#don’t mind me just making the most self indulgent au possible

[plutoccult]

HAIKYUU X THE OFFICE AU — EPISODE THREE: EMPLOYEE AWARDS NIGHT

pairing: sugawara koushi x female reader

description: it’s the annual employee awards night for japan pulp and paper, your least favorite night of the year. after getting embarrassed year after year over your ill-fated engagement, you just hope the night turns out decently, and your new conflicting feelings for sugawara aren’t all that helpful either.

word count: 5.4k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: hello! i’m sorry this third part took so long to get to you guys. i’m juggling schoolwork alongside life in general and i didn’t want to rush this then post something crappy as a result. i’m really passionate about this au and want to provide the best content possible for everyone, not just myself (because honestly this is so self indulgent for me to write). this part will be inspired by the dundies episode, of course with many changes, and as you can tell, we’re getting closer to the angst!!! my favorite!!! i’m thinking about making a suga x reader playlist, honestly. hopefully the wait for this was worth it, and i hope you enjoy!

“y/n, y/n, y/n!” oh, how you hated the tone of ukai’s voice right now. based off experience—and also the time of year—he was either going to a. act super excited about something, b. say something stupid, or the most popular option, c. both. “you know what time of the year it is.”

“unfortunately, i do.” you sigh as you look up from your computer.

ukai pouted over your lack of enthusiasm. he should know by now why you were like this. “why aren’t you excited? awards night! chili’s! booze! ribs! good vibes!”

yes, awards night. you absolutely despised this night ever since you began working at the office. it was more like an ordinary power trip for ukai rather than an actual celebration for the employees. most if not all of the time, at least someone got absolutely humiliated, and you were one of the common targets. but, there was free food and drinks, so you couldn’t totally hate it, even if you really did hate it a whole lot.

“well, i do like ribs.” you shrug.

“what about booze?” he questioned.

“i need to listen to a lot of taylor swift if i’m going to drink, or be really sad…” you pause. “or all of the above.”

“ugh, how pathetic.” ukai scoffed and began to walk away.

“don’t make me tell takeda you bully your employees on the daily.” you lightly threatened, but ukai wasn’t wavered by your words one bit.

“i bully him on the daily, i’m invincible!” he said, perhaps a little too loud as the entire office could hear him, even takeda himself in his little nook.

“uh-huh…”

•••

“every year, ukai holds an awards night for all the employees at japan pulp and paper. mind you, he funds the entire thing. none of the other branches to this. just this one.” you explain to the camera as the crew questioned ukai’s yearly excursion. “it’s probably my least favorite night of the year besides the bachelor finale. i always get sad thinking about how majority of those relationships never work out…”

•••

in his office, ukai put on a show for the documentary crew as he conveniently placed all of his past awards on his desk for the sake of “cleaning” them. they were all awards he gave to himself, but he still felt like a winner regardless.

“oh, what’s this?” ukai asked as he pretended to act like he didn’t notice the cameras were rolling. “just my “world’s best boss” awards. i’ve never lost once. i should make a reel, actually… Y/N!”

you cursed to yourself as you got up from your desk and walked to ukai’s office, eyeing suga as he snickered quietly and rolling your eyes as a result. “is it a y/n problem or a ukai problem?”

“y/n problem.” he said without hesitation. “i’m emailing you footage from every miyagi awards and i need you to make a highlight reel.”

“can’t you just make tanaka do it?” you whined. you could be doing much more productive things right now, like making faxes or pining for suga from afar— oh! you were still struggling with that newfound realization, it seemed.

“but where’s the fun in that?” ukai whined.

oh, but the fun was so obvious to you, how could your egotistical boss not see that? “um, he’d probably make the highlight reel all about you rather than everybody else.”

“y/n, you beautiful genius.” perfection, just like you wanted, and a rare compliment from ukai too. “TANAKA!”

tanaka bolted out of his seat, knocking over his chair and even spooking the shit out of suga. he tripped over his feet multiple times as he ran to the sound of ukai’s voice, almost like an over-obedient puppy. it was sad, but oddly adorable at the same time.

“yes, sir?!” tanaka asked, practically gasping for air. how could he be so out of breath so quickly, you wondered.

“miyagi awards highlight reel. have it done by the end of the day.” ukai ordered, passing your previous duty onto someone far more willing.

“i’m on it!” he said excitedly, running back to his desk as quickly as he arrived.

now that you got away with not having to do a thing, you wanted out of ukai’s spiky hair. “am i done here?”

“eh, make me a coffee or something.” ukai said, shooing you away. as if you were going to do that for him.

“sounds like a ukai problem, not a y/n problem.” you sassed, shocking your boss as he cried out for you on your way out of his office.

“y/n! god, where did you learn that from?! tsukishima?!”

•••

“she sure did.” tsukishima smiled proudly as the two of you high fived each other. where else would you learn such sass? from the sass master himself, of course. he was the leader of the sassy apocalypse.

“you know, i actually dislike you less now, tsukishima.” you say nonchalantly, and tsukishima is touched by your words.

“that is the nicest thing i’ve ever heard.” he said, placing his hand over his heart to show his appreciation.

•••

the work day went by, and tanaka sat on his computer while looking through past awards footage. upon his digging, he stopped on a certain clip from last year, one you instantly recognized just by the sounds of the camera shuffling, even from the distance of your desk to his. you couldn’t believe you were reliving this right now.

“yo, guys. watch this.” tanaka called out. nishinoya and hinata get out of their seats and crowd at tanaka’s desk to watch the computer screen with more of your coworkers following suit. it all made you want to crawl into a hole and die.

tanaka resumed the video, thus playing out last year’s utter embarrassment. it was ukai announcing your award, one that haunts you to this day. “and the award for "world’s longest engagement" goes to… y/n l/n! give it up for y/n, everybody!”

the sound of everyone’s applause in the video erupted through the office. suga sat awkwardly across from tanaka, so even if he wasn’t watching the video, he could hear it all loud and clear. he remembered that night all too well, and all suga could think to himself was that if he was your fiancé, he wouldn’t leave you waiting around to get married.

“when are you finally gonna tie that knot, you two? when pigs fly?”

god, the memories are all coming back to you. getting the award was bad enough, but with ryo right there watching, just as embarrassed as you, it was all too much. you couldn’t take the humiliation anymore, so you walked away from your desk and went to the break room, hoping it would be empty so you could go cry in there. suga noticed you walk away, and while tempted to comfort you, he thought of something much better.

suga—with the camera crew inches behind him—knocked on ukai’s office door. when ukai noticed the cameras, he motioned for them to come in. suga just knew his boss simply couldn’t resist it.

“hey ukai?” he walked through the door, one of the crew members closing the door behind him. “ooh, it’s cramped in here.”

“you’ll get used to it.” ukai shrugged. “what’s up?”

“have you, uh, finalized the miyagi awards yet?” suga asked. he was beating around the bush right now, but it was all part of his not so sinister master plan.

“why, you want me to rig something? because i can be convinced…” ukai dramatically paused. “with money.”

“no, not exactly. i just, uh…” he sat down in an empty chair. “i’m kind of curious as to what award you’re giving y/n this year.”

you see, ukai didn’t have a clue about suga’s feelings for you. if he paid a little more attention to his employees, he’d see how clear as day it was that you two had some unspoken thing going on. even the documentary crew noticed it on their first day of filming. his obliviousness was just bad.

“oh, same as last year, no contest.” ukai struggled not to laugh, the mere thought of what happened last year giving him the urge to burst. “it's the best one.”

“world’s longest engagement? again?” suga scoffed. he had an inkling this would happen, and thank god he decided to talk to ukai while you had no suspicions.

“yeah, it’s hilarious.” he replied.

now this was where suga had to let his plan really start rolling. it’s phase one now. “i just, um, i think it’s just pretty much expected by now, you know?”

“but that's why it's funny.” ukai said. “every year that y/n and ryo don't get married, it gets funnier.”

“well, i think if you use the same jokes it just comes across as lazy, if you catch my drift.” suga shrugged. there comes the first crack in the glass. he knew exactly where to push ukai’s buttons.

“lazy?!”

“and unoriginal.” the glass had been totally shattered now.

“well, i never!” ukai gasped out of offense. lazy and unoriginal? he’d rather die than have his jokes be called such things, which is why he fell right into suga’s trap.

“oughta think of something better then.” he said, resisting a smirk.

“and what’s your idea of better, suga?” ukai questioned, crossing his arms as he waited for an answer.

“oh, well, let me think about that.” suga smiled to the camera, proud of his work.

•••

you walk into the break room with tears in your eyes. unfortunately for you, takeda was sitting at a table alone as he sipped a cup of coffee, so you quickly wiped away your tears and pretended as if nothing was wrong.

“oh, hey, takeda.” you sniffle. “excited about awards night?”

you weren’t exactly the best at hiding things, which takeda instantly noticed. it’s almost never a good idea to cry in front of the hr guy. “y/n, are you crying? did ukai do something insanely offensive again?”

you’re silent for a moment, trying to think of what to say to him, especially considering he’s higher up than you in the company. regardless, the words all just come out like word vomit.

“i’m in the world’s longest engagement with a man who doesn’t even know my favorite flavor of yogurt.” you spilled out, instantly regretting saying those words out loud based off the confused look on takeda’s face. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said anything—”

“no, no, no. it’s okay.” he reassured you. “you guys can come to me about anything, especially if it’s ukai related.”

“really?” you asked in disbelief.

“emphasis on anything, not just the ukai stuff.” takeda said. it’s nice to know someone else around here has your back, even if that’s quite literally part of his job.

“thanks, takeda.” you say. “i don’t know why ukai messes with you so much.”

“trust me, i don’t know why either…” he quietly said to himself.

you decided that since you were already in the break room, you might as well grab your favorite snack, but alas, someone ate it. again. you knew you should’ve bought that mini fridge to hide behind your desk like you wanted to.

“aw, did yamaguchi eat my fucking yogurt again?” you groan then instantly realized you dropped the f-bomb on camera once again. “oh shit, i just cursed. fuck, i did it again! oh my god, please stop me—”

•••

“i am not okay, guys. not okay.” you say while laughing almost manically, sparking concern from the crew who questioned your sanity. “i have feelings for someone who isn’t my fiancé. someone i work with, no less! i’ve been with ryo for years, since college! but will i EVER get married? i just… i don’t know what to do. i just want this to all go away.”

•••

after arguing with ryo at home, you finally convinced him to come along with you to chili’s for awards night. he wanted to go out to a bar with his friends instead, but he did that plenty enough, so one night without going wouldn’t kill him, at least you hoped that was the case. you couldn’t bear to hear his voice any longer at this point.

the two of your entered the restaurant and were greeted by tanaka and nishinoya, who were taking on the role of ushers before the event properly began.

“welcome to the eighth annual japan pulp and paper awards night.” nishinoya greeted you. “may i take your coat, y/n?”

“sure, nishinoya, thanks.” you say, taking off your coat and handing it to him.

“ryo—” he began to say before ryo brushed past you and grumpily walked towards an empty table. “nevermind.”

you softly smile to them before following ryo, taking the vacant seat next to him. you let out a sigh and look over to see suga was already here, sitting at a table with hinata and kageyama, seemingly babysitting them for the night. you assumed daichi put him up to it, wondering how he was able to be convinced.

“i can’t believe you dragged me here after what happened last year, y/n. you embarrassed me.” ryo scoffed.

god, not this argument again. you remembered what happened when you got home that night last year. your argument lasted all throughout the hours of the night, all to end with no solution. you both went to work the next day with bags under your eyes, the sweet bliss of caffeine keeping you in a somewhat functioning state.

you couldn’t understand why ryo would claim this was all your fault. he was the one that proposed to you! besides, you were far more than willing to plan a wedding, but it takes more than one person to do it. you would have never gotten that pathetic award in the first place had it not been for his lack of cooperation. it’s why your relationship was doomed to fail; he never wanted to work as a team.

“really?” you raise an eyebrow. “if anything, you embarrassed me.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, a hint of threat in his tone.

“it means exactly what i said.“ you huff.

“pft, whatever.” ryo rolled his eyes. “we should’ve just went to the thirsty bulldog with the warehouse guys like i wanted to.”

“well, you can go. i’m staying.” you cross your arms.

before ryo could get another word in, tanaka walked onto a small stage with a microphone in hand, signaling the awards were about to begin.

“alright, before we get started, a few announcements. keep your acceptance speeches short.” tanaka said, wagging his finger around so everyone got the point. “i have wrap it up music, and i'm not afraid to use it, people!”

ukai took the microphone out of tanaka’s hand despite his protest and forced him off the stage, getting the night properly started. “thank you tanaka for that, and thank you all for coming to the 2023 miyagi awards night! i am your host, keishin ukai. let’s all have some fun tonight!”

everyone clapped, and ryo simply couldn’t stand to be there a moment longer. he looked at his surroundings to see if anyone would notice him leaving, but he thought screw it and decided to just straight up get out.

“i’m leaving.” he said quietly in your ear. “find your own way home.”

“fine by me.” you reply.

ryo shook his head in annoyance. “god, you’re such a bitch, y/n.”

your jaw dropped as you watched ryo leave the restaurant. you knew no one else heard what he said, but you wished someone did so they could see why you were in such shock right now.

“oh man, ryo, don’t go, aw no, come on—” ukai said on ryo’s way out, letting out a chuckle once he saw him head through the exit. “whew, thank god.”

all of your coworkers laughed, and you covered your face with your hands in embarrassment. at least last time you met your fate towards the end of the night, not right at the beginning. this was already off to a horrendous start.

to come to your rescue, suga slinked out of his chair and walked over to the empty seat next to you. “this seat taken?”

you uncover your eyes and see suga, your knight in shining armor. he always came to you when you needed him most, didn’t he? “uh, not anymore, no.”

“great.” he grinned and sat down. “someone else will have to babysit carrot top and mr. simpleton idiot tonight.”

why did suga have to make the whole feelings thing so hard for you? he just had to be perfect in every way, the complete opposite of your asshole fiancé. he always treated you like porcelain, and if that’s what you were, then ryo had shattered you a long time ago. but as much as that sick and twisted part of you deep down wanted suga, you knew you couldn’t have him. it was wrong.

as the night moved along, a waitress walked up to your table to take your order, just what you needed. if you were going to spend this night with suga and potentially be made a running joke, you needed reinforcements in the form of intoxicating liquid. there was no way you could get through tonight sober, as sad as it sounded.

“can i get you two something to drink?” the waitress asked politely.

“two of the strongest drink you have.” you reply.

“alright, i’ll be right back—” she began to say before you cut her off.

“oh no, that’s just for me.” you say with out hesitation. suga’s eyes widened as a result, his concern evident.

•••

“is y/n okay? do any of you know what’s up with her?” suga asked.

of course they knew, but it’s not like they were going to spill, especially considering they would be fired if they ruined such a slow burn. the producers knew full well they had a glorious storyline unfolding on their hands, and none of the crew members were allowed to directly stir the pot.

“nothing?” he groaned. yup, not a peep from them. “you have to know something. god, you guys suck.”

the camera crew took that personally.

•••

the distributing of the awards went smoothly so far. no complete and utter humiliation happened yet, so it was safe to say nothing was terribly wrong. while ukai’s awards were almost always at least slightly offensive, some of them were actually kind of funny.

“alright, y’all. this award goes to someone who is quite literally scared of everything.” ukai began. “i mean, they freak out when a fly is in the room. so, the award for “biggest scaredy cat” goes to… hitoka yachi!”

everyone did the typical applause, and kiyoko giggled at yachi while she went up to get her award. on the way up to the stage, she received a high five from yamaguchi, her cheeks slightly burning red as a result. however, her blush quickly faded when she received her little trophy.

“um, this says “biggest scaredy rat”…” she spoke up.

“ignore that.” ukai said.

before yachi had a chance to speak another word, tanaka played his “wrap it up” music that he threatened everybody with earlier. “i didn’t even give a speech!”

“we’re on a time crunch!” tanaka yelled harshly.

“but i…” yachi pouted as she accepted defeat and walked off the stage.

“it’s okay, yachi.” yamaguchi tried to comfort her.

“thanks, yamaguchi.” she sighed.

“i’m shocked you didn’t get that award considering you look like the rat from flushed away.” tsukishima snickered while yamaguchi gawked at his savage comment.

“what?!”

while that was going on, you were downing drink after drink. you weren’t even counting anymore. no thoughts, head empty; just the way you wanted it to be. you figured this was the only way to feel good about yourself with the way your life is going, so you thought so be it.

after finishing yet another drink, you slammed the glass down onto the table and raised your fists into the air. “y’all know what dj khaled said!”

“anotha one?” suga replied hesitantly.

“anotha one!” you exclaim.

“okay, let’s settle down.” cough. “y/n.”

“are you still drinking that?” you ask suga.

“um—”

“great, thanks.” you interrupt suga and take his beer, giving him no room to protest. he wanted to tell you to relax on the drinks, but he found it hard to do so. would it come off the wrong way? maybe, so suga had to bite his tongue while you got drunk. you weren’t the only one drinking anyway, but you might be the only one drinking to this extent.

once you were quiet, ukai began to announce the next award. “this next award is one that’s never been done before. gasp, am i right? why are none of you gasping?”

crickets.

“anyway, this award goes to someone who’s built like a greek god and is always rocking a gorgeous man bun.” he said, making it all so obvious. “the “office beefcake” award goes to… asahi the temp!”

asahi looked to the camera in shock.

•••

“what’s… what’s a beefcake?” he asked in disbelief, hoping someone could grant him an answer, but he was left with nothing. “is it like, um, a cake made of beef? a beef made of cake? wait, that doesn’t even make sense…”

one of the crew members pulled up the definition on their phone and handed it to him. when asahi read it over, his eyes widened. “oh...”

•••

“this award… is no contest.” ukai said. from the way he started speaking, you thought the award was for you, but thankfully it wasn’t. “i ask myself this all the time, how can one possess such a hair color without dyeing it?”

“ugh, come on.” tsukishima rolled his eyes. “we already know it’s an award for hinata.”

ukai couldn’t even get that mad. it was his most unoriginal award ever. a painfully obvious one too. “yeah, come up here, ginger.”

hinata rushed onto the stage as happy as he could be, but his smile quickly went away when he read out his award. “most orange hair? not again!”

kageyama hollered out into a fit of laughter, probably the only employee who found this hilarious. any chance to laugh at hinata, he would take, but he sure wouldn’t get the last laugh once ukai was done with him.

“well, kageyama, since you find that so funny, let’s give out your award.” he said then went to look for the trophy. “where is it… ah, it’s the “tight ass” award!”

“but that went to tsukishima last year!” kageyama stood defiantly.

“well, guess what? there’s a new tight ass in town!” ukai cackled.

tsukishima laughed his ass off. he wouldn’t have been mad if he received the same award, but this… this was the greatest potential outcome. this may just end up being the best awards night ever. that is, if everyone is happy by the end of it.

all while tsukishima laughed, kageyama gave him the death glare, but it wasn’t long before he switched his gaze onto ukai, who joined in on the laughter.

•••

“how’s the award, kageyama?”

“i’m gonna shove it where the sun don’t shine and show ukai who the REAL tight ass is.” he said through gritted teeth. it was safe to say no one should speak to him for the rest of the night.

•••

it was halfway through the night, and after so many awards had been given out, it was time to relax a little bit. unfortunately, ukai’s idea of “relaxing” wasn’t what any of your pictured.

“now, it’s time for a brief intermission…” he spoke into the microphone. “one where i will be singing bring me to life by evanescence with tanaka.”

“oh my god.” kiyoko’s eyes widened. she couldn’t handle this right now. it’s too much.

“kiyoko’s got a crush…” daichi teased, gently nudging her shoulder while yachi tried to pull him away to stop.

“daichi, don’t—”

“i’m just poking fun!” he raised his hands in the air defensively.

“shut your trap, daichi.” kiyoko said lowly.

“that doesn’t work on me like it works on tanaka and nishinoya.” daichi said with full confidence before kiyoko gave him the death glare, which immediately made him cower down. “but that does.”

meanwhile, you’re sipping on an empty glass through a straw, and suga couldn’t help but take notice to it. “uh, i think that might be empty, y/n.”

“no, no, no. when the ice melts it’s just like a second drink!” you giggle before letting out a loud hiccup.

“lemme just…” suga tried taking the glass out of your hands, but you fought against it, so he gave up. “nevermind.”

suga’s concern only grew more and more. not just towards you, but also to the horrendously off-key performance ukai and tanaka were putting on right now. at least the “god, please help me” face on kiyoko had while she covered her ears was funny.

“WAKE ME UP!”

“WAKE ME UP INSIDE!”

“I CAN’T WAKE UP!”

“WAKE ME UP INSIDE!”

“SAVE ME!”

suddenly, wadded up napkins were pelted at ukai and tanaka, but it wasn’t their coworkers who did such a thing. it was the other poor customers in the restaurant who just wanted to have a nice meal.

“you guys SUCK!” a random guy yelled, crushing both ukai’s soul and his confidence, so he pressed pause on the music, which confused tanaka.

“hey, why’d you stop?” he questioned, ready to keep going despite the haters.

“i’m not feeling it anymore.” ukai shrugged. “we should just cut this short, you guys. just enjoy your food and stuff.”

cut this short? oh no, no, no. you didn’t get drunk for nothing! if ukai was going to put you to shame once again, you sure weren’t going to be sober for it this time around.

“wait, where’s my award?!” you whined. “i didn’t get one!”

“yeah, me too!” suga chimed in to help your case. he too didn’t put on all that work convincing ukai for nothing. neither of your efforts shall be in vein.

“anotha one! anotha one! anotha one!” you began to chant, suga joining in before the rest of your coworkers did too “come on, everybody!”

the chant went on for a few more seconds before ukai finally gave in, but you would soon live to regret your previous decision. “okay, fine! since you asked so nicely… this next award goes out to none other than our lovely receptionist, y/n.”

all of your drunkenness quickly faded into sober realization as you brace for what’s to come. suga could only hope his earlier conversation with ukai actually worked.

“i think we all know what award y/n is going to get this year…” a dramatic pause, it’s killing you. why does ukai love those so much? “it’s the “dairy queen” award! because she’s always eating yogurt without blowing up the bathroom afterwards!”

you instantly gasp and look over to see the proud smile on suga’s face. you have no clue he took part in this for your sake, but you’re just too elated to think right now. you couldn’t believe this was happening in the best way possible. finally, you weren’t the butt of the joke, and it was absolutely glorious.

“come on down, y/n!” ukai said as you got out of your chair—still in shock—and walked up to the stage for your award, one you were actually excited to receive.

“oh my god!” you say as you grab the microphone out of ukai’s hands to give a speech. “i have so many people to thank for this award.”

“first off, shoutout to my supreme tolerance for lactose, i’m just really built different.” you began. “uh, let’s give ukai a round of applause for being our mc tonight because this is a lot harder than it looks. and also because of tanaka too.”

you watched as everyone clapped, but your eyes were fixed on suga for a brief moment as he watched you in complete and utter amazement. you didn’t know if it was the alcohol, but you sure felt on top of the world right now.

“and um, finally, i want to thank god. because god gave me this award…” you pause before saying nine words that nobody will ever let you live down, but you didn’t care. “and i feel god in this chili’s tonight. WOO!”

“y/n l/n, ladies and gentlemen!” ukai exclaimed as you gave him a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, making him blush “oh! thank you…”

you return to your seat and instantly wrap your arms around suga. he’s taken aback at first, but returned your embrace and found himself lingering against your touch longer than he should. you let go of the hug and jump up and down in excitement, forcing suga to join you, and does so happily.

•••

“i think this might just have been the best awards night ever.” suga said to the camera. in all honesty, it was your happiness that made it this way. “we got a killer evanescence cover, which is always awesome. asahi is the office beefcake now, pretty bummed it’s not me. kageyama dethroned tsukishima, which was a total shocker, in my opinion. and uh, you’re the dairy queen.”

suga looked over to you and saw that you were staring at him while continuously nodding. “what?”

“nothing.” you smile. you were so drunk right now.

“okay.” he said before looking away. when suga turned his head again, you were still staring at him, and he could swear he saw hearts in your eyes. “what?!”

“nothing!” you start laughing uncontrollably and fall out of your chair, still laughing.

“oh my god, you are so drunk!” suga exclaimed as he rushed down to the floor to lift you back up, but ukai had a different idea in mind.

“oh fuck, she’s dead!”

“you’re not supposed to curse, ukai!” suga yelled at him.

“shut the fuck up, suga!” he yelled back.

•••

“was this year's awards night a success?” ukai repeated the documentary crew’s question. “well, let's see. i made y/n laugh so hard that she fell out of her chair, and she almost broke her neck, so i killed… almost.”

•••

after the whole falling out of your chair ordeal, you and ukai ended up banned from the establishment. you walked out of the place with suga, who had his eye on you incase your body threatened to let you fall again. you notice the cameras are on you on your way out, and with your trophy in hand, you yell to the camera.

“i just want to say… that this was the best night ever! WOO!” you say before tripping over your own feet.

“woah, careful!” suga quickly caught you, your eyes lingering onto each other’s gaze.

“…thank you.” you step away from suga’s gentle grasp. you really were porcelain, weren’t you?

the silence afterwards engulfed you both. your drunken mind was telling you to kiss him, but the part of you that started to sober up screamed no. you couldn’t. you can’t ruin this one good thing that’s yours.

“hey, how are you getting home tonight?” suga asked to break the silence.

“i, uh, didn’t think that part through.” you let out a dry laugh. you defiant behavior towards ryo earlier may have been a mistake as you knew he wouldn’t be here to pick you up later, but you always had suga to count on.

“well, i can take you home.” he offered. “didn’t exactly drink enough to get tipsy considering you kept stealing my drinks.”

“heh, sorry about that…” you look away, embarrassed over your previous behavior.

“actually, i wanted to ask you something…” suga paused, trying to figure out how to put it into words. “um, are you… doing okay? you seemed upset after ryo left.”

“i’m uh…” you hesitate, your head swirling. i’m harboring conflicting feelings for you despite being engaged to another man, you think to yourself, but you knew you couldn’t say that out loud. “i’m doing just fine.”

it wasn’t what suga wanted to hear, but he just had to accept it. “oh, okay. let’s get you home then.”

one way or another, sugawara koushi would be the death of you.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[prince-liest]

self-indulgent 3zun ABO AU because I like putting JGY into ~situations~

Alpha NMJ, beta LXC, and omega JGY who has been masquerading as a beta in typical ABO trope fashion, except the dramatic omega reveal happens way back when he murders the Nie captain and gets kicked out of Qinghe.

(I really do wonder what an ABO universe would do to them, psychosocially-speaking, considering that their major flaws can be pretty neatly sorted into “stereotypical” ABO roles that can be used to malign them: Nie Mingjue’s saber-induced anger issues and prior jumping to conclusions, Lan Xichen’s tendency to peacekeep with his loved ones and mold himself into a mediator to a fault, and Jin Guangyao’s....... entire existence as, basically, a tiny venomous snake.)

Present day is post-war Jinlintai before anyone I like (read: JYL, JZX) dies, where 3zun are forced to figure (just enough of) their shit out earlier—WAY earlier—and have been in not just a sworn brotherhood but a mate bond for a while now because in a world with synaesthesic scent markers and mating bites, you don’t get to take things like that back...

... At the very beginning of which bond, NMJ, still incensed and affected by Baxia's resentment, basically accepts the relationship on the bad-faith condition that JGY doesn't "pull any of that manipulative omega shit.” Would he say something like that about Nie Huaisang? No, but he’s just reaching for what hurts. When asked to elaborate on what that actually means, he doesn’t actually have anything in mind and thus rifles around in his mental sack of negative omega stereotypes for all of three seconds before clarifying that he’s talking about all that nonsense with baiting people with heats and baby trapping and whatnot.

JGY, the bitter little gremlin that he is, takes this the worst way possible and has since been taking heat suppressant ✨️indefinitely✨️. We all know how that goes. Maybe he runs out, maybe his body gives out, but most likely Jin Guangshan decides that getting JGY knocked up and too busy to politically machinate against him in addition to all the political machinating he’s doing for him is to his benefit, and arranges the botching of the preparation of whatever tea JGY takes to make this happen. Ideally right in time for NMJ and LXC to be at Jinlintai.

Except this isn’t a sexy, “Oh no, I’m a secret omega and I went into heat! My love must now ravish me!” story. Despite his best efforts, everyone already knows JGY is an omega. Despite his best accidental counterefforts, he technically has two mates already. And still, three hours into NMJ and LXC’s visit, when he realizes what is happening, he fucking panics.

Heat brain isn’t fun brain. Heat brain on top of the writhing bag of neurotic rats that runs JGY’s brain is worse. He’s fucking dead, he thinks. NMJ definitely hates omegas other than his brother (has he met any others? JGY can’t remember, which is terrifying, because JGY remembers everything), and only tolerates JGY’s omega-ness because he’s on suppressants. Da-ge is going to be so mad. And er-ge is going to have to mediate again. Unacceptable! Mortifying! Possibly not an issue because he thinks he might be having a heart attack and dying!

He spends two hours wedged into an emergency bolt-hole he built into his quarters while LXC sits outside going “pspspsps” and NMJ guiltily retrieves increasingly unfeasible amounts of food from the kitchens. It does not end up a sexy heat. It ends up a “hold the hyperventilating omega while he repeatedly forgets how to breathe” heat, because the body is not going to do sexy times while experiencing the most dramatic fight or flight instinct JGY has ever felt. Thanks, chemically-induced hormone imbalance.

(Da-ge turns out to be a good weighted blanket. Compression is good for the anxiety. And guilt turns out good for forcing people to talk things over.)

(And nobody gets pregnant.)

[inkdemonapologist]

what did you think of batdr?

So, grain of salt, at time of writing, I have not played or watched BatDR all the way through; I got it liveblogged to me by a friend (which honestly was an ideal experience) and then watched some cutscenes. INITIAL FEELINGS SUBJECT TO CHANGE.

When BatDR’s release date was announced, I told friends that I thought it was going to be a pretty tight balancing act – if BatDR was REALLY GOOD, it could kill the enthusiasm for the fandom; yknow, a lot of times when you get what you actually want out of a story, the fervour fades. If BatDR was REALLY BAD, I could become too embarrassed about this franchise and not enjoy playing in it anymore. It has to be the perfect balance of messy and unresolved, but not TOO sloppy or thoughtless, and unfortunately for my ability to stop thinking about it, I think it kinda nailed it. BatDR has some heartfelt and startlingly compelling ideas that it executes sort of incoherently, which makes it FASCINATING.

The joke I keep making is that it’s not a sequel, it’s not a prequel, it’s a fanfiction. And I don’t mean that as a diss – it has a fanfic off-the-rails willingness to commit to a wild, self-indulgent take and just go with it, and I think that’s great. But it’s also sort of… disconnected from the original BatIM, in a way? It doesn’t follow BatIM’s themes at all when you think about it. Conflicts and questions in the original game (the downfall of the Studio, Who Was The True Creator Of Bendy, etc.) are strangely brushed aside in this game, rather than developed or resolved. 

Which is why you get weird things like, there’s a REAL ACTUAL NEAR-PERFECT TOON BENDY wandering around, but the original BatIM characters (Joey, Henry, Sammy; people you’d expect to have some kind of big feelings about a true toon Bendy) don’t ever get to interact with him because their feelings on toon Bendy aren’t the point here. BatDR explains what the loop in BatIM was, but that’s not something you discover yourself, because the loop is obsolete now – it’s just explained briefly in order to get to the real focus of this game, Joey Drew having a daughter. Even before you get to timeline questions/possible inconsistencies, the game feels less to me like an actual sequel that builds on the previous game, and more like a neat AU with its own headcanons bouncing off of and interpreting the previous game. 

Anyway, some random specific thoughts that come to mind:

They really coulda done something with the family theme if they’d just had Wilson go ahead and say who he was early on. Why did that have to be a surprise? I don’t think saving it really added anything.

Everything about Audrey being Joey’s daughter is AMAZING and I can’t stop thinking about this. Absolutely fascinating development. Have a lot of conflicting feelings on how this was handled but THATS FOR ANOTHER POST; I really do like this, though.

"Something he had always wanted, but could never have: A family." SO JOEY'S LIKE, CANONICALLY GAY IN THE GAMES TOO NOW, RIGHT??? THAT'S PRETTY CLEAR CUT????? LIKE ITS THE MOST OBVIOUS REASON JOEY COULDNT HAVE A FAMILY BEFORE??? HES A GAY SINGLE DAD!!!!

I RLY LIKE THE DESIGNS FOR HENRY AND JOEY. I was surprised to find that the way my brain parsed them was like, they’re the designs for the BatDR AU. Like BatDR is a new fan showing off their designs for their crew, and I’m drawing fanart for their cool AU.

The Ink Demon/ Bendy stuff uh, resolved very strangely. Am very into Bendy and the Ink Demon being the same entity but wish that had been explored a little more!

I actually like Sammy’s cameo(s). I’ve always gotten the feeling that the creators of BatIM were never entirely sure what we all saw in Sammy, so if they didn’t have anything they were particularly hyped to do with him, I think cameos were the right call. The Subject 418 moment is PERFECT. NO NOTES. His 5 seconds before getting shot at the end is like, it’s silly that he died immediately and we all joke about it, but also there’s an element of OH, IM SO GLAD HE GOT TO BE HERE FOR THIS for me, too.

GENT being all OOOOO LOOK AT ALL THEIR SUPER UNETHICAL SCIENCE, LOOK HOW SINISTER THEY ARE is kinda uninteresting to me. Something like, a single audiolog going “huh, that’s weird, when GENT left for their new building, all the ink left, too….” would be way more unsettling than explicit confirmation of GENT taking over and doing lethal human experimentation. And like, idk, I feel one of the things that made BatIM compelling was that it had all these spooky tropes, but motivated by a startlingly mundane desire – people believing in a cartoon so strongly that it accidentally veers into unhinged science and dark occult worship along the way. As soon as they’re just doing normal unethical science with ambiguous motives that seem totally disconnected from the studio, it becomes kinda generic.

Nothing about Wilson is coherent, to the extent that I honestly wonder if the original plan for Wilson was different and he had to be shuffled around for some reason.

What else happened in this game….. Im glad alice got a murder party but I don’t know why she’s here. That One Scene with her and Allison feels very fanservicey but not in a bad way lmao.

Probably other stuff but I think this post is long enough!!

[franciskirkland]

I hope you don’t mind me being a self indulgent little goblin but: thoughts/hcs on fruk being grandparents to the states :3 ?

Vinny is Fran’s favorite and I will die on this hill even if nobody comes to kill me over it UwU

girl please this is the self-indulgence website never apologize <3 i have so many thoughts about them being grandparents idek how to articulate them on demand.

when it comes to his grandkids arthur is... an odd mix of distant and overbearing. i wouldn't quite call it tough love (tough love takes too much effort) and he's so goddamn scared of hurting or disappointing them. ultimately of course he wants to be involved. but the relations will never not be strained. sorry if that's not as fluffy as you wanted 😭

the states who are old enough to remember england at his most powerful absolutely have beef with how he treated their mother, but to the younger ones he's moreso this weird old man with an almost mythological aura attached to him; who sometimes knits them stuff and they have no idea how he possibly bagged his GILF of a wife

you KNOW fran spoils the hell out of those kids. but he's not just there for the fun parts tho, like giving gifts and dressing them up and baking with them. one thing i think about fran is although he is very much a carefree type, he becomes more of a worrier the older he gets and that translates to fussing over the grandkids. arthur can be like this too, as a way of overcompensating, but fran is much more hands-on with them than arthur bc well... he doesn't have the same baggage as arthur does about screwing up his daughter.

i'd actually love to continue writing that fic for u about fran and arthur taking vinny in during a rough patch to give abby a well-deserved break

speaking in terms of ur statetalia AU since fran isn't related to abby i think he grows closer with her through being a grandparent figure to the states, if that makes sense. and through that he tries to be a post-development maternal influence on abby herself despite the damage arthur has kinda done to her with his parenting or lack thereof.

vinny absolutely is mémé's favorite they have soo much in common (fabulosity skips a generation ig uwu) i don't think anybody is arguing against this.... but also like... here's a question. what do u think about francophone/french-influenced states like louisiana and maine??

[preseriesdean]

happy ww svenja! time to put sam and dean in more situations. if you could make them play the main characters in a different story, in which tv series/movie/book/whatever would you put them? any specific scene you’d love to see them do?

happy wincest wednesday suzy!!

i love this question 💗 and if anyone knows anything about me at all my answer will come as no surprise, because it’s star wars. maybe a bit uninspired (considering kripke literally called spn "star wars in truck stop america") but i am just... not an au person, have never really been, so for something like that to work for me it has to be as seamless as possible, which i think it could be, and it has to be something i love already anyway. (i may or may not have thought about this before, lengthily, in my notes app) it’s very self-indulgent and mainly an aesthetic (which is one of my main sources of enjoyment anyway) change, but hear me out.

and it’s not a crossover, which i fuck with even less than aus (criminal minds being the only acceptable option. maybe the x-files if i had watched it). i don’t want samdean to meet princess leia or fight palpatine or anything like that, and i don’t want dean to be han solo or sam to be luke (which-- sam is obviously anakin, but that’s a different post that is still half-finished in my drafts somewhere). i just want to pluck them from the highway and drop them in the star wars universe and have them roam around the galaxy in their old but perfectly-working ship and be the outlaws they are, in some indeterminate era. i need their backstory to be much of the same to keep the isolation and codependency of their childhood that is crucial to them and my interpretation of them.

they’d be something like bounty hunters? the backstory would still fit: mary is killed and john makes it his goal to find the ones responsible, and then sort of just branches out and becomes a hired gun, taking his sons with him. the grit and grime and rest- and homelessness that i love about the early seasons can be found in the outer rim, and i can so see how dean would feel right at home in that dark and messy underbelly of civilization. he takes care of their ship and has known like fifty evasion maneuvers since he was twelve and is notoriously good at sabacc. sam gets attached to certain planets until he makes himself stop; lived in the core worlds for a couple of years, but that didn’t work out, obviously.

there’s also something to be said i think about him being force-sensitive (again. hello anakin) and either fated to fulfill some sith destiny or somehow tempted by the dark side. i mean, sam full of rage and energy with yellow eyes and towering over dean, rocks and debris floating or whirling around him while smoke rises from flames licking at the ground around them, and dean just looking at him on his knees and going “come back to me, sammy” and sam actually managing to find his way down from that force-induced hysteria? or NOT finding his way back, killing the one he loves most (love that little padme moment for dean)? it’d work.

and since it’s wincest wednesday (because they would be allowed to be in love on this show that’s airing inside my head, obviously) and i love cheesy things sometimes: another scene i’d love to see is them running guns blazing from some sort of enemy to their ship, dean powering it up and sam shooting until the doors close, climbing into the cockpit as dean takes off into the air, entering hyperspace a little early but he knows what he’s doing so it all works out, and them looking at each other with the lights of a billion stars breezing past, leaning across the little gap between the pilot and co-pilot seats and grinning into a kiss all high on adrenaline, riding off into a bright blue-white sunset <3

[lem-argentum]

hello here is THE official overview of all lemmy argentum selfship aus (or the ones that came to mind at this moment). <3

COSDOUGMEG

doug & meg actually have the least amount of aus out of these f/os, because i almost always imagine them in either their original universe or real life with me! but there is one that’s developed <3

-castle cr.ashers. it is hit hack-and-slash game castle cr.ashers. i take the place of red knight and meg takes the place of the blue princess. we’re together before the plot starts and they avoid getting kidnapped so we go through everything together <3. eventually we meet doug who has the role of the conehead groom, we defeat him and he begrudgingly joins us, we have an enemies-to-lovers journey, the end <3. i’m very fond of this silly au because doug is very cute when you put her in a situation like this :) also cosmeg adventures!!!!!! <333

LEMPROM

we have some!!! our dynamic/development are similar in most of them, it’s mostly messing with the world/circumstances where we meet :) <3

-ff.xv plotless au. this is the main lemprom universe actually. basically all of The Tragedy doesn’t happen because it would BREAK. MY HEART.!!!!!! it’s my fun self-indulgent universe where no one is in immediate peril <3.

