#yeah he's definitely my son because i hit that hard back when

[thegreatwicked]

Memories of Chocolate Laced Kisses

It's finally done! And before I overthink it and do another ten edits here it is! The night Obi-Wan and Cressida's son was conceived! This was really hard to get through and it was a struggle to keep a specific tone I set, so I hope you all like it!

Memories of Chocolate Laced Kisses

She had always been particularly gifted in the area of evasion, her years as a sentinel no doubt took what was already a natural talent and sharpened that skill into perfection. With our meeting finished, Cressida, once more, had slipped away, disappearing like a vapor and I found myself standing alone in the practice room. This place had served as a neutral ground for our discussion regarding Solan, it was a location I hadn't frequented in quite some time. Until now, I had little reason to set foot in such a place, I wasn’t a teacher, not like the other masters who possessed the innate ability to connect with small children, it was never something I was particularly good at. However, being back in this room, waves of nostalgia washed over me in my solitude, bringing back a wealth of memories of my own youth. 

This very room had been where I once stood as a youngling, learning to harness the Force and master my emotions, just like we all did, some faster than others. Despite the years and countless Jedi who had passed through these doors, the place remained virtually unchanged, it even smelled the same. How that was possible I wasn’t quite certain but the sense of familiarity was both comforting and bittersweet. 

Some things never change, and some things must. I was falling into the latter category, I must change.

In contrast to my distant past, the room now felt smaller, almost diminutive whereas once it seemed to loom so large it was difficult to comprehend. I couldn't help but imagine how Solan might have looked donned in the traditional Jedi robes that his mother and I once wore. How he might have looked standing in this room surrounded by his clan, other force-sensitive children like himself, all learning, all a bit afraid. The thought brought a warm smile to my lips.

Getting to know Solan wasn’t going to be without its challenges, it was already becoming evident that he inherited traits from both his mother and me, from what little I had seen. The quick wit, sharp remarks he got from me, and an unwavering determination and calculable observation were among the qualities that were imparted to him from his mother, together they defined him. A blend of the two of us, it was amazing when I thought of it. I had never given much thought to children, certainly never of having any of my own, yet here I was, a father to a young Jedi in training. The notion of seeing Solan as we once were, in robes that may have been a little too large, wearing a training helmet, and wielding a training saber was one that warmed me inside. However, this particular memory was but a fiction—a scenario of what could have been but never was, at least not how I imagined it. In truth, Solan had discovered his connection to the Force through clandestine training sessions with his mother, in dangerous territory, hidden from my knowledge, and my protection.

My smile waned, and I found myself weighed down once more by the reality of my new life, my world grew heavy again feeling as though it were forcing me down, I sat myself on the floor, lost in contemplation. My thoughts swirled around the complexities of my life and how it had all commenced. It hadn't started in this room, but rather in the very quarters I inhabited whenever I was in the temple—my late master Qui-Gon's quarters. I closed my eyes, allowing my mind to drift back through the sands of time. The memories flowed in reverse, like a river running backward. 

Back...

Back...

Back...

Until I arrived at the precise moment I wished to revisit, a memory I had not permitted myself to visit, one that now pained and confused me—the night when Cressida and I had passionately shared together, the night Solan had been conceived.

With my mind's eye now open, I stood in Qui-Gon's old room, gazing upon the specter of my former self. I was a young, newly anointed Jedi Knight, weighed down by the immense responsibilities of the galaxy, struggling to bear that burden alone. 

And I was very alone. 

The room seemed to hold echoes of that fateful night, and I couldn't help but wonder how different our lives might have been had we chosen a different path, but as I watched the dance of the ghosts of the past play out before my eyes, I found myself inexplicably grateful that my path had been set as it was and that it now intertwined with Cressida.

~~~

“What will happen to me?" 

"You will be a Jedi, I promise," 

When the pyre had burned to nothing and only the ashes of a great Jedi master remained, Obi-wan retired to his fallen Master's quarters for one last night. The council had been kind in letting him remain where his master once called home, a small respite before he had to move on. He sat uncertain of how to proceed, only knowing that he had to. In a few days' time, he would begin training Anakin as his own Padawan. The enormity of the task weighed heavily on his shoulders, physically pulling him down, yet somehow he managed to maintain his composure. After everything that had happened, there was a blissful numbness that settled over him.

~~~

Sunset colored the room with warm shades in an attempt to breathe some life into the small space, which felt more like a tomb as the days had gone by. The whole room seemed dead like a spell, cold and lifeless had been cast upon it, trapping its inhabitant in stasis. Beyond the walls, life continued within the Jedi Order. Within the modest quarters that had been Qui-Gon Jinn's, the final rays of sunlight withdrew from the floor, plunging the room into twilight. 

Master Qui-Gon’s pyre had drawn hundreds to the temple grounds and as he watched his master’s final journey into the unknown, he felt lost in a sea of faces. He felt as though he were watching it all happen through someone else’s eyes. A spectator to a day he had never wanted to see. Like no one saw him; no one except for the boy who was as alone as he was. 

Anakin.

He’d spent the last few days in the stillness of Master Qui-Gon’s empty quarters, alone. He just needed a bit of time to deal with his grief. To somehow find himself because as soon as he left this room, he would be Obi-wan Kenobi Jedi Knight and Master to the Chosen One. The thought alone was terrifying. 

"Master..." The word was a whisper, a ghostly echo of conversations past. 

Even though the seat across from him at the table he sat at was empty, it was hard to believe Qui-Gon was truly gone. Harder still to fathom that he was about to step into the role of a Master and train Anakin Skywalker—the Chosen One. How could he teach another when his own heart was adrift in sorrow?

He just needed a little more time. He needed to wake up. But more than that he needed to find the willpower to stop sitting here, at the same table he and Qui-Gon used to share meals with and had countless conversations. Because no one sat across from him anymore.

He just stared at the two meals that had long since gone cold as if the presence of two portions of uneaten food would somehow change things, but despite not eating for days he felt no hunger or thirst. 

Would it be this way forever? 

He knew realistically the answer was ‘no.’ That he would find a way to pull himself up, that he would rise to the occasion and make his master proud and fulfill his dying wish. He would make Anakin a Jedi, it was just hard knowing that this time he would do it alone. Draped in Qui-Gon's robe, its oversized embrace offered a comforting haven, even though the hem sometimes skimmed the floor, causing a stumble now and then. In spite of its impractical size, the robe carried memories of his former master, making it too precious for Obi-Wan to remove.

Time was purposeless and held no sway over him, sat somewhere between a meditative state and consciousness, he lingered. The mechanical hiss of the doors saw no acknowledgement, nor did the soft light that flooded into the room or the hushed footsteps that stopped behind him. It wasn’t until he felt he was being stared at out of his peripheral vision that he turned for the first time in hours to see who it was that interrupted his solace, and it wasn't a face he expected. 

Cressida Vox. 

He hadn’t seen her in two years and the passage of time was apparent as it took his shock a few moments to catch up. Regardless of the flow of those two years and all that had changed, her eyes were still the same. Overcast and gray, like a peaceful day with clouds and gentle rain, bringing a sense of tranquility. She sat on her knees next to him saying nothing but the concern on her face communicating everything, reaching in a way words failed. 

"Cress…" 

As if awakening from a dream, his voice barely rising above a whisper, as if he feared he wasn’t really seeing what he was seeing.

"Hello, Obi-Wan," 

Though he couldn't find the words to respond, a sense of reassurance washed over him at the sight of her well-being. She offered him a muted smile and took his cold hand in hers, gently prying it from his own clasped grip. Taking immediate note of the indentations on his skin left by his own nails, something Obi-Wan hadn't realized until her fingers traced over the angry little lines, she reassured him with a squeeze, her thumb brushing lightly across his knuckles.

It was heart-wrenching to see those pools of blue that had once sparkled with the promise of adventure, camaraderie and compassion, now dulled, lost in the shadows that seemed to cling to the corners of the room.

“I know.” 

That was all she said.

His voice quivered with each attempt to speak, and the sorrow that had been accumulating over the past few days surged forward, causing him to slump forward in sheer exhaustion, unable to hold back any longer. She wrapped him in her arms, cradling his head as he shook with grief, a sorrow she was unfortunately too familiar with. She wished so much that he didn't have to share this pain with her now, she’d have given anything to take it from him, but not even in the expanse of the cosmic Force, did such a power exist. Her fingers ran through the short hair at the back of his neck as his hot tears met her skin, and Obi-Wan wept.

The friendships between Padawans were something special in Jedi life, enduring across decades and the vastness of the galaxy. These connections often felt like the Padawans had spent everyday together, even if that wasn't the case. In the case of Obi-Wan and Cressida, their meetings were infrequent, but each one left a profound impact.

Without the strong friendship between their Masters, Obi-Wan and Cressida might never have crossed paths. This realization weighed heavily on Obi-Wan as he held onto Cressida tightly, almost painfully so. She didn't dare move, struck by the jarring sight of Obi-Wan in such a vulnerable state. Known for his confident and warm smile, always ready with a clever remark, seeing him falling apart felt fragile. Through the worst of things, he had always stayed positive. The despair coming from him was unbearable, but she felt uniquely qualified to offer solace.

Two years ago, the tables had turned, and she was the one drowning in tears after her master's brutal death. Back then, Obi-Wan had been her comforting presence, dispelling the frigid void surrounding her. His hands firmly held hers, extending a lifeline, while his arms embraced her as she unraveled.

Now, seated side by side, they shared a silent moment. The echoes of his subdued lament gradually faded away. The intense sobs that had overtaken him earlier subsided, reduced to a mere tremor with each exhale. His breathing settled into a rhythmic cadence, growing more measured with each inhalation and exhalation.

When he finally looked up, his eyes still held a hint of redness, stained by lingering sadness. Yet, within the weariness of his gaze, a faint glimmer of Obi-Wan Kenobi emerged. A subtle nod followed—an unspoken assurance that he wasn't okay, but he would be alright. He was on the path to recovery. Despite the brokenness of his smile, there was a visible effort to reclaim himself, one piece at a time, starting with that smile. While the corners of his mouth didn't entirely turn upwards, the initial attempt proved somewhat successful. It marked a gradual return of the Obi-Wan she knew, a testament to his resilience and the slow resurgence of his inner strength.

"Your hair is longer," he remarked, his voice carrying a soft, tired undertone, yet a warmth returning to his words.

She tilted her head, looking for the long braid she used to tug on incessantly. "And you're missing a braid," A subdued burst of laughter escaped him. "How will I grab your attention now?"

Their laughter, though tinged with a sense of forced lightness, echoed in the room. Obi-Wan chuckled, a newfound appreciation for their shared history of pranks, and shrugged. "I suppose we'll have to resort to communicating like responsible adults." Her raised eyebrow conveyed skepticism.

"Are we even capable of that?" she questioned, her doubt evident. He responded with a nonchalant shrug.

