#you’re just proving us right 💀 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

residentflamingo · 4 months

Text

Twice Members’ Favorite Places to Kiss You

Twice x fem! reader

Genre: fluff!!

Warnings: so sweet you’ll get a toothache <3

A/N: I have so many good drafts I want to share with you guys, but my motivation has been at 0% because school has been kicking me in the ass 💀✌️ But lately I have been getting a lot better, so more works are expected to come soon! Which also means I will be opening back up my requests box :D Someone did request me to write something a long time ago, and I’ve been steadily working on it over time. It’s got about 3,000 words on it, so as long as my lazy ass doesn’t put it off to writing it, that draft will be coming out soon as well. Thank you to all of you lovely people who have been patient, and also the ones that have been liking my posts. You guys are phenomenal and I love and appreciate all of you ❤️

Nayeon

Lips ♡

A very standard one, but well suitable for her

She loves how soft and plump your lips are

Like Sana, Nayeon is a very affectionate person

So after she’s had a loooong day at the studio, all she wants to do is give you some repetitive and silly kisses that end up in slow and passionate ones

(Sometimes she’ll even bite your lip if she’s feeling a little bit frisky that night…)

“Oh my gosh I missed you so much Y/N. You won’t believe how many new dance routines they made us learn today.”

Her favorite kinds of kisses are good luck kisses and goodnight kisses <3

(And the passionate ones of course ;)

Nayeon loves how sweet it feels to be able to show her love through a kiss, and be able to feel your soft lips in the process

Kissing your lips make her feel grounded, and wanting nothing more than to spend every moment of every day with you

Jeongyeon

Forehead ♡

Very domestic and homey feeling for her

Her kisses are always very sentimental and sweet

She doesn’t kiss as often as other people, which makes the wait worth it every time

“Here honey, you go lay down and rest. I can do the rest of the laundry for you.”

Always kisses you randomly and making sure it catches you off guard

She loves seeing you all flustered and shy <3

Kissing you on the forehead reminds her of being married to you someday, and just being able to protect you from harm

You are everything to her, and she never wants you to feel anything less than that

And if you’re shorter than her, then it’s an even better reason for her to kiss you on the forehead <3

Will also give you the biggest kiss when she comes home from work 🥺

“I missed you so much honey, what have you been up to?”

Momo

Tummy ♡

When you had previously told her about being insecure about your tummy, you never thought she would take it so seriously

But oh boy how wrong you were

It instantly became Momo's favorite place to kiss you

Momo made sure to always remember it so she could prove your insecurities wrong

She loves how soft and chunky your tummy is, and just can't ever get enough of it

Also loves how much you giggle when she kisses you

If you ever have those days where you're not feeling too great, she will start giving you kisses there first and make sure you feel so loved and beautiful

“You are so beautiful Y/N. Don’t you ever forget it.”

“Your stretch marks are not ugly at all honey I promise. They make you look even more gorgeous.”

She will sometimes leave hickies and bite marks there too, but only when she’s in the mood and you give her permission

If you are also pregnant, she will not hesitate to smother your tummy in kisses then too <3

It would be almost impossible for her to keep her hands off of you

Her end goal is to always make you feel loved, and to remind you that you are the most beautiful woman she has ever set her eyes on

Sana

Dimples ♡

We all know Sana is a very affectionate person. So choosing her favorite spot to kiss you would be impossible right?

Nope not at all for her.

The first thing that had drawn her to you was your radiant smile

But the deal breaker was the dimples that came along with it

She just couldn’t get enough of them

Once you guys had been dating for about 3-4 months, you both had gotten very comfortable with each other and started being all lovey dovey and such

That was when you noticed how much she loved to kiss your dimples

Any chance she could get, she made sure to kiss you in that same spot

It never failed to make you blush every time, and that’s part of the reason why she would constantly kiss you there

She also loves how well they compliment your face, and how adorable they make you look

“Y/N have I ever told you how much I love your dimples? They make you look so cute!” *pinches your cheeks*

Jihyo

Cheeks ♡

She doesn’t mind kissing on the lips. She loves it actually, but she just enjoys kissing your cheeks even more