-ff.ix au!!!!!!!!!! NOT developed but you can probably tell from my blog that i love combining prom and ff.ix (my icon is him in a colorswapped vivi outfit :>) SO <3. i just think “i wish to be kidnapped right away.” “wh-!! okay!!!” is the PERFECT dynamic introduction so prom takes zidane’s general role and i take dagger’s. <3 :) i like thinking about prom in a tantalus-type group because he’d be a really fun dramatic actor and a very cute thief (“well i guess it’s a good thing *somebody* got the keys to the whole fortress ;)” <- ONE OF MY FAVORITE LINES) <3 i don’t know how the whole story goes but i just love the concept so <333.

-p.okemon :] <3. this one’s also just a concept. i’m a trainer and prom works at a daycare. he has a doduo and a rotom, i have an ampharos and a mime jr. <3 (i’d have to channel old pkmn knowledge to think of full teams but those are the main ones.)

-OH YEAH college au. prom’s a photography major, i’m an illustration major, we meet through art classes and meet up to work on things together and model/pose for each other and ahmfndmfkd <3333. i have a scene pre-relationship where i visit prom’s dorm and go “:0 is that…. a picture of me on your corkboard??” and he has to be like “UH . WELL, THE LIGHTING IN THAT ONE WAS NICE, SO—” HFNDJ <333

CHRENO

SIGH this is gonna be the longest section. since they’re on opposing sides in their og ff.vii universe there are a lot of complexities that come with it, and the aus are mostly playing around with that by getting rid of that element completely……..

-turk!chrome au. this one’s kind of simple it just means they work together instead of against each other, and also the number of possible scenarios goes up a lot because of the close proximity. ciss.nei is also present in this au and her n chrome are both turk partners and qpps!!!!!

-octo.path 2. INITIALLY in this au chrome n reno were both thieves (chrome being dancer class who was also story-wise a thief, reno being actual thief class) who because of Unlikely Situations ended up being traveling partners, but THEN i realized HEY. WHY DIDNT I MAKE RENO A BLACKSNAKE. so he’s a blacksnake now. i don’t know why i didn’t think of that he’z literally a new delsta guy. and there are jester npcs in new delsta!!! so chrome can fit in pretty well without having to change much about him. i really like the vibe of this one but parts of it give me emotionz . you get it. moving on,

-i did think of a b.aldur’s gate 3 au. i guess it’s similar to the scrapped octo.path one.. they’re both rogues (chrome arcane trickster, reno assassin), meet after the tadpole debacle and decide trying to cure it together is the best option. (it might be in-character for reno to be like Eh. if i die i die *walks off alone* but i’m not lettinf him do that they’re doing this together somehow. maybe when they do the tadpole mind-connect thing he sees something interesting from chrome’s past and is like hmmm. i dunno.) this one is mostly for funny dnd moments (they’re my comedy ship after all.) such as chrome being like “uh no i don’t trust you to disarm that i’ll do it.” n reno being like “you sure?” and then chrome crit-failing and them standing there in silence with the blinded status effect. (“…see, i knew that was gonna h-” “don’t say anything.”)

-HFNDJ I JUST REMEMBERED I MADE THEM A GHOST TR.ICK AU. I DONT REMEMBER THE DEAL WITH IT HOLD ON. it was like . chrome died and became a ghost like s.issel……. and found reno dead too, used his ghost tricks to save him and ended up helping him with his shady real life work stuff …… ? it conflicts with regular chrome’s morals but if you mess with it the concept is really fun. ghost partner in crime. mind communication shenanigans. i wanted to draw fake screenshots for them in the art style hfndj i should do that sometime.

-oh i do have a rune f.actory au for them i guess. just in concept though <3. i can’t think of??? many canon rf charas that act similar to reno?? but he would have leon-esque dialogue humor-wise (AGH). and if chrome is the protag, giving him supposed “disliked items” does nothing because he just thinks it’s funny. game mechanic where you CANNOT lower this guy’s affection . i don’t think he would be affiliated with the sechs empire but he would have something mysterious like that going on… and he wouldn’t say much about himself so maybe his heart points would be capped lower ‘til a certain point like doug’s are??? and he wouldn’t tell you what gifts he likes either. there’d be a dialogue branch like “so what do you like, then. :/” “where’s the fun in that? try figuring it out.” and then his reactions to gifts onward would change based on that. (“really? thought you knew me better than that.”) (“hey, you’re gettin’ warmer!”) (“you’re puttin’ a lot of effort into this game. almost like you *care* about givin’ me shit.” “UH, *NO—*”)

[hammerhead-jpg]

cacophony/cataclysm Vega consept(?)

So there is this kinda concept/fanfic idea (although I don’t think it has enough substance for me to write a fic about it, even if it did, I don’t think I have the energy to write like a 35 chapter fic) not really an AU, and not really a theory just jumbled “what if”s, so I decided to share it here

Warning, this might seem a little juvenile and self-indulgent since it’s basically a sad backstory for the brutish villain but just so you know, I am well aware that this very sad boy backstory doesn’t excuse his wrong doings.

And also, I ramble a lot, so this will be long

This story I've cooked up in my head is all based of this mini theory i have that Vega is as old as the cacophony (the war between the Sovereigns and the humans and deamons) which would make him like hundreds of years old. This theory of mine doesn’t have much backing it up besides it would be good writing for his character because of his line “you want to know how time and circumstance might lead someone here.” (and I’ll talk about that later)

Idk, the reason why he's like 120% sure that the Sovereigns are real and why he knows so much information about them despite the story being majorly seen by de(a)mons as just a myth/folklore might be because he was actually there, but again that might just be like saying every crazy Christian is actually Jesus Christ in secret so idk

I mean his age is never specified in the timeline and the only reason something might not be on the timeline is because a) It’s not important enough or b) Erik is hiding it for future events and I don’t think Vega is an unimportant character

But then again maybe this is just a safe assumption and I’m just stupid or maybe this is a purely out of the blue theory with dogwater evidence and in that case I’m still stupid

But this is where theory ends and my daydreaming a story into existing begins.

In my mind, the cacophony happens in ancient Rome

Ancient because, It obviously didn’t happen in the close past since it’s regarded as myth and Vega while talking to Warden about it calls the humans “ancient humans” and the Rome part? Well... this is more of me throwing a pin dart at a board

I first thought it was ancient Greece since that’s where myths of deamons originated (in this world they would be based on the de(a)mons we know and not just folktale) but now I decided It’s ancient Rome because I have a theory that the de(a)mon language that Avior talks about in his story is actually Latin because most if not all de(a)mon names we have seen are Latin, so I guess in this world humans learned the language from de(a)mons? (also in the imp AU the first ever king of the imperium is named “Emil” which is a Latin name and we know that the imperium was formed some time after the cacophony) and I know that a lot of other countries spoke Latin at that time but whatever

But again, this is just me taking a stab in the dark, I could be completely wrong

So in my concept, Vega is born out of the elision well right as the conflict is starting. The Sovereigns have all gone to Elegy and now deamons are stuck in Aria without any source of energy. Vega manages to create a rift of his own and travels to Elegy (not saying that he’s the first deamon to make a rift to Elegy, just that he figured out how to do it himself, if that’s even possible).

When he first entered Elegy, he was hit with major sensory overload from experiencing new colors and shapes and hearing and smell and touch an all of that. But after he recovers, he goes exploring of this new plane of existence. Soon after, he sees a human being tortured by a Sovereign who’s experimenting on them, trying to give them powers. Now, in this point in time, Vega is not the human-hating unfeeling person that we know him as now. Then, I imagine he had you know, this thing called empathy (but I don’t want to completely scrap his personality, so imagine him how he was in the imp AU, just still, less sadistic).

He might have been on this plane for like 5 minutes but he can clearly sense the emotions of agony from the human

He goes in to defend the human, and while the Sovereign could have easily smushed him then and there, they didn’t, and instead just left since their work was done.

This human is in my mind, kinda like a fellow listener (since I don’t have the balls to call them an oc), so I will refer to them as listener.

When listener awakes, Vega is still with them and even though first they’re scared and confused, they quickly realized that the creature before them meant no harm (and this was ancient times so a demon isn’t as an outlandish concept as it was back then).

At first, it’s difficult for them to communicate since they don’t speak the same language and Vega is communicating trough telepathy and doesn’t even know how to make a sound with his vocal cords.

(and also the listener has powers now and I didn’t decide what kind)

But soon enough, they learn to speak each other's language and Vega starts living along side humans with the other deamons. The humans are reasonably afraid of them at first, but quickly start cherishing them as powerful beings they could lean on (similarly to how they were portrayed in ancient Greek mythology).

As the humans and the deamons plan their rebellion against the Sovereigns, Vega and the listener get closer and eventually fall in love, aww, how cute

But it’s not all sunshine and rainbows, since the war comes, and the listener needs to join and use their new found magical powers.

Sadly, they end up dying in the war by the hands of a Sovereign, and Vega lives. After the war is over he is distraught, but life goes on and he continues living.

Through the years Vega sees it all. He sees the slow shift between humans and de(a)mons being allies, to the humans hatred towards de(a)mons (probably because the rise of Christianity where deamons go from being seen as basically any magical entity to evil helpers of Satan). He sees the people he risked his life to protect slowly turn against him for reasons he doesn’t know. Now because of the new title of “sadism demon” humans and fellow de(a)mons judge him. And at one point he stops caring. He stops caring about being seen as evil and he stops caring about humans. All of them seem to wish him ill and any potential ones that don’t will die some day.

He now probably can’t even remember the voice or the face of the human he loved, he probably forgot they even existed.

And that’s how Vega became Vega

Really a “you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself turn into the villain” situation.

You could also make the scenario that he is intrigued by Warden since they remind him of the human deep down, Stranger to Lovely reincarnation and all that jazz, and I’m sure that Brachium could fit in the story too since we know that he is also as old as the cacophony (maybe he’s the steward that relayed the situation to Vega, idk!) 

Also i imagine that in the imp! au the same thing happened just the listener didn’t die in the war, but they still had to part ways since the de(a)mons made the decision to just chill in Aria and never speak to the humans again. Which is also why he was a lot nicer to humans in the AU, since he wasn’t there to see all the bad shit they’ve done.

But this is defiantly just some brain vomit that I came up, but that being said if you like this story or have any ideas of your own let me know! I’d love to hear it

 now, enjoy some delightfully quick and messy concept art I made!

ohhh Vega’s “birth” soo mysterious

I know Elegy is like a “something the human mind can’t comprahend” kind of thing so I just wanted to capture the feeling

Idk how y’all imagine the sovereigns, I imagine them as giant eldritch horror monsters!

Yes Vega was naked when he first entered Elegy, long story

His eyes glow red cuz in the first imp!AU video he describes them as “like glowing embers in the dark” or something like that, probably didn’t mean it litterally, but oh well

oop they got squished by a Soveregn, sad

[sunnibits]

Yo for the OC ask meme, give us the multiples of five~ (for da meaterie)

SHSHGSHAHA NOT THE MEATERIE

hell yeah dude let’s GO

5. How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?:

Huh… Depends on what it is I guess?? I would say pretty far, considering his questionable sense of morals and selfish attitude, but he also kind of fucking sucks at getting what he wants so I feel like he’s sorta used to disappointment at this point HSGSHHS

He will kill probably people though :)))

10. What’s an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?:

OOOOH okay this is a very fun thing to consider, I haven’t really put any thought into putting Dimitri into any AU’s yet! I mean, my first thought is just “any of them” bc anything with Dimitri is infinitely fun for me,, hmmm….. OOOH oh oh! You know what would be really fun would be like a sci-fi AU of some kind! Like space smuggler/pirate vibes almost… he would be the sneaky dude who hacks into security systems and rides around in some sleek stolen ship. And then our whole party can be ragtag space crew members :D Ayesha could be the grizzled mechanic maybe, Lark is the pilot…..

15. Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?:

Hmm… nope, not really! I don’t really tend to do faceclaims for my OCs. I mean, he is definitely based off of MCU Loki a weeeee bit (lie), but I am trying to find ways to differentiate him from that :))

20. Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?:

Ooo… I would say yes, for sure, as much as he would rather die than show it. Specifically, I feel like he gets jealous of the nice things that other people have, and the nice lives they get to live. He was never really given anything nice, and he had a rough fucking upbringing, so I think sometimes he sees other people wearing their soft fancy clothes with their rich opulent food and their loving families, and he just wishes he could fucking have that so bad. But he doesn’t even want to admit to himself that he feels that way, never mind admitting it to other people, so he’s learned to just turn all that jealousy into anger instead and sort of turn his chin up at soft fancy comforts (soooo izzycore of him honestly) when in reality I think he wants all of those things <33

25. What is your favorite thing about your OC?:

Ohhh, that’s such a hard one! Especially because like, Dimitri was specifically designed to be very self indulgent. I basically told myself when I started, “okay, you can worry as much as you want about being all unique and original with your DnD character in your second campaign. for now though, it’s your first fucking campaign, we are going to go as self indulgent as physically possible and who gives a shit if he’s just like everyone else’s character!!” So yknow, for me that meant making the roguish sexy tiefling I had always dreamed of playing, and leaning as hard into the Loki inspo as I wanted to lmao. Point being, with that in mind I kind of love all of him - the design, the vibes, the Gender™️ and all that - but really thinking about it, I think my favorite thing about him is just like,,, how actually developed he is? Like, I’ve been making OCs for years and years, but for some reason I can just never fucking manage to develop an OC beyond the most bare minimum of basic concepts before I get bored of them, and it drives me so insane. It has really felt like I would never have an OC that was anywhere near fleshed-out. But then I started playing this campaign, and I made a really self indulgent character, and I actually had this other person in the form of my DM pushing me to think about him more and give him a story, and the sessions keep renewing my interest in him every week, so it’s like?? Actually the perfect fucking cocktail of motivations to finally make my stupid adhd brain function enough to maintain interest in an OC? And I’m so fucking happy about it??? Like he actually has fucking depth now and themes and motivations and symbolism?????? And I love it so much??? And I mean sure, he’s absolutely nowhere near as developed as some other people’s OCs, there’s still a lot of shit I have to figure out…. but still, he’s easily far beyond anything I’ve ever reached before with my OC’s, and I am utterly fucking ecstatic about it.

Oh wow that was a lot uhh sorry for rambling but augh I just love him so much and I’m so so proud of myself for making him and putting in all the effort that I have 🥰🥰 I can’t can’t CAN’T wait to keep playing him and developing him and exploring his story and working with my wonderful DM to keep him growing 🥰🥰🥰

[xhangkyuns]

hehehe hi! it's your turn!! 😝 7, 11, 18, 24, 39, 43, 77

uh oh besties it’s the consequences of my own actions!

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

When Vegas gently releases his wrists, Pete has a brief moment of thinking that he fucked it all up, but then there is a hand on his cheek, soft and strong and comforting all at once. It remains gentle, running along his jaw, his pulse point, before settling securely around his throat.

His other hand slides under Pete’s shirt, finding the warm skin of his waist. He doesn’t push or pull, just rests there, steady and gentle but not quite enough. Closer, Pete thinks, pull me closer.

11. Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

feeling very called out rn! you know how i write fics and the answer is very very messily! i have adhd so i always jump around — i’ll be writing one thing, then think of something completely unrelated and have to get it down before i forget. in some (read: all) rough drafts, i’ll have a million bits and pieces of unfinished sentences floating around. even while writing this it’s very out of order. the issue with this, though, is that i’ll write a future scene, then be unsure how to connect them — or i’ll end up going in a different direction altogether :’)

i’ve been making an effort to stop worrying about what i’m writing and just let the thoughts flow, which definitely makes a difference in terms of how much i jump around scenes.

18. Do you enjoy research? Which fic of yours required the most research?

oop was it bad that my first thought was about my long ass unfinished doctor who fic from years ago? i love that fandom but there’s just so much lore.

i do enjoy researching to an extent; it really depends on how interested i am in the topic. i guess that’s also the adhd huh. i think sometimes research feels too much like a uni assignment for me, but at the same time i can be a perfectionist about accuracy so 🤷‍♀️

24. How do you choose whose POV to write in?

i guess it really depends on whose mind i want to explore. but sometimes i don’t think i even consciously choose whose pov i’ll write, instead the character climbs into my brain and takes the reins. i’m kinda a sucker for a single pov unreliable narrator, but that’s a flaw i’m working on jhfgshj

39. What’s your most self-indulgent wip?

hmm. maybe not the most self indulgent, but my most personal wip rn is (what will hopefully be) a series delving into vegas’ mindset post-canon — heavy on the healing from trauma. it’ll be about as painful and therapeutic as you’re thinking.

i also have some unhinged vegaspete smut in the works, and am planning a longer chay-centric post-canon macauchay fic, with a lot of found family and learning to stand up for himself. so those are pretty damn self indulgent too.

43. Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

uhhh everything? jhgshds well i have a long list of fic ideas that i’d like to tackle eventually. a few ~classic tropes~ on there include a soulmate au, sugar daddy au, and some cheeky magical realism. would also love to write a time loop fic and and good old whump too.

77. Why do you enjoy writing fanfiction?

i get to put my favourite characters??? in any situation ever? ??? no but.. i guess at the moment i love exploring all the different possibilities we never got to see in canon. i love getting into characters’ heads and learning about them and myself in the process. and sometimes i just love writing my favourite characters fuck nasty.

hehe thank you for the ask im love you 💓

[cheridraws]

So y’all apparently liked the danganronpa digimon au art sooo

Here are all the kids’ ✨ partners ✨

I say all of them but like. there’s 30+ kids so I only did some please bare with me agsjdhssk

Dr 1 Kids:

Chihiro: Tentomon

I love me some computer kids with bugs hehe. I think they’d get along rlly well and Tentomon would be super impressed with Chihiro’s computer skills. Also it gives me Izzy vibes

Mondo: Labramon

DOG. PINK AND WHITE DOG. I think he’d absolutely love Labramon. He definitely has some hesitation at the beginning because it doesn’t look manly at all but shhh that’s his character growth :]

Kiyotaka: Gaomon

Punchy wolf who adheres to rules/his own code… sounds familiar hehe. I’m specifically thinking of Thomas’s Gaomon but like.. in a different font. Taka would freak the fuck out over keeping a ‘pet’ on school grounds tho lmao. Also this made me think of the fact that one of Taka’s fav gifts in dr1 was boxing gloves… hehe

Kyoko: Kudamon

Cool, calm, collected. Again, I’m thinking of the one from Data Squad. Kyoko would be standoffish but I think she’d warm up to the little guy quickly. Also….neck rest hehe

Makoto: Agumon

Obligatory Agumon, but honestly I think it fits pretty well too. Confident and friendly, and not afraid to rush head-on into things :]

Byakuya: Renamon

YEAH. Hear me out: I’m thinking it would be similar to Rika’s. Strict relationship with their partner, basically just another of Byakuya’s tools. Only at first, of course, they warm up to each other eventually. Also I think it’s funny to give him a fox girl hehe

Celeste: BlackPawnchessmon

She’s got an aesthetic going on!! She needs a partner similar to that, and what’s better than a little chess-piece set guy?

Aoi: Betamon

It’s a little excitable fish. What’s more perfect than that?

(Currently also debating on what to give Sayaka and Leon so wait a bit for those)

———-

Dr 2 Kids

Hajime: Patamon

YES this one gets me very excited!! They just fit together okay I can’t explain it but it makes me unreasonably happy. Also the fact that Patamon evolves into holy digimon and I want an Izuru arc makes me unwell in the best way possible

Nagito: Impmon

HEAR ME OUT. Little unlucky imp meets unwell lucky guy. Also I think their vibes mix pretty well together

Kazuichi: Hagurumon

It’s. it’s a floating gear. that digvolves into a robot. Literally what is more perfect. Kazuichi would be scared at first but they’d warm up to each other :] Also thinking about making him hella chill to balance out Kazuichi’s anxiety.

Fuyuhiko: Gabumon

Super loyal little guy whose also really nice and friendly meets very emotionally constipated yakuza. Match made in heaven.

<— is also digging the idea of fuyuhiko being upset at being given another ‘tool’…

Chiaki: Wormmon

A super friendly, soft-spoken worm. Sounds like he and Chiaki would get along :] Also, again, computer kids with bugs makes me very happy

Sonia: Bakemon

A nasty little freak? For a princess?? 100% yeah. Not only does it subvert from what you’d expect from a princess’s partner, but it’s also literally a ghost and would make her occult-loving self extremely happy. They watch horror movies together<3

Gundham: Lopmon

Mmmm Gundham was hard to pick for, but I’m thinking that this guy will work. Hear me out: chill little rabbit friend with our lovable overlord of ice. It likes to go along with his theatrics :]

Peko: Falcomon

Sword woman and ninja-bird. Yep yep they’ll work, hehe. Fr tho, I think these two’s personalities mesh pretty well. Another ‘tool’ situation, but they’ll break out of that mindset with some help

…okay I’m done now

[peachsayshi]

they notice you’re not wearing a bra 

(jjk x f!reader) - minors and ageless blogs dni

(Gojo, Geto, Mei Mei, Utahime) - Non Sorcerer AU.

a/n: Thank you @sixeyesgojo for enabling me & my chaotic ideas! <3 Now, I want to preface this by saying that I know boobs come in all shapes and sizes, and this isn’t the most inclusive reader insert but I try not to allude to too many details? I hope you till enjoy this!  this is also kind of self indulgent considering I hate wearing bras -shoutout to @shadowsorceress for the ideas for Geto & Utahime! 

I’ll be posting for the other characters. I have ideas written out for the rest but these are the completed quick drabbles! hehe

tags: nipple play, mentioned (unprotected sex), smut

-> GOJO

Your boyfriend has a fixation with touching you whenever you are together. When in public, his hand always finds itself protectively holding you by the waist or his fingers intertwine themselves around yours. Even in the privacy of your own apartment, Satoru still manages to get himself as close to you as possible.

You weren’t surprised when you felt him slip his hands underneath your loose black t-shirt, gently massaging the flesh of your stomach as you nestled your back closer against his chest.

You should have told him to stop, to pay attention to the movie playing on the screen, but even you couldn’t deny how naturally you softened against his touch. Mapping his way up your chest, Gojo extends his long digits before cupping your breasts in the palm of his hand. His eyes widen with shock, surprised that he wasn’t met with the familiar texture of lace or cotton.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he states obviously, his thumb swiping over your nipple at the same time and you shiver while unintentionally rubbing over his length.

“My back was hurting, I didn’t need the added strain today,” you hum calmly, allowing yourself to mold into the frame of his body.

He hides his amused grin, biting the inside of his cheek instead as he tweaks your nipples between his thumb and index finger.

“Let me help you relax then, Angel,” he coos sweetly, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he buries his cock inside you and pumping out every last drop of his release deep in your cunt.

-> GETO

Suguru sees two buds poking against the fabric of your fitted black crop top. He wets his lips, feeling his dick twitch in his pants as he holds back his smile. He couldn’t help but take cheeky glances at you, paying attention to the way your breasts bounced lightly with each of your movements. 

You’ve just proven the suspicious question that’s been crossing his mind all day.

He wasn’t going to bring it up, of course, but he also wasn’t going to confess that he turned down the temperature of his apartment just to make sure of his little hunch. 

“Did it get colder in here?” you wondered before squeezing your breasts together as you crossed your arms over each other.

“I don’t think so,” you partner fibs, suppressing a giggle as he sees you fidget on the opposite side of the sofa. “Why? Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s just a little chilly…” you reply with a pout.

He flicks his middle and index finger towards him, “C’mere…”

You crawl your way over, your legs straddle themselves around his own and you fold into his strong body as he pulls you closer for a hug.

“I can think of a few things that might warm you up…”

All it took were a few teasing touches from him to have you in the current state you were in - with your cropped tee resting comfortably above your chest, while you roughly bounced on his cock as little droplets of sweat trickled between the valley of your breasts.

-> MEI MEI

“I bet you’re not wearing anything underneath that dress,” Mei Mei teases, her crimson stained lips spreading from ear to ear as she backs you into her desk. 

You stare at her with sheer irritation, swallowing the lump in your throat and squeezing your thighs close together. 

Of course she would notice but that was your intention in the first place. 

“That’s not important to you...” you lied.

“Why because you plan on getting lucky tonight with whoever it is you’re meeting? Admit it, you didn’t get dolled up to see me to say that we areover. You’re here for the other reason…”

She takes her index fingers and curls them underneath the thin straps of your dress. Your heart starts racing rapidly, your breath growing more erratic as you dug your nails onto the wooden counter. 

“I have a date tonight,” you reminded her, but your voice sounded pathetic as you barely got out that sentence with the same amount of conviction you did when you first walked into her office. “I just wanted you to hear it from me that’s all.” 

“You could have told me this at any point in our day, but you choose to do it just as you’re about to leave,” she giggles while rolling the straps down your shoulders, “it’s so cute how easy you are to read, trying to make me jealous just because I had to cancel our last few meetings together.” 

You didn’t want to admit how tired you were of this hot and cold game. You refused to confess how anguishing it has been without her intimacy, and how often you stayed up late at night just hoping she would call you. 

You felt your breasts spill out your dress, crying out a whimpered “oh” when you felt her wet tongue swirled around your nipple. 

“It’s a shame you won’t make it tonight,” she teases with a gratified sigh. “You and I still have a lot of things to discuss…” 

Her free hand slides up your inner thigh, guiding themselves further until she pressed her fingers against your soaked panties.

“Starting with this.”

-> UTAHIME

Utahime takes another sip of her wine as her eyes fall to your chest. The white robe you were wearing started to unravel when you switched your position on top of the bed, and while you were distracted trying not to spill any wine on the luxury sheets of the hotel room, Utahime was busy ogling the outline of your cleavage. 

Her natural instinct should have been to reach her hand forward and adjust your top for you, but instead she gulped down the dry red and felt her cheeks warm up at the thought of you being naked underneath all that fluffy fabric. 

She tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, feeling the tips of her ears grow hot as her mind turns a little hazy.

She was desperate to push it over your shoulders, to see what you looked like underneath and feel how soft your skin felt against her touch. She would move her fingers gracefully like she was drawing circles on water, watch the goosebumps ripple across your skin as before trailing a line down to your navel, further and further until she reached the band of your underwear…

“Uta? Are you alright” 

A tiny gasp escaped her when she felt your breath brush across her face. 

She didn’t realize that you had moved closer, holding her cheek in your palm as you looked into her eyes with concern. 

“Your face is all red,” you state with worry, and carefully remove the wine glass away from her grasp. “Maybe we should call it a night.” 

[just-come-baek]

bet on it

Pairing: Na Jaemin x female!reader

Themes: smut | fluff | kidna cracky | light angst | fake dating!au | college!au | idiots to lovers!au | love letters

Word count: 21.2k 

Summary: One day, Jaemin stops by with a strange request. Any other person would just laugh in his face and refuse in a second. Unfortunately, I, being the dumbass I am, agree to it. Soon enough, everything gets out of hand, causing much more drama than we could ever predict.

Or in other words, Jaemin shouldn’t bet on things he knows he can’t win.

Warnings: all characters share like 3 brain cells, and somehow they all belong to Ten??? | self-indulgent type 3 diabetes fluff | cursing | mutual pining | college duties negligence | scheming and plotting | double-crossing | hookup culture condoning | corny and cringy stuff | alcohol consumption | smoking | extreme winter sports | amateur matchmaking | professional wooing | manipulative behaviour | steamy smut | oral female!receiving | thigh riding | spanking | marking | overstimulation | protected sex | lots of teasing | made up warnings | I don’t remember more

A/N it’s an instalment for love letters event hosted by neosmutcollective, I hope you enjoy my jaemin entry as well as other entries written by my friends from the network, check out the event tags too, and yeah, happy valentine's day!  😏  💖

***

“What?” I yelled, almost spitting my tea. No, I must’ve heard him wrong. Jaemin wouldn’t be stupid enough to do that. It had to be a joke. Or I must’ve imagined him say that. “You don’t mean that,” I added, still in shock, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“Come on, Noona,” Jaemin whined, staring right into my eyes, wishing for me to say yes to his ridiculous proposal. “I wouldn’t suggest that if I knew we couldn’t pull through.”

With a sigh, I shook my head. Jaemin’s proposition was absurd, and I couldn’t believe I was about to ask him again to walk me through it.

Damn me and my curiosity.

“Before I make my mind about this… tell me what the fuck led you guys to make that stupid bet. Then, and only then, I will still say no, but in good faith,” I demanded, smiling at Jaemin, knowing I wouldn’t make it easy for him to convince me. The odds weren’t in his favor, and he really had to put in lots of effort if he really wanted me on board.

“So we were chilling after practice, and then Haechan started to tease me that I have no game anymore,” Jaemin started, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, I should’ve figured it out. A man in his age apparently is a failure unless he has a different girl in his bed at least 3 nights a week, moaning his name at the top of her voice. Even though Jaemin doesn’t have a competitive nature, it still provoked him into agreeing to this absurd bet.

Life must be though with an ego so fragile…

Jaemin isn’t a fuckboy, yet he still has a fair share of love conquests. Though I had no idea whether it was true or not, he must have fallen a little behind the others – otherwise, they wouldn’t tease him about it.

“And then I said his mother must’ve dropped him on the head if he really thinks that,” Jaemin carried on. I nodded my head, trying to wrap my head around this preposterous situation. “Then, I said I could seduce any girl I want,” he added proudly, making me want to flicker his forehead, hoping it would knock some sense into that empty skull at the top of his neck.

“Okay, but how the hell did you end up with having to seduce me? This is the part I have the most trouble understanding,” I pointed out, cocking my eyebrow.

“Then, Chenle suggested we bet on it, and I agreed to it,” Jaemin whispered, looking away, sounding both regretful and shy. “I urged them to pick any girl, so Haechan looked around to choose my next conquest. It was the time when you and Ten were walking to the dance studio, and that bastard suggested you.”

So it was Haechan’s doing – I should’ve figured this one out. He was the only one wicked enough to possibly ruin somebody’s friendship because of a stupid bet.

Or, it was quite genius of him – maybe he figured Jaemin would not cross this line, choosing our friendship over winning this imbecilic bet.

“And you were confident you can woo me? What about our friendship? Does it mean anything to you?” I inquired, curious of what was going inside his head when he agreed to this half-witted bet. Did he seriously think we could have sex and then forget all about it?

“It’s not like that! I don’t want to woo you. I mean… I could, and you would be very much aware if I tried to hit on you, and you would fall for me. No doubts on that,” Jaemin spoke confidently, grinning like an idiot with ego blown way out of proportion. “But–“

Jaemin was about to say something dense, so before more bullshit managed to leave his mouth, I hit him with a cutting board. Jaemin whined, but I was sure he was exaggerating for comedy purposes. My hit was calculated and balanced – it was powerful enough for him to understand it wasn’t a good idea, but at the same, it was not going to cause any permanent damage to his brain. I’d never purposefully do that to him.

“We’re not having sex. Get that shit inside your head,” I interjected, pouring my herbal tea down my throat, already thinking about making another cup. This conversation was making me uncomfortable, and I wanted to put an end to it. Perhaps another lemon balm tea would calm my nerves.

Ignoring his penetrating gaze, I shuffled around the kitchen, setting the kettle on the stove. In the meantime, Jaemin walked around the kitchen island and grabbed me by my shoulders, looking straight into my eyes.

“Come on, Noona, I am not asking you to sleep with me,” Jaemin defended his case, quite determined to pull me on his side.

“Well… it looks exactly like you’re asking me to sleep with you,” I cut in, walking around him to the cabinet to get a fresh tea bag. I’ve really had enough of this bullshit.

“We could just make it look like like we did,” he carried on, and I heaved a deep sigh, regretting even letting him in today. I had this extremely boring essay to write, and at this point, I’d rather begin my research on whatever topic my professor assigned.

“It’s still a no from me, sorry,” I replied harshly, crashing Jaemin’s expectations. Judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t the outcome he anticipated when he decided to knock on my doors. “What happens when you lose that bet? Well… except for your pride, of course.”

“500 dollars.”

“Ouch, sowwy, I hope you can afford that,” I added with a fake smile, patting him on the shoulder, being well aware this amount of money was a game-changer to Jaemin’s budget. If he won, he would have the time of his life, spoiling himself. However, if he lost, he’d have to eat instant ramen on every meal for the entire month. “Either way, I hope it will teach you a lesson to not bet on things you know you can’t win.”

“Ugh, fine,” Jaemin groaned in disappointment, reaching for my hands, holding them carefully as if they were made of china. “If you help me, I’ll give you half of the money,” he proposed, and I looked at our hands linked together, then quickly shifted my gaze to his eyes. “If you help me win, you’ll get 250 dollars, and you’ll be finally able to buy those fancy shoes you wanted so bad. What do you say?”

When did he get so persuasive?

It was a low blow.

Jaemin knew that these shoes were tempting me ever since I had seen them. Multiple times, my thumb hovered over the add-to-cart button. Every time, I resisted the temptation last minute upon seeing the price tag, though. This purchase was way out of my budget.  However, now, when the new income opportunity presented itself, it made me wonder.

Suddenly, the kettle began to whistle, bringing me down to Earth from that ridiculous train of thought. Shaking my head, I tore my hands out of Jaemin’s gentle grasp, fidgeting back to the stove, pouring boiling water into the cup.

“Okay, fine, but I have a few questions first,” I gave up after a short pause for intense pondering, and Jaemin smiled brightly in instant gratitude and relief. Without my help, he would be doomed. “And then, if I like the answers, I have a few conditions.”

“Anything.”

“Okay, so first of all, how much time do we have to do the deed,” I inquired as I blew some air before taking a cautious sip.

“About two weeks,” Jaemin mentioned after a while as he had counted on his fingers how many days we have to team up and win five hundred dollars for us. “Officially, we have to do it before Jaehyun’s birthday party,” he specified, and I hummed, realizing it is very little time.

“You seriously think I am that easy? Outrageous,” I gasped, throwing a fake tantrum as I made my way around him to sit down on the barstool on the other side of the kitchen island.

“No, of course not,” Jaemin quickly realized what I was getting on, so he smiled sheepishly, already trying to figure out the best wording to calm me down. “I am just that good,” he added, and I leaned over to smack his shoulder. “Kidding,” he defended himself, stepping out of my reach. “Renjun proposed this party, I mean, it’s the easiest way they can verify we did it,” Jaemin carried on, and I cursed under my breath.

How convenient.

“But we’re not going to do the fucking,” I stated, as a matter of fact, repeating myself in order to make sure we were both on the same page. As much as it would be pleasant to actually do it with him, never under these circumstances.

“No, we’re not, but I guess we can sneak out upstairs to one of the unoccupied rooms, and once we make sure they’re listening, you can just shout how good I’m fucking you,” Jaemin reasoned, and I sighed as regret once again washed through me.

“That’s creepy,” I commented as my mind conjured an image of a group of peeping Toms, eavesdropping on our sex session. Once again, I felt the temptation to drop out of this deal, but then, another thought crossed my mind. “Ugh, fine, I’ll do it. All I have to do is shout for two minutes, and then, these cute shoes will be mine.”

“Two minutes? Are you insane?” Jaemin hollered, offended by my comment. “It happened once, and it was ages ago. I’ve learned plenty of tricks since then,” he blabbered, acting way too defensive for his past mishap. “Just let me live in peace, please.”

“Okay, so we have established the deadline, and although it’s not enough time for anyone to woo me, let’s go with it.”

“Thank you! I knew I could count on you,” Jaemin replied with gleeful enthusiasm as he sat down on the barstool beside me and pressed a chaste kiss against my knuckles.

“But you have to go overboard with the courting,” I added, making Jaemin groan. Hard work wasn’t his best suit, but this time, he really had to try his best, or I’d have to turn him down at Jaehyun’s party. “You really have to make it believable and super romantic. Otherwise, I’m out,” I clarified, and Jaemin nodded, though unwillingly.

“Fine, any other wishes in mind?”

“Once we win the bet, we have to end this whole fake-dating fiasco immediately,” I announced, already planning ahead. It was easy to win the bet, but the most difficult part was getting back to normal. If we planned to fake-date in order to fake-fuck, then it was reasonable to figure out how we’re going to fake-break up.

“We should agree on admitting it was the best sex of our lives, but despite that, we value our friendship even more, so we decided to remain friends. How does it sound?” Jaemin suggested, and I had to once again resist the temptation to roll my eyes.

“I agree with the overall message, but later, we have to work on proper delivery.”

 ***

On the very next day, Jaemin and I decided to implement our secret plan.

Since I specifically asked to be courted in an over-the-top manner, Jaemin suggested going to the cinema. There were no attention-grabbing titles screened, yet ultimately, we agreed on watching the very last projection of the sequel to Wonder Woman.

“Go get the snacks, I’ll buy the tickets,” I ordered once we stepped into the cinema area of the nearest shopping mall. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, so the establishment wasn’t crowded. Except for us, there was only a family of three slowly making their way to the exit.

“See you in five minutes,” Jaemin murmured before he walked off to the bar to get us some salty popcorn and soda drinks. Though we both considered them way overpriced, it was a perfect way to celebrate the beginning of our fake relationship.

“We still have some time until the movie starts,” Jaemin shyly whispered as he cleared his throat. “Let’s take some selfies to make it public,” he added, and I nodded, sending him a timid smile, knowing this protocol had to be done in order to properly keep up appearances.

These days, everything had to be posted on social media, or it didn’t exist. If we didn’t leave a single digital mark, people might’ve grown a little bit suspicious of our alleged rendezvous. It would probably shock our friends, but it had to be done if we wanted to really sell it to them.

The circumstances were perfect for an impromptu first-date photo shoot. We were able to snap a few pictures without any annoying looks of prying eyes, choose the best angles, and finally post it with an ambiguous description confusing the shit out our friends.

Though Jaemin took about fifty photos, ultimately, I allowed him to upload three.

One picture showed me standing back to the camera as I looked at the cinema schedule, trying to pick a movie. I was wearing an A-line crimson red dress and a pair of warm black tights – the outfit really made my figure look pretty slim.

“What do you think about this one?” Jaemin inquired, showing me the photo of our interlaced hands. With a hum, I inspected the picture, giving him the green light. It was appropriate for our first date – it would signify we weren’t at the cinema as friends.

“This one looks good enough,” I commented as I reached to swipe across the screen of his smartphone. “I look cute here,” I added, showing Jaemin a picture of us. We were smiling, staring at the camera, almost stuffing our faces into the bucket of popcorn.

“What kind of description should I write?”

“Something vague, I guess,” I answered with a shrug, having no clue what kind of comment would be fitting for this Instagram post. “Maybe stick to emojis,” I suggested, and Jaemin went back to work, adjusting filters and typing the description.

With a chuckle, Jaemin handed me his phone, letting me approve his commentary.

“Are you out of your mind?” I hollered, quickly deleting the emojis. Having smacked his shoulder, I turned around, blocking him from seeing the screen. Three blushed emojis suited our fake-date better than a popcorn bucket, a wine glass, and an eggplant.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Jaemin apologized, still laughing at his incredibly funny joke.