"I believe we can manage," he asserted. Obi-Wan leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, and whispered, "Welcome home." The dynamic in the room shifted as the sadness retreated to the shadows; with Cressida's presence, it seemed to stand no chance. Laughter, less forced, infused the air, carrying a hint of relief at their reunion.

~~~

"The refectory tells me that you request plates of food daily– two of them, and consistently, they remain untouched," Obi-Wan avoided her gaze, providing no explanation. "You know he wouldn't want this."

"I'd give anything to have one more meal with him, maybe somehow if I could, then I'd be more prepared for what comes next. I suppose that's why I keep calling for two plates. I know he's gone, but—" He trailed off, then like a burst damn, blurted it out. “How can I do this? How can I train a padawan? What if I fail him? What I-”

His gaze fell on the lightsaber and the untouched food. Before he could retreat into his thoughts, Cressida's hand squeezing pulled him back.

“You will be what Anakin needs, see the way clear, Obi-Wan. Trust in the Force, and you can’t fail.”

"Sometimes, it feels like a nightmare I can't wake from, Cress. Other times, it's like I'm seeing it happen to someone else." Observing Cressida's subtle nod, the one she did without meaning to. This prompted a question he had never asked but often wondered about, "How did you do it? How did you recover from this?"

With a deep and introspective breath, she responded in a tone reminiscent of a confession, her gaze fixated on Qui-Gon’s lightsaber. "I don’t suppose I ever did," she admitted. 

His expression mirrored diminished hope, as if he were anticipating some morsel of wisdom.

“Does it ever get any easier?”

She gave a hesitant shrug, her response filled with uncertainty, as if the question had caught her off guard, or maybe she hadn't fully sorted through her thoughts. 

"Yes. And no." Her words carried an ambivalent tone. "Some days, it feels like I can still hear his voice. Other days, I can't even remember what it sounded like. I don’t think there is recovery, only acceptance. It won't ever fade, but with time, it gets a bit easier to bear. Living makes it harder to dwell on the ones we've lost." Her gaze shifted to the empty space where Qui-Gon used to sit. "The memory always lingers; no one truly vanishes."

Obi-Wan remained silent, his eyes fixed on the food in front of him, as if caught between the urge to eat and an inner struggle. She reached for one of the plates, pulling it closer. When he didn't respond, she offered a piece of now-cold bread, extending it toward him. However, he showed no interest in taking it. His focus barely shifted, even when Cressida playfully joked about the bread not being poisoned and lightly poked him in the face with it. She had hoped for a laugh or a smile, but the best he managed was a less melancholic frown and furrowed brow.

"If you want to keep pace with a padawan, you'll need your strength," 

The reference to Anakin appeared to cut through Obi-Wan's preoccupation. Anakin, much like Obi-Wan, grappled with the difficulties of being alone. The burden of his commitment to both Qui-Gon and Anakin pressed heavily on him. "Do it for me." Her smile carried a blend of gentle pleading, and it appeared to touch him at last. With the slightest of smiles, he took the bread.

"Thank you," he whispered, then took a disinterested bite. 

At first, he chewed slowly, almost as if struggling with himself to eat. However, as the act of chewing continued, his body seemed to awaken from its stupor, reacquainting itself with the taste of food. Gradually, his appetite rekindled.

She nudged his plate back toward him, and he resumed eating slowly. Offering some of his meal to Cressida, she accepted more out of a desire to ensure he didn't stop eating than genuine hunger. With deliberate restraint, she savored small bites, recalling the days when a younger Obi-Wan would consume his body weight, much to the horror of Master Deva L’Rue. The thought brought a smile to her face, reminiscing about those lighter moments.

As they shared the meal, it brought back memories of better days when their paths crossed, and both masters and their padawans enjoyed shared meals and stories. This was the first time in two years that they had dined together. The previous occasion had followed the passing of Cressida's master, Deva L'Rue, adding a layer of somber reflection to their gathering. While the absence of their masters meant fewer conversations and embarrassing stories, the simple act of breaking bread brought comfort. Turning to Cressida, Obi-Wan, as though contemplating the question throughout the meal, finally asked:

"Where have you been?" 

The question arose from a mix of curiosity and a lingering yearning that endured two years of silence. Obi-Wan understood the slim odds of receiving a direct answer, given the mystery surrounding Cressida's actions after her master's death. She had simply disappeared, leaving behind uncertainty that haunted him for a while. Despite the slim chances, he couldn't resist asking. 

Her lips formed the kind of smile that carried the weight of untold secrets and extraordinary tales destined to remain unspoken. Instead of words, she raised her lightsaber, and with a vibrant yellow blade, it pierced through the shadows, casting a radiant glow. 

She was a sentinel—a guardian of the Jedi Order, tasked with navigating the enigmatic realms beyond the well-trodden trails of traditional Jedi.

As her lightsaber hummed, the once-darkened room transformed into a space bathed in its brilliant illumination. The two-year silence suddenly made more sense and it saddened him further. Their destinies were set on divergent paths, and he couldn't help but wonder how many years might pass before their paths crossed again.

The secretive and independent role of a sentinel explained where she had been all this time and also brought up more questions, fortunately he knew better than to ask.

“Our masters would have been proud of you."

“They would be proud of us.”

Trying to infuse a bit of levity into the atmosphere, Obi-Wan interjected humor into their conversation, inquiring: 

"Any extraordinary stories you can regale me with?" 

Cressida, as though on the brink of revealing some hidden knowledge or secret anecdotes reserved solely for Obi-Wan, scanned their surroundings and playfully motioned for him to draw nearer. Her unexpected compliance surprised him, prompting him to shift closer, intrigued by the prospect that she might actually unveil something to him.

“Two may keep a secret if one is dead,” she whispered with a wink, leaving Obi-Wan to chuckle in response, he should have known better. "And we can’t deny the galaxy a face as handsome as yours," 

The unexpected compliment caught him by surprise, a delightful twist that brought a genuine smile to his face. Though no stranger to compliments on his good looks, there was a unique charm in the way Cressida delivered her words. It prompted him to cast a bashful glance at the ground, a soft chuckle escaping him as if to downplay the noticeable blush coloring his cheeks. 

"Keep your secrets then; I won't pry them from you," he responded, sidestepping a direct acknowledgment of the complement while allowing a subtle warmth to touch the tips of his ears.

With Obi-Wan's plate finally cleared, life and color returned to him, prompting a relieved sigh from Cressida. The table, however, wasn't entirely empty. A lone dish remained—a small bowl of soup favored by Qui-Gon and Yoda. This root stew, resembling brackish water, held a special place in the hearts of the seasoned Jedi Masters. Despite its unappealing appearance, Qui-Gon and Yoda found delight in it, engaging in many conversations over the bowl during chance encounters on the temple grounds. They insisted it wasn't just tasty but also beneficial for one's well-being. Numerous attempts were made to persuade Obi-Wan and Cressida to try it, but even Master Deva L’Rue, delicately toeing the line between respect and tactlessness, kept his distance, declaring it smelled like swamp water.

Dodging this particular dish created an odd bond between Obi-Wan and Cressida, leading them to playfully call it that whenever it appeared. Qui-Gon, being fair, acknowledged it was an acquired taste, its prevalence tied to circumstances on an assignment. Under different circumstances, he might have never given it a second thought. Yoda's unbridled enthusiasm for the stew, coupled with grumbles about younglings being too picky, and his subsequent dive into the dish with an appetite bordering on ravenous, added a humorous twist to the culinary escapade in retrospect. Despite Obi-Wan and Cressida being far from younglings, in the eyes of a Jedi Master who had lived over 900 years, all Jedi, regardless of age, could be considered as such.

Obi-Wan and Cressida found themselves for the first time in several years face to face with the dreaded Swamp Water. A playful standoff ensued, with exchanged knowing glances and an unspoken challenge lingering in the air. With each daring the other to take the first taste, their expressions shifting between soft chuckles and head-shaking disbelief at the unappetizing bowl before them. Two Jedi knights, grappling with the burdens of the galaxy, found themselves in a lighthearted stalemate of stubbornness, and pride.

The passage of time had softened Cressida's recollection, and perhaps it wasn't as dreadful as she had remembered? After all, years had passed, and they were undeniably adults now. What better way to courageously face the future than with a ceremonial taste of the stew in Qui-Gon's honor? Naturally, she decided to let Obi-Wan take the first bite. Reaching forward, she stirred the contents of the bowl. The scent, even more unpleasant when cold, made her wrinkle her nose in a comically exaggerated display of distaste. Without missing a beat, she extended the spoon to Obi-Wan, who responded with an emphatic head shake and a resolute rejection of the utensil.

"Don't you think we're a little old for these games?" 

Obi-Wan deftly evaded Cressida's attempts to feed him the dreaded swamp water stew, ducking his head from side to side. Her persistent and somewhat childish antics managed to coax a genuine smile from the Jedi Knight, filling the room with the rich resonance of his chuckles. Yet, Cressida wasn't satisfied with mere smiles—she wanted unrestrained, hearty laughter,s he would accept nothing less.

"You’re exactly right, we’re far too old for these games. We’re adults. We're Jedi Knights, right?” She put the spoon back into the bowl and Obi-wan nodded, “Guardians of the Force, Keepers of the Peace." Obi-Wan nodded again in agreement, but a lingering skepticism still colored his expression, as if he anticipated a punchline he might not appreciate. "I think we've grown enough to triumph over a bowl of soup, don't you?"

"I suppose..." Obi-Wan chose to maintain a dubious stance, making no effort to hide it.

"You first." She pushed the bowl towards him

"What? Why me?" He blinked rapidly, sounding somewhat offended, shoving it back to her. "Ladies first."

“You’re the one with a padawan... who hasn’t eaten in a week,” she teased, determined to escalate their playful skirmish, pushing it with greater force. "It'll be good for you!"

"It’ll make me sick… Do you really want to witness me regurgitate what little sustenance I’ve managed?" Obi-Wan countered, injecting a playful tone into his words as they engaged in a lighthearted skirmish over who would summon the courage to taste the infamous stew. He gave it another shove, causing some of its contents to slosh out onto the table "Absolutely not!"

“Come now, Obi-Wan, make Qui-Gon proud, drink the swamp water.”

“You’re the sentry; I thought sentinels were known for their fearlessness,” He teased, playfully prodding at the pride associated with her sentinel status.

Unfazed, she shook her head, playfully accusing him, “Coward,” before boldly bringing the spoon to her lips and sampling the stew. Regret was instantaneous. 

As her face contorted into a look of sheer disgust, she groaned, biting her lips inward to keep from expelling the substance. Her defensive posture resembled a creature recoiling from an unpleasant surprise as she dropped the spoon into the murky swamp water, a culinary nemesis that seemed to take personal offense. Obi-Wan couldn't contain the laughter that bubbled up within him rivaling the roar of a Wookiee. It erupted like a geyser, a release of pent-up tension, and the laughter poured out of him in uncontrollable waves, echoing through the room. The sheer absurdity of the situation fueled his amusement, and he found himself leaning on the table for support, laughing harder than he had in weeks. With wide eyes and an audible groan, she valiantly attempted to wrestle the offensive taste into submission, which only made him laugh harder.

With wide eyes and an exaggerated groan of displeasure, Cressida dropped the offending spoon into the swamp water as if it had bitten her, her eyes desperately searching for salvation. Meanwhile, in the midst of this gastronomic chaos, Obi-Wan, now sprawled on the floor, held his sides as if trying to contain his laughter within the confines of his body. It was as if the sheer force of his amusement had rendered him unable to sit upright. The scene unfolded like a comedic masterpiece, with Cressida's struggles and Obi-Wan's uncontrollable laughter creating a tableau of pure mirth.

Despite the daunting challenge, Cressida summoned her physical training outside the influence of the Force, conquering the spoonful of the culinary concoction in several determined swallows. Her victory was marked by a post-swallow shudder that rippled through her entire being, and she couldn't help but let her tongue hang out in a comical display. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan, still clutching his sides, had tears streamed down his face as he watched Cressida's valiant effort, finding immense amusement in the unexpected respite from the prevailing heaviness that had haunted them for days.

"It's vile!" 

In her desperate attempt to banish the unpleasant taste, she continually opened and closed her mouth, her eyes fixed on Obi-Wan's cup of water, revealing a desperate thirst for relief. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Obi-Wan beat her to it and held the water just out of her reach, goading her until she practically scaled the table in pursuit. Amused by her antics, he continued to laugh at her desperation.

In the past, she would have resorted to tugging on his braid, a playful gesture no longer available since it was now gone. Instead, she opted for his collar, giving it a firm tug that pulled him back and caused the water to splash on the table. Unable to allow her to suffer any longer, Obi-Wan surrendered the coveted drink. As she took generous sips, hoping in vain for respite, she groaned between gulps 

"This is not fit for human consumption!"

"Did the water help?" Obi-Wan asked, still chuckling, his laughter unabated, fully aware of the predictable answer. 

In response, Cressida forcefully exhaled in his direction, unleashing an aroma that hit him like a gust of wind from the darkest corners of the galaxy. Obi-Wan recoiled, a look of sheer horror on his face, as if he had just faced a Sith Lord's malevolent Force attack. Fortunately, the odor passed quicker than the taste, leaving him only with the memory of the unpleasant aroma. Meanwhile, Cressida's suffering continued, and his laughter returned. It had been years since he had seen this side of Cressida—funny, at ease, and thoroughly disgusted.

Her expression turned sharp, and she shot him a glare that could have cut through Durasteel. 

"If you don't stop laughing, I'm going to leave you." 

Her threat was delivered with a playful undertone, a joke. Truth be told, she was happy to see him enjoying a good laugh, even if it came at the cost of her culinary misadventure. His smile had a way of brightening the room, and she wouldn't trade that for anything.

Obi-Wan, toeing the line of good humor, decided to playfully throw in the towel. He raised his hands in mock defeat, after all, the Jedi were known for bringing balance to the galaxy—time to live up to that reputation. He reached for the dreaded spoon in solidarity, giving it a comical salute before bravely taking a bite in an act of penance. Attempting to swallow it in one gulp didn't quite work out, but, credit to Obi-Wan, he only hesitated briefly, a quizzical expression on his face as he pondered whether anything could be worse than what he had already endured.

Obi-Wan's response was immediate—a full-fledged gag reflex that far surpassed Cressida's, leading him to cover his mouth in a desperate attempt to avoid the impending upheaval caused by the foul concoction. As he contorted in exaggerated gestures of what seemed like a mix of disgust and pain, Cressida couldn't help but burst into laughter, and it felt as if the Force itself found amusement, sharing a cosmic chuckle at their expense. Despite their roles as Jedi, in that comical moment, they reveled in the realization that even the mighty Jedi Knight could be reduced to animated hilarity by a simple bowl of swamp stew. She pictured the amused spirits of their late masters having a hearty laugh from their celestial vantage point in the Force.

Here stood the man who had bested a Sith Lord, a Jedi Padawan of fearless courage, charm, and unwavering determination. Yet, the current spectacle before her was a stark departure—a tongue hanging out, portraying a kicked puppy facing an unjust penalty. The contrast between these two versions of Obi-Wan, the valiant Jedi and the humorously defeated one, created a comical scene that had her rolling with laughter.

As Obi-Wan grappled with the lingering aftertaste of the dreadful stew, Cressida couldn't resist teasing him, holding the glass of water just beyond his reach in a karmic twist. Despite momentarily forgetting about the glass, Obi-Wan swiftly focused on it. Intent on not letting her win, he summoned it with the Force, sending it toward him like a streak of lightning. With a triumphant gulp, he downed what little was left, only to be immediately assaulted by the infamous aftertaste. Panting like a dog, he struggled to exhale the foul flavor. 

“How is it possible that it gets worse?” He groaned in exasperation, shuddering as Cressida did.

“Surprise.”

Pleased with the outcome and relishing in his laughter, along with the added amusement of witnessing his struggle with the repulsive dish, she couldn't help but flash a triumphant grin. Her mission to hear his genuine laughter, had succeeded, making the endeavor worthwhile. 

She delved into her pocket, a carefree smile playing on her lips. With a shake of her head, a sense of familiar lightheartedness enveloped her as she pulled out a small bar of chocolate. The wrapper crinkled as she snapped off a piece, savoring the sweet and smooth relief it offered, countering the lingering aftertaste of the dubious stew. A sigh of contentment escaped her.

The sound of the crinkling wrapper drew Obi-Wan's attention, and he extended his hand expectantly. She noticed his puppy-eyed expression, silently pleading for a share. Momentarily indifferent, she watched him with amusement. However, true to their shared history of banter and pranks, she mischievously kept the chocolate just out of his reach, maintaining the playful spirit of their ongoing games.

"Are you truly so heartless, to let me suffer through the torment of this aftertaste?" His face twisted in misery, desperate for relief.

"Maybe," she replied with a sly grin.

"Cressida, please," he implored, injecting a touch of mock desperation into his plea.

Her amusement deepened. "You call that begging?"

“I beg of you, please, have mercy on my poor taste buds.” His words sought respite, even if there was a lightheartedness in his voice. However, it was the unbridled body-rocking laughter that she truly aimed to provoke. She chuckled and extended a piece to him, which he eagerly popped into his mouth, sighing in relief as the sweetness coated his tongue, banishing the lingering memory of the foul stew.

"That’s what you get for laughing at me," she teased, popping another piece of chocolate into her mouth.

"You wanted me to laugh," he countered, a playful glint in his eyes.

As their laughter faded, Cressida relented, and the two indulged in the sweet escape of chocolate, leaving the taste of the earlier dreadful stew as a distant memory. A light smile graced Obi-Wan's face.

"I did," she admitted with a genuine smile, handing him another piece of chocolate. He accepted it with a smile that held more light than dark. In that moment, she caught a glimpse of the Obi-Wan she knew, gradually emerging from the shadows that had veiled him. “So, are you man enough for another bite?” she playfully challenged, holding out the spoon as if it were a weapon and the soup was a battle. “Or are you still a padawan?”

Hands raised in surrender, Obi-Wan, with a twinkle in his eye, conjured an impression of Yoda, proclaiming, “Padawans to the will of the force we all are.” Her chuckle signaled her own surrender, and she set her spoon down. Once more, the two of them had been bested by the swamp water soup.

As their laughter subsided, a warmth settled in the room, replacing the earlier somberness. With a genuine expression, Obi-Wan shared. 

"It's good to see you again." Obi-Wan leaned back, a playful glint in his eyes as he inquired, "How long are you home for?" Cressida's initial radiant smile underwent a subtle transformation, burdened by unspoken secrets and hidden sorrows—layers she couldn't unveil, not even to him.

"I managed to delay my next assignment until after Qui-Gon's pyre," she answered, her tone suggesting a reluctance to delve into the topic. The gesture was kind, and Obi-Wan understood it wasn't solely for him. Qui-Gon had played a pivotal role in Cressida's life, especially after the death of her own master, Deva L’Rue. She had always spoken of Qui-Gon's kind eyes and the warmth that could dispel even the coldest nights. "I wanted to be here for him, to say goodbye, and I wanted to see you."

“I didn’t see you there.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Would you?” She replied in a shadowy tone, a hint of a smirk.

It wasn't the wisest question, and deep down, Obi-Wan was aware of that fact. Still, he couldn't resist the urge to inquire about Cressida's next destination. Her response was met with a quiet, contemplative look, revealing nothing more than the simple truth that she would depart come morning. The weight of her impending departure struck him, but what she revealed next hit even harder.

With an expression bathed with pain, she uttered words that sent a shiver through him:

"I can't tell you where I'm going, but if you see me, you must act as though I'm a stranger. It has to be as if I don't exist." 

The notion of treating her as though she didn't exist felt almost unbearable, a heavy burden on his heart. The harsh reality sank in – the likelihood of their paths crossing again was slim at best and even if they did, it was likely that she would see him but he wouldn’t see her. Beyond the confines of this room, the prospect of seeing her again seemed distant, and the awareness of this truth was a poignant pang of sadness in his chest.

He would miss the warmth of her smile, the shared pranks that brought laughter, and the stories they wove together – moments that were uniquely theirs. As the impending farewell loomed, Obi-Wan grappled with the ache of knowing he would never experience those cherished connections again. The sorrow cut deep, akin to the pain of losing Master Qui-Gon. 

Qui-Gon was gone, one with the Force, while Cressida would remain alive but lost to him, existing in a realm unreachable. And that was somehow much worse.

"Promise me you’ll be safe and you won’t give in to the darkness," Obi-Wan pleaded, his voice a gentle yet earnest melody, woven with a hint of vulnerability that only those close to him could discern. He was aware of the apparent futility of such a request, but the weight of his concern overpowered any logical restraint.

“Only fools make promises they can’t keep,” Cressida replied, her words resonating in the air like a melancholic melody. The truth within her response bore a potent sting, emphasizing the harsh reality they faced. “But I won’t go down without a fight.” 

She wanted to tell him not to forget her, but that would defeat the purpose – she needed to be forgotten. A mere rumor, a hint of deja vu at best and just as easily brushed aside.

Her eyes, brimming with unspoken feelings, quickly blinked against the ambient light. A hasty attempt to shield herself from the approaching sadness as she shifted her gaze toward the door. Leaving now seemed the smart choice, a way to dodge any further pain they might endure.

Following the sensible choice, she slowly rose to her feet, facing Obi-Wan with a mixture of longing and sorrow. Silently, she wished to conjure words that could make their impending farewell more bearable, knowing deep down that no verbal solace existed for such heartache. As she prepared to take her leave, Obi-Wan's hand shot out, enveloping hers in a desperate grip. His eyes, once again shrouded in darkness and fragility, conveyed a plea that transcended mere words.

“Cress!” She froze looking at the death grip he had on her hand.

“I know it’s silly, that it’s selfish, but I’m not ready to go out there, yet.” His voice echoed with a genuine urgency, a plea for a reprieve from the impending separation. "Stay for a while longer, please," 

The vulnerability in his gaze exposing the depth of his need for companionship amidst the storm of emotions. In response, she nodded, acquiescing, and settled back into her seat. It would be fair to say she did it for him, but in truth she sat back down for her sake too. More than content to spend some more time by his side.

As they rested side by side, she laid her head on his shoulder, their hands clasped together naturally, fingers not quite lacing, and a tranquility enveloped them. 

An unspoken change seemed to occur between them, a subtle shift in their connection that lingered in the air for the past two hours. They both sensed it but couldn't quite grasp its nature or how to address it, then there was also the possibility that it didn’t need addressing. Some things could simply be.

He couldn’t envision a world where if he saw her, he could say nothing, do nothing, one where he would have to simply watch her go. The weight of the thought was unbearable. 

“I’m going to miss our conversations,” Obi-Wan murmured, she nodded, responding with a despondent "me too."

Obi-Wan looked down at Cressida, his thoughts meandering in the silence. Her padawan braid too, was absent yet he wasn’t sure he’d ever be used to it, he followed the path it once took intertwined with the rest of her hair. The strands cascaded freely around her shoulders, a departure from the neatly woven braid she usually wore. 

“You–,” 

He wasn't sure why he suddenly intended to express his amazement at her beauty, but he halted mid-sentence, realizing the danger of his words. A subtle smile played on her lips as she reached up  to the spot where his padawan braid used to be, giving the short strands a playful tug; it was far less effective. He was going to leave a trail of broken hearts across the galaxy, starting with hers.

“Are you afraid?” 

She replied softly, almost reluctantly, “Yes,” her voice carrying a vulnerability that echoed in the dimly lit room. She continued, “The thought of being on my own for the first time, truly on my own—it feels like standing on the edge of the galaxy, facing something vast and unknown. And I feel like I’m a Padawan again, and it all feels suffocating.” With those words, she pulled her knees up onto the bed, cradling them close to her chest.

His heart ached, and without hesitation, he lifted his arm, wrapping it around her shoulders. In the solace of that embrace, she curled into him, inhaling deeply.

The fabric of his robes carried the same scent — a gentle blend of soft linen, reminiscent of incense wafting through the temple corridors, intertwined with the faint aroma of propulsion engines humming from passing ships. It was an olfactory symphony that felt like home.

She tried not to think about how much she would miss that smell.

“I’ll miss your smile and your jokes,” She murmured, punctuating her words with a gentle tap on his nose, coaxing forth that familiar, brilliant smile. 

“I’ll miss your wit; delightfully dry but very warm and forgiving at the same time,” 

Goodbye was inevitable, a looming storm on the horizon, and with each passing moment, they only delayed the impending downpour of pain. Obi-Wan felt the weight of the parting settling on his shoulders, sorrow he wished to stave off for just a little longer, he wasn’t ready. Not yet. 

As if the word ‘yet’ could somehow serve as a buffer against the stark reality that awaited them.

Nestled comfortably in the circle of his embrace, she seemed so small, her knees drawn up to her chest, seeking solace within the haven of his arms. Sensing his lingering gaze, she looked up, and like a force beyond their control, a magnetic pull drew them closer. Their foreheads meeting, creating an intimate cocoon, noses brushing against each other in shared breaths that spoke of the intimacy they sought to prolong.

A gentle current passed between them, weaving an unseen thread that pulled them closer still, until a delicate adjustment on both their ends, saw their lips just barely brushing. In that fragile moment, a final delicate tilt led to a soft collision of lips—a kiss so tender it felt like a mere, featherlight caress, leaving behind a tingling sensation.

The fragile nature of the kiss spoke volumes, leaving a stillness in the room. After the span of a heartbeat, as if testing the waters.

Over the span of two years since their last encounter, Obi-Wan underwent a metamorphosis, elevating him beyond mere roguish charm to undeniably handsome. His essence, once a portrayal of youthful exuberance, had undergone a nuanced evolution that she almost missed. It was like revisiting a piece of art after a few years and seeing it in a new light, where new brushstrokes and colors revealed themselves, now discernible to a more mature gaze. 

A strength now emanated from him, his shoulders broad and commanding, bearing the weight of accumulated experience and a more defined muscular frame. His jawline, once soft and smooth, had become chiseled and shadowed by a hint of stubble—a departure from the meticulous grooming of his earlier days. Even the hand clasping hers was marked by the disciplined use of a lightsaber, now carried a seasoned ruggedness, evidence of a weapon wielded not just in defense but in the heat of anger. 

At the same time, beside him, the quiet symphony of the last two years unfolded, reminiscent of a familiar melody with newfound nuances to savor. The auburn cascade of her hair had departed from its habitual braid, flowing freely around her shoulders, appearing longer, darker, and richer. Her eyes, once vivid and expressive, now seemed stormier and grayer than usual, as if they already held the weight of countless secrets. They mirrored the tumult within, adding a layer of complexity to the evolving beauty that captivated his gaze. The subtle coral tint of her lips whispered an understated allure, and as his focus shifted, he traced the delicate curve of her neck. No longer possessing the innocence of a teenage girl, her form embraced the grace of womanhood. Soft curves delicately outlining an hourglass silhouette.

They leaned in again. This time, slightly firmer, the tingling sensation less intense but replaced by a growing warmth that enveloped them. Instead of breaking apart, they remained, savoring the connection.

Something shifted in the air when their lips met a third time, it wasn't a fleeting brush; it was a deliberate connection, a subtle acknowledgment of the emotions swirling around them.

As the older of the two Jedi, it perhaps fell into the scope of Obi-Wan’s responsibility to remind them both of their commitment to the Jedi Code and how what this was quickly becoming was drifting into a very gray territory. But he didn’t. All reason, logic and common sense demanded that he take his hands off Cressida, remind her of their ideals, wish her well and send her on her way, knowing he’d never to see her again.

Yet, he couldn't do it. He didn’t want to. 

He hadn’t felt good in weeks and a stubborn resolve settled in, hadn’t they both been through enough to warrant just this one little indulgence? It would be their secret. He trusted Cressida to keep it.

Similar meetings and rendezvous between other Jedi were commonplace, this was no different, except somehow it was different. Words were unnecessary, but the very essence of their longstanding relationship teetered on the edge of transformation and neither seemed bothered by it.

"Never again," He whispered, his voice a soft caress that barely concealed the lingering uncertainty. They hovered on the precipice, lips nearly touching, both craving more, her face briefly contorted in confusion. "Do you agree? Beyond these walls, who knows if our paths will ever cross again?"

Her response was a hesitant nod, understanding what he was alluding to. "Even if they did, we couldn’t reach out to one another."

"Exactly," he exhaled, a sigh of relief that carried warmth, the atmosphere around them deepening like a smoldering ember.

 "Your journey leads to Anakin." Cressida murmured, attuned to the subtle signals he conveyed. She dared another brush of lips, and he didn't pull away, in fact his arm around her shoulders drew her in more.

"And you'll serve the Council of First Knowledge in the shadows," Their coded responses granting them permission to explore the yearning that lingered between them.

"The Council doesn't explicitly prohibit physical connections," Her lips hovering just shy of his but aching to touch his again. "Only attachments." 

This was dangerous, what they were saying, what they were doing, but it wasn't completely unreasonable. The idea hung in the air and they weren’t the first Jedi to entertain it, a place where physical closeness could happen without deeply connecting the soul—a tacit understanding within the Jedi Order, shared but unacknowledged.

"Only attachments," 

"We wouldn't be the first Jedi to—" Her sentence was lost beneath the weight of his more assertive kiss, his calloused hand cradling the gentle curve of her neck.

"And certainly not the last," he declared with more confidence, inviting a deeper exploration with the soft, lingering brush of his tongue against her lips.

"I have until morning," 

The ticking clock, counting down to their inevitable parting, stirred a quiet desperation in Obi-Wan. Sensing her already leaning into his touch, a gentle nudge on her back prompted a fluid response — she swiftly climbed into his lap, fingers weaving up his chest and twining around his neck.

Left with only a precious few hours, a fleeting pocket of time, really, it wasn't enough to satiate their hunger for each other's presence, but it would suffice. They both craved a deeper connection, a touch that went beyond the ordinary. While neither was inexperienced in the realm of sexuality, this felt new, an intimate bond unlike anything before. And who better for this exploration? Bound by years of friendship and deep trust, they offered a comfort the other could find nowhere else.

He led her into another kiss, skipping all subtleties, coaxing her mouth open to him with the finesse of a skilled lover. It wasn't reserved or ambiguous; it was a bold manifestation of touch-starved desires; a profound need etched in every shared breath. 

Cradled in Obi-Wan's lap as if it were her rightful place, her fingers ran through his hair while their mouths engaged in a dance, relishing every tender touch of lips and the caress of tongues. The lingering taste of chocolate resurfaced in waves, weaving throughout the kiss with every roll of their tongues against one another, adding a layer of sweetness. This shared flavor, this secret bond, forged in chocolate-laced kisses, would resurface in their memories for years to come, whenever the taste or scent danced across their palettes. 

Suddenly captivated by the allure that she possessed, painted in this new light as a lover. An unexpected yearning welled up within him, blending seamlessly with a growing desire that defied his initial expectations. The sight of her in this intimate moment no longer felt unfamiliar; it flowed as a natural progression in the intricate dance of their evolving relationship.

As his hand firmly pressed against the curve of her hip, drawing her into a closer embrace, the ambient temperature in the room seemed to escalate, creating an almost stifling warmth. The weight of his Jedi robes, once a symbol of order and duty, now felt burdensome and confining in the charged atmosphere.

A subtle exhale escaped him, a sigh of relief, as her skilled hands navigated the labyrinth of intricate knots, ties, and fastenings that held the layers of his attire together. Guided by a well-practiced muscle memory, her fingers moved with a nimble precision, each deliberate motion filled with a growing sense of urgency. The anticipation hummed in the air, creating an electrifying tension that resonated through every touch. The soft sounds of loosened fabric rustling in the room, adding a tactile rhythm to the charged atmosphere. It was as if the very act of undressing became a dance, a prelude to an intimate connection that transcended the boundaries of their usual roles.

But the soft click of his lightsaber clasp being freed of his belt resonated like a branch snapping. It found its place on a nearby table, guided gracefully by the unseen hand of the Force. As their lips briefly parted, their eyes met, silently probing for any flicker of hesitation or doubt. It was like a suspended dance, each metallic sound echoing the unspoken question lingering in the air. With nothing but the soft click of Obi-Wan's saber belt filling the space, it felt like an unspoken conversation happening amidst the sounds of undressing, each click asking, ‘Are we sure about this?’

The realization hit her that this wasn’t some fleeting or faceless lover; it was Obi-Wan. Somehow that knowledge made her more certain than ever, any lingering traces of guilt over the forbidden nature of this physical entanglement and its closeness to the rule regarding attachment faded.

He ceased to be just a trusted friend in that moment; he became a source of warmth, strength, and desire. A physical presence she craved, one who could offer not just comfort but also pleasure.

The ever-present storms swirling within Cressida's gaze were now tranquil and gentle, while the crystalline blue of Obi-Wan's eyes remained unwavering, shimmering with contentment and serenity. They both knew there was no turning back, and strangely, it brought them peace.

With the belt absent, his tunic hung looser, now unrestrained, her delicate hands made their way up the expanse of his chest. With a final tug, the linen fabric slipped off his shoulders, fluttering lifelessly to join the discarded belt.

Her eyes first traversed the canvas of Obi-Wan's body, starting from their shared eye contact before drifting down the length of his neck to his collar and the smooth expanse of his chest, and down his stomach. Appreciating the unblemished contours that spoke of youth and untarnished strength. Unmarred by the scars time would imbue on him. It was a captivating display of vitality, the hard, well-defined lines held her attention, ultimately leading her gaze down to the laces of his trousers.

Her fingers, possessed by a tactile curiosity of their own, followed the path her eyes had taken, eliciting a subtle reaction from Obi-Wan's muscles flexing under her touch. She followed the soft trail of light-colored hair that descended into his trousers, this Obi-Wan was different from the one she had known in her youth. He had transcended the realm of being just a boy, a mere padawan; now before her as a man, a Jedi Knight. These titles, only mere words, were devoid of meaning in the grand scheme of the cosmos, somehow only made her want him more.

Despite the years of their enduring friendship, she had never seen him out of his robes, never witnessed him in any state of undress. The revelation of his robust physical form unfolded before her like a long-awaited revelation, and it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that she found herself momentarily captivated by the sight before her.

The self-assured essence of Obi-Wan's renowned smirk subtly resurfaced with the slightest upturn of his lips. In that brief pause, he basked in the way she gazed at him. He knew he shouldn’t be vain, but he couldn't deny the satisfaction derived from witnessing her captivated stare.

With a tender encouragement, he drew her into another kiss, skillfully navigating past her lips with a practiced ease. His mouth moving against hers, slanting in a hungry kiss that savored every trace of sweetness he could find. Cressida's soft breathing played like a sweet melody, her constant featherlight touches and caresses along his neck and sternum, sent goosebumps racing across his skin, prompting a delightful murmur of contentment through his lips to hers. Studying his reactions and adjusting her approach accordingly, growing bolder and uninhibited, from soft, and ticklish that made him shudder, to the light sting of her nails leaving red lines down his stomach, each touch elicited a distinct response.

In lives dedicated to serving the galaxy, such indulgences were rare and often frowned upon, sacrifices made in the pursuit of duty. Yet, in this intimate moment, a different kind of service unfolded—one that went beyond expectations and quieted lingering doubts. A service to each other.

The weight of a single kiss was minuscule but as they grew more passionate and more frequent, they began to build up and Obi-Wan’s body responded. He gave a groan when a smooth rock of Cressida’s hips against this growing erection made him painfully aware of just how much of an effect they were having on one another. 

His breath hitched at her touch, and his lips trembled, as if holding back unspoken words. Disengaging from the kiss, he circled his arm around her thigh while the other secured her lower back. With a seamless motion, he executed a flip, reversing their positions. As Cressida descended into the bed, Obi-Wan now loomed over her. His arms formed a cage on either side of her head, locked in place as he sank down for another kiss.

A deep, guttural sound escaped him as she skillfully wrapped her leg around his hips, drawing him in with a subtle and inviting roll. The ease with which she moved, exuding an innate intimacy, took him by surprise, as if they shared the familiarity of long-term lovers rather than the reality of their connection. An urgent energy coursed through both of them, and he sensed her fingers eagerly seeking the laces of his trousers.

Smirking against her lips, he left a lingering kiss before straightening up at the foot of the bed. He found amusement and intrigue in her slightly tousled appearance, paying particular attention to the way her gaze remained fixated not on his face but on the skilled movements of his hands as he worked on the laces of his trousers.

His fingers moved with a practiced grace, effortlessly unraveling the familiar knots while keeping his gaze locked onto hers. The air around them crackled with an electric charge, a mix of desire and a playful spark that danced between them. With the laces loose, he worked off his boots, each soft thud adding to the rhythm of their shared moment.

Obi-Wan's eyes held a fiery intensity, a playful smile playing on his lips. The way he looked at her, coupled with the easy progression of their actions, made everything feel just right. 

She moved to the end of the bed, on her knees, bringing her only to align herself with the level of his chest, her fingers blazing a tantalizing path that stirred a visceral response, each touch sending shivers through him. When she cupped his erection through the fabric of his trousers, the room hummed with intense energy as his hips instinctively responded, rocking into her hand, finding pleasure in the firm petting, moving in tandem with the deliberate, unhurried rhythm of her caresses.

His eyes drifted shut in contentment as he felt a soft guiding pull on his trousers, coaxing him forward. He complied without hesitation, moving until one knee brushed against the mattress edge taking some of his weight, lowering himself slightly.

He surrendered to the sensations her caresses evoked, a ripple of pleasure surged through his body. His hips moved instinctually, pressing into the warmth of her palm, seeking out the pressure that sparked such intense delight. 

With a gentle but insistent tug, his trousers gave way, the cool kiss of air against his heated skin contrasted with the warmth of her touch. Her fingers wrapped around him firmly, their steeliness belying the tenderness within her grasp, and from his parted lips escaped an involuntary exhale, sharp and laden with relief and want.

He watched her through half-lidded eyes as she began to slowly stroke him. Exploring him with purpose, each touch an experiment, an objective to learn what he liked, studying the language of his body. With a steadying breath, Obi-Wan reached down to overlay her hand with his own. His touch, suggesting rather than demanding, teaching her a rhythm that he liked—slow, but firm purposeful strokes that coaxed forth waves of pleasure.

His world narrowed to the slide of her skin against his, the pressure of her fingers, a tide of bliss rose within him, cresting with each deliberate caress, and his head fell back. His grip on her hand relaxed, arm descending heavily to his side.

“Yes, like that,” He breathed out, his voice barely a whisper thick with desire, accompanied by gentle breaths escaping in relaxed huffs. 

She paused, just for a moment, to take in the sight before her. His chest rose and fell with a languid ease, the tension that had once claimed his shoulders now dissipated into the ether. Her gaze traveled across his handsome features softened in bliss, the arch of relaxation that bowed his brow, the serene slope of his cheeks, and the gentle parting of lips.

Bringing him pleasure filled her with profound satisfaction, to see him so undone. Completely relaxed and unburdened, knowing she was the reason for it, felt more rewarding than any thought of climax. She craved more of this power over his state of being, desiring to keep him in serenity and pleasure, wanting to make the most of it before their time ran out.

A sharper inhalation escaped him, replaced by a low groan as Cressida embarked on a heated journey down his stomach, mapping every contour and ridge of muscle, each press of her lips a deeper etch into the canvas of his body. A crescendo of sensation built as she explored him, teeth grazing his flesh in love bites that spoke of primal urges and the craving to claim and be claimed.

“Cress…”

Her lips left a trail pulsating with cosmic energy, fingers, attuned to the unspoken cues he'd shown her, continued to stroke him, causing his cock to throb under her skilled touch. Pearlescent precum beaded at the tip, a temptation she couldn't resist. With the pad of her thumb, she smeared the slick essence in lazy circles around the crown, her movements deliberate and languid. The sound that escaped Obi-Wan was pure pleasure—raw and unrestrained—as her thumb moved in a hypnotic dance, spreading the liquid fire that seeped from him. 

As the circle of her thumb continued its leisurely glide over his sensitive flesh, he leaned into it, his chest heaved in deep and shaky breaths, the rhythm of his breaths growing erratic. He let loose a deep groan and gasp when she sank onto the bed and her lips closed over his weeping tip. The depth of the warmth of her mouth was a velvet glove around his length. Her tongue painted strokes of sheer pleasure with every swirl, causing many a deep stumbling moan and a visible shudder rippled across his entire being. 

Her movements were unhurried, each lap of her tongue against him, coaxing forth more of his essence which she greeted with eager acceptance. With each inch she took in, she paused, allowing him to feel the heat, the moisture, the snug embrace of her mouth before retreating and returning with equal fervor. Obi-Wan's fingers twitched at his sides, slowly finding their way to thread through Cressida's auburn hair, gently tugging with each pulse of desire that shot through him.

The rhythmic movement of her head drew him deeper into a haze, his hips canting forward in an involuntary plea for more of her enveloping warmth. Taking what she could, but unable to swallow him completely, but what she couldn’t, her hands continued to stroke, caress and squeeze. He felt like he was falling into a thick fog, as he met the back of her throat and he moaned as she pressed a bit further. 

She indulged him offering soft, sweet, indulgent suckles, lapping up more of the substance as it dripped from his cock. Lavishing attention on him, taking more of him into her mouth, basking in his ungentlemanly moans, making sure to leave no part of him unpleasured.

The vibrations from a moan—it was unclear whose—sent electrifying shockwaves through him. The blissful wet warmth of her mouth enveloping the length of his shaft, the soft flick of her tongue over his slit swirling, tasting. The instinctive thrusts of his hips, coupled with the crescendo of his thundering heart rate and hurried breathing signaled the rapid approach of an uncontrolled descent into pleasure. The precipice loomed, a sweet descent into abandon, and he edged ever closer, a hair's breadth from falling into oblivion.

He released her hair, his palm cradled her jaw, a silent signal that stalled the rhythm of their intimate dance. With a gentle insistence, he coaxed his hips away from the seductive embers of her mouth, refusing to be a selfish lover.

Gasping softly, Cressida lifted her gaze, her breath a warm caress against his sensitized skin. Her lips, glistening with saliva, parted slightly as Obi-Wan's thumb traced the soft curve with a painter’s precision. A faint shake of his head, subtle but meaningful, conveyed his message clearer than any word could: this was about them, not just him. She kissed his thumb, her teeth captured the pad gently, while her tongue played a teasing game, flicking over it with a playful intimacy that tested his resolve.

"Enough," he whispered, the word barely a breath yet heavy with intent. Obi-Wan's hands were tender as they guided Cressida in one fluid motion, she was on her feet, caught within the circle of his arms.

The kiss came without hesitation, fiery and demanding leaving no room for restraint. As the kiss deepened, Obi-Wan began a descent of passion along her neck, the warmth of his breath acting like a narcotic, bringing about a pleasant haze.

Each kiss was like a starburst, its heat searing her sensitized skin, leaving behind a trail of stardust. Her head tilted back, offering him more space to explore, to claim. 

“You’ll bring a man to his knees with that mouth,” he murmured into the crook of her neck. The vibrations of his voice tickled her flesh, sending waves of anticipation through her core. 

His lips found her pulse, latching onto the rhythm that hammered beneath her skin—a testament to the arousal coursing through her veins. It was a moment of surrender, of giving in to the torrential pull between them, and she could only clutch at his shoulders, grounded only by his strong embrace and the relentless pursuit of his mouth against her neck.

"Need these off," he murmured, his voice low and husky, eyes glinting with desire as they took in the unfamiliar sight of her clothing - an unusual departure from the usual Jedi robes. 

The utilitarian style of her outfit, he thought, would have blended perfectly with the crowd outside of the temple, a far cry from the typical aesthetic within these hallowed halls. It hugged her figure elegantly; it molded against her curves, accentuating her feminine form. He couldn't help but admire how well it highlighted every enticing aspect of her physique. 

His heart raced in anticipation of what lay beneath. As their lips met in a heated kiss, his fingers trailed down her back, feeling the soft fabric of her camisole, pulling the garment off over her head before his own hands roamed freely over her bare skin. He reveled in the contrast between her delicate form and his rough hands, savoring every moment of skin-on-skin contact. The discarded camisole joined the pile of clothes scattered on the floor, forgotten in their passion.

As his fingers traced along her body, he marveled at the softness of her curves, a stark contrast to the sharp edges and defined muscles he was used to. He explored every inch of her, from the gentle rise of her breasts to the smooth expanse of her stomach and the small dip of her navel. Every curve and contour entranced him as he moved lower, relishing in the feel of her under his touch.

While the visual allure had been captivating, Obi-Wan desired more than mere sight; he craved an exploration that engaged all five senses. He ushered her onto her back, embracing the softness of the bed, and for a minute she lay there under his gaze. Until now the sensual exchange of teasing and pleasure had reached its zenith, remaining largely one sided, and now the time for reciprocity had arrived.

His desire burned to taste and savor every inch of her body, an urgent need to dive deeper into their shared passion. Without hesitation, he joined her on the bed, crawling over her and covering her body with his own. Dropping to capture her lips in a searing kiss, opening his mouth to enjoy the lazy, sensual strokes of her tongue. 

He blazed a path marked by faint red marks down the hollow of her throat, creating a deliberate descent to accommodate his exploration. Her skin was now completely exposed to him, inviting touch and tasting. Each movement of his lips and tongue was deliberate, making for an enticing descent that only intensified her anticipation. With every kiss and lick, she felt a rush of warmth and desire spread throughout her body. His gentle caresses were like sparks of electricity, igniting passion within her. The taste of her skin lingered on his lips, drawing him in with its sweetness and addictiveness. She trembled with pleasure at his touch, yearning for more of his skillful exploration.

With a sense of familiarity born from past experiences, he moved lower, his mouth finding the swell of her breast in a delicate dance. The sound of her breath quickened and her body arched in response to his attentions. Emboldened by her reactions, he proceeded with purpose and skill, exploring every inch of her skin with his lips and tongue. Each gentle suction on her nipple sent waves of pleasure crashing through her body, causing her mind to short-circuit in pure bliss. 

She couldn't even finish saying his name before he was kissing and teasing his way down the plane of her stomach. A roguish glint danced in his eyes as he surveyed the damp trail his mouth had left on her skin, before trailing his tongue just above the waistband of her trousers. Locking gazes for a lingering moment, he blew a soft breath against the damp skin, reveling in the sight of goosebumps rising on her flushed skin. The intensity between them continued to grow as they explored each other's bodies with reckless abandon

“Obi-”

A smirk played on his lips. His fingers curled around the leather of her boot, tugging it off and flinging it carelessly over his shoulder. The sound of impact echoed in the room as the second boot joined its mate against the wall. With a graceful ease, he moved back up the bed towards her. His movements were slow and calculated, like a predator stalking its prey. He reached for her waistband, deftly undoing the clasp and pulling her trousers down her legs. Each inch of skin that was revealed was met with fiery kisses, leaving trails of heat in their wake. 

Her skin was warm silk under his palms, “Close your eyes.” His voice sounded different, lower, darker, heavier with lust. Impossible to ignore, so she complied.

The silence between them stretched on, the air thick with tension and anticipation. She could feel his warm breath placing a soft kiss that sent little electric shocks through her skin. Slowly, he made his way up her legs, leaving a trail of kisses along the way - her ankle, knee, thigh, and finally her hip. A shiver ran down her spine as he dipped his tongue into her navel, teasing and tantalizing. She wanted to open her eyes and take in the sight of him, but she resisted, focusing instead on short controlled breaths to maintain some semblance of calmness. 

Just when she thought she had found her center again, Obi-Wan shattered it with a fluttering of his eyelids and a tender kiss between her legs. As his tongue traced the seam of her lips, a rush of desire washed over her, melting away any remaining resistance. In that moment, she was completely lost in the sensations he created with each gentle flick and stroke of his tongue.

Her calm broke instantly, her lips parted but not real sound came out right away, only a desperate, mewling cry. His fingers traced delicate patterns along her inner thighs, adding to the sensations created by his skilled tongue. She couldn't control herself, her hips moving against him in search of more pleasure. 

Searching for purpose, her hands tangled with the linens, gripping them between her fingers, desperate for something to occupy themselves with. The lines of the sheets granted her mind a momentary easement, their softness offering a tactile anchor. But they were a poor substitute for the warmth of Obi-Wan's skin; she wanted to touch him, her fingers began to cramp from her grip on the linens and she reached for him.

Reveling in the soft texture of Obi-Wan's hair. With a sense of relief, she combed her fingers through the short strands, savoring the sensation of them brushing against her palms. Occasionally, stroking the tips of his ears, eliciting a pleasurable shiver from Obi-Wan. He visibly melted into her touch, silently pleading for more of her soothing caress.

The warmth of his breath, the soft wetness of his tongue and the occasional featherlight strokes of his fingers offering exploratory touches over her skin continued to stir up a crucible of competent sensations working towards a boiling point of inevitable pleasure. His pace was lazy and relaxed, offering the same intimate attention she’d given him finding a profound satisfaction in the way she writhed against his mouth and into his touch. Seeking out and easily honing in on that little delicate pearl of nerves he offered gentle licks and wet open mouthed kisses that had her seeing the stars behind closed eyes. She could scarcely breathe, much less barely able to utter a single syllable that didn’t turn into a moan or a whimper, speech was simply impossible under Obi-Wan’s ministrations. 

Her gentle caresses of his ears being the only power she had over him, and it was an odd thing that such a simple touch yielded such a reaction. When he stumbled, it was just enough of a lull for her to regain her ability to think and speak, the need in her voice when she called his name, drew his gaze from her weeping pussy. 

“Obi-Wan, please.” 

He took in deep breaths, his expression focused as if he was deep in thought. It was a side of Obi-Wan she had never seen before, one that seemed to revel in giving pleasure instead of receiving it. She placed her hand around the back of his neck and used just enough pressure to make him abandon what he was doing and sink into her mouth. She couldn't resist the urge to taste his lips, now flavored with her own essence.

His aching desire was evident as his erection brushed against her stomach, causing both of them to shudder with pleasure. He wanted to take her right then and there, but he wasn't sure if she was ready. 

"Open your mouth," he whispered, tracing her lips with his fingers and sending shivers down her spine. 

She hesitated at his request, but quickly gave in when she saw the concern in his eyes. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a deep, passionate kiss, savoring the taste of his moan. Her hips rolled against his hard cock, showing him just how much she wanted him. 

"It’s alright, I don't need it," she said, taking his finger into her mouth and sucking on it like she had done to his cock not long ago. "I need you."

She sucked gently, feeling him stiffen further against her, an embodiment of their shared longing.

His reaction was immediate; his eyes flared wide, a visceral response to the intimate caress. She felt his chest rise and fall with a heavy breath, his heart racing beneath the warm skin. 

With a reluctant shake of his head, as if to dispel the haze of overwhelming arousal, he withdrew his finger from the wet warmth of her mouth. The slick path it traced over her skin was a silent tease, a fleeting promise before dipping lower. His touch was feather-light, barely there, yet enough to elicit shivers of anticipation. Then, with precision and an almost unbearable gentleness, he slipped between her legs, venturing into the heat that beckoned him with unspoken pleas for fulfillment.

"I know," he whispered against the velvet of her lips. 

His words were a silken thread weaving through the heightened tension between them, binding her to the moment. She offered no resistance as his index finger slipped inside her, a gasp escaping her lips that was quickly swallowed by his mouth descending upon hers once more. Her back arched instinctively, pressing her closer into the heat of his body as she moaned with burgeoning desire.

The sensation of his thumb drawing lazy circles over her sensitive flesh sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her. Each circle was a promise, each gentle stroke a tease coaxing her toward an edge she was all too eager to tumble over. 

His finger was soon joined by another, both moving within her with an intimacy that had her inner muscles clenching around him. It was a gripping sensation, holding him captive just as much as it promised sweet release. He swelled with anticipation, the thought of being enveloped entirely by her warmth stoking the hunger that simmered within him.

"Want you to come undone for me first," he murmured, his voice a husky timbre that vibrated through her. The rhythm he set with his thumb and fingers was unyielding, a steady pace that was relentless in its pursuit of her climax. Each motion pushed her further, her body responding with mounting urgency to the dance they performed together.

"Come for me, Cress," he coaxed, his breath hot against her skin as kisses peppered her neck, her jaw, returning again and again to claim her mouth. The sound of her name on his lips was a catalyst, fueling the fire within her, propelling her toward the precipice she stood upon. His desire was her command, and she could no more stop the oncoming storm than she could cease the beating of her own heart. 

Obi-Wan's breath hitched in his throat, a shudder rippling through him as Cressida arched beneath the attentive ministrations of his hand. With each tender caress, she writhed, her body singing a symphony of pleasure that resonated in the stillness of the room. Her whimpers and moans filled the air, the sweet sounds of surrender mingling with the rhythmic creak of the bed. Shocks of delight traced the pathways of her nerves, her every muscle tensing and releasing in euphoric waves.

As the crescendo of her ecstasy ebbed, she lay quivering beneath his touch—a testament to the depths of pleasure he had coaxed from the core of her being. Her chest rose and fell with the heavy breaths of satisfaction, eyes glazed with an afterglow that spoke more than words ever could.

With only a hint of encouragement, she reached for the fastening of his trousers—an eager accomplice in their mutual undressing. The fabric whispered against his skin as she peeled it away, casting it aside without care. They lay forgotten on the floor, a casualty of their fervent desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” 

He’d refrained from the comment earlier, feeling it would only make things harder but at this point it was irrelevant, the pain would come later, for now they would relish in the pleasure as long as it was theirs to claim. For a moment they hesitated but not from fear, not from nervousness, there was just a gentle lull that passed between them. There was peace, warmth and closeness. A subtle shift, a tender adjustment, and Cressida's leg draped over his waist, the gesture as inviting as the crescent moon's arch. It was all the encouragement he needed. Obi-Wan's resolve crumbled like ancient ruins under the caress of time, his hips descending to meet hers with deliberate care.

Cressida's breath caught as Obi-Wan stilled within her, his body taut with restraint. It hadn’t been so long that the sensation was marred by discomfort; rather, it was the realization that Obi-Wan — this man who had been her friend, at times her protector, her unexpected source of solace — was now her lover. 

A shared silence hung heavy as he allowed the tremors that wracked her form to ebb away, leaving in their wake a raw openness she had never before experienced. His gaze locked with hers, a silent question lingering within the depths of his eyes, seeking permission to continue this dance of passion.

With a subtle shift of her hips, Cressida answered him more eloquently than words ever could; a silent plea for more, urging him on. He pulled back, only to rock into her again with a slow, deliberate motion that spoke volumes of his control 

“Kriff!” He’d never heard her swear before the harsh sound made his cock twitch in response.

Seeking her mouth again, he set a slow rhythm, a little too slow for Cressida’s liking and she tried to nudge him into a faster pace but he resisted, instead compromising by punctuating his thrusts with a bit more force. This seemed to satisfy Cressida and she purred his name, laying siege to his exposed neck, taking care not to leave any marks that would send tongues wagging but also strong enough to leave a lasting impression. 

“Cress, let me kiss you.” The neediness in his voice accompanied by his deeper thrusts, prompted her to abandon her pursuits on his skin and she embraced his mouth instead, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

The bed gave a subtle creak but neither noticed it, the room filled with murmurs and desperate breaths in between kisses. There were no barriers between them, physical or otherwise and as the warmth of his skin radiated onto hers, she saw something no one else did. 

And there he was—Obi-Wan the man—stripped of the Jedi mantle that cloaked his humanity. 

Warm, soft, tender, sensual, a bit on the aggressive side but that suited her just fine, every rock of his hips forward saw a wealth of pleasure surging forward as powerful as the force itself and she felt like in that moment with their bodies joined, she could move the very alignment of the planets themselves. 

It had always been of the hard and fast nature with her other lovers but with Obi-Wan, it felt like the force was speaking to her, telling her to slow down and what kind of fool argues with the Force itself?

She wrapped her legs around him and held him back with a little bit of pressure on his hips, stalling his rhythm. 

A softer kiss much like their first seemed to hold his attention and allay his confusion, and when she gave a gentle shove on his chest, he didn’t fight it, falling over onto his side then rolling to his back. Cushioned against the pillow he lay there looking up, letting his breathing even out, she resumed the position he’d held over her, straddling his hips, fingers gliding up his chest, to his lips. Greater than any piece of art that any museum could ever hold, she wanted to enjoy him from this superior angle. 

His lips parted maybe to speak, maybe not but the featherlight touch of her fingers over them stopped any potential words, his tongue darted out to wet his lips and to put a stop to the maddening tingling sensation she was creating as it was growing to be too much. She shushed him gently and kissed her way up his chest taking all the time she wanted. 

The Jedi were not just mere followers of the Force; they were its devout servants. Their strict code governed every aspect of their lives, from their daily habits to their relationships and even their capacity for joy. However, there was one area that the Jedi Council had overlooked: intimacy. Despite the Council's decrees on denying oneself such physical connections, the Force still spoke through this sacred act of creation. She felt no remorse for giving in, as she knew the will of the Force was greater than any man-made rules.

She closed her eyes and reached for his temple creating a physical bond to strengthen what they were sharing, he at first seemed confused by her actions but with a quick adjustment of their positions, she sank down on him. And a surge of something washed over him, more than sex, more than pleasure, more than a bond or a mental connection. Wanting him to experience what she was and the way his eyes went wide saw her intention met. She began a soft rock of her hips and his eyes fluttered closed, letting this new experience take over him. Letting it permeate every inch of his body, all the way down to his bones, he lay content and at peace in tune with the cosmic thrumming of the universe until she broke contact.

He opened his eyes and looked up at her as though he’d seen the soul of force itself, like for the briefest moment he’d held all the answers and all the questions ever possible to behold. He smiled and rested his hands on her hips urging her to move a little more, and she did. Raising herself up slowly before easing back down, his chest rumbled with a groan. This slow sensual pace was perfect, hitting places deep within her, she swayed slightly each time she sank back down on him, and he began thrusting upwards, refusing to close his eyes, not wanting to miss a moment of what he was seeing.

The softness of the rising moonlight cast shadows through the room that cloaked Cressida in shadows, perhaps all too fitting of a metaphor for this night and the future. But he pushed past and chose to ignore that, instead focusing on what he was seeing, she was beautiful, and even if it was just for the night, those few hours that no one would ever know about; she was his.

The slow pace brought about an appreciation he had overlooked when it came to sex, until now it had been a physical release, a fun one but nothing more. Was this what they called love making? It didn’t make sense, how could that be if there was no love between them? Affection? Yes, certainly. Trust? Implicitly. But love? 

No.

He decided not to dwell too deeply on such thoughts and to simply enjoy this, pulling her hips forward with a bit of a jerk and a sharper thrust up, the pace remaining unchanged but punctuated by a bit more force.

He pushed himself into a seated position, spreading his legs to give himself a bit more leverage and wrapping his arms around her, not deterring her rocking hips but to have another kiss and to keep her close. Close enough that he could feel her breath, see the quiver of her lips, pick apart all the shades of gray and ‘almost blue’ in her eyes, close enough to kiss her wherever he wanted. A wayward hand tangled in her hair pulling her mouth against his, swallowing the sound she made when he thrust his hips up sharply. He liked this position, they both held power, he could feel every little jolt of her body, keep her squeezed to him tightly, feel the beat of her heart. It was good but not without its flaws, he could already feel the strain on his back and the ache in his legs but he could hold out for just a little bit longer. 

“Obi-Wan…” 

She wasn’t aware she'd said his name, not until his movements stilled and he gripped her chin to bring her to look at him. His eyes filled with concern but it was fleeting until he realized his name had been uttered in rapture and it satisfied him to no end. 

“Trust me?” She nodded, of course she did.

He held her tightly in his arms as he thrust up, feeling her tightening around him. He could feel himself throbbing with pleasure. A gentle kiss and the caress of their tongues led Obi-Wan to roll them again so they were lying on their sides, with him behind her. Planting kisses on the back of her neck, he brought her leg up over his hip. "Just like this," he guided before slowly sliding back into her warmth, eliciting a groan from both of them. His arms wrapped around her hips, keeping her close as he continued to thrust at this new angle that seemed to bring them both immense pleasure.

“Stars!” She exclaimed. 

“I’ll show you the stars, I promise.” His breathy response as he increased his pace, thrusting faster. 

“You already have.” She replied, slightly out of breath. 

“Close your eyes and see even more.” 

Without questioning him or his intentions, she closed her eyes and let Obi-Wan lead them to a perfect climax. Behind her closed eyelids, there were tiny twinkling lights dancing, soft and gentle. When his hand found its way between her legs, those little orbs exploded like bright shooting stars. He grunted as she tightened around him, causing his steady rhythm to falter slightly. 

“See them?” He gritted through clenched teeth. 

“Show me more!” She demanded. 

He nodded against the back of her neck and began thrusting harder and faster, putting all his weight behind each movement and stealing small gasps of air with each one. His hand never stopped its steady stroking, turning those soft orbs of light into blazing supernovas that lit up the darkness they had both been consumed by, driving it away.

His breathing became erratic, and the crushing weight that had been on his shoulders for days seemed to dissipate. He desperately needed one last thing: a final burst of stimulus.

His left hand remained between her legs, determined not to move until she cried out in ecstasy. As his right hand found her temple and he gently bit down on her earlobe, their years of friendship and intense bond bridged the gap between them. With each rhythmic thrust, they faltered again, until the touch of his hand pushed them over the edge and they were enveloped in a cosmic wave of pure bliss. She cried his name, begged him for more, pleaded for him to take her harder, moving in perfect harmony with him as his body spasmed and he too reached the pinnacle of pleasure, calling out her name in guttural cries. His hold on her temple was too much to maintain, and he lost all sense of rhythm. 

In one last feat of agility, he shifted their positions while still inside her, looming over her as he drove into her with all his remaining strength. Thrusting wildly, each movement accompanied by her cries echoing through the room. Then, she pulled him into a passionate kiss, their lips and tongues meeting in a messy tangle of desire and need. Finally, as the electric shocks running through his body began to subside, they both collapsed in complete exhaustion.

Her chest heaved, eyes finally opening, the storms calmed into a soft overcast, Obi-Wan’s eyes were devoid of any turmoil, swimming with serenity. 

“You’re shaking,” She whispered, he smiled at the observation, as if he could bring himself to stop trembling after that.

“I’ll be fine. Are you alright?” She kissed him deeply, drawing a contented murmur from Obi-wan, he waited for her answer but as the seconds ticked by her lips showed little sign of stopping, moving down his neck. “Cress…” 

“I'm fine, Obi-Wan,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice strained with determination. 

She met his gaze, her legs wrapping tightly around his as their bodies rolled over in a tangled mess of limbs. Obi-Wan's muscles screamed for relief but he couldn't resist her, his body too weak and exhausted in the aftermath of his climax. He looked at her with burning curiosity, knowing that whatever was to come would push him to his limits. 

"Tell me if it's too much," she whispered breathlessly, her fingers digging into his skin. 

"If what's too much?" he gasped, already feeling the strain and pain building within him. But he welcomed it, craving the intensity and challenge.

His words were cut off as she slid him out of her heat and moved down his chest, leaving a trail of kisses in her wake. Realization dawned on him when she reached his hips and before he could utter another word, her lips were once again wrapped around his cock. A deep groan rumbled from his chest, a combination of the visual pleasure, the knowledge that she was tasting their combined release, and the tingling sensitivity that clawed at him, rendering him truly speechless. 

As she devoured him with her mouth, his eyes rolled back into his head and he couldn't help but moan in ecstasy. The sensation of her velvet lips and insatiable hunger reignited his desire, causing his body to respond once again. His quickly grew hard and thick again, aching for more of her touch. 

"We have all night," Cress purred in between licks, her hand expertly stroking his length just as he had shown her earlier. "And I can sleep on the ship." 

Her words only fueled his fire, knowing that they could continue this pleasurable torment until the sun rose.

The night blurred into a haze of sex, pleasure, and indulgence that few Jedi spoke of or experienced. Wave after wave of carnal release washed over them, pushing them to the brink of pleasure and beyond. As they embraced each other in the throes of passion, the night disappeared into oblivion.