Jihyo’s kisses are the most genuine ones you will ever feel in your entire life

Sometimes it’s hard for her to say how much she loves you outloud, so she’ll express it through her kisses

When you’re having a bad day and come home tired, she’ll wrap her arms around you and give soft pecks on your cheeks

Or when Jihyo has to leave for early morning dance practice, she’ll slowly wake you up by peppering your face with kisses too

It’s just a super sweet gesture for her, and your puffy cheeks are too cute for her to not kiss anyways

She loves the way you blush when she randomly walks up to you and kisses you

Jihyo adores you so much, even if it’s hard for her to say outloud sometimes

When she does, she makes sure it meaningful, and at the perfect time

“I love you so much Y/N. Even if I don’t say it outloud that much, I really do. You’re my world, and I never want you to feel any lesser than that.”

Mina

Nose ♡–-

When you confessed to her that you hated the shape/size of your nose, she made it one of her top priorities to make you feel less insecure about it

Her shy persona may keep her from expressing a lot of things, but it didn’t stop her from showing her affection for you

You were used to her always giving you warm hugs, and very soft kisses on the lips

But when she added your nose to the agenda, it was game over for you

She loves to kiss your nose when you look super cute, and she can’t handle it

Or when you’re doing something sweet for her like washing the dishes, or doing her laundry. She’ll always find a way to pay you back with affection

“Thank you so much baby. You’re so sweet.”

Over time your insecurities had slowly gone away after receiving so much love and support from her, making your nose the very very least of your worries

Having someone like her in your life made you realize that looks weren’t every thing, and that you never have to worry about when you’re with her

“Honey your nose is so cold. *kisses your nose* Here let me kiss it some more so it will feel warmer...”

Dahyun

Hands/ fingers ♡

Dahyun is very loving and sweet

She loves to hold your hand when you two are walking around Seoul together, or just cuddling on the couch

She loves the intimacy it brings between you two

If she doesn't express her love with words at the moment, she will express it with actions

She'll bring your hand up to her lip and pepper your knuckles, fingers, and whatever else with kisses

Something else that she would never admit, is how she loves the softness of your hands

It reminds her of when she was little, and she would hold her mother’s hand

Dahyun wants you to feel loved and adored by her at all times, even if it’s not verbally

When you guys are at restaurants, she will have no shame holding your hand from across the table and kissing it

“Dahyun be careful. People might see us.”

She’ll just laugh and say, “Let them. Nothing will ever stop me from expressing my love for you darling.”

Chaeyoung

Jawline/Neck ♡

We all know Chaeyoung is a big romantic

And can sometimes be a bit flirty with it too

So it’s no surprise that her favorite place to kiss you, would be the most intimate and steamy

Even though it is her favorite spot to kiss you, she doesn’t really kiss there very often

But when she does, she makes sure to go all out

She loves how intimate it is, and loves hearing/ seeing your reaction every time she kisses in that area

Most definitely will leave hickies too, so be aware when she starts going to town down there

“You like it when I kiss you like this baby?”

You can just already see her smirking while saying that…

She loves riling you up and making you melt from her touch <3

Tzuyu

Ears ♡

Tzuyu is a one-of-a-kind woman, and the sweetest one you have ever met

When you guys first started dating you it stayed at the awkward stage for a little bit longer than most couples

But when she started warming up to you, her affection towards you became even greater

It started with little kisses on the nose, then on the cheek, lips, she eventually progressed to your ears

You thought it was weird at first, but you eventually grew to love it

Tzuyu loves to hug you from behind because of the height difference, and she’ll often whisper in your ear how much she loves you

Sometimes she’ll nibble a little bit too after kissing it, but not very often

If you have slightly larger size ears, she would tease you about it every now and then

But not enough to where you would feel insecure

She just thinks your ears are super cute, and make you even more loveable

"I love you so much Y/N... Don't ever change. You are perfect just the way you are."

401 notes · View notes

thequeenofneverland1 · 6 months

Text

Draco Malfoy///Meant to be

Request by @characterxreaderimagine: imagine being a potter and Draco having a huge crush on you but denies it.. and eventually gets jealous when he here's Fred Weasley is going to ask you out which lead him to confess his feelings for you but.. plot twist is that your brother finds out and wanted to break the two of you up but eventually failed to do so and just warned Draco never to hurt his sister.. a few years later he got an invitation to a wedding 💀

Since a baby, Harry could always remember James telling him to look after you and to protect you at any cost.