“Here, I posted it,” I said with an eye roll, throwing his phone at his lap. “The commercials must’ve started; let’s go,” I rose from my seat and extended my arm, wanting Jaemin to hand me the cup of coke. Jaemin, however, completely misunderstood my intentions, putting his hand into mine, holding it gently. “Give me my drink, Jaemin.”

“Sorry,” Jaemin sheepishly smiled before he yanked back his hand and turned his head around, too embarrassed to look at me. I, on the other hand, laughed hysterically. That should’ve served him right after that emoji faux pas.

“I was kidding,” I admitted when my laughter died down. “Come on, Jaemin. Let’s go; I want to see the trailers,” I added before grabbing his hand, hauling him inside the screening room.

At the last row, we plopped down onto our double seat, getting comfortable for the movie. With our belongings thrown onto the neighboring seat, we stretched our limbs before the lights went out, providing us with the best viewing experience.

“Do you think they’ve seen it?” Jaemin whispered into my ear as he placed his head on my shoulders. “I want to check it, but at the same time, I don’t.”

“Mood,” I replied, feeling just as anxious.

The movie began, and we quickly forgot about our bold social media statement, focusing much more on the screening. Residing to our typical behavior, Jaemin placed his head on my shoulder, snuggling closer, taking full advantage of the bucket of popcorn, which rested on my thighs.

It was peaceful and comfortable – just as things were before Jaemin had come up with his brilliant idea to fake-date each other for the sake of that ludicrous bet. Though we acted the way we used to with each other, it felt somewhat different with that supposed romantic connotations haunting us. Not necessarily bad kind of different, though.

Just as we expected, two hours was more than enough for our friends to spam our individual inboxes. We both had dozens of messages from group chats, as well as private ones. All of them were asking and/or speculating what happened and why.

“I don’t feel like answering any of these,” I muttered, dreading to read what Ten and Jiwoo wrote on our roomies’ group chat. “I don’t feel like coming home, either. They’re gonna eat me alive with questions. I am not ready to face them yet. Wanna hang out some more?”

“Fuck, even my mom has seen them,” Jaemin cursed under his breath, completely forgetting about his mother being a mad keen Instagram user. Now, when he looked at our arrangement from a slightly different angle, Jaemin realized it brought way more consequences than he was planning on facing.

It was bad.

Really bad.

With shaky hands, I unlocked my phone, checking the Instagram post Jaemin had tagged me in. Not only our friends flooded the group chats, but also, they didn’t forget to embarrass us even further in the comment section.

lucas_xx444: what the heck??? 😧 is this for real???

yuu_taa_1026: finally!!1 maybe they stop simping for each other now 🤡

_jeongjaehyun: another man down, shame 😔

choi.jiwoo21: 🙄🙄 some men actually grow up, jeong…

mama_nana: Why am I only finding about this now?

“Well… fuck,” I murmured under my breath, still unable to process the fact that Jaemin’s mom knew about it. It was supposed to be a harmless charade; however, with each passing minute, it was getting out of hand. “What is the damage control procedure?” I asked in concern, biting the bottom lip nervously. Lying to our friends was pretty bad, but keeping this relationship thingy up in front of his mother was despicable.

“You know how she is,” Jaemin started, and I sighed, wishing I had no clue of what she was capable of. Unfortunately, I did, and it scared the hell out of me. “Either we go and visit her, or she’s coming to visit us,” he wondered, unable to choose which option was worse. “Fuck, she’s calling me. What do I do?”

With panic flashed in his eyes, Jaemin handed me his phone, expecting me to handle the conversation with his gossip-girl type of a mother. As if that would ever happen…

“Pick up and tell her we’re awfully busy or something,” I ordered him, gliding my finger across the screen, pressing the device against Jaemin’s ear.

“Hi, mom,” he spoke through gritted teeth, staring at me in absolute fury. Quickly, his hand cupped mine before he grabbed the phone, adjusting it.

By Jaemin’s mom’s standards, the conversation was brief. Or rather, her monologue was because Jaemin didn’t speak a single word through the entirety of it. Except for a couple of mmm’s thrown here and there, he didn’t engage at all.

Ideally, Jaemin would schedule the visit after we will have broken up. He’d go there by himself and tell her a story of us coming back to our senses and deciding to remain just friends. Unfortunately, that would require at least one functional brain cell and a pinch of assertiveness – both of which Jaemin seemed to lack.

“And?” I inquired, praying to hear some good news.

With a sheepish smile, Jaemin cautiously looked up at me. “We’re visiting her for dinner on Friday,” he announced, and I gripped my hands, trying to refrain myself from beating the shit out of him.

I didn’t sign up for any of this!

I just wanted some shoes.

“I hate you, Na Jaemin,” I angrily declared, storming out of the cinema, ready to indulge myself with plenty of greasy food. It wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but I needed to consume a ridiculous amount of calories in order to forget I was stupid enough to agree to participate in this travesty. “Are you coming or not?!”

 ***

The last thing I wanted was to face my roommates. They must’ve had dozens of questions about this out-of-the-blue date, and I was dreadful because I couldn’t provide them with genuine answers. Perhaps, I could try to confabulate my way out of this, but it was, nonetheless, risky.

Having eaten at least two servings of a delicious greasy meal Jaemin and I went for a stroll under the pretense of taking some more photos for future references.

Around 8 o’clock, I unwillingly made my way home. Even with that romantic aura lurking around us, it was still fun to hang out with Jaemin.

Walking up the stairs to the fourth floor, I wondered about possible solutions to my problem. In a perfect scenario, I’d sneak into my room without anyone noticing, so I wouldn’t have to deal with any prying questions until, at least, early morning.

Unfortunately, the moment I pulled out my keys, the doors swung wide open.

“Well, well, well…” Ten tsked with a mischievous smirk dancing across his gorgeous face. Asshole. How dare he tsk me? “Had fun on your date?” He asked, and I tried my best to ignore him. It wasn’t that easy, though. With Jiwoo backing up his teasing, I was outnumbered.

“So… you and Jaemin, huh?” Jiwoo mused, cocking up her eyebrow in curiosity. “Spill the tea. I didn’t spam your inbox to not hear all the details,” she added, and I rolled my eyes, regretting all of my poor life choices that led me to this moment.

“I’ll bring wine,” Ten hollered before he disappeared in the kitchen, also keen on knowing everything that had happened between us. “Don’t say anything until I get there!”

They wanted to hear a romantic story of how two friends realized they had hots for each other, and that’s exactly what I did. Unwillingly, I provided them with an incredible piece of fiction of how we felt the spark when Jaemin stopped by the other day.

Admittedly, it was easy to go with the flow once the wine molecules were coursing through my veins. With some liquid inspiration in my bloodstream, I narrated how adorable Jaemin had been when he had gathered enough courage to ask me out on a date.

“So I assume you’re bringing Jaemin to the cabin on the weekend,” Jiwoo inquired in a teasing manner, and I blinked in confusion. What cabin was she talking about? “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Forgot about what?” I asked, still clueless about the whole ordeal. With a confused frown, I wondered what this cabin trip was about. Positively, I didn’t forget about it. It’s impossible to forget about plans you weren’t even invited to.

So, Jiwoo explained everything in great detail.

Apparently, Jaehyun and Johnny planned a weekend getaway to the cabin by the sea. They invited plenty of people, but since it’s the middle of a hectic period of exams, only a small percentage of invitees would be able to make it.

Jaehyun, Johnny, and Lucas gave up trying to get the best grades two semesters ago, so their schedule was pretty much open. Renjun, Chenle, and Yeri were nerds with every necessary book memorized by heart, so they didn’t have to cram the weekend before the tests. Jiwoo, being heads over heels in love with Jaehyun, would even cancel her manicure appointment to make it to that trip. She was that serious about this fratboy for some reason…

And now, two individuals needed a perfect excuse to ditch an uncomfortable family dinner. When a chance presented itself in front of me, I just couldn’t say no.

“I’m going. I don’t know about Jaemin, though. He’s meeting his mom on Friday, but maybe he can make it work.”

“Fantastic,” Jiwoo shouted in excitement before finishing her glass of wine.

“Now, when I think about it, I am glad I’ve taken an extra shift at the gym,” Ten chimed in with a playful smirk as he sipped his wine. “You two simping for each other was painful to watch, but now, when you’re hitting it off, it’s gonna be unbearable.”

“What do you mean simping?” I yelled in a threatening manner, ready to fight him for spitting nonsense so carelessly. I might’ve had a tiny crush on Jaemin, but I wouldn’t call it simping. Also, suggesting the simping was mutual? He must’ve lost his freaking mind. Ridiculous!

“Shit, I didn’t think this through,” Jiwoo mentioned, now probably re-considering if the trip is worthwhile. She would love to hang out with Jaehyun and finally make a move, but on the other hand, she would have to deal with my and Jaemin’s romantic shenanigans.

“Why are you such drama queens? We’ve been on one date, for crying out loud! Stop acting like we’re some kind of overly touchy couple because we’re not,” I barked, having no more energy to argue with them. “We’ll keep PDA to a minimum, don’t worry.”

“No need to get so defensive,” Ten added, enjoying my misery a bit too much.

“I am not getting defensive,” I argued, though facing real trouble, unable to actually back up my perspective. “Anyway, I am going to sleep. Unlike the two of you, some people have real jobs,” I added before storming to my room, plopping onto my bed with a tired groan.

Having changed into my pajamas and sneaked under the covers, I finally dared to connect my phone to the Internet. My inbox was full of texts, so I read them all. I didn’t feel like replying to any of them, though. Instead, I opened my chat with Jaemin.

my love 💖 | 20:41 | I figured it out

my love 💖 | 20:41 | You don’t have to thank me

my love  💖 | 20:41 | Also

my love 💖 | 20:41 | Wtf Jaemin?

my love 💖 | 20:41 | What kind of name is that???

my love 💖 | 20:42 | Change it back

baNANA 🍓 |  20:43 | No. 😘

baNANA 🍓 | 20:43 | The name stays

baNANA 🍓 | 20:43 | You can’t make me 😝😝

baNANA 🍓 | 20:44 | And what don’t I have to thank you for?

my love 💖 | 20:44 | I might’ve found alternative plans for friday

baNANA 🍓 | 20:44 | Oh???

my love 💖 | 20:45 | Jiwoo invited us to the cabin for the weekend

my love 💖 | 20:45 | We’re gonna get so drunk!

my love 💖 | 20:45 | It’s okay if you can’t make it, tho

baNANA 🍓 | 20:45 | Wow

baNANA 🍓 | 20:45 | I have an exam on Monday…

baNANA 🍓 | 20:45 | But I can make Haechan give me his notes

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | I wouldn’t miss it

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Good, then it’s a date

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | Date??? 🥰🥰

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Stop being so cringy!

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | Good night, love~~ 😘

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | Dream of me 😇😇😇

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Ugh.

my love 💖 | 20:46 | Disgusting 🤢🤮

baNANA 🍓 | 20:46 | I love you, too

***

As brilliant as my plan was, it fell through. Only partially, though. The little getaway was still a thing, but unfortunately, regardless of how much we tried, we couldn’t reschedule the dinner at Jaemin’s family home.

We still had to pay his parents a visit, but, at least, there was a silver lining.

Thanks to our hectic schedule, Jaemin’s mom wouldn’t have a chance to force us to stay longer. Whether she wanted to feed us dessert or stay the night, it was out of the question.

Since Jiwoo had one more exam to pass on Friday, half of the guests would have to show up later in the evening. Johnny, Jaehyun, Lucas, and Renjun were about to take off around noon while Jiwoo, Yeri, Chenle, Jaemin, and I had to carpool later in the evening.

I didn’t complain, though.

“It’ll be fine. It’s just my mom,” Jaemin reassured me, slipping his hand into mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I bet it’s gonna be like any other time you stopped by,” he added, and I cocked up my eyebrow suspiciously.

“You better be right,” I spoke, though still unconvinced. I knew Jaemin’s mother. She had a tendency to be, hmm…, a little bit extra. Who knew how she would behave now when she found out we were dating?

Since Jaemin was carrying our suitcases, I knocked on the front doors. Jaemin’s mom rushed to let us in, but not before she gave us bone-crushing hugs.

“I think you’ve misunderstood. I invited you for dinner. I didn’t ask you to move in with me,” Mrs. Na jested upon seeing the suitcases in Jaemin’s hands, misinterpreting the situation in the funniest way possible. “It must be shocking, but I enjoy living alone with your father.”

“We’re going to the beach with some friends after the dinner,” Jaemin clarified, and his mother hummed in understanding, acting a bit too cool about it. It’s been a while since Jaemin paid them a proper visit, and she was a little too nonchalant for my liking. “They’re going to pick us up around seven.”

She must’ve done something or was about to do something.

“Here’s some wine,” I spoke up, handing her the bottle as a small thank you gift for inviting us over for a delicious home-made meal.

“Thank you, dear. You’re so thoughtful,” Mrs. Na accepted the beverage, guiding us to the dining area. “I didn’t feel like cooking today, so I ordered some Chinese takeout. I hope you don’t mind,” she added, and I chuckled at her typical antics.

She was an amazing mother to Jaemin, raising him well, but she really was a terrible housewife. She didn’t change one bit, and I loved her for it. She had so much love for her husband, her son, and her son’s friends, and that’s what really mattered.

“Your father will be home in thirty,” she announced before she made a beeline to the kitchen to get a bottle opener. “And the takeout was supposed to arrive twenty minutes ago. If it weren’t for that slow delivery guy, I would’ve got away with my little secret,” she blabbered, laughing awkwardly.

“It’s okay, really,” I reassured her, sending her a genuine smile. “I am craving Chinese food, anyway,” I added before I elbowed Jaemin, so he would say something, too. For a blabbermouth he was, right now, he seemed awfully quiet.

Before Jaemin managed to provide his mother with a proper response, someone knocked on the doors. Since we had already arrived, it must’ve been the delivery guy with food.

“I’ll go get it,” Jaemin excused himself, leaving me alone with his mother.

“So…,” Mrs. Na cleared her throat as he began pouring wine into fancy glasses. “You guys are finally dating. And if you want me to be completely honest, I am a little bit disappointed,” she made a pause to look at me in the eye. What? She didn’t approve of me? That’s surprising; I used to think she adored me. “I am a little bit disappointed either of you didn’t make a move sooner. I was slowly losing hope,” she added, and I sighed in relief.

For a while, I was seriously concerned she didn’t like me.

“Are you expecting any guests? There’s no way we can finish it all by the four of us,” Jaemin commented as he walked into the dining room, setting two plastic bags of takeout. It smelled heavenly, and I couldn’t wait to taste whatever dish Mrs. Na had ordered.

“I can always invite your friends inside when they pull up,” she spoke matter-of-factly, but as soon as Jaemin looked at her sternly, she seconded that idea. “Or, I can pack it up, so you can share it with your friends later.”

“Should we wait for dad?” Jaemin asked when his stomach growled, demanding food. In the morning, he was quite anxious about going to his parents’ house, so he didn’t even bother to eat. Now, Jaemin was starving. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“I’ll get the plates,” his mom spoke, not really answering his question. Within two minutes, she came back with a special set of tableware. In their household, it was used only for holidays and other rare occasions. “Dig in,” she urged us, waiting for us to fill our plates before doing the same herself.

Whatever restaurant provided today’s dinner, it was remarkable. It wasn’t too salty, nor too spicy. Even when I was full, I still stuffed my mouth some more, unable to stop myself.

“You have sauce on your chin,” Jaemin remarked, pointing at his own chin, helping me locate the stray drop of soy sauce. “Here,” he added with a tired shake of his head, wiping it clean with his napkin.

“You two are too adorable,” Mrs. Na cooed, smiling at us widely. “It was worth the wait,” she added, and I creased my forehead in confusion. “Oh, did you hear that? It must be your dad,” Mrs. Na said upon hearing noise from the garage. “You keep eating, I’ll go greet his workaholic ass,” she excused herself with a playful smile before walking away from the table to welcome her husband as any loving wife would.

With a deep sigh, Jaemin leaned toward me, resting his arm on my chair.

“It’s not that bad, actually. I was excepting to go through some kind of FBI-level of interrogation, but she seems kind of chill about this whole thing,” Jaemin whispered into my ear, and I giggled, agreeing with him. It was kind of suspicious, but I couldn’t complain.

“It’s kinda creepy when she’s talking like she’s been rooting for us to end up together, but this one thing aside, it’s bearable,” I replied, and Jaemin nodded his head.

“I am gone for a minute, and you’re all over each other,” Mrs. Na snickered when she returned to the dining room, seeing Jaemin leaned in, only inches apart from my face. “Jaemin, mama’s so proud,” she added before she walked around the room to set the plate for Mr. Na.

“Stop embarrassing me,” Jaemin whined, playing with the food on his plate, pouting. Though his mother pretty much ignored his childish tantrum, I chuckled, finding it absolutely adorable. Maybe she was a teaser, but little Jaemin knew, he inherited it from her. It was time he experienced the taste of his own medicine.

The apple doesn’t fall that far from the tree…

The rest of the afternoon went peaceful. Though Mrs. Na threw in some cheesy remarks here and there, we could handle it. We were slightly buzzed, after all.

“It’s time for us,” Jaemin announced as he heard a car parked in front of the house. “It was nice. We should totally do it again,” he sarcastically added when he reached for my coat and helped me put it on.

“Don’t have too much fun,” she added with a playful smirk upon her face, earning a judging look from her more conservative husband. “No, wait, I second that. Have as much fun as you want. I am a cool parent,” she spoke, changing her mind in a matter of seconds. “And I plan on becoming a cool grandparent.”

At first, I wanted to remind her that we’re too young for children. Besides, technically, we only went on one date. It was definitely too soon to even think about these things, let alone talk about them out loud.

Thankfully, before I managed to say something I’d regret, Jiwoo honked, urging us to get going. If it wasn’t for her impatience, I might’ve ruined the image I had built for myself in Jaemin’s parents’ eyes.

“Your mother was joking! Always use protection,” Mr. Na hollered before he closed the doors after us.

***

Except for a few playful comments shot toward Jaemin and me, the ride was peaceful. As soon as we threw our suitcases into the trunk and squeezed in on the backseat, we hit the road. Jamming to Jiwoo’s playlist, we chatted in excitement, all of us in desperate need of a little vacation. It was a stressful time of a year, but maybe this short trip would actually help us recharge the batteries and calm down after busting our asses off.

“How was the dinner?” Jiwoo asked, staring at us in the rearview mirror. Since there was a limited amount of space, I was almost sitting on Jaemin’s laps. Jiwoo didn’t miss it with her eagle eyes. The way Jaemin played with my fingers didn’t go unnoticed, either.

“Bearable,” I muttered under my breath, not really wanting to recollect these memories now. I’d probably tell Jiwoo everything later, and she understood the subliminal message in a heartbeat. “How was your test?”

“I probably failed, but, at least, now I know what to expect,” Jiwoo answered as she turned to the left as the navigation system instructed her to.

In about two hours, we arrived at our destination.

Having stepped into the cabin with our heavy luggage in our hands, we encountered the middle of the party. A handful of beer bottles were scattered around the living area, the boys fervently discussing some matter.

“You’re finally here,” Jaehyun spoke matter-of-factly, as he noticed us in the threshold. “Go upstairs and leave your stuff in your rooms. We’ve already assigned them; just read the post-it notes stuck to the doors,” he explained before he turned away.

Huh, apparently, they were pros at planning.

The guys rented a cabin that consisted of six tiny bedrooms. Generally, we wouldn’t have a problem assigning them; however, since Jaehyun, Lucas, and Johnny didn’t want to room with anyone, we were facing a dilemma. They guys wanted to have some privacy if they managed to pick someone up at the hotel in the neighborhood. In this case, the six of us had to share rooms. Jiwoo and Yeri could room together. Renjun and Chenle could occupy another one, so it looked like they put Jaemin and me in the last one.

Thankfully, it wouldn’t be the first time when I had to share a bed with Jaemin. He had stayed the night plenty of times before when he dozed off during our Netflix marathons. However, it still was to be a little bit awkward since everybody thought we began dating. We were going to pull through, though.

As soon as possible, we came back downstairs, ready to even the score of consumed alcohol. All of us needed it. Everybody had a different reason for it, but none of our troubles were to be discussed tonight.

In the fridge, there was a whole palette of different types of alcohol. Quickly, I grabbed two tequila-flavored beers, handing one to Jaemin, allowing others to choose their poison.

My plan for tonight was to test every kind of alcohol, gradually going up with the percentages. It was a bad idea, but that’s what college was about – having fun like there’re no consequences.

We partied like there’s no tomorrow.

At first, we kept it simple. Fervent conversations led us to shout at one another, trying to force one perspective over the others. We were going through so many subjects that any sober bystander might’ve had real trouble comprehending how we managed to switch among them.

Then, someone suggested playing a drinking game. Of course, it had to be never have I ever. Everybody had so much fun, especially when the participants yelled at Jaemin and me because we didn’t even bother to abide by the rules. We were sipping our drinks whenever we felt like it, even between rounds, and it didn’t sit right with the rest. Eventually, they kicked us out of their little circle, giving us the crucial task of bringing some snacks from the kitchen.

Sometime past midnight, Jiwoo proposed going outside. It was beautifully snowing, but at the same time, it was freezing. Though I was opposed to this idea, everybody seemed to love it. The guys were throwing snowballs at each other, bringing out their inner child.

As if this wasn’t enough, they decided to take a stroll to the seaside. Though our cabin was maybe a mile away from the seashore, I didn’t particularly fancy the saunter. Jaemin was by my side, offering to warm my hand in his pocket, but I still was on the verge of freezing my ass off. I’d much rather sit by the fireplace under a few blankets with a mug of the mulled wine in my grasp. Apparently, everybody besides me was really intrigued by an ice bath and other winter extreme sports.

Though it was dangerous as fuck, Jiwoo took off her shoes and rolled up her jeans before she walked into the ice water of the sea. Being the dumbass he was, Lucas instantly followed suit.

“They seem to hit it off tonight,” I nonchalantly whispered as I elbowed Jaehyun. Jiwoo and Jaehyun might have a thing going on, but neither of them acted on it. Jiwoo was too whipped to make a move, too afraid of rejection. Jaehyun, on the other hand, was just a fuckboy, not really looking for a relationship. “Look at them. Don’t they look cute?” I carried on, cautiously watching Jaehyun’s expression. They weren’t together, but he seemed slightly jealous and frustrated watching her have lots of fun with Lucas.

In my opinion, he didn’t deserve her, but I didn’t really have a say in that matter. Jaehyun was the person Jiwoo’s heart longed for, and I, being her best friend, had to support that. Or, in this case, I had to give him a little push to get things in motion.

Jaehyun had some feelings for Jiwoo, but he needed some time and character development to fully comprehend them. Until then, it was my duty to remind him what he’s missing out on by not being serious enough to ask her out.

“Nah, I wouldn’t call them cute,” Jaehyun murmured through gritted teeth, positively jealous. “What they’re doing is dangerous; somebody has to stop them,” he added before he kicked off his own shoes, running toward Jiwoo to pick her up and bring her back to the shore.

“What was that?” Jaemin asked, being shook as to what he had witnessed.

“What was what? What do you mean?” I smirked, winking at him, hoping he wouldn’t tell anyone about it. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You played him,” Jaemin spoke, still impressed by how easily I manipulated Jaehyun into stepping into the scene, pulling Jiwoo away from Lucas. “Is this even legal? You’ve never done this one me, have you?”

“No, of course, not! Don’t be ridiculous,” I answered, though my tone suggested a completely different message. “You would’ve known, wouldn’t you?” I teased, chuckling at Jaemin’s funny expression. He was mortified. “I think you’re overreacting. I just pointed out some facts, and Jaehyun reacted to them according to his emotional opinion. I really didn’t do anything,” I added, defending my case.

“Don’t you ever try pulling a trick like that on me, okay?” Jaemin stated, and I nodded, giving him a promise. “I mean… I wouldn’t fall for it, but still, don’t.”

“We should head back to the cabin,” Johnny shouted, gathering the gang. Surprisingly, he seemed the most sober amongst us, so it didn’t come as a shock to me that he tried to look after his hammered friends.

In my opinion, it was a perfect call. I was slowly sobering up, and I definitely needed a refill. With my schedule packed, I had no idea when I would have a chance for another getaway, so I had to make the most out of this one.

As we returned to the cabin, Jaehyun’s eyes didn’t leave Jiwoo.

Jaemin, on the other hand, went upstairs to grab his camera, deciding it was the best time to snap photos. Of course, he had to take pictures of us when we were drunk out of our minds. Why didn’t he take any when we looked decent without smudged make-up?

“Sexy,” Jaemin commented as he pointed his camera at me. “Ahh, sexy,” he kept calling me that, and I stuck my tongue at him, wanting him to go away pester someone else. My hair was a mess, and my lipstick smudged off my lips a long time ago. “So sexy,” he carried on, making me roll my eyes at him. At some point, I tried kicking him, but that bastard was beyond my reach.

Around 2 o’clock, one by one, we began feeling tired.

Lucas was the first one to go. Considering how much alcohol he had drunk, I was surprised he lasted that long. Better yet, it was a shock he could even stand straight. Jaemin and Renjun had to escort him upstairs, but nonetheless, his alcohol tolerance was impressive.

I didn’t even realize when, but Yeri and Chenle managed to fall asleep on the couch. Firmly, Renjun shook them away, ordering them to go to their respective rooms. With tired yawns, they made their way upstairs, falling on their beds face-first.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Jaemin pouted as he sat on the side of the armchair, resting his head on my shoulder. Entwining his hand in mine, he stood up, pulling me up.

“Have fun, guys. We’re calling it a night,” I announced, refraining from yawning.

“No, you have fun,” Jiwoo replied, sending us a wink. Shaking my head, I sighed before we disappeared upstairs. I don’t know what she was thinking; however, I didn’t have the energy to keep my eyes open, let alone other nighttime activities. Besides, Jaemin was just as spent. Even if we were in a real relationship, we wouldn’t engage in half-conscious unsatisfactory messy sex.

“Come here,” Jaemin whispered as he smiled. His eyes were already closed as he patted the mattress beside him, waiting for me to join. “Good job. I think we really sold it to everybody,” he added as he snuggled closer, wrapping his limbs around my body.

“That’s good,” I purred, slowly drifting into dreamland. It was a long day, and it was finally over. Though it had a rough beginning, I ended it in Jaemin’s arms. “Good night.”

“Good night, my love,” Jaemin muttered, resting his head on my pillow right beside my face.

“You were supposed to change that name,” I replied, too drunk or/and too tired to realize it was his spoken words and not a text message.

 ***

During the second week of our relationship, we grew to be less tense around each other. Better yet, we seemed awfully comfortable, almost as if that’s how everything was meant to be. It was a little bit alarming, but I decided not to point that out. Even if it was just an act, I enjoyed it much more than I’d ever dare to admit. As long as it lasted, I was to savor it.

Ever since we came back from the weekend trip, Jaemin would pop up out of nowhere at least once a day with a surprise for me, proving how over the top he could be in courting a woman.

On Monday, he spammed his social media feed with my pictures from the trip. Of course, he didn’t forget to put a corny description under it, making me flustered. Even though I wouldn’t consider myself photogenic, Jaemin managed to bring out my best features with his photography talent and editing skills.

On Tuesday, Jaemin was waiting outside the auditorium with a cute bouquet of my favorite flowers – white roses. He was there to congratulate me on passing my last exam of the semester. The professor would send us results by the end of the week, but according to Jaemin, there was no chance I’d fail it.

“I still don’t get it how you do it,” Jaemin mused, scratching his temple, trying to put two and two together. “I hardly ever see you study, but then, you panic before an exam only to nail it later on. What kind of black magic is this?” He wondered, and I giggled, unable to explain my poor studying technique. I just winged it last minute every single time in my academic career.

“You better be right about this one,” I replied, still anxious about my grade. I didn’t manage to answer all of the questions, so a passing grade would be a relief. “I’m craving pasta. Do you want t go on a celebratory date?”

“You’re reading my mind,” Jaemin said, grabbing my hand, leading me to our favorite restaurant.

On Wednesday, Jaemin invited me to a bowling alley. Every month he would visit the establishment with his friends. Only on rare occasions, their significant others were invited. None of them could really commit to a serious relationship, so it never became a repetitive custom of their group.

“You guys are disgusting,” Haechan whined after our turn. Jaemin and I were losing by an enormous margin, but we didn’t mind. We were having fun despite a low score. “But at least, we’re winning,” Haechan added, pointing at Chenle and himself.

“I am the winner here,” Jaemin boldly announced, giving my hand a light squeeze, making me almost spit my soda.

Everybody cringed at Jaemin’s bold corny statement.

“I second that,” Haechan mused, looking away from Jaemin. “She’s bearable, and you are just absolutely repulsive,” he corrected himself, and I chuckled. Never in my entire life, I thought I would agree on something with Haechan, but this moment occurred right then.

On Thursday, although my schedule was packed with work, Jaemin insisted on hanging out. Tired out of my mind, I let Jaemin inside the apartment. He was carrying Mexican takeout; I couldn’t send him back home. Not when he had goodies.

“What do you want to watch?” I asked as I handed him the remote, allowing him to choose the movie. I was going to pass out anyway, so he might’ve as well picked something he liked.

“Anything is good,” he answered as he unwrapped his quesadilla, taking a bite off of it.

“The Notebook it is then,” I teased, but since Jaemin didn’t stop me, I put it on.

Having eaten my portion of a delicious meal, I lay down on the couch, resting my head on Jaemin’s thighs. I didn’t even realize when I fell asleep. Only when the credits were rolling down on the screen, Jaemin shook me awake.

“When did you fall asleep?” Jaemin inquired, a little bit mad that I forced him to watch the ultimate romantic movie of the twenty-first century. It was toxic as hell, and the way their behavior got romanticized didn’t sit right with me.

“As soon as I lay down,” I answered honestly, as I rolled around, staring at Jaemin’s handsome face. “How did you like the movie?” I asked innocently, swiftly changing the topic. It was for the better if Jaemin didn’t find out I paid no attention to the film. Instead of a great viewing experience, it was just a mere background noise that lulled me to sleep.

“I didn’t,” Jaemin whined, tapping his foot against the floor, making me sit up instantly. “It was toxic and sad at the same time. Noah was a manipulative jerk, and Allie was moody as fuck. The only bright side of their relationship is that they ended up with each other, not ruining other people’s lives,” Jaemin spoke the truth, and I couldn’t agree more. “In conclusion, give me my 2 hours back,” he added, and I hit him with a cushion.

Unable to comprehend what I just did, Jaemin blinked in confusion. Then, a few seconds later, he smirked and grabbed another cushion, ready to fight back.

Unfortunately, our childish antics were interrupted by Jiwoo. She was hanging out with Yuta, studying for the exam they had to retake the next day. To be completely honest, she couldn’t have any worse timing. While watching a movie was explainable, it wasn’t the case when it came to an impromptu pillow fight.

“Should I come back later, or something?” Jiwoo asked, pointing at the doors, willing to leave if it meant for me to get laid.

“Nah, Jaemin’s leaving. I am trying to kick him out, actually,” I announced, sticking my tongue out.

On Friday, Jaemin and I planned on going to the arcade. Unfortunately, we had to raincheck that. One of Jaemin’s coworkers fell sick, and Jaemin had to take a double shift at the coffee shop in his neighborhood.

I already had canceled my other plans to hang out with Jaemin, so I didn’t really want to stay at home all by myself. It was a Friday night, after all. Surprising him at work seemed like a better idea. His friends liked hanging out there; therefore, it must’ve been an excellent excuse for a little bit of acting in order to keep up appearances.

Quickly, I assembled a cute outfit and put on light make-up.

About an hour before the closing, I entered the coffee shop. Except for a few students with their noses in their computers, the establishment was empty.

“Welcome to–,” Jaemin hollered, ready to welcome the customers. “Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?” He asked as a wide smile spread across his face, enjoying my surprise.

“I just came to surprise you,” I confessed, though none of us paid enough attention to the gravity of my words. I genuinely wanted to hang out Jaemin him as his girlfriend. “And I also wanted to get some discounted goodies. What do you have left?” I asked, looking over his shoulder, trying to see what food didn’t sell yet. An hour before the closing, everything on the menu was discounted by seventy percent, and I just couldn’t walk past that kind of deal.

“You’re not the only one who came for cheap stuff,” Jaemin commented as he saw Haechan and Renjun on the other side of the doors. “Take a seat, I’ll bring you your favorite,” he added, and I smiled at him, walking to the booth by the window.

Having finished my Greek sandwich, I focused on my cup of tea. I was scrolling through social media feed, giggling whenever I stumbled upon a funny meme. It was a perfect evening; complete relaxation in the rhythm of soft foreign jazz music playing through speakers, Jaemin checking up on me once every a couple of minutes.

“Oh, hi, there,” Haechan hollered as soon as he noticed me. He must’ve been returning to his table from a restroom. “I didn’t realize you’re here. What’s up?” We weren’t close, so his question was more like a polite generic statement rather than genuine curiosity.

“I’m waiting for Jaemin to finish, so we can hang out at my place,” I answered, hoping Haechan would get the suggestive tone.

“Actually, there’s something you should know,” he said quietly, looking around, probably checking if Jaemin was within earshot. “I am so ashamed it happened, but I really have to tell you something,” Haechan added, and I couldn’t wait for him to reveal the secret.

Haechan was playing dirty. He wanted to tell me about the bet, ruining Jaemin’s chance at getting me to sleep with him. It was some top-tier double-crossing, and I found it impressive. I had no clue Haechan had it in him.

“We shouldn’t have done it. I don’t know why we even agreed to this,” Haechan added, scratching the back of his head, trying to sound genuinely regretful. “I think Jaemin’s not genuine about the thing you have going on. You see, we made a bet. He has to have sex with you, or else he owes Chenle 500 bucks.”

“What?!” I exclaimed, hoping my consternation was believable. At first, I felt the temptation to say something along, yeah, I know, what’s new, but then I decided to play along. It was actually a good idea to make it seem like Jaemin’s about to lose the bet. Knowing them, they wouldn’t call it off. If anything, Jaemin could double the stakes. “No, it can’t be true. Jaemin would never –“

Now, it was my cue to make a scene. Hopefully, it would play out exactly like in my impromptu prediction.

Reaching the stage of fake hysteria, I rose from my seat and stormed to Jaemin. He was energetically wiping off the tables, wanting to leave shortly after the last customer.

“Is that true? Did you really make a bet you can have sex with me?” I yelled at him through gritted teeth. Jaemin, on the other hand, was confused as fuck. “Did you really think you could get away with it? You disgust me!” I shouted, slapping his cheek. “Don’t ever call me again,” I added before I turned on my heel, storming out of the coffee shop.

Being the only employee at work, Jaemin couldn’t run after me.

Jaemin deserved an explanation. I had to fill him in on my wonderful plan before he would blow it in front of Renjun and Haechan.

my love 💖 | 20:46 | play along

my love 💖 | 20:46 | trust me

my love 💖 | 20:47 | kick them out pls

baNANA  🍓  | 20:47 | wtf???

baNANA 🍓  | 20:48 | that hurt

baNANA 🍓  | 20:48 | I didn’t have to kick them out

baNANA  🍓 | 20:49 | they ran out a few seconds after you

my love 💖 | 20:49 | good

baNANA 🍓  | 20:49 | what the hell is going on???

baNANA  🍓  | 20:50 | I am confused

my love 💖 | 20:50 | Haechan ‘told’ me about the bet

my love 💖 | 20:50 | he wanted to double cross you

baNANA  🍓  | 20:51 | what???

my love 💖 | 20:51 | so the plan is

my love 💖 | 20:51 | they know you don’t stand a chance

my love 💖 | 20:51 | so you double the stakes

my love 💖 | 20:52 | and then bam! we win double the money

baNANA  🍓  | 20:52 | wow

baNANA  🍓  | 20:52 | you’re a genius

my love 💖 | 20:53 | I know

my love 💖 | 20:53 | and since I’m acting like I’m not talking to you

my love 💖 | 20:53 | bye 

my love 💖 | 20:54 | see you @ the party!

 ***

Everything went according to my plan. The guys thought I was pissed with Jaemin, while Jaemin still tried to convince them he stands a chance to court me. It was kind of ironic, they wanted to play me, but it was them getting played.

Together with Jiwoo and Ten, we came extra early to Jaehyun’s party. Still being stuck in friendzone, Jiwoo went out of her way to help him out. Today it meant setting up all types of decorations all over the fraternity house and preparing different kinds of snacks.

Around seven, an Uber pulled up in front of our building. Not to brag, but despite the limited amount of time, we managed to dress up to the nines.

I decided to keep it simple. My outfit consisted of a pair of skinny high-waisted black jeans, a long-sleeved sequin embellished crop top, and a pair of ankle-high boots.

Jiwoo, on the other hand, was wearing a two-piece baby pink dress and a pair of massive mid-thigh black leather platform combat boots. She looked fierce, like a weird baby of 90’s Britney Spears and Marilyn Mason.

Though Ten’s outfit looked the most effortless, it took him longer than us to put it together. Having thrown every single thing from his closet on the bed, Ten experienced a mild crisis. Even though he looked gorgeous in everything, he didn’t seem to believe us. Only after the off-hand intervention, he agreed to play it cool with a pair of ripped jeans, a black shirt with three top buttons left untouched, and an oversized leather jacket.

Once we arrived at Jaehyun’s fraternity, nothing was ready. Thankfully, it wasn’t my problem. Jiwoo was the one who volunteered to help out. Ten and I were about to vibe in the corner, letting other people arrange the place according to Jaehyun’s vision.

Trying our best not to disturb others, Ten and I watched the way the smelly fraternity sex mansion turned into a festive valentine’s manor.

“I hope she’s gonna get laid today,” I whispered into Ten’s ear, looking at Jiwoo working like a busy bee around the house.

“She better; that’s really painful to look at,” Ten agreed, looking a little bit disappointed. Jiwoo was at Jaehyun’s beck and call, and it was about time he acknowledged her feelings.

Around nine o’clock, it was getting a little bit crowded.

Music was blasting through the speakers. Some of the fratboys were already looking for their next conquest. Girls were dancing on a makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living area, suggestively swaying their hips, teasing whoever was watching with their sexy moves.

Later on, when I was in the middle of my fourth drink of the night, Jaemin finally showed up. Together with Haechan, Jeno, Renjun, and Chenle, they walked through the threshold. They all looked great, but Jaemin stood out in the crowd. After all, he was the only one to put on a suit jacket over his white T-shirt. While the rest rocked the comfortable outfits, Jaemin opted for a more elegant look.

Almost as if he wanted to impress someone. Or at least, apologize properly, trying every sly trick to make me forgive him.

Upon entrance, his eyes searched me in the crowd, and when he met my gaze, a smile stretched across his face. Shyly, he raised his hand, wanting to wave at me, but since I stubbornly turned my head around, playing my role of offended woman, he lowered it.

“I’ve seen an ATM on our way here,” Renjun commented, knowing Jaemin didn’t stand a chance of winning the bet.

“It won’t be necessary,” Jaemin replied, following me with his gaze. “I didn’t lose it yet,” he added, and the guys laughed at him. There was no way he still thought he could woo me. “I still have a few hours left; I am not going to give up.”

“You’re such a loser,” Jeno interjected as regret washed through him. Although he didn’t actively participate when the bet was placed, he didn’t oppose it. He was an idle bystander, allowing other people to ruin our friendship. It didn’t sit right with him, but it was too late. The damage was already done, and Jaemin was going to embarrass himself even further. “She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

“It’s not like that,” Jaemin started, but he refused to explain how exactly it was like.

