.

A moan leaves your mouth at the first contact, which is nothing more than a small kiss. That bad, uh? As he licks everything he can reach, it turns into a whine, because it is evident he has no concern about making you cum quickly, or in a normal amount of time. He just continues to do whatever he was doing before, exploring every nook and cranny, and marking, like he intends to commit this moment to his memory. It may not have been his first time, (or the second), but he’s doing it for himself now, your desperation sadly not a priority. You also suspect he’s doing it to drive you mad, using his previous experience and remembering how sensitive you got when his beard rubbed against your skin.

“Obi Wan-“ Your back arches, a hand reaching for his hair. He stops it all by jostling your legs with a hold that could leave imprints. It takes half of your willpower to stay in the place he put you in, and that means you only have the other half to process the indescribable pleasure he’s giving. It is gonna be fast, whether he plans it or not.

“Could you actually throw this away? How can you pick anything else over this?” You knew it would be a hard transition. The magic he created is haunting and ready to jump on you in those dark corners, even after many years. There is no cure for ghosts, after all. The thought now seems impossible, the last thing that could cross your mind. Simply impossible. He emphasizes by nudging your clit, every single movement forcing a sound out of you. “That's right. I’m going to remind you how good we are together, make you feel so good that you'll forget anything but us.” 

The passion in his words scares you, but it would be a lie to say they don't excite you in some way, making your heart flutter in your chest at his devotion and to be able to still feel safe only supported by the honest bond you two have. You chant his name as he smothers himself in your folds, sucking and flicking your raw bundle of nerves. He loves to feel you twitch when you are overwhelmed, but not enough to climax. 

Then, he scrapes your clit with his teeth, and you're gushing, head thrown back, a silent scream in your mouth. The hot lava inside you doesn't cool down, paying its visit to every part of you, making stars explode behind your eyes and body trash against the sheets. To be perfectly honest, he didn't expect this much either, his strong muscles tightened to keep you from closing your legs, a string of curses muttered at the obscenity of it all. As always, your bliss only augments his own, especially at the sight of your essence flowing out of you. He has to drink it all in. Thus, he doesn’t stop, unbothered by the subtle sway of your hips, or the slight tug at his strands. He has no objection to them, on the contrary, he would encourage them if he didn't have to abandon his task to say the words. The slow movements of his tongue create constant stimulation in your already delicate nerves. Your second orgasm crashes you like a clap of thunder, leaves you sobbing and shaking. It uses all the energy in your already spent muscles, wipes every argument from your mind and removes those troubling emotions from your soul. The interesting thing, is that you have no oppositions to the matter. Why would there be? Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Isn’t it better than a dream? You speak the truths, and he worships you. You pay him the respect he deserves, and he tries to honor it in every chance. You don't complete his personality, you enhance it, and in return, he uses everything in his power to make your day better. 

It is not that simple, a voice speaks from the back of your head, but it's too silent to have an importance. 

Likewise, some of his ideas are dismayed just as easily. Pity. He had every intention of taking you from behind, not letting you get away before painting your ass red, and watch you crawl back to him still even when he teased you that badly, but you seem too gone, too weak to lift your hips up. And it is not a big deal anymore, because he's equally excited to have you like this, lying on your back, legs hugging his torso. Like your first time. The parallel is unintentional, but more than welcomed. How much and how little has changed since then? He leans in for a kiss, and fuck, your mouth is greets him too purely, like he's not covered in your slick. There's something more than lust that drives you, evident in the way you move, like you’re carving out a promise on his lips. The sounds that you produce are not in desperation, but gratitude, not weary of the periods of suspense but glad that it is over. His fingers travel the length of your abdomen, all blame on him for the coldness of your skin and the way you shiver. When he circles your nipples with his thumb, you sigh, and press yourself to him. 

“You take care of me like no other, Obi Wan.” You whisper as you cup his cheek. You should’ve told him sooner. It was the least you could do. 

He has no answer, and he doesn’t need one. Holding your wrist at the sides of your head angrily and meeting with your tongue is more than enough of an explanation, just like the one you made a little too late, beautiful controversies. You both are unaware of how your hips rub against each other, without hurry, ‘til his cock catches your entrance. Your breathing becomes erratic, considering you didn’t get a prep or had any in some while, and he’s big. 

“Are you gonna let me in, sweetheart?” 

“I need you.” You almost wail, despite knowing it will be too much. It’s not about pleasing him, either, for these things are not given up as sacrifices, ever. What matters is that you’re together, and that is always good. “Please, I want you.”

Could he ever refuse?

He takes his time, relishing the surrender of your tight walls, and brave noises, replied with his own moans. Your pants are guiding as much as they are troubling, making him even harder. He swears he’s about to burst when you outright sob while he brushes your areolas. Your back raises, an attempt to get his fingers a little higher, and your eyelids flutter close with the movement.

Make no mistake, your face scrunched up in delight is a sight to behold, but he can’t compromise having your eyes closed, sparing him from that glossy, burning gaze you have when he tears you apart. He needs to see them lose all coherent thought, see those doubts fly away and light up with pleasure.

“Look at me, dearest.” Right, aren’t you more than acquainted with his most important wish? He pleads, the softest tone that spilled from his lips tonight. Your heart skips a beat although you’re not exactly capable of processing that information. Needless to say, you don’t oblige to his wish, not when you are so spent. 

Obi Wan groans, his hand flying up to turn your chin. At that moment, all fall silent. You get lost in his stormy eyes, and so does he. Though his cock twitches in your quivering channel, that’s not the point.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He blurts. Then, the other truths demand to be told too.  “I don't like the way they look at you. I don't like how they don't know how blessed they are by your presence. Shit, I hate it when they know it too. I hate to think those who got to memorize you this closely, even those you knew before me.” 

Even those you knew before me. “Obi Wan, you're-” 

“Crazy? I'll admit, I am crazy when it comes to you.” 

“I never-” You have to drown a whimper as he continues his deep, slow strokes, “asked for any of it.”

“Of course, dear. I know, I know it's not you, but them. But I can hardly stop myself from reaching out and pulling you out from their sigh. Or wrap my hands around you, let them see what we share. They wouldn't dare anymore, if they knew the lines you left on my back.” It takes an incredible amount of will not to thrust into you faster, with where his ideas lead him to. “Would you let me mark you from the inside?”

Fuck, why does his words make their way into your heart without ringing those alarm bells you have ready at all times? How does he move past them so easily? 

Or do you let him, and take those rings as a cheery tune of his nearing presence, and not a warning as they must be?

“Yes!” The feeling of him finishing anywhere but in you suddenly sounds so disgusting. You want his warmth, even though you're burning already. 

His lips find yours, kissing you so hard that you'd thought he wanted to silence you. But surely, you know better, that's definitely not the case. You get to drink his sweet moans as his hands envelope you further (like it's possible). In return, he's right there to swallow your gasps, the proof of how you push yourself for him. The rest of the world stops, the urge to fill your lungs no longer necessary, nothing but the rhythm you've created, and clouds you've climbed on. 

He senses your peak before you do and gives you a brief space to breathe, praises falling from his lips that you can't hear, as you shake and let out whimpers, quite loud, for you've grown used to him muffling them. He follows suit, not able to resist your walls clamping down on him, painting your insides with a heavenly moan. 

It takes a second for both of your bearings to return, for the night to evolve into a chilly summer night it was simply meant to be. The coldness is especially remarkable as sweat cools down. A towel wipes them rather quickly, but it's never as warm as having the other around. Your usual remedy, a nightgown, is no use either, even if he helps you put it on. It is such a whiplash that makes you question everything about the last hour. You're left with burning cheeks as he collects your clothes from the floor, hanging them on the divider, then his- but he does the same to them?

“What are you doing?” You croak, a minute of silence for your vocal cords. “I don't cuddle.” That's a harsh sentence, but it's the truth.

“And I don't leave the person I love in the middle of the night to freeze.” He's holding a candle, the only lit candle in the room, and his face is illuminated beyond anything else and it could be said that he is the source of light. 

The person I love. His words break down the last resolve you have, and you're left to figure out how you feel about it as he kills the flame, and slides  into the sheets behind you. You'd think the sensation of his chest pressed to your back would keep you wide awake, but no, it's weirdly new yet familiar, enough to lull to sleep. Also, his scent is mesmerizing, and you never had it this close and constant. 

And for him, he had no trouble whatsoever from the start, but this is far better than expected, that he is sure he is living the best moment of his fate. The softness of you, in his arms, drifting into heavy dreams. It is a treasure for him to see that you can relax beside him, allow him to feel the regularity of breaths, showing your most natural self. 

But the morning is anything like the night.

You wake up from the orange lights of the rising sun, when he gently combs your hair out of your face. There's a fatigue in your muscles, alongside that sweet tinge of pleasure still lingering, making it all bearable. Your skin runs hot where he holds you, your back, your waist, your intertwined legs… The slight prickle of his beard is not pronounced when it's rolling on your shoulder, especially as it's followed by small pecks. He's unable to resist, your intoxicating smell pronounced in the cove of your neck, right under his nose. Only when he feels somewhat satisfied, and you seem a little more conscious, the tonus of your body increasing, he talks. 

You weren't ready for his morning voice.

“Good morning, love.” His hand rises to soothe the redness rising where his chin was pressed. Delicate all over. “I’m afraid I must get going, for both of us’ sake.” 

You give an affirming hum, and swiftly roll out. Your body betrays you without delay, a shiver seizing you, protesting the lack of his heat. You shake your shoulders, not so subtly but it's not like you can cringe. It is your band aid, and you're ripping it out. 

You reach for a robe and put it on rather easily for your questionable nerves and state of mind. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, you should really get going, Obi Wan.” Fuck, that sounds still more aggressive than you are, or you ever intended, a mirror of the storms in your mind. 

“What's the matter?” He's awfully quick to put on his trousers and come near you once again. He looks into your eyes, unobscured by your hair, and then there's that look of reveal on his face, the point of no return. He says your name, a final plead and a warning.

“You must leave soon.” This time, you’re a little softer, but it is nowhere near normal, considering what you shared.

“You think last night was a mistake.” He’s never sounded colder, and you have to focus not to bite your lip. The stern expression on his face is unbecoming of him, but it’s also a great reflection of his fidelity. Now, the other side of the coin shows itself, with his icy eyes and clenched jaw.

“I never-“ said that. Though, is there any possibility of you explaining what you feel? The doubts, the unfamiliarity of these feelings. Could you say, I’m not sure about this thing in between us, without creating the same effect of his claimed words?

There’s a second of silence, as he’s giving you one last chance to speak up. You know, you know that the moment you try, he’s going to break that heartless look, and put his loving hand out.

“For someone who thinks it was a mistake, you don't seem regretful at all.”

“Because it's not, and I don’t!” The confession is for him, but it is hard on you. But that doesn’t mean you’re willing to repeat it. “But it can become one. This has to stop. We can’t go further than this.”

“Why?” He’s trying his best not to raise his voice in this quiet, quiet hour.

“Because this is just- just an infatuation. It will go away. And to remember this time as a good one, we have to be careful, and we’re starting to lose that sense.”

An infatuation. That is the strangest insult he’s ever heard, but the worst nonetheless. An infatuation. The more he repeats the word in his mind, the more his anger grows, with a goal to show you otherwise.

“This is not what happened last night, and you know it.” He was as clear as day, and you honored that likewise. There was no lie. “If this is about you getting pregnant, I swear -”

“No, that's not it.” For once, you show something about the bond you have. “I have no concerns about you, or the whole society, should that happen. I’d even happily move away somewhere nobody knows my name and raise them.” 

Why is that option uttered, when there are far easier choices to make? “You’d rather build a new life than marry me?”

You remain silent once more, owning the coward you are. This is exactly why this wouldn’t work, anyways. He shakes his head, catching himself still thinking of ways to convince you, to work through the problem. He even thinks of walking out of the main door, and running into your father's study, forcing your hand in marriage.

You can see that thought play in his head as his gaze becomes fixated on the door.

"See. That's why.” You beg. “This is just an obsession, and you are maddened with it. You can't see reason, or listen to the sound of it, and I can't watch you make decisions like this. Is this how you actually want to treat me? Blackmail your way into marrying me?”

“So, this is what you think of me.” Blackmail. 

“No, Obi Wan, are you even listening to me?” You cover your face with your hands, a moment to recollect yourself. “Do you know when my next trip is scheduled?” 

Oh. You and your infamous life on the roads. 

“In three days. And do you know I already postponed it once?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we have very different lifestyles, and they are not compatible.”

“Or maybe, you are running from something so long that it has become a habit.”

“I do it because I like it. Because I promised people that I would see them before the end of autumn.” The latter part of your answer is not in your favor, but his, a product of overthinking. You discover that a little too late. He sees it too, along with the fragile curl of your lips, but doesn’t use it against you. Not anymore.

“I wish you a safe trip, then.” That’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to regret your preferences, as he takes a step back, and dresses himself in a blink with perfection. It causes you to feel vulnerable, like his stoic face and impeccable outfit which somehow looks even more put together than yesterday, when he was helped to put it on, paints him like a statue of a Greek god who is putting you on trial.

A trial that you fail.

Yet, by not punishing you, he gives you the worst sentence: Incarceration with your conscience.

#star wars #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi wan smut #obi wan kenobi smut #obi-wan smut #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi fluff

[marmixedwithabitofintellect]

Chapter Six: New Adventures

Surprise Surprise! 🥹🥹🥹 I have missed you all so much and I am so happy to be back writing! This chapter has tested me in ways I could have never imagined, but I am so glad I finally finished and I'm sharing it with you guys 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 I hope you enjoy it and I promise there won't be so much time in between postings ✨✨✨ As always, my inbox is open for you guys and please come talk to me about what you thought of the chapter! All the love, Mar 🤍

May 14, 2022 – June 13, 2022: Month Six

May 17, 2022

Harry. New York City, New York. 7:20 P.M.

The house hadn’t been this loud for a while, probably since Coachella. While Y/N was busy getting Pippa ready for bed, I was in the kitchen with Lambert and Jeff finishing dinner while Pauli, Niji and Elin helped us by setting the table. Mitch went to the airport to pick up Sarah and Glenne, while Ny Oh let us know she would be here later.

After placing the pizzas in the oven there were strong knocks coming from the door which had me laughing, as soon as I opened Glenne kissed my cheek quickly while removing her shoes and pouring some antibacterial gel, “Is she still awake?”, I smiled and nodded, Glenne reached in for Sarah, and they started making their way to the nursery.

I greeted Mitch while leading him to the kitchen, then made my way to the nursery. Once inside, I smiled and went to hug Y/N and kissed her temple, she squeezed my side and turned to kiss my chest, Sarah and Glenne were busy cuddling Pippa who was all smiles.

Y/N cleared her throat and started making her way to grab Pippa, “Okay little miss, say goodbye to your aunts, okay?”, Sarah and Glenne pouted and kissed Pip, then handed Pippa back, exited and closed the nursery door; Y/N settled into the rocking chair while I floated around the room making sure the monitor and fairy lights were on, then sat down next to her and kissed her knee.

She smiled and ran a hand down my face before turning to look at Pip before whispering, “How is she six months old already? It still feels surreal, like six months ago we were learning to give her a bath”, I smiled, and nodded, “Time has gone by so fast, and doing this with you has been the best experience ever”, she smiled and blew me a kiss, “I love you Harry”, I squeezed her hand, “I love you too Y/N”.

Once we settled Pippa in her bassinet, we closed the door and went back into the living room to have dinner with our friends. Once everyone had their dinner plates served and found a place to seat, I reached for my glass and cleared my throat, “Well hello everyone! Thank you for being here; I am glad to have you all here, especially because we still had to celebrate and welcome Jaffra to the band!”

Cheers were heard all over while Jaffra gave us a smile and a silent thank you; once the cheers were done everyone was looking at me again, I smiled and sighed, “So… we’re just three days away from the release of the new album- “, I smiled as cheers and hollers were heard around the living room.

I cleared my throat, “And once the album is out, chaos will surely ensue; between the One Night Only shows and the beginning of tour, this will be a few busy weeks, but I am forever grateful to have you all here with me”, Mitch then said “Here, here!”, I smiled before placing my glass at the table.

“We are about to embark the biggest year of tour so far; with the residencies, Latin America, Australia, Asia and back to Europe it will be a hell of a year, but I trust that we have a great team and things will go on smoothly”, everyone nodded while I took a deep breath, “However, I really feel the need to ask a selfish favor from you”.