Ever since the death of them, Harry promised to himself that you would be his first priority. and that he was going to protect you at any cost.

At first it annoyed you because his overprotectiveness also included scaring all of the guys away.

but little does Harry know that a certain guy that goes by his name Draco has a crush on his sister even though he denies it every time he gets asked.

“So what you're trying to tell us is that you don't fantasize about Y/n, not even a little bit?” Pansy raised an eyebrow clearly not believing him.

Draco laughs as he shakes his head. "Of course not, who does?"

“Everyone, I mean who doesn't? She's really gorgeous, right Pansy?” Blaise replied, smirking as she nodded with a smirk too.

Draco stops laughing and he glares at his friends. “Everyone does? Does it include you guys too?”

Gregory chuckles, "You shouldn't care since you said that you don't fantasize about her.”

Draco rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. "So what?, it’s not like Saint Potter is going to let one of you date his sister.”

Pansy shrugs her shoulders. "I don’t know but I heard Fred is going to ask her out and probably Harry might let him since they are friends.”

“What carrot head is going to ask her out?” Draco growls “Over my dead body that I’m going to let that happen, Y/n is my future wife and the mother of my kids.”

"But you said that you didn-."

“Blaise shut up, I know what I said.” Draco interrupts and he looks over at Gregory and Pansy “don’t think about saying it.”

Pansy pulls her hands up, " I wasn't planning to.”

"but you did say it.” Gregory whispers hoping that Draco didn’t hear since Pansy and Blaise started laughing.

"What are you two laughing about?" Draco asked madly, causing Blaise and Pansy to stop laughing and to come up with something to answer him with.

“A Joke that someone told us I would tell you but I forgot about it after the scare you gave us.” Pansy replies

Draco chuckles, "a bunch of scary cats that I have as friends getting scared over anything.”

"says the one that's scared to ask Y/n out just because he's scared of her brother.” Gregory mumbles quietly but this time Draco heard him

He pushes Gregory causing him to fall down on the ground “I’m not scared of him or anything and you know it really well Gregory.”

“Then prove it by asking her out if you don’t then you are:”

“Of course!!! I am going to do it because I love her and don’t want her to be with carrot head, not because you're asking me to do it.”

“It’s going to be amazing to watch. Hopefully Draco doesn't have his ass beaten.” Blaise said as they watch him leave

“Freddie, are you sure that you want to ask Y/n out? Are you not afraid of Harry? And what he's gonna do?” Ron asked

He smiles, “He won't dare to hurt me because you're his best friend, and I know that you would not permit him to do so if that were to occur.”

“That’s the thing, I'm his best friend but Y/n is his sister. What kind brother do you think Harry is?” Ron looked at his brother hoping that he remembers how overprotective Harry is.

“Yeah that you’re right I just like Y/n really much and didn’t think about that.”

Ron chuckles, “I comprehend you have her in your mind and heart that you almost forgot that you were choosing death over living.”

Ron and Fred started laughing with one another, but they stopped when they saw you and Draco leave together.

Ron looked at his brother, who was frowning, and asked, “Are you all right?” Fred, on the other hand, took no notice of Ron, choosing instead to follow behind Draco and you.

Draco and you went to the courtyard since he told you that he wanted to talk to you in private

“So what is it!?” You asked

Fidgeting with his hands and avoiding your gaze, he seemed to be nervous. Finally, he uttered, “Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

His sudden boldness made you feel taken aback and you couldn't help but smile. "Of course!!!”

A smile spread across Draco's face, but it soon faded when he saw Fred walking towards him and you. “It's carrot head.”

You looked around to see what had caught his attention and saw Fred advancing with a mischievous smirk on his face. You couldn't resist laughing at the sight. Fred was well-known for his pranks and jokes, and it was obvious that he had a plan.

"Hey, guys.” Fred winked at you. “What are you guys talking about?”