~~~

Morning's rays crept across the bed, a golden snare that caught Obi-Wan's tired lids and pried them open against their will. A groan escaped his lips as he shifted beneath the sheets, the world outside pressing into the fog of his groggy mind. Muscles that had known countless battles now throbbed with an unfamiliar pain—an intimate ache—each movement igniting a cascade of hyperawareness that rippled across his skin.

For a moment, he lingered in the half-light of dawn, floating on the edge of consciousness. He grappled with the tendrils of sleep, trying to recall the events that led to such soreness, such profound fatigue. But memory was elusive, slipping through his mental grasp like sand through fingers. 

His breath hitched as clarity struck, ice water in the veins, and Obi-Wan bolted upright. The room spun briefly before settling into its mundane familiarity: the stoic walls, the simple furnishings—a refuge from a galaxy in turmoil. Yet something was amiss, a disturbance that sent his heart skittering.

He scanned the space, eyes landing with a dull ache on the untouched expanse beside him. The sheets there were cool, meticulously straightened, void of the warmth of another's presence. A pang of loss clutched at Obi-Wan, an echo of the coldness of that vacant place.

His gaze drifted, taking in the tidiness of the room—the orderliness that spoke of solitude. His boots, once haphazardly discarded in the throes of passion, now stood sentinel by the wall. His robes, their folds speaking of careful hands, rested on the chair alongside his lightsaber, a silent guardian within arm's reach.

Silence hung heavy where laughter and whispered confidences should have filled the air. The table, now barren, gave no sign of the shared meal it had hosted—no crumbs, no lingering scent of spice or sweetness. It was as though the night prior had been carefully erased, leaving behind only the tangible tokens of his own existence.

Obi-Wan's throat tightened, the emptiness in the room mirroring the hollow sensation within his chest. Where warmth had been, there was now only the stark reminder of isolation—a contrast as sharp as the blade he wielded. His hands clenched into fists, the ghost of another's touch still haunting his skin, as he faced the day alone.

She was gone.

He lay there for a moment, the weight of her absence settling over him like a shroud. The room seemed to echo with the remnants of their passion, a tangible thing that he could almost reach out and touch. It hadn't been romantic – no, such things were not for Jedi – but it had been real.

Obi-Wan rose and dressed silently, his movements mechanical. His fingers brushed over the spot where her lightsaber had rested, and he wondered if the yellow blade felt as cold and alone as he did now.

Despite everything, he couldn't regret what had transpired. Last night, they had shed their roles and simply existed as two beings seeking solace in one another. There was beauty in that, he thought, and a connection that went beyond the physical.

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Time to reforge his resolve, to take up the mantle of mentor to Anakin.

But first, he allowed himself one final indulgence – a lingering touch on the pillow where her head had lain, a silent promise to remember the feel of her lips, the sound of her laughter mingling with his own.

Then, just as the first rays of dawn splashed gold across the floor, Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out into the day. Alone, yet forever altered. He looked out to the rising sun that shed its light over Coruscant and murmured to the stillness knowing she would never hear it.