Everyone, except for Jeff and Y/N nodded, “I need you guys to promise that you will have the best time, that you will enjoy everything, the good, the bad and the worst, to give your everything into every show, every rehearsal and every travel, because… because I honestly don’t know if this will be the last time we will do this”.

Y/N squeezed my hand and kissed my cheek, “This has been, a very wild ride, and to be honest with you... life has changed so much this last year, and I really don’t know where we’ll be tomorrow, but what I do know, is that right this second, this is where we are supposed to be”, there were nods all over the place, “So once more, let’s cheer to welcome this last adventure with Love On Tour!”.

May 19, 2022

Harry. New York City, New York. 11:55 P.M.

“Drive safely guys! See you tomorrow!”, Glenne and Jeff gave me another wave as the elevator closed, I also closed and locked the main door and leaned mt forehead taking a deep breath, I then walked to the kitchen, made sure that all lights were off, and trash was put away then made my way to the master bedroom.

I expected for Y/N and Pip to be sleeping but was surprised when I opened the door and saw Y/N sitting up and looking out the window and the anxiety I felt when Glenne asked me to go with her to the nursery returned. I sat next to her in bed and reached to run my hand down her face, she turned to see me and gave me a small smile.

“Hi baby, everyone gone?”, I nodded and kissed her cheek before whispering, “Yes, everyone asked me to say goodbye and that they can’t wait to see you tomorrow”, she nodded and sighed while reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze.

I placed another kiss to her cheek before whispering, “You okay?”, she nodded and turned to see me, “Yeah, just tired, all the excitement and the long nights drained me”, I nodded while she continued to talk, “Let’s go to bed yeah? You need your rest too”.

I sighed defeatedly and nodded my head, then made my way to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Once outside I leaned into the bassinet to see Pippa, I smiled then leaned to kiss her cheek softly before pulling back and getting into bed, Y/N joining me a few seconds later.

We both made sure our alarms were one before cuddling into our pillows, I pulled her by the waist and nuzzled her neck, she made sure she was comfortable before letting out a breath and kissing her cheek before whispering, “I love you, and I’m here for you baby, whatever you may need”.

May 21, 2022

New York City, New York. 7:30 A.M.

The smell of fresh coffee pulled me from the slumber I fell into after feeding Pip at around three. I got out of bed and made sure she was still sleeping then left the room, leaving the door was ajar. I then started walking to the kitchen where I could hear Harry humming and cooking.

When I entered, I started making my way to stand behind him and placed a kiss between his shoulder blades, then wrapped my hands around him, he reached down to kiss my hands before whispering, “Good morning baby”, I smiled and placed another kiss, “Hi you, I missed you in bed”.

He laughed a little and turned off the stove, served breakfast and grabbed the plates while I grabbed the coffees before making our way to the table; we started eating in silence, placing little kisses in each other’s hands before he cleared his throat, “How are you?”, his eyes were hopeful on me talking to him.

I sighed and wished I could ignore the elephant in the room but knew it would not be worth it, “I’m not okay, I’m very sad and disappointed”, I sniffled, he reached to clean my tears, “Baby, maybe you should talk with Ellie, or even your dad”, I shrugged my shoulders, “What good would it do? She still belittled me and my baby”, I sniffled, “I get it, I am her disappointment but that little girl sleeping in her bassinet is not guilty.”

He nodded and kissed my temple then rested his forehead against it, I continued to speak up, “I just don’t understand, how can she see her and still pretend she doesn’t exist; isn’t she curious? Like doesn’t she want to know who she is, who she looks like, if she has any personality quirks from me?”

Harry ran his hand down my back then whispered, “I wish I could go back in time and give her a piece of my mind, be sure to protect you both from her; above all I wish I could take away your pain and sadness because you don’t deserve it, and I’m sorry that I couldn’t.”

I smiled in appreciation and reached for a napkin, “I will be okay, I promise you, but I need to feel sad and process this, okay?”, he nodded and squeezed my arm, “However you Mister should start to finish your suitcases, okay? Us girls are already packed, and we leave in about seven hours”, he laughed, then stood up and started clearing the table, “Fine, I will pick this up and will finish packing, okay?”

I nodded then left the kitchen and went into the room and smiled when I noticed that Pippa was slowly rousing form her sleep, “Oh hi baby! good morning my girl how are you?”, she cooed once I pulled her into my arms and started leaving slobbery kisses on my face, “Are you hungry? Yeah? Let’s go eat, then we will have some tummy time and then we’ll get ready, and you’ll nap before our flight because we are leaving for London!”

Pippa smiled and we switched sides, “Oh look at that smile! You’re so happy to go to London huh? I am too, I miss our family so much”, our family, as warmth spread through my chest I turned down and smiled at her, “Yeah baby, our family, the one who chose me and love you because you are their blood, the ones we deserve and will love us forever.”

May 22, 2022

Harry. London, England. 12:45 P.M.

We had been back in London for less than 48 hours and it felt so good just to be home. Even if there was so much chaos and things to get ready, being back with family made the whole travel worth it. My mum had made sure that our fridge and pantry were stocked as soon as we arrived then left some dinner ready for us.

I was finishing setting the table while Y/N got Pippa ready while we waited for our guests to arrive; after setting down some wine glasses the doorbell rang and I smiled when I opened it and saw our first arrival, “Dad! Welcome, come in!”, my dad smiled and hugged me, then proceeded to remove his coat and hang it on one of the available hooks.

“Harry! How are you son? I hope I am not too early?”, I shook my head and we started making our way to the living room, “Not at all, just finished setting the table and waiting for my ladies to be ready, little one woke from her nap a little ago”, he smiled and before he could speak, a voice carried over from the stairs and into the living room.

“I hear that someone is asking for the girl of the hour?”, Y/N appeared with Pippa in her arms and gave my dad a smile while walking to where he was standing, “Des! Welcome! It is so good to see you!”, my dad met her halfway and pulled her into a half hug, “Hello darling, it’s so good to have you guys back here.”

I smiled when I realized that Pippa was giving my dad a very curious look, but still held on to her mum’s arm, she laughed a little and bounced her while my dad offered her a smile and coo, Y/N spoke up, “Who is that baby? Is that your grandad? Do you wanna say hello?”, my dad reached for her and started kissing her cheek, while Pippa patted his cheek.

The doorbell rang again and as Y/N went to open I went to stand next to my dad and Pip, she offered me a smile and I chuckled a little, my dad ran a hand down her head, “Oh she’s definitely a daddy’s girl huh?”, I nodded and reached to kiss her cheek, then turned to look at him, “I mean yes, but as soon as she sees her mum, dad is out of the picture”.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Y/N come into the living room followed by Gemma, Michal and my mum; we all said our hellos and sat down in the living room for a little, Y/N left to check how lunch was coming along and when she came back she sat next to me, I kissed her temple and continued talking with Michal.

Gemma cleared her throat and reached out her arms to grab Pippa, who was still happily being held by my dad, my mum going to sit next to him and cooing at her hoping to coax a few smiles and giggles, “Okay can the grandparents share her with her fave aunt?”, my mum shook her head and my dad placed a kiss on Pippa’s forehead before handing her to Gemma, who was smiling so big and kissing all over her face while the baby cooed at her.

“I can’t believe she can laugh now”, my mum nodded along with my dad who was smiling at the baby as he spoke, then added, “Before we know it she will be crawling and walking and talking”, I shook my head and pouted, “Nope, not happening, we have been discussing the fact that she needs to stay this little forever”, Y/N shook her head but before she could add anything else left for the kitchen to get the pasta out of the oven.

“H! It’s ready!”, I nodded to the direction of her voice then turned to our guests, “Okay everyone lunch is ready, so let’s go to the dining room”, we all started walking towards the lovely smells and took our seats at the table, Y/N went to grab Pippa and promised Gem she would give her back as soon as she ate, the took her seat next to me and settled Pip in her lounger.

After a delicious lunch and an even better conversation, we all moved back to the living room to have some dessert and tea; Gemma laid with Pippa, Y/N, and my mum on her little playmat for her tummy time while the rest of us scattered in the couches around. My mum then turned to look at me and asked, “Is everything ready for your show?”

I nodded while I sipped on my tea then left it on the coaster, “Pretty much, we will do a visit to the venue tomorrow and Tuesday will be packed before the show; I’ve arranged for a van to pick you all up so that you can all come together, is that okay?”, everyone nodded then continued to enjoy their dessert.

It was around seven that we said our goodbyes and once I made sure my mum was distracted, I nodded at Gemma, who came to stand next to me and whispered, “So, still up for babysitting tomorrow?”, she nodded then turned to make sure mum was not coming, “Yup, will be here tomorrow at around 5 okay?”, I nodded and then we said our goodbyes; once I made sure they were all on their cars I licked the door and went upstairs to join bedtime routine.

May 24, 2022

London, England. 10:30 P.M.

I closed the nursery door and made sure that the monitor was on before making my way downstairs where friends and family were digging into the catering we had ordered for after Harry’s concert, which by the way, had been such an eclectic event.

Once I entered the kitchen, I was greeted with a plate served by Anne, I smiled in appreciation and she squeezed my arm before taking a sip of her drink, “Baby went down, okay?”, I nodded and finished chewing before answering her, “She did, I was worried she would wake up once I transferred her, but she must’ve been so tired.”

She chuckled in agreement and gave me a soft smile, a few seconds later I felt someone pull me into a chest and kiss the back of my head, I smiled and settled myself against his side and kissed his peck, “Hello superstar! Enjoying your party?”, he nodded and opened his mouth, I fed him a bite of my sandwich and while he chewed Anne and I continued to discuss our plans for the weekend.

After swallowing his bite, he gave me a soft squeeze and then turned to look at Gemma and asked her to come over, Anne gave us a curious smile and I reached to squeeze her arm, she then asked us, “Is everything okay?”, we nodded and Harry spoke up, “We just want to talk to you all, is that okay?”, they both nodded and we made our way to the foyer, where we knew we could talk privately.

Des and Michal also joined us, and Harry cleared his throat before speaking up, “So… we have been keeping a secret from you guys”, my mum gasped before excitedly whispering, “Are you pregnant?”, we both chuckled and shook our heads, “No, we’re not pregnant, but we hope to have more babies later on.”

Anne nodded and asked us, “Well, are you guys okay?”, Harry nodded and smiled, “Yeah mum… uhm we have been speaking about our future as a family, and where we want to settle”, Gem was smiling while my mom gave us a hopeful smile, Harry continued, “So… we have been viewing a few properties in different locations, and…”

Anne gave us an excited but careful nod and harry turned to look at me, I smiled and kissed his hand, which was laying on my shoulder then turned to look at our family, “We just put an offer for a house”, before they could speak up, I added, “Here, well actually, a few blocks down”, everyone’s eyes opened so big, Anne was stuck in her place while Gemma pulled us into a hug followed by everyone else.

Anne stood frozen in her place with some tears falling from her eyes, Harry walked carefully next to her and as soon as she could she pulled him into her arms, and a few seconds later she pulled me into her arms too, then whispered, “I cannot believe this! I honestly had made pace with the idea of only seeing you three every few months, but the fact that I will be able to see you when we feel like it? It’s just priceless.”

We pulled back and turned to look at everyone, Des spoke up, “So what’s next?”, Harry smiled, “Well, we have to wait and see if the offer will be accepted, Olive our real estate agent said it could take anywhere from weeks to months, so it’s a waiting game”, Gemma smiled, “Well, I cannot wait for us to be able to go house shopping”, I laughed, “I’ll definitely let you know Gems”.

May 28, 2022

Harry. London, England. 10:30 A.M.

“See you in a few mate!”, Jeff nodded and continued to walk with the personnel from BBC while I made my way to the entrance to collect Y/N and Pippa, as soon as I saw her she gave me a big smile and I pulled her into a kiss and hug, then we started to make our way back to my dressing room.

Once inside I lifted the blanket covering the stroller and smiled at the sleeping baby; not wanting to disturb her sleep I let the blanket fall again and walked to sit with Y/N on the couch, once I settled her on my lap, I started kissing her cheek repeatedly while she let out some squeals and little laughs.

A ping from her phone had me pulling back and reaching for my phone to see if I had any new notifications. She took out a deep breath and squeezed my arm before chuckling, I turned to look at her and gave her a questioning look, she settled on my lap and whispered “Harry…”, u hummed and kissed her nose with my eyes closed.

She whispered again, “They accepted the offer”, I opened my eyes and smiled at her, my eyes asking her to confirm what she just said, and she nodded before speaking up, “We got our house H”, I stood up and pulled her into a hug while we spun, making sure to keep quiet for the baby. I stopped and whispered against her lips, “We got our house baby”, she nodded and placed a chaste kiss then whispered, “We got our house”.

June 11, 2022

Glasgow, Scotland. 7:30 A.M.

A whimper coming from the monitor pulled me out of bed, I grabbed my sweatshirt then made my way to the adjoining room where we had created a nursery for Pippa, turned on the lamp and cooed at the crying baby, “Oh no baby what are those tears for huh? We’re here for a dress-up party for your daddy!”

I settled on the bed and removed my sweatshirt and shirt so I could feed Pippa, who latched immediately, “Oh you were hungry huh? I’m sorry baby I am such a meanie huh?”, she turned to look at me and my eyes watered, I still could not understand how I could love her so much.

Once she finished, I changed her diaper and we left her room and ordered some room service, the turned to pull out the little cake, candles, and balloons I bought yesterday while sightseeing with Glenne. As soon as I finished setting up room service arrived, and I went into our room to wake him up.

With Pippa in my arms, I walked to my side of the bed and settled with her on the bed, once she saw her dad she squealed and I laughed, then placed her next to Harry’s face, “Come on baby say, ‘Dada wake up!’”, she started aggressively patting his cheek; he let out a deep breath and chuckled, “Morning baby girl! hello you!”, he turned around and pulled her into his lap, she smiled and he pulled her in for a kiss then turned to look at me, “Hi baby.”

I smiled and leaned to kiss his lips then whispered, “Hi, breakfast is ready, wanna come out?”, he nodded then handed me the baby, went to the bathroom and as soon as he came out, we headed to the living room. He stopped on his tracks and smiled at the decorations I set out for him and pulled me into a hug.

We sat down and started eating breakfast, then I lit up the candle and before he could blow it I cleared my throat, “I just want to say that I’m so proud of you, it is amazing to be a witness to your radiance and happiness and to be able to love you at the end of everything”, I sniffled and he squeezed my hand and reached for Pippa.

“I know that we won’t be able to be with you every single date physically, but I need you to remember that we are always with you here”, I placed my hand over his heart and he sniffled before whispering, “I love you Y/N more than words are able to express it, and I know I repeat it a lot, but I truly will never ever be able to repay you for everything.”

I pulled him in for a kiss, then left a bunch of smooches on Pippa’s head before pulling back and whispering, “Now before you blow your candles, I want for you to make a wish for this tour, okay?”, he nodded and closed his eyes, then blew out the candle. Pippa and I clapped a little then kissed his cheek before speaking up, “Okay my love, you have about four hours until we have to be at the arena, so take your time getting ready, okay?”, he nodded then pulled me up, “How about we settle her for a nap then enjoy the tub for a little?”, I nodded then followed him.

June 11, 2022

Harry. Glasgow, Scotland. 7:45 P.M.

The murmur of the crowd was enough for my hands to tremble harder than they already were before and I could feel the sweat falling down my spine; I had been ready for a while and met my band for our pre-show ritual, and hugged my family, but right now the only thing I wanted was to hug my girls.

Speaking of, they have been on my dressing room for a while because little miss Pippa had an explosive accident, so I knew that’s where I would find them. As soon as I entered Y/N offered me a smile, however it disappeared when I started sniffling and making my way to them, “Baby what’s- “, I didn’t let her finish before I pulled her into a hug.

She started running her hand down my back while cooing at me, “Baby it’s okay, take a deep breath”, it took me a few moments, but I calmed down and we pulled back; she ran her hands down my cheeks and cleaned my tears.

Before I could speak up a shriek had us looking at the baby laying on the cushions next to us, Y/N laughed and pulled her into her arms kissing her head, “Were you missing us baby? we could never forget you huh?”, I smiled and handed Pippa my fingers to chew on, Y/N whispered, “Feeling better?”, I nodded, “so much.”