Draco intervened before you could respond. “I asked Y/n to be my girlfriend and she agreed.” Draco's demeanor became slightly defensive, causing you to look at him with shock.

Fred raised an eyebrow in anger, but quickly recovered. "Harry will know about this.”

You gazed at Draco with a puzzled look. “What motivated you to tell him that? Mostly it was a lie.”

Draco's expression was serious as he grasped your hands to kiss them. "I have a fondness for you and I don't wish to lose you to carrot head."

“But I don’t like him.” You told him.

“But he likes you.” He tells you back “so do you like somebody?”

"I have feelings for you too, Draco.” He was filled with excitement after hearing your confession.

You spent the rest of the evening talking and laughing, with him and by the time you said goodbye. Harry waited for you in the common with his arms crossed and an angry expression.

“Is what Fred told me about Draco and you dating accurate?”Harry asked with anger

“So what if it is?” You replied

“I forbid you from seeing him and I want you to break up with him.” Harry said before leaving

Dating Draco Malfoy, of all people, was not a good idea for him. He prohibited you from seeing Draco again, but you couldn't stand to think about hurting him. Draco and you are still keeping your relationship secret.

Unfortunately, Harry did find out and confronted you both. He tried a lot of different ways to end things, but he finally gave up when he saw how happy you were with Draco. He warned him not to hurt you because it would make him regret it.

Harry got an invitation to a wedding shortly afterwards. Upon opening it, he came to the realization that it was from his now-brother-in-law, who was inviting him to the wedding. Harry was grateful that they had found a way to come together as a family even after a bumpy start and couldn't help but smile. As he stood at the dancing floor and watched you have your wedding dance with Draco.

#Harry potter #Harry Potter x reader #Harry Potter x Y/n #draco malfoy #Draco Malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #Draco Malfoy imagines #Draco Malfoy x Potter!reader

175 notes · View notes

nijigasakilove · 3 months

Text

Kino the episode. Hoshina backstory and motivations finally revealed, which made his battle against Kaiju number 10 that much more powerful. Not only was he fighting to protect his subordinates and base, but also to prove his doubters wrong and Mina right for believing in him.

While the rest of the Kaiju defense force may use guns, Hoshina’s blades are the perfect pairing for Mina and her fighting style. She’s great against massive Kaiju and he’s a small to medium specialist. Her giving him those words of encouragement probably saved his life and career, no wonder he wants to stand next to her. Both he and Kafka have been massively impacted and motivated by Mina.

Some of the blade cutting sequences reminded me of Captain Levi, they really cooked with all of Hoshina’s scenes and showed the speed and precision he attacks with. The level of skill and attention to detail for every strike didn’t go unnoticed.

But even that wasn’t enough. This felt like a heavyweight fight with both sides just going back and forth. I figured Mina showing up wouldn’t be enough to take out Kaiju number 10, but I didn’t think he’d go all mutually assured destruction and try to nuke the place.

Kafka’s reveal scene was so awesome and very much in character. He didn’t give it much of any thought and just rushed in to save the people he cares about. That impulsive but considerate nature of his is what’s endeared him to so many people to begin with.

The staff COOKED with that iron man esque save the day scene. Production IG have to win animation of the season for the job they’ve done with these big set pieces in this.. and as you’d expect, Kafka’s thanks for saving the day… “you’re under arrest” 💀 I can’t wait to see what the consequences will be

#kaijuu no 8 #kaiju 8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaijuu no. 8 #kaiju anime #kaijuu 8 gou #kaiju number 8 #kaiju #kaiju no 8 #animanga hive #animanga #animangahive

90 notes · View notes

uyuartik · 7 months

Text

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

tags: angst, fluff, arguments, period typical misogyny (of course not from obi wan), just overall wealthy pricks being little shits, the trope of THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, but not really, do you believe in second chances (i don't) (💀), little smut compared to the rest because originally there was no smut in this (but i HAD TO use that idea), REPOST because i fucked up in the first place

a/n: welcome back for the finale!

well, i can't think of anything to say except this has been a blast for me, and i'm so happy that there are those who enjoys this madness as much as i do. hope you like the ending too. thank you all!