“You’re still gonna fail,” Haechan added with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. Back at the coffee shop, he ruined Jaemin’s chance for success. “Hey there, beautiful,” Haechan spoke when his attention was snatched by one of the girls who walked past them.

Once the boys divided to greet other friends, Jaemin strolled to the kitchen. I was there, and he needed to initiate the first step of our plan.

Sincere apology.

“Can we talk?” Jaemin whispered as he reached out to grab my hand, interrupting my conversation with Ten and Yeri. “Let me explain. You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to listen to me,” he asked, and I unwillingly complied, letting him lead me toward an abandoned corner in the living area. No one could hear us talk, but at the same time, everybody could see us.

“What do you want, Jaemin,” I barked, folding my arms across my chest, startling myself with how good I managed to behave like an angry ex-girlfriend. Though it was my last semester, maybe I should change my major to professional acting.

“Wow. You’re too good at this,” Jaemin commented before he proceeded with his part. “Anyway, I made this card for you. I hope it finds you well,” he announced before he pulled an envelope out of the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

Cautiously, I took the valentine’s card out of the envelope. Once I saw the front page, I couldn’t help but laugh. Jaemin must’ve done it himself, or he stole it from Jeno’s four-year-old niece. It was all covered in hearty stickers and glitter.

Jaemin definitely wasn’t a poet. He had never stood next to one, either.

Instead of a heartfelt apology and love confession, there was a short corny message which simultaneously made me cringe and chuckle.

Are you a ba-NANA? Cause I find you a-peeling.

From Your Love

P.S. it’s from me, your Jaemin

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” I spoke, shaking my head, trying my best not to grin. I was supposed to hate him, but it was too difficult. “I am gonna walk away now. Approach me once you raise the stakes.”

Although I didn’t want to party without Jaemin by my side, it was what I had to do. Having sent him a faint smile, I turned around and walked away, giving Jaemin some time to initiate part two of our plan.

Having drunk a few fancy shots Ten had made for me, we hit the dance floor. At first, we just jumped in the rhythm. However, when the DJ played the song we had practiced at the dance studio, everybody stepped to the side, making enough room to let us perform the choreography.

With alcohol coursing in my system, my moves weren’t as precise as usual – they still earned a round of applause.

“Hey, hey, hey, are you having fun?” Drunk as a skunk, Jaehyun shouted through the microphone connected to the DJ’s console. “How about we slow up the tempo?” Jaehyun yelled, and everybody cheered, making a lot of noise. “Tonight’s the love festival, and I, the valentine’s boy, specifically request every find a person to slow dance with.”

Having set the microphone aside, Jaehyun pushed DJ away from the console, putting on his Cigarettes After Sex playlist. The first song which graced our ears was Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You.

“Can I have this dance?” Jaemin appeared out of nowhere by my side, extending his hand for me to take. “Please?” He looked into my eyes, waiting for my response, looking hopeful.

As soon as I nodded, Jaemin grabbed my hand and gently pulled me against his firm body, resting his left hand on my back, holding me still, making sure I’d not run away. With my head resting against his chest, we swayed slowly, getting lost in our little world.

“They think I am a terrible person,” Jaemin whispered into my ear, his breath tickling my skin. “They seriously think I’d try to ruin our friendship with this bet,” he carried on, and I hummed, taking an inhale, getting hit with Jaemin’s musky cologne.

The boys truly underestimated the power of our friendship. Jaemin and I told each other almost everything. It was bold of them to assume I had no idea about the bet.

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied as I had closed my eyes, getting lost in the moment. “Everything will come back to normal soon enough,” I added, trying to ignore the bittersweet taste of my statement. Our fake relationship had an expiration date, and it was near.

“You’re right. Everything will come back to normal,” Jaemin repeated my words as he rested his chin on top of my head, pulling me even closer. “You’re the best fake girlfriend I’ve ever had,” he added, pressing an innocent peck against my hairline.

“How many fake girlfriends have you had?” I asked, chuckling, sounding a bit jealous.

“Anyway,” Jaemin started, trying to change the subject. “The guys took the bait. And now, judging by the stupid looks on their faces, they’re shitting their pants.”

“Once the song is over, we should initiate the third phase of our plan,” I commented, wanting to be over with this. In about a minute, I was about to pull Jaemin out of the dance floor and lead him to the bathroom upstairs, where we would do the deed.

When another song from Jaehyun’s playlist echoed in the room, all the other couples kept dancing. Jaemin and I, on the other hand, were about to not so discreetly sneak upstairs.

Unfortunately, we met an obstacle on our path.

It was Jaehyun, pointing his phone at our faces.

“It’s a kiss cam. Do what you gotta do,” he spoke, and I creased my forehead in utter confusion. What the hell was he doing? What the hell was a kiss cam? It was a frat party, not a baseball match. Didn’t he have a beer pong championship to win or something?

“What?”

“Do I really have to explain this to everyone? Jesus,” Jaehyun complained, taking a deep sigh, trying to ease his irritation. “It’s Valentine’s day! I am Valentine’s boy! And this is a kiss cam. You kiss, and I take pictures,” he explained, but I wasn’t convinced. “Hurry up! I have to take like 50 more of them.”

At first, I didn’t want to do it. But then, a thought crossed my mind. Who would believe Jaemin and I had sex if I refused to give him a kiss. It was just one kiss; it wouldn’t hurt.

Having licked my lips, I smiled at Jaemin before I wrapped my hands around his neck, giving him a chaste smooch. It lasted maybe a few seconds, but it still made me uneasy. Even if it was just a brief peck, it was too much for my poor heart.

“What the fuck was that?” Jaehyun groaned in disappointment. “One more time, guys. That’s how you kiss your mother, not your girlfriend. You can do better.”

“Show him how it’s done, Jaemin,” I encouraged him, giving him permission to assault my lips, hoping it would happen to be one hell of a performance.

Having smirked, Jaemin leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against mine. Cautiously, he deepened the kiss, knocking the air out of my lungs, making my legs shake under my weight. His hands held my chin in place as his tongue slipped through my lips.

Out of a sudden, nothing else mattered. Jaemin and I were in our bubble, and despite it being a one-time thing, I wished it lasted forever. Whatever expectations I had about this moment, it wasn’t even close to reality.

Jaehyun cleared his throat, wanting to pull us out of our trance. In vain, though. I moved my lips against Jaemin’s in slow sync, letting the sweet sensation strip me of the last remains of dignity. I was to savor every second of it, basking in bliss.

“Ekhem,” Jaehyun grunted, starting to feel a little bit flustered. “You guys done?”

Once we broke apart to take a breath, Jaehyun spoke again.

“Have you seen Jiwoo, by the way?”

“Yeah, I think she went for a smoke with Lucas,” I answered casually, watching panic display on Jaehyun’s face. It was evident he didn’t fancy the newfound information. “She went outside like half an hour ago, though. I wonder what it takes them so long,” I added, planting another grain of doubt in his subconscious.

As soon as anxiety downed on him, Jaehyun bolted outside. He better, though. If Jaehyun wasn’t going to make a move on Jiwoo tonight, I was about to find another guy to ship her with.

“You did it again,” Jaemin pointed out, and I just shrugged, dismissing his comment. So what? One push in the right direction wasn’t enough for Jaehyun to grow up, so I decided to be generous enough to give him a second chance.

“Are you ready for phase three?” I asked Jaemin, but before he managed to reply, I grabbed his hand, pulling him across the dance floor. Giggling, I ran through the sea of people, not so accidentally bumping into Chenle, almost spilling his beer.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” I hollered, giggling. Now, when I had Chenle’s attention, we could sneak upstairs to proceed with the final step of our plan. “Come on, Jaemin, let’s go. I am horny,” I added, probably overdoing my part. Unfortunately, the words were already spoken. I couldn’t take them back.

Having locked the bathroom doors behind us, I jumped onto the countertop. “Don’t you think it’s a bit creepy they’re gonna eavesdrop on us bang? It’s kinda off-putting, you know…”

When Jaemin wanted to speak, somebody knocked on the doors. It must’ve been one of Jaemin’s friends, checking if we were indeed fucking. “It’s occupied,” Jaemin hollered, mentioning for me to start my performance.

“Fuck, Jaemin! Eat me out, already,” I yelled, pressing my hands against my mouth, trying to stifle my laugher. This situation was ridiculous, and I couldn’t help myself but giggle. I had only a few drinks, yet I felt like I was high as a kite. “Yes, like that! Ahhh…”

“Can’t wait to fuck that tight hole,” Jaemin played along, almost dying of alcohol-induced tittering. We were definitely having too much fun.

“Right there, Jaemin!” I screamed, holding my stomach as it began aching due to excessive cackling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there,” I moaned loudly, kicking my head back. “Don’t tease me, please!”

“I gotta get you ready for my cock, love,” Jaemin growled, and I gasped, my mind conjuring the forbidden image®.

“Just fuck me! I need your cock inside of me now!” I groaned, hoping whoever was on the other side of the doors heard enough of what was going inside. “Mmmm… you stretch me out so well…” I purred, almost falling off the counter when another round of uncontrollable laughter tried to erupt from my throat.

“Fuck, you’re still so tight.”

“Jaemin! Fuck, I am close. Keep going,” I yelled, mentally preparing for the big finale. This whole act was a vocal performance, and it was time I finished. “I’m coming! Come with me!”

“It was spectacular,” Jaemin whispered so only I could hear him. “I have one more favor, though,” he added, shying away. Oh no, he was about to ask about something stupid.

“What is it?”

“It could’ve been some random dude,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head, unsure how to voice his supplication. “Give me your panties. It’ll be the definite proof.”

“You’re joking,” I deadpanned, staring into his eyes, waiting for him to say it was just a harmless prank. “You’re serious,” I added as soon as I realized Jaemin meant it.

“Come on, I won’t be sniffing them,” Jaemin nagged, and I rolled my eyes. I didn’t even think about it, but now that he mentioned it, I had another reason not to comply with his weird-ass request. “I’ll give them back, I promise.”

“I can’t believe I am considering this,” I cursed under my breath. If any other person would like such a favor from me, I’d deny it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, I had a soft spot for Jaemin, so denying him didn’t come easy to me.

Hell, I wouldn’t be here if I was able to say no to him.

“You owe me big time,” I caved in, jumping off the countertop, stepping behind the shower curtain, providing myself with some privacy. “Don’t peek. Even if I slip, you gotta stay on the other side. Got it?” I added as I stuck my head through the curtain.

“Scout’s honor,” Jaemin pledged, and I rolled my eyes. He was a scout for maybe a week. His honor didn’t mean shit.

Clumsily, I took off my shoes and jeans. “Here,” I warned before I threw my panties over the curtain. “I am too sober for this,” I nagged, trying to put my skinny jeans back on.

“Let’s do celebratory shots!” Jaemin suggested, balling up my undergarments, hiding them in his pocket. “We deserve it,” he added, landing me a helping hand when I was stepping out of the shower.

“Let’s go.”

***

Needless to say, Jaemin won the bet.

Unfortunately, it meant the inevitable end of our fake relationship. It was fun when it lasted, and though I’d miss these times, it was time to set the record straight.

As we had discussed, we had to arrange our break up.

Sometime next week, Jaemin stopped by to give me half of the prize. Since the boys had been stupid enough to fall for our little charade, I received a large sum of money. It was Chenle who sponsored the prize. Because of that, I didn’t feel particularly sorry about deceiving them. After all, Chenle was so loaded; he wouldn’t notice if he lost that kind of money on the street. I could finally buy these shoes which I had been dreaming of for so long! Better yet, I'd still have some money left to spoil myself some more.

“How should we do it?” Jaemin asked quietly. Ever since he came, he avoided my gaze, staring at the floor.

“I don’t know,” I unwillingly answered. This conversation was the last thing I wanted to do right now, but it had to be done. Better sooner or later, before I’d catch some real feelings for Jaemin. I had no idea how I would pick up the pieces of my broken heart if we kept this act any longer. “Let’s just delete all posts we published. Someone will figure out something’s wrong, and when they spread the word, we’ll explain we decided to remain friends.”

Maybe I wasn’t in tears, but I felt regret wash through me. Though our relationship had never been a real thing, it felt like it.

And it hurt.

“Alright then,” Jaemin complied, rubbing his hands against his thighs before he pulled out his phone to erase any digital footprint of our brief romance. His thumb hovered over the delete button for a while. After a few moments of hesitation, when he didn’t hear any sign of protest from my side, he pressed it, sending our memories to a bottomless void. “And it’s gone.”

“Are we cool?” I asked, hoping that nothing would change between us. I had a hunch it would take me some time to get used to how things had been before the relationship fiasco. Nonetheless, I still had hope we could remain best friends without any awkwardness.

“Of course,” Jaemin answered with a faint smile, but I didn’t fully believe him. Something was off, and it bothered us. Shame that none of us dared to begin this topic.

After he left that day, we saw each other very seldom. We barely even spoke to one another. If it wasn’t for the group chats we were both in, we wouldn’t talk at all.

Jaemin had said we were cool, but it was evident we weren’t.

It was eating me from the inside out, but whenever somebody asked me about the break-up, I’d always shrug it off, confirming everything’s great. I would tell our friends nothing changed between us. There was nothing wrong; our schedules are just incompatible these days.

When I had pretended I was in a relationship with Jaemin, it was easy. It came naturally, and everyone ate it up without any second thoughts. Unfortunately, now, when I was trying to play it cool, no one seemed to buy it. Thankfully, they didn’t confront me about it. Instead, they offered me their support if I ever needed anything.

In my head, I had a few wild scenarios in which I tell Jaemin we should date for real. However, at the same time, a little devil on my shoulder was telling me it should never leave the realm of fantasy. It’s ridiculous to think Jaemin would reciprocate my feelings.

I felt as if sadness took over my body. Though I was smiling on the outside, I was filled with regret. Barely anything sparked joy these gloomy days. Even this pair of shoes, which I wanted so badly, didn’t stir any positive emotion. I bought them, but I never took them out of the box.

Jiwoo had taken me out on a few girls’ nights to make me feel better. Men are trash – she would always say when Jaehyun ignored her yet another text. Even though they had fucked each other at Jaehyun’s birthday party and agreed to become exclusive, Jaehyun still had lots of problems committing to a monogamous relationship. They hadn’t officially labeled it, but everyone knew Jaehyun was slowly caving in.

Fratboys’ habits die hard, but Jaehyun was finally shaping himself into boyfriend material. He no longer slept around, as far to my knowledge at least, but he still lacked in some departments. For instance, it would take him way too much to text back.

“You were so adorable together,” Jiwoo began after she gulped down another rum and coke. Despite her high alcohol tolerance, she was already drunk, speaking with no filter. “I mean… you were simping for him for so long, and you finally managed to jump that dick.”

“Your point being…” I inquired, finishing my drink. Though Jaemin and I had never had sex, I didn’t want to admit that. What would Jiwoo thought if I told her it was all-pretend?

“I shipped you guys so hard,” Jiwoo confessed. “Ten shipped you too, but he will never admit that,” she added, and I giggled. Now, that was an interesting take. Ten was so random at many aspects of life; it came to me as a surprise he even had an opinion on my relationship with Jaemin. “Can I just take some duck tape and put my ship back together?”

“I am not sure Jaemin would like that,” I answered with a sigh, my mood instantly decreasing.

“Nonsense,” Jiwoo replied in a heartbeat. “This guy is even worse than you,” she revealed, and I rolled my eyes, not buying this. At least a few times a week, at my lowest moments, I happened to check Jaemin’s social media updates. He didn’t seem to mope around at all.

“I find it hard to believe,” I muttered, trying not to get too emotional.

“I mean it,” Jiwoo confirmed her previous statement, eager to explain her thesis. “Jaehyun and I went on a little date to the coffee shop where Jaemin works,” she started, and I nodded, not really sure what she was getting at. Nonetheless, I let her continue. I was curious what Jaemin had been up to. And since he didn’t seem to want to tell me anything himself, I’d accept any type of second-hand information from Jiwoo. “Jaemin misses you. You have no idea how many times I caught him daydreaming. He still has your photo set on his lock screen, and he stares at it a lot.”

Now, that’s interesting.

I had no recollection of Jaemin ever setting my photo as his background picture. Even if Jiwoo was right, it meant he set after we had broken up. It made no sense at all, and I was too drunk to try to comprehend the meaning of this.

Instead, I ordered another round, trying to stifle all the brooding emotions within me.

***

February was the month of parties. Too many birthdays fell during this hectic period, and I had trouble keeping up with them. Fortunately, Ten’s party was the last one of the month. After a small get together at our place, I’d have some time off to relax by myself, most preferably, without alcohol.

Being the semi-hosts with Jiwoo, it was our duty to help Ten organize everything regarding his party. Though our trio was a little bit disorganized, somehow, we managed to get everything ready before anyone arrived.

Maybe it wasn’t comparable to birthday parties at fraternity houses; it still had its charm. It wasn’t as wild, but guests still were having a great time in the company of their closest friends. However, what was the most important, Ten had a blast.

It was his day; he deserved everything he wanted.

Trying my best not to embarrass Ten, I decided to socialize with his friends.

It was time I move on. It took me way too long to mourn a relationship that wasn’t even real. I couldn’t let my brooding mood ruin the party.

“Hmm… Ten has never mentioned you before,” I confessed, not finding it particularly odd. Ten didn’t have secretive nature; he just wasn’t the type of person to over-share. And he often forgot to even mention stuff about his personal life.

“I can’t say I am surprised,” Hendery replied, making me giggle. It was fun chatting with him. Hendery was hilarious, and he knew many secrets regarding Ten. It was my mission to get as much information from him as it was possible. I would need it for blackmailing purposes, of course.

Hiding out in the kitchen, we sipped beer and exchanged rumors as if we were two gossip girls. It was too entertaining to stop. I was incredibly immersed in the conversation; I didn’t even realize when someone tapped my shoulder.

“Can we talk?” I heard the question, recognizing the voice in an instant. It belonged to Jaemin, and it seemed to be laced with both jealousy and irritation. The way he phased his plea gave me flashbacks of the conversation we had at Jaehyun’s party.

I really wanted to continue my discussion with Hendery, but I couldn’t say no to Jaemin. It wasn’t how my brain was programmed. Besides, I missed him a lot.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” I told Hendery before I grabbed Jaemin’s hand, leading him to my room, locking the doors behind us.

“Nothing was supposed to change,” Jaemin started as he sat at the edge of my bed, leaning forward with his upper body propped on his elbows. His gaze was trained on the floor, too frustrated to look up at me.

“I know,” I whispered as I sat down in my chair on the other side of the room. My first instinct was to kneel in front of Jaemin, kiss his forehead, and assure him that everything’s going to be alright.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like a good idea, so I refrained from doing so. “I am sorry, it’s my fault.”

“Don’t,” Jaemin interjected before I embarrassed myself even further. “We’re both at fault.”

Despite the loud party noises coming from the other side of the doors, my bedroom was filled with deafening silence. It was awfully uncomfortable, and it was probably a good thing. One of us would get annoyed eventually and cave in, letting out all the bottled up emotions.

“I missed you,” I admitted, staring at my hands. I was all fidgety, and although I was too embarrassed to reveal my inner feelings, Jaemin deserved to know this much.

“I missed you, too,” he genuinely confessed, showing me a shy smile. “Actually, I missed you more than I thought it was possible to miss a person,” Jaemin carried on, and I held my breath, not ready to hear whatever he had to say. “You have no idea how much I wanted to text you or call you, but ultimately decided not to because I was sure you don’t want me to.”

“Jaemin,” I spoke, not really sure what I should say next. I had too many things I wanted to tell him about. However, now when he was here, I couldn’t properly voice my thoughts.

“Are you dating this guy you were talking to in the kitchen?” Jaemin asked out of the blue, catching me off guard with this random accusation. “Or do you want to date him? You two looked like you’re having a great time together,” he added, and I rolled my eyes. At first, Jaemin acted on his jealously, but then, insecurity crept in.

“I don’t know. I met Hendery today, but he seems like a great guy,” I answered honestly, thinking of possibilities of me trying to pursing something of romantic nature with Hendery. After our brief encounter, I could tell he’s fun to be around. And honestly speaking, I might’ve considered dating him if I hadn’t already had feelings for someone else.

Unfortunately, right now, I wasn’t in the right state of mind to date. Not when I was still hung up on my best friend.

“I probably won’t, though. I like somebody else,” I confessed, gaining Jaemin’s interest. Instantly, he sat up, staring into my eyes, patiently waiting for the reveal. “I am stupid, but I like this one guy. He’s such a jerk, I can’t even… he’s been ghosting me for weeks now,” I carried on, hoping Jaemin would get the hint.

Two weeks ago, we promised each other nothing would change. Despite our good intentions, it did. Even though I hadn’t told Jaemin how I really felt, I still lost my best friend.

My silence didn’t save this friendship. I tried to bottle up my emotions to secure our unbreakable bond. It didn’t work, so I figured confessing my feelings wouldn’t do any more harm. Surely, Jaemin was going to reject me, but at least, I’d clear the air between us.

Hopefully, my confession, followed by a harsh rejection, would help me move on.

Instantly, Jaemin ran up to my chair and knelt in front of me, trying to look into my eyes. “Please tell me this jerk is me,” Jaemin urgently spoke, unable to handle any more suspense. Jaemin’s gaze was hopeful, and it was too much for me to comprehend.

“What?” I asked, still being overwhelmed by confusion. What was going on? Why was Jaemin on his knees in front of me? Nothing made sense. How was I supposed to wrap my head around it? “I mean… yeah, it’s you. Who else could it be?”

“You have no idea how sorry I am,” Jaemin confessed as he grabbed my hand and yanked me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me, giving me a tight hug. “You could’ve said something… anything,” he added as he pulled back his head, placing a chase kiss against my forehead.

“I didn’t want to scare you away,” I admitted quietly, unable to break free from Jaemin’s cone-crashing embrace. I couldn’t believe he was so close. Na Jaemin was holding me in his arms, letting me listen to his rapid heartbeat.

“The worst two weeks of my life,” Jaemin spoke, once again breaking the silence. “It felt at least like two centuries,” he added, making me chuckle. Of course, it was an exaggeration, but it’s how I felt, too.

“How about we start over?” I proposed, taking a step backward to have a proper look at him. “Will you go on a date with me? This time around for real, no pretending,” I carried on, trying not to grin like an idiot.

“No.”

“What?”

What the fuck was that?

Did I misunderstand Jaemin’s words? I thought he felt the same, but apparently, he didn’t? Everything suggested he followed my flow only to crush my expectations, later on, leaving a big ass scar and more trust issues.

“I mean yes, but I should be me asking you out. Definitely not the other way around,” Jaemin clarified, making me relax. Thankfully, my mini panic attack was uncalled for. It was just my brain over-analyzing everything, conjuring the worst possible scenario.

“Then you better do your best to woo me,” I teased, wondering if he was willing enough to take the bait. It was just a mere joke, reminding me how it all began. He had wooed me once, and I wasn’t going to oppose to a second attempt. “Fun dates, romantic messages, silly gifts. I want it all,” I added, going a little bit overboard with my request list.

“Everything can be arranged,” Jaemin replied with a lopsided smile before he tightened his grip, almost crashing my bones in the process.

***

Jaemin and I began dating. This time around, it was real; no more pretending, no more stupid bets. Just two people who had discovered friendship could never be enough.

Even though I had told Jaemin I was just joking about this whole wooing thing, he refused to accept it, going to extreme lengths to make my heart flutter. I was already stupidly in love with him, yet he kept trying to make me swoon even more.

Despite our busy schedules, we made sure to see each other every day. It could’ve been a date at the arcade or just a quick coffee or a video call. In all honestly, I gladly accepted any form of contact from Jaemin.

I hated the prospect of going through a day without any message from him.

Except for many mini and maxi dates, Jaemin would also spoil me with plenty of encouraging notes of many kinds. Each massage from Jaemin was even sillier from the previous one. He never ceased to amaze me.

At first, Jaemin would stick post-it notes in different places in my room. Whenever I paid no attention, he would quickly write one for me to find it later. Whenever I saw sleep tight message stuck to my bedpost or you looked extra sexy today attached to the mirror, I smiled like an idiot, imaging Jaemin writing it.

If Jaemin forgot about post-it notes, he would always make it up to me by sending me corny direct messages. We would always text each other before sleep, and Jaemin never failed to make me smile with words such as:

If you happen to have wet dreams of me, you gotta tell me everything that happened. We can recreate it later.

I saw some sexy lingerie on my way home. Your ass would look amazing in it. I’m gonna buy it for you when I get my paycheck.

You’re the reason I wake up in the morning. Just kidding, I have to pee.

Whenever we went out, Jaemin would also scribble something either on a napkin or on a receipt. One time, Jaemin even gave a crumbled piece of paper that he was carrying in his pocket for some reason.

You know I’d give you my kidney, right? And a piece of the liver if you ask nicely. I hope you would do the same for me.

When we have kids, I’ll let you name the first one. Don’t fuck it up.

You’re my favorite pain in the ass.

You are stuck with me. You better get used to it.

Messy notes weren’t sufficient for Jaemin. Although I was more than content with the attention and affection he was giving me, it wasn’t enough for Jaemin. With each massage, he had to out-do himself.

Jaemin even wrote me a song! Or at least, he tried to write me a song.  It was really bold of him to assume I didn’t know the lyrics to Jonas Brothers’ Sucker. I loved this song, and even though I perfectly knew it wasn’t Jaemin’s piece of work, I still appreciated the gesture.

Later on, his love letters reached another level of ridiculousness. Jaemin sent me a love e-mail, and if that doesn’t prove how extra he can get, I don’t know what can.

Jaemin didn’t stop there. No, it was just a warm-up.

When I was checking the mailbox, I found a paper plane stuck in between bills. Jaemin must’ve put it there, probably after one of his frequent visits to my apartment. Though the paper plane was a little bit crumbled, I found it incredibly adorable. On its wing, it had “open me” written with Jaemin’s messy handwriting. Inside there was a corny message that turned my insides in absolute cringe.

Your wings already exist. All you have to do is fly.

A few days later, Jaemin gave me a CD with the love playlist he had made for me. Carefully, he had chosen our favorite songs and burned them on a disc. I had no means to actually play it, but I adored the gesture.

Jaemin’s creativity did not disappoint. At this point, he might send me a love letter via a fax machine, and I wouldn’t be surprised. There were no limitations to his imagination, and it was one of the many things I loved about him.

Neither of us dropped the L-bomb yet, but we really didn’t need to. Though that dreaded word has yet to be spoken, we perfectly knew how we felt about each other. We would do anything for one another; no doubt in that.

Having exceeded my expectations, Jaemin proved himself worthy of being my boyfriend. Or rather, he showed me he was way out of my league. When he was bending over backward, I was passively basking in the glory of Jaemin’s confessions. Relationships were about giving and taking, and it seemed our balance was off.

It was time we switched roles. It was only fair if I tried to creep my way into his heart the way he had been wooing mine.

As soon as I cleaned up the apartment and pampered myself a little bit, I pulled out my phone, quickly texting Jaemin. Hopefully, he wasn’t that busy.

my love 💖 | 18:12 | U want to come over?

baNANA 🍓 | 18:16 | 😏

baNANA 🍓 | 18:16 | You miss me???

my love 💖 | 18:17 |  🤡 🤡 🤡 🤡 🤡

my love 💖 | 18:17 | nvm forget I asked

baNANA 🍓 | 18:17 | 😧 😧 😧

baNANA 🍓 | 18:18 | I’ll be in an hour

baNANA 🍓 | 18:18 | want me to bring anything?

my love 💖 | 18:19 | nah, just get your cute butt over here

baNANA 🍓 | 18:19 | ?????

baNANA 🍓 | 18:19 | are you high??

baNANA 🍓 | 18:19 | should I be concerned?

Okay, I had an hour to prepare something for our impromptu date. It was fine; it was more than enough than I needed. The apartment was already clean, so I just had to whip something to eat and cool the bubbles.

For some reason, I felt in a celebratory mood. Whatever tempo Jaemin and I had, it worked in two week periods. We had fake-dated for fourteen days before we called it quits. Then, we didn’t talk to each other for two weeks. Tonight another period came by, and I wanted to celebrate it, hoping to break the unfortunate chain of bad luck.

The alcohol was already in the refrigerator. Having put on an apron, I opened all the cabinets around the kitchen, quickly analyzing the ingredients and what I can make out of them. It wasn’t much, but pasta would have to be enough.

It wasn’t a fancy dish, but I was made it with love, so Jaemin shouldn’t have any complaints. Pouring my emotions into the pasta was to make it extra flavorful.

When the sauce was slowly cooking on the stove, I decorated the table. I wanted to provide Jaemin with some high-end restaurant experience despite being in my cramped apartment. It was the best thing out of two words; we had all privacy in the world offered by a homely atmosphere, but at the same time, we would eat some beautifully garnished food.

Just when I was about to drain the pasta, someone knocked on the doors.

“Coming,” I hollered before I put the pot in the sink, wiping my hands on the apron before making my way to answer the doors. “Hey there, beautiful,” I greeted Jaemin with a playful remark, standing on my toes to press a brief smooch on his adorable lips. It took him off guard, but in some sense, he liked it.

“Hey, it’s my line,” Jaemin nagged when his hands found purchase on my hips, bringing me closer for another kiss since one was never enough. “What do you have there? It smells delicious,” Jaemin turned his head, trying to peek inside to see what surprise I had prepared for him.

“You know, just some carbs,” I answered vaguely, sending him a playful smirk, not wanting to ruin the surprise. I wanted him to sit down at the table and wait for me to bring the whole dish and pour us some cheap champagne.

Jaemin took off his shoes, kicking them to the side. A second later, he handed me his coat, and I put it on the hanger. Jaemin was wearing a pair of gray jeans and a mint oversized hoodie, and I drooled over this comfortable look. He didn’t have to try hard to impress me.

“Just wait here. I’ll be back in a sec,” I spoke when I guided Jaemin to the table, forcing him to sit down in the chair. Jaemin wanted to help me out in the kitchen, but I firmly refused. Tonight I wished to impress Jaemin; he didn’t have to move a finger.

“I know it’s not much, but I hope you’ll still like it,” I whispered when I put a plate in front of him. “Dig in,” I added as I sat on the other side of the table, carefully trying to pop the champagne bottle open. Though I hated doing it, too afraid of breaking something or hurting someone, tonight I wanted to try it.

“What’s the occasion,” Jaemin wondered as he fondly watched me fight with the bottle. “Do you need some help? You’re gonna hurt yourself,” Jaemin offered, genuinely concerned about my safety. However, I just turned around, wanting to finish it by myself.

It took me good five minutes to pop it. And when I finally did it, Jaemin gave me a round of pitiful applause, officially declaring it’s his job from now on.

“It was just painful to watch,” Jaemin playfully commented, and I kicked his shin under the table, showing him how much appreciated his remark was. “So… what’s the occasion?”

“Do I really need to have a reason to spoil my boyfriend?” I innocently asked, batting my eyelashes, and Jaemin smiled at the word boyfriend. We had never discussed labels, but it was self-explanatory we were in a loving relationship. “I figured it’d be nice to give you some more attention,” I absentmindedly added as I reached for my phone to play some soft EDM music through the Bluetooth speaker.

“Is that it?” Jaemin wondered, gazing into my eyes, searching for any ulterior motive I might have. “Are you sure you’re not trying to butter me up before you say something I may not like? What did you do?” Jaemin inquired, and I chuckled loudly.

“Calm down, Na,” I spoke, making Jaemin look up at me once again. I only called him by his surname when I was extra affectionate, so he was curious what I was going to say. “I just wanted to hang out with you. That’s all,” I confessed, but Jaemin scrutinized his eyes, not really buying my innocent talk. “Okay, fine. There’s one more thing.”

“What is it?” Jaemin inquired, grinning at me.

“Can’t you already tell? I am trying to woo my way into your pants, duh,” I confessed, and Jaemin choked on his champagne as he did not expect this wording. “Your heart! I meant to say into your heart,” I corrected when I realized my little Freudian slip. “Wait, no, screw it. I second that. I want to get into both.”

“You’ve already got into one,” Jaemin declared with a lopsided smirk pinned to his face. “But... if you don’t suspect it already, you’re welcome in both,” he added mischievously, taking a sip of his alcohol. I, on the other hand, looked away, feeling the heat in my cheeks.

“Good to know.”

“Where are Jiwoo and Ten by the way?” Jaemin wondered as he looked around the apartment, finding it suspicious they didn’t crash our date yet. Under typical circumstances, Jiwoo or Ten would haul another chair to the table and steal the food, third-wheeling our date.

“Ten is at the dance studio. He’s having a dance competition next week, so he goes there every time he has some free time to practice. And Jiwoo is with Jaehyun. He came here to pick her up a few hours ago. I don’t think either of them is coming home anytime soon,” I explained, smirking. We had the place to ourselves.

Finally, we could bask in each other’s company without any intrusive guests.

“I’d like to cheers to that,” Jaemin raised his glass, clinking it gently against mine.

Having eaten the food, we moved to the couch.

“What now?” Jaemin asked as he stretched his arm, resting it on the back of the couch right over my shoulders.

“I have one more surprise,” I announced before I jumped to my feet. “Wait a second,” I added before bolting to my bedroom.

“What is it?” Jaemin inquired, having no clue what else I could surprise him with. “What do you have there?” He pressed, tilting his head to the side, trying to see what I was hiding behind my back.

“Let’s take some pictures,” I announced in excitement, showing him my Polaroid camera. “I finally bought some film, and I really want our photo in my wallet,” I added as I plopped down onto the couch, resting my head against Jaemin’s chest. “You take it,” I ordered, handing him the camera. After all, he was the prodigy of photography. Besides, his hands were longer than mine.

“I think that’s more than enough,” Jaemin spoke after snapping the twelfth picture.

Having put the camera on the coffee table, he wrapped his arms around me. Jaemin pulled me on his laps, embracing me tightly, placing a round of pecks against my temple.

“Wait! One more thing,” I hollered, leaning forward to reach for the envelope which was lying on the coffee table next to our photos.

“You can’t say it’s the last thing and then bring another one. That’s not how it works,” Jaemin nagged, a little flustered that I managed to find another excuse when he wanted to cuddle. “Who are you? A fitness instructor? When you say it’s the last one, it should be the last one. You can’t come up with new ones every three minutes.”

“I promise it’s the last one,” I sat cross-legged on the couch beside him, handing him the envelope. Cautiously, he pulled the card out of it, and I looked at him, studying his expression in excitement.

“Annoyingly, I like you way more than I’d originally planned,” Jaemin read the cover of the card, smiling widely at the passive-aggressive message. “It’s already good, and I didn’t even read what you wrote inside,” he commented before he leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “I don’t get it,” he added in confusion as he saw the blank page inside the card.

“It’s my love letter for you,” I clarified, but Jaemin was still clueless.

“It’s a blank page. You really have that little to say?” Jaemin asked, trying to make sense out of my card.

“That’s not how you were supposed to interpret that!” I yelled, climbing on his laps, wanting to tear the card out of his ungrateful hands. Unfortunately, Jaemin’s hands were longer than mine, so even when I was hovering over his thighs, I couldn’t reach it.

“How was I supposed to interpret that then?” Jaemin challenged, holding my hips, forcing them down on his laps.

“I wanted to write something meaningful, but I just couldn’t decide what. I have so many things I want to tell you, it wouldn’t even fit on the card,” I started, trying to find the best way to form a coherent sentence. “One way to interpret it is that you have to imagine it’s written in a very tiny font. Because I have so much to tell you, I wrote everything down, but you just can’t read it.”

“I like it,” Jaemin whispered, pressing a gentle kiss against my knuckles.

“Or you can say it’s blank because whenever I’m with you, my head is completely empty,” I added, chuckling at the corny confession. “Or you can assume there are no words to describe my feelings for you.”

“How is it possible that without writing anything, you managed to top all of my love letters?” Jaemin wondered, smiling at me. “What kind of sorcery is this?”

“No, Jaemin. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. I loved your love letters. They were silly, but at the same time, I could feel you really meant everything,” I reasoned, looking down at Jaemin’s lips, slowly leaning in for a delicate kiss.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Jaemin suddenly spoke as he grabbed my butt and threw me off his laps. “I need a pen,” he added, looking around the living room, finding the pen on the coffee table. In a hurry, he scribbled down something on the blank page of the card, making sure I couldn’t peek. “Here, I found my way to interpret it.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Jaemin answered confidently, handing me the card. “Read it out loud for me.”

“Okay, I guess,” I cleared my throat before I opened the card. “My beloved Jaemin,” I read, looking at Jaemin’s face with a raised eyebrow. This was going to be good.

“Carry on,” he urged, and I shook my head, unable to believe I was going to do it.

“You’re the most handsome man I have ever seen. You’re also the smartest and the funniest. Not to mention, you’re the best kisser in the world. What the fuck is this?” I interjected, having doubts, knowing it was a bad idea.

“Just keep reading, babe,” Jaemin ordered, wanting me to carry on with his antics. “Though you’re no poet, it’s, by a huge margin, the best love letter I have ever received,” he added, blowing his ego way out of proportion, and I rolled my eyes.

“Now, when I look at you, I understand there’s not a chance I wouldn’t fall for you. So, since there’s not much space left, I just wanna tell you that I love you. I really love you, Jaemin.”

Before I managed to complain that he forced me to say the L-word first, Jaemin interjected.

“Finally, took you long enough,” he teased, and I sighed, wondering where to hit him first. “As if you haven’t figured it out yet, I love you, too.”

“You’re impossible,” I commented, still not quite sure if we just confessed to each other.

“I’m impossible not to fall in love with,” Jaemin corrected, once again hauling me back on his laps, taking my breath away with a fervent kiss. “How about you show me how you want to get into my pants, babe?”

Having had enough of Jaemin’s teasing, I decided not to comply with his request.

“I think you should go.”

“You’re right,” Jaemin agreed too quickly, and it made me alert. “Let’s go to your room because once I start pounding into you, I will not stop even if a group of nuns was about to break in and steal all of your shit,” he added as he picked me up, carrying me to my bedroom.

“You’re impossible,” I repeated my words when Jaemin threw me onto my bed before he landed on it right beside me.

“I think we’ve already discussed this,” he remarked, reminding me of the remark he had given me earlier. “So… where were we?” Jaemin asked as he put his hand on my side, pulling me closer. Soon enough, his palm slipped under the hem of my shirt, caressing my skin.

“Is it weird that the only thing I can think about is you eating me out?” I wondered out loud, stripped of all remains of dignity. Jaemin was in my bed, and I was planning on taking full advantage of it.

“Not at all, love,” Jaemin replied, showing me his eager smile. Quickly, he sat on his calves between my legs, taking his time to take off my jeans. “I thought about eating you out way too often ever since that thing in the bathroom,” Jaemin confessed as he threw my jeans across the room.

Though my panties were still on, Jaemin began his teasing. His soft lips trailed across my thighs, driving me crazy. His lips touched every inch of my skin except for the area I wanted the most. At this point, my panties were dripping wet, yet he didn’t even think of pulling them to the side, giving attention to my much-ignored core.

“You’re killing me,” I whispered, slowly losing patience. If Jaemin kept up with his antics, I’d combust out of sexual frustration. “Bold of you to assume I won’t let you taste your own medicine,” I warned Jaemin. It worked because as soon as I voiced my mischievous threat, Jaemin’s finger hooked under the hem of my panties, quickly pulling them down my legs.

“You’re no fun at all,” Jaemin clarified before his lips finally landed on my clit, making me buckle my hips in an instant. Slowly, his mouth moved against my sweet spot, and I arched my back with each swirl of his tongue.