We stayed like this until Jeff came to get us, I pulled her up with me and we walked all the way to the side of the stage, we turned to look at each other and smiled, she spoke up, “We’ll be watching from the box, yes?”, I nodded and kissed Pip’s cheeks and her lips three times, “I love you baby, I’ll see you after okay?”

She nodded and I started making my way to the back of the stage and stopped on my tracks when I heard her scream my name, I turned to look at her, “Yes?”, she smiled, “Welcome to Love on Tour 2.0; break a leg handsome.”

Taglist @adoredeanna @alienorknight @be-with-me-so-happily @behindmygreyeyes @cherrylovesblog @karenarella22 @daphnesutton @dayxoxodreamer @dirtytissuebox @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @goldenlouvr @groovychaosavenue @harrysficreblog @harryspirate @hoya122 @imaginesofdreams @i-got-the-cinema @infinitely-yellow @irelilien @itsgabbysblog @itsgigikay @itsmytimetoodream @jgoff717 @kathy522 @last-saturday-night @michellekstyles @msolbesg @shawnsblue @sunshinemoonsposts @tinydeskwriter @tinydestinybear @tpwkstyles1d @voosa @watercolorskyy @wherethehellhaveyoubeenharry

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #dad harry styles imagine #the story of us #harry imagine #dad!harry #dad harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles story

[rockingrobin69]

Numbly

“I've been informed,” Harry Potter burst through the door with his habitual earth-quake of a shout, “that you don’t even like peppers!”

“Good morning,” Draco said dryly. Harry Potter glared.

With a sigh, Draco retreated to the kitchen to fetch the biscuits from the cupboard.

Around his third one, an insistent crumb hanging to his upper lip with all its tiny might: “Peppers, Malfoy!”

“Pardon?”

“Peppers!”

Draco blinked. “If you’ll be so kind as to tell me what on earth you’re on about.”

“Pansy said you hate them!”

He looked absolutely outraged. Draco sipped his long-cold tea.

“Do I?”

“She said you’re allergic!”

“Am I?”

“Stop—fucking with me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” But the corner of his lips was twitching. “I’m not allergic. I was simply a horribly dramatic child and she still naïve back when we were, what, six. Seven. I’m fine with peppers now.”

Harry Potter pouted, terribly chipmunk-ish, and even put the biscuit pack down. Down to business. “I cooked the—bloody hell, Malfoy, just, honestly. Why wouldn’t you say? That you hate peppers. I would’ve made something else. I would have happily—why?”

Utterly bemused, “I am. Honest, I mean. I don’t mind peppers anymore.”

“That’s a fucking lie and we both know it.”

Grasping at straws and failing, at least managing to stop the wobble of his stupid mouth, the automatic turning downwards. Went for his cup instead. The tea was ice-cold and flavourless and Draco poured it down his throat like it could cure him.

“Your hair’s a mess,” he then said, venomous, and turned his eyes back to the wall, where they refused to stay. It was always like this when Harry Potter barged into his flat. Even the water stains on the ceiling lost their usual allure and could not hold his attention. “If it’s raining, cast a bloody Impervious. Or take an umbrella.”

Harry Potter took a deep breath instead, sounding awfully, weirdly small. Some of the tension bled out of him in increments, his shoulders first, then the fists unclenching, then his belly un-hardening. His jaw was last. Draco was helplessly mesmerised by the transformation.

“You’re impossible,” but his voice finally not straining, his fingers not twitching towards the biscuits. No longer needing the obvious distraction. “Next time, if I make something you dislike, you have to tell me.”

“An order,” Draco huffed. “How sweet.”

Harry Potter could blush all the way to the roots of his hair. It was such a stunning, breath-stealing wonder to witness.

“It’s not a… fuck you.”

“Hmm.”

They sat there in strangely amicable silence. The oven still gave that choking, desperate cough every ten seconds, and it set a nice framework for their breathing, for the non-fidgeting. Harry Potter was always fidgety, but not when he sat in Draco’s kitchen like this.

“What’s your schedule? For today. Nev said you’re doing overtime again.” Leaning back, giving Draco that look all his friends liked to wear, the one on the border of a telling-off. It didn’t usually work on him, but Harry Potter had a slight edge to his disappointment that made Draco’s skin crawl.

“Not—exactly. Shouldn’t be so late. I’ll be home for bedtime, Mother, I promise.”

Even his mother didn’t glare like that. “Third time this week? I kind of want to strangle your boss.”

“Ha. I should inform you that violence is usually frowned upon in the workplace.”

He didn’t smile, but he came near it. Draco could tell, because the corners of his eyes were dancing. “Does it count if it's not my workplace?”

“Mm. Fair enough. Strangle away.”   

Now he was smiling. “When d’you start? Want a ride?”

And Draco was so grateful he didn’t launch yet another tirade about how Draco should quit that he said, “Why not.” (Only because he was distracted and rather tired, and not because sitting behind Harry Potter on his motorbike was in itself half-punishment, and not because clinging to his waist on tight turns at far-too-quick was—anything at all). On the downside, it made Harry Potter practically beam, and Draco still needed his eyes.

“Great! I mean. That’s good. That you won’t be late. Bad for your, er, record, and stuff, and you might not get a—bonus or something.”

They didn’t do bonuses at McMillan & McMillan, but that was neither here nor there. Draco nodded, pushed himself up on not so flimsy legs, collected his coat from where it was crumpled on the back of a chair.

“What about lunch?”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t take. Any lunch.”

Why was he so obsessed with food? It was dangerously endearing. “I have an apple in my bag. Come now, you promised I won’t be late.”

“An—” Harry Potter shook his head, loosening even more curls out of his bun. They were rain-flat and miserable and still entirely too sweet. “I’ll buy you a sandwich at that poor excuse for a cafeteria you got there. And so help me god, Malfoy, you’ll eat it, or—”

“All right,” both hands up, “no need to shout. Your wish is my command, etcetera.”

He pouted so hard it was almost comical. But there was something still wounded there, so Draco added, “As long as there’s peppers, you know,” and then he was fuming again, bouncing on the balls of his feet and ready to deliver yet-another lecture. Draco watched him, amused, and forgot to lock the door behind him, and forgot his scarf.

Did remember his umbrella, which he Leviosa-ed to follow the Death Machine, stuck it against the silly jacket's back when they reached the office. It wasn’t raining anymore, thankfully allowing Draco to arrive not wet-dog for a change, and it made absolutely no difference.

Harry Potter took off his helmet to watch Draco enter the building. Didn’t follow him inside (wise, to prevent a murder), and so Draco completely forgot about the sandwich threat until it was roughly lunchtime. At which point, a drawer in his desk suddenly jumped open, and a far-too-fancy £12 bready tower appeared. On it a note that scrawled pepper-free, git.

Harry Potter had a lot to answer for. Draco, distracted, chipped away at the sandwich all the same, and was only shouted at twice, and didn’t even spill coffee on his keyboard.

‘Not exactly overtime’ at the office meant staying after everyone else to take note of stock and arrange all the impossible paperwork. That Draco was given this task was already hilarious, and always a disaster: that his boss insisted on continuing to give it to him, possibly commendable. Maybe he thought Draco was being stubborn. Maybe he thought, nobody could really be this bad without actively trying. Well, he didn’t know Draco yet! There was always time to learn.

Stock was stocked. The backroom was stuffy and still smelling slightly of smoke (not Draco’s fault, probably), the sweet dusty smell of paperwork going to rot. It made his head spin, not unpleasantly, made him inhale a little brokenly and laugh to himself. The sandwich from all the way back lunch sat heavy in his belly, sweating. Everything was so incredibly laughable.

When he finally finished (after only forgetting three steps in the protocol), the sun had long set and the streetlights were humming. Not worrying, Draco thought, going back to the office (forgot his bag). Not worrying at all (back to the office, to check he locked the door). (Why would anyone give him the keys?) (Some disasters were just asking to happen).

On his way home he stopped by the corner shop for another pack of biscuits. Some disasters, sure, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t prepare in advance. Harry Potter would surge in soon enough with another grievance. Draco was giddy by nature, and so the shakiness was not necessarily to do with this.

To the crescent moon drowning in cloud he wondered, do I hate peppers?

Couldn’t remember to decide by the time he made it back.

#this came to me in a not-enough-sleep #and i've been making little scenes of it in my head all day long #draco insists on calling harry 'harry potter' every single time #he hits his head on the oven and harry gives him a kiss and they're both mortified? sitting under the kitchen's neon light in silence #everyone barges in his flat and they're all so dramatic and he's so dryly amused by it #also they're all so disappointed with how little care he takes of himself and he chokes on how he's barely keeping it together #no this is fun i promise. i promise #anyway what do i tag even. i forgot how to do this #drarry fic #right? #1300 words ish #rockingrobin69 #this is a part of a wip? technically? i GUESS?

[makeitmingi]

Cause Baby You’re My Muse [Chapter 4]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.2K

‘Producer Indigo! Where are you? Are you playing hooky? If so, why was I not invited? - Wooyoung’

You yawned as you looked over at the message from Wooyoung. You have been at KQ for about two weeks already and the boys have all become friends with you. But you had a closer friendship with Hongjoong and Wooyoung compared to the rest.

‘Was working the whole night... Had a meeting end at 11 then have just been working non stop. Didn’t want to lose track of what was discussed for the track. - Indigo’

‘Wait, you’ve been working since 11?! Do you know it’s 10 am now?! - Wooyoung’

‘It is...? Oh, I didn’t even notice. - Indigo’

After meetings, you liked to work immediately, to not lose that creative high. Last night was your first meeting with the JYP producers ater signing the contract with them to produce one of their artist’s songs.

‘Wooyoung just yelled, saying that he can’t believe you have been working for close to 12 hours. You should go to sleep.- Hongjoong’

Yes, you did want to sleep. But first, you needed some food in your system. You went to the kitchen to make yourself some toast because that was what you were craving, toast with jam and butter. And an iced latte since caffeine didn’t have an effect on you. You leaned against the counter to eat your toast, your brain just blank. 

‘Yes, captain. Eating then straight to bed after. - Indigo.’

You sent a picture of your half eaten toast to Hongjoong. He replied with a thumbs up sticker. It was weird, you’ve never shared so much of your life with others before but it was strangely fun to do so with them.

‘Could you come do your drum beat in the studio tomorrow? I did a bit of alteration and cleaning, all we need to do is add your beat. - Indigo’

‘Ah, you should honestly be focusing on refueling and resting for now instead of tomorrow’s work. But I have a schedule tomorrow. I’ll pop by around 4? - Hongjoong’

‘Sounds good. See you. And also, I have to plan for tomorrow because you could be busy with schedules. - Indigo’

After doing the dishes, you went to save your work in your studio and turn off your system. Then you washed up and dived straight into bed. 

RINGGGG

“Hello...?” You drowned out, close to falling asleep.

“Oh, good. You’re resting. Indigo, you can’t keep pulling all nighters like that, it is not good for your health. I know work is important but if get sick, you won’t be able to work for even longer periods of time. Hongjoong hyung always tells us to take care of our bodies.” Wooyoung rambled.

“Right...” You were having a hard time paying attention to him, sleep threatening to consume you the moment your head had touched the pillow. But you were grateful he was concerned for you.

“Wooyoung ah, I think she’s falling asleep already and can’t focus on your nagging.” You heard San in the background. 

“I’ll take him away now, Indigo. Sleep well~” You now heard San’s voice clearly while Wooyoung was yelling.

“Thanks, San... I’ll talk to you later, Wooyoung...” You trailed off as the call cut and you closed your eyes, finally letting sleep take over you. You didn’t know how long you slept for but the sun had set by the time you woke up.

‘Hey! It has been a while since we’ve met up. The boys and I are going for drinks tonight, would you like to come? We can all catch up. - Dean’

The invite came in while you were making dinner, Considering how you haven’t met them for a while, you agreed.

‘There might be press, just be careful. But it’s all familiar faces tonight. - Dean’

He assured you. Despite being older than you, you knew Dean from way back, when you first starting out. Meeting and working with Korean R&B and Hip hop artists was a lot more common than you would expect. And you clicked with Dean immediately, his appreciation for privacy helped him protect your identity from the press. 

‘Thanks for the heads up. They probably heard that you’ve emerged from hiding or something. - Indigo’

Keeping it simple, you wore a black cocktail dress with a leather jacket over your shoulders. To accompany that, you wore some boots. You called a cab and left the house to go to the club.

“Name?” The bouncer asked when you arrived.

“Indigo.” You replied. He shot you a skeptical look, taking in your mask figure. But he nodded and stepped aside for you the enter. 

“VIP is upstairs.” He told you. You gave him a thumbs up and turned to the staircase, away from the other patrons on the first level. Just like Dean said, it was all familiar faces. 

“There she is. Indigo.” Dean smiled, drinking in hand, and came over to give you a big hug.

“It has been a while, Hyuk. How are you?” You asked as you wrapped your arms around him with a laugh. 

“I’m good, it’s been great having a break from everything. What about you? I heard you’re working with KQ now?” He held your shoulders after pulling away. You nodded your head with a sheepish smile. 

“Just freelancing for them.” You said as you both sat down.

“Well, it’s always good to expand your circle and earn experience.” He smiled, handing you a drink with a straw. You clinked glasses with him and took a sip. After that, you proceeded to greet your other friends that were there, having a quick catch up with all of them.

“How has it been working with idols?” 

“Not that bad. I can’t say that all idols are like that but this group is full of hardworking people. They’re always in the studio working and they have good input.” You shrugged.

“Edenary has some good people. And I hear the leader of that group is quite the budding producer.” Dean said.

“Yeah, Hongjoong. He is talented, has producing potential.” You nodded your head. Dean smiled, he was glad you were getting to know more people and you seemed to really like Ateez from the way you were talking about them. 

“I’m proud of you. All your hardwork is getting paid off.” He patted your head and you blushed. 

“I’m going out back for a smoke.” Dean stood up, hands tucked into his pockets. You followed him even though you don’t smoke. 

RINGGGGG

“Excuse me. Let me take this.” You stepped aside to answer the phone. Dean nodded his head, busy typing on his phone as he smoked. When you took your phone out of your pocket, you were not expecting to see a call from Mingi, usually only Hongjoong and Wooyoung would contact you outside of working hours and at such an hour.

“Want to come for movie night?” 

“With you?” You choked, not expecting that. Dean shot you a weird look but you waved him off. 

“Yes? And the boys..At our dorm. I know it’s very last minute notice and we’ll understand if you can’t make it. They just suddenly decided during dinner just now.”

“Don’t worry. The thing is... I’m busy now... Is tomorrow okay?” You asked. On the other side, you heard whispering and assumed Mingi was asking the other boys if they were okay with tomorrow night instead.

“I’m done. Want me to stay here with you until you’re done?” Dean came to you. You pulled the phone away from your ear temporarily.

“No, go ahead. I should be finishing up soon.” You told him. He nodded and headed back in while you pressed the phone to your ear to continue speaking to Mingi. But it was silent.

“Mingi...? You there?” 

“Oh... yeah... The others said they’re fine with tomorrow since you’ll be meeting Hongjoong hyung in the studio. You can just come over with him. Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s oka-” You didn’t even get to reply before he hung up. Blinking in confusion, you looked at the phone. With a shrug, you put your phone back into your pocket and went back into the club. But you didn’t stay long since it was late and you had to work tomorrow.

“Oppa, can we take a picture with you? Please.” Some girls came up to Dean as you were all exiting. This was your chance to slip away before anyone could notice you or take a picture of you hanging out with Dean. 

“Tell Hyuk I’ll head back on my own. I’ll see you guys soon.” You exchanged hugs with them.

“Don’t be a stranger, Indigo.” They waved. 

On the way home, you did send a text to Dean and another when you arrived home. You took a shower and made some ramen which was always good after a night of drinks. 

-

Since you didn’t drink a lot last night, you were able to wake up and not be hung over. Coffee in hand, you entered KQ. 

“Good morning. There were some packages for you that came in yesterday. They have been delivered to your studio.” The security guard said. You nodded your head and bowed before going upstairs. There were some packages outside of your studio door. You unlocked the door, holding it open with your foot as you dragged each parcel in. 

“Oh.” You unwrapped the acrylic album boxes to put and display your signed albums, as well as some other things to put in your studio. But then, your phone started buzzing.