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

part one | part two | part three | ao3

enjoy!!!

word count: 8.3K

chapter three: fuck it it's fine!

You don’t board that ship. A slight sickness you excuse, then spend your days sulking at home, still covered by the expanse of your lies. It is not totally untrue, though. You did really wake up with a swollen throat, and that put the integrity of your health during the journey at risk, thus with great grief, canceled the plans. Nobody knew that you’d not even mention the symptom on any other day, just requesting some honey tea and hardly noticing it disappear in the morrow. And it exactly worked out as predicted, more so, without leaving its discomfort for remorse. But after that, the hours stretched out each day, like you were living in a different plane where you were not welcomed. Perhaps you actually weren’t, for if you followed your fate, you’d be eating different foods, and walking foreign corridors. In an attempt to run away from that feeling, you try to socialize just a little, attending even the most dull tea parties. Also, your preference of company has to be specialized now, and that proves difficult sometimes.

So, that’s exactly why you indeed sulk at home, even though all your efforts.

But not tonight.

Then again, perhaps you should've.

His presence has nothing to do with it, to be perfectly clear. On the contrary, he makes it a little endurable. The forced small talk and empty eyes you once feared dearly are not the case, even after your last encounter. Of course, there's a little awkwardness, an uncertainty about where the line of intimacy now stands, shadows of anger and disappointment still darkening the atmosphere, but the overall sensation comes down to longing. You both lost a great friendship, cast it aside in a blink, but your souls don't accept this new arrangement that quickly, trying to fall into the familiar rhythm once more each time you feel your walls break. You don't allow it, neither does he. Yet, it is about the only thing that turns this night into a not complete waste of time. Even a pleasant one, you'd dare say.

If it weren't for literally everything else except this.

The hushed little uninformed jokes start during the dinner. It is the lord of the house that says them, to his close circle, barely hanging onto etiquette he had glimpses of. As minutes tick and glasses of wine roll, that glimpse is gone, and even in your seat at the end of the table, you hear him clearly. The pressed lips and masked mimics pretending not to be aware of it soon become apparent on every face, excluding you and Lord Kenobi. You glower the first time another of the guests feels confident enough to make his dirty contribution to the subject. Typical, you try to stay calm, tapping your fingers on the table. The world is filled with the likes of him, and the last thing they deserve is your attention. The reflex doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he sends a sympathetic smile, showing that you’re not alone and accepting this invitation was a most regretful choice. He uses a few retorts to close the deal, let the dinner continue in different matters- or in silence, that would be fantastic indeed, but his smart wit and slight intimidation work only for a couple of minutes. Now it’s your turn to reflect that sad smile, and you do.

The sadness doesn’t come from the circumstances around you all, though. Your heart feels heavy, for not trying better ways to handle that morning. That guilt will haunt you, drag you into the gloomy pit you’ve been in, and maybe, you should stay there for some time, a penance for your mistakes.

After dinner, when the ladies and gentlemen huddle around different interests, you get a chance to cool off. The soft peals of laughter and giggles fill the room, a much more pleasant sound than the roar of men. You get to entertain others with your stories of other cities you’ve been to, and they tell their interesting incidents, and make fun of their husbands, people who deserve, as their commotion spills out of the walls. The topic of their conversation, marriage, diffuses out into your circle in such a way, that once again, you’re restraining yourself, trying to listen to the problems one of the ladies is complaining of, and not to hear the crude comments going on on the other side. You’re stopped from rushing out of your armchair simply out of respect you have for the woman speaking when you pick up your name passing in their remarks. Plus, Kenobi’s words, you don’t flatter me by offending the lady, reach every ear in the room, sharper than a knife. Your cheeks burn with anger, then with gratitude, and at last, out of embarrassment, because how are you going to explain he’s just doing an honorable thing, that it’s his character to defy ill minds when he sees one, and this has little to do with his “pursuit” of you? Your breaths are shallow and quick as you focus on the discourse, and dodge every attempt to pull the subject towards your relations.

Though, the snake doesn’t give up on eating, even his own tail, it seems.

In less than half an hour, a joke about abduction is whispered, and you surge from your armchair, the screeching sound echoing. You murmur what resembles to be an excuse (you’re still deciding whether they are worthy of one), and send one glaring gaze at the group, enough to make one flinch, and walk out.