"May the Force be with you, Cressida."

~~~

Phew! Well, hope that gives you guys a little of what you were looking for and some more insight into Obi-Wan and Cressida's past! If you like this then please feel free to reblog, like, comment, and let me know your thoughts! Alright! Now we can get back to getting these two crazy kids back together! @heyhawtdawgs. @split-spectrum(because you're a fan of the man! I thought you'd like this too!) @pickleprickle @burnthecheshirewitch @decembermidnight

You guys are the best cheer readers I could ask for! See you in the next chapter!

[toruro]

love you twice — j. wonwoo x reader — part one

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

description: in which your extremely hot and sexy one night stand turns out to be your son’s teacher. naturally, chaos ensues, but you might just find love as your life continues to take an unexpected turn.

“so, you’re just going to pretend like you aren’t avoiding me?” wonwoo asks with a brow raised, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. heat flourishes at the tip of your ears as you turn away from his gaze. “i’m not avoiding you mr. jeon,” you mutter, suddenly realizing you’ve just been caught in his trap. he takes a step forward and you back up against the wall as he leans in so his lips are ghosting your ear. "really?" wonwoo murmurs, "because i think you're lying." you both stay like that for a few moments before coming to your senses. he steps away with a heavy breath. "i'm sorry. you can get going if you—" you aren't sure what possesses you in that moment but you just can't allow him to finish what he's saying, grabbing him by the collar and slamming your lips on his.

tags/warnings: sexual content (18+), first-grade-teacher!wonwoo, mother!reader, fluff, angst (light), reader is jun's cousin, dirty talk, sexual tension, tension in general lol, unedited

w/c: 6.7k

a/n: this thought came to mind like once and i just *had* to write it because oh my god???? i hope u like reading this as much as i liked writing it! please reblog and like if you enjoyed, it would mean the world to me c:

“Fuck, yeah,” the pretty man above you grunts into your shoulder as he fucks into you, the drag of his fat cock against your gummy walls having you writhe in pleasure under him. Your fingers reach up and claw at his back, and if the digging of your nails into his skin is hurting, his only response is another deep, guttural groan of pleasure.

“Oh, fuck!” you cry out when his thick tip is hitting that one spot which has your toes curling, throwing your head back into his mattress, weakly bringing your hips up to try and sync with his thrusts, encouraging him to go deeper, harder. “Right there—right—ah! There!”

He continues to batter his length into you after your pleas, muttering out words of praise—“good girl—fuck—holding me so tight, so good,” and the words are going through your ears and straight down to your hot, sopping core because holy hell this man is amazing at dirty talk.

You’re so fucked through that you can’t even remember how you ended up here—all you know is that you were finally left with a free night when your cousin offered to take care of Kei for the night when you expressed the need to have just a little time to yourself. The last thing that comes to your mind at the moment is how you were at a club and somehow managed to end up here, in the bed of an extremely attractive man who seems to know exactly what to do with his mouth, his hands, his dick.

It’s a passing thought that the shame will hit you eventually, but right now all you can think about is how long it’s been since you got laid and how you never, ever remember sex feeling this good. You aren’t sure if it’s just this guy that is amazing or if you’re just really needy and desperate but—oh fuck, he’s slamming into you so hard and there’s that pulse that rumbles deep inside of your core and it has you moaning loud. Okay so, it’s definitely the fact that he might be your best lay pretty much ever, and it has you squirming around as you babble, “‘m gonna cum—I—fuck, I’m cumming!”

The waves of hot, white pleasure hit you hard and it has tears welling up in your eyes as you feel him let out his own moan from the way you’re squeezing him so tight, the feeling of his warm cum filling up the condom as he thrusts into you a few last times. You two stay like that for a moment, his hands on either side of your head holding his body above yours, as you both inhale and exhale deeply trying to catch your spent breath.

After a minute, he’s pushing himself off of you and off the bed, pulling off the condom to throw it out without a word. You take this as your cue to get up and start picking up your clothes, squeaking a little as a dull ache resides in your legs. You catch him looking at you at the sound, and you swear there’s a hint of a smirk on his face, but in the dark of the room you can’t quite tell. As you lean down to slip on your panties, he finally speaks.

“You can use my shower, even if you don’t plan on staying.”

You glance up at him with a chuckle, saying, “You like keeping your one night stands over for breakfast? What a gentleman.” He rolls his, pulling on some pants as he does so.

“Is there something wrong with being hospitable to someone who looks like they can hardly walk?”

“I suppose not,” you hum, ignoring the flush of your cheeks at his sly comment. “I appreciate the offer, but I have to get home—I have someone waiting for me,” you explain, a small smile creeping its way onto your face as you think about Kei. He looks at you for a second, a confused and honestly slightly mortified expression donning his face. Your eyes widen as you realize what that must have sounded like, and you throw up your hands and shake your head. “I don’t mean it like that—I—fuck—I’m not cheating on anyone! I meant something else!”

He gives you a funny look, replying, “I’ll choose to trust you on that, for the sake of my own sanity. I wouldn’t want to know that I’m the cause of a failed marriage or something.”

You grumble as you pull on your shirt, checking your pockets and purse to see if there’s anything missing. “No failed marriages here,” you laugh, tone slightly bitter before you brush it off. “Anyways, you should choose to trust me because I am telling the truth,” you counter as he watches you make your way to the exit. “I guess it doesn’t really matter, since I probably won’t see you again.”

“Too bad,” he grins as you approach his apartment’s door, slipping on your shoes. “That was fun.”

You inwardly bite your cheek at his shamelessness, looking away. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I guess,” you huff nonchalantly. “Anyways, thank you for this night. I kind of really needed this,” you admit, and then you’re slipping out of the door before he even has a chance to respond.

When you return to your apartment, you’re greeted by Jun at the door, lips somewhat in a grimace as you find Kei asleep in his arms. “Sorry, he kept saying he wanted to wait for you and he wouldn’t go to sleep so I tried to put on some show for him but then he fell asleep on my lap but I didn’t want to move until you came back,” he explains as he braces Kei under the arms so he can hand him over to you.

“Aw,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to your son's forehead as you look up at Jun. “Thank you so much for this, Jun, it really means a lot.”

He brings a hand up to the back of his neck and chuckles, waving his hand at you. “Don’t worry about it. I know you needed this,” he says, following you to your bedroom to help you set up the bed for Kei. “I got him to brush his teeth and all, so all that stuff is in set. Is there anything else you need help with?” he offers as you finish up tucking Kei into bed, walking out of the room as you shut off the lights.

“No, I think it’s okay,” you tell him honestly, leaning against the kitchen counter to catch up with Jun for a few minutes.

“Okay well, d’you have fun?” Jun asks, and he doesn’t give you the chance to respond before saying, “Seems like you did,” he snickers, pointing to your neck. Your hands fly up to your neck with wide eyes as you remember that your fuck buddy for the night was quite literally all over you.

“Whatever,” you respond with a roll of your eyes, “it’s just one night, and I swear I just needed to let loose a little.” You sigh deeply, and Jun sends you a look of sympathy.

“Everything alright?”

Your shoulders slump as rest your weight on the counter, leaning into Jun has he wraps a shoulder around your arm comfortingly. "It's just—ugh—Kei is starting first grade in two days and I just...I don't know how to feel."

"That makes sense," Jun agrees, "but it's good that he got into that school you'd been trying to get him into, right?"

"Yeah," you sigh again. "Fuck, that was really hard—I had to beg that principal to let him in 'cause they were full and it was a pain in the ass, but it is a really good school so I guess it makes sense." Jun hums in response, encouraging you to go on. "I guess it's just that I'm worried for him? It's only been me and him, you know, so I'm nervous. I know it's a good school, I just hope he's gonna be in good hands."

"Trust me, Kei is an amazing kid, so he'll be able to thrive anywhere. And if the school isn't up to your liking, you always have the option of transferring him out—after all, he's only in first grade so switching schools shouldn't be a problem," Jun explains to you, leaving your side to bring you a glass of water.

"Thank you," you say honestly as you gulp it down. “I think I needed that.”

“No problem. Is there anything else you want to talk about? You know I’m always open ears.”

You throw Jun a smile as you push yourself off the counter. “Yeah, I know, and I appreciate you for that, but honestly, all I need right now is to change into my pajamas and crash into the bed,” you tell him as he slips on his shoes at the doorway, picking up his backpack.

“Alright, alright. Let me know if you need any help or anything. I’m gonna get going now.”

“Thank you again,” you say as you open the door for him. Jun smiles and waves at you, bidding goodnight before he’s walking down the hallway and out of your sight. Once you close the door behind you, you waste no time getting into your bathroom and rinsing your body off, slipping into a much more comfortable set of clothes.

It's around ten minutes later when you're finally done with cleaning yourself and the room up one last time before crawling into the bed next to Kei. As you pull the covers over you both, you feel the exhaustion from the entire day fully engulf you, and before you know it, you're being thrown into a deep slumber.

The next day is Sunday and you spend each minute biting your nails and stressing over anything and everything. Kei’s going to be going to an actual school for the first time ever tomorrow and you can’t help but notice a buzzing instinct that something—just something—unexpected will happen. You can’t quite place your suspicions on something just yet, but the thoughts have you going crazy to the point where you have to call Jun in the night so he can calm you down.

“What if—what if—?” your frantic thoughts are cut off by Jun.

“Okay look I know you’re stressed but maybe you’re making this harder on yourself than it needs to be. You’ve thought of everything and like maybe 0.01% of the scenarios are actually even feasible, so trust me when I say nothing’s going to go wrong.

“But what if—”

“No what if’s!” Jun exclaims exasperatedly, “or else I’m going to come and take Kei to school myself tomorrow because god knows you’re not in the right mind right now.”

“Okay! Okay! I’ll stop!” you surrender in defeat, sighing as Kei comes up to you to show you a drawing he made. “I’m gonna get back to making dinner, Jun,” you say through the phone before squatting down.

“Okay, talk to you later. Try not to lose your mind,” Jun advises, causing you to chuckle as you hang hup, turning your full attention to your son.

“Hey Kei-Kei,” you say sweetly, patting his head as he looks down at the paper in his hands. “What’cha have there?” you ask curiously, scooching closer as he holds up the paper.

“It’s the new school, Mommy,” he explains, holding up a colored drawing of a school and a stick figure of you with an (adorably) abnormally large head holding the hand of a stick figure of him. “An’ there’s you an’ there’s me!”

Your heart swells as you stand up holding the paper, using a magnet to put it up on the fridge. “I love it Kei, you’re such a good artist!” you exclaim, swooping down to pick him up. “You excited for school tomorrow?”

“Yeah!”

“Your teacher’s name’s gonna be Mr. Jeon okay? That’s what the principal told me,” you tell him carefully, setting him down at his elevated seat at the dinner table. “Be nice to him okay? You need to respect teachers.”

“Yes Mommy,” Kei nods along enthusiastically as he watches you go to the kitchen and bring him some rice and curry.

“You remember the plan? I’ll drop you off but I don’t think I can stay long enough to go with you inside ‘cause I have work, okay?” Kei only half-mindedly nods his head as he dives into the food that you’ve set for him, but you don’t have the heart to blame him—after all, this is probably the fifth time you repeated this to him today. “I’ll be there right after school ends though,” you tell him, reminding yourself of the parent-teacher meeting Kei’s teacher had arranged to introduce himself to the parents.

“Okay,” Kei responds, his mouth stuffed with rice and curry smeared on his chin. He looks up at you innocently and you can’t help but giggle, his smile washing all your worries away.

As you clean up his face, you remind yourself of Jun’s words from earlier. Everything’s going to be okay.

And for the most part, everything is okay. In fact, everything’s going great, from Kei’s smooth drop off at his new school, to when you set foot on campus with five minutes to spare before the teacher meeting. There’s a big fat grin plastered on your face as you realize that maybe your hunch that something was going to go wrong was nothing more than that—just a hunch.

Now this is the part where you think you should have known better.

Once the final school bell rings, there are students rushing out of classrooms as you among a few other parents gather around the room that is 103, waiting to see your children and their teacher. As you all form in a line by the door, there’s a slightly older woman standing next to you wearing a kind smile.

“Are you here to see Mr. Jeon?” she asks you. Her warmth grows on you as you smile and nod.

“Yes! I assume you are too?”

“Mhm,” she nods, “I’ve been so excited! He’s a fairly young teacher, you know?”

“Is that so so,” you murmur, “my son is new to the school and all, so we aren’t really familiar with any of the teachers. Does Mr. Jeon have a good reputation?”

The lady shrugs. “I’ve heard he’s quite good with the kids, but I’d hope he was since he’s a first grade teacher…” she jokes. “I haven’t heard anything bad about him, if that’s what you’re asking. What I have heard though, is that he is quite nice to look at!”

You let out a small chuckle at that, amused by the idea of a man who has the parents of his students gossiping about his looks.

“Oh!” the lady exclaims, straightening her back. “Looks like they’re about to come!”

You peer over the shoulder of the father of another student in front of you, watching as the door opens slowly and a rush of Kei-sized children run out. Your smile brightens as your eyes land on your son, calling out his name so that he can run up to you and into your lifting arms. Picking him up, you have time to observe the obvious grin he has plastered on his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Hey Kei-Kei,” you say sweetly. “How was your first day of school?”

“It was so much fun Mommy! Mr. Jeon says he’s gonna talk to all of you,” he said, pointing at all the other adults greeting their kids.

“Yeah, that’s right!” you tell him, setting him down. You’re about to say something else before you hear a deep, familiar voice—it hardly takes you a second to realize who it is, and you freeze in your tracks. Your face grows pale as you brace yourself for what you’re about to see and hear—you’re lucky you’re standing in the back so he can’t see you and the million thoughts that are evidently running through your mind..

“Hello everyone, I’m glad you could make it today. I’m Jeon Wonwoo, and as you know, I’m your child’s teacher. I’m excited to start things off on a high note. You can have your child play on the playground during the meeting, since we still have our supervisors out to watch them."

Mr. Jeon. Jeon Wonwoo. Wonwoo. Him .

You should have known that your mother instincts were too accurate—the universe just had to throw you a curveball. You chew on your tongue for a moment figuring out how to handle this situation as you lean down closer to Kei, nodding to him when he looks over at you for permission to follow his newly-made friends to the playground. Taking a deep breath as you watch Kei skip away, you glance over at him , who luckily hasn’t seemed to notice you.

Straightening your back as all of the young kids happily follow each other outside, the hallway is finally only left with him and the parents. “Okay, you guys can come in, I’ve made room for you all to stand around the back since I doubt any of you will fit into your child’s chair,” Mr. Jeon jokes, and while most others laugh, there’s a pit of anxiety gnawing at your stomach that has you going stiff. He moves aside a little, making way for the parents to enter the classroom and greeting each one individually.

Suddenly your breath is caught in your throat and you glance around you, excusing yourself from the lady next to you so you can shuffle to the back of the line, pretending to look through something in your purse. You aren’t even sure what you’re trying to do, but all you know is that you just need a moment to collect yourself, your thoughts. Luck must not be on your side though, as before you know it, the last person in front of you has entered the classroom leaving you dead in your tracks and staring at Mr. Jeon , who’s eyes haven’t turned fully towards you yet.

Maybe this is your last chance to run , you think quickly, but you remind yourself that embarrassing or not, this is for Kei and you’d be damned to miss this meeting. That and the fact that maybe you’re just a little happy that you’re seeing this attractive man again and— no! You scold yourself, don’t think like that!

You shake yourself of such dirty, such inappropriate thoughts when you finally catch his eyes landing on you. That’s when you see it‚ the way his eyes widen slightly as he takes in your figure. He recognizes you, you’re sure of it. His hand is already reaching out to shake yours but it stops midway as you both take a moment to stare at each other before he’s quickly clearing his throat and looking away for a second.

“H-hi,” he says, pursing his lips together after realizing he fucking stuttered. “Nice to meet you. You must be Kei’s mother?” he asks, avoiding the fat fucking elephant in the room. You shyly reach out and shake his hand, fruitlessly trying to ignore the memory of these very fingers being plunged knuckle deep inside of you less than two nights ago.

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” you reply quieter than you want, suddenly finding it unable to meet his gaze as the pads of his fingers brush against your skin. “Nice to meet you too. Kei’s been, um, excited to start school here,” you say louder as you try to avert your attention away from what you’re both thinking about, “so I hope you can make his time here a good one.” Mr. Jeon presses his lips into a smile and you want to bash your head into the wall at how sincere he looks.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, before raising a brow and pointing toward the room. You follow his direction and stand by the other parents who are lined up at the back of the classroom, Mr. Jeon following in behind you and making his way to the front of the classroom.

From there the meeting begins, and he goes over a small presentation over the daily activities of his class, classroom expectations, and such forth. You pay attention to the best of your ability, you really do, but sometimes you find your eyes drifting away from the projector screen and toward his arms that are on show with his short sleeve shirt, your mind trailing off to a place that it definitely shouldn’t. You catch yourself quickly though, mentally reprimanding yourself and turning your attention back to the presentation.

He finishes up the meeting with a list of his contacts and you quickly bring out your phone, along with others, to list down his email and phone number (only for the reason of Kei’s education, of course). “If you have any questions, you can ask me now. If not, you’re free to go!” There’s a series of “thank you’s” that echo through the room as some approach Mr. Jeon and others, like you, shuffle out of the classroom. You can’t lie, your steps are quick and you’re nearly running out of the room so fast that you don’t catch the way his eyes linger on your back as you exit.

“He said I’m a great artist! We did some coloring and he said my flower looked really nice.”

“Well he didn’t lie,” you tell your son as you pull up to the parking lot for your apartment complex. “You are a great artist, Kei,” you say as you get out of your seat and pull your work bag with you, then help Kei get out too. “Tell you what Kei-Kei—you want to go to a restaurant tonight?”

The way his smile is so bright and infectious when he’s nodding yes has you leaning down and squeezing him into a hug as you both make your way to your apartment. The rest of the evening is spent with you cleaning Kei up and finishing up your own work—now that Kei isn’t going to full day care, you’re going to have to go to work for half the day so you can pick him up, leaving more work for you in the evenings.

Tonight, you’re determined to finish up your work quickly so you can take yourself and Kei out to dinner at some burger joint as a celebration for his first day of school. By the time you’re home, Kei is exhausted and nearly falling asleep in your arms as you carry him up. Setting him down and tucking him into bed is the last thing you do before going to the living room and sinking down into your couch, sighing out of your own fatigue.

You’d think you don’t have enough energy to think about anything else, but once you’ve cleaned up and are trudging to crash onto your bed, those thoughts are creeping up your back.

Jeon Wonwoo.

You roll around under your sheets, pressing your face into the pillow as you mumble incoherent curses. It was only a one night stand, only a casual fuck, so why are you here still thinking about him? For fuck’s sake he’s Kei’s teacher! You just can’t be having such thoughts about him! Right?

So why are you squirming under the sheets thinking about that night—the way he made you feel things you never could even imagine feeling. “Fuck!” you mutter to yourself, slamming a pillow over your head. You huff lowly, rolling over in your bed, pressing your eyes shut as you hope that if you pretend that you’re asleep hard enough, your brain will actually lull your consciousness away. And for a moment, it works—you’re asleep within a few minutes.The only downside? You may or may not be dreaming about Jeon Wonwoo.

The rest of the week is, thankfully, slightly easier on your heart. You only really go to Kei’s school to pick him and thanks to the valet system in place, you often don’t even have to get out of the car, one of the older volunteer students always helping him into your car.

Kei seems to be having the time of his life as well, always coming back home with saying something along the lines of, “Mommy, today Mr. Jeon taught us this really cool thing…” or “Mommy, Rei and I made up this new game at recess…”—least to say, you’re enthralled that he’s having a good time, and you almost forget about how his teacher haunts your thoughts every night.

It’s Friday now and as promised, you stay behind after school today so you can watch Kei play with his friends for some time on the playground. You’re on your phone, scrolling through some work emails to mentally calculate just how much you’ll have to work tonight to ensure a relaxing weekend. You're in the midst of frowning when you see a shadow approach you from the corner of your vision, although you pay it no mind. At least, not until you hear his voice.

“Hey.” It’s deep and calm and has you thrown back into those thoughts that you've been so desperately trying to avoid. You’re hyper aware of his figure next to you, and the way that his shoulders, his arms, feel so large and protective next to you is driving you fucking crazy.

“Oh,” you murmur in surprise, turning to look at him. “Hi Mr. Jeon,” you greet awkwardly, keeping a bit of distance between you two as you slip your phone into your purse, “it’s nice to see you here.”

He nods. “The feeling’s mutual,” he tells you, and although you figure it’s just a formality, the way he says it with that small smile tugging at his lips has your stomach doing tumbles. “You can call me Wonwoo, by the way.”

“O-okay Wonwoo,” you reply nervously as the air between you thickens, as if you’re both egging each other on seeing who’s going to fold first. You clear your throat before speaking again, “How’s Kei doing in your class? Is there anything I can do at home to help him?”

“Not at all. He’s a good student,” Wonwoo—god, his name sounds so nice in your head—replies almost immediately. “He’s really good at drawing, I’ve noticed.” Wonwoo notices how your face lights up at that comment, the tension on your shoulder dropping slightly as you respond.

“Yeah, he loves to draw at home. I’ve been thinking of putting him in an art class or something where he can practice and stuff,” you explain, eyes flickering over at Kei who’s sliding down some slide with another boy.

“That would be nice,” Wonwoo agrees, and once again the silence returns.

“I should get going now,” you say after a few moments, pulling your phone out to pretend like you’re checking the time. “Kei-Kei!” you call out, and it only takes a few seconds before your son is bounding down the playground and up to you as you crouch down. “Hey buddy, it’s time to go,” you tell him.

“But I wanna play Mommy!”

“Kei-Kei, please? I have to work tonight and you’ve played for almost an hour now.”

He’s frowning deeply and you find yourself almost caving in, but before you do, Wonwoo is speaking. “Listen to your mom, Kei, okay?” His voice is stern yet gentle, and the way Kei’s face softens has relief coursing through your veins.

“Okay Mr. Jeon,” Kei agrees, taking your hand as you stand up. You look at Wonwoo with gratitude.

“Thank you for that,” you say quietly, slightly embarrassed. “We’ll get going now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Wonwoo says casually, pushing his hands into his pocket and stepping back. You’re walking away as you say bye, Kei flashing a grin at Wonwoo as he waves him goodbye. “See you later,” Wonwoo calls out to you. “Hopefully,” he adds and you swear he chuckles when he here’s you choke in shock. You don’t look back out of the humiliation that your cheeks are burning, tugging Kei along as he goes on about the new game he’s made up with his friends.

Jeon Wonwoo might just be the death of you.

The first month of Kei’s school continues to go smoothly. You don’t come across Wonwoo much after that, although that may partly be due to you avoiding him. It’s not as if you dislike him, in fact, it’s quite the opposite—you think you might like him too much.

His face, his glasses, his smile—fuck—the way he’s so kind, so gentle—you can’t seem to find a single thing wrong with him. Everyday Kei comes home babbling a new happy story about Mr. Jeon and what he taught the class, or a new compliment he gave him, and you can’t help but fall for him simply through the words of your son.

It is a little embarrassing, if you’re being honest—having a crush on a man at your big age—but you just can’t help it.

As the month progresses, you find both yourself and Kei get used to things—he seems to enjoy going to school every morning and you enjoy the happy smiles he holds when he returns. Everything seems to fall into a perfect pattern, with nothing seeming to go wrong. Well…that is, at least, until this Friday.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you exclaim, knuckles white as you grip the steering wheel, glancing at the time on your dashboard. Your last meeting ended up longer than you planned but you couldn’t leave, given it was with executives, and now you’re stuck in traffic as you’re already late to pick up Kei. “Ugh,” you groan out, trying to peer over the cars in front of you only to realize that you might be stuck here for a bit.

You’re slightly frantic trying to figure out what you’re going to do—any other day you would have called Jun and asked him to pick Kei up for you, but he’s on a trip with his friend so that isn’t an option right now. Chewing on your bottom lip, you glance at the unmoving traffic and pull out your phone, scrolling through your contacts. You don’t think twice before hitting the contant labeled Mr. Jeon, letting out a sigh of relief when you hear the other end pick up your call.

“Hello, Mr. Jeon?” you say quickly when you hear some shuffling on the other side. “This is Kei’s mom.”

He says your name softly before asking, “Can I help you?”

“Hi, yes, I’m really sorry, but I think Kei might be waiting for me at the valet but I’m stuck in traffic and I—fuck—” you mutter when you need to slam the breaks hard. “—sorry for my language—I just don’t know how long it’ll take for me to pick him up and I don’t want him to wait for me too long so I was hoping that there was something you could do so he could wait in the office or something—anything really—just so he can wait somewhere safer while I come,” you blabber.

Wonwoo takes a few seconds to reply, and for a moment you think you might have spoken so quickly that he didn’t hear a single thing you said. “He can stay in my room, if that’s okay with you,” he finally says, and you blink a few times.

“I—really? Tha-that’s definitely okay with me, yeah. That would be amazing, thank you so much Mr. Je—Wonwoo. Thank you,” you ramble, shutting up quickly when you hear a soft chuckle from the other side.

“Yes really. Don’t worry about it, I usually stay in the class after school anyways. You said he’s in the valet?”

“Yes, he usually waits by the tree,” you tell him, and a silence can be heard from Wonwoo as he gets up from his seat. “Thank you again, I’ll come as soon as I can.”

“No problem,” he replies, and with that you hang up, leaning back in your seat as you feel you can finally relax now.

It takes you around another 25 minutes before you’re finally pulling up to the school's parking lot, quickly making your way through the familiar route to Kei’s classroom. Knocking on the door, you peer through the small glass window, insides growing warm and fuzzy at the scene of Kei happy drawing on a desk. It takes a few seconds but then there’s a hand on the knob, opening the door for you.

“Thank you so much,” you let out before you can even see all of Wownoo’s figure.

He laughs and holy hell is it one attractive laugh (since when did you start finding laughs attractive?!). “Stop saying thank you, please,” he groans jokingly. “I might just start feeling bad. Seriously, it’s no problem, I’m usually here for a while anyway and Kei is wonderful company.”

You purse your lips, tentatively stepping into the room as Wonwoo moves for you, arm brushing against yours as you approach Kei. “Hey Kei-Kei, you wanna go now?”

Kei turns to look at you, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “But Mr. Jeon said I could play outside if I wanted!” You turn your head to look at Wonwoo, raising a brow.

“Uh, since the supervisors are still out I said he could play in a bit since I didn’t know when you were going to come,” he explains, and your gaze softens, turning back to your son.

“Okay Kei-Kei, but only fifteen minutes, okay?” you tell him, helping him clean up as Kei makes his way out the door and towards the playground. After putting his stuff away, you pick up his bag and head in the same direction as Kei to follow him, pausing when you feel a hand on your wrist.

“You can stay here, you know?” Wonwoo tells you, a smirk playing at his lips. “I don’t bite.”

You plaster a sympathetic smile through your nervousness, hastily replying, “I know, I just—I’ve already bothered you today and I think I should just head off now.”

“You aren’t bothering me.”

“Okay well,” you counter as you make your way to the door, “what if I just really want to watch my son have fun?”

“You’re really good at this, you know?”

“Good at what?”

“So, you’re just going to pretend like you aren’t avoiding me?” Wonwoo asks with a brow raised, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. Heat flourishes at the tip of your ears as you turn away from his gaze.

“I'm not avoiding you Mr. Jeon,” you mutter, suddenly realizing you’ve just been caught in his trap. He takes a step forward and you back up against the wall as he leans in so his lips are ghosting your ear. "Really?" Wonwoo murmurs, "Because I think you're lying." You both stay like that for a few moments before coming to your senses. He steps away with a heavy breath. "I'm sorry. You can get going if you—"

You aren't sure what possesses you in that moment but you just can't allow him to finish what he's saying, grabbing him by the collar and slamming your lips on his. Wonwoo’s arms fly up to your face and cup your cheeks, immediately running his tongue along your lips. The familiar taste of his tongue sliding against yours is something that you thought you wouldn’t experience after that night, but having him with you, right now, like this is enough to have your mind racing—he’s so fucking addicting that you can’t even fathom how you went more than a day without him.

Wonwoo's grasp on your face has you tilting your face, noses brushing past each other as you deepen the kiss, your fingers lacing in his thick locks to hold him close. His lips move so effortlessly against yours you'd even go as far to say you two were dancing, as you stumble back into the wall. Wonwoo presses you against the surface and you let out a gasp as he leans down, kissing you so hard and passionately that it might just suck the air out of you.

And it probably does, considering when you finally pull away from each other you’re gasping for air both from just how long Wonwoo’s lips stayed connected to yours, along with how breathtakingly amazing of a kisser he is. He looks down at you with some sort of sparkling look in his eyes and it has you weak in the knees, gripping onto his hair tighter.

He lets out a low grunt at the action and holy fuck the sound is doing things to you but then you’re both reminded of where you are and what you’re doing and then Wonwoo is stepping back as you let go of him, putting some space between you two. His glasses are slightly foggy and he takes them off to rub the moisture away on his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” You reach for his hand, cutting him off.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, somewhat bashful of your own actions as you look down, “We both did that so uh…don’t apologize.” Wonwoo looks up at you and then back down at your hand holding his, squeezing it comfortingly.

“Okay,” he says gently, reaching for his phone in his pocket. “Can I, uh, get your number? I only have it saved on the school phone…” he asks hopefully, looking up at you as he uses one hand to smooth his ruffled hair, the other holding up his phone in your direction.

Your lips are pressed into a tight smile as you try to hide your cheeky grin. “Of course,” you say maybe a little too quickly, punching in your digits and handing it back to him. A silence settles between you two, but it isn’t uncomfortable like before, no, it’s rather…warm now.

“I…” Wonwoo starts to admit, “…never thought I’d end up in a situation like this.” You giggle and nod your head in agreement. “But, um, I’d like to see where this goes.”

“I like the sound of that,” you reply with a smile, and it's the truth—your stomach tumbles with a good feeling that things might just go your way.

a/n: hope u liked it! i'm super duper excited for this story and was literally kicking my feet writing this so you can expect a part 2 quite soon! in the meantime, please like, comment, and reblog! send me an ask or comment if you'd like to be tagged in part 2!

pt.2

[happiest-hotch]

Can you write something summer-y for Hotch? Maybe he comes home early from a case and finds Reader and Jack having fun in the pool? Or anything that gives that summer feeling lol

One of the best things about living with Aaron and Jack, aside from getting to live with your favorite people in the world, is the pool.

You didn’t understand why it was such a deal breaker for him since he and Jack barely used the one at his old apartment, until summer rolled around and with it, the heat.

DC’s heatwave would have killed you without a pool.

Jack had jumped in right after soccer day camp and after an hour of cooling off, he finally agreed on coming inside for dinner. The routine is a little more relaxed when Aaron’s away, even more so when it’s summer vacation.

That reason alone is probably why he easily convinced you to get back in the pool after dinner and TV, just before bedtime.

But it’s Friday and wearing him out means he’ll sleep to mid morning Saturday and hopefully it serves as a distraction from him missing his dad. Night time is usually when he misses his dad the most do you do what’s possible to ensure he’s asleep as son as his head his the pillow.

Aaron has echoed the same feeling when you talk to him on the phone, and he definitely has it worse, halfway across the country in Dallas where the weather is switching between thunderstorms and extreme humidity.

“You wanna play Marco Polo?” You ask Jack, distracting yourself from looking at the barbecue and remembering Aaron grilling just before he left.

He splashes some water your way before answering. “Okay, you go first. I’ve been practicing holding my breath though so you’ll lose.”

His identical competitive spirit to Aaron’s doesn’t go unnoticed by you and you grin as you splash some water back.

You cup your hand over your eyes, listening to him splash away from you. “Marco!” You call.

“Polo.” The reply came from a voice far too deep to being to an eight year old and you pull your hands off your eyes to see Aaron standing by the pool’s edge.

“Daddy!” Jack exclaims, jumping out of the pool and running over to hug Aaron. He’s soaking wet, dripping with chlorinated water, but Aaron don’t hesitate to hug him. He shed his jacket and tie, but you’re not sure how he’s coping with how hot it is in a long sleeve shirt and dress pants.

“Hey, bud.” Aaron greets him. “What are you doing up at…” He pauses to check the time on his watch, eyes darting to you still in the pool. “…8:42.”

You give Aaron your best puppy dog eyes, although you know he’s not mad. “Swimming, duh.” Jack replies, sassy as always.

You bite back a chuckle as Aaron does the same thing. “Yeah, I gathered that.” He says.

“Come in.” Jack insists. “You have to.”

“It’s late and you should probably be in bed already.” Aaron says, taking the firm line like you expected he would.

It’s okay though because you have a plan. “Can you give me a hand up?” You ask, swimming to the edge and holding your hand out.

Aaron frowns slightly, but he’s too excited to see you to ask why you won’t use the stairs. “Sure.” He reaches out to grab your hand but you pull hard, overpowering him easily since he doesn’t expect it.

You quickly swim out of the way, and he lands in the pool behind you, yelping- hilariously- when he hits the water.

Jack’s laughing with you, thoroughly amused by your mischief and enjoying seeing his professionally dressed dad in the pool.

When Aaron surfaces, he’s failing too glare at you. He’d fully commit to the bit of being annoyed if he wasn’t smiling so widely.

“You’re naughty.” Aaron says, waggling his finger at you.

You swim closer to him, brushing some hair off his forehead. “Welcome home.”

[drei-mrssvechii]

have you ever been ice skating? | mat barzal

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pairing: mat barzal x reader

warnings: kids, mentions of falling down

word count: 582

a/n: so it's been a while since i wrote something and i came up with this at midnight so hope u enjoy it! be kind, always open to feedback, requests, etc, etc.

Your husband, Mat, was a professional hockey player, which meant he spent a lot of his time on the ice; and your son, Eli definitely got the skating skills from him, because you had never been ice skating. You’d usually watch from the tv or the stands but never tried it. 

However, Eli had asked to go skating a million times, begging for you to come this time and there was no way you could say no to his cute pouty face and looking at you with those hazel eyes, so you ended up agreeing.

While Mat was tying your skates, your son was jumping all over the place, waiting for his dad to finish. Once you were ready he was the first to step onto the ice and as he began to skate across the ice without any guidance, panic set in and the sudden urge to back off crashed at you. 

“I don’t think I can do this” you said, eyes wide open and feet wobbly. 

“C’mon babe, of course you can. Best teacher on Long Island here, eh?” Mat assured you and left a quick kiss on your lips.

“Mom!! You watching me? Come in, it’s gonna be fun!” You nervously laughed and trying not to think much about it, you took two deep breaths and left all worries behind. 

“Ok, I can do it, I definitely can.” You kept repeating the mantra as Mat stepped onto the ice first, his hands never leaving yours. “Let’s get it over with”

Then he helped you onto the ice and when your legs wanted to give out on the slippery surface, his grip on your body tightened. Just like that, he started guiding you through a few laps around the rink. 

Little by little you were getting the hang of it until Mat let go of your hands and skated away.

“Let’s try on your own. Skate to me” You took a hesitant first stride, Mat’s advice playing in the background.

Confidence is key. Take a deep breath, look up, and focus on balance. 

You reached Mat in no time, with a huge smile on his face, he placed his hands on your waist and spun you around excitedly.

“See? It’s not that hard.”

“What can I say? I have such a great coach.” You joke with a huge grin on your face. Maybe skating wasn’t that bad after all.

“Mom. Mom. Mom. Let's race!” You looked at Eli, not sure you could beat him in a race. At least you could stand without falling over but his little feet sure had more practice than you. But you’d do anything to see a smile on his face, so even though as soon as Mat shouted “Go!”  Eli had already skated away at a great speed, you started off confident, at least you’d make it to the finish line in one piece.

Until you hit a bump on the ice, wide-eyed you instantly fell on your butt.

“Ouch. That one hurt.” You wailed as both boys skated to your side.

“Don’t worry” you laughed briefly “I’m fine but I’d be nice if you could help me up.”

“This whole ice skating thing? I don’t think it’s my thing” you spoke again.

“You’ll get some bruises but with some more practice you could go to the Olympics” Mat joked as he lightly chuckled.

“So funny, Barz. My feet actually hurt, can we go now?”

“Yeah, sure. Come on buddy, mama needs some rest.”

-

taglist: @fallinallincurls @barzyblogbabe @hockey-racing-fubol @beauvertime @ssebastianaho @stars-canucks @kailyn-writes @owenpowerstapejob @boeswhore @quietblues @barzyandhughesbaby @this-is-ally-and-im-confused @svechnikov3737 @honeygarfield @1-800-iluvhockey @cammieshockeyblog | join here!

[kyber-crystal]

Hi! May I request a sequel to "my little love" for how jake responds to max calling him dad/daddy for the first time? or jake being cute with max and your shared kids (bc i KNOW y'all don't stop after the first one lol)

i'm sorry it took me so long to respond to this but HELL YEAH and i'm extra sorry i didn't post this for a while b/c i wasn't sure about how it turned out in general...anyways, i hope you enjoy : ')

my future || jake "hangman" seresin

summary: as written above! this is a sequel to the headcanon my little love, which i LOVED writing w my whole heart.

settling into married life was surprisingly not difficult. you'd already spent so much time around hangman that forever felt so comfortable

now everyone is so happy and in high spirits. but max is significantly happier than them all and it's so wholesome to see

rooster, or "fairy godmother" (max likes to call him the latter....yes...godmother, not godfather. you don't know why but it's so funny, especially when you watch rooster react to this), is always there to take care of your kiddo when you're busy

he let him sit in his F-14 and take a picture with him :)

and you're paranoid and worrying the whole time but rooster's like "relax, i got him" and he's super chill about it

"he's gonna be a pilot. better than you, even," you leaned over and gave your husband a look

"i think so!"

the kid lives and breathes top gun. and now that you've moved in with hangman, you're only a few minutes' walk from base, making it easy to go back and forth.

when you're working at the hard deck, penny sits him by the nearest booth with a milkshake and some old books and toys

if one of the uncles or phoenix wasn't busy, they'd come over to keep him entertained

and you know when hangman's done for the day when you see max break into his signature grin. you've noticed that you only really see it around him

so you're celebrating his fourth birthday today. it's insane, because he already speaks like a six year old (hangman says it's because you're also smart af. but, being the cocky lil shit he is, fanboy likes to take the credit for it. i mean, the guy majored in biochem, so he knows his stuff)

it's an off day for everyone, so they're able to come help decorate the place. you had the idea to surprise your son, so while everyone was getting ready, fanboy was with max by the beach, playing soccer. they'd come back in an hour and boom!

by the end of things, the hard deck doesn't look like the hard deck anymore. it looks like max's paradise—a kiddie version of top gun, you realize. your heart melts because 🥺🥺🥺

everyone hides when they hear fanboy and max coming in

and then you all jump up from your hiding spots and yell "SURPRISE" and he starts grinning again

and then the kid runs straight towards hangman, giggling in pure delight

"daddy!" he yells

you're all like wait wtf

did he just

say

oh

hangman has to stop for a moment before picking him up. you can see him tearing up bc this is the first time max has ever said this

it's definitely really fulfilling to watch. when he was a baby and screamed and cried for hours at a time out of nowhere, you knew it wasn't always just from tiredness. or being hungry. or whatnot

the rest of the night you're all emotional af and max notices

"daddy why are you crying?"

there go the waterworks...more tears slip down jake's face 🥺😭

"because i'm happy!"

"people cry when they are sad! like when uncle fanboy loses to uncle payback!"

"HEY! kid, i thought you were on my side"

"so, i'm your dad now, huh?"

"forever and ever and ever and ever!"

how could you have gotten so lucky...

you're sitting here in the middle of the hard deck with your family. a family when realization hits. you had a loving husband, and a father, and a child that brightened up your world, and you couldn't have asked for anything more. you finally found someone that wanted forever and wasn't one to back away

now for some more cute moments post-birthday celebration

you take max to base every day right

and hangman will carry him on his shoulders all the time

if he's not done with his flight or workout or whatever, maverick takes his place

or his fairy godmother :)

as soon as he lands, max takes off at the speed of light and goes barreling towards him (how tf is the kid so FAST)

as hangman picks him up he looks at you and says "can we please have another kid. please"

"i want a sister! tell her, daddy!"

"see, the little man agrees"

sorry this ending was so awful i genuinely apologize...

tags, including people who may be interested: @totomoshi​ @sarcastic-sourwolf​ @sebastianstangirl01​ @altheadarling​ @ellabellabus07​ @hay-9105​ @purelyfiction​ @93joons​ @criminalyetminimal​ @yeehawnana​ @lunamoonbby​ @hazelgirl355​ @multifandom-fangirl4​ @paintballkid711​ @lyn-lc​ @whatlovegattado​ @azari-anna​ @thelifeofthelifeofme​ @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel​ @quivvyintheclouds @phoenixhalliwell @winteryoungie @mychoso @lt-b-rooster-bradshaw​ @jenny-riversmith​ @krisitzeneva​ @daethsticks​ @sithwidow​ @rosie-posie1313​ @sadpetalsstuff​ @glossydi0r​ @i-simp-much​ @hay-9105​ @meeeeees-stuff​ @sweetdayme4427​ @unicornlover92​ @intrxde​ @rhiannon-russo​ @dolce-clout​ @theghost1345​ @baby-girl-e​ @greatbigshiningstar​ @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy @julia-marshal @anya7802 @bittergomez @and-claudia @newlibrary @cosm1cfae

sorry if this doesn't seem updated! some tags include ppl who were tagged in part 1 of this blurb mini-series. if you'd like to be added to the taglist, comment or add yourself to the tgm taglist here!

[moraloreldeservedbetter]

Id like to talk about Clay as a father,

(I dont have my thoughts together about this so bear with me)

So everyone knows hes a horrible father, but i think that in his own twisted way he tried to break the cycle, which allowed Orel to become the father he was shown as in the last episode.

Now, obviously it took Clay some time to actually try to be a father, because until Orel was 4 he neglected him, i like to think because the thought of being the same thing as his father was too much for him, but neglecting was also too much and he couldnt admit thats what he was doing, so he was torn and felt worthless. (Clay literally says he didnt know how to be a father in trust)

In Passing you can see how Arthur was hurting by Angelas death and took it all out on Clay by hitting him, which clay saw as approval. Now with Orel, Clay does so much more than that. While Arthur basically threw old gunny in Clay's face and said "fuck off", Clay actually took Orel hunting. (Or attempted to) and because Arthur didnt take Clay hunting as a kid, Clay drank, a lot more than he usually does. (He always has a glass in his hand, but in Nature he was just chugging bottle after bottle) It could also probably be because he didnt have any responsibilities except for killing animals, so he could drink and relax but i like to think its because it was hard for him to do anything father and son related when he didnt know how fathers are supposed to act.

Also, Clay states "If i can prepare you for the bleakness of adulthood, i've done my job" which i think he had to figure out on his own, with no mother and a father who doesnt care about him. So, again, in a way, he tried to be a better father than Arthur.

ALSO!! the fact that Clay never tells Orel "I love you" back probably shows that he doesnt know how to say it, so thats probably something Orel picked up from Bloberta, im just not sure in which instance she would ever say "I love you" to her family, because she doesnt love them. (Other than trying to prove Orel wrong, like them pretending to love each other in Grounded and Gods Blunders.)

I think that when Clay was saying something and trying to piss Arthur off, he was trying to say "I love you" and when Arthur hit him back, he took it as "I love you too, son" but eventually, Clay saw it for what it actually was, which is dementrated in Trust because he actually states that he feels worthless when in his fathers presence. In fact, the only time Clay ever says "I love you" in when in the presence of another man, to another man.

I think Orel tries to see this, too, despite his hurt from Clays abuse becuase i believe whole heartedly that he lets his children see Clay and Bloberta, if he didnt he wouldnt put a picture of them on the wall next to Block and Shapey.

I have more thoughts on this but this is just too messy and im not normal about anything in this show

(Side note, in Sacrifice Clay is walking out of his study and copys Shapey when he says yummy, and interaction is only something that happened before Angela died, i cant see anything positive happening between Clay and Arthur after Angela died so uh yeah)

oh i agree

i DEFINITELY agree

clay is the embodiment of "i will not be my father" and decides to be somehow WORSE

[mores0]

Okay, so, buckle in because I have so much to say about the first episode of Psych, and I already know that this post is going to be extremely long, haha.

So first of all, season one is one of Psych’s best seasons in my opinion, and the first episode is one of my favorites. It’s just so good. And it’s crazy how even though it’s James Roday and Dulé Hill’s first episode, they act like they’ve already known each other and been friends for years- their chemistry is amazing right off the bat.

And Shawn and Gus’ characterizations in this episode are amazing, because as the show goes on they really got watered down, but in this episode- it was amazing. Shawn in this episode was so- I don’t know if this is the right word- but angsty, I guess. And I kind of like it honestly. Lassiter’s ex partner was like “You never know when to give up, don’t you?” And he said something like “Oh, I give up all the time, but only when the moment’s right,” or something like that, and as a “gifted” kid, I felt that. Lmao. And- there’s more that I want to talk about- but I’ll come back around to it later- hang in there.

And Gus is the best. I am Gus on a spiritual level. He has anxiety, (which is actually confirmed because he takes anxiety medication apparently, I didn’t know that). He says that he doesn’t want any part of what Shawn was doing, but he secretly wanted to so bad and Shawn knows that, and said all the right things to give Gus the push he needed to just go for it. And he was having the time of his life, even if he said that he wasn’t. Even when he was running away from the dead bodies screaming, which definitely would’ve been me in that situation, lmao. And then when Shawn solved the case and they were both let go, he had the smuggest little smile on his face, because he knew that Shawn could do it. “Just one more day.” Yeah right, he knew fully well that he was going to do it with Shawn for as long as possible lmao, you’re not fooling anybody.

And then there was Henry and Shawn’s dysfunctional father-son relationship- which even in the first episode is very prominent. And that’s literally how the show started- first scene ever, and it was Shawn doing the hat thing and Henry saying “yeah, that’s adequate.” That pisses me off haha, sorry to everyone who likes Henry. I respect that and can definitely see why people would feel that way- but I just don’t like him very much, haha. Additionally, Shawn didn’t even know that his dad had already been back for a year or so, and they didn’t seem too happy to see each other again which was rough. And later on when Shawn did the hat thing again and even like, noticed things that Henry didn’t, he smiled for a second, which Shawn seemed to be happy about and they could’ve had a moment before Henry ruined it by saying something like “Whatever, you got lucky,” and how he was a disappointment, etc, and then they went back to being angry at each other, which is their main issue I think. Shawn wants Henry’s, I don’t know, approval. He wants that “good job,” but Henry doesn’t want to give it.

And then there’s Lassiter and Shawn’s talk about his arrest, and Shawn brought up that his dad did that so that he could teach him a lesson, so Lassiter was like “Well did you learn it?” And Shawn replied, “I learned that I hated my father.” Which fucking hit me so hard lmao. But then- there’s another scene later on which nobody talks about where Shawn is talking to Mr.McCallum about how he was familiar with disappointing his dad, and how McCallum killed his son, and Shawn spoke about how it was because his son kept letting him down time and time again, before saying that he’d change and he’ll be different, but then just let him down again and how it was the needle that broke the camel’s back- and he was so obviously talking about himself, and that scene was just so raw. I’m losing my mind over it.

Also, I loved officer Allan so much even though she only got, like, two scenes, haha. I wish that she got more than one episode. And it was weird not to see Juliet in this one, haha.

Anyways, there’s so many other scenes that I love, like the shooting range scene, the scene with the guy sneezing on the chicken, Shawn showing Gus the office, Shawn telling the guy to get rid of the shards on his sleeves only for him to brush them onto his leg and boot. Shawn pretending to be Psychic for the first time and working through it. Basically, the entire episode, lmao.

And, yeah, that’s everything I have to say I think. And if you could leave your own thoughts in like, the comments/ a reblog, that would be really cool. Have a nice day. (And sorry that this is so long, lmao).

[amazingmsme]

Something Lost, Something Gained

AN: This fic was so much fun to write y’all have no idea! Just a lil birthday treat for myself because I’m in desperate need for more epic fics. Starts out kinda sad, but definitely doesn’t stay that way! I love these silly men so so so much!

Today's date crept up far sooner than Odysseus could've imagined, and when he made the realization, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Today was Telemachus's 10th birthday. 10 long, arduous years spent away from his family. 10 long years Penelope had to raise their son alone. 10 long years without a father...

Odysseus slammed his fork on the table, making everyone jump and all conversation cease as the captain shoved his plate away, "I'm not hungry. Feel free to help yourself."

Polites watched, dumbfounded as Odysseus stormed away for seemingly no reason. When he turned back, Elpenor had already claimed Odysseus's plate as his own.

Polites stood to follow, hesitating as he looked at the table. He shoved his plate over to Eurylochus. "Watch my plate, I'll be right back." As he walked away, Elpenor already made a grab at his plate just for show. Eurylochus created a protective wall around both plates with his arms, hunched over and shoving Elpenor away with every attempt.

Polites followed him to the upper deck. He was stood at the front railing of the ship, staring at the horizon.

"So... wanna tell me what all that was about?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

"Not really."

"Well that's okay, you don't ha-"

"It's Telemachus's birthday," Odysseus suddenly spoke, cutting him off. Polites blinked in surprise at the unexpected confession.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"You know, you're allowed to be upset about missing out," Polites said, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Odysseus heaved a heavy sigh.

"But it's not just this one. I've missed all of them," he spoke through clenched teeth, and he gripped the railing so hard his knuckles turned white. Polites lowered his hand to rest atop Odysseus's.

"Not by choice though. And he knows that," Polites insisted as his friend looked at him with sad, tired eyes.

"Does it make a difference if he's never even seen my face?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"I think it does..."

"Yeah, well... I don't." He pushed away from the railing, starting to walk away when Polites called out to him.

"Odysseus, wait!"

Said man stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face his friend. When Polites didn't speak, Odysseus gave a confused shrug, tossing his hands in the air as he waited for an answer. He finally found the words he'd been searching for.

"Telemachus knows you love him."

A painful sob lodged itself in Odysseus's throat, large enough to choke him. "How?"

"You don't think Penelope told him every day? That she didn't make sure that he knows you didn't have a choice?" Polites asked, desperate to get through to him.

His shoulders sag, "I do, but-"

"But what?"

"I don't wanna get my hopes up."

"Odysseus, please-"

"I've missed his entire life, Polites. A kid doesn't just forget that sort of thing. It hurts." Odysseus took a shaky, shuddering breath. "And I wouldn't blame him if he hates me for it."

Polites felt his heart break just a little hearing the words leave his friend's lips. "You can't say that!"

"Why not? He has every reason to resent me!" he exclaimed, holding his arms out to the side dramatically to make his point.

"Only if you give him one!" Polites argued, and for once in his life, Odysseus shut up. "But I know you won't. Because you're a good person Odysseus," he insisted, even as he snorted and looked away. "You're a good captain, and an even greater friend," he started, smiling when he saw the hint of a blush grace his friend's cheeks, so he continued. "I wouldn't really know, but I assume you're a good husband," he took the opportunity to tease, relishing in the way Odysseus chuckled and shoved his shoulder. "So I know you're going to be an amazing father," he finished off by gripping his friend by the arm, pulling him close to press their foreheads together. "I just know it."

They stayed like that for a few seconds before Odysseus pulled away, patting him on the shoulder. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Now go finish your food before someone else does."

Polites chuckled at his attempt at a joke, relieved to see the hint of a smile on his face, however small it may be.

"Whatever you say Captain."

~~~

The rest of the day went on as usual with everyone carrying out their daily tasks. Most of the crew seemingly forgot about Odysseus's earlier outburst, much to his relief. But he still made a point to avoid as many people as possible. He couldn't trust himself not to snap.

Eurylochus had been watching the captain from afar, having sensed something was wrong, but not wanting to pry. So he kept his distance, observing every sigh, every downtrodden glance. He knew it wasn't really in his place to ask.

So he went to the only person who would.

"So... what's eating him?" he asked, sidling up next to Polites and nodding in the direction of their captain. He followed his gaze and sighed.

"I don't really know if I should say. But, it's just you, I don't think he'd be too upset," he said, biting his lower lip in thought. He leaned in, motioning for Eurylochus to do the same.

"Today is his son's birthday, and it's really getting to him."

"I see," Eurylochus nodded in understanding. "That would be hard on anyone."

"Yeah, but he seemed really torn up about it," Polites said, tracing the wood grain beneath his fingers. "I just wish there was a way to cheer him up."