‘We got caught, Indigo. Sorry. - Dean’

‘Thankfully it’s not breaking news so I think we’re fine. And no one seems to guess or suspect that it’s you. I’ll damage control if you need. - Dean’

Following his message were links to some article, a mysterious girl being photographed with Dean at the club last night. 

‘Who is that?’

‘He comes out of hiatus to show his girlfriend off?’

‘I saw them last night but they were all in a big group and she stood with the rest. Maybe they’re all just friends?’

There were a few comments but not much. Probably because it was common for underground artists to be in relationship and get married. You sighed, leaning back in your chair as you read the comments. Thankfully, no one suspected that it was ‘Prod. Indigo’.

“And they ask why I want to remain a ghost.” You clicked your tongue and left your phone aside to turn on your computer systems. After that, you were only focused on your work.

Besides working on your own projects, you had some meetings throughout the day, with Edenary and with some other company representatives. 

“No one recognised you but just be careful, okay Indigo? Especially since you’re now hanging out with Ateez.” Eden advised.

“It was really just hanging with friends. There was a group of us.” You scratched your head.

“I understand and while you’re not under KQ’s contract and rules, it’s for your safety. Especially if we are protecting your identity.” Eden smiled empathetically. You just nodded, knowing he was in a difficult spot too. 

“I will be more careful.” You assured. You gathered your things and left the studio to continue working, 

“Hmmmm~ Please work out, my melody~” You sang and hummed the melody to yourself out loud as you worked, wheeling your chair between the computer, the MIDI board and your syntehsizer as you needed. When you were done with one section, you would play it back to yourself and make any changes if necessary. Then your doorbell rang.

“Coming!” You removed your headphone and quickly saved your files before wearing your mask and going to answer the door. Poking your head out, you blinked at Hongjoong.

“Hongjoong...?” 

“We were supposed to meet at 4? Remember?” He tilted his head with a smile, laughing at your confused expression. 

“Oh! I did not realise that it was 4 already. Please come in.” You let him into the studio. That was when you noticed Mingi behind him. Mingi stiffly bowed to you and you felt the need to bow back to him.

“I hope you don’t mind but Mingi wanted to tag along.” Hongjoong told you. 

“Sure. Have a seat. The more input the better.” You chuckled and walked back to your desk. Hongjoong grabbed a stool to sit beside you at the desk.

“But I don’t know anything about producing.” Mingi spoke.

“That’s okay. I will gladly accept any opinion and input, it’s still in the experimental stage anyway.” You smiled through your eyes to him before turning back to the computer. 

“There’s still space here. It’ll be better to listen from a closer distance.” You pointed to the spot on your other side after noticing that Mingi sat on the couch at the back. He nodded and grabbed a stool to sit. But unlike Hongjoong, he sat a little further back instead of right beside you.

“So I’ll let you listen to the revised stuff. There’s not much of a change so I think the additional remix beats can still work. The only thing I did was put more emphasis on the guitar rather than the piano.” You explained.

“Okay. Mingi ah, maybe you can come up with some lyrics too.” Hongjoong nodded over to the tall male, who nodded his head, as you clicked around to find the folder in your computer.

“Oh right. You’re the lyricist.” You remembered what Hongjoong told you when you first met him. You played the music and he swayed along. 

“Just have fun with it and experiment.” You told him. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” Hongjoong pulled his sleeves up and began to work. The atmosphere became very serious with all of you focusing on your task. Even Mingi was leaning forward, a serious look on his face. 

“I would try it with less bass and more snare.” Hongjoong said after listening to the track. 

“Go ahead.” You nodded to him to start. 

After working for a while, you decided to take a break. You grabbed a drink from the mini fridge you finally had set up in your studio. You encouraged the two males to choose their own drinks since there were different kinds in there. Then you all sat down together, with them on the couch and you still in your comfy working chair, to talk. 

“Are you okay? We saw the news article... That was you, right? With Dean sunbaenim.” Hongjoong asked.

“Oh yeah. It’s not a big deal. We’re friends but haven’t seen each other in a bit so we all met up as a group. At least no one recognised it as me. I mean, you guys would have because you kind of know what I look like.” You laughed.

“That’s a relief.” Mingi said.

“Thank you for your concern though. But there’s no need to worry.” You assured, assuming Mingi was referring to you being safe despite the news. 

“We didn’t know you were friends with underground artists. Dean subaenim is very popular and talented.” Hongjoong said.

“I mean, I’ve worked with them a lot more. But Hyuk, he kind of helped me when I was first starting out since he was older and has a lot more experience. So I feel grateful to him.” You shrugged. The two nodded their heads. 

“Other than that, you’ve been here for 2 weeks. How has it been?” Hongjoong changed the subject.

“It’s been good. Not much has changed work wise. But I really appreciate how welcoming all of you have been and the care you have shown despite only knowing me for two weeks.” You said shyly.

“Of course, as long as you’re comfortable here. Like San said, we’re all family here. We help each other out and care for one another.” Hongjoong smiled warmly, making you feel even more embarrassed. You were not always the best with expressing feelings and emotions. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had someone care so much for me before.” You said in passing with a laugh. But the sad looks Hongjoong and Mingi sent you made you retract your statement.

“Ah, no! I don’t- I’m not saying I-” You shook your hands as you grew flustered.

“It’s okay.” Mingi comforted. You chewed on your bottom lip behind your mask, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“W-We should get back to work if we want to end soon.” You pointed to the desk, immediately turning around and wheeling yourself back, so they wouldn’t see your face and you wouldn’t have to meet their eyes. 

You continued to work with Hongjoong as he fine tuned it. Even if he was just adding a beat, you admired how focused and determined he was. He was a perfectionist.

“So, any lyric ideas yet?” Your question was directed at Mingi after seeing him type away on his phone. Your eyes remained on the screen as you added Hongjoong’s beat with some editing.

“Is this an Ateez song?” He blinked.

“It can be. Nothing is set in stone. Just wanted to know if you were inspired or something. Or think there’s a theme to go with the song.” You shrugged. 

“I only asked that because if it is an Ateez song, I would have to write lyrics that can reflect all the members like their style of conveying words. It is different if I was writing for someone else or for myself.” He explained. You nodded your head, processing his rationale. It did make sense and you felt bad for assuming he meant anything negative. 

“I’ve never written lyrics before. It feels too... personal.” You chuckled. 

“You’ve never tried?” Hongjoong asked.

“Of course I’ve tried. Some entertainment companies want the whole package, beat, melody and lyrics for their artists to use. But I think similar to what Mingi said, it’s... for the lack of a better word, vulnerable.” You said.

“I agree. I think there’s a perception that we just pour feelings onto paper and write out whatever emotional line there is. But we also have to know what feelings to separate.” Mingi added.

“Alright, let’s listen to this again.” You pressed play and the 3 of you listened intently. Only when it ended, you saw the smile on Hongjoong’s face.

“I think we got it.” He chuckled. You nodded in agreement excitedly. When music works well, it is one of the most satisfying, heart warming, rewarding thing ever. 

“It’s great. I like it.” Mingi nodded in approval. 

“Good job.” Hongjoong reached out and patted your head, a soft smile on his head. It was something you grew comfortable with him doing. He was really like an older brother and working with him was a breeze, considering the two of you had similar working styles and personalities. 

“It’s thanks to you two. Ah, I’m so happy.” You leaned your head back with a blissful sigh.

“I didn’t do anything. It was all you and the captain.” Mingi shook his head. 

“Your thoughts and opinions helped improve it, Mingi ah. It was good that you tagged along today.” Hongjoong said and you nodded. You saw Mingi blush at Hongjoong’s words, looking away shyly. 

~

Series Masterlist

#kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop series #kpop imagines #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez series #ateez imagines #song mingi #song mingi x reader #song mingi scenarios #song mingi series #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi scenarios #mingi series #mingi x you #mingi x y/n #idol!ateez #ateez x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wasted 9

Warnings: drug dealing/use, violence, noncon, and the usual. Proceed with caution.

(Yes I'm procrastinating rn)

Feedback is always welcome. Love you and thanks for the wonderful responses so far.♥♥♥♥

The other girl in this one is from Black Light

Part of The Club AU

You sit behind the glass and yawn in the deathly din of the transit office. You lazily scroll a finger over your phone. The brief rush has dissipated so now you're free to read old forums about the cult classic show you've been bingeing.

Despite your hours being cut, every shift feels too long. The time is dull as most people buy their passes online or get tickets at a kiosk in the mall. So you work is minimal and the pay even less. Not to mention, your patience.

You lean your chin in your hand and press your finger to your lashes, trying to keep the old mascara from stinging your eyes. The chirp of the sensor has you sitting up and you nearly bite your tongue as you try to greet the customer. Not him!

“Closed,” you lie and reach for the metal gate above, struggling to clasp onto the handle.

“Hours say–”

“Get the fuck out, dude,” you snarl and hop, rolling down the grate and slamming it into place.

You swear as it hits your phone, knocking it through the small slot under the glass partition, locking it out and you in. You lock the bottom, not caring about the burner. Fuck it, you only ever text Snicky.

“Come on, doll,” Bucky stops by your phone, bending to pick it up, “how many of these you lost so far?”

He wiggles the phone at you, am eighty dollar Polaroid piece of shit.

“Leave me alone.”

“Ah, what's happened to customer service these days?” He tuts and comes closer, shoulder broad and rolling. “Look, I'm not here for me, right?” He tucks your phone in his jacket pocket, “my friend, Steve, the string bean, he likes you.”

“I don't fucking know you. Or him. And I don't wanna know you–”

“You don't? Cause I think I got to know you pretty well–”

“Fucking ass–”

“Let's not keep going through this, alright? Now, I've been pretty damn nice. Do you know how much you can learn from a phone? I know you're about thirty-seven dollars in overdraft and your Instagram keeps popping up with pictures of that dumb girl that hangs off you.”

“How, I–”

“Locked me out? You think,” he taps on the glass on the other side of the gate, “what if I made you a deal?”

“I'm not into the hard stuff,” you scoff.

“Didn't seem to mind it,” he winks, “maybe coulda gone for something lighter…”

“What do you want?” You bark.

“Alright, alright, like I said, it's not me,” he smirks, his gaze creeping up and down your figure. “My friend, he's got no luck with the girls. Told me you stood up for him. That's sweet despite… being you.”

“So you wanna be my pimp? Oh, fuck off–”

“A date. That's it.” His hand tightens in his pocket, gripping your phone. “Humour him. He's been moping about you all week.”

“Yeah right, I'm not stupid–”

“You won't see me. Really, I got plans. Saturday's are good for business, not worth the cut.”

Your nostrils flare. You want to be done with it, him, that club, and all the losers who hang out there. You bite down and cross your arms, glaring at him.

“How about… three hundred?” He offers. “Up front.”

He shifts and pulls the phone out of his pocket. He sets it before the slot in the window then reaches into his back pocket. He takes out his wallet and counts several bills.

“He'll pay for dinner. He's the old fashioned type, you know? Just wear something sexy.”

You scowl, furrowing your nose as your mouth dries. You can't believe you're even considering this. Are you that low?

Well, hes offering as much as you get in a week and the last chunk of your rent. So yes, you are.

“Saturday?” You ask crisply.

“Seven,” he slides the money and phone against the bottom of the gate, “I'll send you the time and place.”

“If I even hear your name–”

“Relax,” he backs up, “I got mine. Just take it easy on my pal.” He smirks and uns his thumb along his bottom lip, “he's a virgin.”

“You're nasty.”

“Oh I know I'm just your type but he's better for you,” he chuckles and turns, stalking to the door, “and if you don't show, I'll be back to collect and trust,” he pauses, “I always get what I'm owed.”

The door swings shut and you stare after him. Slowly you look down and unlock the gate. You push it up and reach for the phone and the bills. The skinny one can’t cause you that much trouble, can he?

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the club #au #drabble #series #wasted #mcu #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #avengers

[cateyesinlove]

To my secret Santa, Merry Christmas @sirenarts , haven meeting you is one of the best things this year and I will forever be grateful I get to call you my friend!

AO3

“No” Azriel simply answered while cheeking some paper from a folder, leaning into his desk with ease as if he didn’t have the fiercest of lawyers in the whole New York area in front of him murdering him with her sight, Lady Death herself, Nesta Archeron.

“What do you mean no” she growled, arms crossed and fuming.

Azriel let a sigh out and dragged his hand down his face, “ It means I am not taking time off from my job to go around asking who wants to come with me on an adventure where I follow some influencer girls around like a lost puppy for a beauty brand launch party.” He answered harshly, “ I’ll lose all credibility, Nesta”

Azriel has only felt fear three times in his life, his line of work didn’t necessarily allow him to feel it more often

When his hands were burned

When he almost died

And now watching Nesta smile like the devil herself standing in front of him.

“ Well good thing you need to do neither of those things,” Nesta said smiling scarily chipper, she uncrossed her arms and put them in her waist. “ Emerie has already agreed and Cassian told me you had already taken the week off so you can do your usual brooding in the mountain.”

Azriel was left speechless.

Then he frowned, “ How did you get Berdara to do it, she is worse than me with time off and that is something.” he asked.

Nesta shrugged smirking, putting her hands in her pockets.

“I guess it’s just one of the many perks of being an awesome lawyer who saves your fucking asses all the goddam time.”

Azirel rolled his eyes, being a bodyguard was a great job and it paid well whoever you were also sued a lot depending on the clients you worked with and how much of an assholes they were

“ Well I might still refuse Nesta,” he said defensively

Nesta smile somehow grew bigger and she pulled her phone out showing it to Azriel. “ Oh have I forgotten to tell you the person I need you to take care of is Elain?” she asked, in her phone a photo from the photoshoot of Elain’s new brand; Elain was dressed in a flower gown surrounded by all types of plants and holding some of her products.

He was left breathless.

Azriel’s first thought, as it always was whenever he saw Elain, was that she looked beautiful. There was a shine to Elain that Azriel had only been able to find in the stars in the night. Her glow was incomparable.

He felt his ears and face grow hot and a blush took over his face.

Fuck.

Nesta laid the trap for him and he fell like the idiot he was.

He cleared his throat and scratched his neck with the other, “ Yes, you forgot that very important detail, Nesta,” he scowled

Nesta laughed, “ Well what can I say, it is fun to toy around with you when it comes to Elain,” she said examining her engagement ring.

“ You don’t have to gloat on my misery Nesta,” he said, a sigh of exhaustion scaping him as he let himself fall on his chair.

“ You can always call her Azirel,” Netsa said rolling her eyes at the stupidity of her future brother-in-law.

“Nesta,” he warned with a serious tone.

“Fuck off,” she responded irritated, “ She broke up with that loser months ago Azriel, you could have easily called her and asked her out and-”

“Nesta respectfully fuck off, it’s none of your business.” he cut her off tired of hearing the same thing from the same people.

His brothers.

His sisters-in-law.

And his three-year-old nephew.

‘So, will you do it yes or no?” Nesta asked irked.

“Of course, I’ll do it, Nesta,” he said exhausted putting his hands on his face.

“ I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said walking out of his office with a smile.

_____________________

“ So what exactly does Nesta have on you to convince you to be doing this?” Azriel asked Emerie as they examined the surrounding area where they were waiting for the car with Elain and her friends for the launch party.

“Not necessarily what but who” she grumbled fixing her glasses and walking towards the car that had arrived, opening the door.

“SUNSHINE!” a small ginger woman exclaimed as she walked out of the car, dressed in a modest teal dress and her straight pin hair loose, a small broach with a moon holding it out of her face. The woman threw herself at Emerie kissing her cheek.

Azriel didn’t know what to do, he froze for a moment and when he was ready to tackle the girl he saw Emerie laugh and hold her by the waist hugging her, she kissed the woman and separated from her turning a more professional stand as she could probably see photographers appear, keeping a discrete hang on the back of her wife

“Azriel, this is my wife, Gwyn Berdara.” Emerie introduced with a smile.

Azriel couldn’t help but smile, “ Oh so this is why you accepted the job?” he asked laughing

“ Oh like the reason you accepted was any better?” Asked Feyre as she climbed out of the car with Nesta.

All the girls laughed as Azriel went red, then panicked flooding him as he looked over at the car but the door was closed, he started to look everywhere for another car, Elain’s car.

“Don’t panic,” Nesta said putting the poor boy out of his misery, Elain and the twins are coming in another car.