Though he barely started, I could feel the electricity coursing through my body. In my state of permanent frustration, it wouldn’t be difficult for Jaemin to make me come against his mouth.

Getting into it, Jaemin squeezed my hips, trying to keep me still when he ate me out. His jaw was dripping in my juices as he made his way down to lick my folds.

“Fuck,” I moaned loudly when Jaemin’s nose rubbed my clit when he was running his tongue all over my entrance. “I think I am gonna come,” I admitted what made Jaemin smirk through the kiss. Jaemin barely touched me, but I was already close.

“Come for me,” Jaemin urged, releasing my hips from his firm grip. Now when I could buckle my hips against his face, my orgasm was just seconds away. With my hand in his hair, I rocked my hips, basking in pleasure.

“I need your fingers,” I begged, and Jaemin quickly obeyed my shameful plea. I expected him to tease me further, denying me his long fingers, but he was kind enough to do anything to make me come.

Thanks to my juices and Jaemin’s saliva, his two fingers slid right in.

“Fuck,” I shouted at the top of my voice when the wave of pleasure shot right through me. Jaemin’s jaw still played with my clit as he continued his actions throughout the orgasm.

“You blew my mind, Jaemin,” I muttered after I regained my focus after he had made me come on his face. “I came so hard,” I confessed, smiling like an idiot. It was way too long ever since someone made me feel this good.

“You better get used to it because I am planning this to be a frequent occurrence,” Jaemin whispered, looking at my face as if it was an art piece. “Do you have condoms?” he casually asked as he pulled down his jeans. His erected cock was restrained in the denim fabric, and Jaemin needed to get rid of it.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I replied as I opened the bedside table and threw a brand new package of condoms at Jaemin’s chest. “Jiwoo got me those after she walked on our pillow fight the other day. Apparently, she doesn’t want any cum stains on the couch.”

For a while, we were lying on the bed, staring at each other. Jaemin gave me some time to recover from my orgasm. According to him, I needed to take breaks because he didn’t want to over-stimulate me too soon.

“I really love you,” Jaemin confessed genuinely, and I quickly rolled closer to him, giving him another chase smooch. His confession was music to my ears, and I could listen to it on repeat without getting tired of it.

“I love you, too,” I quickly replied, leaning in for another kiss. With his hand on my cheek, he deepened the kiss, giving us another chance to get lost in the love trance.

Having thrown my leg over his hipbone, I hovered over his erection.

“Let me take care of you,” I said as I pulled away from the kiss. With a playful smirk upon my face, I grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Slowly after, my bra followed suit, and Jaemin grunted upon seeing me completely naked in front of him.

“Sexy,” he purred before he eagerly took off his hoodie, throwing it onto the floor. “On a second thought, maybe you should put something on. You’re too sexy, and I’d like to last longer,” Jaemin explained, handing me his hoodie so I could cover myself up. “No, it’s even worse. Take it off,” he changed his mind after seeing me in his clothes.

Carefully, I pulled Jaemin’s boxers down his legs, letting his rock hard cock spring free. Biting on my lips, I grabbed his erection, giving it a few gentle strokes.

“Fuck it, I am ready,” Jaemin yelled, placing his hand over mine, making me stop. “You have all the time in the world to blow me. Right now, I want to feel you,” he added, quickly pulling out a condom from its packaging.

“Let me at least roll it down for you,” I offered, and Jaemin sighed, weighing his options.

“Nah, I am not willing to take that risk,” Jaemin answered, proceeding to wrap his cock by himself. “Now, come here, sit down on it,” he urged, and I shook my head. Smiling like an idiot, I guided his cock towards my entrance, slowly sinking down on his length.

“You’re good?” I asked, trying to guess what was going on inside his brain. Judging by his sour expression, he must’ve been thinking about something terrible in order to stop himself from coming too soon.

“Yes, everything’s cool,” he reassured, and I took it as permission to gently rock my hips back and forth. Whenever I moved, Jaemin kept grunting quietly. Apparently, he also suffered from sexual frustration.

My hands were wandering all over his muscular chest, admiring his athletic built. My hips were moving at a steady rhythm, but whenever I happened to increase the tempo, Jaemin would slow me down with a firm grip on my hips.

“If you keep doing that, I might spank you,” Jaemin warned me, but it only made me want to disobey more. “Why did I even expect you to be a good girl?” Jaemin asked, rolling his eyes.

“Spank me,” I ordered, trying my best not to chuckle. “I dare you,” I added, pushing the right buttons. “Like that,” I moaned when Jaemin’s hand collided against my butt, shaking me with newfound excitement.

“You’re impossible,” Jaemin comment, still in shock after discovering how much into spanking I happened to be.

“I’m impossible not to fall in love with,” I remarked, using Jaemin’s own words against him.

Unable to handle my teasing, Jaemin sat up. “I love you so much,” Jaemin stated once again before he looked at my lips, kissing them. Now, when I was distracted by his tongue, it was easier for him to control my movement.

In our upgraded position, I significantly slowed down. Carefully, I moved up and down Jaemin’s cock, while he sneaked his hand between our entangled bodies, rubbing my clit. I was close, and I was about to come again.

I didn’t know what he was so self-conscious about. No doubt I would come first.

“Jaemin, I am coming,” I breathed out, messing up my rhythm. It was difficult to maintain the same tempo when Jaemin was playing with my clit. Jaemin’s lips moved down my neck, finding a perfect spot on my collarbone to leave a hickey.

“Me, too,” Jaemin whispered as he began thrusting from underneath me, now desperate to push the both of us off the edge. “You’re so tight, fuck,” he cursed as my walls started to swell around his throbbing cock.

Jaemin moaned against my skin, muffling his sinful sounds. I, on the other hand, screamed Jaemin’s name at the top of my voice, telling everybody in the world he was the person, making me feel this good.

Having fallen onto the sheets, we looked into each other’s eyes. We were panting as if we just ran a marathon. Not that I had any doubts, but Jaemin turned out to be a passionate lover, and it made me love him even more.

“You’re beautiful,” Jaemin complimented me, staring at my face in utter admiration. “I am so lucky,” he added, and I moved closer, snuggling up to him. It was still early, but I was so fucked out, I could fall asleep right there in his arms.

Having pulled me closer to his chest, Jaemin threw a duvet over our sweaty bodies. His fingers were tracing shapes on my shoulder when he pressed yet another peck against my temple.

“Are you down for another round?” Jaemin asked as he discarded the full condom. His cock was still semi-hard. In a few minutes, Jaemin would be ready for some more. “It’s cool if you’re not,” he added, trying not to put any pressure on me.

“I want you to do me all night,” I confessed, looking over my shoulder at the clock. It’s only 8 pm, and I could stay up till daylight with Jaemin.

“Do you want to go bowling tomorrow?” Jaemin asked, and I eagerly nodded. It was fun the last time I had joined the boys on their monthly trip to the bowling alley. Besides, I would be the first woman to break the unfortunate one-time-only curse. I couldn’t wait to show up two months in a row.

“I’d love that,” I answered, snuggling closer to Jaemin’s side.

In content, we basked in happiness until Jaemin regained enough energy to go for the third time. However, this time around, it was slow and steamy. Under the covers, Jaemin crawled on top of me, kissing every inch of my body.

“Do you want to roll it down on me? I think I can handle that,” Jaemin asked, and I reached for the condom, carefully rolling it down his length. “I wish I could fuck you without one, though,” he added, and I flicked his forehead, making him whine. “I’ll pull out.”

“I trust you, but it’s still a no from me,” I replied, guiding his cock into my entrance. Inch by inch, Jaemin pushed himself all the way in. “You fill me up so well,” I praised, purring into his ear. “I love your cock.”

Distance between our bodies was practically nonexistent. Jaemin was slowly snapping his hips, rubbing his pelvic bone against my clit, turning me into a moaning mess. I wouldn’t be surprised if my neighbors called the police because of all the noise coming from my bedroom.

“One day, you’ll let me fuck you raw. I’ll make sure you do,” Jaemin carried on, and I hissed, feeling the approaching orgasm. I didn’t even bother to comment on Jaemin’s statement. I was whipped for him. I knew I wasn’t able to maintain my assertive stance for long. Eventually, I’d cave in, letting him fuck me without a condom. It wasn’t today, though.

“In your dreams, lover boy,” I answered, but Jaemin just giggled, knowing I wasn’t serious.

“You have no idea how many times we’ve done it raw in my dreams,” Jaemin confessed as he picked up his pace, pounding into my pussy, making me moan at the sudden speed. “One day, I’ll tell you all about my fantasies, but right now, I really want this pussy to cream around my cock,” he added, his filthy words making my walls squeeze around his length.

“You wait until I tell you mine,” I challenged with a smirk. If Jaemin thought he was the only one with a dirty mind, he was seriously mistaken. While most of my fantasies were PG-13, there was still a large portion of naughty scenarios. Now, when Jaemin and I were finally together, it would be fun to try to recreate at least some of them.

“You better come because I can’t go much longer,” Jaemin warned me, pounding in and out, chasing his own release. “Fuck,” he yelled, falling on top of me as he shot his load into the condom. His cock twitched inside of me as he moved slowly, riding out his orgasm.

“Jaemin,” I hollered, coming undone underneath him. Despite the other peaks, this orgasm hit me the hardest. For a brief second, my vision turned black as I gave in to the pleasure.

Breathlessly, I lay in the sheets, slowly descending from my high.

“I think all I can do tonight is cuddle,” I commented, feeling too fucked out to engage in any other form of affection. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“It’s okay. I can carry you around the house,” Jaemin answered, finding a solution for my problem. Having pulled his limp cock out of me, Jaemin rolled down another condom, putting it aside.

“What is it?” Jaemin asked as he heard a noise from the living room.

“It sounded as if someone was knocking on the doors,” I spoke, trying to identify the sound. “It must be a courier for Jiwoo. She keeps ordering stuff online. It’s probably the late evening delivery she forgot about. Can you get it?”

“No problem, babe,” Jaemin answered as he put on his jeans, walking around the bed to answer the door.

At first, I wanted to wait for Jaemin in bed. However, it’s been like three minutes, and he didn’t come back, so I found it weird.

Having put on Jaemin’s hoodie and a pair of leggings, I made my way out of the room.

Jaemin was standing by the doors, looking inside a plastic bag. Whatever it was, it smelled like Thai food. Unfortunately, it didn’t explain anything. We were here alone, and we didn’t order anything.

Just when I was about to open my mouth and ask Jaemin what the hell was going on, Ten walked out of his room. It was strange, but I saw him leave, and I didn’t hear him come back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked angrily, trying to hide my embarrassment. If he was here the whole time, he must’ve heard us having sex.

“I live here, duh,” Ten answered matter-of-factly, choosing not to give me the explanation which I desperately needed. “I think it’s mine,” Ten spoke as he walked up to Jaemin to take his Thai takeout.

Although Jaemin and I were standing in the living room in complete consternation, Ten didn’t seem to pay any attention to it. In front of his bedroom, Ten stopped in his tracks, turning his head to face me.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Ten spoke, making me even more embarrassed. “Three times, wow. It’s impressive. Don’t fuck this up, dear. He’s a keeper,” Ten added, sending me a playful wink before he disappeared inside his room.

[yellowocaballero]

Star Wars Roleswap Side Story: Obligatory Canon Cross-over

“I am where I’m supposed to be.” It was one of the few truths Obi-Wan had, but somehow it felt like a lie. He looked between the people in the room - at the fascinated Gregor and Waxer, at the uncomfortable Cody, at the serene Jedi Master. He was impenetrable in the Force, his shields drawn up high. “I can give you the names of most every clone in the 212th. Definitely everyone in the 501st. It’s not my fault you don’t know who I am.”

“You know what they say about assumptions,” the Master said mildly, and Obi-Wan groaned. “You may be surprised by what we know. For instance, I think our conversation has given me a fairly good idea of who you are.”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan drawled, “do you know an Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“Know him?” The man said, with an affected air of surprise. “Well, of course I know him. He’s me.”

Obi-Wan toppled over.

When writing longer AUs my mind wanders and small side stories crop up. Sometimes the side stories are the most self-indulgent shit physically possible. One might also say that this is me trying to prove to the world that I know how to write canon Obi-Wan. I know how to write canon Obi-Wan! I can! The key is that he’s VERY SAD!!!

Rest under the cut. It’s like 20k so sorry about that.

Obi-Wan’s vision broke, and his eyes flew open.

The scratchy, stiff sheets crumpled under his hands, the distinct faintly chemical and sweaty smell of the barracks hitting his nose. A blanket was pulled up around his shoulders, higher than Obi-Wan typically pulled it himself. He registered all of these things simultaneously, and in the next second Obi-Wan recognized that he had fallen asleep in Cody’s bed again.

He must have dropped off while they were going through the mission reports. They had been working together to track General Grievous’ movements...Obi-Wan wanted to bring a report to Master Qui-Gon. Cody should have just woken him up, he hated kicking him out of his bed and making him drag out the cot. None of the issued beds were big enough to share - something Hardcase had said was on purpose, although he wouldn’t tell Obi-Wan why. 

Obi-Wan didn’t fight a large yawn, but he rubbed at his eyes anyway and fought to focus his vision. Cody was standing in front of him - no, not in front. He was standing against the wall opposite the bunk, eyes wide, as surprised as Obi-Wan had ever seen him. Which wasn’t saying much, but he was bursting confusion into the Force. 

“Cody?” Obi-Wan asked. Or he meant to - it may have come out sleepier than he intended. “Why didn’t ya wake me up…”

Cody opened his mouth, then closed it.

Obi-Wan buried his face in the pillow, which smelled deeply of armor cleaner and sweat. The barracks smelled like sweat constantly. It was unreal. “What time is it?” Maybe there was still time to go back to sleep, if Cody let him. Probably not. If it was after 0500 then it was training time, and then aren’t you supposed to meditate time, and then eat real food time...

After one beat, then two, Cody finally said, “0900 hours.”

What! Obi-Wan bolted upright, forcing the sleepiness out as he desperately started looking for his shoes. Where were they?! “Why didn’t you wake me up?” Obi-Wan cried. Cody letting him sleep past 0500, was someone important dead? “Oh, man, I ghosted Rex - why didn’t Rex wake me up! Cody, have you seen my boots?”

But there was nothing but flabbergasted silence, and when Obi-Wan finally looked up all he saw was a confused Cody. They locked eyes for one second, two, before Cody’s expression hardened. 

“Kid, how did you get in here? I’m the only one with keycard access to my bunk.”

“You gave me access,” Obi-Wan said distractedly. He was on the floor, looking underneath the bunk for his boots. Where could they have gone? This bedroom was tiny. “Are you feeling okay? You can get short-term memory loss from too many untreated concussions, you know. Maybe you should report to Medical more.”

A large, rough hand grabbed the collar of his rumpled jacket, pulling him up. And up - Cody pulled him up until they met at eye level, leaving Obi-Wan clamoring for balance like a scruffed tooka. Again. 

“How,” Cody repeated slowly, “did you get into the clone barracks.”

“I thought you needed plausible deniability,” Obi-Wan quipped. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, the twinge of uncertainty in the Force. He tugged at Cody’s hand, almost slipping out of the jacket, until Cody put him down. He didn’t let go of Obi-Wan’s collar. Was he mad at him? Cody hadn’t gotten mad enough to shake him since that one time with the Senate and the electrical grid. “Hey, leggo’a me. Whatever it is I didn’t do it this time.”

“Seeing as I don’t remember giving a Coruscanti teenager access to a military base,” Cody said slowly, making Obi-Wan freeze, “I think you did something.” He tugged Obi-Wan around, one hand keeping him still as he scanned Obi-Wan’s face. Obi-Wan found himself frozen, almost petrified. It was Cody. He’d recognize him anywhere, his Force signature perfectly familiar - but that look in his eyes was new. It was a side he’d never seen. Cody had a lot of sides that Obi-Wan had never seen, but this coldness… “Who are you?”

The Force bubbled. It was unsteady, tempestuous - impossible to read, cold and harsh whenever he stretched out a hand. He could still feel it, the remnants of that vision that burst so harshly when he woke up. He could barely remember it, but it had happened. What had he seen? What had he felt? 

“Stars,” Obi-Wan said, dazed, “you do have amnesia.”

Cody froze. “What.”

This made sense! Obi-Wan shook himself, batting Cody’s hand away until he reluctantly released Obi-Wan. “I told you that you had to stop skipping medical!” Obi-Wan scolded, knowing that it was falling on deaf ears but savoring the opportunity to scold Cody for once. “This is what happens when you avoid Poppy all the time! Brain damage! And you call me irresponsible!”

Cody just gaped at him as Obi-Wan patted himself down. He had slept in his spacer disguise, with his comm stashed in the hidden pocket sewed into his jacket. The contents of the other hidden pocket pressed up against his back, providing a steady and reassuring weight. Obi-Wan finally fished it out as Cody started massaging his forehead, muttering to himself about what if he did have brain damage, what was happening, and pressed the emergency speed-dial for Poppy. He wouldn’t be happy about this. Obi-Wan felt gleeful. He was going to record it and sell copies. 

But his com wouldn’t connect. Ben frowned, slapping it a little. Old hunks of junk. He looked towards the shallow closet, squinting at the spot where he just knew he had taken off his shoes. He always took them off at the same spot, every time. Cody hated mud in his room. He put them on that little rack in the closet. Right underneath the extra jacket he had accidentally left there and never bothered to take back, and the spare Jedi’s robes tucked in the corner just in case something came up...where had they gone?

The Force was screeching in Obi-Wan’s ear. He was having a bad feeling about this.

“I haven’t had a concussion in a month,” Cody said crossly. Obi-Wan ignored him, walking over to the private fresher and ducking his head inside. He squinted at the toothbrush cup. There was only one… “I don’t think that’s how amnesia works.”

Not amnesia. Mission shift. Time to start spinning banthashit. Hard.

“Wouldn’t I know more about amnesia than you do?” Obi-Wan said casually, closing the door to the fresher. “Don’t you remember that battle medic course you signed me up for? Too many concussions can have a delayed effect with memory. We gotta get you to medical. I think I remember reading that amnesia can happen right before a stroke.”

Cody’s eyebrow twitched upward in alarm. “That can happen?”

It had been a while since Cody believed a single word that came out of Obi-Wan’s mouth. This was nostalgic. “Sure can,” Obi-Wan lied. “Let’s head straight there. I’ll run and go grab Rex. He’s your medical rep, he can help us figure this out.”

“Right,” Cody said slowly. “Let me just call Rex about that.”

“What did you just say? Your speech was slurring.” Obi-Wan quickly started pushing Cody out the door, body kicking into overdrive as he quickly kicked the door open. “I’ll call Rex right up. You better get going. Do you feel dizzy? Let me know if you start feeling dizzy.”

The barrack hallway was long and abandoned, which was a relief. Obi-Wan successfully wrangled Cody into the hallway, talking nonstop to trample over any second thoughts the man might be having. He successfully got them both moving towards the lifts, jamming the button to go to the first floor where the medical wing was located. Hopefully. Hopefully that was where the medical wing was located. Hopefully it hadn’t gone to where his shoes went, or his jacket and robe, or his toothbrush, or Cody -

“I’ll be right after you,” Obi-Wan said, after he wrangled Cody into the elevator and jammed the button to close the doors. “Just have to call Rex and - find my shoes. I think I left them in your room. Bye!”

The minute the lift doors closed, Obi-Wan took off at a sprint.

He considered aiming for inconspicuous, but he knew from long experience that no natborn was inconspicuous in a clone barrack. Hopefully Cody filled in his own blanks about who Obi-Wan could possibly be. Hopefully this was a Cody-limited phenomena. Regardless, Cody took security risks extremely seriously, and spending a week in the detention cells would put a crimp in Obi-Wan’s weekend plans. The last thing Obi-Wanted wanted was to be a security risk. 

It was still shore leave, and it wasn’t long before Obi-Wan inevitably ran across clones he knew as he skidded on the tile floor. The first one he saw was Wooley, walking alone down the corridor with his face in a datapad. 

“Wooley!” Obi-Wan cried, letting his socks slide him down the hallway. “Something’s up with Cody, I think he has brain damage!”

Wooley jumped, fumbling the datapad. He turned to Obi-Wan, and his far looser expression dropped into complete confusion. “Cody has - hey, who are you!”

Hypothesis tested. Worst-case scenario confirmed. Undertake evasive action. “Coruscanti scamp! Don’t worry, I’m heading home! Bye!”

Obi-Wan pushed himself down the hallway, bending his knees a little and letting the Force flow through him. 

He knew the barracks like the back of his hand, and he knew the trafficked areas. He forced himself to take detours through the service corridors, through the storage and equipment rooms, but the barracks were designed for maximum capacity and they were stuffed full of clones. He could only avoid them for so long, and eventually Obi-Wan found himself breaking out into a room of bustling clones. Laughing, talking, scowling, yelling. 

“Excuse me!” Obi-Wan cried. “Coming through!”

They all yelled or made a grab for him as he ran through the crowd, but the Force helped him evade each one. Damn their excellent reflexes. Obi-Wan was forced to jump in the air and utilize his Soresu in a truly disgraceful way, jumping off the top of Klaxon’s bald head to soar into the air and land on the other side of the crowd. Truly a bastardization of venerated saber techniques, and man would Master Anakin have loved that. Maybe he could lift it from the security footage later?

It was hard to draft plans in your head as you were running for your life, but Obi-Wan had a lot of practice. Granted, it tended to do weird things to your plans, but if they worked then they worked. Right now, Obi-Wan’s emphasis was to avoid being labelled a security risk by a barrack of clones who didn’t know he existed. Being a security risk was not fun. He would escape out the front door, hotwire a speeder, and beat feet away from here. Reconvene at Dex’s, call up the Jedi and see if they would help, fake his death, take on a new identity - 

After a series of objectively impressive parkour moves down four flights of stairs, Obi-Wan burst into the lobby of the barracks. Clones were flooding out the side of the hallways, confused and aggravated at the noise, and Obi-Wan saw the tell-tale sign of flashing red lights on their buckets. They had sent out an alert. Fantastic! 

But he was just a few feet in front of the door, and Obi-Wan pushed himself off the ground and landed right in front of it. He pushed open the double doors, not slowing down, and ran face-first into a brick wall. 

Obi-Wan fell backwards, landing on his butt with the same force of the collision. He rubbed his nose, groaning, only to look up and see that the brick wall was a very unamused Cody. Rex was at his side, equally unamused. Damn. Cody and Rex could be maneuvered into complacency separately. Together...undefeatable. 

“I will ask you one last time,” Cody said. He spoke very slowly and pointedly, and Obi-Wan winced as he recognized the ‘getting info out of perps’ voice. “Who are you.”

Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet, dusting off his jacket and fighting not to scowl. His muscles ached. It wasn’t easy to go from sleeping to running for your life in a few minutes. Qui-Gon would have been proud of that performance. Or maybe not so proud - he had gotten caught. He should have risked the fire alarm and went out through the fire exit. 

“I’m a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said. He met Cody’s steady look with one of his own, setting his jaw firm and staring him down. If they knew nothing else about them, then they would know he wasn’t a coward. “And a member of the 501st.”

Rex scoffed in disbelief, but Cody didn’t blink. He just looked him up and down, dissecting Obi-Wan under a considering eye. “Prove it.”

“Jumping down four flights of stairs didn’t prove it?” Obi-Wan asked incredulously. But he sighed, reaching into the hidden pocket in his jacket and pulling out his lightsaber. The clones surrounding them started murmuring in shock. “This proof enough for you?”

He held the lightsaber out for inspection, keeping his thumb away from the button. If they didn’t recognize him, they wouldn’t recognize the lightsaber. But Rex just hissed in shock, and Cody’s eyes widened just the smallest fraction.

“Did you steal that?” Rex demanded. 

From Rex, of all people? Obi-Wan jerked his lightsaber back to his chest, ignoring how it made the crowd ripple. “Are you calling me a chakaar?” Obi-Wan bit out. Naming somebody as a thief was serious business among clones - ‘fighting words’, as Rex put it. If you said that to someone and they punched you, then nobody would try to break it up. 

But Cody just looked him up and down again, looking for something different. Obi-Wan abruptly felt really embarrassed, although he can’t name why. “What’s your name, kid.”

Obi-Wan lifted his chin, meeting Cody squarely in the eyes. “Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. And I’m not an intruder or a thief. I’m a Jedi, so show some respect!”

Rex’s jaw dropped. The clones broke out into yells, elbowing each other or yelling at Cody. Cody just raised a hand, silencing all of them, before pressing a button on his communicator. He maintained eye contact with Obi-Wan the entire time, and for a minute it felt as if neither of them were breathing. This odd stalemate - or this odd connection - couldn’t be broken. When Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, he only felt the same old Cody as usual. He was stinking with suspicion and caution. But if Obi-Wan opened himself up to it enough, he could almost feel something different. A note out of tune, a misplaced brushstroke. Something in Cody was different than it had been yesterday. But what?

A small holographic figure popped up on the comm. Its back was to Obi-Wan, so all he could see was a long cloak and a raised hood. Rex obviously looked at the small figure, then at Obi-Wan, then back at the figure. 

“Commander. I thought you and the men were on shore leave.”

“Something came up,” Cody said shortly. “We have a visitor in the barracks. Human, thirteen or fourteen standard. Says he’s a Padawan Jedi by the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The figure stood there in silence, the reception sparking a little. 

“How interesting. I suppose I better come visit. Hold tight until I arrive.”

Cody eyed Obi-Wan, who was craning his head to try and get a better look at the figure. The crisp Courscanti accent sounded just a little like Qui-Gon’s… “Understood. Come quickly, sir.”

“I had the full intention. My, isn’t this fun…”

The figure winked out. Rex was running his hands through his blonde hair, huffing. Wooley was rubbing his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, as the other members of the 212th jockeyed for a better look. Obi-Wan was beginning to feel a little self-conscious. The man on the comm hadn’t been Qui-Gon. It sure hadn’t been Anakin. The last thing Obi-Wan needed was more mysteries on his plate!

Finally, Cody stepped aside, pointing at the door. “Back in.”

Aw, man! This was the worst morning ever. “Please don’t trap me in the detention cells, I hate those! They smell so weird, Cody!”

“Into,” Cody gritted, “the barracks.”

Obi-Wan went back inside the barracks, shuffling his socked feet the entire way. 

********

They did not put him in the detention cells. 

Which was a huge relief. The men finally seemed to believe him when he said he was a Jedi, so he was reasonably sure that they weren’t shipping him off to the Citadel anytime soon. Or worse - Coruscanti police troopers. 

Unfortunately, they still put him in an empty storage room and told him to stay there. It was actually almost embarrassing - Obi-Wan had to wait outside the room for five minutes as Gregor and Waxer swept the storage room for air vents, loose tiles, and other methods of escape. Cody stood with him the entire time, expression blank but vibrating like an anxious Geonosis wasp. 

Obi-Wan elbowed Cody a little, ignoring the man’s start of surprise. “I’m sorry about all of this,” Obi-Wan said, feeling like a bit of an idiot. It wasn’t his fault, but… “You have enough on your plate, and now you’re dealing with me again…”

But Cody just looked surprised, as if the concept of Obi-Wan’s apology was a foreign thing. Maybe it was. “It’s my job.” He paused a beat, struggling to figure something out, before saying, “Commander.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help it. He grinned at him, widely and brightly, and ignored how it made Cody’s Force signature spike in shock. “That’s what you always say!”

Before Cody could say anything else, Gregor and Waxer left the room. Gregor was rocking a bad case of bed-head, clearly roused from his habitual late wake-up on shore leave, while Waxer was still boggling at Obi-Wan. “All clean! Not that it’ll stop him, eh?”

“No, it won’t,” Cody said flatly. “Which is why you two are standing guard inside.” Waxer mumbled something about his day off. “What was that, Lieutenant?” Waxer muttered that he hadn’t said anything. “Right. You two, inside. Don’t talk to him and don’t listen to a word he says.” Cody looked down at Obi-Wan, who was blinking up innocently at him as if they both didn’t know full well he could manipulate people into thinking gravity made you float up. He held out his hand, expression grave. “Turn over your lightsaber.”

Obi-Wan’s hands reflexively flew to his lightsaber, clipped to his belt. “I wouldn’t -”

“I don’t know that,” Cody said shortly, “and I won’t risk my men. Lightsaber. Now. You’ll get it back once our company arrives.”

He was right. One Jedi, even a kid, with a lightsaber against two clones wasn’t a joke. Obi-Wan unclipped his lightsaber and placed it on Cody’s palm, ignoring the way Gregor and Waxer reeled in surprise. 

Cody just faltered, looking down at the lightsaber and back at Obi-Wan. “You shouldn’t give away your weapon so easily,” he said. “Your weapon’s your life.”

“You’ll take care of it,” Obi-Wan said.

 It wasn’t even in question - Cody’s belt had one clip for ammo left empty. He watched as Cody absentmindedly clipped the lightsaber to that empty spot on his belt, sliding in easily, as he gave further directions to Gregor and Waxer before they both shepherded him inside. 

Unfortunately, the clones were thorough. Weirdly thorough. The room was completely stripped, and the air vents were covered by a strip of metal bolted into the wall. Gregor and Waxer could be goofy, but they took their jobs and instructions as seriously as anybody else, and they jammed their buckets on their heads and tuned him out no matter how many probing questions Obi-Wan asked. He could mind trick then - clone minds were susceptible to it - but if this was really the 212th then they’d be very prepared for that. Mind tricks were Qui-Gon’s favorite tactic, since he found them a peaceful and unobtrusive way of avoiding conflict, and all of his men were well trained in protecting themselves against psychic attacks. 

Captured again. Anakin would laugh at him, after he was finished freaking out. Obi-Wan quickly grew bored, lying on the ground with his feet propped up against the wall trying to meditate. You always had to meditate through captivity, it made you look very cool and above-it-all. Somehow Obi-Wan had the feeling that the clones weren’t about to torture him for Jedi secrets, but it never hurt to be prepared. 

After what felt like forever, the door finally slid open. Obi-Wan watched it upside down. He saw Gregor and Waxer stand stiffly at attention and salute, with the special kind of primness that meant a Jedi General was walking in. He had never thought this sentence before, but hopefully the mysterious Jedi General had fetched Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon would know what to do, or at the very least he wouldn’t get too ruffled if he didn’t. 

He knew exactly what Qui-Gon would say. ‘The Force moves in mysterious ways’. ‘It seems we must pay attention to its call, no matter how strange things may seem.’ ‘This is an unexpected development indeed. Let’s tell Mace and watch him have a conniption.’ ‘Don’t tell Mace we’re doing this, he’ll have a conniption.’ He could practically hear him inside his head. 

But the Jedi who walked inside the makeshift cell wasn’t Qui-Gon, and Qui-Gon didn’t walk in after him. Only Cody, fully kitted up with his bucket under his arm as he hovered by the Jedi’s elbow. The Jedi flipped his hood down, peering at Obi-Wan with strange, bright eyes. 

He was kind of prissy looking. Nice beard, with finely coiffed copper hair, but you could just tell that he put a lot of effort into it. His robe was neat and perfect, with nothing out of place. Not very Jedi like, or so Qui-Gon would say. He wasn’t incredibly tall, or incredibly muscular, or old or young. All in all, he was clearly a remarkably boring man. 

The Jedi looked at Obi-Wan carefully. Obi-Wan made a face at him. From his position at the Jedi’s elbow, Cody wanted to die. 

Finally, as if he just finished assessing the circuits of a droid for sale, the man proclaimed, “Well! This is a most unexpected development. Wouldn’t you say so, Cody?”

Cody grimaced. “Yes, sir.”

“And who are you supposed to be?” Obi-Wan snarked, folding his arms. “A holo star?”

The man put on a fairly reproachful face. “That attitude is hardly becoming of a young Jedi. Why don’t you tell me how you got here, young one?”

Oh please. “I woke up in Cody’s bed and he shoved me in prison, that’s how I got here.” This guy was annoying, so Obi-Wan resolved to be more annoying back. “Has anybody seen my shoes? According to the Alderaan Convention, you have to allow incarcerated sentients basic dignities. Like clothing.”

Everybody looked at Cody, including Master Priss. Cody blanched. “I had nothing to do with how he got in my bed. He wasn’t there when I woke up this morning. I came back from morning training, and there was a teenager in my room. That’s all I know, sir.”

“You’re not trapped here,” Master Priss soothed, folding his hands into his robes just like Master Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan looked at him, unimpressed. “We’re just trying to solve a small riddle so we can return you to where you’re supposed to be. It would go faster if you helped us.”

“I am where I’m supposed to be.” It was one of the few truths Obi-Wan had, but somehow it felt like a lie. He looked between the people in the room - at the fascinated Gregor and Waxer, at the uncomfortable Cody, at the serene Jedi Master. He was impenetrable in the Force, his shields drawn up high. “I can give you the names of most every clone in the 212th. Definitely everyone in the 501st. It’s not my fault you don’t know who I am.”

“You know what they say about assumptions,” the Master said mildly, and Obi-Wan groaned. “You may be surprised by what we know. For instance, I think our conversation has given me a fairly good idea of who you are.”

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan drawled, “do you know an Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

“Know him?” The man said, with an affected air of surprise. “Well, of course I know him. He’s me.”

Obi-Wan toppled over.

He scrambled upwards, fighting for his lost dignity, and rose to his feet as quickly as he could. He was shorter than Master Priss, but Obi-Wan was too busy clocking everything else about the man. Obi-Wan’s hair was a darker shade than the Master’s light gold, but he knew for a fact that his hair darkened when he spent too much time in the sun. Blue eyes the same shade as Obi-Wan’s own. The sheer air of - of mediocrity -

But that wasn’t quite true. When the man stood in front of him, right side up, there was something different about him. It was immediately recognizable to Obi-Wan, who had spent his life trailing at the heels of people like this man. It wasn’t in the stance, and it wasn’t in the eyes. It wasn’t in the Force signature or their power in the Force. It wasn’t Anakin’s sheer power, or the distinctive smell of Quinlan’s psychometry. 

It was Qui-Gon’s calm and comfort. It was the way that Mace Windu stood absolutely still, how he could imitate a statue. The humble way Plo Koon held himself, always ready to extend a hand to those below him. 

It was the look of a Master Jedi. One of the Master Jedis. 

But it sure as kriff wasn’t him. 

“Bantha crap,” Obi-Wan said instantly, making Waxer choke. “This ain’t a very funny joke, Master.”

But the Jedi just folded his hands in his robe again, one eyebrow raised. Exactly - exactly - like Master Qui-Gon. “I rarely joke, young padawan. Would my lightsaber convince you?” With one elbow, he brushed his cloak aside - revealing Obi-Wan’s own damn lightsaber hanging at his hip! Obi-Wan’s eyes jerked to Cody, who still had Obi-Wan’s own lightsaber attached to his belt. What the - “Tell me, what year do you think it is? No wrong answers.”

Obi-Wan told him the year, which made the Master hum and the clones look at each other in confusion. “So it’s the right year,” Obi-Wan guessed, judging by their reactions. “So you can’t be me, see? As if I would be caught dead with that stupid accent.”

The Master just looked slightly offended. Or as if he was acting offended. “I rather like my accent. It lends an air of dignity.” Cody snorted quietly. “Yes, thank you for your input, Commander.”

“How am I supposed to believe you when all you do is lie?” Obi-Wan asked crossly, propping his hands on his hips. He ignored the Master’s affected innocent look. “You have a funny look in your eyes, Master. You could be a Sith for all I know. You could have infiltrated my men, stole my life. Too subtle for Dooku, but not for the Sith Master, right?”

Something sharp burst from the Master’s Force presence before he quickly swallowed it. “Subtle enough for Ventress, I believe.”

Obi-Wan just snorted. This guy really wasn’t him if he didn’t even know that. “Ventress never tortured kids even when she was evil. Nowadays she’d just swipe at me with a lightsaber until I went away. She’s nice once ya get to know her.”

“Good to know,” the Master said softly, but he just straightened. This time, he didn’t try to put on a harmless look. He just looked at Obi-Wan steadily, intently, piercingly. “The Force does not lie, Padawan. Listen with a heart unclouded by fear. What do you see?”

“I’m not scared!” Obi-Wan said, maybe unconvincingly. He screwed his eyes shut and tried calling for the Force, but it just slipped between his fingers like so much smoke. “I just - you’re just trying to get my guard down, aren’t you?”

For some reason, for just a second, the Master looked a little heartbroken. But he wiped the expression away so quickly that Obi-Wan thought he must have imagined it. “I have more than twenty years experience on you, so I’m afraid your guard being up or down has little impact on whether or not I would emerge the victor in that encounter.”

Cody adopted Expression #3, ‘the General is so stupid and I want him to die in a tragic accident’. “General,” he hissed, leaning into the Master’s ear, “that’s just going to scare him more.”

“Really? Anakin finds risk assessments comforting.”

“General Skywalker doesn’t know what risk is, sir.”

Maybe that was what did it - a sentence that Obi-Wan could have heard at any time, in any place. Maybe it was just that Cody was unchanged, one certainty amidst a terrifying and inscrutable future. Or maybe Obi-Wan really was scared, and he just instinctively searched out a safe harbor. Steady, consistent stone.

Obi-Wan ran forward a little, ignoring how the two men started, and clasped Cody’s hand in his. He used both of his hands to clutch onto Cody, ignoring the way Cody tensed and half-drew away, and screwed his eyes shut tightly.

Reach out with the Force. Cody was there, steady beside him. But there was another signature, shields slowly lowering, allowing Obi-Wan to catch a glimpse of its subdued brilliance. 

It was warm and comforting. It was cold and brittle. But it was mostly nothing at all. You couldn’t exactly feel your own mark in the Force. It was like seeing the back of your own eyes, or always knowing what people thought of you. 

It was no different than his, at heart. Obi-Wan felt a great deal of other things batten down the hatches of his heart - sadness, tiredness, devotion, duty - that were foreign to him, but they came from that same root. Just him.

And something very different. 

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. The Master was looking at him solemnly, with shallow blue eyes that Obi-Wan finally recognized as his. Whatever Obi-Wan had seen him, he had seen in Obi-Wan. Whatever that thing could possibly be. Obi-Wan didn’t know. 

Despite himself, Obi-Wan clutched tighter to Cody, pressing up close against his side. He felt disoriented, alone in a strange and familiar space with a familiar and impossibly strange man. Distantly, Obi-Wan felt Cody wrap an arm around his shoulder, and he buried his face into Cody’s side. It smelled, as always, of armor cleaner and blaster charge and vulcanized rubber.

The words ‘I want to go home’ rose in this throat and died on his tongue. He was home. He could be a million lightyears away and still be home, so long as Master Anakin was blazing a trail in front of him and Rex was bringing up the rear. So long as Cody’s arm was around his shoulder - an unusually affectionate gesture for the rigid man. 

Rex always said that home was people. The building wasn’t what made the barracks and the Jedi Temple home - it was the people. Maybe it made sense that Obi-Wan felt so far from home: his family was around him, but they couldn’t be further away. 

There was a powerful spike of discomfort in the Force before it was quickly shuttled behind durasteel shields, so hot and fleeting Obi-Wan could have imagined it. Most masters would have released that feeling into the Force instead of hiding it away. 

“If everybody’s in agreement regarding the situation,” Master Kenobi said, “then I believe it’s time to figure this out. I hope the Grandmaster and his regiment are on-planet. With any luck he has some time to settle this out.”

“Yes,” Cody said, from above Obi-Wan, “General Yoda is quite famous for his ability to answer questions.”