Eurylochus watched him from the corner of his eye. "Maybe there is."

~~~

They waited until after dinner to execute their plan, noticing the way Odysseus skipped that meal as well. They went about the ship, gathering the needed supplies for their surprise. When Odysseus would get close to catching them, they'd take turns causing a distraction. Finally, they were ready.

"Odysseus, can you come here for a second? I need to show you something," Polites said casually so as not to stir suspicion.

"Of course. Everything alright? I feel like I've barely seen you today," he noted. Polites felt his heart race in his chest, hoping Odysseus hadn't caught on.

"Yup, everything's fine! Just been busy, that's all," he said, guiding him below deck, stopping in front of a familiar door.

Odysseus arched a brow, barely holding back a smirk.

"You brought me to my room?" he asked skeptically, though clearly amused to some degree.

"Just go inside!"

"What? You telling me I need to go to bed or something?" he teased, but opened the door nonetheless.

He was greeted by scraps of rope tied in fancy knots hanging from the ceiling, a wine barrel, and... Eurylochus with a plate of food?

"Um... what's all this?" he asked, looking between the two with a bewildered smirk.

"A party!" Polites exclaimed. "What's it look like?"

"Not like any party I've ever seen," he taunted, finally stepping inside, closing the door behind him.

"We had to work with what we have," Eurylochus explained, lips tugging into a smile as he held out the plate of food. "Here, thought you might be hungry."

"Thanks," he accepted the food and sat on the edge of his bed, facing his friends. "You know, you didn't have to do this."

"Obviously! We did it because we care about you!" Polites chirped, taking a seat next to his friend while Eurylochus sat on the floor, leaning back against the desk.

"And we don't like seeing you upset," Eurylochus added. "So we thought you could use some cheering up," he said truthfully.

"I guess a little fun wouldn't hurt," he admitted. Polites snorted, nudging their shoulders together.

"Well don't sound so happy about it!" he teased, poking fun at his reluctant response. He chuckled and shoved him away as he took a bite of jerky.

"Oh I won't, believe me," he shot back, but he was already starting to loosen up.

He really started letting go after a few glasses of wine. Needless to say, they were getting rather loud and rambunctious as the night wore on. They passed around a cup, dipping it straight from the barrel. They laughed and shared stories, the sounds of their merriment faintly echoing down the hall, grabbing the attention of a certain passerby.

"Having a party without me?" Elpenor asked from the doorway before inviting himself in.

"Not at all! Just a... private little engagement," Polites slurred before breaking off into giggles as he bumped into Elpenor when sat amongst them.

"Well, care for one more?"

Odysseus shrugged, handing him the cup. "Sure, I don't see why not. The more the merrier, right?" He was met with a drunken chorus of agreement.

"Couldn't agree more," Elpenor said before downing the cup's contents, starting to play catch up. Before he knew it, he was just as drunk as the rest of them.

"So, you feeling any better?" Polites asked during a lull in conversation.

"You know what? I am, actually," Odysseus admitted freely, a wide smile stretched across his face. Polites and Eurylochus shared a proud look, clasping their hands together in a moment of mutual celebration and gratitude.

"And here I was, wondering what the hell you two were planning," Elpenor shook his head with a chuckle. "You could've asked me for help!" he whined, stretching out to nudge Eurylochus's leg with his foot.

"That would've been counterintuitive, we were trying to keep it a surprise," he taunted, smirking at the scoff that left his lips.

"You guys really didn't have to do this," Odysseus said in a slightly softer voice, head angled down towards the floor so he didn't have to look at anyone directly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome!" Polites exclaimed before tackling him in a hug. Elpenor piled on top, dragging Eurylochus in after him because it just wouldn't feel right leaving him out.

"By the Gods, you're crushing me!" Odysseus wheezed out through drunken chuckles.

"What's that? Crush you more?" Eurylochus asked, pressing more of his body weight against the dogpile. He was met with a slew of groans and a shrieky, "Don't you dare!"

"Okay, okay," he relented, starting to crawl off of them, Elpenor following suit.

Polites started to sit up, resting a hand on Odysseus to push himself up. His hand slipped and shoved itself under his arm and Odysseus immediately barked out a laugh, pressing his arm to his side, "Noho don't!"

Polites sat up, hold his hands out as a sign of surrender. "Sorry, it was a genuine accident."

"Yeah, that's what you always say," Odysseus accused, and a curious Elpenor popped over Polites's shoulder.

"What's an accident?" he asked, looking between the two.

"My hand slipped and I guess it tickled," Polites answered casually, as if this wasn't the best news Elpenor had ever heard.

"Oh, you guess," Odysseus couldn't help but mock under his breath, but Elpenor talked right over him.

"You mean he's ticklish and you didn't fucking tell me?" he exclaimed, voice cracking slightly in his drunken state. He reached out and shoved Polites as "punishment" for keeping such valuable information from him. He was already reaching out for him, and Odysseus tucked his knees to his chest just in time before he could latch on.

"Elpenor, no," he warned, but there was a wide, nervous smile stretched across his face. He held his arms in front of himself protectively, quick to smack away the approaching hand.

"Elpenor yes!" he exclaimed, giggling at the way Odysseus crawled away from him.

"Seriously! I'm too drunk to try an' fight you off," he slurred, kicking a leg out to keep him at bay.

"That sounds like a perfect opportunity to me," he chirped, not deterred in the slightest. Odysseus tried to scramble to his feet to make a run for it, but as soon as he stood on his knees, Eurylochus gently shoved him back down.

"Traitor, the hell's that for?"

"Thought maybe we could cheer you up," he shrugged, not even bothering to hide his smirk.

"But you already did!" he tried to justify, but his pleas fell on def ears.

"Maybe we just want you to be extra happy!" Polites teased, slinging an arm around his shoulder, ruffling his hair as he did so.

Odyssues brushed him off. "You started this..." he accused, though he didn't sound mad.

"Technically Elpenor did," Polites corrected.

"Yeah, don't give him credit!" he mock scolded, reaching out to poke his stomach. He flinched away with a slight giggle, a hand reaching down to shove him away while the other hid his wine-flushed face and bright smile. Encouraged, Elpenor poked him again, and again in rapid succession until Odysseus fell on his side in a fit of bubbly, drunken giggles.

"I can't believe I've been afraid to get revenge all this time! You have a lot to answer for!" he teased, scribbling from his sides to his stomach. He looked at the other two and scoffed, "What are you waiting for? An invitation?"

"No no no dohohohon't lihihisten to hihihim!" Odysseus pleaded, but the smile on his face was too encouraging for his friends to listen.

"We're just gonna make sure that good mood is here to stay," Polites reasoned, shooting him a playful wink.

"It will! I promise!"

Eurylochus chuckled as he ruffled his hair, even using him to lean against, "For some reason, I seriously doubt that."

"You too, Eurylochus?" Odysseus huffed and pulled away, causing him to stumble slightly.

"Hey!"

"Hey yourself! Three against one is so unfair!" he whined in hopes of masking his giddy excitement.

"You're so right, three against one is pretty unfair, isn't it?" Elpenor asked with mock sympathy. Odysseus eyed him skeptically leaning as far from him as possible.

"Um... why are you agreeing with me?"

Elpenor placed a condescending hand on his shoulder as he shook his head slowly, "Oh Odysseus, you're not too drunk to remember all the times you three ganged up on me, are you?"

Memomories came flooding back in a fuzzy haze; ones of Elpenor pinned to the ground, screaming for mercy through shrill hysterics. A sly, proud grin found its way to the captain's lips.

"Yeah, but you make for such an easy target," he taunted. Elpenor's jaw dropped in shock at the sheer audacity before he lurched forward, latching onto his sides with scribbling fingers. He was way too drunk to have any hope of holding back his laughter as bright, carefree cackles fell past his lips. He was apologizing profusely the very moment he touched him.

"You know, if you wanted me to just start, all you had to do was ask," Elpenor spoke smugly. Odysseus shook his head, slapping away exploring hands.

"Nah, he just likes to dig his own grave. Right Captain?" Eurylochus asked, scratching the nape of his neck. Odysseus snapped his head back with choked back snickers, his nose scrunched adorably.

"Ihihi dohoho nohohot!" he cried, somehow even his mirth sounds indignant as he complained weakly.

"Come on Odysseus, you know you kinda do," Polites teased, squeezing his knee and drawing out a snort.

"Wait wait, do that again!" Elpenor demanded. Polites grinned as he repeated the motion, and another giggly snort escaped their friend.

"Oh, you didn't know he did that?"

"No," Elpenor practically purred, cocking his head to look at the giggly mess their captain had become. "I didn't. And you were giving me a hard time," he taunted, scratching behind his other knee. Odysseus kicked his legs frantically, burying his face in his hands to hide from the giddy embarrassment.

"A-ahahat least mine's ahaha normal spohohot!" he snapped through his hysterics.

"Hey, don't bully him, you fucking hypocrite!" Polites mock scolded, managing to trap his foot in a headlock. The obvious move would be to go for the sole of the foot, but his fingers stopped just short, tracing slow circles around his ankle. Odysseus tugged on his trapped leg with renewed strength, helpless snickers tumbling out. Though no matter which way he thrashed, their hands remained glued to his skin.

Elpenor made note of where Polites was tickling and arched a brow, glancing at Odysseus with a look that was half skeptical, half severely amused. "Ankles? Really?"

"S-shuhuhut UHUHUP!" he cried, screeching when he drilled his thumbs in his hips in retaliation.

"I wouldn't be so bossy if I were you."

"You know what? I agree!" Polites exclaimed, grabbing ahold of his other leg to give his left ankle the same treatment.

"You ahahasshole!" he yelped as blunt nails traced thin skin stretched over bone. Polites let out an exaggerated gasp at his words.

"Excuse me?" he asked, and by the playfully indignant tone in his voice, Odysseus knew he was in trouble. "I throw my best friend a party to cheer him up, and I'm an asshole?" Polites growled, squeezing up his calves.

Odysseus arched his back with a surprised squeal, kicking and thrashing as much as he could, but he remained pinned. Maybe if he weren't so drunk, he would've stood half a chance.

"Wow," Eurylochus tutted, shaking his head, but it was downed out by Elpenor's sarcastic little quip, "Some crimes can never be forgiven."

Both Elpenor and Odysseus giggled at the joke while Polites shared a fondly annoyed look with Eurylochus.

"Aren't they just a piece of work?" Polites asked, hands resting on his hips to give Odysseus a break.

"Little bit," Eurylochus agreed with a warm smile, chuckling at the tandem cry of "Hey!" that their words sparked. He returned to the task at hand, lightly pinching up and down Odysseus's ribs, making him yelp and twist side to side.

"Nohoho dohon't!" he giggled, tugging on his trapped arms.

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't," he bargained, not even bothering to hide his smirk.

"Oho come ohohohon!" Odysseus whined, tossing his head back in frustration. "It tickles, that's why!" he snapped, but the flush to his cheeks and wide grin took away any bite his words would've had.

"Do not let him off that easy!" Elpenor exclaimed, delivering a barrage of pokes and scribbles to his belly. Odysseus buried his face in the crook of his arm, desperate to hide the deep chuckles and snorts that escaped their usual prison.

Eurylochus raised a brow at Elpenor's adamant insistence. "And why not, exactly?"

"He's so mean to me!" he exclaimed, borderline whining.

"You deserve ihihit most of thehe time!" Odysseus spoke up through choked back giggles.

"More like only half!" Elpenor corrected, kneading his sides to effectively make him shut up. If he could talk, they weren't doing their job right. In his opinion, anyway. His hands traveled down, relentlessly squeezing his hips before moving on to his thighs.

Odysseus snorted and threw his head back as carefree belly laughs escaped his lungs. His feet drummed against the floor and he bucked for any kind of leverage.

“Nohot there, NOHOHOT THERE! Elpenor stohoHOHOP!” Odysseus shrieked as he squeezed just above his knees. He relented and decided to trace the backs of his knees, which might as well be just as bad.

“So, are you having fuuuun?” Polites asked, leaning in with a teasing grin as his fingers slipped inside his sandals, tickling the trapped soles. Odysseus kicked and cackled in response.

“Whahahat?” he cried out, cheeks flushing almost as dark as the wine they drank.

“He definitely sounds like he’s having fun,” Elpenor chimed in.

“But you’re not still sad anymore, right? Did we tickle it out of you yet?” Polites continued to tease, scratching his arch with blunt nails.

“Ohoho fuck you, yehehes, okahahay? I’m hahahappy you sahadistic assholes!” he yelled through his laughter, and they finally showed mercy. He curled in a protective ball as residual giggles stumbled out.

“That’s all we ever wanted,” Polites chirped, doing a poor job hiding how smug he felt as he threw his arms around his friend in a bear hug, nuzzling into his neck. Odysseus giggled and scrunched his neck, shoving him away by the face.

“Speak for yourself! That little shit wanted nothing but revenge,” he pointed an accusatory finger at an admittedly very guilty Elpenor.

“Yeah, and I still got a lot to make up for,” he promised, smirk firmly in place.

“Seriously though. Did you like your party?” Polites asked, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I really did,” Odysseus nodded, a softer smile finding his face. He glanced up, looking at his three friends. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“What can we say? That’s what friends are for,” Polites shrugged and returned his warm smile.

“Just- yeah. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

“Yeah, seriously, anytime,” Elpenor butted in, skittering a few fingers across his belly. Odysseus jerked away with a surprised shriek as he grappled with the hands.

He managed to snatch one up and scribble over his palms, sending him into a panicky giggle fit as a string of apologies fell past his lips. Odysseus let him go, snickering to himself when he heard Elpenor mutter under his breath, rubbing at his hand.

“Well, it’s pretty late. Guess we should all turn in for the night,” Eurylochus spoke up when he saw Odysseus yawn, which sparked a chain reaction. Only now did it set in how bone tired they truly were.

They stumbled to their feet, beginning the drunken bumbling walk to their respective rooms. Polites lingered in the doorway, watching Odysseus with fond look in his eyes that was mirrored back at him.

“I really meant it. Thank you. For… everything,” he admitted, ducking his head as that creeping blush returned. “I uh. I needed that.”

Polites grinned wider and shrugged. “I know.”

“Yeah yeah,” he waved him off, before the realization set in. “Wait, what?”

“G’night see ya tomorrow byeeeee!” Polites rushed out his words before rushing out the door. Odysseus rolled his eyes, knowing he’d get back at them tomorrow. Which was technically today. Damn was he tired after that…

But there was one last thing he needed to do. He didn’t know if it would work, if he’d even hear him, or even agree to this favor. Still, he knelt in the center of his room, a few pieces of paper and a toy wooden horse spread out before him. He pressed his hands together, taking a deep breath. He closed his eyes and prayed.

“Hermes, if you can hear me… All I ask is for you to deliver this to my family. I haven’t seen them in what feels like forever, and today is my son’s birthday. And, well… I just thought it would be nice for him to have a gift from his father.”

He heaved a sigh and stood, making his way to his bed. He collapsed face down, falling asleep almost immediately.

Sometime in the middle of the night, a cloaked figure snuck into his room. An answer to a prayer.

Hermes nearly tripped over some of the fallen decorations, but he swiftly managed to avoid them. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. He folded the letters and picked up the hand carved toy. He studied it for a moment, running his hands over the smooth wood.

“You did good. Think he’ll really love it,” Hermes praised aloud, though he knew Odysseus couldn’t really hear him. He dropped the items in his satchel, walking over to the unconscious man. He squatted down so he could be more level with him. His snores were loud and deep, indicating a peaceful slumber after such an ordeal.

“You have some good friends, I hope you know,” he mused, glancing at his sleeping form, noticing the gentle smile that still lingered. He chuckled and shook his head, “Oh who am I kidding, of course you know.”

He stood up, slinging his satchel over his shoulder. “Well, I guess I won’t keep your son waiting.” And with that, he left, dashing into the night.

When Odysseus awoke, he immediately noticed the offerings he’d laid out were gone. He smiled to himself, sitting up in bed as he sent out a silent prayer in thanks.

And in a palace across the seas, Telemachus woke up to a new toy sitting on his bedside table, along with a written letter from his father.

[apomaro-mellow]

Part 2

This is Part 3 (Fluffy) for Part 3 (Smutty) go here

"It's just you and me, Steve."

Steve took in a breath and then turned around. "Yeah, that's right. And let's get one thing straight here. Even if you are actually Eddie, if I get one whiff of trouble, I'm torching your ass."

Kas held his hands up. "I can behave. But tell me if you change your mind. Soooo", he stepped closer to Steve. A move that was getting very common at this point. "What's first on the agenda tonight?"

"First", Steve put a hand to Kas' chest before he could get too close. "We're gonna hit the showers."

Kas waggled his brows and Steve wondered if this was how girls felt when he laid it on thick. "Separately! I've got more than one shower! And you stink of the Upside Down."

He was probably going to burn those clothes. Not just from the stench but from the less than pleasant memories. They were pretty much just tatters of what Eddie had been wearing last. Steve got him set up in the guest bathroom and even left a change of clothes for him before going to wash up himself.

Alone in the shower, everything came to the forefront of his mind. Most especially how he was supposed to live with the literal ghost of Eddie that was blatantly flirting with him. He was lucky the kids didn't really notice because he was never going to hear the end of it when they did.

Steve didn't want to think about it but it was hard when the subject was just down the hall. Someone using Eddie's face to flirt with him so openly was harder to take than he ever thought. Not that he tried to think of it often.

While Steve was in the bargaining stage, Eddie and Kas were having their own conversation in the shower.

"You're really pushing your luck here", Eddie said, pacing around in their shared mental space. He hated it here. He hated not being in control of his own body. He really hated how this guy was ruining the tentative friendship he had formed with Steve.

"I'm not ruining anything", Kas said, responding to his unheard meltdown. "If anything, I'm helping us."

"Help?! Helping? Oh you think you're helping. Steve isn't like that, okay? And when you, when you-"

"Woo him?"

Eddie rolled his eyes. Talking to himself was too bizarre. "You're gonna make him hate us. And honestly, I'd rather be dead."

While they were speaking, Kas was dutifully washing his body, taking more care than Eddie normally did. He had a pretty boy to impress after all.

"You're not letting yourself see because you don't wanna accept it. But Steve is definitely not going to hate us."

After his shower, he put on the clothes Steve had laid out, which consisted of a dark blue t-shirt and gray sweats. When he left the bathroom, he went to where he heard Steve, who seemed to be talking to someone downstairs. Kas only heard him, so it must be someone on the phone.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I can take care of the house until then. Bye Mom."

Kas came fully down the stairs and both the inside and outside of him wanted to kiss the sadness off of Steve's face. But Eddie kept holding him back. So he did wanted he wanted to do the second most.

"What's got a pretty thing like you so glum?"

Steve rolled his eyes but otherwise didn't rise to that. "Just my parents. When they heard about the earthquakes, they really wanted me to go to them. They're trying to sell the house too but no one wanted to live in Hawkins before. And now..."

"What? No one wants to live in the town that just had an earthquake? What's the appeal of California then?"

Steve grinned, then looked at him strange. "Eddie?"

"Yeah? ....Wait, holy shit!", Eddie looked down at himself and then pulled at his own cheeks, the first action he took as his own since coming back.

"So it really is you?", Steve put his hands on Eddie's shoulders and looked him over. "How? What did you do?"

"I don't really know." Eddie tried to think of how they switched and the only conclusion he had was he and Kas both thought the same thing and wanted to do the same thing. "That son of a bitch was right I guess. He is just a part of me. But how could you tell the difference?"

"That was the first thing you've said that actually sounded like you." Steve's hands slid down his arms and then he pulled away with a subtle cough. To Eddie he looked beautifully bashful and especially soft in his own sleepwear, a white t-shirt and shorts. Eddie wanted to tell him so many things but he knew any one of them could ruin the moment and worse, ruin what they had so he kept them down.

But pushing those thoughts down pulled Kas up and when he blinked, Eddie was in the backseat again.

"I always sound like me, Steve. I told you already. I'm just Eddie without the filter."

"You're not", Steve countered. "Eddie would never say the things you say. Or do them." He moved away from Kas to start wrapping up the leftovers.

"You sound so sure", Kas said, following right behind him. He watched for a moment as Steve worked and then sidled right up to him, waiting for him to turn to the side. When he finally did, Kas smirked.

"Hey there big boy."

Steve let out a huff. "It's different when you say it", he said as he turned away and put the food in the fridge.

"How so?"

With more force than necessary, he closed the fridge and mumbled something. Kas was pretty sure he heard it, but he of course had Eddie's sadistic side and wanted to confirm.

"What did you say?"

"I said it's because you mean it!", Steve whirled on him. "Eddie says those things to be funny. You're trying to get me to believe in it. That's how I know you're just some trick made up by Vecna."

"I'm no one's puppet. I pull my own strings."

"Oh you fuckin hypocrite", Eddie put his face in his hands, feeling very much like a marionette right now.

"You're controlling Eddie right now", Steve said and Eddie wanted to drop to his knees and praise him.

"What's it gonna take for you to get that I'm just as much Eddie as the one you know?"

"When I hear it from his own mouth."

Kas rolled his eyes. "He already-"

"Not that." Steve closed the space between them, practically pinning Kas to the counter. "If Eddie really feels what you've been laying down, I need to hear it from him. Not a supernatural mouthpiece."

He waited but Kas was just staring in an expression that was almost like Eddie's, but still not there. Maybe they were fighting for control. That felt like enough of an answer for him.

"That's what I thought." He took a step back and turned away. "I'm not Eddie's type and you're not gonna convince me otherwise."

And then he bent over to grab something from under the sink and Kas wanted to do something and Eddie was too weak to stop him, impulse control never being his strong suit.

So together they smacked him on the ass.

Steve shot up, face red. "What the hell!"

"How do you know what my type is?"

"Wha?"

Eddie put his hands on either side of the sink, caging him in. "I said, how do you know what my type is?"

"I highly doubt it's washed up high school royalty or past his prime jock."

"Baby, there is nothing about you that is 'washed up' or 'past prime'. You're top of the line."

Steve tried to turn his face but Eddie grabbed his chin and made their eyes meet. "You're my type. It's Steve Harrington or nothing for me."

"It's really you....And you really think all that?"

Eddie bit his lip and fought back the urge to hide away, knowing if he did Kas would take his place immediately. "I do. Always have been."

"Soo, all those times Kas called me pretty, that was you?"

Eddie nodded.

"And when he felt my leg up at dinner?"

Eddie nodded again, face turning ever redder.

"And when Kas said he wanted to kiss me?"

"He never said!-oh." Eddie then realized Steve had his hands on his chest and was looking at him in a way that could only be described as longing. And as said before, he was really bad at impulse control. And this was something both sides of him wanted.

When they kissed he felt refreshed just like the shower he'd just taken. Everything was washed away and replaced with Steve. Steve who was kissing him back and had his hands twisting in his shirt before moving to encircle him. And that was what cinched it for him. Steve really wanted this, wanted him.

He pushed his tongue inside, drawing out a moan and then Steve broke apart just a bit to catch his breath, something Eddie didn't really need to do anymore but he gave him a little mercy and pecked at his jaw a few times before claiming his lips again.

They heard the doorbell ring. Then they heard knocking. Then they heard the doorbell and knocking.

"Door...", Steve moaned, a little kiss drunk.

Eddie knew it must be someone coming to check on them. Kas knew that Steve's neck was looking a little too pristine and sought to rectify that. The moment he felt that soft skin under his lips, Eddie was in agreement. He kissed like a thirsty man taking his first cool sip and only Steve's fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him back made him stop.

"Later", Steve promised, crooking his fingers under his chin before moving away from him to answer the door. He had the foresight to take a kitchen towel and put his around his neck. Steve couldn't see if there were actually hickeys but he could feel them.

He barely cracked the door before Robin was barreling in.

"The guys told me everything and I can't believe they left you here alone. I mean, I can. But they don't know what I know and-"

"Robin, slow down."

She did in fact slow down just long enough to take him in, was about to speak again when she caught sight of Eddie coming out of the kitchen to lean against the way, looking absolutely love sick.

"There's....a weird energy here right now. Steve, I need bed clothes. Let's go." Robin started up the stairs and Steve shrugged before following her.

"You know where to look to find clothes", he said as they made it to his room.

She went behind him to shut the door and then whipped the towel off his neck. "I knew it!", she hissed quietly so that their guest wouldn't hear.

"Please don't start."

"I'm just saying I was right to come. Before you gave yourself over to this Casey guy."

"Kas."

"Whatever."

"I wasn't about to 'give myself over'. What do you take me for?"

Robin went over to his dresser and started to take out something to sleep in. "Steve, I'm going to say this with love."

"Ugh", he groaned as he fell against the bed.

"In all ways but physical you are one of those romance heroines with the low cut dress falling to the whims of a guy with an equally low cut shirt."

"I am not!"

Robin ignored him as she changed out of her clothes and put on some of Steve's.

"Robin, I am not."

She still ignored him as she went to brush her teeth. And Steve followed behind her.

"Robs, I am nothing like those trashy romance novels."

"Knock, knock", Eddie said as he rapped his knuckles against the closed door.

Steve opened it and leaned against the doorway. "Hey."

"Hey."

There was a pregnant pause before Robin appeared to end it. "Guest room's down the hall. Get yourself a good night's sleep whoever you are." She shut the door and crossed her arms at Steve.

Steve put his hands together. "You're my friend-"

"And I'm doing a friend's job."

"Which is?"

"Protecting your virtue. Making sure you don't make bad decisions and jump on the first dick that points in your direction."

Steve had the decency to blush at that. He hadn't been planning on it, but then again he hadn't been planning on making out with Eddie either.

They heard a scratching sound, like a dog pawing at the door.

"Good night, Munson!", Robin called out, even turning off the lights in Steve's room.

They heard him shuffle off and that got Steve to settle in bed along with Robin, ready to tell her how his evening went.

Part 4

Tag Team

@jestyzesty @anaibis @cassaloopa @epiclazershark @xtkxkrzrizir

@bisexualdisastersworldd @sadbitchfangirl @mentalcyborg @sidekick-hero @spectrum-spectre @xenon-demon

@pyrohonk @books-and-current-obsessions @deadontheinside20 @cuips-not-cute @awkwardgravity1 @thebrazilianatheist @mentallyundone @thev01dd @ilikechocolatemilkh @snakeorsquid @boop369 @cmackz93 @aizawa-emma

@mightbeasleep

@spooky-mulders

[thenumber-e]

OKOKOK!! Gimme all ur Craig family headcanons, cousins, etc! 🥺💖

GASP my favorite thing ever i have an entire google doc dedicated to this shit i fucking love this family tree

ok starting off with the whole family lore to make this easier

thomas is craig’s biological father, aka why they look pretty much identical in post covid. though craig is from a previous marriage, and this also feeds into a different headcanon so yeah. basically, thomas’s previous wife was lilith marsh- randy’s sister. her and thomas later divorce when craig is about two, and thomas gets custody. he later married laura, they have tricia, and then yeah that’s how the tuckers came to be.

back to lilith. she’s randy’s sister, meaning craig and stan are in fact cousins. they also looks realllyyyy similar.

anyways i’m going back to thomas. his brother is skeeter, hence them looking really similar. so that means skeeter is craig’s uncle, and him and red are cousins.

so yeah that’s the family tree lore, but i have so many headcanons for this so let’s see if i can remember them

so first of all, for the marshes. grandpa marshes wife, idk if she had a name or whateva i forget, im gonna call her shelly, so shelly is a family name now. basically grandpa marshes was reallyyyy short and shelly was reallyyyy tall, so the fam can go both ways. randy got the short genes, meanwhile lilith got the tall genes. so yeah, shelly and stan are really short, idk about shelly idk how tall she should be but stan is 5’4 (5’4.5)

ONE OF MY FAVORITE HEADCANONS- PERUVIAN CRAIG okokokok so basically, shelly (grandma) is peruvian, though she moved to colorado and met grandpa marsh. then yeah all that fun stuff happened. then yeah lilith was born and then she married thomas and shit and then BOOM peruvian craig. i also hc thomas having native american roots, so craig is a bit darker than his cousins

i think that’s all the lore for this so i’m just gonna do stupid headcanons now that i have in a google doc somewhere and im too lazy to edit them so just take them raw

Craig and Tricia always argue, and Craig has probably broken his nose from hitting his face on the ground after Tricia tripped him. But despite that, they’d do anything for each other. They act like they absolutely despise each other, but actually love each other more than anything. Tricia also gets along with Tweek really well, and they’ll tease him sometimes.

Laura is stepmom, not biological. Craig’s real mom was Peruvian, which Craig got that from. She also had black hair, hence Craig’s black hair. She was actually Randy’s sister. He actually doesn’t remember his mother, because his father and her got divorced when he was about two. Thomas (obviously) got custody over him. Laura is very overprotective of Craig and Tricia, but not in an annoying way, but she would definitely kill for either of them without hesitation. She can be very short tempered, which her children definitely get from her.

Thomas is actually a really good dad. His brother is Skeeter, hence them looking so much alike. Sure, he’s had his ups and down, like similar to when he first learned Craig was gay, when he learned he was also autistic, he found it hard to accept it. But of course, he knew he had to. He’s just such an awesome dad, and would do anything for his kids. Him and Craig have the average father-son bond, just a bit closer. Craig usually disappears into his room, but will gladly spend time with his father if he isn’t hanging out with his friends

Despite canonically calling her Grandma, Craig calls his grandmother Nana. His grandmother felt terrible when she learned about the Peru thing, so she insisted on giving Craig another $100. But when Craig realized he couldn’t back out of it, he took it and instead gave it to Tricia begrudgingly. She comes over a lot, usually to bake, and loves to cook and bake with Tweek.

His cousins do get a bit confusing, even to Craig. Stan is his cousin from his mothers side, and they look wicked similar. People often get the two confused. Red is Craig’s cousin from his fathers side, so both him and Tricia are related to her. Usually her and Craig get along relatively well, because Craig claims she’s a “not lame girl” unlike most of the ones in his class.

Randy is his uncle, and Craig absolutely hates him. He’s one of those uncles that tries to get the entire family to love and adore him, which is usually ruined (although it never existed) by him getting drunk and high all the time, basically ruining any bond he’s ever had. Craig doesn’t even call him ‘Uncle Randy’ or anything. Just straight up Randy. Skeeter is his other Uncle, and he usually hangs out with him along with his dad. They actually get along well, and make bets on the stupidest things, like which raindrop would win the race on the window

OK BOOM that’s the basic lore i’ll probably do more of a detailed post on family life cus i fucking love the tuckers they’re so amazing but alas i’m lazy rn so ill feed you this

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

plz ignore this if it's annoying or you don't want to answer questions like these abt your fan fic anymore, but what would have happened if Paz was alive during the "main" part of The Cabin in the Woods ? Like, let's say that instead og having died Paz simply ended up in a coma while losing her unborn kid. She stays in that coma long enough for Quaritch to lose total custody of Spider. How would she react to waking up ? How would Quaritch and Spider react to her waking up ?

Not annoying at all! I love getting questions about my fics! And I think this is such an interesting concept.

So if Paz lived but was in a coma and Quaritch still went after the drunk driver that hit her, went to prison and lost custody of Spider, first and foremost he’d be Paz’s caretaker when he got out of jail. He’d have a whole set up for taking care of her in their bedroom and teach himself everything he needed to know to best care for her. He knows there’s only a slim chance she’ll ever wake up but it’s a chance he’s willing to take.

When Quaritch puts his plan into action he takes Paz up to the cabin first. Z watches over her while Quaritch is off kidnapping Spider. The first thing Quaritch does when Spider wakes up is show him his mom. Spider had never gotten a chance to visit her before since Quaritch was her care taker and Spider had a restraining order against him. So it hits him really hard to see her. If it wasn’t for all the monitors it’d be like she’s just sleeping. But then his dad lifts the covers and shows him his mother’s mangled torso, thick red scares trailing up and down her stomach like rivers. Spider doesn’t even know how someone could survive something like that. And it infuriates him seeing the damage that was done, knowing that his mom might never wake up but still having a little hope that she might. It instantly gives him a shred of sympathy towards his dad because yeah the bastard that put his mom in a coma definitely deserved it.

Because Quaritch hopes that Paz will wake up one day, he doesn’t go about breaking down Spider in the same way he does in Cabin. Because he knows damn well that if Paz woke and saw that shit he’d be dead and buried so damn fast. So Spider gets locked in his room at night and is free to walk the house during the day though the front door is locked. Anything he could possibly use for escape is locked up and hidden. He picks fights with his dad all the time both verbal and physical. Quaritch doesn’t yell back during the verbal fights but he can come up with some extremely cutting clap backs that have nearly made Spider cry on multiple occasions. The physical fights definitely don’t go well for Spider either. Spider may be taller than his dad and packed with muscle but Quaritch is stronger and more skilled. Quaritch never hits Spider just puts him in a hold until he calms down.

The only time they’re civil with each other is when Spider is helping Quaritch take care of Paz. Spider does everything he’s told without a word. They’ll both sit with her. Talk to her. Quaritch will say how happy he is to be a family again. How she’ll be just as proud of their son as he is when she wakes up. Spider sits there, all his father’s compliments feeling like slaps to the face. He’s boiling mad and wants to hurl insults at his father but something about being in his mother’s presence makes him bite his tongue. It’s when Quaritch leaves him alone with Paz that he’ll talk to his mom. He’s cried over her a few times, wishing she was awake, admitting that he’s so scared, that he wants to go home. He even wonders aloud if his mother would approve of this. If she’d be just as bad as his father. After all they are husband and wife. Quaritch always eavesdrops on these conversations.