Ease flooded his body until he saw a white car approaching and off the car came out Elain.

Beautiful, wonderful, splendid Elain, in a beautiful dress adorned with flowers of all types, but all of a pink and white scheme along side with some vines.

As Elain climbed out of the car, the first person she saw was Azriel, extending a hand to her, Like all those years ago.

“Az,” she said his name in surprise, a whisper only for him to hear but with a huge smile on her face.

He took her hand and smiled back at her, “ Elain” he greeted with the same huge smile.

“I- wha- what are you doing here?” she said still smiling and hugged him, she couldn’t keep her excitement, the last time he had seen him was months ago, and she missed him too much.

Which was a mistake, especially with all the cameras around them.

NEWS FLASH!

Icon Elain Archeron seen at her launch debut with new beau?

Who is this handsome mysterious man?

3276 Likes 298Comments Shares

Purpleunicornc

Okay but the sunshine x sunshine protector tropes

Starwhogazes

It’s the pink-and-black aesthetic for me

Jediemma

Okay but Elain the lovely fawn and a man who looks like her protector? Iconic

Nikethestatue to Jediemma

Like death itself?

Jasmineandshadows

OMG death and the lovely fawn? Iconic

Siren.arts

OKAY they are my new favorite couple!

“Let’s go” he whispered holding her waist and shielding her as much as he could from the flashes to the building. “ Oh and,” he started chuckling a bit. “Nesta asked me to keep you safe.” he answered, “ and I will always look out for you.”

Elain went red to the face but gave him a huge smile. “ I know,” she answered as they entered the building.

Cerridwen and Nuala came out of the car and gathered with the rest of the girls as they saw the scene play before them.

“Ugh he is such an idiot,” said Nesta crossing her arms and looking at them.

“Leave them alone Nesta,” Feyre answered laughing, “ They need time.”

“They are both idiots,” answered Nuala rolling her eyes, “They are the only ones who don’t know they are madly in love with each other.”

“It’s going to be a long week,” Cerridwen answered holding her sister by the shoulders and directing her to the building.

“Yes, it will” Answered Nesta walking with arms intertwined with Gwyn who was giggling.

Emerie shakes her head with a small chuckle and follows everyone inside

#elriel #pro elriel #Elriel fic #bodyguard au #elain archeron #pro elain archeron #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x elain #gwyn berdara #emerie of illyria #emerie acotar #emerie acosf #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #nuala and cerridwen #gwynerie #gwyn x emerie #emerie x gwyn

[noirsfantasy]

On the first day of Christmas...

𝔄 𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔬 ℜ𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Actor!Michael B Jordan x OC!Naomi Samuels

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Fluff

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛ 4.2K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ Returning home for the holidays, 29-year-old successful artist Naomi Samuels from New York finds her trip taking an unexpected turn. Things take an exciting twist when her brother Daniel arrives, accompanied by none other than the renowned actor Michael B. Jordan. As the next few days unfold with this unexpected guest, Naomi's holiday promises to be anything but ordinary. What adventures await in this unexpected reunion?

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ I'm gonna be honest, this story has me really excited. When I tell you I love Christmas, it's real. I want y'all to know that I fully intended this story to sound a bit hallmarky, so please bare with me. It gets good ;)

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

Part 2 Here

The Samuels family's Christmas is always a hit. Family comes from all over down to the small town of Leavenworth, Washington just to gather together for this holiday. This is where my grandmother and mother lives, keeping the roots strong. Although, we haven't really had a big family Christmas since before COVID hit, so this one is bound to be special.

Just a week ago, I completed a project for a high-paying client, affording me the luxury of having the entire week before Christmas off. Usually, I am booked up to my ears at this time, so I am grateful for the vacation. I got to the house late last night, and so far, only a handful of aunts, uncles, and a few younger cousins had arrived. As the sole young adult present, I find myself shouldering the full force of our family's 'charm'.

I wake up early this morning in my old bedroom, starting my day with a warm shower. Once I'm dressed and freshened up, I head downstairs, hearing some chatter. I greet my grandmother, who is on the couch, watching her shows. She is always excited to see me.

"Good morning, Grandmother." I say with joy as I give her a warm hug.

"Oh, my beautiful Mimi." She calls my childhood nickname, her hand reaching out to cup my cheek with a gentle tremor. "You are turning into such a beautiful and remarkable woman. I can't tell you how proud of you I am." Her eyes reflect pure love, and I can't help but return her smile. The connection between my grandmother and me is unique, given that I am her first granddaughter.

"Thank you, Grandmother. I'm so happy that I could get to come see you. I know I haven't been around as much since I moved to New York for work," I admit, a twinge of guilt behind my words.

"Don't you worry about that, dear. You're here now, and every moment with my grandbaby is a blessing," she reassures me warmly. "I think your mom and aunts are in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Why don't you go in and see how you can help?" She suggests.

With a nod, I rise from the couch, placing a tender kiss on her cheek before making my way into the kitchen. As I enter, the lively banter of my mom and aunts fills the air, mid-gossip in the midst of breakfast preparations. I'm embraced by the scent of bacon and brewing of coffee. The women pause their gossip for a moment, shifting their attention to me.

"Well, look who decided to get up bright and early!" My mom exclaims, giving me a quick embrace. "Here, you take over the bacon for me. I need to get started on the pancakes," she adds, directing me to her spot at the stove. My aunts greet me with a cheerful "good morning" before seamlessly resuming their conversation with my mother.

The kitchen was bustling with activity, filled with the savory aroma of the many dishes being cooked. The Auntie's hands are kept busy as they catch up on the latest gossip and I snicker to myself as I focus on my task. The house starts to wake up as I hear my little cousins stomping down the stairs, their childish giggles over the chatter of the rest of the family.

I'm lost in my thoughts when my attention is abruptly diverted by an unexpected question from Aunt Pat, who's currently cooking the eggs.

"So, Naomi, you got a man yet?" The other ladies in the kitchen fix their gaze on me, awaiting my response. I stammer for a moment but then decide to keep it light.

“Well, no. I’m not really focused on that right now,” I reply with a shrug, hoping they’ll drop The subject. They don’t, of course.

“Come on now. You not getting any younger.” Adds my aunt Tina. My mom gives them a disapproving look as she closes the fridge.

“Y’all, leave my baby alone. It is too early for this.” Mom defends, but they roll their eyes.

“We’re just chatting, Angie. Besides, don’t you want some grandbabies?” Tina asks, Aunt Pat nodding in agreement.

"Naomi can wait for the right man as long as she needs. Better that than popping out babies without a ring," my mom subtly throws shade, her lips pursed. Aunt Pat raises an eyebrow.

“You tryna say sumn, Ang? Cus' whoever I think you're talking about has definitely gotten married since.” She says matter of factly. My mom ignores her.

"And Tina, don't start on Mimi, what about Ashanti? She still don't got a man either. And she 'bout the same age as Naomi." My mom adds.

"My Ashanti is a famous and successful model. She is busy building her life right now and taking care of her business. Besides, she's seeing someone," Aunt Tina states, turning her nose up. Sensing that my mom is about to say something else, I decide to intervene.

"Let's all calm down. I don't have a man, so what? It's not the end of the world. And, for the record, I have a successful career as well," I declare, raising my hands in defense. Aunt Tina's comment lingers in the air like a passing storm, briefly unsettling the familial calm.

"Just saying, you're almost thirty. Time to settle down. And I'd hardly call those cute little drawings you do a successful career," she persists, earning a disapproving look from my mother. I clench my jaw, determined not to let the remark sting.

"But we'll drop it," Aunt Tina announces, attempting to change the subject. The kitchen regains its lively atmosphere as they return to their culinary duties. My mother shoots me an apologetic glance, understanding the delicate nature of the topic, but I reassure her with a soft smile. I've grown accustomed to my family's concerns about my love life, even if their ideas of success differ from mine.

"Where is Teresa, anyways? And James? I saw the kids last night, but I haven't seen them." I ask, looking at my Aunt Pat.

"Oh, they're upstairs sleep. They really got a handful with them kids." She explains, shaking her head. I laugh a bit.

"Well, it seems like I'm not the only one who needed this vacation. Hopefully we will all get to relax." I let out a sigh.

"Well, don't you worry, none. Ashanti will be here any moment! I know y'all always have a good time together." Aunt Tina says. I look at her out of the side of my eyes and give a fake smile.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll have lots of fun." I respond, trying to hide the sarcasm in my voice. As they chop, stir, and laugh, I find myself wondering what's to come of this trip. My thoughts go back to what my aunts said about my love life.

Even though I'm almost thirty, I've never been one to go searching for a man, much less settle for less than I deserve. My art, my "cute little drawings," as Aunt Tina put it, is not just a hobby—it's my passion. And while it may not fit the conventional definition of success in their eyes, it brings me fulfillment and joy. And I want that when it comes to love as well.

As I plate the last pieces of bacon and turn away from the stove, my phone rings. It’s my brother Daniel.

“Hey Danny.” I greet as I walk out the kitchen.

“Naomi! You already at mamas?” He asks me.

"Yeah, flew in last night. We're about to have breakfast," I reply.

"Bet, well, I'm on my way there, about nine hours out. Been on the road for a while. Just calling to let you know I'm bringing a guest." My interest piques, and I raise my eyebrows.

“Oh? Is it a girl?” I tease. I can almost feel him rolling his eyes at me.

“No, it’s not. It’s one of my colleagues who needs a place to be for Christmas, so I offered to let him come.” Daniel explains.

“Oh, okay. Just a heads up, the aunties are already in my business so make sure you got your shit together.” I share a laugh with him and, over the sounds of the road in the background, I can barely make out a second laugh. I choose to ignore it.

“Who knows, maybe my guest can help you get your shit together if you, uh, catch my drift.” He teases. I roll my eyes in return and give a sarcastic laugh.

“This is not about to be you tryna hook me up with one of your friends again. We both know how that ended up last time.”

“I know, I know. Don’t worry, it’ll be none of that, I promise. But don’t tell anyone I’m bringing someone. I want it to be a surprise.” He tells me.

"Sure, secret's safe with me," I respond, curious as to who he could be bringing.

"Alright, I'll catch you when I get home. Hopefully, everyone will still be up." He chuckles and I laugh along as well.

"Yeah, we'll see. Drive safe. See you when you get here." I say, before ending the call. As I hang up with Daniel, I can't help but wonder about the mysterious guest he's bringing. Returning to the kitchen, I start setting up the table as the delightful aroma of breakfast fills the air. Yet, my thoughts persistently drift back to the impending surprise.

A rhythmic knock echoes through the house coming from the front door, which promptly swings open.

"I'm hereeeee!" All of us in the kitchen pause to glance toward the entrance as my cousin, Ashanti, strides in. Draped in a fur coat and chic heeled boots, she's come with numerous bags.

Smiles light up the room, and everyone rushes to welcome her with hearty hugs. I hug her as well, but it's a bit stiff. Shanti and I grew up together and we used to be very close. But somewhere along the line, she started competing with me and it put a rift between us.

Amidst the flurry of greetings, I catch a glimpse of Ashanti's perfectly styled hair and the air of confidence she exudes. Despite the awkwardness between us, I manage a genuine smile, hoping that the holiday spirit will bridge the gap that has quietly settled over the years.

As the family gathers around, Ashanti unveils a cascade of presents from her bags. "Gifts for everyone!" she announces, and the room erupts with excitement. The children eagerly approach, but she urges them to wait their turn. The tension between us momentarily fades as the joy of the holiday season takes center stage. The gifts she gives are lavish and luxurious. As everyone gets their gifts, she saves the last one for me.

"And last, but certainly not least, this is for you, Naomi." Ashanti hands me a neatly wrapped gift. I smile and open it, eager to see what is inside. While I had no specific expectations, what I got is far from what I had expected. As I tear away the paper, I find myself holding what appears to be a Dollar Tree sketchbook, lacking the quality I might have hoped for.

"Oh, a sketchbook..." I attempt to conceal my disappointment, realizing she intentionally chose a less-than-impressive gift.

"No need for thanks! I just knew you'd love it. You know, with your little artsy thing you got going on. I figured it would be a perfect gift," she says, offering a feigned smile and a hug. Despite having plenty of similar sketchbooks, I decide not to grant her any satisfaction, accepting the gift graciously.

The room is still buzzing with the cheer of the holiday festivities, and as I hold the seemingly ordinary sketchbook, I take a deep breath, reminding myself that the value lies in the gesture rather than the material itself.

I manage a polite smile, masking any traces of disappointment, and reply, "Thank you, Ashanti. It's thoughtful." She beams, seemingly content with her choice of gift, and the tension between us lingers beneath the surface.

The following hours whirl by in a flurry of activity. I spend most of the day hanging out with my younger cousins, keeping them occupied while everyone else relaxes. It's a great feeling to be home and around my family once again, no matter how old I get.

There are a couple gifts beneath the tree and the fireplace blazes brightly. Grandmother, nestled in her recliner by the fireplace, skillfully crochets a blanket and my uncles huddle around the TV to watch a football game. Mom has just set out hot chocolate for the kids, while the aunties are talking with each other in the study. Ashanti is upstairs, probably on her phone or something. Meanwhile, I find myself on the couch, sketch pad in hand, allowing my creativity to flow.

The sun has dipped below the horizon and a flurry of snow blankets the world outside. I glance toward the window, crossing my fingers that the roads won't freeze over and that Daniel and his mystery guest will arrive soon. The children steal the TV, watching some cartoons while a few of my uncles head onto the porch for a smoke. This calm is one I've longed for over the years—it gives me a sense of nostalgia, sending me back to the carefree days of my childhood.

My cousin, Teresa, who was asleep all day, comes downstairs and sits beside me. I smile as I look up from my sketches at her.

"Hey, cuz!" She says, giving me a hug.

"Hey, you slept good?" I ask, giggling a bit.

"Girl, yes, it was MUCH needed. You really don't understand how much you miss naps until you have children." She sighs heavily and I nod sympathetically.

"Yeah, I figured when I saw James come down here and not you, you were still getting your rest." I say teasingly. Teresa rolls her eyes.

"Hey, those beds are comfortable." She retorts, defending herself.

"Well, at least now you get a break, right? You got some help." Teresa sits back and nods.

"I'm so glad to just be here. It's been a while since we were able to take a trip like this."

"Something tells me that this trip is gonna be one to remember." I say, mostly to myself.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to wait and see." Teresa says, before standing up and heading to the kitchen.

As time goes by, I hear the doorbell ring again. I remain seated, engrossed in my drawing. Mom answers and her sudden loud exclamation echoes through the house as she lets the visitors in. Intrigued, I look up from my sketches, wondering who it could be. I get up and walk over to the door, first seeing my big brother standing there. He's smiling widely as he sees the shocked look on Mom's face. However, as I approach, I see who she's really screaming about.

There, standing beside Daniel on the doorstep is none other than famous actor Michael B. Jordan. My jaw drops in astonishment as I can't believe my eyes.

"Danny, what is this? You didn't tell me you were bringing a guest!" She exclaims, the unspoken emphasis being, 'You didn't tell me that you were bringing Michael B. Jordan!'

"Just thought I'd surprise you, Ma. And Michael, here, didn't have anywhere to stay for Christmas. So I invited him to stay with us for the week. Is that alright?" He asks, sporting a sheepish grin. My mother stammers for a moment, caught off guard by this surprise. She glances at Michael, who presents her a giftwrapped bottle of expensive-looking wine, flashing that gorgeous smile of his. Still in shock, she stammers as he hands her the gift.

"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Samuels. I hope I'm not intruding too much." He gives her a hug, giving her a squeeze. My mother, still processing the surprise, hugs him back, her eyes gleaming with disbelief.

"Oh, you're not intruding at all! Well, welcome to our home, Michael!" She starts as he lets go of her and stands in the doorway. "We're honored to have you join us for Christmas."

"The honor is all mine." He responds. By now, news of Michael's arrival has spread through the house. Danny brings him in, brushing snow off of himself, and I catch his eye. He winks at me knowingly as our family rushes to greet Michael and take pictures. I smile and shake my head at Daniel. It seems his "colleague" was quite the understatement. My little cousins jump excitedly at meeting the man who played Killmonger and my aunties and uncles are chatting to him loudly, talking over one another.

I watch all the commotion with a smile, when I lock eyes with Michael. He looks as if he is gonna approach me, but he's stopped by Ashanti.