“Master Yoda is renowned among the Jedi for his wisdom,” Master Kenobi chided gently. “Even if he can’t help, I’m sure there are - books and things. In the Archives. Yes, perhaps we will attend to the Archives first. We must make haste to the Jedi Temple and figure out this business before we are all deployed again.” 

“The Temple?” Obi-Wan cried. He separated from Cody, already missing the rare contact, but the man’s arm stayed around his shoulder. “You know the dumb Archives aren’t going to be any help.” And Obi-Wan really didn’t feel like starring in The Freak Show, Population One.

“The dumb Jedi Archives are the repository of thousands of years of accumulated Jedi knowledge and wisdom regarding the Force,” Master Kenobi said, somewhat incredulously. “There’s no better place in the galaxy to look.”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms, finally shrugging off Cody. He tried not to miss the warmth. “Yeah, Jedi knowledge and wisdom. But this reeks of something far stranger, Master. The Force can give insight into the past and future, but I’ve never known it to spin stories about strange lives and jumbled times. Something ‘unprecedented in the Force’ happens to us, like, once a month. The Jedi Archives didn’t have any records on Malachor, did it?”

Master Kenobi froze, just a little. Obi-Wan didn’t blame him. Malachor had been the weirdest, most uncomfortable thing to happen to him until today. And he was counting the drinking contest with Hondo. “Yes, there are far more things between the stars than dreamt of by the Jedi.” But Master Kenobi just shook himself, focusing on Obi-Wan again. “You’d do well to trust in the Jedi, young one.”

“I thought it was trust in the Force.”

“Jedi trust in the Force,” Master Kenobi said, infuriatingly evasive. “Trust in the Jedi’s trust in the Force.” This guy was Obi-Wan’s worst nightmare. He sounded just like Master Qui-Gon. “Regardless, we’re already attracting quite a crowd in the barracks. Have a little trust in the Jedi to untangle this mystery.” He looked at Cody, ignoring Obi-Wan rolling his eyes again. There was an entire branch of Jedi philosophy where the point was to never answer a single question, ever. Quinlan was convinced old masters adopted it just to be annoying. “I believe I ought to call my padawan for some help. He’s rather good with - er, children.”

Why was this getting worse every second? Obi-Wan didn’t want to know who this guy’s padawan was! He was probably being groomed into max insufferableness. 

But Cody shifted, just a little. “Maybe letting him bunk in the barracks would be a good idea, General. I’m not certain how much attention we should draw to this. And my men can keep an eye on him here.” He glanced down at Obi-Wan, who shot him his most winning smile. “He’s rather slippery.”

“I saw him jump off Klaxon’s head!” Waxer cried out eagerly. “And do a double somersault! It was awesome!”

“That’s our General,” Gregor said, elbowing him. They both had their buckets on, but Obi-Wan could feel the smirk. “I bet he backflipped out of the crib!”

“You really think it was awesome?” Obi-Wan asked, pleased. He decided to ignore the ‘our general’ part. “I can jump three stories, you know. At least!”

“Jedi don’t brag, Padawan,” Master Kenobi said, almost reflexively. He was stroking his beard, like he wanted to show the entire room how he was being as thoughtful as possible. “You’re proficient in Soresu, then?”

“Yeah, it’s my primary form,” Obi-Wan said, distracted by the beard. It was actually pretty nice… “Master thought it would be a good idea. He made me learn like five others, but Soresu’s the best. Master really wanted me to get jar’kai down, but it’s really hard.”

“It’s a form for a more active mind, certainly.” Master Kenobi fell silent for a second, stroking his beard, before speaking again. “Qui-Gon Jinn was always certain in his focus.”

“Yeah, why aren’t we just calling Master Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan folded his arms again. He couldn’t believe that Cody had called Master Obi-Wan Kenobi instead of his actual General Qui-Gon. This was really Qui-Gon’s hangar. “He’d figure this out in no time. This Force stuff is his specialty. I know he’d love to figure out a Force riddle instead of how to blast up ships or pretend to discipline me or something for once.”

Something undefinable spiked in Cody, but Master Kenobi just offered Obi-Wan a placid and cheerful smile. “Master Qui-Gon is rather unavailable at this time. You’ll have to settle for my help, I’m afraid.”

“No offence,” Obi-Wan said, “but I’d rather get help from anyone else.”

“You have to be hungry,” Cody said to Obi-Wan. “Let’s break and get some food. The General will make his calls, and you can apologize to Klaxon for the footprint you left on his head.”

“Aw, Cody…”

“No arguments,” Cody said firmly. Master Kenobi looked a little offended, and very creeped out. “I’ll escort you to the mess. And if you try to make a break for it one more time -”

“I’m on dish duty for a week,” Obi-Wan repeated rotely. “I know, jeez.”

“Can you do that?” Master Kenobi asked, alarmed. “Cody, you can’t just put me on dish duty, can you?”

“Apparently I can,” Cody told him. There was a distinct air of glee in his Force imprint. “And Gregor is fetching you breakfast while you make your calls, General. I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Commander, I don’t believe -”

“Eat, or you’re on dish duty.”

“Commander!”

 At least Obi-Wan was released from his boring prison. Unfortunately, Cody kept rigidly to Obi-Wan’s side, after assigning Gregor and Waxer to attend to General Kenobi. Obi-Wan was a little resentful that his older self was just as irresponsible as himself. He could tell that this was not the first or the last time Cody had to make General Kenobi eat. 

It was impossible to miss the stress that tightened on his shoulders, or his subtle air of bewilderment. Obi-Wan was really good at bringing that out in Cody. Rex said it was his superpower. 

Where was Rex? Obi-Wan extended his Force signature, turning towards the 501st mess before Cody grabbed his collar and directed him back towards the 212th.

“You keep me from my own men,” Obi-Wan said, wounded. “Don’t trap me with that stuffed shirt’s platoon. Come on, I want to give Kix a heart attack. Or make Echo short-circuit. It’ll be really funny!”

“The 212th are your men,” Cody said shortly. “Rex left for the Temple a while ago to wrangle his own Jedi. And the last thing I need is the 501st excited about something.” He looked away and grumbled under his breath. “Uncontrollable maniacs, all of them.”

“My dear Cody, you mistake me,” Obi-Wan teased. “I am a calming influence. My youthful and optimistic presence puts everybody on their best behavior. My Jedi air of serenity and peace helps me -”

“Tell complete lies?” Cody asked. One eyebrow was twitching in slight amusement. “You’re not as subtle as the General.”

“Why tell subtle lies to somebody who expects a lie from me?” Obi-Wan said archly. “Giving people what they expect distracts them from the truth.”

“I don’t know you,” Cody pointed out. “What would I expect from you?”

But Obi-Wan just shook his head. Confidence was easy to find when you were a Jedi - when the energy of the universe whispered truths in your ear. “You know me,” Obi-Wan said simply. “You knew me when you first saw me. There’s no hiding that.”

And Cody had nothing to say to that - nothing, at least, he would say out loud. 

*********

The mess was actively entertaining - so entertaining that Cody spent the entire time staring eagerly at his comm waiting for the call to come in from Rex that General Kenobi was ready to go. 

Obi-Wan found himself surrounded by adoring fans to a degree he had never experienced. It would have been overwhelming if it wasn’t awesome. When he first met all of the clones they had been very stiff and awkward around him, and by the time they became friends he wasn’t much of a novelty anymore. But apparently the clones did like General Kenobi, and his ‘younger self’ was a novelty, which meant that practically the entire battalion was trying to get a look. 

“Why yes,” Obi-Wan said, “I am the commander of the 501st - but I step in for the 212th quite a bit. Master Qui-Gon’s not much of a soldier, so I help him out.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call myself talented - but I can beat any padawan in the Temple, if that’s what you mean.”

“My first battle was the battle of Christophsis! Anyone hear of that one - yes, we have a few veterans in the crowd! I was a fresh padawan, but I like to think I helped save the day -”

“So there’s no black market ring? How do you get your smokes? That’s inefficient. Listen, I have a great network, if you pass me a comm I can tell you how to set it up -”

Obi-Wan was just telling everybody about how the 501st and the 212th were the best, most heroic battalions in the GAR when Cody’s comm beeped. Almost instantly, he stood up and pulled Obi-Wan down from off the table where he was standing and addressing the crowd like Chancellor Palpatine. 

“Show’s over!” Cody called. “Back to work, men!”

“But it’s shore leave!” Boil called. “Come on, Commander, he was telling us about -”

“Leave unless you want me to find you work,” Cody barked, which was always effective at making clones disperse. At the slightest threat from Cody they could become ghosts on the wind. So could Obi-Wan, but he was currently trapped in the cold grip of Cody yet again. 

“Come on, don’t give me that look,” Obi-Wan complained, wriggling free of his grip as they escaped the mess hall. “I was improving morale! You always gotta improve morale. That’s why you let me smuggle all those magazines in.” Cody choked. “Ship magazines, Cody.”

“I have it on reliable authority that Jedi don’t brag.”

“Jedi seek to spread happiness and contentment among communities,” Obi-Wan parroted instantly. “Which translates to morale. You can’t argue that one.”

“Arguing with you is a waste of time.” Cody rolled his eyes, marching quickly down the hallway and forcing Obi-Wan to jog to keep up with him. “General Kenobi is a master of rhetoric. You just - bludgeon people with words.”

“Bludgeoning people with words is vastly preferable to bludgeoning them with my lightsaber,” Obi-Wan said primly. “That’s pacifism.”

Cody looked down, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re a pacifist?”

The question was so stupid that Obi-Wan broke out into laughter. He didn’t laugh very often, or ever very loudly, but the image of a pacifist Obi-Wan was just too funny. “Is anybody?”

And Cody had nothing to say to that. 

In the greatest relief of Obi-Wan’s life, he saw Rex standing at the front door of the barrack. He was kitted up, with his bucket under his arm, talking seriously with General Kenobi. Who was stroking his beard again. Yes, yes, you’re very impressive for thinking. That guy got on Obi-Wan’s nerves. He wasn’t even sure why. 

If Obi-Wan ever met his past self, he wouldn’t try so hard to sound like a fancy adult. Young one this, Padawan that. Good Jedi don’t do this, a Jedi doesn’t do that. Adult Masters were always condescending, but it was just so fake coming from General Kenobi. As if he knew that important adults were always condescending, so he bluffed his bad hand. If there was one thing Obi-Wan always had, it was a bad hand. 

“Rex!” Obi-Wan cried, waving. “You sold me out, fucker!”

Rex jumped almost a foot in the air as Cody kneaded his brow. General Kenobi looked like he wanted to die a little. Obi-Wan ignored them all, running up as Cody sedately followed after him. 

“Ah, Ge - Commander,” Rex said weakly. “It really is you.”

“Who else would I be, Jar Jar Binks?” Obi-Wan lightly punched Rex on the arm, startling him into a smile. “I’m telling the guys you snitched.”

Rex smiled broader, making Obi-Wan smile back. “Then you’d be the snitch, right?”

“Only if it was to Cody.” Obi-Wan glanced backwards at Cody. “And he says that General Kenobi’s of the 212th, not the 501st. So what kind of jerk are you stuck with? It’s not General Jack-Off’s padawan, is it?”

Rex looked like Life Day had come early. General Kenobi had buried his face in his hands. “As a matter of fact, I am.  He’s waiting right outside, if you want to meet him.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with this,” Obi-Wan said seriously, reaching up and clasping Rex on the shoulder. “I’d rescue you if I could.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But I wouldn’t. ‘Cuz you sold me out, asshole.”

“What language did you teach him?” Cody accused Rex, who balked. “Because he sure as spit didn’t learn that kind of talk from me, Rex.”

“I didn’t do anything -”

“Then why does your commander know how to curse like a Corellian spacer?”

“I don’t control her!”

Uh oh. Cody was working himself up into a patented Cody v. Rex lecture. Rex argued back, and they could go on for an hour. Obi-Wan and General Kenobi glanced at each other, thinking the same thing for the first time since they met, and they both quietly made their way to the front door. 

It would be fine. Obi-Wan didn’t know how to solve this whatsoever, but it was fine. Maybe Master Yoda would help - improbable, but a lot of improbable things had been happening today. All he had to do was deal with whatever poor sucker was stuck with General Kenobi as a padawan, cope with the inevitable moralizing of the Jedi Temple, and then bounce so he could actually figure something out -

But when Obi-Wan stood outside the barracks, squinting into the dim Coruscant sunlight, he didn’t find General Kenobi’s padawan at all. All he saw was Master Anakin, leaning on a parked speeder. A teenage Togruta a little older than him was sitting on the front hood of the speeder, goggles pushed up to her forehead and scanning the new scene with abject interest, but all Obi-Wan could focus on was his completely familiar master.

He was the same age, thank goodness. He was wearing the same clothing, his hair was unbrushed in the exact same way, and every inch of him screamed power and conviction just the same as always. Obi-Wan had half-thought that he’d see a Master Anakin twenty years older, if he did at all, but he was instead met with the sweet relief of a familiar sun in the Force.

“Master!” Obi-Wan cried. 

Master Anakin almost fell over. 

Obi-Wan didn’t pay any attention to it. He ran forward, ditching all sense of dignity or coolness, and instead almost tackled his master in a tight hug. It was always Anakin who hugged first, who spread out his arms or picked him up with a bright laugh, but sometimes even Obi-Wan needed that sure confidence. No matter how hard Obi-Wan tried to imitate it, he just couldn’t get it. 

Slowly, then with confidence, Master hugged him back. It felt the same, and his robes smelled faintly of engine oil and grease. Less so than usual. Maybe he had remembered to wash his clothing for once. But Obi-Wan saw a scar on his flesh arm, one that was completely unfamiliar to him, and he knew that the strangeness extended far beyond the barracks and the strange General Kenobi - no matter what he wanted to believe. 

Obi-Wan quickly separated from him, finding himself talking a mile a minute. “Boy, am I glad to see you! Do you know what’s going on? Is this your fault somehow? It’s okay if it is, just be honest. Nobody recognizes me, and Mr. Holostar over there is telling me that he’s me, and I still can’t find my shoes. Can you fix this, Master?”

Master stared at him for a second. 

His face split into the widest grin Obi-Wan had ever seen from him. That was never a good sign. Obi-Wan tok a cautionary step back.

Master broke into giant peals of laughter. It was almost hysterical, wheezing and breathless as he promptly lost his shit. 

“Master!” Obi-Wan cried. “This isn’t the time - Master, this isn’t funny!”

“Oh, kriff!” Master wheezed. “Oh - oh man!”

The Togruta behind him was also doubled over, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. 

General Kenobi appeared at Obi-Wan’s elbow, making him jump. He was still kneading his forehead, expression creased in utmost exhaustion. “Anakin, please be mature about this.”

“Mature!” Master cackled. “Mature!”

Something terrible began to occur to Obi-Wan. He looked at Anakin, then back at the door. Cody and Rex had emerged, Rex somewhat sheepishly. Cody looked very pained. Rex, however, was hiding a laugh.

“It’s you,” Obi-Wan said slowly, with mounting horror. He turned back to Master, who was rapidly losing breath from lack of oxygen. “You’re the padawan? Master, how could you!”

“This is the best day of my life,” Master said, almost unintelligibly. 

Fantastic. This was just like that one time with the pentapus. Obi-Wan resorted to immature tactics and kicked at Master’s shins, making him duck out of the way. “Will you focus for once? I’m glad you’re having fun, Master, but we have a real situation here!”

“Yeah, Master,” the strangely familiar Togrutan said, grinning widely with sharp canines, “we have a situation here!”

“Don’t mock me,” Obi-Wan snapped. “Who are you supposed to be, anyway?”

 “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The Togrutan giggled one more time before hopping off the speeder hood, bowing to Obi-Wan. He couldn’t help but notice that it was the bow of a padawan to a master. “Padawan Ahsoka Tano. I might have stolen your master a little. Really - hah! - sorry about that, Padawan.”

Oh no. 

Obi-wan’s stomach dropped. He looked at Anakin, who had finally subsisted laughing into simple sheer glee. General Kenobi still looked as if he wanted to die. And Ahsoka Tano - Ahsoka Tano! - was smiling at him with a friendly, predatory air. 

Ahsoka Tano!

“Master Tano!” Obi-Wan said, voice creaking ominously. He hastily bowed, lower than she had. “I apologize for snapping, I just didn’t recognize you. You’re supposed to be - you’re normally my master’s master, not a teenager who looks - very different. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!”

Horribly, that just made Master laugh even harder. He was propping himself on the speeder just to stay upright, almost coughing with hysteria. General Kenobi buried his face in his hands. 

“Master Tano, huh?” Master Tano mused, crossing her arms. “Sounds about right to me. It’s an honor to meet you, Obi-Wan. I like the nerf-tail.”

Obi-Wan fought a flush, touching it self-consciously. “Really? It looks good, right?”

“It looks great. Human hair’s so funny. Can I touch it?”

“Y - yeah, sure!”

Master Ahsoka Tano touched his nerf tail, faintly impressed. Obi-Wan fought the flush even harder. Teenage Master Tano was very - nope! Not going there! 

“You never want to touch my hair,” General Kenobi said, somewhat wounded. 

“That’s because you start crying if anybody messes it up,” Master said gleefully. “The nerf tail’s a great look, Master, what happened to it?”

“I remember your haircut as a teenager, Padawan,” General Kenobi said frostily. Master Tano perked up. “And I remember that tube top, Ahsoka. None of you test me today.”

“So how old are you, Obi-Wan?” Master Tano asked pleasantly. “I’m bad with human ages, but...twelve standard?”

Ouch. Obi-Wan fought a wince. “Fourteen. I was apprenticed to my master the day I turned thirteen. But I’m almost fifteen!”

“Fourteen!” Master cried. “But you’re tiny!”

Obi-Wan looked backwards and held out a hand. “Cody, please return my lightsaber.”

Cody visibly hesitated. General Kenobi slowly shook his head. “I’m...afraid I can’t do that, sir.”

“That was a long pause, Cody!” Master complained. 

“I’m sixteen,” Master Tano said eagerly, “but I think we’ve been in the war around the same amount of time. Would you be down for a spar with me? I’m your grandmaster, right? No offence, but I’ve always wanted to know how I would measure up against my grandmaster when he was my age.”

Wow. Master Tano, asking him for a spar! 

Oh no. Master Tano, asking him for a spar!

Obi-Wan fought a sputter, desperately searching for that Jedi calm. “Oh, really, it’s no contest. You’re the best duellist the Order’s ever seen, Master Tano. You were the first Sithkiller in a thousand years! It’s really no question -”

“Sithkiller?” General Kenobi breathed. 

“She’s the best duellist in the order?” Anakin demanded. “Hey, what about your old master, Obi-Wan?”

“You’re such a flatterer!” Master Tano laughed delicately. “Please, call me Ahsoka!”

“Yes, Ma - Ahsoka!”

“Obi-Wan! She’s the best duellist? I could kill a Sith if I wanted, you know!”

“But you haven’t,” Ahsoka said archly, crossing her arms. “And why the disbelief, Master?”

“The - look, you’re very talented, Ahsoka, but -” Master visibly floundered, caught in a rhetoric trap. “Come on. I get Obi-Wan’s out of the running -”

“Master!”

“ - but Mace Windu’s still here. And, you know, a certain - I’m very disappointed you have so little faith in your master’s capability here, padawan.”

Both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka crossed their arms simultaneously. Master faltered. 

“Oh, no,” Ahsoka said, “please go on. Tell me more about how my padawan Anakin Skywalker’s such a better duelist than my adult self.”

“Can we go back to the out of the running comment?” Obi-Wan said. “I’d like to hear an explanation for that one.”

Master looked pleadingly at General Kenobi. “Hey, Master, help me out here -”

But General Kenobi just stroked his beard. “I’m also interested in the ‘out of the running’ comment.”

That was when Rex broke out into audible laughter, and when Obi-Wan glanced back he saw that even Cody was smiling. Then Ahsoka broke out into laughter, and General Kenobi hid a smile behind his hand, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh too. 

He had moments like this with Master Anakin and Master Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan nagged Master Anakin enough, and Master Qui-Gon always dropped unhelpful aphorisms, and when Master Qui-Gon dragged them all along in a madcap scheme Master Anakin and Obi-Wan were always the first behind him.

 They had just been rarer lately. Even as the war pushed them all closer together, sometimes Obi-Wan felt as if they were drifting apart. Meeting Master Tano and discovering what she had been doing for the last eight years should have been unifying, bringing a fractured lineage back together, but instead it just seemed to stir up something old and buried and hurt in Master Anakin. He’d been a little more volatile lately. He’s been quick to laugh, exuberant and ready to have fun, and Obi-Wan loved being around him at those times. But he was quicker to get angry too. Quicker to yell, or even punch or kick things. Someone usually quickly gets Obi-Wan out of the room whenever that happens, but lately…

Some weird part of Obi-Wan wanted to ask Ahsoka if her master punched and kicked things too. If he sometimes left her to fend for herself on the field, or if he sometimes accidentally destroyed her things. Or if he never had - because Ahsoka was a perfect master and a perfect padawan, and she could always do what Obi-Wan couldn’t. 

Master Anakin was always really sorry when he accidentally broke one of Obi-Wan’s datapads. He had told Obi-Wan not to tell Master Qui-Gon about it. Which, obviously - Obi-Wan wasn’t a snitch! 

But Cody had really wanted to tell Master Qui-Gon, ignoring Obi-Wan’s protests, and Master Anakin had to pull him aside specifically and talk to him about it. Cody ended up not telling Master Qui-Gon, but he hadn’t looked very happy. 

Maybe it was that thought, or that memory of Cody’s subtly unhappy face, that made Obi-Wan ask. “So if Master and Ahsoka are General and Commander of the 501st, and Kenobi’s the General of the 212th, what does Master Qui-Gon do? He’s not, like, a toddler, is he?” General Kenobi hadn’t made it sound like he was a baby, but the man was good at bending the truth. Something awful occurred to Obi-Wan. “Is Count Dooku a baby? I can’t handle an evil baby right now.”

The laughter cut off very abruptly.

The clones and Ahsoka looked at each other, and Master Anakin and General Kenobi were fixedly not looking at each other. General Kenobi just made eye contact with Obi-Wan again, the picture of trustworthiness. 

“No, Master Qui-Gon is my master. Not Anakin’s. As I said, he’s out of contact right now, but rest assured he has little to do with the war.”

Cody and Rex glanced at each other. Cody & Rex expression #5 - ‘are you gonna tell him?’. 

A hot spike of anger flared in Obi-Wan’s gut. General Kenobi’s eyes widened a little, but nobody else seemed to notice. He crossed his arms instead. “If he’s so happy in retirement, then why can’t I see him at the Temple?”

“It would not do to distract ourselves right now,” General Kenobi said, shaking his hands into his sleeves. Master turned his face away. “Let’s hurry back to the Temple. We can answer all of your questions there.”

“Tell the truth,” Obi-Wan said evenly. 

“I’m not telling any lies,” General Kenobi said, just as even.

“A lie is in the intention, not the words.”

Everybody looked at Obi-Wan, then General Kenobi, then back at Obi-Wan, as if they were watching a volley match. 

“You’re describing deceit, which has a wide spectrum of morality,” General Kenobi said. We can debate ethics in the speeder, if you like.”

“And you’re misdirecting.”

“Which one might call tact, rather than deceit.”

“And one might call tact an excuse to tell lies rather than the inconvenient truth.”

“What might that inconvenient truth be, padawan?” General Kenobi asked. 

Obi-Wan’s fists clenched. He couldn’t help it. “Just tell me if he’s dead or not.”

But General Kenobi didn’t miss a beat. “Qui-Gon Jinn passed into the Force a long time ago, I’m afraid.”

That should have relieved Obi-Wan. He knew it, from the minute that silence fell when he asked his question. He just wanted to hear that jerk General Kenobi admit it. Say the word, make it real. But that wasn’t the word. That was hardly an admission of truth at all.

“I didn’t ask you if he passed into the Force or not,” Obi-Wan said, fighting the snarl raising in his words. Don’t take that tone with me, padawan… “I asked you if he died.”

“Forgive me,” General Kenobi said, recognizably sarcastic and strangely bitter, “I assumed you understood Jedi euphemisms.” 

“I don’t hide behind Jedi platitudes,” Obi-Wan cried. He swept out a hand, fighting the strange new fury building in his chest. Or maybe a very old, very familiar fury. “It’s a disgrace to the dead to hide their sacrifice behind kind terms that protect only ourselves. What, the venerable master with a grandpadawan still can’t face it?”

“Maybe I was trying to be kind to you.” General Kenobi’s face was blank, but there was something taut around his eyes. Obi-Wan couldn’t read it. His own facial expressions weren’t that subtle. “But I see you did not consider my good intentions above your own grudge against me.”

Ahsoka hissed. Obi-Wan ignored her. “I’ve served for almost two years. I know people die. I learned that when I was thirteen. If lies and platitudes are your definition of kindness, then you can keep it.”

“And what a great soldier you are,” General Kenobi mocked, “that you allowed so many to die.”

Silence hit them all like a brick. 

Everybody was openly gaping at General Kenobi, who only seemed to realize what he said after he said it. His pale face whitened, a deep horror flashing in his eyes, before he abruptly turned on his heel and opened the door to the speeder. 

“It’s time to get going,” General Kenobi said, and everybody scrambled to obey. 

For some reason, that was what struck Obi-Wan. That everybody scrambled to do exactly as General Kenobi said. That they turned to him for direction, that when something went wrong he was the first they called. Always calm, always thoughtful and in control. 

A mean comment like that wasn’t out of place on Obi-Wan. He wasn’t always good at biting his tongue, and sometimes stuff like that was the only way to make people look at you. When everybody around you was always busy, sometimes you had to do dumb stuff just to make people look at you. Even if it was just to scold or stare at you with disappointment. 

But everybody always looked at General Kenobi, and it was clear that he never said things like that. Maybe that was why they respected him, trusted him. He was an adult. If Obi-Wan ever wanted people to treat him like an adult, would he have to wear that stupid accent and talk so politely and act so in-control all the time? 

Could you only be a venerable master, a strong Jedi, if every word that came out of your mouth was a lie? 

So far, General Kenobi had only told Obi-Wan one truth. He could only read one thing about the man, one absolute fact that could be hidden from everybody but Obi-Wan. 

General Kenobi really, really, really hated Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

*********

Thankfully, Anakin and Ahsoka liked talking too much to allow an awkward silence to fester in the speeder. 

Ahsoka wanted a lot more detail regarding her legendary duelist status, which Obi-Wan was more than happy to provide. He had defaulted to the most amazing story he knew about her - how she met Master Anakin and helped save Naboo - but once Obi-Wan got to the part where Ahsoka Tano and Padme Amidala landed on Tatooine with a broken ship Master Anakin jumped in and started rambling about his piloting. Ahsoka didn’t miss it, but she didn’t press. Obi-Wan was slightly put out that he hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to tell her about how she chopped Maul into little tiny pieces. But Master really did hate anybody bringing up his childhood. 

Not that anybody did. Not that anybody really knew. Obi-Wan had heard every part of that story a million times except for the part where he learned what Anakin had been doing on Tatooine, which had only come out when Master had been very drunk. He had said a lot of really disturbing stuff that night. Cody had ended up letting Obi-Wan sleep in his room. 

Maybe it was for the best that Ahsoka didn’t even seem to know. Some things you just didn’t want to know about the people you loved. They just made you feel too bad and awful inside. You were always so useless in that moment. The bad thing had happened so long ago that you couldn’t change it, but it was even worse how you couldn’t change the awful feeling inside the other person now.

 It made Obi-Wan wonder what other person Master Anakin would be if all that stuff when he was a kid hadn’t happened to him. Maybe he would hug him less often, or he wouldn’t be so mad all the time. It looked like he would never know - it had happened here too. 

The man sitting in the passenger seat of the speeder, right in front of Obi-Wan as the wind ran tracks through his perfectly coiffed hair, hadn’t spoken since they left the barracks. In a strange moment of objectivity, Obi-Wan realized that he was sitting behind an Obi-Wan Kenobi who had only fought the Clone Wars as an adult, and never as a teenager. 

Wow. Glad Obi-Wan had dodged that bullet. He’d much rather be doing this as a kid than as an adult. You wasted less time. 

They definitely weren’t speaking to each other, especially considering the one last fight they had before they left. Cody and Rex had wanted to go with them to the Temple - whether to help give the report, try and keep things from exploding, or babysit them, Obi-Wan didn’t know - but General Kenobi had shut them down. He and Cody even walked away and did that not talking/not arguing thing that Cody and Master Qui-Gon did. Eventually Cody straightened and saluted, General Kenobi clapped him on the shoulder and said something in his ear, and then they were leaving without Cody and Rex. 

It made Obi-Wan a little anxious, although he couldn’t identify why. There was probably nowhere safer in Coruscant than this speeder, especially for Obi-Wan. Nowhere safer than where they were doing. It was stupid how rarely Obi-Wan felt safe. He was being really stupid. 

As Coruscant whipped around them in flashes of light and sound and color, exactly the same as Obi-Wan knew yet uncomfortably different, he couldn’t get the image of General Kenobi clapping Cody on the shoulder out of his mind. Just like a Jedi. Confident, reassuring, and authoritative. He listened to everything his men said with careful consideration, and then decisively made his choice. His men looked up to him, his padawan was independent but always obedient, and he carried himself with an air of dignity and respect.

Obi-Wan had never gotten that respect from Cody. It was ridiculous, but Obi-Wan couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. He would never get that respect. But was that the kind of respect he wanted? Did he want Cody to look at him how he looked at General Kenobi?

He should. General Kenobi should be exactly who Obi-Wan wanted to be when he grew up, and that calm and decisive respect should be what he strove to attain with his men and Cody. But he didn’t. He couldn’t figure out why. 

Cody had tossed his lightsaber back to Obi-Wan before he left, expression serious. Obi-Wan caught it easily out of midair, letting it flip back into his hand. 

“Stay out of trouble, sir,” Cody said, instead of anything else. “And find some shoes.”

By the time the trip ended, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan had been exchanging saber tips for the last ten minutes and were best friends, Anakin had been ganged up on at least three times, and General Kenobi hadn’t said a word. Obi-Wan had to fight the urge to kick the back of his seat. 

It was galling having to wait for the little machine to print out his visitor’s badge, especially when he knew all four of the clones supervising visitor’s entry and was fully aware that they ranked each person who came through based on insufferability. Obi-Wan felt a strange pressure to score low on the insufferability front, yet knew he was incapable. 

Ahsoka looped her arm through his, elbowing him in the side. Obi-Wan felt like his face was on fire. “So you said you know both of the battalions? My memory isn’t nearly that good. I hang out with Rex and Torrent, mostly. I think I intimidate the other guys.”

Wonder why. “Do you intimidate a lot of people?”

“Everybody in my Initiate class,” Ahsoka said lightly. “Bite one too many kids one too many times…”

“They were just jealous,” Obi-Wan affirmed, as they swerved into the main hall of the Temple. “Everybody always hates the Initiate at the top of saber class.”

“I can attest to that,” Master groused. 

“Your bragging didn’t help your case much, Padawan,” General Kenobi said mildly. He tilted his head at the passing Jedi, who all bowed in return. “Now, everybody please act normally. We don’t need a spectacle.” He eyed Obi-Wan, who scowled back. “Dare I ask why you’re dressed like a hoodlum teenager?”

“Dare I ask why you stapled that dead womprat to your face?” Obi-Wan asked flatly. “Get off my back.”

Anakin and Ahsoka started laughing again. General Kenobi started to massage the bridge of his nose before abruptly stopping so he could nod his head at a group of padawans bowing to him. “Are you going to be difficult the rest of your stay?”

They were both aware of how difficult Obi-Wan could be when he wanted to. “After two years of learning from my Master, I can out-difficult a Hutt.”

“I already apologized for my harsh words,” General Kenobi said, “so it’s for the best if we both move forward.”

“That’s a blatant lie. You did not apologize. You are literally just straight-up lying now -”

But then three elderly masters had to stop General Kenobi to extend well-wishes and congratulate him on his latest successful campaign, marvelling at Knight Skywalker’s growth. General Kenobi smiled bashfully, Knight Skywalker preened humbly, and Ahsoka subtly turned Obi-Wan’s face away so they could whisper at each other. 

“Being at the Temple can be so annoying sometimes,” Ahsoka whispered. “It’s boring without Obi-Wan and Anakin, and with them it’s like they’re heroes and I’m invisible.”

“Exactly!” Obi-Wan hissed. “Your friends are never home, and there’s nobody to hang out with. And there’s nobody interesting around to spar with you.”

“Of course you have friends,” Ahsoka said, almost sour. “Apparently I’m intimidating. The last friend I had…”

She trailed off, something about her darkening in sadness, and Obi-Wan carefully bumped his shoulder against hers. “They know you’re different,” Obi-Wan said, “and they’re scared. The older Jedi hate acknowledging that us padawans are different than they are.”

“Right, that’s exactly it!” Ahsoka huffed, crossing her arms. “You know, Master Ka’al stopped me for ten minutes to talk about how in his day, they redirected the Initiates not meant for life as a Jedi Knight to more ‘constructive’ roles. And he totally knew I would have flunked out if it wasn’t for the war. It was so rude.”

“They almost flunked me out too!” Obi-Wan said, unexpectedly excited and accidentally far too loudly. “That’s just -”

“They what?” Master Anakin asked, glancing between Obi-Wan and a resigned General Kenobi. “They almost washed you out? You? That’s some weird difference, right?”

“You don’t know everything about me, Anakin,” General Kenobi said innocently. “Step up, you two, let’s be off.”

“It is a difference, right? You and this kid are completely - Master, right?”

Then it was another ten minutes of Anakin demanding General Kenobi’s secrets, which were all parried effortlessly. At times, they were riposted with an embarrassing anecdote from Anakin’s own childhood, which made Ahsoka cackle and left Obi-Wan occasionally surprised. Every story from Anakin’s earlier life, before he was fifteen, was only shared at his discretion. It wasn’t as if Obi-Wan sat around campfires with Master Tano and heard about Anakin losing his baby teeth or whatever. She spent most of her time saving the galaxy or something. Obi-Wan wasn’t too sure. It was a secret, apparently. Which was fine. Secrets were fine. Who cared. 

They didn’t go to the Council chambers, which was familiar. The Council rarely sat for a full session and heard reports or questions anymore. You just filed a question or something with them and they’d get to it. Obi-Wan saw a lot more of them than probably 90% of the Order, as all of Qui-Gon and Anakin’s missions were very important. As Master Qui-Gon was on the council, Obi-Wan heard a lot of dirt on them all the time. But maybe he was biased - Master Qui-Gon was only on the Council because he lost a bet with Mace Windu. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure who was the real winner or loser there. 

Today, General Kenobi just cheerily got rid of Ahsoka by asking her to run off and find Obi-Wan some ‘proper clothing’, and they shepherded Obi-Wan into one of their large briefing chambers. So they were seeing the Council between military briefings, then. Goes to show that this entire weird day was just another day to both Obi-Wan and the Council.

 Maybe this was normal. Maybe this was all just a thing that happened to people sometimes. Things happen all the time, to people all over the place. Granted, they normally happened to Obi-Wan, but that would make this just another thing that happens. 

Obi-Wan looked down at his socks. He was going into a Council meeting - in a place that did not exist, yet did - without shoes. Master Qui-Gon and Master Anakin would think this was the funniest thing ever. As this was Obi-Wan’s problem, he was less amused. 

There were three people around the giant holo table, with two others checked in by hologram. Obi-Wan was relieved to see that Master Yoda was not here. He wouldn’t have been able to handle that. 

Instead, he got Mace Windu, with a very familiar lady standing next to him, and Plo Koon standing on the other side. He saw the crisp hologram figure of Shaak Ti checked in by hologram. It was a strange relief that most of these people were familiar. He didn’t know what he would have done if Shaak Ti was an Initiate or something.

They all stopped talking when the three of them walked in. The various clones talking and working at the table stopped too, glancing upwards before professionally going back to work. Obi-Wan watched the Jedi’s eyes slide from General Kenobi, to him, then back to General Kenobi. 

“Fellow Councilmembers,” General Kenobi said, bowing slightly. “Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.”

Obi-Wan slowly pivoted on his heel to gape up at General Kenobi, who was radiating innocence. 

He was a Council member. Him. Him, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Council member. This was a joke. A joke, or a dream, or an imaginary tale. 

It felt like a mallet hitting his skull, sending his teeth ringing. He had done it. Obi-Wan Kenobi had accomplished every dream he had ever had, every childhood fantasy staring up at the pinprick lights in the creche. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the perfect Jedi. He had done it, all of it. He had accomplished it all. A Council member, master to the hero Jedi Knight and a talented up-and-coming Padawan. According to Ahsoka, he was the general of the GAR, and had slayed Sith during his own padawanship. Everybody he walked past bowed to him. Children stared up at him with sparkling eyes. Obi-Wan didn’t know how far his reach extended beyond the Temple and the war, but he was willing to bet that he had his fingers in a few political pies too. And all of that while maintaining a humble grace and an ideal Jedi air of serenity. 

Councilman Obi-Wan Kenobi was the dream Obi-Wan had once had. A dream he had given up on two years ago. And realizing it all, Obi-Wan felt…

“ - duce yourself. Padawan?”

Anakin’s familiar hand gently prodded at Obi-Wan’s back, and he startled out of his reverie. All of the masters were staring at him with abject fascination, ruining his dreams that this was something that happened every day. 

“I asked if you would like to introduce yourself, Padawan?” Mace Windu asked evenly. 

“Yeah, Mac - Master. Uh. Hi.” Obi-Wan just barely remembered to bow. “Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Commander of the 501st. Nice to meet you.”

Mace Windu didn’t look amused, but he never did. “I see we’ve already met, Padawan.”

Duh. Obi-Wan practically had to backflip away from Qui-Gon trying to get him to attend Teatime With Mace Windu. “Master Qui-Gon Jinn says to tell you that you stole the aloe from his quarters and that he wants it back.” The room froze, somewhat awkwardly, but Obi-Wan just kept the bored expression on his face. “Whoops. Did that not happen?”

The expression on Mace’s face clinched it. That draw of the brow - an old sadness. “I believe I would have told Qui-Gon that I’m not responsible for the bugs eating his plants.”

“So it is you,” Obi-Wan said bluntly. He glanced at the woman next to him, who was looking more delighted than fascinated. Something about her was really very… “Holy shit. Depa? Is that you?”

“Padawan Tano isn’t like this,” Mace said to General Kenobi. “You can’t blame Skywalker.”

“Trust me, Mace, I am struggling to figure out who to blame.”

“Am I younger where you’re from?” Depa asked Obi-Wan, smiling brightly. She really was just the same, if a little sadder. But Obi-Wan was used to that. “I remember working on creche duty with you at that age.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed on creche duty since The Accident. “I can’t believe you’re on the Council now,” Obi-Wan said, amazed. “That’s amazing. You knew you had it in you, Depa. You totally deserve this. You’re an awesome Jedi.” He looked around as Depa beamed. “So are you on the Council instead of Master Dume?”

“Do you mean Caleb?” Depa asked, surprised. “He’s really a Council Master where you’re from? Oh, that’s darling.” She looked at Mace, elbowing him slightly. “Master, Caleb’s on the Council! Isn’t that so cute?”

“Depa, please.”

“I’m just imagining his little feet hanging off the seats -”

“How many people are messed up?” Anakin asked, alarmed. “How far does this go? Is Yoda a baby? Obi-Wan, if Yoda’s a baby you have to tell me. I’m your master, you have to tell me.”

“Yoda hasn’t even been born yet,” Obi-Wan hissed. 