It’s such an amazing day when Paz wakes up. Father and son are tending to her needs, Spider is just kinda idly chatting with his mom, (“hi mama, how are you? Same as yesterday? I get that. I’ve been doing the same thing for weeks because of your shit psycho husband…” ) when Paz’s finger twitches. Father and son pause, both in disbelief over what they think they saw. Then Paz’s whole hand moves, her eyelids fluttering. Quaritch and Spider are holding their breath. And then she opens her eyes. Quaritch rushes to her side, taking her hand. He’s so deliriously happy that this day has finally come but also terrified that her mind might be gone after the accident. “Darlin’.” Paz is so confused. With her other hand she touches his face as if making sure he’s real. Quaritch closes his eyes relishing the touch he feared he might never feel again. “Honey? What happened.” Her voice is so hoarse from disuse but her words are clear. Both Spider and Quaritch sighed with relief. “There was…a car accident. You were hit by a drunk driver. You’ve been in a coma…for a real long time.” Paz is in complete shock. She looks around the room, her gaze falling on Spider. “Who’s that.” There’s a hint of fear in her voice because deep down she already knows but doesn’t want it to be true. Quaritch beckons Spider forward. The teen is too in shock to do anything but comply, letting his father take him by the arm and gently lead him closer. “I know this’ll be a shock. But it’s Miles jr. This is our son.”

Paz stares at him in total bewilderment. Her breath hitches as she reaches towards him with shaking hand. “No,” she gasps out her sobs starting in full force. “No. My baby. My baby…” Spider breaks down hearing her calling him that and practically falls right into her hands. She strokes his cheek and it fills him with more emotions than he can name, “I missed so much..” an anguished scream rips from Paz’s throat. She’s so utterly heartbroken to have missed seeing her son growing up. She also knows without having to be told that the son she was pregnant with is dead. Otherwise her husband would have called him in. She wept for both her children clutching her remaining son close as they both sob onto the other’s shoulder.

So big bittersweet family reunion. Once everything calms down Quaritch asks Spider to help him get some food going so they can have a celebratory feast. In the kitchen Quaritch throws on some music so that Paz can’t overhear the whispered conversation he has with his son, “do not tell your mama why we’re here, y’a got me? She’s been through enough today and she’s already weak enough as is.”

“What the hell do you plan on telling her!”

“The truth.”

Spider scoffs, “your truth. Not the truth.”

“Are y’a gonna do as your told or do we need to go downstairs and have a lengthier discussion.” Spider doesn’t want to find out what’s in the basement but more importantly he doesn’t want to stress his mother out and possibly put her back in her coma in her weak state. So he goes along with it for now. When his mom is stronger he’ll tell her the real truth.

So Paz has to go through a lot of physical therapy. Quaritch had Ja come up to do a physical on her and he pronounced that other then the severe muscle deterioration Paz was actually in good health. All her vitals sounded good and she wasn’t in any pain anywhere. Quaritch helps her slowly build her strength back, doting on his wife like crazy. Spider is always by her side, wanting to talk to her, get to know her, soaking up all the love his mama gives him. He sees how his father treats her, like she’s his queen, and he can’t help himself from smiling over it. His parents are just so happy together. And because Spider doesn’t want to upset his mom he plays the loyal son, talking openly with his dad, all smiles. He lets his dad ruffle his hair, pat him on the shoulder and even hug him. And as the days go by being a “happy family” Spider starts to forget it’s not real. The first time he got caught in the moment, losing himself to his feelings of safety, contentment, and love, he jolts back all emotions leaving him as he reminds himself, he’s your kidnapper and a murderer. Soon he starts losing himself multiple times a day. Then catching himself starts having less impact. And soon he’s taking walks in the woods, laughing with his parents as his dad pushed his mom in a wheelchair. Talking about his day with his parents at the dinner table as they enjoy a home cooked meal. Letting his dad help him with his homework. Sitting with his mom as she brushes and braids his hair for the day.

And then it’s time to tell Paz the “truth”. They’re all gathered around the table. Quaritch prepped Paz by telling her there was something really important for her to know. Something they’d kept from her until she was stronger. “After your accident I went after the man who hurt you. I nearly killed him. I went to jail for one year.” Paz wasn’t the least bit surprised by this. “The courts didn’t let Z or Lyle take custody of Miles,” “What!” Paz is pissed. “They took custody from me when I got out. When I knew the courts would never give him back to me, I took matters into my own hands. This cabin is built on top of a mountain. No one will ever find us here. I never stopped lookin’ out for Junior when he was in the system. We talked even though I wasn’t allowed near him,” Spider’s eyes widened. “Once I finally finished this place I brought you here, then I told Junior all about it. A place where we could be a family. He was more than happy to run away from his shitty foster family.” So this is his “truth” Spider had to admit it was a nice way of selling their isolation to his mother.

His mom turns to him, “is that true?”

Say no, part of him screams. But then what would happen. His mom was still too weak to walk. And his father had made it clear plenty of times that Spider was no match for him. If he revealed the truth and Quaritch got violent he wouldn’t be able to defend his mother. So he forces a smile and says, “yeah ma, it’s true.”

Paz smiles, “It’s almost like the whole world wanted to tear our family apart. Well fuck the world. We won! We’re together now. Nothing will ever tear us apart again.”

Father and son side eye each other. “Yeah ma,” Spider says, “nothing at all.”

Thank you so much for the question! This was a really fun concept for me so I hope you enjoyed it.💙

[stuckonmain]

On the Road to Nowhere

2012 Raph x Reader

Mutant Apocalypse timeline

Summary: After the mutagen bomb goes off, you manage to save Raph and Donnie. Sort of. Dealing with new bodies, memory loss, missing brothers and friends...was maybe not how any of you wanted your adult lives to go, but the world has changed beyond repair.

So with a heavy heart, you and your battered dream team set off onto the road to nowhere.

In other words, the early days of the Mutant Apocalypse.

Warnings: Angst, sadness, the characters cry a lot, bittersweet ending, really hefty word count, implied capriltello but it's in the background, Raphael is trans in this because it's my fic and my rules

Word count: 13.6k

***

Day 0.

  Donnie was hooked up to some machine of theirs, trying as hard as he could to save his brain as their body was mangled beyond repair, Casey was texting you nonstop, Mikey and Leo were MIA, Raph was curled up on the couch, and you were sitting on the floor trying to process everything.

CaseyjONES:

R you guys okay??? No ones responding. Me and april are at my house 

CaseyjONES:

(Y/N) seriously what’s going on? I know you can see this i see your read symbol

CaseyjONES:

Where are you guys???

  Oh yeah. Now that you were done attaching Donnie to his one shot at survival, you could stop ignoring Casey’s texts. Nice.

You:

Sorry Case’ I was kinda preoccupied for a bit there

You:

Leo n Mikey are missing. Donnie and I retreated back into the lair. Raph is freaking out, I think he hit his head. Would ask Dee, but Dee is compromised. 

CaseyjONES:

Compromised???

You:

They fell off a building and got impaled. Is currently uploading his consciousness into an old Metalhead prototype. Very horrifying to witness. Status update, I feel like throwing up.

CaseyjONES:

…

CaseyjONES:

Shit

You:

Shit indeed

You: 

Anyways, I’m mostly uninjured. Arm mighta gotten mildly sprained but y’know what i’ll worry bout that later. Lair is a mess, only thing really salvageable was the lab. Probably gonna leave as soon as dee is stable. How are you guys?

CaseyjONES:

My sister got mutated. Last thing she touched was our cat so now she’s got claws. Shes freakin out and aprils trying to calm her down with empath powers or whatever. My dad is MIA but good riddance if ya ask me. Broke mty arm so im typing this with 1 hand, and april sprained her ankel. The cat has miraculously survived + is sittig w/ me on the couch wich is pretty cool ngl

You:

So youre all stable???

CaseyjONES:

Yea

You:

Oh thank god

You: 

Cas my phones about to die. Dee n i will contact ya soon as theyre stable. Love ya. Stay safe or i’ll kill u

CaseyjONES:

Cool cool. Love you too. keep everyone+urself safe. Hopefully we;ll see yo soon.

  You sighed as your phone clicked off, definitively cutting off your final connection to your friends.

  Raph whimpered behind you in one of the most un-Raph like ways you’d ever heard, and you turned around.

  “Raph? You okay?” You rasped.

  He was curled around himself tightly, rocking back and forth.

  “Who the fuck are you?” He whispered, tears in his eyes.

  You winced. You were guessing he had some form of amnesia, or some kind of damage to the hippocampus.

   “I’m (Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N). You’re my best friend, but I think you hit your head in all the chaos.” You said slowly, feeling your heart sink even further.

  He gave a strangled sob and shoved his face into his knee pads. “I hate this. Who the fuck am I?”

  “You’re Raphael Hamato. You’re the son of Splinter or Hamato Yoshi. You’re the brother of Donatello, Leonardo, and Michelangelo, and the father of Chompy Picasso. You’re the best friend ever to me. You hit your head when Leo saved us from the mutagen bomb. I’m pretty sure it is currently the end of the known world.” You answered slowly, robotically. You were half-aware of how you were saying it for your own sanity as much as you were for Raph’s.

  “Where are we?” Raph said, voice trembling in a way that seemed so out of character.

  “Your home. Well. Sorta. It kinda got partially destroyed, there were a lotta cave ins.” You said numbly, standing up. “D’ya wanna tour? See if it…I’unno, sparks a few memories?”

  He pressed his shell to the back of the couch, scooting away from you. “D’you think that’ll help? …How do I know I can trust you?”

  “...C’mere.” You said, waving towards Donnie’s bulletin board in the back of the lab. Hesitantly, Raph followed after you, though not without a groan of pain.

  “That’s you.” You murmured, unpinning a photo of a smiling Raph and Casey as they posed in front of a wall you’d all spray painted. “I took this photo when we were fifteen, about three years ago. That human is Casey Jones, our close friend.”

  Raph took the photo, squeezing it lightly in his shaky hands. “Show me another.” He demanded.

  “Here’s you and I at the farmhouse.” You smiled fondly at the memory. “I was bored and convinced you to let me give you eyeliner.” Photo-Raph was scowling at the camera, with his arms crossed and pointy winged liner around his eyes. Photo-you was grinning proudly, holding the eyeliner pen with one hand and giving photo-Raph a side-hug with the other.

  Real-Raph accepted the photo. “That’s me, then?”

  “Yeah.” 

  “Why don’t I look like you and this guy?”

  “We’re humans. You’re a mutant.” You said simply. “A turtle/human hybrid, like your siblings.” 

  You pointed to a group shot. “The one with the blue mask is Leonardo, orange is Mikey, and purple is…uhm. Well, purple was Donnie...” You said, trying to choke back tears as you stared at the photo. “I-is any of this…y’know, ringing any bells?” You managed to mumble out through your tears. 

  Raph shook his head. “No.”

  “Oh.” You said, feeling a fresh new wave of dread wash over you. You took a deep breath. “Well. That’s not ideal.” 

  “Where are the other…turtles?” Asked Raph, clearly hesitant to call these supposed strangers his siblings, which nearly broke you even further.

  “Mikey and Leo are missing, and Donnie…” You sighed. “Well, I’d probably better just show you.”

  You lead him over to the table where Donnies mutilated body sat underneath a sheet. Wires ran from underneath it and connected to a tiny Metalhead robot.

  “What’s…wrong with him?” Raph said softly, reaching for the sheet.

  “Don’t.” You breathed, brushing his hand away. “You don’t wanna see it, trust me. They fell off a building and got impaled by shrapnel and debris. Their body isn’t exactly pretty or…y’know. Recognizable as Donatello.”

  “They’re dead?” Raph asked, and the tinge of discomfort in his voice wasn’t nearly enough for the situation- the Raph you knew would be yelling and crying and screaming, not…not being mildly uncomfortable in the way that one is when a stranger dies.

  “Yes and no. He’s uploading his brain into that robot. There’s only about an hour left before it loads. After that, we’re outta here for good. The scavengers’ll be coming soon, so we havta get a move on sooner than later.” You said, an empty hollow feeling in your chest as you said the words ‘for good’. 

  It just felt so real.

  “C’mon. Let’s see if your room has anything salvageable.” You grunted, leaving Donnie’s body behind.

  Raph’s room had partially caved in, but the front of it still looked okay. His drum set sat undamaged in the corner, though you doubted there was room for it in the Shellraiser, so it was a moot point.

  Raph stared vacantly at the place that had once mattered so much to him, without a single hint that he recognized any of it in his empty features. You wanted to hug him so bad. Maybe more for your own comfort than for his. 

  But then again, you needed the familiar hug of your best friend…not this vacant eyed empty shell of a turtle who didn’t recognize you.

  “Oh hey look. That box says ‘photos’ on it.” Raph said lightly, pointing at a dusty shoebox that sat under the bed and breaking you out of your spiralling thoughts.

  “It also says ‘do not touch’.” You pointed out.

  “Yeah well, I think I’d want me to know what’s in my own ‘do not touch’ box.” Raph grunted, sounding like his old sarcastic self again for just a moment.

  You held your hands up and stepped aside, and Raph scooped up the box. 

  He took off the lid, and picked up one of the photos. “...Who’s Venus?” He said, holding up a photo of a little turtle in a red bow with the label ‘Venus De Milo’. 

  You frowned, staring at the photo in confusion. Judging by the line drawn over the word ‘Venus’, Raph clearly had not wanted you to know about it, but the name didn’t ring any bells. “Actually, I don’t know. I’ve never met a Venus. Maybe you guys had some long lost sister that no one told me about?”

  “Seriously? What kinda soap opera bullshit would that be?” Raph snorted.

  “I mean. It wouldn’t be the first time.” You shrugged. 

  “...Wait, really?”

  “S’okay, we’ll ask Donnie.” You said. “Now…I’m pretty sure you’d want me to save your sketchbook and paints. Your canvases too, but we don’t have room for that.”

  He swallowed, flipping through the sketchbook you’d handed him, tracing over the doodles on the cover. “Fuck. I…I don’t remember any of these.” He murmured, not even bothering to wipe the tears from under his mask.

  “And I…I can’t find Chompy.” You whispered, rifling around his room a final time. “Shit. Shit shit shit. M-maybe he ran away…” You trailed off, wiping your face with your torn-up shirtsleeve.

  “Chompy?”

  You looked away from him. “Chompy Picasso. Alien turtle. Your son, basically...and I-I can’t fucking find him anywhere. Hopefully he got out before we came here, otherwise…” You swallowed a sob. 

  Raph stared at you, looking sick. “I had a son? But aren’t we…teenagers?” He said, his voice devoid of the raging grief he would have felt before, and replaced with a look of discomfort and horror at being a stranger to his own life.

  “An adoptive son, practically, yeah. And you…you loved him so, so much…He was so fucking cute…” You cried, your voice cracking. “Shit, Raph. You don’t remember Chompy…”

  “Shit.” He agreed, staring at the ground.

***

  Donnie was stable now, opening and closing his new metal hands.

  “How’s Raph?” They said. Their voice had taken on a metallic ring, though it still sounded like Donnie at its core.

  “Brain damage. He’s got brain damage.” You answered, glancing over to the far side of the lab where Raph sat, flipping through his box of photos.

  “What?!”

  “He doesn’t remember anything. That’s why he's keeping his distance. Said it feels weird.” 

  “Memory loss.” Donnie said, and the creaking breathy sounds that followed could only be described as crying although his new metal face remained neutral. 

  You held out your arms and Donnie fell into them, shaking and sobbing but not really. They were so small now, which felt wrong, because Donnie had always been close to your height if not taller.

  Well, it didn’t matter. This was Donnie now, and that stranger in the corner staring at the photos was Raph, and that haggard looking human in the mirror was you.

  Day 0 of the apocalypse and you were already all falling apart at the seams.

  Nice.

***

Day 1.

  Raph forgot his own name for a few hours, and Donnie panicked. He’d say to you later that it was nice to know his circuitry was still capable of having a panic attack, but his voice would be hollow. Well, more so than it was already with that robotic tremor to his voice. 

  But at the moment, you were sitting with your arms around a trembling Metalhead who was actually Donatello, and making uncomfortable eye contact with Raph who sat across from you on the floor of the Shellraiser.

  His bright green eyes were narrowed in frustration, and his plastron rose and fell quicker than usual. He was probably hyperventilating. 

  You kept your distance. When you’d tried to comfort him earlier, he’d tried to shank you with a piece of glass he’d found on the ground. You didn’t hold it against him, really- he’d yelled “Who the hell are you?! Stay back!” first, so you at least knew it wasn’t out of malice.

  And it also meant that he was more damaged than you and Donnie had originally thought. 

  Probably permanently, Donnie had said through gasping breaths before he realized he didn’t actually need air anymore. 

  Fuck. 

  “I’m sorry, Raph.” You found yourself saying, because you were. It may have stung having him try to hurt you, but what stung more was the look of pure fear and confusion in his face. 

  He broke eye contact with you and dropped his face onto his knee pads again, slumping over in shame and sorrow. 

  “I’m sorry (Y/N), Donatello.” He replied, voice slightly muffled by his legs, which were pulled to his chest.

  “Don’t be.” You muttered. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t mean to.”

  Donnie nodded. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should’ve treated you sooner, then you might’ve stood a chance-”

  “Shut up Donatello. If you had done that then you woulda bled out and died and you are not allowed to fucking die on me, we clear?” You hissed, squeezing his metal shoulders.

  “I did die, (Y/N).” Donnie said flatly, pointing at the bag that held their body.

  “Shit.” You said, letting your gaze follow his finger as you let it finally sink in that yeah you were talking to Donnie, but also that was his fucking corpse in the back of the Shellraiser. “Shit shit shit. You’re still with us, but like…man this is fucked up, huh? You’re not dead, Don, you’re still you, but…”

  “What if I’m not?! I’m a robot! Maybe the real Donatello is dead! What if I’m just a really good simulation?! What if I just think I’m panicking because it’s what Donatello would do?” He exclaimed, tugging on Metalhead’s antennae when he would usually tug on his mask tails.

  “Well if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure human emotions are a physical chemical reaction too. So one could argue that I’m just freaking out because the chemicals in my brain are reacting rather than me actually feeling things, right?” You offered.

  “...I guess…Look I think I'm gonna go into sleep mode now, okay? It’s been a long day.” They sighed.

  “Yeah, okay. See ya tomorrow, Don. Love you.” You said, patting his shoulder. 

  “Ditto.” They said, and then the lights went out in their eyes.

  Raph sighed, staring at his sibling. “It feels weird being taller than them for some reason.” He grunted, breaking the silence.

  “Oh, you remember that?” You said hopefully.

  “Nah. I guess it just….feels weird. I dunno.”

  “Well…Yeah it really does. Donnie always towered over you and Leo. Mikey hit a growth spurt like two years ago and wound up almost as tall, and you nearly cried at that...” You rambled, smiling. 

  “Oh. That explains it, I guess.” Raph snorted. “Was I…taller than Leo? Just out of curiosity, of course…” He added, looking hopeful.

  “Nah. Leo’s 5’2ish. You are 5’1.” 

  “...Fuck.” Raph cursed. “That is unfair, y’know that?”

  “You complained about it often.” You smiled. “It was kinda adorable.”

  “Adorable?” Raph said, wrinkling his snout.

  “Yeah. Ha. I uh….called you that a lot, guess it’s kinda a habit. Not because you’re short but because I thought you were cute. Uh…by which I mean good-looking, not cute like a kitten or something.” You said with a shrug. “Not that it really matters.”

  “Oh. That’s cool then, I guess.” Raph said with a slight smile.

  You smiled. “So I can keep callin’ you adorable?”

  “Sure. Knock yourself out.” 

  You glanced out the window of the Shellraiser. It was still too bright out to travel safely to Casey’s apartment, with too many angry mindless mutants destroying everything in sight. You and Donnie had agreed to wait till the cover of night to head over there, in hopes that the new mutants would retain their usual sleep schedule.

  “Damn. How long’ll this take?” You mumbled. It was six in the evening, but still bright as ever outside…

  A pink thing slammed into the front camera, sending you falling back in shock.

  Upon further inspection, it appeared to be a once-human that had been nearly swallowed by brainy, vein-covered tendrils. You choked back a gag.

  Raph swallowed and clicked the camera off, looking greener than usual as the image faded.

  “Ugh. Gross.” You whispered.

  “So I’m assuming that things weren’t alway like this, right?” Raph said softly.

  “Nope. You, my friend, would much prefer the Old World…” You paused, having a realization. “Shit. I bet that if this were a transcript, ‘Old World’ would be fucking capitalized.��� 

  “So….there’s no way to undo whatever happened?”

  “Nah. Dee’s run the numbers. The odds of the Earth bouncing back from this…are in the negatives.” You said, unable to summon anything other than an empty sigh.

  “...What was your Earth like?” Raph asked, raising his brow ridge as he stared at you gently, as if you were some sorta fragile ceramic that could break at any minute.

  Or as if you were a tearful human who’s world had just turned upside down.

  You heaved a sigh, and sat down next to him on the floor.

  “Well…there were trees yesterday. Green trees, not those crystal lookin’ things in Central Park that we saw this morning. And yesterday, this was New York, and it was full of people, not…those brain mutants and animal hybrids and…fuckin’  masses of organs suspended in jello. I dunno how far reaching the mutation bomb was, but Dee’s scanners have picked up on stuff as far as Florida to the south and Quebec to the north, and that’s not even counting the ones that went off on the West Coast and outside of America. Whatever it was that terraformed the Earth did a fucking good job.” You sighed, pulling your knees to your chest.

  “So the old world really is the Old World.” Raph breathed. 

  “Yup. I…I don’t think we’ll ever get our homes back, Raphael.” You whispered. 

  Yesterday morning when you’d said something like that, Raph had pulled you into a wordless hug and you’d pressed your face into his chest and cried. 

  This evening as you sat on the floor crying, Raph stared at you sadly but kept his distance.

  And you were reminded once again that you really were alone.

***

You: Casey we’re headed over

You: Read ya messages case

You: Dude seriously, are you guys okay?

Sent: 4hrs ago, unread

You: We’re here…

Sent: 1hr ago, unread

***

  “Case’? Casey?” You yelled, wandering through his apartment. “April…”

  “April! Casey!” Donnie yelled even louder than you. His face couldn’t emote, but his voice was high and desperate, and you were pretty sure they were twice as nervous as you were.

  “He hasn’t replied to any messages since like three pm, and we’ve searched this dump for like an hour. I don’t think your friends are here, guys.” Raph sighed, crossing his arms. 

  “Shut up!” You and Donnie chorused, and Raph rolled his eyes. 

  “Fine, whatever! We’ll just stay here forever then I guess!” He snapped.

  “Yeah well maybe we’re not being big babies, Raph! Don’t you care about finding Casey?!”

  “I don’t know who the fuck Casey is!” Raph growled.

  Donnie deflated. “...You’re right. I…I’m sorry, Raph. I forgot that you’re…y’know.”

  “Brain damaged? Nice. Can’t fucking relate.” Raph grunted.

  You exhaled through your nose. “Sorry Rafa. We’re just…we really wanted this lead…” Shit you were crying again. 

  “It’s just…I miss them so much. Casey and April mattered a lot to us, and to you, and we thought they’d….we thought they’d be here, but we’ve lost their signal and now I don’t fucking know what to do…” You whimpered, burying your face into your scarf.

  Donnie tried to pat you on the shoulder but only succeeded in reaching to the small of your back.

  “I miss  them too. Well Raph…Casey and April…well, they mattered a ton to me and it just…is so scary to consider that they might…” 

  They didn’t finish the sentence, but you knew what they meant. 

  That they might be dead. 

  Raph stared at both of you with a grimace, seeming to pick up on the meaning too.

***

Day 15.

  Raph stared at the photos a lot, not recognizing any of them.

  Sometimes he woke up on the floor of the subway car that you, his supposed ‘best friend’, and Donnie, the robot who claimed to be his brother, had dubbed the ‘Shellraiser’. He’d sit there trying to remember where he was, only for him to slowly remember waking up in rubble to a wide pair of (E/C) eyes.

  That was always what he remembered first. 

  Then he’d remember the smell of smoke and something he didn’t have a name for, and the feeling of someone hugging him close to their chest and whispering “It’s okay it’s okay-shit- Dee, he’s not waking up, he’s not- Oh my god Donnie, your- your plastron-”

  He’d opened his eyes a crack to see humans mutating, screaming in horror, before someone shifted his head, and then all he could see was fabric.

  Then he was on an unfamiliar couch with someone squeezing his hand. “Donnie…that’s a thing that’s possible?”

  “No, but do I have any other option?!”

  “...Shit Dee, you- you can’t die on me-”

  “I won’t. I swear I won’t, (Y/N). If my theories are concrete, which they have an-” The voice paused to take a laboured breath. “-an 86.3% chance of being, then my consciousness will- shit that hurts- my consciousness will be uploaded into Metalhead…”

  Raph didn’t remember how that conversation had ended, which he was very okay with. 

  Then after that the other things would begin to come back. Right. Right, he was Raphael, and these two people used to matter a lot to him in the Before Times, supposedly.

  He didn't remember either of you, if he was honest. But if the notes on his Past Self’s photos were trustworthy, then you especially meant the world to him once. 

  He held up a photo of you in different, cleaner clothes. Your eyes were brighter, and you were grinning harder than you ever had now. The note on the back read ‘Reference photo 4 drawing (Y/N)’ in a messy script with a heart drawn next to it. Below it, in smudged print, it said ‘I feel creepy for staring at this for so long… Shit why did I write that down?’

  He frowned and looked at another. This one was of a purple-ish pink turtle that gave the camera a wide smile, and the notation on the back said ‘Chompy I love you so fucking much but stop burning my paper please’

  The next photo wasn’t a photo but a drawing. It was a rough sketch of a human hugging a baby turtle that was drawn in pink, with soft shading and a lot of smudges. The back of this one said ‘Shitty drawing of (Y/N) and Chompy. Felt bad throwing it away though for some reason, idk’

  Raph wrinkled his snout. He disagreed with his Past Self, he thought the drawing looked kinda cute. Still, he’d respect Past Raph’s wishes and hide it away in the ‘Don’t Touch Box’. 

  He looked at the next picture. Venus again. 

  There were a lot of photos in the Don’t Touch Box of this ‘Venus De Milo’, and Raph hadn’t gotten any closer to an answer as to who she was. Heck, there were a few photos where she was completely crossed out with no further commentary. Not that it made much of a difference though, since the commentary that was there was ridiculously unhelpful. ‘Took another one of Sensei’s Venus photos. I wish he’d just let me burn all of them, but instead he just gave me this box and told me to hide them here instead of destroying all our childhood photos. Ugh. I hate them so much, obviously you know why, future me.’

  No, I do not. Why are you so cryptic, Past Me?! Raph clicked in frustration, throwing the Venus photos back into the box. 

  “Lookin’ at Sensei’s old photos, Raph?” Said Donnie, making Raph jump back in surprise. 

  “Dammit, you’re awake?!”

  “Yeah, just finished…charging.” Donnie sighed. “That still feels so weird to say.”

  “Well, you’ve only been like this for…what, a week? Two?” Raph said dryly. 

  “...Yeah. I miss being…tall.” Donnie said softly. Raph got the vibe that they’d actually meant something else, but he didn’t feel like unpacking that right now.

  “I miss you being tall.” Raph agreed. “Maybe that’s a good sign as far as memory stuff goes though.”

  “...Hey, maybe it is, Raph! That’s actually really good!” Donnie said, their voice perking up while their face remained uncannily blank.

  “...Cool.” Raph said. “...Hey, Donnie, who was Venus?”

  Donnie jolted. “-Oh. Right. You found those pictures… I actually forgot about- well. Venus… You’re a transman, Raph, and Venus was your name back before you realized you were a boy.”

  Raph frowned. “I’m a…what?”

  “Well…when we were kids, Splinter named you Venus De Milo because you were physically a girl. Then when we were like thirteen or fourteen you told us that you actually were our brother, not our sister, so Sensei changed your name to Raphael.” Donnie said slowly.

  Raph…did not like that information at all. “So…I’m not a boy?”

  “No you are, it just took a bit of time for you to realize it.” Donnie shrugged. 

  “Good. I…do not like the name Venus.” Raph grunted.

  “Yeah, when we were little you used to make us call you ‘Milo’ instead.” Donnie chuckled. “Splinter was so confused, but he just wanted you to be happy at the end of the day, really…”

  Raph swallowed. “Uhh…Donatello, who’s…Splinter?”

  Donnie’s neck sparked. “Right. Right right right…Raph, Splinter was our dad.” 

  “Oh.” He should know that. What kinda person didn’t even recognize their own father?! 

  Why couldn’t he remember the things that made Past Raph so happy?

  Well he didn’t even remember that he was a fucking girl, so clearly he wasn’t the best judge-

  “G’mornin’ guys” You yawned, leaning over the passenger’s seat where Raph had perched.

  Raph shook his head clear and looked back at you. “Hi.”

  “How’s the new body coming, Don?” You asked, stretching your arms.

  “I’m almost done with the shell. I’ve made it segmented this time so that I can actually bend over, see?” They said, bending the large shell made of sewer plates.

  “Oh. That’s really rad, Dee.” You said proudly.

  “Yeah, I’m sick of being shorter than Raph.” He chuckled. “I can't wait to finish this model.”

  “Wait, you’re making a new new body?” Raph frowned. “Did I know about that?”

  “Yeah, I told you yesterday, you must have forgotten... S’okay though. Here’s the design, I made these blueprints months ago.”

  “How come? What’s wrong with this robot?” Raph said, glancing over the taller, sleeker design sketch Donnie had handed him.

  Donnie shrugged. “I guess…this is Metalhead’s body, not mine. And I want my body to feel like mine.”   “Oh. Okay, fair enough I guess?” Raph shrugged, not sure how that made sense. Donnie was in the body, so that made it his right? Why’d they need a new one?

  Whatever, Donnie could do what they wanted, he supposed.

  “I think it looks great.” You smiled, though it didn’t reach your eyes the way it did in the Don’t Touch Box photos. “I love the purple LEDs.”

  “Yeah, it looks nice.” Raph agreed. It really did; it was cleaner than Donnie’s current body, and seemingly more combat-effective if all the hidden blasters in the concept art were any clue. Plus it just looked cool as fuck.

  ��Thanks. It should be finished in a few weeks…in the meantime though, (Y/N), we should discuss plans.”

  You nodded, following Donnie to the back of the Shellraiser.

  “We should go on a supply run, we’re low on perishable food and water.” You said, writing ‘supply run’ on the whiteboard Donnie had set up in the back. 

  “Okay, noted. Do we have enough non-perishables?”

  “Yeah. The drawers in the back are full of instant ramen and canned food.” You nodded.

  “So just the usual things then…shelter. What’re we gonna do about shelter?”

  “Yeah, I don’t really like it out here. Seems pretty sketchy.” Raph grunted, spinning around so that his plastron was pressed to the back of the chair and his head was rested on the top.

  “I vote we go to the farmhouse. You’ve run your scans, and I think we just needa….you know, accept that everyone is…out of range of the scanners. We’re just sitting ducks in New York, Don.” You sighed.

  Donnie clenched their fists. “I- I know, but like…what if they come back for us and we’re not here, (Y/N)? What if by leaving we forfeit our chances of finding Casey, April, Mikey, and Leo?”

  “Well what if we do? Who cares?” Raph argued. “They either left or they’re dead, Donatello! We should leave too if we wanna not be dead!”

  “Yeah well what do you know?! You don’t even know the extent of the damage!”

  “Yeah I do. Explode-y bomb things from here to the other side of the planet. Earth getting terraformed in some twisted reflection of the world you knew before. Humans turning into horrifying brainless monsters, and humans that turn into horrified monstrous mutants, and humans like (Y/N) who survived with trauma and dead friends. And friends that lose their memories. Yadayada, all that shit.” Raph said through gritted teeth. “Plus, I saw you guys fighting off those mutants in the last supply run, you barely escaped with your fucking tail attached. Long story short, I vote we get outta here as soon as possible.”

  You and Donnie looked at each other, blinking.

  “I vote what he votes.” You supplied.

  Donnie sighed. “You always did…fine. Fine, guys.  You win. But can we please just stay for one more night?”

  You shrugged. “Yeah, I think that seems fair. Raph?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Deal. We havta go on that supply run, anyways, so.”

  “Cool cool. So…farmhouse then, Dee?” You said hesitantly, as if you were afraid of hurting Donnie.

  Donnie just grunted. “I’m gonna go into sleep mode. You guys handle the supply run, I have to do some repairs from last time.”

  “Well that wasn’t really an answer.” You said flatly as Donnie’s lights went out again.

  “...No it was not.” Raph sighed. 

***

  “D’ya think I can pull off steel-toed boots?” You grinned, rapping your knuckles on the metal capped toes of a pair of leather combat boots.

  “Well…it seems efficient, so yeah, why not.” Raph shrugged.

  “Yeah, but would it look rad?” You pressed.

  Raph nodded. “It would look badass.”

  “Now that’s the answer I was lookin’ for.” You beamed, pulling on the boots.

  “Do you think I’d look cool in that jacket?” Raph asked, reaching for an aviator jacket. It was useful, from a practical standpoint, with tons of pockets and the ability to hold in warmth, but he didn’t really want it if it didn’t make him look like the characters on the covers of the comics he’d managed to salvage.

  “Raphael, you would look so cool in that jacket. You need it.” You nodded emphatically. “All we’d needa do is cut a hole for your shell.”

  “...Oh yeah. Forgot about that part.” Raph sighed, wrinkling his snout in disdain. His shell was kinda inconvenient. But then again, it did function as a fantastic natural armor, so pros and cons. He tossed the jacket into the hijacked cart anyways.

  You grabbed a tent from the shelf. “I think this’ll probably be useful down the line right?”

  “Well…it’s free, so might as well.”

  “Ooh, lookit this lifestraw!”

  “What the hell is a lifestraw?”

  “It filters water. Turns even the most contaminated junk into safely drinkable water. I’m surprised there’s even one left, this is gonna save our shells.”

  “You don’t have a shell, (Y/N).”

  “I’ve spent the past three years of my life surrounded almost entirely by people who do. Your jargon has worn off on me.”

  “What the hell is jargon?”

  “Your turtle-specific manner of speaking. Like swapping normal words for ‘shell’.”

  “Shit, we did that?”

  “Yeah. It was charming.”

***

  “(Y/N), what’s ‘feminine hygiene’?” Raph frowned, peering down an aisle.

  You glanced up, following his gaze. “Uh…y’know, girl stuff, don’t worry about it.”

  “Donnie said I’m a ‘transman’, so maybe I should.” Raph mumbled, feeling ill at the thought.

  You did a double take. “Wait what? Oh-kay, cool cool. Maybe you do need to worry about it.”

  Raph grunted and crossed his arms. “I dunno why, but I get a very odd, very uncomfortable feeling when you say that.”