"Hi, my name is Ashanti! You look like you need a drink." She says, before grabbing his arm and leading him away from the lively group. I suppress a sigh of awkward disappointment as she shoots me a mischievous glance over her shoulder. Just then, Daniel drapes an arm around my shoulder, steering me toward the study for a chat.

"Daniel!" I exclaim in a hushed tone as a cheeky grin plays on his face. He simply shrugs, not making a response. "Daniel!" I repeat, this time playfully socking him in the arm with an excited smile on my face.

"Surprise?" He offers, having anticipated my reaction.

"How the hell did you manage to get Michael Bakari Jordan to come to the Samuels household?!" I try to contain my excitement, but my words come out with an unintentional squeal. He laughs, feigning pain as he clutches his arm.

"It's like I said. He didn't have anywhere to be for Christmas. I didn't tell y'all, but this last project I was working on was with Michael and it was set to go into the Christmas holiday. Luckily, we ended up finishing early. Michael had tried to plan ahead and sent is parents and siblings on a Christmas cruise so they'd still have a good time. Well, during the project, Michael and I talked frequently and he mentioned not having anywhere to go, so I invited him to come here." He explains. I'm still in disbelief.

"This is insane. I never expected you to actually bring him. And he's staying until Christmas?"

"Yep, so he gets the full Samuels family experience for the holidays. But, you should go out and meet him yourself, Mimi. Knowing Ashanti, she's probably talking his ear off by now." He pats my shoulder, and I take a deep breath before stepping out of the study.

My heart is racing in my chest as I walk towards the kitchen. I've been a fan of his for the longest and now he's in my house. I'm trying to think of what I'd say to him. I find myself, instead of going to meet Michael, pacing around the dining room away from everyone else. I'm not usually this nervous or shy. But something about this man just makes me go crazy.

"Come on, Naomi," I say to myself, rubbing my palms on my jeans. I pace a bit more before I shake my head at my ridiculousness. With another deep breath, I head out of the dining room and towards the kitchen once more. There Michael and Ashanti are sitting at the bar, engaged in a conversation. It looks as if Ashanti is just talking about herself and her many accomplishments while showing him her photos. As I get closer, Michael glances over and notices me, giving me that famous smile again.

"Hey, Michael..." I start, and he watches me, waiting to hear what I'm gonna say. I decide to just go for it. "Mind if I steal you away for a bit?" I bite my lip, avoiding Ashanti's eyes as she glares at me. The corners of Michael's mouth turn up as the sound of my voice reaches him.

"Well, actually, Nao-"

"Yeah, I don't mind." He interrupts Ashanti as he stands, grabbing his glass . "Thanks for the drink, Ashanti." He says, but she rolls her eyes as she watches us leave. We make our way to the upstairs common area and sit on the couch. Michael sits a bit close to me, draping his arm along the back of the couch as he gets comfortable.

"You know, I was just looking for an excuse to take a break from her," He says, leaning into me. "Thanks for rescuing me." I laugh a bit at his words.

"Well, I'm happy to help. I'm always willing to answer the call of a damsel in distress." I joke, trying to break the ice. He chuckles a bit.

"It looked that bad, huh?" He replies and I nod, overexaggerating it a bit. "Well, then I guess that makes you my knight in shining armor." He grins charmingly and I have to stop myself from melting.

"Ah, where are my manners. I'm Naomi, Daniel's sister. I would've introduced myself sooner, but you seemed a bit busy." I laugh nervously, struggling to sit still under his gaze.

"So you're this troublesome Mimi I've heard so much about?" Michael questions and I freeze, blushing in embarrassment. There's no way Daniel really told him about my nickname. I regain my composure and clear my throat.

"First of all, I don't know where this troublesome idea of me came from, cuz it's definitely not true." I retort, playfully turning my nose up.

Michael grins, his eyes filled with amusement. "Hmm, I don't know, Daniel talks about you quite a bit and based on his stories, you seem pretty troublesome to me." He leans back, a playful glint in his eyes as he observes my reaction. "But don't worry, I'm all for a bit of trouble."

I chuckle, feeling a bit more at ease with his easygoing demeanor. "Well, if that's the case, I hope you're ready for the full Samuels family experience. We're a handful, but it's all in good fun."

"So, Naomi," Michael begins, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, "Aside from being a troublemaker, Daniel tells me you're an artist."

I playfully roll my eyes at the "troublemaker" label. "Oh, yes, it's my favorite thing to do. I love to draw, paint, you name it."

"What would you say inspires you?" He asks, his expression showing genuine curiosity.

"I just feel like art is my way of keeping some semblance of sanity in this chaotic world, you know what I mean?" I explain.

"Yes, I know exactly what you mean." He says, nodding his head. "It must be a nice escape from the chaos of the world to be able to express yourself through art. I love listening to music; it helps me find clarity when my thoughts get too messy."

"I completely get that. And it's just a plus that I get to do it for a living." I say with a content smile.

"So being an artist is your full-time job?" he questions, his tone laced with intrigue.

"Yeah, at first it was a hobby, but it got so successful that I was able to quit my other job and do it full-time."

"An artist, huh? Anything I might've seen?" he asks, genuinely interested. I shrug casually.

"Possibly. I do commissions for all types of people, I've got a few pieces in the Brooklyn Museum, I also run an art page on Instagram, so maybe you've seen some of my art." I pull out my phone and show him my page. He takes the phone from my hands, scrolling and raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"These are amazing," he says quietly, clearly impressed. "Do you draw from real life often? It's so realistic and…detailed" He continues, running his fingers along my phone screen lightly.

"I'm experimenting with some other media forms, but yeah, all of these I painted from real life. Some of them even went for really high prices. My most recent piece went for $3,000. But I've been working on that one for months. It was a commission for the governor of New York."

"Wow! It's amazing. You got some serious talent girl!" He praises, giving me a high five. I laugh, blushing a bit as he compliments me. He hands me my phone back and pulls his out, going to my account on his Instagram and following it. It takes everything within me not to scream.

"Thank you. Art is just a huge passion for me. I love to make other people happy with it as well." I admit. Michael notices me blushing when it sinks in he just followed my account.

"Well, you've got a new fan." He says with a sly grin, leaning against my shoulder. "I might have to use your services sometime." He says, his gaze lingering on mine.

"Yeah, I mean, I'm down to make anything you'd like." I blurt out, before realizing what I'd just said. "I... didn't mean it like that." I let out a sheepish laugh and clasp my hands together. Michael laughs as well, but he really is just enjoying himself.

"How about you make a portrait of me?" He suggests, a hint of playfulness in his tone.

"When? Right now?"

"I'll leave it up to you. We got the next couple days." He reminds me with a wink.

"Okay, but you'll have to be on your A-game this whole week. Are you up for the challenge?" I question, matching his tone.

Michael leans in, his voice low and teasing. "I'm always up for a challenge, especially if it involves spending more time with someone as captivating as you."

I feel a flush of warmth, and I playfully roll my eyes. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Jordan."

He grins, unfazed. "Is that a promise, Ms. Samuels?"

"Absolutely," I reply, laughing a bit and enjoying our banter. Even though we've just met, it feels like we've been friends for a while. Michael takes note of the easy chemistry that we have, and that chemistry sets the tone for a vacation filled with shared moments and the promise of a memorable Christmas.

"Any other hidden talents I should know about, Naomi?" He questions me. Somewhere in our conversation, we've gravitated so close on the couch that there's no space between us. Yet, the proximity feels comfortable now, and any initial nervousness has dissipated.

"Well, you'll have to find that out, won't you?" I respond with a sly smirk.

"Oh, she wants to be mysterious now?" Michael chuckles, his dimples showing as he smiles at me.

"She does indeed. As you said, we've got these next few days. You'll just have to see for yourself," I reply, glancing at the clock to realize how late it has gotten. Most of the children have already fallen asleep, and the aunts and uncles have retired to their rooms. It appears that the family is settling down for the night. Michael and I exchange glances, acknowledging the quieting atmosphere around us.

"I guess it's time for us to call it a night," Michael suggests, a yawn coming from him. I nod in agreement, feeling a sense of contentment in the air.

"Yeah, it's getting late. Goodnight, Michael." I say, rising from the couch. Michael follows my actions and stands up.

"Goodnight, Naomi." He pulls me into a brief hug, and I reciprocate, my arms instinctively wrapping around his waist. After a moment, we separate, and I turn to make my way to my room.

"Uh..." Michael utters softly. "Which way is the guest room?" He asks. I smile and chuckle.

"It's down the hall, second door on the left," I reply, pointing him in the direction.

"Ah, okay, goodnight again." He says, before walking towards his room.

"Goodnight," I say softly, heading into my bedroom and getting ready for bed. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stare for a moment. Out of nowhere, I break out into a victory dance and squeal silently. I still cannot believe that Michael B Jordan is at my house, or that he's going to be staying here for a week, or that he might even like me! I take a deep breath and compose myself once more, worried I might wake someone.

As I settle into bed, the tranquility of the night wraps around me like a warm blanket. Reflecting on the unexpected turns of this day, I realize exactly how crazy this whole day has been. I can only hope that this isn't a dream. With a contented sigh, I drift off to sleep, eagerly anticipating the things to come these next few days.

To Be Continued...

#fluff #michael b jordan #michael b jordan x reader #Black reader #black reader fluff #Black oc #oc x character #noirsfantasy #12 days of christmas #christmas

[architect-2015]

For the world to see.

Genevieve Heyman and Roman Reigns are the couple everyone wants to be.

Married in 2014, the couple have had a non stop life since, a reality TV show, a first set a triplets: Koa, Layla and Elle.

You’d think the couple would stop having children after that, Joe being on the rise to be the top dog in the WWE having a full time schedule and Genevieve being the head of creative backstage, the husband and wife duo are very busy people so it came with a shock that Genny was pregnant again, with another set of triplets!

Aveline, Levi and Max were born in 2019, the boys Koa, Levi and Max were inseparable, independent and the wildest kids you would ever meet. Whilst the girls Layla, Elle and Aveline were complete daddy’s girls.

The family showcased a lot of their home and family life in a reality TV show called Behind the curtain.

The show had given an opportunity to show the world how much the Anoa’i family has grown since the debut of the Wild Samoans: Afa and Sika.

————

“Good morning!”

The episode starts with Genevieve, Levi resting on her hip, descending the stairs. Joe is stood over in the kitchen, cooking up his famous blueberry pancakes for the children.

“Mum, dad said that Uncle Jon and Auntie Trin are coming today!” a very giddy Elle ran up to her mothers frame, wrapping her arms around Genny’s waist.

“They are baby, so that means you’ve all got to go get changed out of your pyjamas. Aveline, mummy will come help you with your hair once she’s spoken with daddy.”

With that the 35 year old women sends her children up the stairs.

Walking over to the stove, Viv stands behind her husband, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his broad back.

A sigh leaves her lips, Joe immediately notices this. Turning he takes his wife face between his hands.

“What’s wrong baby girl?”

“Hmm, I’m just feeling a bit off. Threw up when I woke up. I think it’s because works a bit stressful right now. Wrestlemania is coming up so i’m trying to work out all the final details with storylines.”

Joe nods in understanding, Wrestlemania is a stressful time for everyone talent and crew alike. Genevieve has a tendency to push herself too hard to create the perfect show.

“Well mama, how about me and Jon take the kids out and you and Trin can have a chill girls day, see if that helps you feel any better.”

“That’s sounds wonderful, thank you.” Ending the conversation with a kiss, Genevieve walks upstairs to go tend to her youngest daughters wild hair. Joe turns back to the stove to finish breakfast.

————

Trinity and Genevieve are sat on the lounge chairs in the garden of Joe and Gen’s Tampa home.

“Girl are you okay, Joe said you haven’t been well?” Trinity question the women across from her.

“I’m just not feeling like myself, i feel so like sluggish and just tired. I’ve been throwing up and i’m just so bloated. It’s really not what i needed this week.”

This week was crucial for Viv, she had to make Wrestlemania perfect.

“Genny, when was the last time you were on your period?”

Genevieve’s face instantly pales, she was late.

“Oh shit Trin, i’m late.”

————

“Obviously me and Joe are already parents, and it’s the best thing in the entire world. Becoming a mother has made me a better women in many ways, but already having two sets of triplets and having the work schedule like me and Joe have can prove difficult. I’m grateful for my friends and family who help out with babysitting when needed. If i am pregnant i’m just hoping it’s not more triplets!”

————

A pregnancy test sits face down in Gen’s bathroom that is currently occupied by Trinity. Having had the trust of revealing the result to an anxious Genevieve.

An alarm rings out through the bedroom indicating the time to wait is over, in one swift movement Trinity flips over the rest.

A light gasp exits her mouth followed by one sentence.

“Mama, congratulations you’re pregnant.”

“Of course i’m happy to be pregnant again, and no matter how many children i have the feeling of overwhelming joy is indescribable. I know Joe will be ecstatic when i tell him the news.”

————

It’s been a week since Genevieve found out she would introducing a new life to this world, to their family and she was yet to tell Joe.

A romantic dinner was set up with the intention of being the location of the reveal. Joseph sat across from his beloved wife, a steady conversation drifted between the couple.

“Baby i have something to tell you.” Genevieve muttered to her spouse. No matter how many pregnancies she has had, sharing the news always made her nervous.

“What’s wrong baby girl? are you okay?”

“Joe i’m fine, i’m really happy in fact. Handsome, you’re gonna be a dad to another little baby” She shyly placed the test in the table.

Joseph quickly stood up and rounded the table to take his wife into his arms.

“Baby i swear down if it’s another set of triplets i’m gonna murder you” was the phrase he was met by, slightly muffled by his shirt, he sensed the humour in the statement.

“Baby girl, we’ll have to wait and see.”

————

The pregnancy of Genevieve Anoa’i has been going fantastic, she was very familiar with the feeling of morning sickness and her loving husband was very familiar with how to help.

Revealing the news to Paul was a highlight, the short man burst into tears. Paul and the Anoa’i family had a very close bond even before the romance of Geni and Joe so the pride he felt in a new addition was worth the tears.

Many backstage moments were showcased on the show, the twins arguing over who the best uncle would be, Trinity convincing Geni the baby should have a mini ‘feel the glow’ outfit.

Hunter and Stephanie were such inspirational characters in Genevieves life so to find out baby Anoa’i would be named in honour of them caused Steph to become a blubbering mess!

————

“Baby Anoa’i will be named after both Stephane and Paul/ Hunter. Since i joined this company they have truly helped me in many ways and trusted my ideas to help further the WWE and i’m truly grateful.”

“You say the baby will be named after both of them? so a first name and a possible middle name?”

“Oh no, both individual names.”

Geni’s light chuckle is what closes out the confessional.

——

“Good afternoon guys, my name is Doctor Hemp and i’m just gonna check on little baby if that’s okay?”

The segment starts out with the Anoa’i’s in a hospital room, a check up for the mum and the baby. A cold gel is applied to the pregnant women’s belly and the doctor begins the ultrasound.

“Oh my! would you look at that! you’ve got a healthy set of twins! how exciting!”

Genevieve’s head slowly turn towards her husband who is wearing a sheepish smile, it had been an ongoing conversation between the couple. No More Triplets and whilst twins is two not three Joe knows what she is thinking.

“Joe baby i love you, but twins. You and your family genes for multiples is killing me here.” He voice hold a tone of humour so Joe and more importantly the nurse knows she’s happy with the news.

Joes hand strokes his wife’s hair, his eyes glued to the little screen. Two little babies.

“At least it not more triplets.” That’s all that leaves Joes mouth seeing as he’s quite chocked up, he loves being a father, he gets to be a father to two more little kids.

A gentle laugh echos throughout the hospital room.

————————

Delia Stephanie Anoa’i and Jasper Paul Anoa’i were born on the 14th of July 2022.

The children are loved endlessly throughout the backstage area by many. The Anoa’i children will continue to be a part of the great Samoan Dynasty with many of Joe and Gen’s children following in their father’s footsteps.

With a family of the size of theirs, even with its high and lows, there will never be a shortage of love.

@bakugoumarianawrites

Okay i know this is shit but i had writer block for the longest amount of time and had no idea how to finish this. Feel free to use the request to write your own version!