“It’s a pleasure to have young Obi-Wan with us here today,” Plo Koon rasped, and they all fell guiltily silent. “Why don’t we describe what happened from the top.”

General Kenobi drew himself up seriously. “Of course. At 0910, I received a call from my second Marshal Commander Cody…”

Blah, blah, blah. As usual, General Kenobi left out a lot of stuff, but he probably had everything important in there. Everybody nodded or furrowed their brow or looked intent. Anakin shifted from foot to foot, and Obi-Wan subtly elbowed him to keep him standing straight. As usual. If Obi-Wan checked out enough, he could pretend General Kenobi’s droning voice was Master Qui-Gon’s.

But Master Qui-Gon wasn’t here. He never would be. That was alright. It really wasn’t any of Obi-Wan’s business. But…

“And you, Padawan Kenobi?” Shaak Ti asked, snapping Obi-Wan back to focus again. “Does that fit with your experience?”

“Probably.” Obi-Wan shrugged. “I was asleep and then I was here. That’s all I got.”

Everybody glanced at each other. Master Anakin had face #5 - ‘Obi-Wan is punishment for my sins’. Interestingly, General Kenobi was wearing the exact same face. 

But Plo Koon was still looking at Obi-Wan, making him stare at the ground. You couldn’t be rude to Plo. You just couldn’t. “I seem to recall you had more than a few night terrors in the creche, young one.”

General Kenobi looked sharply at him. “You’re still having the visions?”

Obi-Wan fought the urge to hunch his shoulders. “You aren’t? I can hardly turn them off!”

“I mastered them once I became a padawan, and they ceased,” General Kenobi said coolly. “They are very dangerous to the untrained mind. Didn’t Qui-Gon coach you through this?”

“We’re a little busy, what with the war and all,” Obi-Wan snapped. “They’re useful, anyway! They’ve gotten me out of a jam or two.”

“Visions of the future can be dangerous,” Plo Koon intoned, tapping a finger on his respirator. “They can tangle the viewer in their infinite paths. Many matured Jedi masters have lost themselves to a vision that runs too deeply or too far. They’re not a power to use lightly.”

“Oh, the whole damn galaxy’s dangerous,” Obi-Wan snapped. Plo Koon looked at him. Obi-Wan fought a flush. “Sorry, master. But it is. It’s not as if I like having them. I know they’re dangerous. But they’re not something I can just start and stop. You can’t always control the dangerous stuff in your life…”

Mace put his hands in his robe, face creasing thoughtfully. “Times like this I do wish we had Qui-Gon here to consult,” he said ruefully, before nodding at the two Obi-Wans. “Thankfully, we have his two best students here to help.”

“Three,” Obi-Wan piped up, before pausing. “Oh. Just two, I guess. Sorry, Master.”

“I thought you said Ahsoka trained me,” Master asked, clearly wondering this for a while. “Why did both Ahsoka and Qui-Gon train me?”

“Because the no-good, closed minded, idiot Council believed the Senate when they framed her for terrorism and kicked her out when you were fifteen,” Obi-Wan said blandly. “Your words.”

Everybody looked at Anakin, who flushed. “Okay, first of all, not my words. And - what? They can’t just kick out a Jedi on the Senate’s say-so. Ahsoka wasn’t - she wasn’t arrested, right?”

“No, she’s some kind of spy now. I don’t keep track.” Obi-Wan turned back to the council, fighting the beating of his heart. “And to answer the question you didn’t ask, Master Koon - I did have a vision last night. The minute it broke, I woke up here.”

“What did you see?” Shaak Ti asked. 

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything. He looked at General Kenobi, who was keeping an expressionless face, and at Master Anakin, who seemed stuck on the Ahsoka thing. He wanted Cody here. He didn’t know how he would help, but - but he wanted Cody here. 

Who were these people? He didn’t know. They were all going to help. They said they would get him home, and they probably will. General Kenobi was a hero, and he could probably do anything. The most brilliant minds in the Jedi Order would help, and they would unwrinkle the Force and make everything right again.

When had Obi-Wan stopped believing that? When had he lost faith that the Jedi could make everything okay, that the Force would always protect him? When did he lose confidence in his master’s ability to guide him, or lose confidence in himself that he would grow up to be a good man?

“Maybe I saw this,” Obi-Wan said evenly. “Maybe I saw a strange, obscure vision, warning me of a possible self, and I’m trapped in that vision now.” He looked at General Kenobi, at his pale face. “Or maybe this is a vision you’re having, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And you haven’t mastered them as well as you think you have.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” General Kenobi said. The room was still, the only sound was the crackle of the holotable. The clones were deathly quiet, fading into the background as they had been trained to do. “I can assure you, I’m capable of recognizing when the Force is showing me something. Or when a landscape isn’t real.”

“Just like you were so sure on Malachor?” Obi-Wan taunted, and General Kenobi blinked in a minute flinch. “I don’t know, General. The Force has a talent for making us confront the secret people within ourselves. I wouldn’t put it past your dangerous visions to put the person you hate most in front of you.”

Anakin put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, trying to pull him away. “Obi-Wan, maybe you should -”

But Obi-Wan just shook him off. He refused to break eye contact with General Kenobi - pushing, pushing, pushing. “You didn’t even tell your own padawan about how you were almost kicked out of the Order, did you? Of course you couldn’t. It doesn’t fit your image. The Order’s greatest Jedi couldn’t possibly be a failure.”

“That’s enough,” General Kenobi said. It came out as a strange sort of strangled whisper. “That’s not why -”

“God forbid everyone see what a lying, mediocre, failure you are!” Obi-Wan found his hands shaking, and he clenched them tightly into fists. “You can fool the whole damn galaxy, Obi-Wan, but you can’t fool me. I’m the one person who knows how much of a phony you really are. Maybe the Force thought that you needed me to come tell you so.”

“Then it would have pulled a figure from my past,” General Kenobi said harshly. At some point Anakin had backed up, but everybody else was just watching them. “It would have taken you from Melida/Daan, or Bandomeer. It wouldn’t give me a boy that never existed.”

“Then maybe both of us are learning something today,” Obi-Wan said finally. He took a step back. One, then two. “Maybe I needed to see the kind of person I would have been if it wasn’t for the war. I guess the Force wanted to show me how thoroughly the war ruined me!” He waved a hand at the assembled Council, chest rising and falling faster and faster. “I could have had this. I could have had your nice life, with your nice little family that worships you and pays attention to you. The war took that away from me! But - but good! Because I’d rather be my awful, childish, imperfect self than live a lie!"

He couldn’t take this anymore. He didn’t want to be cruel to this person anymore - this trapped, hurt person, who draped himself in nice hair and a fancy robe and who knew he didn’t deserve any of it. This person who knew there was something wrong with his family, but who never admitted it. Who could lie to everybody, maybe even lie to himself, up until everything comes crashing down. Who still thought being a Jedi meant anything at all. 

Obi-Wan turned on his heel and left the conference chamber. He walked down the hallway, the familiar marble of the Temple floors cold against his socks. It hit on a strange memory, one that Obi-Wan had almost forgotten. He and Bant and Garen and Reeft and Siri and Quinlan had all snuck out of their Bear clan rooms after curfew to go play in the hallways. They had felt like such criminals, tossing balls back and forth and running up and down. He could remember it now: the way that he ran as far as he could, as long as he dared, the cold tile hitting his feet in a steady rhythm. After long enough, it felt almost as if he was flying.

Obi-Wan didn’t run down the hallway of the Temple, but he let his feet guide him. People stared, eyes running down his nerf-tail to his lightsaber and to his socks. He didn’t know them, and they’d never see him again. In a way, Obi-Wan was long dead. Anybody who saw him would only see a ghost. 

Was Quinlan an adult? Holy shit, was Quinlan, like, thirty? He had to find Quinlan. That would be so funny. But what if Quinlan was ripped and tall? What if he was taller than adult Obi-Wan? He couldn’t take that chance. 

Thankfully, his feet didn’t lead him to Quinlan. They lead him towards a private training room instead, where he found Ahsoka warming up on the mats. She didn’t seem surprised to see him. She just grinned as she leaned over to touch her toes, padawan bead swinging against her cheek. 

“Council meeting didn’t go so hot?”

“Had an existential crisis. Yelled at venerated Jedi masters. Yelled at myself. The usual.” Obi-Wan sighed and stripped off his jacket, hanging it up on a peg as he rotated his own shoulders. “When I go home Cody’s going to take one look at me and ground me for a week. He doesn’t even know. He can smell guilt on you.”

“Is that how he always knows when Master Obi-Wan snuck a cup of caff?” Ahsoka asked, delighted. The rest of Obi-Wan’s sentence clearly processed through her. “Wait. Why does Cody ground you?”

“Who else is going to do it?”

Ahsoka stared at him for a second, before shrugging and pointing to a corner of the salle - where, thankfully, brand new shoes his size were waiting. Obi-Wan eagerly jammed them on his feet as Ahsoka went back to her stretches. 

“That tracks. Normally Master Obi-Wan is the one who...you know, gets on my case about stuff, gives me Archive duty as a punishment, that kind of thing. Master Qui-Gon doesn’t…?”

Obi-Wan just shook his head, sitting down on the floor to match her stretches. “He believes in...I think Admiral Yularen called it ‘free range children’. He just lets me do whatever, mostly.” Obi-Wan fought to keep his voice casual about it. It was pretty easy. He had a lot of practice. “It’s really fun. Whenever we’re on Coruscant, I just do whatever I want.”

“Man, I’m jealous.” Ahsoka did a truly stunning act of flexibility that made Obi-Wan stare fixedly at the ceiling. “Skyguy’s awesome, and he’s great to train with, but he doesn’t really do that whole teaching jag either. Which is totally fine -”

“It’s great, he teaches so many awesome moves!”

“Right! But then it’s usually Master Obi-Wan teaching me the meditation stuff and...whatever.” Ahsoka waved a hand. “You know. Do you?”

“I thought I didn’t,” Obi-Wan said, “but maybe I do.”

“Word.” Ahsoka scrambled up, offering a hand to Obi-Wan and helping pull him up. “You’re still down for that match, right?”

Ah. Obi-Wan laughed awkwardly. “You know, I really am very tired -”

“If you don’t fight me you’re a pussy.”

“Jedi do not respond to childish insults,” Obi-Wan said primly. Then he called his lightsaber to his hand from his jacket, letting it smack right into his palm. “Commanders of the 501st, however, do.”

Ahoska grinned viciously, unhooking both of her sabers from her belt and lighting them. They weren’t her usual white, but instead a green and a greenish-yellow. “I guess that makes this an even match.”

“That’s a relief,” Obi-Wan said loftily, thumbing the button on his lightsaber and letting it explode in a familiar blue glow. “I was afraid I would have to take a handicap.”

“Oh, you are so on.”

********

It was close.

Honestly, Obi-Wan was just ecstatic over that. Ahsoka Tano was Ahsoka freaking Tano. She had been trained by Count Dooku. Back in the day, she was the Jedi you sent to the war zones. If you had a dark sider problem, you called Ahsoka Tano. It was no small wonder Anakin Skywalker was that good - he had been trained by the best. And then he trained Obi-Wan, who was...well, Obi-Wan. Even this Ahsoka had been trained by the best. Although apparently Count Dooku hadn’t been involved, which was probably for the best in the long run.

Obi-Wan had the sense that if he had been the same age as her, he might have won. As it was, after an extremely long battle that left footprints on the ceiling, part of Obi-Wan’s nerf-tail singed off, Ahsoka’s whole padawan braid burned off, and more than half a dozen burns for each of them, Obi-Wan ended up on the floor with Ahsoka’s blades crossed over his neck. 

“I win,” Ahsoka panted. She was dripping with sweat. “Give up?”

“Sure,” Obi-Wan said, “this time.” 

She withdrew her sabers, and Obi-Wan withdrew his own. She reached a hand down and helped him up, but Obi-Wan jokingly pulled her to the floor with him. They both collapsed on the floor, out of breath and gasping, and lay there for a few comfortable seconds before Ahsoka spoke again. 

“Wow. I can’t believe I just beat Obi-Wan freaking Kenobi.”

“Three inches taller and I’ll end you,” Obi-Wan said darkly.

“You’re the best duelist in the Order, Obi-Wan!” Ahsoka cried. She sat up, wiping sweat out of her eyes, and Obi-Wan reluctantly followed her. “To be as good as you were when you were my age...you don’t know what that means to me.”

“I’m certain you were better than him,” Obi-Wan said, jerking a thumb towards the door. “He hadn’t fought with the 501st when he was my age. So congrats, Master Tano - the student has become the master.”

But Ahsoka just looked down at her hands, at the two lightsabers clenched in her fists. She dropped them in her lap, wiping her hands on her dress. “I can’t believe it,” she said quietly. “They all said I was too angry. I wasn’t good at the politics and diplomacy classes. I was too much for them. If it wasn’t for our dwindling numbers and the war, then I’d be in some Corp by now.”

“Well, screw them!” Obi-Wan said hotly. He folded his legs, sitting in front of her. “The Jedi Order hasn’t produced soldiers for a thousand years. What do they know about what makes a good soldier or not? Maybe it’s the actual padawans on the front lines who should decide what makes a good Jedi-soldier or not.”

“That’s what I keep saying!” Ahsoka cried. She crossed her legs too, drawing them close to her chest. “Master Anakin gets it. He knows how to teach on the field. But - but Luminara was so strict about it! She was always telling me and - she was always telling me that a good Jedi never wants victory, only accepts the outcome.”

“Luminara? Oh, she’s a priss.” Obi-Wan scoffed. Ugh. Luminara. “But even my Luminara knows that you have to want victory in order to win. Victory doesn’t just happen. You have to fight for it.”

“Exactly!” Ahsoka said. She was growing more and more excited, and Obi-Wan found himself fired up too. Ahsoka was the only Jedi Obi-Wan had ever talked to who got it. Even Quinlan and Ferrus didn’t. “My master’s always saying that boldness wins the day. But my old textbooks say that you should only react, never start the fight. I don’t know who to believe.”

“The Seppies are the ones who started the fight,” Obi-Wan said, peeved. “So no matter what we do, we’re just reacting to it. You can interpret that stuff however you want, you know. The philosophy’s so vague you can just make it say whatever you want. It doesn’t matter.”

“But I want it to matter,” Ahsoka said weakly. Or as weak as Ahsoka ever got. “I get what you’re saying. But being a Jedi is who I am. Without our teachings, without that faith...I don’t know if I’d be anybody at all.”

“That’s banthacrap,” Obi-Wan said angrily. Ahsoka’s eyes widened, but Obi-Wan waved it away. “Not you, it makes sense that you think that. But you’re so much more than a Jedi, Ahsoka! The Ahsoka Tano I know - the Jedi betrayed her! They exiled her from the Order! And you know what? You went eight years being just as cool and heroic as you were with the Jedi. Who you are - the Jedi didn’t give you that. You did!”

“Wait,” Ahsoka said, “they what?”

“The Jedi betrayed me too!” Obi-Wan found himself scrambling up, high on self-righteousness and conviction. “They betrayed all of us when they signed us up for this stupid war. We didn’t choose to be soldiers any more than the clones did. We’re taught as children that the Force is infallible. Maybe it is, but the Jedi sure aren’t. We’re corrupt, and everybody knows it. But nobody wants to say it, because if we aren’t Jedi, then what are we?”

Ahsoka’s expression tightened, but it didn’t look like she disagreed with him. “The last person I heard who spoke like that Fell.”

Obi-Wan grimaced. He knew. One little criticism of the Jedi and people think that you’re about to turn into a cackling murderer. It didn’t help that a lot of the most vocal Jedi criticisms came either from idiots, evil jerks, or evil idiots. “If we’re slipping into the Dark, then so is the whole damn Order. I don’t - I don’t hate anybody here, Ahsoka. They’re my family. I love them. I hate what the Senate says about us, and nobody who runs around murdering innocent people gets a say in how we run ourselves. I just hate what we’ve turned into.”

“I know,” Ahsoka said quietly. “I know. I can’t stop wondering what my life after the war is going to look like. What everybody’s life is going to look like - the padawans and the clones. I can’t just put a robe back on and go back to being a monk. I never really was. I don’t know how we can come back from what we’re being forced to do.”

“Then stop worrying about it,” Obi-Wan said firmly. He forced a smile, holding his lightsaber aloft. “Maybe you’ll be a hero just like my Master Tano. I’m going to become a soldier that Cody will be proud of. I’ll become a Knight and keep saving planets and people. I won’t stop fighting. The Senate and the Jedi don’t got a say in it.”

Ahsoka laughed, standing up and shaking out her legs. She reached a hand down to Obi-Wan, and helped pull him up for real. “It would be pretty cool to team up with you. Knight Tano and Knight Kenobi, cutting down slavers. That’s what I would like to do.”

“Oh, we’d beat up all of them. And then we’d move onto Death Watch. Then maybe we’d take down that sleeze Nute Gunray!”

Ahsoka laughed louder, almost cackling. “I’d like to see him try to bribe my lightsaber away from his neck!”

“I have a list of the worst politicians in the galaxy,” Obi-Wan said. “Trust me, I got dirt on all of them. I’m going to ruin them all.”

“What, you aren’t assassinating them all?” Ahsoka asked, propping her hands on her hips.

“Death is too quick.”

“You are so cool.”

They kept talking like that, laughing and joking, until Ahsoka stood up and begged off to take a shower. Obi-Wan told her to go ahead, and that he’d follow right behind her. He lay on the floor of the training salle, fighting for breath, feeling sweat creep down his neck. 

If this was a vision, what was it showing him? Maybe it was proving that he was right. That even another girl in another time, in the same place, agreed with him. That he was more powerful than he knew. Was he really the best duellist in the Order? That couldn’t be faked…

Obi-Wan stood up, swiping a towel over his face and taking his jacket off the hook. He shrugged it on as he walked out of the salle, turning to follow Ahsoka down the hall when he saw General Kenobi sitting on the ground against the wall next to the door. He was crying. 

It wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t particularly subtle either. He had one leg stretched out on the ground, and one leg bent against his chest. His elbow was propped on that knee so his hand covered his face, covering the thick tracks of tears trailing down it. His shoulders were shaking slightly. Obi-Wan felt it in the Force: the pull-release, pull-release, of someone desperately searching for calm but not finding it. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t think of anything to say, but he didn’t want to just walk away either. How long had he been sitting here? He must have been listening in on their conversation. Why was he crying?

But when General Kenobi spoke, his voice was clear and strong. “So this was it. So this was it…”

“What are you talking about?” Obi-Wan asked sharply. “If you’re just going to make fun of me again -!”

“No, Obi-Wan. No, I’ve done more than enough of that.” General Kenobi wiped at his eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring distantly up at the tile ceiling. “I suppose I can add one more name onto the list of people I’ve hurt. That’s exciting. It just grows longer and longer…”

“What are you talking about?” Obi-Wan asked crossly. What was with this guy and his riddles? “Look, I don’t care about you. You’re just a ghost. I don’t need to be haunted by a life that I never lived.”

“How can one be haunted by the future?” General Kenobi said cryptically. “No, Obi-Wan. I’m afraid this one's for me. I’m sorry to drag you into this.” He faltered, just for a second. “I’m sorry for dragging all of you into this. You, Ahsoka. Barriss. Anakin. All of them.You didn’t do anything wrong.” He rubbed at his face again, and Obi-Wan saw for the first time how exhausted he was. He had hidden it so well. Not even Obi-Wan could tell. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever said that to myself. My, that’s rather pathetic.”

“It’s easier to say it to someone else than yourself.” Obi-Wan stood in front of the Jedi, one hand drifting to the comforting weight of his lightsaber. “Look, everything you want to say to me you’d probably be better off telling yourself. If you want to, like, hug your inner child, then I’m not really down for that, but Master’s usually down for a hug -”

“I really hate you, you know.”

Obi-Wan froze. General Kenobi was staring at him - fixed, unblinking, real. He didn’t look away, and Obi-Wan found himself matching it. 

“You’re a nasty, pretentious kid,” General Kenobi continued. “Mediocre. Desperate for everything - desperate to be noticed, to be praised, to be loved. You have a chip on your shoulder and you’ll do anything to prove yourself. Finally prove to everybody that you’re something more than the person you feel like. That you’re more than that scared thirteen year old who nobody wanted.” His voice dropped low, into a hoarse whisper. “I spent twenty years trying to drown you. And now you’re here, and…and you remind me so much of Anakin. That look in your eyes...Anakin has that look. I always loved that about him. I can’t hate that look in your eyes...”

“Nice for you,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “Anakin and Qui-Gon don’t get me at all. Nobody gets me. Sometimes Qui-Gon just looks at me and Anakin and I know he’s wondering where he went wrong. I’m a disappointment to you and them.”

“Then they failed you,” General Kenobi said simply. “It is in our nature to fail each other. I assure you that they’re trying quite hard, Obi-Wan. Even if it’s not enough.”

“Jedi always fail me,” Obi-Wan snapped. “I’m not good enough for them, and they don’t get me. Why keep trying and trying to get something they’re never going to give?”

“All of the Jedi have failed you,” General Kenobi said, calm as anything. “We have failed you and all of our padawans. We have failed the clones. I didn’t realize until now. Ahsoka has - well, Ahsoka has always been simply Ahsoka. A little too much like Anakin. I wonder what your Ahsoka is like. If she’s kinder, or if she’s wiser. I’ll never know, I suppose.” He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “We have done you a great injustice, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’m sorry. Thank you for coming here and showing me this.”

Thank you. Thank you?

Obi-Wan backed up, and he found that hot tears were pricking at his eyes. The man on the floor in front of him didn’t move - defeated, abandoned, dead. In him there was a strange death of hope - a final understanding of a failure so complete it freezed the soul. He seemed almost made for it. His face only ever seemed to carry sadness. 

“Your apologies don’t mean anything!” Obi-Wan yelled. His voice echoed down the corridor again and again, bouncing through infinite space. “You wasted your life hating yourself, and now you’ve become somebody who lets other kids suffer. Too bad! You can’t do anything to fix it. It’s far too late for that. You made people like me and Ahsoka, and we aren’t going to go away!”

But General Kenobi didn’t seem to be paying attention. He just looked at Obi-Wan, strange and distant. “You look just like Anakin,” he said, almost to himself. “But there’s something of Qui-Gon in you. Isn’t that strange.”

“You’re wasting your life trying to be just like Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan said furiously. Was he even listening? Was Obi-Wan yelling into the cavernous empty void that stretched to either side of them, fading only into darkness? The door behind them was gone, replaced by a dark wall. “You’ll never match up to that perfect ghost. Hate me all you want, I’m still you. I’m not Anakin or Ahsoka or Qui-Gon, or anybody you loved. I’m just me, and I’m everything the world’s made me into. You have to love that too, or you’re going to spend the rest of your life miserable!”

Then the wall was gone too, and Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan were left alone with only themselves in the infinite nothing. 

Maybe that was the worst part about it. Obi-Wan was only ever left alone with himself. In the dark reaches of night, lying alone in his cramped bunk - he was left alone with himself. There wasn’t anybody else to be. No matter how hard he tried. 

“How long can you live hating yourself?” General Kenobi breathed. “It’s so difficult. You don’t want to feed that person, or take care of him. He doesn’t deserve the people he loves. His status and security is a lie. When he steps onto a battlefield, you don’t want him to come out. Before you know it, you’ve become the people who have hurt him. How do you wake him up every day?”

“Hate me all you want!” Obi-Wan screamed, his voice swallowed by the void. “I’ll hate you back! I’ll hate you just as much as you hate me!”

“Obi-Wan, I don’t hate you,” Master Kenobi said. “I just get so sad when I look at you. I can’t bear it. I just can’t bear it.”

“Then don’t look!”

But maybe Obi-Wan was a hypocrite. He looked away first. 

He tore his eyes away from his future self, and let the nothing inside.

Or maybe it was the everything. Maybe it was the Force, or the absence of the Force. If one was infinite, then so was the other. If there was an adult then there was a child, and if there was fear then there was anger. Behind every regret is a decision you refused to make. And they curved in on themselves, forming an awful horrible cycle, creating an endless chain of Obi-Wans and Anakins and masters and students and death and life. 

Maybe Obi-Wan Kenobi had been right. It was too much to bear, and too awful to look at. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. 

********

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open, and his vision broke.

Scratchy sheets, bundled in his fist. Thin pillow. Cody, on the other side of the room. His back was to Obi-Wan, and he was typing quietly away at a datapad. Answering mail, or filling out a form. Always forms. 

He didn’t know the time. He didn’t care too much. His head hurt. 

He bundled his sheets a little closer, pulling them up to his nose. He watched Cody type and type, listened to the hum of the air recycler, and if he concentrated then he could feel the sea of familiar Force signatures surrounding him in comfort and warmth. 

Obi-Wan wanted to go back to sleep, but he didn’t. He lay here instead, existing in that moment, focusing on nothing else but the rise and fall of his chest that reminded him he was still alive. 

“Cody.”

Cody jerked, spinning around on his chair to look at Obi-Wan. His eyes widened, quickly getting up and walking to squat at his bedside. “How are you feeling, Commander?”

Obi-Wan mumbled something that might have been confessing to a headache.

“You’ve been asleep for a while,” Cody said evenly, “so I’m not surprised. Rex said it might be your strange Force magic, sir.”

Oh. That made sense. Obi-Wan blinked blearily before pulling the blanket back up. “Yeah. Head hurt. Five more minutes.”

“Sure,” Cody said, straightening. “Five more minutes. Then back to work.”

But he didn’t wake Obi-Wan up again, and he fell back into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Belle Of The Ball: Dark! King! Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: So this my first ever proper dark fic and I’m so nervous. I finished it but my mind thinks it’s garbage. so I’m gonna post this now when I’m feeling a random spurt of courage and am confident in my work. So here’s my masterpiece, cookies.

This is for Dark!MCU  Festive Fic swap hosted by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor  and @darkmcuficswap

My giftee is @hermesmaximoff Hope you enjoy it love!

Thanking @firefly-graphics for the dividers: both personalised and general.

There is also an amateur somewhat okay shitty poster I decided to make which is included at the end.  

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC CONTAINING DUBIOUS CONSENT BORDERING NON-CON AND EXPLICIT SMUT. YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. LOSS OF VIRGINITY, ABUSE OF AUTHORITY, BREEDING KINK ALSO PRESENT.

Summary: Invited to the Royal ball by the benevolent monarch, you could barely control your excitement to visit the Capital. While you were busy admiring his prosperous reign, King Steve was quite occupied getting enamoured by you. As you try to fulfil the King’s demands, secrets find their way out.

CHARACTERS + GENRE: DARK!STEVE ROGERS X READER, SUPERNATURAL STEVE ROGERS X READER (read to find out what), ROYAL AU, HALLOWEEN THEME (I tried for the request, hope you do like it)

King Steve Rogers invites the princes and the princesses of all Kingdoms, near and afar,

To celebrate his several years of reign.

He requests thy kind and noble presence

At the joyous regale

of his auspicious ball

On the thirty first of October,

after sundown, in His Majesty’s finest castle.

Challenging thy with the unique theme of

A Halloween Masquerade Ball,

The King expects exceptional indulgence from all.

 The Most Grandiose Halloween Celebration is being organised with the spookiest of events within.

Come here if you dare.

“We have been invited to a royal party! My day couldn’t have been better!” Your elder sister exclaimed, jumping quite unladylike in your chambers, as you went through the details of the venue. You chuckled at her antics, knowing rather well that she would be scolded if someone else was present. 

“Emma, Mother has to approve first. As Lady Ava always says, don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

“As if mother would really decline an invite from the King, dear sister.” She rolled her eyes at you, not letting her enthusiasm die as you pondered over her words.

Your sister had a point though, the King summoning your presence was not to be taken lightly. The invitation came up handwritten in a scroll with the King’s wax seal atop it. It was placed elegantly beside a golden mask in a rectangular black box, that bore the Majesty’s sigil on the front.  

The theme of the ball wasn’t that peculiar if you reflected over it, the renowned monarch was also recognised for his distinct interest in eerie, unearthly beings. He was known for adventuring into haunted lands, mysterious manors and sinister soils, meeting up with people rumoured to be sorcerers and occultists.

Of course, the reason for his encounters was sometimes rumoured to be because of his familial distress, how he couldn’t find a mate to procreate with and conceive his own heir no matter what. Three females, who were pregnant with a progeny of his blood, none his wife though, had died during the first two or tercet months, reason unspecified why.  

Coming to You, you and your sister weren’t actual princesses, rather the daughters of one of the esteemed Ministers in the King’s cabinet. The benevolent King, however referred to the daughters of the town, more exactly, the Kingdom, as noblewomen. He held high reverence for the females and was the sole creditor to the improved condition of the women in this era. No matter how troubled his own life was, the King was the most merciful royal to be crowned to date, his people prospering under him.

Your sister nodded eagerly to your mother, drinking in her words like the fine tea you all had in the afternoons, while you just smiled at her advice.

 When you both met your mother for dinner, you were surprised to find her already informed about the invitation. Her conformity to the celebration astonished you even more, but Emma’s zeal was starting to rub off on you too by the end of the meal. 

Your mother continued, “Your father mentioned The Majesty is looking for a wife, quite possibly. He has been insistent in trying to get a successor the correct way this time, by courting the lady who piques his interest. Even though this might be a rumour, or some gossip spun by the ladies of the Cabinet, you both should try your best to be graceful and presentable. Among the hundreds of guests, he’d be having over, on the off-chance, if Gods allow, that either of you manages to entice him, it will only promise you the most pleasant of all forthcomings. It would also do me and your father some good, if you managed to find some other suitable bachelor, from a nice background to engage with.”

Your sister had always been one with the more overactive imagination out of you two, while you had been the more serene and poised one. When she’d be out playing with the children in your town, you’d be talking to the younger toddlers, drawing with chalks on the side. For every kid she splashed with water in the nearby sapphire river, you made tots flower crowns. These were the values you both grew up with, and these will be the values you’d die with.

After days of shopping velvet fabrics and silk textiles, and bothering your seamster to make sophisticated and stylish dresses, you both neared your day of departure. After some instructions to you both to represent your father and town well, your mother bid you adieu. It was nerve wracking to not have your mother by your side, for an event as big as this was, but since you both had passed more than twenty name days, you were expected to be proper, independent ladies. 

With a heavy heart and some self, positive affirmations, you and your sister embarked on the voyage, which was filled with her chitchat.

You only hoped that the gala was as exciting as your family made it out to be. That it was just a King trying to celebrate his sovereign with some western festival integrated together. That the event would not be as unnerving and creepy as the last line of his invitation made it out to be. 

For some unknown cause, it did not sit well with you. Your apprehensive intuition made you wary of the invitation for some reason, but you let your sibling’s zest take you over. What benefit would fretting get you?

The ball was far more pompous than anything you’d have imagined in your little head. All the ideas that Emma had come up with during your journey, to anticipate the extent of extravagance for the ball, were all exceeded with tenfold finesse. You had travelled to faraway, distant lands with your parents, but the King’s mansion, with all the festivity happening, was truly a sight to behold.

Entering The Capital had been the highlight of your excursion, you were sure earlier, but well you were proved wrong. Your father greeted you both when you had arrived, eager to see his angels after almost six moons, and had ensured you both got the best of the accommodations in the well-built, enormous fort. He introduced you to several of his comrades as well as their brooding, young lads and then, left you both to rest for the main event next eve. With two maids at your every beck and call, courtesy of your father, your time went smoothly and now you found yourself at the said Halloween themed celebration, staring around in awe of every little detail that had been so meticulously handled to make the event as dazzling as it was.

The servants were dressed rather ridiculously as cats, wearing some bizarre structure resembling cat ears, horribly short black dresses barely past their thighs and some whiskers draw using either coal or makeup, you weren’t sure. It was a poor attempt to make them appear feline. However, the food was as immaculate as everything else, entirely themed like only blood red wine, candied apples, chicken pumpkins, cheesecake brain, mummy muffins, some appetizer with bell peppers as jack-o-lanterns; these were the few that met your sights.

The hall was so grand, almost the size of three jousting arenas and playing fields combined with pillars having detailed architecture supporting the place. The walls were covered in scarlet, golden and black velvet drapes, the royal colours, and beautiful masquerade masks were pinned atop them, along the walls. Almost hundred round, white clothed tables filled the ballroom, with gold plated candlesticks and utensils upon them. The entire place had entertainers progressing around, the essence of it being magicians, clowns, contortionists, palm and tarot card readers. 

In the centre of the hall, was an empty space, reserved for the soon to be ensuing dancing. An orchestra on the side had beautiful instruments, playing soft melodies for now, reserving the upscale beats for later.

You had only read a few books on Halloween to be prepared but nothing could have geared you up for this. Your small-town self was gaping at everything with a childlike wonder while somehow your sister was quite composed and calm, somehow your roles had been reversed. 

Emma was wearing a blue gown, having several layers of nets and cloth, each a different shade of azure. She tried to dress as the mythical creature called mermaid, with crystal heels and a beaded neckline. Her masquerade mask had scales like fish, made using shining sequins. She looked so gorgeous, truly managing to look captivating.

You on the other hand were dressed like an angel, which you were against, finding it too mainstream and typical and wanted to dress like an enchantress with violet and jade colours, which your mother immediately negated. On demand of your sister, she let you wear a fluffy white ball gown, and had you made wings with dove feathers, an apparatus which was astonishingly light to wear. Using her art and craft skills, Emma made you a headband with two wires attached to a metal ring, shaped like an angel’s halo. The loop at top made of some special metal that glowed golden in the dark, making it look like a real, floating halo. Your mask had a fur lining on it, and silver sparkles were sprinkled all over you, with pretty makeup on your face, courtesy of your sibling.

The change in music brought you out of your reverie, as trumpets and harps began to hum, signifying the arrival of the King on the grand staircase. He had a crimson red velvet cape descending his broad shoulders, his tuxedo underneath could hide neither his long legs nor his bulging, protruding biceps. His black, shining shoes cost more than your entire apparel, you were certain. 

As your gaze ascended his masculine form, you were mesmerised furthermore with his high cheekbones, full lips tainted cherry pink, a Grecian slanting nose, sleek eyebrows, luscious blonde hair, a thick beard and the best of all yet, cerulean blue eyes, the prettiest you’d ever seen in the entirety of your small life. The ladies beside you, Emma included, had the same reaction whether they had witnessed his Highness before or not. Every female’s gaze seemed to flicker between his azure eyes and the Golden crown resting atop his blonde locks, flooded with rubies and emeralds and gemstones you weren’t sure your books had.

For a moment you felt his eyes land on you, which surprised you even more so, that you questioned yourself about it, but his cheeky grin and wink confirmed it, make you shiver involuntarily as heat spread through your face while a titillating stir ran through you, a first for you. His impeccably white teeth were clearly visible now, showing two elongated canines, which finally gave you a sense of his attire, paired with his blush lips, A Vampire.

He spoke a few words, eyes unsteadily wavering, observing different members of the gathering. He let the dances commence, partnering with his most suitable match at the festivity, the daughter of the wealthiest lord. After the first song was over, other couples joined alongside him while you stood at the side, observing everything. Only mere moments ago had your sister been courted by a young man, the two of them shooting each other coy glances since they had entered. 

A tap on your shoulder had you puzzled, you turned around focus landing on warm, brown eyes. You recalled him to be Lord Stark’s son, Peter, having met him yesterday at dawn. His familiar brown eyes gave you sense of comfort, which you liked, not being alongside Emma now.

“Shall we?” He asked, his cheeks ruby like yours were, as he extended the palm of his hand towards you. You giggled, smiling like a little babe who got extra cookies for dessert, and accepted his hand. Sauntering to the dancing arena, you only prayed to The Heavens above that Lady Ava taught you enough to embarrass neither yourself nor your guild.

Tracing his steps and following his lead, you did manage to dance without falling, which was a surprise seeing how spread out your wings were. You and him made easy conversation, about your hometowns and interests.  You saw your Father proudly looking at you and Emma, dancing with lads, you guessed, he approved of.

As the song ended and the orchestra played a transitioning tune between the melodies, a cough sounded beside you as you and Peter stopped. Your eyes widened as you nervously curtsied beside Peter, A ‘Your Majesty” falling from both your lips.

“If it’s not too much trouble, may I share a dance with the most stunning dame here?” 

Peter politely stepped back, letting go of your waist, as The King’s wide stature more than filled his place. Your heart was beating rather loudly, blood pumping to your ears as you tried to make sense of what was happening. In your peripheral vision you could see the prying eyes of others looking at you both, ready to criticize you for one wrong move. Your father watched intently, a slight warning in his eyes to not mess this opportunity up while your sister comfortingly smiled at you. You tried to even your breaths and make sense of what he was saying, to not just stand and gape like a fool in court.

As the harmony played out, he swayed you around, lifting you up and twirling you around. Compliments spewed out from his lips, making you crimson like freshly ripened apples. You couldn’t keep up with your expression of gratitude through your words as he admired your eyes, your elegance and your ensemble which just couldn’t make him shift his eyes from you. 

After two songs had played out, he left as suddenly as he had come, with a promise to meet you later. You watched him dance with other maidens, who approached him when you were dancing together, entertaining every approaching lady like an excellent host.

You made your way to the side, hoping to get some liquor, or at least some fluid in your veins and not faint right there this moment. Emma came up beside you while you were having wine, and rubbed your back in a parental way. Her eyes communicated her understanding of how overwhelmed you felt at the instant. Her date and Peter soon came and kept you both company for the rest of the night. As duos danced and people got intoxicated, you had to call it a night on behalf of your sister, her incessant giggling make you worried for her inebriated self. 

You slipped her out before your father caught her and gave her a stern talking to and tucked her in her bed keeping a glass of water and some fresh fruits for her on the bedside wooden bench. You concluded retiring for the night yourself but only after assuring your father of your whereabouts and well beings. Before returning to the hall, you took off your wings and the halo, also opting to leave the mask behind as the fur tickled your skin. Your makeup hadn’t ruined in the heat of the hall, it was a miracle. You made your way to the Hall, hoping to find your father, assumingly drunk with all his entourage.

Two hallways before the decorated ballroom were you pinned to the wall, one hand of your attacker covering your parted lips while the other held your face delicately, with a lover’s touch. A split second was all it took for you to be immobilised by this man and another by your wavering form to recognise the cobalt blue eyes and blonde curls. When The King was certain you wouldn’t scream, his hand left your mouth slid upwards, mirroring his other hand, with thumbs in front of your ears and palms resting on your cheeks.

“Your Majesty?” You mumbled back, your voice somehow even lower, afraid for yourself and even more so terrified to offend him.

“Say, would you come for a while to my chambers, the view of the creek from my balcony is splendid.”

His choice of words gave you an option, but his eyes, almost hypnotically told you there was only one correct answer.

“You are the one, I can feel it.” He whispered lowly but your heightened senses gladly picked it up.

You meekly nodded, your inner self surprised at your body moving of its accord alongside him, as your mind started voiding of thoughts like reporting to your father, checking up on Emma. You felt like you were trapped in someone else’s form and fought with an invisible force to take over the reins of your own body.

You did not fail to notice the lack of guards outside the King’s chamber and how every entrance managed to open itself. The King wasn’t lying about the picturesque scene though, as you stood in the balcony, hair getting ruffled by the strong breeze that seemingly came from nowhere.

Your body stiffened as King Steve came uncharacteristically close to you and slid his hands around your middle, his nose nestled in your locks, inhaling deeply.