  You swallowed, obvious nervousness in your eyes. “Well…that is fair. Raphael…allow me to remind you about the world of…feminine hygiene. Damn. I’m having to give my boyfriend- uh- my best friend- ‘the talk’, this feels weird!” You laughed. “Uh…so how do I put this. Once a month people with feminine body parts…bleed uncontrollably and you havta fix it with the stuff in this aisle! …Yayyyy!”

  Raph suddenly got a very vivid memory of sitting on the couch of the lair with a hot pack on his plastron and an angry feeling in his head.

  Shit, why was one of the few memories he had of the Old World one where he was bleeding in places he didn’t want to be?!

  He groaned and facepalmed. “This is shit, you know that? My life is shit.”

  “Periods ain’t fun.” You nodded. “I dunno if you turtles are affected the same way as humans though, so I could be totally wrong-”

  “No, no, I remember now. It’s the same. Basically.” Raph said, blushing bright red and glaring at the ground. “Aaand I’m calling it on that conversation.” He finished.

  You nodded. “I’ll allow it. Lemme know if you need any help figuring out what supplies you need-”

  “-nO I’m good!” Raph exclaimed. “How about you just get- get some other supplies right now?!” He grinned, trying to mask the discomfort that rose the longer he stood in this stupid aisle.

  You nodded. “Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I’ll be in the next aisle over, the first aid section, ‘kay?”

  “Great.” Raph replied.

  It was only after you’d left that he noticed that you’d called him your ‘boyfriend’ for a second there.

  Well. Well that was an interesting development. 

  Raph hated not having his memories. He was 99% positive that Past Raph would know exactly what you meant by that, but presently? Raph was just so, so confused.

  Maybe he had been your boyfriend in the Old World. If the photos counted for anything, Past Raph had probably liked you at some point- you showed up more often than anyone else, both in the photos and in his sketchbook. And he hadn’t even finished digging through them yet.

  And now instead of having good ol’ Past Raph to comfort you, you got this Raph. The Raph who had forgotten his own name a few days ago, the Raph who didn’t really know what to do when you cried, the Raph who was so sick of not knowing… 

  Heck, he was pretty sure you had been avoiding touching him, which felt just as weird as being taller than Donnie. Even in the photos, you always seemed to have an arm around him or a hand in his, but now you were careful not to stray within a few feet of him. As if he was some kinda ticking time bomb.

  Then again, he kinda was, huh? The last time you’d come near him, he’d tried to stab you in a panic. Maybe you were right to steer clear of him, though the thought of that just made him sad for some reason. 

  He paused and blinked at a mirror that sat at the end of the aisle.

  Huh. That really was what he looked like, all green skin and torn mask tails and neon eyes. 

  He looked tired.

  “Hey Rafa, lookit what I found!” You yelled, and Raph tore himself away from his reflection, dropping his armful of…feminine hygiene products into the cart before following your voice to the paint section.

  “Look dude! Spray paint!” You grinned, bouncing on your feet.

  Raph stared at you blankly, trying to understand your excitement. “Uh…did we…uhm…”

  An image flashed through his head of holding a can of spray paint and stepping back to look at a mural. 

  “...OH! Oh right! I used to like spray painting!” He exclaimed, pleased at the memory. “(Y/N) I remember it!”

  Your eyes widened. “You remember?! Oh Raph this is huge!”

  “...What d’ya say to painting a final mural before we leave the city, for….I dunno, old time’s sake?” Raph said with a hesitant smile.

  “Hell yeah!” You beamed, grabbing as many colors of spray paint as you could and dropping them into the cart. “Dee is in sleep mode so he can’t even stop us!”

  “Yes, I can.” 

  You fell back and dropped your phone. Raph’s fists flew into a fighting stance, observing the phone nervously.

  “Sorry ‘bout the scare guys.” Donnie’s voice chuckled, not sounding even slightly sorry. “I just discovered that I can access you through your phones! I’ll be back in sleep mode soon, I just thought that was a perfect time to test the audio feature.”

  “Wait, you can hear our conversations?” You frowned.

  “Uh….surprise?” Donnie said sheepishly. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t plan on stopping you from spray painting. It actually seems like it could both help Raph’s memory since it’s so familiar, as well as being just…a nice gesture. My one suggestion is that you add some way for Leo, Mikey, Casey, and April to find us, like a coded key to our whereabouts.”

  “Oh. That’s smart.” You said. “But can we get back to how you’ve been eavesdropping this whole time Donald?!”

  “Lalala, going into sleep mode, can’t hear you, lalala…” Donnie said, ever the terrible liar, and disconnected a second later.

  “That little shit.” You said fondly. “If you’re still listening, I love you, Don, but you’re a total jerk.”

  Raph shook his head, feeling the beginnings of a smile on his face. “If you’re still listening, then quit listening, Donatello.”

  But no reply came from the phone, so you shrugged. “Guess he actually is back in sleep mode. C’mon, let’s paint a mural.”

***

  Raph glared at the wall.

  The spray paint had gathered into a messy blob of color that did not look like a mural.

  The paint bottle felt natural in his hand, yeah, and his lines were steady, but they weren’t coming out right. He scowled and tried to cover the blob with a cloud of red, but then it didn’t look like a cloud, it just looked like blood.

  “AUGUHH!” He yelled in frustration, kicking the wall. He jumped back to hold his foot, which was now throbbing in pain. Shit, why was that his instinct?!

  “You good Raph?” You said, looking over from your side of the wall. Your mural looked nice, with a painting of two turtles, a skeleton, and a red haired girl with eyes that seemed to glow. They were all outlined in thick black and colored in vibrant shades, which made them pop against the gray wall.

  “Fine…” He grumbled, rubbing his foot. “I just- I can’t draw or something.”

  You followed his glare toward his bloody smear of a painting.

  “Oh…did you…”

  “Forget? Yeah. I fucking forgot how to draw.” He said with a humorless laugh.

  “Do you…want a crash course? We’ve still got an hour or so before we have to head out…” You offered.

  He shook his head. “No…we don’t have time. …Did you add the message?”

  You nodded, still staring at him sympathetically. “I wrote ‘guys, find us in the healing place- Red, Purple, and (L/N)’. They’ll know what I mean.”

  “The ‘healing place’?” Raph repeated.

  “The farmhouse.” You elaborated. “We went there back when the kraang invaded three years ago. Leo was in a coma for like three months, and y’know…healed. And I think we all kinda healed too. You were kinda the team leader for a bit there…” You trailed off, eyes glazing over as if you were reminiscing about something Raph undoubtedly wouldn’t understand. You shook your head clear. “...but you know, I think they’ll get it. More importantly, I don’t think anyone else will, so we can’t be followed. Not that we have any reason to be followed, I’m just paranoid.” 

  “Aren’t we like…ninjas with like a million enemies or whatever?”

  You snorted. “Kinda, yeah.”

  “...So the idea that we might be followed doesn’t seem that outlandish, right?” Raph ventured.

  “Hm. Thanks for justifying my paranoia, Raphael!” You exclaimed, not looking any happier.

  “...Uh…I’m gonna say you’re welcome, but I get the funny feeling that you don’t actually mean that, huh?” He said sheepishly,

  “No, I…I dunno.” You said with a humorless laugh. “I’m being weird.”

  “It’s literally the end of your world. You should be acting weird, right?” Raph snorted.

  You smiled half-heartedly. “Ya think?”

  “Donnie’s acting weird, I’m acting weird. You can act weird too.” He said matter-of-factly.

  You sighed. “But that’s just the thing. Donnie lost their body. You lost your past. What the hell did I lose? …You know, aside from my friends…and family…and my old life…but you guys lost that too!”

  “I really didn’t. You can’t miss what you don't remember, right?” Raph said with a hollow laugh. “I have no Old World. No old connections. The world we’re in now is basically all I’ve ever known, so if anything, I’ve lost…the least.”

  You stared at him, a discomforting sense of horror in your eyes. You raised your hands as if to set them on his shoulders, but then lowered them instead. 

  “Raph…Fuck. No! You’ve lost everything! Like, way more than I have! At least I still have good memories to go back to, o-of you, of Chompy, of Leo and Casey and Mikey and April…of Mona, Raph, I still have memories of Mona, and you don’t even have that…” You wiped your eyes with your scarf and shook your head. “Shit, man. We’re all going through hell, I shouldn’t bother comparing it.”

  “Yeah….yeah. That’s a good way of lookin’ at it.” Raph sighed.

  “...Who's Mona?” He asked lightly, after a beat of silence.

  You smiled slightly. “Mona Lisa? She’s this really awesome Salamandrian who we met in space.”

  “We went to space?!” Raph said, eyes widening.

  “Yup. It was very convoluted… Anyways, we both had this ridiculous crush on her…she was so cool. She could beat us at fighting easily, but she also was so sweet…ahhh, what a woman.” You said, perking up a bit more. “Anyways, at least she’s safe…She’s in space.”   

  “What else have you guys not told me about my life?!” Raph exclaimed.

  “I promise I’ll tell you everything once life has calmed down a bit, but there is some stuff that I genuinely believe is too much for you right now.” You shrugged.

  “Well it’s my memories, so I don’t think that’s for you to decide.” Raph frowned.

  You opened your mouth, glaring at him, before deflating. “...I…you’re right. It is your memories, Raph. You do deserve the truth. But the truth isn’t always easy or fun or any of that so can we make a compromise?”

  He gestured for you to go ahead.

  You squeezed your hands. “I’ll tell you what you need to know, and if you figure stuff out on your own- which is highly likely- I’ll give ya more details. Deal?” You held out your hand.

  Raph sighed. This was probably the best he was gonna get from you.

  …Also…what was with the hand? 

  Raph frowned, staring at your hand, and took it awkwardly. “Deal?”

  You blinked.

  He blinked.

  “Raph why are you still holding my hand?” You coughed.

  “Oh, was I supposed to-”

  “-Let go, yeah, this is a handshake.”

  “-Weird. You guys are weird.”

  “You still haven’t let go?” You said, but you were smiling.

  Would it be weird if he said he kinda didn’t wanna? Holding your hand felt nice…

  “Uh- right.” He grunted, wrenching his hand out of yours.

***

Day 16.

  “Well, I think we’re all set to go upstate.” Donnie said as he finished checking over the items Raph and you had taken.

  “Cool.” You said softly.

  You’d talked about going upstate for the past two weeks, but as Donnie closed the power-cell powered freezer box, it finally hit you that you were leaving. 

  Like leaving leaving. 

  It wasn’t like there was much of a choice. New York was dangerous, more now than before. You and Raph had even wound up in a mild tussle as you made your way back to the Shellraiser last night.

  There were too many scared humans and animals that had gained sentience and horrifying mindless creatures that looked like body-horror inspired abominations to go anywhere without a fight. And frankly, none of you wanted to deal with that.

  And it didn’t help that Donnie’s sensors weren’t picking up on any habitable land in the general radius. You were sure he wasn’t telling you everything, but he had mumbled something about the soil being full of toxic chemicals and unable to maintain life among…other things.

  Essentially, New York City was dying. But maybe if you were all lucky, the farmhouse would be habitable.

  By which you meant…with good soil. It’d be really really nice if you guys could just…plant seeds for food and hang out there for the rest of eternity. Nice, but unlikely, if you were realistic. Still. It was a spot of hope. 

  Raphael stared at you mournfully as you and Donnie finished preparing the Shellraiser. He did that a lot now, and it always stung about the same- he wanted to remember you, but to him, you were a stranger. 

  You hated feeling like a stranger around the person who’d been closer to you than anyone ever back in the Before Times. 

  Not that you’d told him much. You thought there was kinda a power imbalance now, since you knew so much about Raph and he now knew so little about you. He was vulnerable, and you, being one of the ones who had saved him, had a bit more sway over him than you felt comfortable with. 

  He was catching onto you though, you could see that. He’d understandably demanded answers last night, and although you’d agreed to his terms, you were dreading it. Because how could you tell him that he had been your boyfriend if he didn’t even know who you were? Worse, would he feel like he had to immediately go back to that just to make you feel better?

  You’d described your relationship to him as ‘best friend’, which was more accurate, honestly, considering both you and Raph had been a bit odd around romance, but still. It would probably be more to take in than he could handle right now…

  “So. We ready to get this tin can on the road?” You said finally, leaning over Donnie’s shoulder as they stepped away from the newly pumped tires. 

  “...I believe so.” Donnie said proudly, patting the side of the car. 

  And with that, you gave New York City one final good-bye.

  “Seeya, New York…you were one hell of a town to live in. We….had a lotta fun here.” You said, leaning against the Shellraiser to stare at the cityscape.

  “Goodbye pigeons and manholes and starless skies. I-I’ll miss you.” Donnie said fondly, leaning next to you.

  “And I’ll miss pizza gyoza, my fire escape- heck, I’ll even miss Shredder’s lair and TCRI.” You grinned.

  “What a town.” Donnie said, nodding.

  "Hey guys, this is real sweet, but it’s getting dark.” Raph grunted, poking his head out the door. “Let’s get this freakshow on the road.”

  “...Okay.” You said with a rueful smile.

  “...Yeah, we’re coming.” Donnie sighed, and the two of you headed into the Shellraiser.

***

  By the time the sun had set, you had left the city.

  Raph sat in the passenger seat, eating dry pasta like a heathen, and Donnie sat in the roof hatch running his scanners. You weren’t exactly expecting that he’d find anything positive though.

  As you silently drove up the road, you took note of a few things- first off, there were trees out here, at least. Dead trees, but still trees rather than alien shapes that had loomed over you in New York, which was some relief.  

  Secondly…there was no sign of life. The only noise you had heard since leaving New York was the quiet hum of the Shellraiser’s engine, punctuated by Raphael’s crunching on his fucking dry pasta. (Seriously, that stuff could not be good for his digestive system…)

  Thirdly…your hopes of finding an oasis in all of this were running as dry as the land around you. 

  New York was dead, and Earth wasn’t following too far behind it. 

  Donnie clambored back down from the top lookout with a heavy sigh. 

  “So Doc, what’s the diagnosis?” You said dryly, no bothering to turn around. “Lemme guess- we’re doomed?”

  “Well, my sensors have picked up nothing but toxic chemicals and mutagen. There's no living organic plant forms for miles. I’m not picking up on the signatures of Casey, April, Leo, Mikey, Karai, the Mutanimals, or the (L/N)s. I don’t think the Earth will ever heal from this, and our tech has been basically thrown back to the dark ages.” He paused to heave an even more dramatic sigh, before saying “So does that answer your question?” cheerfully.

  You whistled. “Ouch. So we are doomed.”

  Raph crunched on his pasta and glanced up. “Great. That’s….real great.”

  “Raph, are you eating straight up uncooked tortellini?!” Donnie said, gagging.

  Raph smirked and crunched louder, and you cringed at the sound. 

  “Ugh, must you do that?”

  “It tastes good.” He said innocently.

  “Well don’t come to me for help when you get a stomachache.” Donnie said, disgusted.

  You snorted, and refocused on the road as Donnie continued to complain about Raph’s apoca-licious eating habits.

  Because hey. Maybe you were just headed towards certain doom upstate. Maybe Raph would never remember the past. Maybe the fucking planet was mutated beyond recognition…But hey.

  At least you were with your best friends. 

  Heck, if you ignored the metallic tremor in Donnie’s voice and made Raph’s ever so slightly gentler, you could pretend that this was just another peaceful road trip. Just another night of smiling at Dee and Rafa’s antics, of choosing to unsubtly egg them on, of talking till morning with Raph about shit like life and the future and insecurities, comforting each other in that sweet way the two of you always had.

  Yeah, yeah. You’d pretend it was a night like that.

  And for a bit, you’re nearly convinced that when you woke up tomorrow, everything would be alright.

***

Day 17.

  Everything was not entirely alright.

  The farmhouse was devoid of people, and was shrouded in suspiciously pink clouds that hung lower than clouds usually did. Donnie scanned the air though and only got the usual amount of toxic chemicals, so you guys reluctantly decided it was safe.

 ��“Woah, looks like this place already got picked clean.” You winced, glancing around the main room. It was mostly empty- everything from the furniture to the photos on the wall had been taken.

   The stairs however, had caved in, but with the help of your grappling hook, you made your way to the top without too much effort.

  The top of the house, by comparison, was full of the homey clutter that you had grown to expect from the healing place. Just being there, surrounded by everyone’s old things and the memories around them, made you breathe a sigh of relief. 

  “Anything up there?” Donnie said from the ground level.

  You smiled, breathing in the air of the place you’d briefly called home. “Everything, Don. Case’s spare eyeliner pens, Leo’s matcha powder, Raph’s forgotten sketchbooks and acrylics…everything.”

  With a bit of effort due to Metalhead’s heavy clunky body, Donnie managed to heave themself upstairs too.

  “Woah. Weird being back here.” He said, and you got the impression that he’d be smiling if they could.

  “How’re ya doin’ down there, Raph?” You said, leaning over the stair rail to see him staring into the living room.

  “I…we watched a dumb cartoon there, right? Uh…Chris Bradford the…Barbarian?” He breathed, as if speaking any louder would shatter his ability to remember.

  You and Donnie glanced at each other, swapping a pair of grins. Well, metaphorically, in Dee’s case.

  “Yeah. Crognard the Barbarian…” You smiled. “But we did watch another show about Chris Bradford!”

  “Awesome, Raph!” Donnie said, pumping their fist.

  “...Cool.” He said softly, putting his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “So…this is the safehouse, then?”

  “Well, ‘safe’ is a strong word…there’s a heck of a lot of danger we got into here last time.” You said, sliding down the stair banister. 

  “Out here in the middle of nowhere?” Raph snorted, turning towards you. “How the hell was this dangerous?”

  “You got mutated into a plant once,” Donnie supplied.

  “Ooh, Bigfoot tried to marry Don,” You grinned.

  “Who’s bigfoot?”

  “This forest cryptid who had a crush on Donnie.” You said with a chuckle.

  “(Y/N), please know that I would be rolling my eyes at you right now if I still had them.” Donnie sighed.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You said, giving them a mock-salute.

  Raph entered the dining room. “Did anything terrifying happen here?” He said curiously.

  “Hm…Oh yeah. We fought off mutant frogs.” You said, nodding at the memory. “They were all named after conquerors and they hated humans. …One of them talked like Napoleon Dynamite….not that you’d know that reference…”

  “Ha, what?” Raph chuckled. “Our lives sound weird. What other things did we do?”

  “Oh they very much were.” You nodded. “Let’s see…what other shit did we do? Uhm…there was this one time when you got your brain swapped with a kraang, that one was weird.”

  “What exactly is a kraang? You’ve mentioned them before, but…”

  “Oh, right. A kraang looks like- well, here.” You pulled up a photo of a snarling kraang that you’d taken a selfie with. “Voila.”

  “Eww.” Raph cringed. “Why is it like…all goopy and gross?”

  “Evolution, I guess.” You said, wrinkling your nose. “Gnarly, right?”

  “So you’re tellin’ me I got my brain swapped with that thing?!” Raph said incredulously. 

  “Yup. It was pretty freaky seeing your body completely…not-like-you, but hey, we figured it out.” You chuckled.

  “Hey Raph, you might wanna see this!” Donnie said, yelling over the stair rail.

  “Uh, okay…” Raph frowned, heading towards the rope you’d hung over the caved-in stairwell. You followed after him.

  “See, lookit this-” 

  “Hey, this- this is my room!” Raph exclaimed, shoving past Donnie and into the room. “I- I remember this place! I remember sitting there,” He said, pointing at the bed, “And coming this way-” He spun out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom- “And-....oh.” He frowned, opening the bathroom door. “I…I get the weird feeling that somethin’....happened here, huh?” He said softly.

  You winced, reaching to put a hand on his shoulder, before thinking better of it. “Yeah. This is where Leo…was in his coma.”

  “...You sat with him every day, Raph, ‘till he healed.” Donnie said gently.

  Raph nodded. “Ha. I…ah…don’t remember that.”

  “Well, you did remember your room, and a piece of your old daily routine, so I’d say this is a win! Robo-high-three!” Donnie said cheerfully, holding up their hand.

  Raph wrinkled his snout “Uh…okay…” He held up his own hand, mirroring theirs,  staring at them with an awkward shrug. “Hello, three? Uh…satisfied?”

  Donnie lowered his hand. “...I shoulda seen that one coming.”

  Raph rolled his eyes, shoving his hand back into his pocket. “Whatever, Don. What was it you called me up here for, anyways?”

  “Your old sketchbook! I know you have the one from the lair, but this one  is full of all the stuff you did here!” Donnie said excitedly, handing Raph the book.

  Raph shrugged and accepted it, flipping through the pages. “Woah. These are pretty nice.” He said, starting to smile a bit.

  “Ooh, can I see?” You asked hopefully.

  “Sure.” Raph nodded, angling the book so you could see the art too.

  This page was full of the planning-stage-sketches for what you recognized to be the painting he’d done on the party van.

  “Oh dude, these rock.” You grinned.

  “Yeah…I just hope I’ll be able to…y’know.” He clenched his hand, giving it a sad stare. “Do them again someday.”

***

Day 20.

  “Well ladies and gentlefolk, turtles and others, I have gathered you all here today to present…The Donbot V.1!” Said Donnie, staring into the mirror. 

    It was a pretty nice design, if they did say so themself. It was taller than Metalhead’s model had been, standing at his usual height of 5 '6-to-5' 8-ish, and was made of a dark green steel he had salvaged back in the city. In a burst of inspiration, they had added purple accent lights.

  For the first time in days, they didn’t feel so wrong about looking into the mirror. The face that stared back at him wasn’t his, really, but it was…closer. The blank face felt somehow more comfortable than Metalhead’s imitation-turtle one.

They shook their head, chuckling to themself slightly. If only he were presenting his invention to a crowd of scientifically minded peers instead of to his friend and his brother. Then he might prepare something flashy and exciting, presentation-wise. 

  But alas, it was the end of the world.

  So instead, he simply glanced at themself one more time before leaving the bathroom, revealing his new body without any fanfare.

  You patted his shell and said they looked ‘rad as hell’. Raph shot him a wary look, but it went away fast, and soon enough Raph was congratulating him too- albeit, with a bit of mild confusion.

  Ironically, the brother that would have once understood better than anyone what it feels like to be in a body you don’t want….just happened to be the brother who had recently forgotten that he usually had dysphoria. 

  Donnie supposed that in a post apocalyptic world where gender was so irrelevant that Raph hadn’t even realized he was trans, it wouldn’t even occur to Raph to be dysphoric. (Hm. Maybe the end of the world had its good sides!)

  But secretly, selfishly, a twisted part of Donnie wished that Raph was still in the state of mind to relate to them. It was unfair, and a cruel thing to wish on his brother. Logically, Donnie knew that. But maybe a part of them wanted to just…feel a little bit more understood. Less like an alien. 

  It wasn’t like he didn’t notice the way you and Raph flinched when he entered the room, looking at them like he was some- some thing. Some freak. Maybe a cruel voice in the pits of his now-wire-filled stomach whispered things about how much he wished Raph remembered how it felt, how much a part of him wished you had been mutated in the explosion  so someone, anyone would understand the soul-crushing loneliness of not being in the right body-

  Shit. That was dark. Maybe he was losing more of his humanity than he’d initially theorized-

  Donnie swallowed their thoughts and opened the fridge, only to close it again upon remembering that he was physically incapable of eating,

***

Day 21.

  “AAAAUGHH!” Raph screamed, dropping to his knees on the dead grass. He threw his arms around his stomach- something in his guts felt like something had crawled in there and died and oh shit was this that girl thing?

  “Raph! Are you okay?!” Said Donnie, dropping his bo staff and rushing over.

  “Ow- ow- shit- Donatello, I-I gotta take a -oh- a -ow- a break from practicin’.” Raph grunted, using Donnie’s arm to pull himself up. 

  Time to go fucking deal with this now, he supposed. Just what his stupid life needed right now.

***

Day 24.

  “AAAAIIIEEE!” Raph screeched, chucking the stupid fucking salad prongs across the room.

  “Raph! Dude!” You snapped. “Look, I know you’re frustrated but ya can’t expect to get it right the first time!”

  “Well it’s NOT my first time using sais, is it? Aren’t I supposed to have some kinda muscle memory or whatever?!” He snapped back.

  “Raph, bud, bear with me- you lost your memory, hon’.” You sighed. “You gotta be patient with yourself.”

  “Maybe my self needs to hurry up already.” Raph said, crossing his arms. 

  See, it would be one thing if he’d entirely forgotten how to use his sais. But the thing was- he did remember. He remembered the feeling of their leather, he remembered spinning them and smirking at himself in the bathroom mirror, he remembered holding them in his fists and destroying things and how satisfying it was- but he couldn’t do those things anymore.

  It was just as fucking pointless to try as drawing had been.

  Shit, there were tears in his eyes.

  “You okay, Rafa?” You said gently, doing that annoying thing you did where you reached for him. He always let himself hope that you would actually follow through with it this time…he wasn’t sure why, exactly, but it always felt like a stab to his metaphorical heart everytime you lowered your hand instead of patting him on the shoulder or squeezing his hand or giving him a hug or anything oh good lord he’d take anything- You lowered your hand again, and yet again he felt something shatter in his chest. (Why did he still bother to hope? He’d just thrown his sais in anger. Of course you were nervous around him.)

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever, (Y/N). I’m fine.”

  “...Okay…well…I’m here to talk if you need me, y’know?” You said, smiling softly.

  “I don’t wanna talk.” He grumbled. I want a hug, I want warmth, I want someone to say everything is gonna be okay-

  You nodded, staring at him sadly. “...Okay.”

  You left the makeshift dojo, leaving him alone with the blank walls of what had once been a living room.

  Raph wiped his eyes and glared at your retreating figure, half-aware that his anger was misplaced. It wasn’t like you’d done anything other than be understanding and supportive…but still.

***

Day 25.

  “BACK OFF!” Raph yelled, glaring at the robot.

  “Raph, it’s okay, it’s me, your brother! Donatello!”

  Raph had brothers?

  …No, that didn’t sound right- this robot was probably here to hurt him- a vague memory of fighting a similar robot flashed through his mind, reaffirming his certainty that this thing was bad and dangerous and wanted to hurt him-

  He bit back a whimper as the robot got closer, instead snarling as viciously as he could. “Get away from me ya fucking toaster.”

  The robot stepped back.

  Huh. The…robot stepped back…?

  The robot in his memory shifted into a turtle with a worried look on his face and a gap in their teeth and a purple mask.

  Donatello.

  Oh…right. This was Donatello. His brother. He was at the farmhouse with you and Donatello….Donatello who was a robot now.

  “Shit.” Raph mumbled, staring at the robot that was Donatello. “I…I did it again, huh?” 

  “RAPH! DEE! Jeez, are you guys okay?! I heard yellin’ and-'' You said, slamming the door open. The kitchen door. Raph was in the kitchen. The farmhouse kitchen.

  “Just…another incident. Don’t worry about it.” Raph muttered sullenly, wiping the spit off his mouth that he must’ve gotten from all the animalistic hissing.

  “Ah.” You said. “Are you both…okay then?”

  Donnie nodded wordlessly, ducking out of the room with his head down and shoulders slumped.

  Raph scowled, hugging his knees to his chest. “Same as I usually am, I guess.”

  “So…not great?” You frowned.

  “Not great.” He confirmed.

  “Ah.” You leaned forwards hesitantly, hand outstretched. 

  This time Raph didn’t even flinch when you inevitably lowered it and followed Donatello out of the room. He just shoved his face into his kneepads and tried really hard not to cry.

***

  Donnie slipped outside, staring out at the wasteland that used to be a forest.

  Raph had forgotten him again. 

  Honestly, they didn’t know why it hurt so much. It wasn’t the first or even the second or third time Raph had forgotten him…but Raph went into the feral mode around Donnie way more than he did around you. 

  And logically, Donnie knew exactly why that was. You looked the same as you always did, albeit more battered and less smiley, while he, Donnie, looked entirely different. He was entirely different. 

  His sensors picked you up behind him on the porch.

  “Hey.” They said glumly.

  “Hey Dee.” You said, sitting on the porch steps next to him.

  “I don’t think the world will ever heal again, (Y/N).” Donnie said softly. 

  Your eyes grew glossy (although maybe they already had been), and you looked away from them. “...I know.”

  “I miss everyone so much.” He whispered.

  “Me too.” 

  “Casey and I first became friends in that barn…April kissed me by the stump…” He said, trailing off. He put a hand on his face, remembering where Casey had first kissed him. That had also been at the farmhouse…

  God, they missed Casey and April.

  You nodded. “Me and Raph once buried a dead turtle over there…it used to be the prettiest part of the yard.” You said bitterly, pointing towards the spot where the pond had been just a month ago. Now it was reduced to another patch of dry, dying grass.

  “So it was a turtle? I thought you guys killed someone.” Donnie said, only half joking- They remembered vaguely how he’d walked in on Leo lecturing a guilty-looking you and Raph on ‘honorability’ one morning. They’d glanced outside to see a suspicious grave outside that hadn’t been there the night before, and put two and two together…nice to know that it was just an unmutated turtle.

  “Yeah…Raph thought it was like, a blow to his masculinity or something to tell you guys that he cared about animals.” You said with a snort. 

  “Well that’s stupid, we all know he loved animals. He was like a Disney princess around them.” Donnie said, shaking their head. 

  “Yeah…very true.” You smiled. 

  “What do you plan on doing about your whole….thing with Raph, anyways?” They said, changing the subject in hopes of distracting their thoughts from existential dread.

  You sighed, running a hand down your face. “Fuck, man. I don’t know. Like…I love him so much, but it’s not fair for me to right now. He’s vulnerable and scared and doesn’t even know who we are half the time…how can I put the pressure of a relationship, or even the implications of a past relationship, on him right now? That’s just…so unfair. Plus, we’re the only people he has right now. What if he thinks not liking me will mean us…like, kicking him out or something fucked up like that? What if he tries to force himself to feel the same just out of guilt? What if-”

  “Well first off, overthinking things? That’s my job, stay outta my turf.” Donnie teased. You smiled slightly. “Secondly- who says you have to tell him? Because you really don’t.”

  “Well, he’s not dumb, Don- he’s figured out that I’m hiding something.” You said dryly.

 “Are you though? Because I’m pretty sure you’ve been fairly honest about things- he’s your best friend. He always was. Just say ‘yeah we were like close or something’, you know? It’s not like you guys ever kissed or anything, at least not much, so it’s not much of a stretch.” Donnie suggested.

  You nodded. “Yeah…I guess you’re right…who knew you were so good with relationship advice?”

  “Nah, I just know you and Raph pretty well.” He chuckled.

  You smiled, putting an arm around his shoulders in a side hug. “Thanks Don.”

  “Hey, thanks for distracting me from my existential dread.” They snorted, hugging you back.

***

  Day 35.

  “What if I can’t feel feelings?” Said Donnie, lying awake next to you.

  “Hnnghh…Go to sleep Donnie.” You grunted, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders.  It may have been more secure and safe to have all three of you stationed in the Shellraiser rather than the house, but man, between Raph’s snoring and Donnie’s shitty sleep schedule that you knew full well he had programmed himself to have, it certainly made sleeping hard.

  “But what if this is all a dream! What if I died and this is a severely messed up dream I’m having in my last few minutes of life?”

  “Shut up Donatello.” Raph groaned, trying to muffle Don’s voice with a blanket.

  “What if I'm in a coma and I’m dreaming this and the Earth is actually fine?”

  “Go to sleep, broooo…” You moaned, covering your ears with a pillow.

  “I don’t usually go into sleep mode for another…mmm…two hours.” Donnie said. “Damn…sleep mode! (Y/N), I’m not a person anymore, am I?!”

  “Donatello. Buddy. Pal. I love you dearly. You are a beautiful,  fantastic, brilliant person. Let me fucking sleep.” You hissed.

  “...Mmm…Okay. G’night.” There was a click, and Don-bot powered down.

  “Oh thank god.” Raph grunted, shoving his face into his pillow.

  He proceeded to snore incredibly loudly.

  You groaned. 

***

  You blinked your eye open at the sudden silence.

Raph had somehow wound up with his arms tightly wrapped around your arm in his sleep. He was shivering, which made sense considering the cold.

  You were tempted to pry him off so that he wouldn’t be awkward or uncomfortable when he woke up. But he looked so peaceful, and you missed this…

  Plus you were too tired to do anything. So maybe you’d let him stay…

  You’d pry him off before morning though.

***

Day 37.

  Raph was pretty sure that Past Raph had had the hots for you. He’d finished reading through his old sketchbook, and it was full of little paragraphs in the margins and crossed out text where he could just barely make out the word ‘(Y/N)’. 

  He supposed it made sense. He may not have remembered too much of his life, but he had a decent recollection of what pretty people looked like- and you definitely fit that category. Plus, you were funny and cool and sweet….not that it mattered much nowadays. 

  After all, Past Raph and Current Raph’s circumstances were vastly different. So maybe a part of him was tempted to bug you for more info…but he knew enough to just let it be. 

  That was the Old World. 

  In the New World, trivial things like relationship status mattered very little. 

  (Still, was it really asking so much to have someone who’d hug him? Was he so wrong to wish for a hand on the shoulder once or twice, the way you always were in those goddamned photos?)

  (Meh, probably.)

  He hugged himself, staring up at the ceiling. 

  “Oh hey, you’re awake!” You grinned, poking your head into the Shellraiser. “Mornin’ Sleeping Beauty! Breakfast is inside if you want it.”

  Raph sat up slowly. “Okay…”

  “How’re you doing?” You said as you led him across the yard. It was still cold and dark out, and Raph shivered.

  “...Tired.” He grunted.

  “Understandable.” You nodded. “I’ve been pretty tired too, but it’s so hard to sleep when it’s so freakin’ cold at night and like, a million degrees the instant the sun rises.” You complained, passing him a plate of eggs from the remaining unmutated chickens. 

  “Says you, the one who's warm-blooded.” Raph teased.

  “Oh shit, you must be so cold at night!” You said, seeming to have just remembered that Raph was a reptile. 

  “Freezing.” Raph nodded. 

  “Maybe Don can build a heat lamp!” You suggested. “They’re still in sleep mode right now, but we can ask when he wakes up.”

  Raph perked up. “Wait, that exists?”

  “Yeah, shit- I can’t believe I didn’t think of that like…forever ago. I guess I forgot that you’re cold-blooded…and now that Donnie is…non-blooded, it must’ve slipped their mind too…I’m so sorry Rafa!” You exclaimed.

  “Wait. So this WHOLE TIME I could’ve NOT frozen my tail off every night?!” Raph groaned.

  You shrugged weakly. “...Yup.

  “This is so stupid.” He sighed, stabbing his eggs with one of his sais.

  “Dude…you're using that as a fork?” You cringed.

  Raph scowled. “Well it’s not like I know how to use it as a weapon anymore.”

  “But…but…Raph you have stabbed through people with those! There is no way that that’s even slightly sanitary!” You squeaked.

  He shrugged and ate his breakfast off the end of the sai. 

  You looked ill. “You are… such a teenage boy. Please stop.”