#wwe x reader #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x reader #wwe imagine #roman reigns fic

[onceuponastory]

homeward bound - bucky barnes x reader

Plot: Y/N and Bucky have finally managed to get some time off together, and Bucky has the perfect idea - to bring her back to Brooklyn and show her all his favourite places when he was growing up. Pairing: Pilot!Bucky Barnes x FlightAttendant!Female!Reader Warnings: A few mentions of anxiety, and a small mention of nausea. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: Did anyone miss Pilot!Bucky? I sure did, so decided he should come back. If you haven’t read the other parts in this AU, here’s one, two and three. Obligatory I am not a pilot or flight attendant, although I do watch a lot of Air Crash Investigation. Also, well done if you recognise the significance of the numbers in Bucky’s callsign ;) Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

“This food is amazing. Thanks for bringing me here, Buck.” Y/N moans happily, leaning back in her seat. Bucky watches her, grinning. 

“I told you. New York pizza is the best.” 

As they tuck into another slice, Y/N once again feels incredibly grateful that she and Bucky finally have some time to spend together. With both of them working in the jobs they do, finding time off is hard enough, let alone together. Thankfully, their schedules have finally lined up, and they have an entire week off together. Ideally, Y/N would want more time with him, but she’s not about to complain about finally getting to spend some downtime with her gorgeous pilot boyfriend. And this time, Bucky brought her to Brooklyn so she could meet his mother. At first, Y/N was nervous and kept fidgeting with her hair and her outfit. Everything that didn’t seem perfect enough was under scrutiny. Bucky means a lot to her, and she knows just how close he is to his mother, so she knew she had to make a good impression.

“Love, it’s okay.” Bucky smiled, squeezing her hand. “You look gorgeous. She’s going to love you just as much as I do.” His words and the kiss he pressed to her cheek eased her worries for a few precious moments, as did her assertion that Bucky wouldn’t bring her to meet his mother if he wasn’t sure about this relationship, or about her. Yet as the front door opened, the nerves hit Y/N once more, like a bucket of cold water being thrown over her.

“Hey Ma.” Bucky grinned, pulling her into a hug. But before Y/N could even say more than a hello, Winifred Barnes turned to her, grinning. Immediately, she greeted her with a hug, and an insistence to:

“Just call me Winnie, sweetheart.” She smelled like fresh baking and lavender, a comforting, homely scent. And right away, Y/N felt her anxiety start to fade away.

“It’s wonderful to meet you Winif-Winnie.” Y/N stammered, slightly crushed in her hug. But the hug wasn’t uncomfortable. It was filled with love and happiness, which Bucky must’ve had every day when he was growing up. It must’ve been a life of warmth, love, and laughter. Of fresh baking on the table every day, and fresh flowers throughout the house. Of a mother who loves you and your friends like her own.

No wonder he’s such a wonderful person.

“Likewise, sweetheart. Now, let me get a good look at you.” A pair of blue eyes that perfectly match Bucky’s blue hues, stared back at her. “James.” She tutted, her tone causing Bucky’s eyes to widen. “You never told me she was so beautiful!” Y/N gasped, her brow raised.

“You never told me your name was James.” She chuckled as Bucky’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Oh, there’s a lot you don’t know about him, hun.” Winnie took her arm, leading her gently towards the house. “But we have all week to talk about it.” 

“Ma!” Bucky called, but they were both too busy laughing to pay any attention.

Since then, Bucky’s taken her on a whistle-stop tour of all the places he frequented as he was growing up in Brooklyn. The park he used to play in as a kid, his high school, the late night coffee shops he frequented as he was studying for his pilots exams, and the restaurant they’re in now… everything important to Bucky’s life is now part of hers too. She’s a part of his life now.

And that means the world to her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next day, however, Bucky promises to take her to the most special place of all. The entire drive there, he refuses to even give her a hint about where he was taking her. At first, she thought he was taking her to Coney Island, given how much he spoke about going there as a kid and riding the rollercoaster so much with his friends that he felt nauseous. Although, for a moment she wondered why that would be his choice above the other things Bucky showed her, but she definitely wasn’t going to judge him for that. Especially considering how she herself always tries to go to a Disney Park whenever they’re near one on their travels. 

She watches Bucky driving through the streets he grew up on, pointing out places and people. Once more, the familiar feeling of love settles in her stomach. He’s accompanied her on the last few Disney trips she’s been on now, and despite how they’ve been dating for almost two years by this point, she still can’t believe just how lucky she is to be dating him. Especially considering the time it took them to admit their feelings to each other. But now, they get to do the big things like taking trips together (including ones outside of work), and looking for places to live together. And there’s the little things too, like buying groceries together, waking up next to him, or getting a text from him every morning and every night, without fail, even if they’re on opposite ends of the world from each other.

And honestly, doing the little things she does with Bucky is her favourite thing in the world.

“So… is it an art gallery or something?” She asks as he drives past the turnoff for Coney Island.

“Nope. Not even close.” Bucky chuckles. Soon, Y/N notices he’s taking her out of the city, and she raises a brow. 

“Where the hell are we going?”

Yet, Bucky still doesn’t say anything.

“Come on, you’re not gonna give me one hint?” She pleads, even considering batting her eyelashes and pouting in the hopes it works on him. After all… it has before.

“No. I told you, it’s a surprise. And besides, we’re almost there.”

Soon, Bucky turns off the main road and down a smaller, narrower one. Once they reach the end of the road, he parks the car beside a large building. Well, somewhere that looks more like a warehouse than a building. 

“It’s an airfield.” Y/N murmurs, reading off the sign.

“The same one I trained at all those years ago before I joined the big leagues. I thought….” Bucky trails off, the excitement clear on his face. “I could take you flying!” Y/N chuckles.

“Bucky, you take me flying almost every day. It’s kinda part of our job, remember?” Yet, a small part of her almost hoped his surprise wouldn’t be related to flying, and would be something else that Bucky loves. Maybe she’d even learn something new about him. But she’s not disappointed by the surprise. Flying is a big part of Bucky’s life, of both of their lives. Of course he’d take her here, to the place where it all began. And besides, if he hadn’t learnt to fly, she would never have met him, or be here now, sharing stories about his life growing up and feeling closer to him.

“Not like that.” He smirks. “I mean, like this.” Once they’re out of the car, he leads her round the corner, gesturing to a small Cessna parked on the tarmac. Well, it’s not that small, but it is compared to the jumbo jets Bucky flies normally. She’s never been in such a small plane before, yet the fact Bucky is going to be at the controls is making her feel a lot calmer about it. “You like it?” She nods. “Well, it’s ours for the afternoon.” After completing the pre-flight checks, he opens the door for her, helping her inside and making sure she’s buckled in correctly before doing the same. 

“B45107.” He says over the headset. “Ready for taxi.” As she watches him at work, doing what he knows best, Y/N can’t stop smiling. Even though she’s dating the best pilot at the airline, Y/N rarely gets the chance to see him working up close, doing everything it takes to get people into the air and back onto the ground safely. She loves this, getting to see him work, seeing his professional side. 

Bucky lines up at the end of the runway, ready to begin takeoff. Immediately, Y/N grins, feeling the familiar excitement in her stomach once more. As the plane hurtles down the runway, the speed pushing them back into their seats, Y/N has never felt so alive, so exhilarated than she does in that moment. Once they’re in the air, she gazes out over the horizon. The sky is so clear and blue that she can see for miles. 

“Is that the Statue of Liberty?” She asks, pointing at a small dot in the horizon.

“Yup. And you’ll see the Brooklyn Bridge soon.” Bucky smiles, watching her look out of the window, as excited as a kid in a candy shop.

“It’s beautiful up here.” 

“I’ve seen more beautiful things.” Bucky shrugs. But as she turns back to him, ready to ask what could possibly be more beautiful than this, Y/N realises he’s staring at her. A deep heat settles on her cheeks, and she smiles. When Bucky reaches cruising altitude and finally gets a free moment, she leans over, kissing his cheek.

“What was that for?” 

“Because I love you.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She and Bucky stay up in the air for the rest of the afternoon, pointing out parts of the skyline to each other and enjoying each other’s company. Yet, as the sun sets, colouring the sky with streaks of red, orange and pink, it’s time for them to come back down. Although she’s had a wonderful time, Y/N can’t help but feel a little disappointed at having to come back. Ideally, she’d have loved to have seen the entire sunset, and maybe even the moon and stars.

Of course, Bucky notices her disappointment right away. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I was just having a lot of fun, that’s all. Sad it’s over.” Yet, Bucky smiles knowingly.

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not over yet.” He opens the back of his car, pulling out some blankets and pillows. “I was thinking we could grab some food and watch the sunset together. I have a spot I used to go to when I wanted to get away from it all, which... turned out to be a lot of times actually. But now I’m so much happier than I ever was. I have my dream career, and my dream girl.” Y/N smiles, her stomach fluttering. She feels so lucky to be part of Bucky’s life, to see the places that are most important to him. “And… I’d like to show you it.” Y/N leans in, kissing him softly.

“That sounds perfect.” She smiles.

And for the rest of the night, Y/N and Bucky lay curled up together under a mound of pillows and blankets, watching as the stars and moon come out, each happy in each other’s company and warm embrace.

“I love you.” Bucky whispers, kissing her temple. “So much.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Please follow @onceuponastory-library​ and turn on notifications to be notified when I next post!

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #Bucky Barnes x female reader #pilot!bucky barnes #bucky x Female Reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fanfiction #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

[wildemaven]

A Cut Above

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Hairstylist!Reader

WC: 2680

Warnings: T; Mentions of food, divorce, lots of pining and fluff otherwise.

A/N: I wanted to write a Hairstylist!Reader story a few years ago, but l wasn’t feeling super confident about my writing and just never got around to it. In the last few months I’ve had this urge to get back behind the chair again, which is what sparked this fic. Still haven’t decided if I will get back into doing hair as of yet, but I can enjoy writing about it. This is not beta’d and hope it reads well cause I’ve been run low sleep. Enjoy!!

Masterlist / Series Masterlist / Next

“You done for the day?”

The question pulls you from your thinking. It’s an organized chaos of mental notes streaming through your subconscious.

“I wish. I have one more then I’m done. It’s a new client too. So I’ll be a bit longer.”

“Color?”

“No, thank god! I don’t think my feet can take another 2 to 3 hours more.” The day was filled with back to back clients— a typical Saturday in the salon. Your clients who worked long hours, were always filling up your Saturdays. “Just a cut. Benny made the appointment for him, said his friend was in need of a change— very vague about it”

“Mmm.. Benny.”

“Earth to Hannah!! Gonna need you to touch back down girlie.” Hannah was the salon receptionist, and Benny Miller’s secret admirer.

“Huh? Oh sorry, got a bit distracted.”

“You don’t say? You know, you could just ask him out, would probably be way more exciting than sitting there and daydreaming about him 24/7.”

“I do not daydream about him 24/7–“ She tries convincing you, but you know her far too well. You shoot her a pointed look— you’re not buying it. “Okay! Alright, I do think about him— a lot! But I can’t help it, he’s so…”

“Pretty?” You finish her thought.

“Yeah. He’s so pretty.”

“Well, I have it on good authority that said Pretty Man Child Benny, might have an itty bitty crush on a cute little receptionist. So, put your big girl panties on and make a move.”

Benjamin Miller— Benny, was a long time client of yours, turned friend. He was in your chair every 5 weeks maintaining that gorgeous head of hair. Gotta look good for the ladies when I’m in the ring— his words.

As the years went on, you found you were collecting Benny’s friends and family as clients. His older brother Will, Will’s wife Nicole, his close friend Pope (still haven’t heard his real name), as well as Mom and Dad Miller. Benny kept your chair busy and you were grateful for that.

He’d text you on Monday saying he’d had a friend who was needing a cut, something about a fresh start. He was in luck because you had one spot open, so you scheduled some guy named “Fish” as your last client for the week.

“Wait really?! He knows who I am?!” Shock was written all over Hannah’s face.

“Hannah, you greet him every appointment— of course he knows who you are.”

“I think I black out the minute he walks through the door.”

“That would explain the drool every time.” You can’t help but laugh at her expense.

She rolls her eyes back at you as she gathers her things from the front desk. “Alright, I’m going to leave before you decide to carry on with this onslaught of nonsense. Going to go home and pour myself a glass of wine in celebration!”

“Celebration?? For what?”

“Benny Miller knows who I am! And he has a crush on me!!” You let her bask in her glory, as she all but floats to the front door.

“Hannah…” You catch her attention before she’s exits. “Text him! Preferably before the wine.”

“Yes mom!” She mocks back at you before the door swings shut.

*

You had 15 minutes until your appointment would be showing up, so you took the time to clean your station up a bit and set up for his hair cut.

Your shears, combs and clippers laid out on your hair cutting tray, clean cape folding on top of your station.

As you were checking over your schedule for next week, making a list of colors you needed to pick up from the beauty supply, the front door opened welcoming your client— your very handsome client.

He looks nearly 6 feet tall, and so broad. His hair is dark chestnut from what you can see peeking out from under his hat. There’s a casualness to him in the way he carries himself— a shy confidence.

“Hi! You must be Fish.” You give him your name as you make your way up to him, extending your hand out in greeting. His rather large hand gripping yours, firm but a gentleness to it.

“Did he really tell you my name is Fish?! Fuckin’ Benny.” He shakes his head, as if to fain off embarrassment. Shoving his hands in his pockets he starts laughing about it. “Yeah, he did. I am assuming that’s not actually your name though. Although, not judging if it is.”

“No, my name is Francisco Morales, but you can call me Frankie.” You notice the flush creeping up his neck— you make a mental note at how gorgeous he is before you get caught staring.

“Okay then, Frankie. You can come on back and have a seat here at my chair. Feel free to put your hat on my shelf there.” Helping him get situated.

“Let me go grab a clean towel and then we can chat about what you are wanting.”

Frankie sits himself down and starts to take in the space. You seem very tidy and organized as he glances over at your tray of cutting tools. He right away decides he likes that about you. Benny didn’t mention how beautiful you were when making him this appointment. He said you were pretty but he wasn’t expecting to be overwhelmed by how stunning you were— he knows he has to try his best to be cool and not ramble on.

He sees you making your way back to him in the mirror, his eyes locked on yours like magnets— he notices you catching him staring, but then you give him a smile that lights up your face. There’s that butterfly sensation tickling his insides, he hasn’t had that happen in a long time, but he welcomes it.

*

Arriving back to your station you take the small towel and place it on his shoulders before securing the cutting cape around his neck.

“So what are we thinking?” You ask as you begin to run your fingers through his hair, taking in the texture, density and the shape of the cut he has now.

“Uhh, I umm… I don’t know. I’m open to your professional opinion.” He didn’t realize he needed to come in with a style in mind. His usual barber usually says “Hi” then starts hacking at it.

“That’s okay.” You look at him in your mirror, his eyes already fixed on you and you feel your breath catch in your throat.

You hadn’t noticed his dimple earlier, and you can’t seem to keep your eyes off of it when he smiles. You steady your thoughts and continue to comb your fingers through his hair making note of how it lays and it’s natural growth pattern.

“You have a nice wave going on. If we work with it and bring your sides and the back in a little tighter the top will lay nicely.”

He’s captivated by everything you’re saying, and yet he doesn’t understand a single word of it. You could tell him he needed to shave his head and he’d willingly let you, no questions asked.

“How does that sound Frankie??”

“Honestly— I have no idea what any of what you just said means, but I trust you.”

“Well, I appreciate your honesty.” You find his nervousness charming. “You won’t be losing much length overall, it will be more shaping and connecting the sides to the top.” Your hands moving around his head as you try to explain your process.

“Again— no clue what you just said.”

“Got it! Enough hair jargon then. Let’s get you back and washed up first.”

The warm water hides the sweat that’s formed on your palms as you begin washing his hair. He’s settled into the shampoo bowl, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest in such a kicked back manner.

Your fingers work diligently as you begin to scrub the soapy liquid through his wet locks. As you spend ample time working over his scalp, you catch the sound of a faint moan. You don’t think he meant for it to sound so erotic, but it’s stirring a warm feeling with in you.

“Feel good?”

“Mmmhmmm..” It’s all he’s able to manage, your movements awakening him in so many ways, his spine vibrating with an indescribable desire.

Suds throughly rinsed, leave in conditioner combed through, you both get situated back at your station.

He seems way more relaxed, more chatty and asking questions as you go section by section, meticulously trimming away the unwanted ends.