His lips descended your neck, laying feathery kisses on his path as you stood there, unable to even move your hands or turn around. This out of body sensation was broken when you felt intense pain on piercing of your skin where your head met your torso. You suddenly gained all wits and enough strength to flail your limbs around but all your might wasn’t enough to even stir the man from his task. Your throat couldn’t gather enough energy to scream, though you doubted anyone would come. You started getting light headed and only then did he stop, carrying you in his arms to his widespread four poster bed, mattress as soft as sponge and sheets as silky as butter. Too weak to fight him off, you harvested all your energy in staying conscious as your gaze danced around, trying to make sense of every object present but not awake enough to notice too many details. The wine you drank did not make it any better.

As you laid on the stranger’s bed, you felt his body sit beside you, holding your neck; leaning down, his lips meeting yours for the first time. You did not reciprocate, neither did you have the strength nor the will, while his tongue slipped inside your mouth, roaming around like a traveller in foreign land.

As the kiss drew on, you felt some energy sidle inside you, enough for your mind to function again but not ample enough to fight off the brawny thief who robbed you of your first kiss. King Steve broke off the kiss and connected your foreheads together, his indigo eyes turning black in want, leaving you a frightening and gasping mess.

He backed away, sitting more straighter now as his hand drew back from around your neck and slid along your stomach, nearing the most intimate part of your body, even though there were still layers of cloth present. His hands did not stop there, however, and made their way downwards only stopping at the hem of your gown and slipping inside.

You shrieked out suddenly, becoming aware of his intentions quite late and grasped his wrist that rested now on your knee. 

“Your Majesty, I……I can’t-”

“Do you wish to refuse your King?”

You looked down, caught in the dilemma of wanting your safety and offending him once again. Your virtue had to be preserved till marriage, your mother had taught you, but on the other hand, the King’s words were the law.

“Answer Me.” The King’s cold voice broke through your thoughts, not a shout but still scarier than a yell.“

Your Majesty, I’ve never engaged in s-” You started tearing up, lower lip wobbling and body shaking at the thought of the future. You did not see this ending beneficial in any scenario. If you lost your virtue, you would never get wed but if you refused the King and he felt insulted, your family and your connections would be in the ruins, he held that much power over you.

Cradling your face with his other hand, he began again, “You think I’m not already aware, pretty one?” The man who was reprimanding you only few moments ago upon not answering him, had a smile on his face this time: not assuring or comforting, but malicious and sinister to its very core. “I could smell your untainted scent from my room, before even descending the stairs.”

“Your e-eyes..” You gaped again as colours morphed in his eyes, red now swirling around in the pools of darkness, his words lost on you as you felt your fear rising due to the inhumane action.

“For an intellectual, bibliophilic girl, you sure are oblivious, sweetheart.” He scoffed, looking unimpressed at you, “Come on, prove to me you aren’t heedless like the rest, draw the conclusion." His eyes held yours, again altering into hues of different colours, seemingly mocking you now. 

You don’t know how the thought jumped into your head, maybe because the two holes on your neck stung suddenly or because the automatically opening doors entered your mind, the contemplation that his fangs appeared so realistic and authentic the more you stared at them paired with the blood on his collar, not just the fresh red stain of your plasma but also the burgundy stain present there, giving his lips the cherry red shade you admired hours ago on his arrival at the event.

“This is not a co-costume, no-” You inhaled a quick breath, “you are a vampire.” Your face paled in realisation while he smirked proudly, tapping your knee in a weird, twisted form of appreciation.

“Tremendous, my dear. But only half, you see. My mother was one, yes, but my father, he gave me an even better ability, he was an Incubus.” You shuddered as the words sunk in, your only worry being staying alive now, when your life was in the hands of this sex demon, having the greatest of powers and strength. Your mind did not spend any time mulling over the existence of supernatural beings, only dwelling on possible escapes now.

“That is why even your untouched body couldn’t help but react to my form and it is also the very reason, that I can read what goes on in your mind, all your memories, your hobbies, every book you’ve read, your precious sister, Emma isn’t it? So please, do not even think about fleeing if you don’t want your family to suffer.”

The threat loomed in the air, nasty sobs wracking your body as his thumb came to wipe the tears off. His hands started undoing the lace on the front of your bodice as you sniffled. Managing to quieten down just a bit, you begged, “Please don’t do this, I’ll have nowhere to go if my family found about me partaking in this unholy deed before marriage.” You had little hope about him seeing reason but there was optimism nonetheless. 

“Darling, do not fuss that I’ll leave you unhinged and deserted after finding pleasure in your body, you are to be mine now. Essentially, you already are.” His lips claimed yours again as the front of your dress slackened, bundling around your waist.

You pulled back, surprised at his promise, “You mean that?” He nodded, coming to kiss you again. You turned so that his lips met your neck, tongue licking the salt residue of tears there. “In what sense?”

“In every sense you could think of and more. I’ll give you everything, make you my queen, would you like that?” He mumbled in your neck, tongue now soothing the two punctured cavities residing there.

You could feel yourself crossing your legs involuntarily, trying to caress the abrupt yearning in your intimate part, your underclothes dousing with wetness somehow. Steve smirked in your neck, sitting upright and playing his trump card.

“I’ll marry you and we’ll rule together with the plenty of successors you’ll give me. Won’t that make your parents proud? Isn’t that what your parents taught you? Catch the King’s eye?” You meekly nodded, his charisma of an Incubus winning you over. “I’ll make your father The King’s Hand and send your mother the finest of jewels and gems, satins and silks.” He looked over at your submissive form, looking at him with the innocence of a toddler, swayed by his promises.

“I’ll let your sister have a grand wedding with the man she dears. All you have to do is surrender yourself to me and be my Queen, rule alongside me. So I ask, will you?” You cut him off, your lips pressing against his as you tried to mimic his earlier movements. He held your waist, surprised but pleasantly so, crushing the layers of the rolled top half of your dress underneath his hands. You had very little idea about what bedding someone meant but you had this primal urge to not have any skin of yours covered or untouched by him.

Steve shed his cape and threw every cloth on his torso away, almost as eager as you to get skin to skin contact. Your hands tangled in his hair as he lifted you up and sat you in his broad lap, not before sliding your dress all the way down. As he broke the kiss and took in your body, parts of you hidden under the smallclothes, he let out a growl that frightened yet excited you with another shiver down your spine. 

He made quick work of his bottoms, his cock standing and reaching his muscled chest almost and you gaped. Your sister, Emma had informed you of men’s parts being far much smaller than what you had just witnessed. His member stood erect and proud, glistening as he pumped it with his fist. His eyes drank in your surprise and trepidation, getting amused and turned on even more. 

You still laid stretched across the bed, legs straight ahead of you while your torso rested on your elbows, eyes wary of his every next movement.  He eyed your scantily clad body, gaze filled with lust and nothing more and climbed between your legs, one hand coming down on your waist while the other grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a possessive kiss, robbing you of your breath. Your mind was slowly registering the reality of it all, this was going to happen no matter what. You were going to sin by engaging in fornication. But is it really wrong if your benevolent king demands that of you?

His hand sliding from your face to your bosom distracted you from your chain of thoughts. He slid the cups of your garment revealing your nipples and took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his other pinched the abandoned one. You didn’t know if you should be more surprised at his actions or the rush of the feelings that ran through you.

He slowly released your nipple and trailed soft kisses down your stomach to your most intimate part yet, kissing it through the cloth there. His delicate touch was abruptly contrasted with him grabbing the fabric, tearing it into two and revealing you bare. 

You closed your legs out of instinct but his heavily muscled hand took them apart in a single push. He eyed you with a warning, to not obstruct him anyhow anymore.

“Let me taste that sweet nectar of yours, sweetheart. I really want to find out if it is as addictive as my senses picked it up, as sweet as the aura that surrounds you.”

And with that he dove into your pussy, his tongue roaming your wet cavern. Neither did you understand what he spoke of nor had you sister told you about the activity happening right now. But all you could do was focus on the astonishingly pleasant shivers running through you as you had an out of the body, more accurately an out of the world experience. You had no sense of the time that passed and how long you laid there clutching the silk sheets letting out mewls. But out of nowhere, something in you snapped and all your energy left you. 

As your blurry vision cleared and your eyes found his face, he licked his still glistening lips, his beard moist and wet but erotically so. He dove right into kiss again and you tasted your own sweet nectar for the first time ever. His hand roamed your body, grabbing your curves and caressing your soft flesh. 

One of his hands made its way down furthermore and spread your fluids along your folds, and then lined up himself along your hole. With a sudden push, you felt yourself being full like never before, and a sudden pain hit you as your face visibly flinched. Steve swallowed your grunts of pain with his kisses and started rubbing your bud above your linked bodies. 

The shudder that ran through you once again made you incapable of thinking, the ache slowly subsiding behind the pleasure you felt. When your moans filled the air, Steve kissed your collarbones and sucked leaving bruises there, and started thrusting again. As his movements became faster and consistent, and his callused hands rubbed you and pinched your intimate flesh, you ascended to another world. Each action of his introduced you to a new star in the wide galaxy. The same unknown descended upon you again as something snapped in your abdomen and you experienced pure bliss. 

“Going to make you the mother of my children, you will carry my seed and bring the Kingdom several heirs. This time I’ll succeed, you will be mine, my Queen in every sense.” His words made you clench around him and that was all it took for him to achieve ecstasy as well.

Your head lolled and your eyes met his sweating frame lying across the silk sheets as a sinister grin adorned his face again, “I need to fuck a successor into you tonight, you ready?”  

[nevertheless-moving]

Pop Star Wars AU: Waking

Drabble set in this au which I wrote way back a few weeks ago.

Back then, I had only recently decided to look up my tumblr password for a third attempt at being an appreciative fandom community member instead of just trying to think really hard at internet strangers, and maybe shout into the void a little. (But there’s like, several people here now??? How did you even find me on the internet? )

Anyway I have since learned how to spell Anakin’s name and insert links. Also that if you resize your window while typing directly into tumblr everything disappears.

Self Indulgent Crack Pop Star Wars Time Travel Fixit (star wars au no 3):

After several years of exile in the Jundland Wastes, Ben Kenobi had not quite finished mentally unpacking the decades of mistakes, grief, and failure that had led him to the desert. It was the work of a lifetime, and some days were harder than others. But after several forays in and out of alcoholism, spice addiction, and every other form of geographically-accessible self-destruction, he could at least say that some days were easier. 

The process was no doubt made more difficult by the abject solitude. Unlike the chaotic years that constituted the fall of the Republic, he had all too much time to think, and no one around to share his thoughts with. He closed his eyes in the dark of his hut, thoughts drifting between past and future. 

The past was as ugly and lovely as ever. The larger future didn’t look much better, but he could find some joy in the thought of tomorrow and fresh bantha milk when the herd roamed near. Owen was always much less begrudging of his presence when he came with an offering, and Beru would likely invite him to stay for noon meal where he would share in fresh cheese as Luke rambled about his plans to fix-up a junked speeder bike.

The thought of Luke’s happiness at the treat allowed him enough peace of mind to meditate more deeply.

He carefully broke off a piece of unfair-bitterness from his larger loving-grief. The bitterness he released into the force. The grief he turned over and soothed until its edges dissolved. He accepted it, now smoother if not smaller, laying it to rest alongside his hard-earned wisdom and unfinished poetry.

Tired, but fractionally lighter, Ben Kenobi drifted to sleep.

He opened his eyes to the first rays of daylight peeking in his temple chambers.

The room was intimately familiar. For a few years they were Ashoka’s, on the rare occasion she found herself temple-side and in want of privacy but not complete solitude. For a solid decade before her, the chambers were Anakin’s, though he was quick enough to accept the common room couch when Ashoka entered their life. And before that...they were his. That was his model rocket on the shelf, and his astronomical mobile hanging from the ceiling, and his robes scattered on the floor, though they hadn’t been arranged as such in this room since his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. He sat up. 

Glad he had put energy into meditation last night, he used the lingering clarity of mind to try and work through possible explanations. 

Vivid Dream? No a quick pinch to his inner elbow debunked that, as well as the fact that the morning taste in his mouth was more the minty tang of denti-cleaner, rather than the saltiness of dried meat which he had grown accustomed to.

Hallucinogenic mushroom flashback? Possible, though it still wouldn’t explain the detail of physical sensations he felt, running his hand from the temple-spun linens on his bed to the warm-carved wood of his bedside table. He stood and did a perfect forward flip in place. Shockingly his knees didn’t ache at impact, but a drug induced hallucination of this intensity would have some sort of impact on his equilibrium, and he felt perfectly balanced, at least physically.

Force vision seemed most likely. Sinking into cross-legged meditation, he gradually lowered his mental shields. There was no whisper of Vader or Palpatine anywhere near Hutt space at this time, so the risk of reaching out was both manageable and necessary. Rather than the pure energy he personally associated with intense visions, he felt gradients of light, echoing ripples of emotions, and the unique solidity of force-imbued stone walls.

Heart beginning to race as reality set in, Ben concluded that he was, indeed, in the Jedi temple on Courascant. Even if he had suffered a complete psychotic break, his force sense couldn’t lie with such crystal clear detail. Confused unreality mixed with images of the past and future, sure. But this was the temple. It just was. 

He couldn’t make sense of it. Even if he had somehow been found, drugged, and transported to the heart of the empire, the rooms as he sensed them didn’t exist anymore. The contents were lost or burnt, the stone walls destroyed and rebuilt into a wing of the Imperial Palace.

Obi-Wan sank deeper into the force and reached out further, searching for he answers. In general, the force felt light, the shroud of the darkside was a hazy irritation in the distance, not a smothering blanket. The manifold wounds in the force formed by senseless war and destruction were absent. Also gone were the tang of grief and loss that he had begun to associate with the temple’s signature even before- even before the purge.

The temple was also full to the brim with tens of thousands of lights in the living force. He reached out to them incredulously, nudging many just to feel a living, sentient response. The last time he remembered feeling so many Jedi all in the temple at the same time was...well, when he still lived in this room. The nearest living force sensitive presence was achingly familiar, though notably and unquestioningly living. He could feel the presence moving nearer and retreated, pulling himself fully back into his body.

The only explanation that fit was that he had suddenly, miraculously, inexplicably traveled back in time. 

He half ran to his closet, opening the door with a yank to reveal a full length mirror. A once-familiar, 25-year old padawan stared back with visible shock. Of course his knees didn’t hurt, this body hadn’t yet been broken and abused by knighthood, war, and Tatooine. His hands examined the smooth chin, the unwrinkled forehead, and even the terrible, terrible haircut.

Obi-wan startled at a knock at his door, freezing in place. 

“Padawan?” Came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice softly, “I don’t intend to pull you out of meditation prematurely, but is there a particular reason you were sprawling over the temple this morning? You startled me somewhat. To be perfectly honest, I think you might have alarmed a few people around the temple, I’ve already received messages from council telling me to reign in my padawan before he hurts himself.” 

Qui-Gon sounded more amused than reprimanding, and he paused, clearly waiting for an answer. 

Obi-Wan’s jaw locked up. What could he say? How could he even to begin to explain what had happened? He sank to floor, head pressed to the ground and tears silent streaming down his face. All he could do was offer to the force were words, the feelings could come later Thank you. Thank youThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU. 

For whatever reason, the force had granted him a second chance. Regardless if it was intended as punishment, gift, or inexplicable chance, he would build a better future than the one he left behind. 

“Padawan?” Qui-Gon knocked again, sounding concerned, “Are you alright? If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there.”

And all at once he had flipped back to not enough time to think and too many people needing his attention.

Obi-Wan managed to open his mouth to call out some meaningless assurance, intent on gaining more time to process the fantastical situation. Much to his surprise, what came out was a strangled, keening sob. Qui-Gon burst through the door. 

Obi-Wan realized, with a little embarrassment, that he was curled up practically into a ball on the floor, tears streaming in a shocking waste of water. It was probably not the most dignified, nor the most reassuring position for Qui-Gon to walk in on. 

Qui-Gon rushed to his side, pulling him up by the shoulders to frantically look him over. “What happened?” he demanded, “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong while you were meditating and you were trying to reach out for help?”

Obi-Wan smiled at the barrage of questions. He had almost forgotten that on the rare occasions when Qui-Gon’s perfect Jedi serenity broke, he became somewhat counterproductively intense. 

“I’m alright, Master,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a croaking, “MNNrlerR.” 

This predictably, only increased Qui-Gon’s concern.

To Obi-Wan’s deep consternation, he was dragged by Qui-Gon to the healer’s wing. He remained quiet during the examination, not wanting to risk whatever was compromising his ability to speak. It could be readjusting to his younger body, or a manifestation of the admittedly great emotional shock he was still experiancing. Or simple lack of practice- it had been several weeks since he had last heard the sound of his own voice, from a certain point of view.

After finding no physical cause for concern, Master Vyr asked Qui-Gon to wait outside.

“Padawan Kenobi?” The Tortugan healer asked gently. “Your Master seems quite insistent that something is wrong. Would you like to discuss what the problem seems to be?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and was relieved when his voice came out smooth and under his control, “I’m alight, Master. I apologize for disruption. I experienced a... particularly strong vision when I woke up this morning, and temporarily lost control over myself. I’m already feeling more stable. I believe I simply need to meditate on what I’ve seen. My master unfortunately came in while I was dealing with some of the emotional aftermath.

“I see,” Vyr responded. “Did you experience this vision before or after your expansive foray into the force? I understand a surprising swath of the temple felt your presence press against them this morning.”

“I reached out after,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My vision was...particularly dark. I felt the need to ground myself with the presence of other Jedi. I’ll make certain to apologize to anyone I may have startled.”

Eventually he was cleared with the strict instruction to stick with shallow meditation for the next few days as well as a strong recommendation to seek out Master Yoda, Sifo-Dryfas, or one of the other Master known to experience visions. 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked back to their quarters together in a peaceful quiet. It wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that Qui-Gon rounded on his padawan.

“What vision could possibly have left you in such distress?”

Obi-Wan walked to the kitchenette to make tea, stalling before answering. “You have always told me to stay focused on the present, Master”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, however this...vision seems to have altered you somehow. You are grieved by it.”

“Yes. But what I grieve may never come to pass.” 

It won’t come to pass. I might not know his every tool, but I do know Sideous’s biggest secret, and I WILL stop him.

“Will you not tell me what you saw?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding somewhat hurt.

Obi-Wan poured the hot water carefully, feeling torn. If he told Qui-Gon everything... would he believe him? Perhaps, eventually but...what would become of Anakin, still just a boy? And the moment he knew of Palpatine’s evil...he knew Qui-Gon. He would favor the direct approach, underestimating the sheer breadth of the trap the sith had laid (Obi-Wan himself lived through it and only began to understand long after it had closed).

“I saw...a great shadow fall over the republic.”

He sat at the table, relishing in the simple pleasure of pouring a cup for Qui-Gon and himself from a shared pot.

Qui-Gon cradled his mug in his hands. “I see. Nothing specific?”

“Your death. At the hands of a tool of darkness. You ran ahead...” Obi-Wan took a scorching sip to stop himself. “It was foolish. Unnecessary. And I was forced to fight alone without you.

Qui-Gon set the tea down to stroke his beard in thought. “Well. I have no great desire to die. While I make no promises, I will endeavor to avoid leaving you behind ‘unnecessarily.’”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, over sincere. 

They drank in peaceful silence. It was interrupted by a shrill noise from Qui-Gon’s comm.

“I’ve just received a personal request from the Chancellor to immediately assist in negotiations with a Trade Federation blockade around Naboo. Are you feeling up to it?”

“You know, I think I am”

[alonfic]

second nature

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x reader genre: college + bff to lovers au | fluff, pining pining pining wc: 4,767 description: love is complicated; it tends to bloom in desire, in impulse. sometimes you just need to stop the overthinking and just do. in other words, you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend and decide to take matters into your own hands. author’s note: completely self-indulgent. i just wanted a scene where mc jumps into kuroo’s arms and kisses him after a win. sue me.

People do stupid things when they’re in love. You don’t know who said it, if this is some universal conclusion, or maybe Hercules’s Megara is a love genius who you should take notes from. Then again, she did twice, and was saved by her destined lover the second time around. You aren’t all that sure this is a fate prescribed to you by the stars nor is it one that you want for yourself, but it makes you wonder if your love life would be easier if it could have that Disney-esque theatrics just for a happy ending.

Then again, you don’t think Disney has any love stories about best friends turning into lovers, just strangers to lovers. But how do you fall in love with someone you haven’t spent years together cultivating memories with? How do you not look back and smile at the stories of chasing fireflies in the summertime or running from the ocean’s kiss because it’s just a tad too cold even in the late spring? Could it be possible to imagine a love built out of the blue?

Perhaps that part of unexpectedness could be the suspect. Being around him is comfortable; easy as breathing. He’s always been there, always a faint image in the back of your mind as you walk down memory lane, and still there as you walk down this strange path of adulthood. He’s never one to push too hard or let you fall without reaching a hand out to hold you steady.

In truth, you don’t think about loving your best friend. At least you try not to at first. It isn’t something you’re supposed to do or anything that could proceed painlessly, and you’re no masochist. Maybe you are. Wouldn’t you have extracted yourself from the situation sooner if you weren’t?

Then again, you didn’t choose to love him one morning, it just happened.

/

You consider ignoring Kuroo when it happens. Or if there’s any chance of going back.

It isn’t anything against him because you obviously wouldn’t feel the way that you do if you considered him a shitty person. But that’s the problem. Well, not the problem, more like the reason. The heart of your pining has always been a consistent figure. A loving one that has always had your back even when you both were kids; him the notoriously shy boy who clung to his father’s leg when you and your mother first stopped by, and you the painfully hard-headed one who lacked control when you came bounding up to him with the intent of friendship.

Funny how things seem to take on a reverse effect as he approaches you in the same confidence. His smile unaltered by the slight changes in you, how you tense up ever-so-slightly and squeak affirmations when he mentions going out later that night as a treat for surviving midterms. It shouldn’t mean anything more, really, these are normal interactions for you both. The small celebrations are your favorite things to do, so you hope it doesn’t feel weird when you say yes and he looks at you like he’s over the moon kind of happy.

You don’t say a word when his hand is on the small of your back in the slightly crowded ramen shop. It’s been a longtime favorite of your and his, and surviving the quarter is a celebration in and of itself. Everything is normal. These things, like guiding you to a table, are normal. Your hyperfixations on them are hardly normal though.

Was he always this touchy? Of course, you ponder this. It’s your brain wondering and hoping to figure out what the motivations of these actions are even if he’s done them before. He’s always been keen on physical touch with you. Ever the one to wrap an arm around your shoulders while you two walk around shopping centers or the park to keep potential intruders away and to keep you from getting swept up in the crowds. Sometimes holding your hand when things get tense and he wants you to know he’s there. They’re normal for him by all accounts, and there hasn’t been a time where any of that has felt out of place, at least until now. And it isn’t because of him, it’s you.

If you had an allowance to dream and believe in your idealistic side, this would be a new beginning and his way of easing you into intimate gestures. You don’t though. Your realistic side won’t let you. He just doesn’t make it very easy on you as he sits in front of you under very grainy incandescent lighting—the very non-ideal kind to consider one’s love for somebody—and still manages to get you feel the same things you had when you awoke to him cooking breakfast in your kitchen after a late night study session. The very stupid morning that brought you to this conclusion.

When he says your name, you realize the server is there. You’re naturally a little embarrassed because you haven’t even had a chance to glance at the menu, still a little more spaced out than usual, though it shouldn’t be that big of a problem. You already know what you want, and so does Kuroo. 

He jumps in and asks if you want your usual choice, to which you simply nod so he can tell the server who leaves just as quickly as they had come. Kuroo looks like he wants to say something, probably ask about what’s going on with you, but instead something else catches his eye.

He leans over the table and his fingertips find some stray locks of yours dangerously trying to kiss the corner of your lip. His fingertips graze your cheek rather slowly. Painfully slow, even. It doesn’t help the sweat on your palms or the pounding of your chest. Hell, your heart feels like it might fall out if he continues going at such a snail’s pace, but eventually he gets the strands behind your ear.

He smiles at you again, and this time you know it’s all over.

There is no going back.

/

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

You almost deny it altogether, almost. But this is Kuroo. You know better than to try and lie to the boy you’ve known since middle school, the same boy who knows when something’s wrong before you even have a chance to register that something’s wrong. It sometimes makes you want to curse at him and wish this whole thing would just come to a halt instead of continuing on this weird precipice of change. But you stop yourself and step aside so he can enter your apartment, making his way through the long hallway and turning right to take a perch on the barstool at your kitchen isle.

He’s right anyway. It’s been days since you realized your feelings and even more since you two went out to get ramen together. But you’d be damned to admit the truth.

“Been busy.” You settle on this because it’s a safe answer, at least relatively so, though he hardly looks even the slightest bit convinced. The fact that you lean on the opposite side of the granite countertop is enough to solidify his doubt, but you decide to play the fool anyway. “What?”

“Are you alright? Have I done something to upset you?” Kuroo asks this genuinely, and you can tell most definitively by the slight crease in his brow and the small line his lips have become. It isn’t a frown by any means, it’s his pensive expression. He must be trying to think back on anything he’s either said or done in the past couple of weeks, but you know he wouldn’t be able to guess it.

Not that “it” is all that major. How do you even describe the sensation of falling in love with your best friend? How do you even dare face them after you’ve done it? And where do you even go from there when it’s happened? These are the things you’ve mulled over; they’re also the things that have stopped you from immediately treating your friendship with Kuroo like business as usual. You don’t think there’s any going back once you say something. No matter the times you’ve imagined what could happen or what it would be like to cross that bridge, a bit of reality grounds you from all impulsive acts.

Of course, you would love to just kiss him and run your hands through his beautifully soft sable hair. You wouldn’t hesitate to finally tell him your feelings if you didn’t think there was anything to lose or if you weren’t in the right state of mind, at least there’s the cushion of not caring and simple selfishness in all of that. It takes a lot to shake it all out of your head, at least to just try to, as he watches you in that unnervingly analytical way.

“Are you sure I haven’t done anything?” You can tell he’s trying to probe now, perhaps hoping for an opening to atone for any misgiving he might’ve done without realizing. His voice is soft, comforting. “If I did, I really am sorry.”

You shake your head again, this time for him and his question. You’re starting to feel a little bad for keeping this from him. “You haven’t done anything, I promise. I’ve just been preoccupied with some things. It’s getting better, so really, no need to worry.”

You hope the half-truths are enough to keep his interrogative questions and inquisitorial stare at bay. At least enough to change the subject, he’s the one who called about coming here, after all.

“If you’re sure?” He tries once more, just to give you an out. It isn’t like you to keep anything from him, and he knows this, but you can’t help but want to keep this one thing under lock-and-key. At least for now, or forever.

You nod. “What’s up anyway?”

“Well, I’ve been missing my best friend like crazy since someone’s been ghosting me for the past two weeks.”

The emphasis on ‘someone’ makes you snort, just a little and only for a moment because he shoots you a playful glare. You hold your hands up in surrender in hopes of spurring the conversation forward. Just because you wanted to avoid him to keep the truth under wraps doesn’t mean you haven’t missed the cheeky bastard.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, with a faint smile. “Has it been that hard without me?”

“The hardest! Kenma’s sick of me, you know. Him, I’m used to wanting to keep me away. But you? That’s a different playing field.” It’s all in a playful jest, of course, and whatever the case may be for you, you know that Kuroo doesn’t mind. He knows it would be for a good reason, even if you don’t think this is all that good of a reason to try and push him away. It’s a hard thing to do when it’s clear that he has no intentions of being set aside, and how can you, given the history here?

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, o’dramatic one?” Of course, you’ll play it off, just to see the toothy grin on his lips, and watch the light dance in the hickory of his eyes as he considers his next quip. You wonder if he’ll have you do something stupid just to make up for the sudden separation, although you’re grateful that he’s a more benevolent schemer where you’re concerned. You expect him to charge you a free coffee or something.

“Come to my game on Saturday, please,” Kuroo coughs the last word, as if it might be painful for him to say, or maybe he’s trying to play off sounding forceful, which has never been his forte.

You can’t help but smile albeit confused at the sudden news when it feels like it’s been ages since his last high school game. “A game? With who?”

“It’s just a reunion game against Karasuno, since it’s a rare occasion where we all happen to be free at the same time, and you know us. We’re always hankering for another Battle at the Garbage Dump.”

Before you can say anything, he adds, “If you love me, you’ll come!”

You probably miss the way he looks at you a little more longingly than he once did, as if there’s something he means in these cheeky words. They should mean nothing more than provocations, a mild itch of guilt tripping, but only in good nature. It couldn’t possibly mean anything in the way that you’re hoping. No, not at all.

You know he only means it all in a lighthearted way, but you can’t deny the way your heart seems to rumble with a very distinct sound of early springtime thunder and you feel the back of your throat go dry. Of course, you can’t deny this truth, not even when it’s disguised like this. And anyway, who would you be if you missed out on one of his games?

Of course, you’ll go. 

/

When Kozume calls you over, you already know it’s a mistake to oblige.

The moment you get there, he’s playing a game though he pays a little more attention to you when he sees how much you tense up at the sound of Kuroo’s name. It’s enough for the conversation to completely focus on the former Nekoma captain, and you’re almost certain you want to go home already. If anything, you might be able to cite that you had some homework you need to sort out before the big game.

“You shouldn’t keep lying to yourself. Plus, I know you finished all your homework so you wouldn’t be distracted for the game,” Kozume points out, shooting you a brief pointed look. “You’ve been avoiding me too, you know.” 

And this is why: visiting Kozume means speculations, and speculations means hopes, and those mean disappointments because reality is just that cruel. You tell him so in your apology, even when he pointedly ignores the question and instead asks you one.

“When do you think you’ll tell him?”

You look at him incredulously. “Why would I do that?”

The sheer idea is preposterous; confessing to Kuroo might invite trouble for the two of you and the state of your friendship. Sure, you tried ignoring him and seeing if that could help, but that was a bust. Telling him would probably be even worse. Probably the worst thing you could do in this situation. Is it even possible to be okay after confessing to your best friend?

“You’re both idiots who deserve to be together. Why else would I ask?”

He isn’t even looking at you as he says any of this, instead focusing his attention on the characters in his game. His own little fantasy. A part of you is envious of the escapism, wishing for a bit of that for yourself at the moment. At least you can forge a love story from camaraderie there, and in a game world like that, it’s acceptable. Loving your best friend in the modern reality? Not so much.

You’re a little confused at Kozume’s wording. What was he trying to say? Kuroo liked you back? The thought makes you shake your head.

“Easier for you to say,” you roll your eyes at him, certain he hasn’t seen it, but he clicks his tongue at you anyway.

“If you did something, or let yourself do something, life would be so much easier for the both of you.”

“You say this with the assumption that he feels something too,” you point out, still in disbelief. After all, why would Kuroo love you back as more than a friend?

“Why do you even love him anyway?”

You can’t help but reply so nonchalantly when it’s the first thing that comes to mind. “Why not?”

There are many answers to that question, probably more than you care to admit, let alone to Kozume. Even without meeting his eyes or saying a word about any of it, he seems to know already. It’s unnerving. Have you always been this easy to read? Does Kuroo know too?

“Why don’t you just tell him?”

“It’d make things too complicated.”

In other words: it’s easier to tell the truth when you’re not speaking to Kuroo about the whole thing. Hell, it’s easier to address it when it isn’t directly to him. It happened, and obviously there’s no way to strip the power from it now.

“Is that what’s really stopping you?”

You take a moment to consider this, and maybe the large part is the fear of consequence, if there will be one, what it will be, that sort of thing.

“Yeah…”

“Then stop thinking and just do something about it. I’ve never known you to take things lying down. Talk to him after the game or something.”

You don’t say anything, but you consider it.

/

The day of the game is supposed to be simple. It isn’t like it’s supposed to bloom into anything, and yet you find yourself thrumming with excitement when Kuroo easily finds you in the crowd before he’s set to enter the gym.

You don’t care to admit how much you enjoy this or the sight of seeing him in that vibrant shade of red. The same way you’ve seen him in countless games. It stirs something in your chest as you’re reminded of those days, like this revelation of your feelings might have bloomed sooner than you realized.

“Come find me after the game,” Kuroo tells you with that beautifully toothy grin of his, and you find that you can hardly breathe. “I have something to tell you when I win.”

When did he get so damn good looking? You want to wonder, though that would only be one of many ponderings. You don’t know what his words mean, or why the implication makes your heart react the way it does, but you hope against your own ideals just to remain in reality. At least you try to.

It’s hard once the game begins.

/

Watching him play feels like falling in love again.

You don’t know what it is in the way Kuroo carries himself or how he seems to dance across the court with a hitch in any of his movements, but it’s addictive to watch. How easily he remains himself even on the court. The very cheeky grin flashes at his opponents, particularly Tsukishima, who looks more and more fired up as they contain their rally. They don’t look much different than when they first played against one another in high school, though they all seem to carry a newfound sense of wisdom in this game they’ve been destined to play time and time again.

Each rally feels like it goes on for longer than the last, as if everything will be gone in a single drop, and perhaps it’s true to say that this mirrors that of love. How you may try as you might to keep the secret of loving away from reality, but it all comes crashing down eventually. It feels that way when you see the final round reach a neck and neck standstill. Neither side wants the ball to drop, to allot victory to their opponent, of course.

It’s Kuroo’s determination that stands out to you. The way he seems to cheer his team on even without words as he tries his best to keep the orange, green, and white ball in play. He’s never been one to give up no matter the circumstances. He’s always found a way to move things in his favor, and he’s never once wavered, even in the beginning of his time with volleyball, he’s always tried, even with losses under his belt.

It’s strangely beautiful to bear witness to this play once more. You don’t know what it is when he looks back at you before his notoriously accurate block with a small, yet triumphant smile, like he knows this’ll win the game, or even so, bring them closer to it, but it rouses something even stranger in your chest as you cheer alongside everyone else in celebration of the first point of two needed to finally win the game. This is by no means a big game like the Inter-high or anything, but it feels that way. Maybe that’s why everything seems to stand out to you. It feels like something big might happen.

Simple as this game might be, it feels like everything when they reach the end of the rally.

They win, and you rise from your seat without a second thought. 

/

You don’t think about what you’re doing.

Your limbs seem to move on their own accord as the rest of the team does a final bow to the audience. You don’t bother stopping to wonder if Kuroo’s searching the crowd for you as you make your way down the stairs, or what the little frown on his face means when his gaze lingers on the spot right behind the banner as soon as you reach the hallway across from the court. Your spot.

No, you don’t stop to think about it.

You don’t even stop moving as you call his name or as you see the light come back to his beautiful hickory eyes. You don’t stop to consider what that might mean either.

Instead you run to him at full speed without bumping into anyone, truly a miracle in and of itself, and instead of stopping right before him with your feet planted firmly on the ground like any other person, you choose to jump. You don’t know why. You don’t think about why either. You just believe that he won’t drop you because he’s never given you a reason to believe otherwise. In fact, you absolutely trust him to catch you now more than ever, and to no one’s surprise, he does.

There are so many things you want to do—reasonable things that any normal best friend supporting their best friend would do. You want to say congratulations. You want to just hug him and jump down because you want to believe that this will be like any other hug you’ve shared with this man you’ve known for years. And maybe it could’ve been that simple if you had just stopped to consider what your actions would mean to him, you, and everyone else. But you don’t bother with the frivolities, you don’t want to yet.

Because when you really look at Kuroo, you catch sight of something beautiful. A sight all too familiar to you and the years of memories you’ve shared together. It’s him in his most purest form; little drops of sweat falling at the sides of his face, an elated grin in all its toothy glory, and the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes becoming more and more prominent. And yet, there’s something a little too new in the way that he looks back at you, the way his gaze lingers on your lips and only snaps back up to your eyes when you say his name. 

Your grip around his shoulders tightens and his lips fall a little closer together like he might say something, but you don’t give him a chance. It’s hard when you find yourself on a roll of impulses, like you’re untouchable from consequence.

Maybe you’ve watched too many romance movies, or maybe read too many stories where the best friends finally get together after years of pining and being called idiots by everyone around them. You know it’s all too silly, and you and Kuroo have spent evenings mocking the theatrics of boombox accompanied confessions and singing over the loudspeakers with the marching band as the main male lead’s instrumental track. They’re endearing in the moment, but so painfully unreal, you almost wish this world was entirely fantasy for just a taste of what could be with Kuroo. That’s the true villain, maybe. You can’t stop yourself now.

Everything everyone has ever speculated about you two flies over your head, and for once in a great while, you stop caring enough to just do what you’ve always wanted to do, to finally actualize the fantasies you’ve played out over and over in your head.

Fuck it, you decide. If there’s any time to do this, it’s now. The extra shit can wait.

So, before any words, you kiss him.

You take note of the way he responds so gently to the initiation. It’s a tentative pressure, as if he’s testing the waters to see what you can handle before you pull away. But you don’t. You remain, and maybe part of that has to do with the adrenaline coursing through your veins or maybe it’s the part of you that seeks this wish fulfillment and wants to bask in it before reality sinks it.

The whole thing is indescribable. Of course, it is. All of your fantasies have never gotten you as far as the real deal. You wouldn’t have guessed just how close to peppermint he would taste, or that there would be a slight hint of honeyed lemons in the aftertaste. Like the treat promises, you feel invigorated, rejuvenated, and maybe even worst of all, hungry for a little more.

This is why you readjust your grip around his shoulders as you attempt to deepen the kiss. In response, his grip on your thighs tighten, as if he might be afraid you’ll disappear. And to your surprise, he kisses you back with just as much fervor, like it might be the last time.

You don’t remember what draws you apart, whether it’s one of his teammates jeering at you two or if it’s your respective needs to breathe, but you’re inclined to etch this new sight of him to memory. The way his chest heaves, his pupils dilated, and his lips all pink and swollen. It’s new and beautiful, and you wonder if it’ll happen again.

And then it hits you.

What you’ve done. Your head spins just a little.

“I’ve fucked us up, haven’t I?” Your words are no louder than a whisper, but it feels like it’s only you two right now. Nothing else to cut into this moment, though you almost sort of wish for an opportunity to sink into the ground because what the fuck did you just do?

All you can do is try to shake yourself away from him, back down to the ground, back to reality.

Kuroo keeps you in place and takes the chance to really look at you. His eyes scan your face for a trace of truth, not that this would be a hard feat anyway. You’ve never been good at hiding anything from him, not when you were kids, and most certainly not now. You wonder if he can read, “I’m totally and utterly in love with you” from your eyes or if it somehow materialized across your forehead like Kozume and Nobuyuki have always teased you.

“That’s not entirely fair,” he says, still faint with his usual teasing.

“Huh?” Your eyebrows knit together, and your lips seem to pull into an involuntary frown.

“That implies that you were the only one who compromised our friendship…” he pauses for a second as his bottom lip trembles and he gives an inaudible swallow, “right?”

“What are you getting at?” Simply the implication is enough to bring lightning to your skin, as if to resuscitate you back to a more serene state. Your heart can’t seem to handle this overload, however. You wonder if he can hear it.

“I think you know what I’m getting at...”

His cheeks have gone pinker than the cherry blossoms in spring. Of course, it should’ve been enough to confirm your suspicions. You could’ve left it at that, but for your sake, for your very own heart, you tell him what you need.

“Say it.”

One more look at you and it’s enough for him. Somehow you know that without being told.

“I love you.”

Your heart trembles, even louder now, like a thunderstorm. That strange calmness remains. The kind only he can elicit in you.

Kuroo looks at you in wait, in wonder, as if your answer wasn’t as clear as day already. You laugh a little and the corners of his lips turn upward.

“I love you too.”

He lets you drop down, of course, but only after another kiss.

You hold his hand and walk through the double doors you entered through.

This time together.