  He sighed but swapped the sai for a fork. “Okay, okay. Jeez.”

  “Thank you.” You groaned, patting his shoulder unconsciously.

  And suddenly it felt like his brain had short circuited.

  Oh god, he remembered you. 

  How could he have ever forgotten you?! All the memories shot into his brain at record speed- sitting on a fire escape with your arm around his shoulders, spray painting the side of TCRI, making fun of Casey and Donnie’s crushes on April, beating up bad guys, the look on your face- that toothy grin that you never ever wore theses days, a familiar hand resting comfortingly on his shoulder- and oh god, he remembered you!

  “I- I…(F/C)!” He gasped. You jerked your hand away guiltily, but he caught it before you could. “(Y/N). Your favorite color is (F/C)!”

  “W-what?” You said, eyes wide.

  “(Y/N) I remember! I-I remember you! Not everything probably, but- but I remember you!” He exclaimed, gripping your hands in his.

  Your eyes widened even further. “Raph, you- what?!”

  He grinned and hugged you to his chest as tightly as he could. Tentatively, you relaxed into it, rubbing his shell gently.

  “I remember you!” He exclaimed. 

  You nodded, still looking baffled. “Like…what?”

  “I remember how we met- I fell onto your fire escape! A-and I remember eating breakfast here with you and talking about…well, something, probably, but it was definitely here at this table! And I remember…I had this pet turtle, right? I think his name was…Slash? No! Spike! Slash was the mutant…? Whatever! I remember you sitting….uh…there, by that broken window, and I drew this picture!” He grinned, holding up a page in his sketchbook. It was a portrait of you, with soft shading and a bold outline. 

  “Woah, Raph?! You just- remember all this?!” You said, still staring in disbelief.

  “Bits and pieces, yeah- I think it was ‘cause you…you know, touched me. It’s like…muscle memory? I dunno. Might hafta ask Donnie…”

  “Raph!” You grinned, hugging him tightly. “I just- wow! This is so cool, I-”

  “Woah, are we interrupting somethin’?” Said a familiar voice.

  You and Raph jolted into defensive positions, hopping up to face the person-

  And then your brain seemed to short-circuit.

  “Casey?” You squeaked. “CASEY!”

  “(Y/N)! RAPH! Dude I can’t believe we finally found you!” Casey shrieked just as loud, diving in to grab you and Raph in a messy group hug.

  You grinned, hugging your friends close. “Casey Jones, I’m so glad you’re okay- fuck man, I thought you must’ve gotten kraang-ifed…”

  Raph pulled away, staring at Casey. “You’re…the skeleton dude- Casey Jones?”

  “Uh, no duh- who else would I be?! Casey Jones is in the flesh babeeyy!” He grinned, pumping his fist.

  “Raph…uh…hit his head in the mutagen bomb, Case’.” You mumbled, and Casey’s grinning facade shattered.

  “Oh. Shit.” He said, staring at Raph. “Do you remember…like…anything?”

  Raph shrugged dejectedly. “...Some of it. I remember…you and I would spray paint, I think? I remember a lotta (Y/N) apparently…I’ve got some vague recollections of Donatello, mostly their nerd-stuff…”

  “Jeez man. That’s…depressing as fuck.” Casey said, blunt as he’d always been.

  “Yeah.” Raph grunted.

  “So…is it just you?” You asked, fearing the worst.

  “Naw, I just found you guys first.” Casey  smiled. “Red n’ Angel are searching upstairs…but I hear them coming down right….now.” He said, nodding right as the sound of two people tripping and falling off the treacherous stair-rope Donnie had installed.

  “Oooh.” You and Casey winced.

  “How ‘bout you? Any sign of the others? …Where’s Donnie?” Casey’s voice lowered for the latter, in an anxious tremor.

  “Dee’s….fine. They just…look different than they did last time…you saw them. And…they’re pretty insecure about it.” You mumbled.

  “Casey! Casey, we found evidence of someone upstairs- (Y/N)?! Raph!” April said, running into the kitchen as she noticed you. “You guys are here!”

  “C’mon O’Neil, rule one of bein’ a ninja is ‘Don’t ever question the vague instructions you get from graffiti’. Didja ever doubt it?” You teased, grinning.

  “I-I was so worried, guys! I thought that since my psychic powers stopped working-”

  “Woah, how’d that happen?”

  “Too many big auras now. They’re impossible to tell apart…trying just gives me a headache.” April explained. “But I thought it meant that you might’ve been dead…” She whispered, and Casey put an arm around her shoulders.

  “Woah. So this is your turtle, Case’?” Said a new voice, and a teenage cat mutant leaned into the kitchen. “Hi.”

  Raph only grunted in response, and the cat mutant that must’ve been Angel nodded. “Fair.”

  “So where is Dee then?” Casey said.

  “Shellraiser. In…uh…sleep mode.” You said. “I’ll go get him…but would you guys mind…shit this sounds wimpy. But could you guys…come with me?” You muttered. A part of you was 100% convinced that the instant you left them they would all fade away.

  But Casey, who would usually make fun of you for such a childish request, slung his other arm around your shoulders- and you realized he probably felt exactly the same. 

  “Sure thing.” He said, smiling softly.

  “Thanks guys.” You beamed.

  You were finally smiling the way you did in the photographs.

  Raph couldn’t help but smile too. 

***

  When Donnie woke up from sleep mode on Day 37 of the Mutant Apocalypse, he was greeted by four familiar faces- two of which were the only faces he’d seen at all in the past month, and two of whom were what convinced him that they were probably somehow dreaming. 

  But they were a robot, and dreaming wasn’t physically possible anymore.

  So that meant this must, somehow, be real.

  “Hey Donnie.” Said April, smiling at him, and he wanted to cry even though he didn’t have eyes.

  “‘Sup Don.” Said Casey, grinning his gap-toothed grin that looked so much like Donnie’s old one.

  “You’re here.” Donnie whispered, feeling his new antennae shoot up. “Holy chalupa you’re HERE?!” 

  You smiled, helping him up. “Hey Dee, I forgot to tell ya- we’ve got company.”

  Donnie stared at the humans. They were here. He had so many questions, but most importantly-

  “D’you guys like the new look?” He chuckled, only half joking.

  Casey shrugged. “It’s different, but it looks metal as fuck.”

  “Yeah that’s ‘cause it is metal, ya meathead.” Said Raph, smiling.

  “It looks so cool Dee.” April said, smiling warmly. 

  Donnie really really wished they could still emote right about now, because the dopey grin that they would have grinned for that was unreal.

***

Day 40.

  You and Raph lay on the roof of the farmhouse, watching the red sun set, leaving the sky that weird glowing purple color that it had begun to adopt.

  (It really did remind you of some of those old Space Heroes episodes.) 

  “I really miss the stars.” You said lightly. “But I guess this is sorta pretty too, huh? In like…a weird way.”

  “Hey, isn’t that true for all of this shit?” Raph said. “I really miss the stuff in those photos, those glimpses I get of the life we had before…but hey. In a weird…sort of fucked up way…this life is kinda nice too. Don’t get me wrong. It’s really frustrating, I hate my brain most of the time, and I’m like 90% convinced that I’ll never really be the same person…but at least I’m not alone in it, y’know?” He sighed.

  You took his hand, squeezing it gently, and he squeezed back, and continued. “I’ve got you and Donnie. I guess now I’ve got Casey, Angel, and April too, and if they survived, who's to say my brothers didn’t?”

  You nodded. “Yeah…I guess if we’re out here on this road to nowhere, there’s no one who I’d rather have on my side.” You chuckled half-heartedly. “Still sucks though.”

  “Yeah, it really does.” Raph agreed.

  You smiled and pulled him into a side hug, suddenly swallowed by bittersweet nostalgia for those days when the biggest threat was Shredder.

  But hey, Raph had a point. 

  At least the outcome, well perhaps a huge downgrade from the breathtaking beauty of the stars, was still sorta pretty.

  At least you were on the road to nowhere together.

***

Author's note: I am so glad that Mutant Apocalypse was made into an AU. If it had wound up as the canon ending, that would be...messed up, man. But I like it as an AU, and I hope you've enjoyed journeying through it with me- it's a sad sad ride, but boy did I have fun writing it.

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Weather the Storms

Wylan van Eck x Jesper Fahey

Summary: my take on the van Eck reveal with Show!Wesper

Word Count: 2104

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, mention of Jan van Eck's shitty parenting

“Do you think I'd give up?

That this might've shook the love from me

Or that I was on the brink?

How could you think, darlin', I'd scare so easily?” - Francesca, Hozier

~

“Are there any questions?” Kaz turned towards the three Crows sitting behind him. 

Nina raised her hand and said, “Yeah, I’ve got one. Who’s the job for?”

“The Merchant Council. Specifically Jan Van Eck.”

“The Merchant Council?” Jesper scoffed. “They’re not gonna pay up.”

“They will,” Kaz stated. “Because we have insurance.”

“Insurance?” Nina asked. 

Kaz turned his gaze on Wylan. “Jan Van Eck’s son. Everyone, Wylan Van Eck.”

Wylan felt the world crash around him. He knew people were talking, but it all sounded like they were underwater. Wylan had known, of course, that Kaz had known who he was. Who his father was. But he had assured Wylan he wouldn’t tell anyone his secret. Amidst the panic unfurling in Wylan’s chest, there was burning anger. His eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly as he leveled his gaze at Kaz. 

“Fuck you,” he hissed out before jumping up from his stool, knocking it down in the process. He knew Nina and Jesper were watching him, but he didn’t care. He needed to get away from the suddenly too stuffy bar. He pushed through the door connecting the club to the Slat and rushed up the stairs to the room he now shared with Jesper. 

Wylan slammed the door behind him and began pacing, muttering to himself. But he wasn’t alone for long. 

~

Jesper’s head was swirling with emotions: shock, betrayal, anger. Anger towards Kaz, anger towards Wylan. How could they keep this from him? After Wylan’s abrupt departure, Jesper followed after him, not hearing anything Kaz was saying to him. 

He pushed open the door to the shared room and found Wylan pacing. 

“Wylan.”

He spun around. “Jes-”

“You lied to me.”

Wylan looked shocked. Jesper scoffed internally. Why should he look so upset when he’s the one who lied?

“I never lied to you,” Wylan said, taking a step closer to Jesper. 

“Oh, no? Because from where I stand, this feels like a pretty big fucking lie! What, did you not trust me?”

“No, Jesper, you know I trust you-” Suddenly they were both yelling. 

“Then why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to, I just-” He cut himself off, his eyes becoming glassy. 

“When, Wylan? When were you going to tell me? When were you going to tell me that your father is one of the richest Merchers in Ketterdam?” When Wylan didn’t answer, Jesper scoffed and shook his head. “What are you even doing in the Barrel? Why would you choose to be here when you could go back to a big mansion on Gildenstraat?”

Wylan’s posture straightened and he took a deep breath. Definitely a Merch, Jesper thought bitterly. 

“You don’t know what it was like in that house, Jesper. No one chooses life in the Barrel.” And with that, Wylan walked out of the room, slamming the still-open door behind him. The door slammed so hard the oil lamp on the bedside table rattled dangerously. 

Jesper huffed and flopped down on the bed. 

~ 

Jesper was languishing in his room, twirling his revolvers around. He was still angry- no scratch that, he was still furious, at Wylan for keeping such a big secret. He was also mad at Kaz for not telling him earlier. But he was thinking. It just didn’t make sense. Why would Wylan be in the Barrel if his father was one of the most influential men on the Council? 

Ketterdam’s never really felt like home to me.

What was Wylan’s childhood like? Was it really so bad he felt unloved? He thought about the look in Wylan’s eyes when Jesper found out he couldn’t read, the fear that radiated off of him. He thought about Wylan’s tendency to flinch at loud, sudden movements, like the yelling common around the Barrel or the thump of Kaz hitting his cane against a table. He thought about how Wylan panicked any time his neck was touched.

He was missing something. Something huge.

Jesper was also starting to get worried. Night was falling and Wylan still had not returned to their room. Jesper may be angry, but he still cared about the younger man. What if he went back to his father’s house? What if he got jumped in the street? What if another gang attacked him? What if-

“Jesper.”

He jolted at the sound, but relaxed when he saw who had called his name. “Inej!” She was standing by his window, leaning against the sill. Jesper took three big strides across the room and wrapped her in a hug. “When did you get in?”

“This morning,” she replied. “Kaz had me running errands all day. Otherwise I would have dropped by sooner.”

Jesper’s hands fell back to his sides. “I’m assuming he caught you up on this new job?”

“He did.” She took a seat on the bed. “I know you’re angry, but you have to talk to him.”

“Who, Kaz?” Inej shot him a look. Jesper sighed and sunk onto the bed next to her. “You knew? Stupid question, of course you knew.”

Inej glanced to the side before saying, “Kaz had me tail him for a while, when he first surfaced in the Barrel. He couldn’t figure out what he was doing working in the tannery. So he sent me looking for information at the Van Eck estate.”

“What did you find?”

She sighed. “Not much. Van Eck pays his employees too well to get information out of them. All they would tell me was that the boy was attending music school in Belendt.”

“But- He’s not?”

“And that’s why I turned to the rumor mill. The only one that seemed to stick was that he had run off with one of his tutors.” She saw the hurt behind Jesper’s eyes. “But I wouldn’t put any kruge on that. Go talk to him. Ask him.” 

Jesper scoffed. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Inej took one of Jesper’s hands in her own. “Jes, I see how much you care for each other. How much you love each other. Don’t let him slip away because of a fight. Life brings us many storms. Love is what gets us through them.”

~

Jesper practically flung himself down the stairs of the Slat, the need to talk to his boyfriend practically burning him from the inside out.

“He’s not here.”

Jesper spun around to see Kaz leaning on his cane by the bar. “But you know where he is?”

Kaz was silent for a minute before sighing. “Look, Jes. I hadn’t predicted that you and Wylan would grow as close as you have. And I assumed he had already told you.”

Jesper knew that was as close to an apology as he would get from Kaz. “Where is he?”

“The workshop.” As Jesper wrenched open the door, Kaz called, “Oh, and Jesper? Don’t fuck it up.”

A small smile crossed Jesper’s face. He may not say it in as many words, but Kaz cares about his Crows.

~

When Jesper reached the workshop, he started pounding on the door, panting. “Wylan! Wylan, it’s me! Please open the door!”

Jesper heard the locks being undone, but was not greeted with the face of his boyfriend. Instead, he was met with an angry-looking Nina Zenik. 

“Nina? What are you doing here? Where’s Wylan?”

Nina crossed her arms over her chest. “Kaz sent me to check on him after he ran out of the Slat. His little heart was going so fast I thought he would go into cardiac arrest. When I finally caught up to him, he told me that the two of you got into a fight. And you know what the first thing he said to me was? He apologized. He apologized for who his father is, something he can’t control any more than you or I,” she jabbed at Jesper’s chest, “can control being born Grisha.” Nina sighed and took a step back. “I don’t know what his childhood was like, but Wylan’s been abused. Profoundly abused.”

Jesper looked down at his feet, his face flushing with shame. “I, um, I came to apologize.”

Nina opened the door a bit more and stepped to the side. “Well, he’s asleep now. I had to calm him with how much stress and anxiety he had.” As Jesper walked down the stairs of the lab, Nina said, “Oh, and Jesper? You break his heart or hurt him again in any way, I will make you piss your pants in front of the entire club. Understood?” After Jesper nodded, Nina walked out of the workshop, slamming the door behind her. 

Jesper walked over to the shitty little mattress in the corner of the room where Wylan was laying. He sat on the edge of the makeshift bed, brushing his hair away from his eyes. Even in his Grisha-induced sleep, there was a divot of worry between his brows. Jesper reached out and smoothed over the worry-line. 

Wylan started to stir. He rubbed at his eyes. “Jesper?”

“Hey, Novice,” Jesper said, smiling at his boyfriend. He grazed Wylan’s cheek with the back of his hand. 

“What-what are you doing here?” Wylan asked, sitting up. “I thought you were angry.”

Jesper took a deep breath. “I was, at first. But it wasn’t so much you I was mad at, more the situation,” he admitted. At Wylan’s confused expression, he continued, “For as long as I can remember, people have been keeping things from me. Kaz especially. I’m always the last to know about plans, about jobs, about secrets. And you know how I tend to act on impulse.”

Wylan looked down at where Jesper had taken his hand and linked their fingers together. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“Hey.” Jesper tilted Wylan’s head up so he could look in his eyes. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. You’re right, no one chooses life in the Barrel. I should have heard you out. I should have listened.”

Wylan took a shuddering breath. “Wylan van Eck is dead. He died in the harbor three years ago, and was reborn as Wylan Hendricks.”

“What? Wylan, what are you talking about?”

Wylan looked up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. He exhaled shakily before saying, “He told me he was sending me to a music school in Belendt. He sent me with two of his staff. Once we were on the boat and far enough out into the harbor, they tried to kill me. The only thing I could do was jump off the boat and swim.” Wylan shivered and squeezed Jesper’s hand, and Jesper wrapped his free arm around his shoulders. “The water was so cold. I thought I would drown out there. But I made it to shore. I survived. My father tried to have me killed, and I survived.” he let out a bitter, hollow laugh. 

“I’m sorry, Wy,” Jesper said, rubbing his shoulder. “I had no idea.”

“I didn’t want to tell you because I was scared,” he admitted. “I was scared you’d see me as some dumb Mercher’s kid in way over their head. I was scared you’d leave me.” Wylan started picking at a hangnail as the air between them grew static. 

Jesper swallowed back the lump in his throat. “Wylan-”

“I-I’m not trying to guilt you into staying, if you want me to move out, I will. I’ll start packing my stuff-”

“Whoa, whoa, Wylan! Who said anything about leaving or moving out?”

Wylan looked up at Jesper, his eyes misty. “You don’t want me to move out?”

“No,” said Jesper, cupping Wylan’s face in his hands. “I want you to stay. I want you to come back home. You mean the world to me, Wy. No little argument is going to stop me from loving you.”

“You love me?” he whispered, almost as if he was afraid it wouldn’t be true if he said it too loud. 

Jesper smiled. “Yeah, Wylan, I love you.” Saying it out loud was probably the easiest, most thrilling thing Jesper’s ever done. More than rolling the dice, more than pulling the trigger. And seeing Wylan’s face light up in a smile made it all worth it. 

“I love you too, Jes.”

Jesper kissed Wylan’s forehead, gripping both of his hands. “Can we agree, no more secrets between each other?”

“Yeah. No more secrets.” 

Jesper laughed, giving Wylan’s lips a quick peck. “Let’s get back to the Slat before Nina makes Kaz send a search team, yeah?”

[moraloreldeservedbetter]

Little late to the party as always but I'm here for the father's day prompt.

Geez… The fathers of Moral Orel….

First of all, I agree that I want to see Karl's character expanded.  I mean, he's a really bad father, but mostly I want to know why he's a father.  Why did Karl and Kim decide to have Doughy?  Was it an accident and they carried to term, took care of him for a while, then abandoned him because it would lead to less judgment than not keeping the baby would have?  Or did they have Doughy on purpose because it's the logical next step after getting married, and all the cutest couple have a baby because babies are cute, and then they realized that a child was a lifelong commitment and a responsibility they didn't want, so as soon as he was out of that cute baby phase and didn't make them look like an adorable couple with something helpless to nurture, they pushed him to the side?  Karl certainly doesn't like him in the house, so maybe he liked the idea of a baby before he realized a baby demands a lot of attention from its mother and he got jealous and angry and kicked him out as soon as he could?  Idk, but it's a question I would love to see answered.

Another father in the show that I think is super underrated is Sal Figurelli.  He has two kids, his wife ran out on him once, and he's part of the only black family in Moralton.  And yeah, the Figurelli's are the focus of God's Image, but it's not actually about them.  It's a criticism of using religion as an excuse to be racist, which is a good message, but I think it raises more questions than it does answers.  We know Mr. Figurelli is a hard worker and business owner who doesn't let things get to him despite the odds the town throws at him, but we don't know what his relationship is with his children beyond 'they work with him sometimes' and 'Billy trusts him enough to run to him when Susie hits him', but their mom wasn't home when that happened so who knows who he chooses when the opportunity arises.

I also wish we had seen more of Tommy's family in general, especially his dad since his mom was shown much more in "God's Blunders."  They seem to really care about their son, they're just so mired in the dogma of Moralton to actually put that love into action.  And Tommy being so smart and curious makes me wonder if his dad used to bring him home books because he asked for them.  I can really see Tommy's parents getting him the science books he asks for to make him happy, even if they think his IQ is too low to actually understand what he's reading (even though that couldn't be further from the truth).  Idk, I know the Littlers aren't the best parents to Tommy, but given the other parents of Moralton, they actually seem like some of the good ones.  I mean, they could stand to listen to their son more often, because if they did they'd realize just how brilliant he is, but at least they're willing to spend time with him and they do things to protect him when they think he might be a danger to himself.  I demand to know more about Mr. Littler.

Then, there's my obvious curiosity about Art Posabule.  If he's the Bloberta to Christina, I wonder what his brand of neglect entails.  I like to imagine that Art is largely apathetic to his family and would rather lock himself in his study and drink.  The only reason I even think Art spanks Christina the way Clay spanks Orel is because Poppet tells him to and he doesn't care enough to argue about it (my big headcanon about the Posabule household is that Poppet feels that she needs absolute control of her family, from choosing what they wear, to dictating where they go, to even wanting a lock on every door so she can control who can come in/leave rooms, and Art is a huge enabler who never says no to her because he doesn't feel the need to).

Also, Bloberta's dad.  I would say that he seemed like a good parent that was only held back by what an abusive relationship (to what extend, I don't know, but definitely emotionally), but I do think he might actually be playing favorites also.  Maybe it's out of spite; a sort of "my abuser like these children, so I'm going to choose the one she doesn't like as much" but even so, I feel like the roles would be swapped if he were the one in control instead of his wife.  He was a good dad to Bloberta, which is great!  But I feel like if he had his way, then Lunchbox and Modella would have been the miserable ones.  Maybe I'm wrong, and he would have loved them all equally, but it's hard to see, since we only see him after he's already been broken into a nervous wreck who can't even accept love from his own daughter because he's so anxious and traumatized. Kinda wonder if his choose to marry his wife was just as pressured onto him and manipulative as Bloberta was to Clay. It would be interesting because then his beloved, favorite daughter would have turned into the same monster that hurt him so much, and seeing her neglect her kids the way her mother neglected her might actually break his heart, given how much he cared for her. I'll bet he feels really sad and guilty because he couldn't get his wife to treat her better, and then Bloberta wasn't able to break the cycle. I know Bloberta is a grown woman who made those choices on her own, and there's no one to blame for her neglect towards Orel, Shapey, and Block besides herself, but I get the feeling the abuse he went through would make him think it was his fault. I just feel for the guy so much, tbh. His wife is a horrible abuser to him and Bloberta, and given the way she snapped at Modella when she thought she sang off-key, possibly all her children, and he seems to blame himself for not stepping up even though nobody, not even the viewers, knows what she might do if he does step up.

Anyway, this is far too long and SO wordy but I'm very curious about the side families in Moral Orel.  They all seem to have their own problems, so it's interesting to see fathers like Mr. Figurelli and Tommy's dad, who aren't always fantastic but do seem to genuinely love their kids.  It's a shame we didn't get to see most of them as fathers.

(Also as an extremely side note, it would have been interesting if they expanded upon Marionetta's family, since we know she has a baby sister and a dad, but we never saw her mom.  So shout out to Marionetta's dad for being the only other single father in Moralton besides Putty?)

OH MY GOD

YES

FINALLY

god this needs to be explorered more in this fandom!!

[billyboyblue]

Hiii! 💛

I'm back on duty and I'm here to tickle the collective fandom brain.

With Presumed Innocent coming out soon (aaaah), I would just like to hear all your thoughts on Rusty. 

Is he guilty? If so, would we still do unholy things with him (duh, obviously)? Or is he just an innocent little guy and only guilty of cheating and murdering pussy? He obviously likes being choked and I'm not complaining. What else might he like? Is he a pancakes or bacon/scrambled egg breakfast kinda guy? He does need his protein tho, for several reasons... 👀

Please let me/us know all your thoughts and hopes for the new show and the character we're blessed with this summer, thank youuuu.

Paying my Rusty tax for inspiration ✨

Hi there hi!! Thank you so much for asking dude that's so considerate of you, I'm smiling like a loon whenever I see a little ditty about Jake going around 😊.

Oh yeah, so Rustholomew Jones Sabich the third is a full on useless man. And he expressed it multiple times in so many ways. The first thing we see is him looking for his phone first thing in the morning. What a dumb thing for a cheating man to do, lose his phone even in his own home. And then he asks someone to call it and it's his daughter that does so. Even for a little joke all I saw was chekovs gun.

Okay so I got insanely curious about the original after Jake's recent interview and watched it tonight and gosh yeah I'd recommend if you haven't seen it for Harrison's voice of nothing else, but in the movie there's a segment where he, Sabich, spells out the prosecutor's theory on himself and it's exactly what everyone sees in the new version. A jealous man driven mad with love and obsession pushed too far when left for another man. It's basically what's teased in the new trailer.

But what's different is the circumstances of the wife's role. I have 3 very specific moments I want to focus in on, this one:

The two times Rusty and Barbara look to each other with smiles on their faces and in the worst circumstances. One while on trial in front of the family and the other while presumably blowing up his mistress' phone on family night. One thing that immediately came to mind was huh. That's weird. Then this

Here she's saying that He and Her will fight to save their family. And he's puppydogging along as culpable as all hell doing his due repentance to save his family. As he should but also as he has no other choice because I believe that the murderer is his daughter or son. I'm leaning towards daughter as she didn't exist in the movie, she's an added layer to the plot directly drawn attention to 3 separate times in the trailer.

So what I think happens is this. Carolyn and Rusty begin their affair and it goes south, my instinct is something happens between Rusty's phone, his daughter and Carolyn to cause the strife. On the night Rusty texts her 30 times the daughter is there confronting Carolyn and struggle maybe?

Either way Carolyn is dead the daughter is responsible and now Rusty and Barbara have to close ranks. Rusty poses her in like a victim in a prior case to throw the cops off the trail.

To shine a bright suspicious spotlight on Rusty. To make it look like a multitude of things. It could be a prior killer seeking to mess with authorities and Rusty; it could be someone framing Him with the case they began their affair during; it could be rusty himself messing with the crime scene to mess with motive, (something the prosecution accuses him of doing in the movie). But really it's all a red herring to cover for his daughter and falling on the sword one way or the other. Either covering up a murder he's responsible for to protect his daughter or go to jail for a crime he didn't commit for his daughter.

I won't spoil the movie or who the killer is in it but hoo boy does it hit hard with an ending monologue and epilogue. I definitely wouldn't be surprised if the modernizing done was from the murderers standpoint. Either way I'm hoping for a good mystery over audience subversions.

There's something about pathetic men and the power trips they go on when they think they've found a space they can lose all the tie ups and inhibitions and insecurities. The euphoric rushes that come with secrets and taboo midnight confessions, panted and whined and gasped into a lovers mouth. The stinging ache of shame that splatters across his chest and cheeks as he's tied up and torn into like a present for a greedy hand make him feel that same warmth he used to get from being a good man and husband.

The sharp hatred and ragged words he fucks into Carolyn's more than accepting places feel like a balm on his soul. Not just the filthy things he says to her, or the shapes he folds her into, or the marks only he can leave are enough for men like him. They eat their obsession whole. Consume them to fill up all the hollow places they themselves carved into their life.

And that's what some men do. Use up the women in their lives in every way, stealing their life force ala Gone Girl like @ Stephendorff mentioned. It'd be beautiful poetry if after discarding his wife for Carolyn, and Carolyn for his daughter, that he pays that price.

But that's just a theory a game- no, no it's too soon. Sorry matpat it's too raw. Thanks you again Daphne! Hope I didn't let ya down and you liked the theory lolol😅

[lewis-winters]

If Easy Company is in a Zombie Apocalypse, what would be their choice of weapon and how will they fight?

1. Dick Winters

2. Lewis Nixon

3. Harry Welsh

4. Ronald Speirs

5. Carwood Lipton

6. Buck Compton

7. Don Malarkey

8. Joe Toye

9. Joe Liebgott

10. David Webster

Uhhhhhh last zombie media I consumed was Last of Us and there wasn't really much? zombie fighting in it (bc the focus was on the human condition)? so I am... gonna valiantly try.

1) Dick Winters - I mean. The man wants to be in control at all times. He has multiple weapons for sure. Rifle, of course, classic. But he has multiple knives hidden on his person and an emergency pistol in his belt. He probably prefers the knives + stealth, though, especially if zombies are attracted to sound. If he can kill quietly and quickly, he will. But he just strikes me as the kinda person who just. Would avoid places like cities or crowded towns in the first place and be very strategic about where they'd go? Sure, it's inevitable that you'd run into some festering, shambling corpse somewhere while hunting for supplies but if he has a choice, he will look for the road of least resistance. Even if it'll take twice as long.

2) Lewis Nixon - man's still alive? Dude, the boy has no will to live as it is. He barely survived the first wave by the skin of his teeth. Probably missing a hand after he got bit and Dick refused to watch him turn or murder him. Lewis did not fire a single bullet during the war what makes you think he'd be the same now? He has a knife. That's it. He barely knows how to use it, doesn't want to use it. When in the thick of an attack with the group, he's always in the middle, surrounded by the others, or at the back, where he's most protected. It's a group choice, because he's better at logistics and keeping everyone together. His whole mind is a map, he knows where they'd be safest for a time. Really good at sweet talking and trading with other groups too. He spends half the apocalypse drunk as all hell, but he's otherwise useful. When alone vs. zombies, he'd rather take his chances running.

3) Harry Welsh - something you can find in a gardening shed, probably. A machete? Or a pair of gardening sheers? something that, when you look at it, reminds you of home and is in great juxtaposition to all the gore dripping from it. maybe even a kitchen knife. or, if you want something really fun, a fireplace poker? or the body of a lamp. those long thin iron ones with a strong metal base? sans bulb and shade, dripping gore everywhere. he swings things around aimlessly, whatever gets caught in his path is an unlucky son of a bitch. there's a method to the madness, of course, but... well. even he doesn't know what it is just yet.

4) Ronald Speirs - my dude was in a military base when shit went down, buddy's in a TANK. ok, I kid, but yeah. Rifle. and various pistols........ lowkey? could see him as one of those. end-of-the-world conspiracy theorists pre-apocalypse, who was very much vindicated when the dead started to rise. man is THRIVING in this apocalypse, because he's a weirdo like that.

5) Carwood Lipton - huh. probably a repurposed javelin or something? i hesitate to say sword, because he's doesn't strike me as the sword type, but he definitely strikes me as a 'hit something very hard until the head caves in' kinda guy? or tbh just something boring and reliable, like a sawed off shot gun. he has only a limited number of bullets, so he's not gonna be using it a lot. I imagine when it's manageable, he's using the OH I KNOW. HE HAS AN AXE. YES. boy's from virginia he's a lumberjack for SURE. and that was the first thing he picked up the second the hordes started advancing. he uses the axe when it's manageable, but when the going gets tough, he gets everyone behind him and goes to take out as many as he can with his shotgun. but he works best with a team who has multiple other weapons, for sure. i could imagine him taking the forefront, whacking some zombies, and trusting explicitly those behind him who're offering support thru gun power, not to accidentally shoot him with a stray bullet while he's taking down zombies close range. it takes a lot of trust to do this, I feel. and he has a lot of it. maybe too much.

6) Buck Compton - BASEBALL BAT WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE. NEED I SAY MORE. probably has a few grenades on him as well that he scrounged up. he's got a wicked aim.

7) Don Malarkey - man's still alive? he's barely holding on. he had a gun, but they took it away because they feared he was getting suicidal. he gets something back later on, maybe a revolver, but only a limited amount of bullets. he has a small k-bar knife. but that's about it. sometimes, a very primal rage takes over him, and he can do some damage with just his bare hands, but those moments grow fewer and farther between the more they go on. ya know? life's hard in the apocalypse. before all that of course, he used to be real good at mixing gunpowders and making home made pipe bombs. but ever since skip died. well.

8) Joe Toye - mans has a SWORD and you fucking KNOW IT. it can be anything your heart wants. a katana? sure! a broad sword? whatever you say goes babey! a fucking... claymore? YES!! ALRIGHT!!!! I'm too enthusiastic about this bc I am not above admitting I find Joe's arms hot. all I'm saying is those arms? made to swing around a sword. yes they are. and he's a fucking pro at it too, you just know he is. i dunno if he has his amputation before, or during the end of the world, but both paths have many implications to them, and they'd be interesting to explore.

9) Joe Liebgott - SO FUN FACT ROSS MCCALL WAS ACTUALLY IN FEAR THE WALKING DEAD his character gets shot and killed by Marines and then he turns into a zombie. poor guy got his throat slit. he just wanted to help :((( anyway. Lieb's designated get away driver of the group. his car is the weapon. he's run over HORDES of zombies before, and he'll do it again! he prolly keeps like a small handgun as protection when he's waiting outside for the rest of the group, keeping the engine going in case they need to make a quick getaway.

10) David Webster - a MIRACLE this boy is still alive. he took archery as an extra curicular while he was in Harvard, and he liked it enough to keep up with it until his 3rd year, when it all started. man is constantly picking up arrows after himself. scrounging for new ones. I say... in formation he's definitely at the back, with Nix and Don and they cover for him a lot since he's long distance. but in a pinch he can whack somebody good with his bow. one of those heavy duty hunting ones, too. on his own... well. he probably sticks to high places, or hidden spots where he can get a jump on zombies or anyone else, before they can get a jump on him.