His questions alternated between your professional life and personal— where you grew up, favorite food and what made you decide to become a hairstylist. In a different circumstance, it might have felt invasive— but there was an ease to Frankie that had you spilling your life story to him so freely.

In return you asked him for more about himself. He shared about his life in Delta Force, where he had met Benny, Will and Pope, who you now know as Santiago.

His life as a helicopter pilot keeping him busy most of the time. He even felt brave enough to mention his semi recent divorce. You didn’t feel like you needed to delve deeper into his failed marriage, especially for only just meeting him.

You shared the same sentiment in working long hours and how it had you feeling overwhelmed at times, like you had less free time for yourself— mentioning you were working on trying to have more fun and go out. You shared how your former partners were always annoyed with you for being so consumed with work, the main reason you hadn’t been dating as much.

Checking and cross checking the length, you’re happy with how it’s shaping up.

“How do you normally style your hair? What are your go to products?”

He looks at you with the most sincere and confused expression, nervous to share his routine with you.

“Normally it’s just straight out of the shower, quick rubbing of the towel over it so it’s not dripping, then toss the hat on.” Pointing to the battered hat he’d worn in.

“Frankie! If there’s only one piece of advice you leave here with, please let it be that you never aggressively rub a towel over your hair again!”

He thinks he should feel embarrassed but there’s a sweetness in the way you share your knowledge with him— he will make a conscientious effort to gently pat his hair dry from now on.

“Since you mentioned you are usually throwing on your hat, it’s probably safe to assume there’s not much actual styling going on?”

“Uh, yeah… Not much styling. The least amount of steps possible is my go to method.”

“While the hat vibe is cute, I would not be doing my job if I sent you out of here wearing—”

“You think I’m cute?” He cuts you off. That dimple again making an appearance, his grin slightly laced in flirtation.

“Umm, yes.” Your face feels hot, the blow-dryer not helping much, as you try to remain calm and collected.

“Hm!”

Grabbing some product and applying a small amount to your palm, you begin to distribute it throughout his hair. .

“But I think without the hat is cute too. Easier to see all of your,” You gulp at your next admission. “Attractive features.” You giggle as you finish styling his freshly trimmed hair, each strand manipulated with such precision— the new length really does add to his handsomeness.

“You think I’m attractive too?” He says shifting in the chair, his gaze still steady on you.

“Oh wow, I’m really just letting my internal monologue run my mouth aren’t I?”

He shrugs with the slightest cock of his eyebrows in response.

“And now would be a good time for the ground to just swallow me up!” You groan, hands covering your face as you attempt to hide your embarrassment.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered.”

“So you think I’m cute now? We just going to spend the rest of the night confessing our new found feelings having only just met?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” He states so casually.

The rest of his appointment is filled with more flirtatious banter, a connection that you’re both very much aware of— yet neither of you stating the obvious

“Thank you again.” Frankie says holding a bag of products he insisted he leave with, wanting to branch out from his usual “hat vibe”’as you called it— said hat’s bill tucked into the back pocket of his already snug blue jeans.

“So… Do you want to set something up for next time?” Pulling out your schedule, hoping that Frankie likes his cut, and you, enough to return regularly. “I think 5 to 6 weeks would be a good amount of time to see you again.”

“Actually— I was hoping I could see you sooner than that.”

“Oh! Okay. When are you thinking?” Slightly confused, you start scanning over the openings you have in the coming weeks.

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?? I’m not follow— Oh! Ooooh!”

“Yeah….” There’s a budding nervous energy about him as you realize what he’s asking. “There’s this sports bar around the corner— the guys and I hang out there from time to time. Anyways, they have some great appetizers and craft beer on tap… If you’re open to it, we could, um go… Unless you have other plans…”

“Yes! I’d love to Frankie.”

“Yeah?!” His face instantly beaming with excitement.

“Yeah! Just let me clean and lock up real quick, then we can head out.”

*

Drinks and appetizers flowed into a moonlit walk back to your car— both of you stalling out your goodbyes.

“So, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Frankie says as his hand cups your cheek, his warm gaze fixed on yours. “I hope this isn’t too soon, but would it be okay if I kissed you?”

“Yeah.. I’d like that.” Leaning into him to close the gap, fingers carding through the nape of his silky waves.

Frankie’s lips all but crash into yours, the intensity growing from your own, eager for more of him. He nips at the plumpness of your lower lip, encouraging them to part for him. His tongue slipping inside your mouth and you can taste the bitterness from his beer still lingering.

A grip is established on your hip, his hand slowly moving around to your backside eliciting a breathy moan from deep with in you as the heated kiss escalates.

Laughter from a rowdy group of bystanders reminds you both of your surroundings.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away there.” Frankie rests his forehead on yours as he tries to regain his composure, his breath fanning across your cheeks— they’re no longer cold from the frigid air.

“Well, I most certainly wasn’t complaining. In fact, I look forward to you doing it again sometime.”

He places a kiss to your forehead, before exchanging goodbyes. He promises again to call tomorrow, and you’re already breathlessly excited for it.

Heater cranked up in your car, willing your body to adjust to the heat. You grab for your phone in your purse, pulling open your message app so you can send a quick text before putting the car in drive.

-Hey Benny, just wanted to thank you for setting that appointment up for Frankie. He’s a great guy! Super funny and hella charming.

-You sure we’re talking about the same Frankie?? 😉

-Funny! Anyways, I appreciate it and I’m looking forward to seeing him again!

-Oh! Hannah called, we’ve got a date next week!

-You be good to her Benny!

-Of course! No problem! Make sure you and Frankie thank me in your wedding toast 🍾🍾 Night!!

You roll your eyes at his last text before tossing your phone in to the passenger seat. The entire drive home you can’t get Frankie out of your head, wondering if he’d find you too eager to call him when you got home.

The decision made for you by the buzzing of your phone— Frankie’s name flashing on the screen.

Next

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier #wildemaven writes #pedro pascal

[angelisgonnastartchangingurls]

richard, on a friday

robbie showed annie some texts he'd exchanged with their mom. she'd asked him if he'd deletd the pictures he took of her yet and he said "of course not, i made it your contact photo when you call me."

mom: oh noooo

him: relax, you look great

mom: well thank u

him: perfect tits, cute bush

mom: i really hadn't trimmed it enough when you saw me, it was a mess, i've since done a better job

him: let me see

mom: lol!

him: take a pic of your bush for me

mom: you're so bad

him: come on, don't be shy

and she'd sent him a photo of herself in the bathroom mirror, in just a bra, smiling, posed just slightly, bush well-displayed. she'd trimmed it down to nearly a shadow, with very defined, angled edges.

him: excellent work, my only note is to take the bra off next time.

annie gave him a blowjob after that. "it's not my birthday or anything," he said, as she wrapped her mouth around him. she was very aware what she was doing -- she had to beat her mom at this.

of course, she already was beating her mom at this, and she'd casually sent robbie dozens of nudes and videos of herself fucking. but it wasn't enough to just win by a margin. she needed to leave her mom in the dust. she got robbie's cum all over her shirt and had to change before work.

ted had asked her out that night but she'd told him she would just come over and fuck him after a work event. the work event was another party richard had invited her to, a fundraiser for a nonprofit. annie wore a short black dress and a white, small pair of panties. no bra. when annie got there, she was surprised to see that richard's daughter was there too. "annie, this is my daughter sophie, this is my therapist annie," he said.

"wow, hot therapist," sophie said, grinning.

"richard has shown me some of your work," annie said. "it's really lovely."

"sophie's in the city for a few weeks as an artist in residence at AIC," richard said.

"impressive," annie said.

"not really," sophie said. "they just kind of hand those grants out. want to get a drink?"

annie was surprised but delighted by how brusque sophie was. she'd expected a wilting little soft-spoken french flower. but she was funny and vulgar and sharp.

"my dad thinks you are so smart," she said to annie. "which i know from a rich white guy sounds condescending but he really means it."

"yeah, he's a very earnest person," annie said.

"it's very sweet. my mom was the bitter acid that balanced him out. now he's fuckin' ted lasso."

"well, it seems like you're the acid now."

"i try but i don't see him much."

"that's hard. i'm close with my dad too. he lives in the suburbs but he's always coming to hang out with me and get away from my mom."

sophie laughed. "i know i have a dead mom so i'm supposed to tell you to appreciate her but my mom was kind of a cunt."

annie laughed.

"you want to do some molly?" sophie asked.

"of course," annie said.

sophie pulled her into the bathroom.

"last time i let someone pull me into the bathroom around your dad, she took a picture of my tits and showed it to him."

"very professional," sophie said, putting a pill in annie's mouth. "don't worry, if i take pictures of you i won't show my dad."

"i'm not sure i minded, honestly," annie said.

"of course you didn't," sophie said.

the night was buzzy, blurry fun. sophie often circulated away from annie, and annie made wide-eyed small talk with other people, but was always grateful when she returned. richard was mostly busy with others but winked at them a lot.

claire was texting annie, and at one point sophie caught sight of a nude claire had sent.

"i definitely didn't clock you as queer but i think france has fucked up my gaydar," sophie said. "no one is fucking gay over there. which you wouldn't think would be the case!"

"i don't know if i am, i just... i met this girl the other week and we impulsively fucked and i think it made us both question..."

"wow, the pussy was that good huh?" sophie said. "can i have her number? i haven't been properly eaten out in like a year."

"i'll give you her number, yeah."

annie texted claire. "i'm kind of busy tonight but do you want to fuck my friend?"

"female?" claire replied.

"yeah, female, very hot, kind of high right now..."

"yes" claire said. "my boyfriend is visiting home for the weekend. yes."

annie gave sophie claire address and put her in an uber. she went back to the party to said goodnight to richard.

"where did sophie go?"

"uh, i kind of got her laid?" annie said. "sent her to a female friend's place who was kind of in the mood."

"well, you two are already fast friends, huh?" he laughed. "have a great night, i'll see you on monday!"

annie took an uber to ted's place. he'd taken a pill, and they fucked hard on the couch, annie's dress still on, panties pulled aside. annie came three times on his cock, and ted finished twice inside her. annie was a mess, and took a long shower after. when she got out, she had texts from claire -- pictures of sophie nude in her bed. annie was surprised to see that sophie was fully shaved.

surprisingly, it came up in therapy on monday. richard was remarking on how nice it was to have sophie stateside for a while, living at his apartment, and the intimacy of that. he told annie that he'd sat in the bathroom and chatted with sophie as she shaved her bush in the bath.

"why?" annie asked. "it was such a great bush!"

richard laughed. "you know, I think it's a when in rome kind of thing. the bush makes sense in france. not as common here. i mean i don't want to speak for all women. she said your friend was shaved."

"she was?" annie said. "surprising. she was not when we hooked up a week ago." she laughed at herself disclosing this kind of thing in front of richard so readily, so eagerly. "maybe i inspired her."

richard smiled.

[joekeeryswife]

Omg hi!! I saw your taking requests for Tom from Make Up!!! Can I request one where the reader gets a call from one of his friends and has to pick him up from the pub and he’s SUPER wasted and the reader has to take care of him all night? Ty Ty!!!

Smashed - T.G

hi love thank you for your request! this is so bad and i’m so sorry. i’ve been so busy at work and it’s been a hectic week but i guess enjoy <3

you had moved to Cornwall two years ago and in that time you met your boyfriend Tom. he came into your life at a terrible time and being with him made you come out of the negative mental state you were in and you were so grateful for him. he worked on the caravan park site, where you both lived, and decided tonight he'd go out to the pub with a few work friends which you didn't mind. you weren't really the going out type and staying home sounded so much better than going out.

you were sat on the sofa, TV playing some random show whilst you were reading 'It Ends with Us', your phone next to you as you concentrated on the book. you loved to read whether is was in your heads or reading out loud in bed to comfort Tom, sending him into a deep sleep. your reading was cut short when your phone had a non stop buzzing sound coming from it. you looked at your phone seeing it said 'incoming call from Daniel'. he was one of Toms closest friends but he never called you, he had no reason to do for him to call you made you worried.

"hey Daniel, everything okay?" you asked, balancing the phone between your ear and shoulder as you put your bookmark in your book. "hey y/n. everything's fine it's just Tom is pissed out of his head and i was just wondering if you could come get him? he's like calling your name so i'm assuming he wants you" Daniel said, making you smile shyly. "i'll be there soon, i'll call you when i'm outside" you said, walking to the door to slip on your sliders. you weren't dressing to impress anyone so pyjamas and sliders would do.

you grabbed your keys and slipped them into your pocket as you walked out the door. you locked it then made your way to the car, hoping that Tom was okay. he never usually got drunk and when he did he would turn into the biggest baby ever. he would be so clingy and cuddly which you didn't mind on you, but if he was doing that to his friends you knew he would be embarrassed when you told him in the morning. the drive to the pub was quick, it was about 20 minutes away so you didn't mind driving to get him.

when you arrived outside the pub, you didn't have to call Daniel. he was already outside with Tom, he was lent against the wall, head in his hands as Daniel tried to keep him against the wall so he wouldn't fall. you stopped the car and quickly rushed to Daniel and Tom. you could head Tom groaning and his slurred voice as you walked closer to the pair. "no man i just need y/n" he slurred, rubbing his eye. you approached the two and Daniel felt relieved, he had him waiting outside so he could go straight home instead of drinking more.

"oh y/n thank god. he's been asking about you for ages." Daniel said as you placed your hand on Tom's shoulder. "don't worry, i can take it from here. go have a good time and thank you for taking care of him" you replied sending him a smile which he reciprocated and then went back to the bar. Tom still had his head in his hands, still lent against the wall. "Tom, love, i'm here baby" you said, stroking his shoulder comfortingly, he finally looked up and his face completely changed.

he looked sad when he looked up but then he saw you and flung his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his hold. "y/n. oh my god i missed you so much" Tom said, leaving a sloppy kiss on your temple. "hi sweetheart. you ready to go home" you laughed, your hand rubbing up and down his back. "yes i am. i can't wait to cuddle and sleep" he said as you pulled away from the hug, his eyes closed as he swayed slightly.

you smiled and pulled him gently to the car, holding his hand as you guided him along the pathway. "woah the world is moving" he said as he swayed as he walked closer and closer to the car. you laughed loudly as you finally got to the car and opened the passenger door for him. he sat down in the seat and as soon as you closed the door his head fell onto the window, eyes closed as he 'rested his eyes' as he liked to call it. you got into the car and started driving home. the whole way home the car was almost silent worn Toms small snores filling the car.

you kept looking over at Tom, making sure he was okay as you drove to the caravan. after ten minutes, Toms head moved from the window to your shoulder, getting more comfortable as he slept. you let your hand move to stroke his cheek, giving him some comfort as you drove. you arrived home 15 minutes later and parked the car as close as you could to the caravan which was the car park down the road. you took the key out of the ignition and turned the car light on. you quietly opened the car door and walked around to the passenger side to help Tom out of the car.

you opened the passenger door and gently shook Tom awake. "Tom, sweetheart. do you think you can get out of the car?" you whispered, hand on his shoulder as he opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings. he allowed you to help him out of the car and walk to the caravan. the walk to the caravan was filled with Tom slurring his sentences and almost tripping up over nothing. once you'd got into the caravan you got Tom into the bedroom and sat him down on the bed. you started taking off his clothes so you could put on his pyjamas but he stopped you by grabbing your hands.

"excuse me. i have a girlfriend and i do not consent" he said, making you smile at him. even in his drunken state he was loyal to you and you were so grateful. "Tom, love, i am your girlfriend i'm just trying to help you get into your pyjamas" you said, stroking his arm comfortingly. he looked at you confused for a moment before his face changed to content and happy. "baby, oh i missed you so much" he said, smile widening as he pulled you into a tight hug. "i missed you too. now let's get you into your pyjamas so we can go to bed" you replied as your hand went up to stroke his cheek softly.

you helped him get changed into his pyjamas and got him into bed before getting yourself ready for bed.you brushed your teeth and washed your face before turning the lights off and made your way back to the bedroom where Tom was already fast asleep. you slipped into bed and Tom immediately laid his head on your chest, cuddling into you more. "goodnight love. sweet dreams” you said, kissing his forehead as he snored loudly, obviously in a deep sleep. you let your chin rest on top of his head, letting yourself fall asleep. whenever Tom slept he always let his head fall to your chest. it was like the only thing that helped him get to sleep was the sound of your heartbeat and you loved him so much.

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