Out of the entire house.

Lucky for you, this is a night in which you carpooled with another guest, meaning you only have your own feet to carry you away in this pouring rain.

But of course, that’s not enough to deter you.

You take big steps, enforced by your fury. Thus, the house leaves your sight in no time, but not their audacity, still ringing in your ears. Implications about your freedom. Complaints of wive-hood. Humor about how perfectly reasonable is to get rich, by kidnapping a young woman… (Honestly, after all that, you don’t have mercy for them of the panic they might experience when they realize their guest is not refreshing in another room, and have left the estate altogether. Alas, that guest is you.) You string curses at them, the only form of thinking you have in regard, and feel the bulk of emotions resonate with every stomp, even spilling out of your tear ducts. Your dampening body, and the length of the road don’t make it any easier, feeding your frustration. Your only anchor is your self worth, the reason you began this path in the first place, and you desperately hope it will turn the tide in a while.

Though now, the picture you paint with those foul words and wet clothes isn’t exactly the brightest.

It is still among these moods, that Obi Wan catches up to you. You’re not exactly surprised to see him, his carriage closing the twenty minute distance you put between yourself and that damned house with a speed that you think can’t be that good for the horses in the long run. They stop abruptly at your side, and you have all those insults readied if it turns out to be that fucked up man or polite declines if it is indeed Obi Wan.

But, you can’t speak them. The world feels like it freezes, the raindrops slowing down, and carrying away your burdens as they fall to the soil. The small door opens, and Obi Wan rushes out of it, with an expression that is so honest and raw. His fright vanishes at the sight of you, that scared gaze dissolving, eyebrows relaxing… You can actually see his lips move, Thank God. He is totally undisturbed by the downpour, already making his strands stick to his forehead. His hands find yours, and pull you close, almost like an embrace. You look into his eyes, how focused they are on you, as if they could burn you from the inside with their intensity. You have an undeniable urge to kiss him right now, and that has nothing to do with lust, but your wish to undo the last couple of weeks, uphold that strong connection once the two you had. Of course, you don’t, you can’t, thus, you let him lead you inside, and continue towards whatever destination.

Funny, how you feel much calmer doing the thing you thought you wouldn’t. Moreso, you have no woes about it either.

The silence is deafening, but nobody dares to open their mouth, the greatness of the storm of emotions you both are having too heavy on your tongues. He puts his less soggy jacket around your shoulders, you welcome it with a nod. That’s the moment you realize the redness on his knuckles. It’s not hard to guess the scene, and that has your head turned to the floor, processing the entire night. It is also at this moment that you become aware of your fresh tears, still sliding over your cheeks. Even if he notices them, he doesn’t do a thing about it, an indifference you’re grateful for. He just looks out of the window, and contemplates, same as you.

===

The tub filled with hot water doesn’t make you any wetter, but it helps with the temperature. You’re sorry that you exhausted the owners of the inn you had to stay in, (for it was getting impossible to travel in that rain) with this request, but a voice tells you that Obi Wan wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re unbelievably silent as he sorts it all out, staying in your bubble, unintentionally playing the part of the damsel in distress. You listen to his list of requests, for the horses, for three rooms (the best reserved for the lady, he insists), a tub to be prepared for you, and some tea-

“No need.” Your voice is weak, but it is clear. He would’ve protested this answer, but it is the first time you’ve talked after leaving the house, how ironic, and the realization sets deep in both of you. After that, you feel the words pile up on your tongue, but in a blink, you find yourself in a room. Alone.

“So sorry, I thought they gave me this room.” He stands at the door, holding it half open, face turned in the opposite direction.

“Obi Wan.” His gaze hesitantly finds your way again. God, he’s about to kill you with that blues… “Can we talk for a second?”

You name yourself a hypocrite for asking that, in this state, but you can’t breathe with all that untold things if you spend another second without explaining yourself to him, and apologize for all the trouble you’ve caused. And, isn’t this already proof of the trust you have for him, how vulnerable you can be in his presence?

And, there’s nothing he’s not seen before, after all.

He gingerly closes the door, locking it in a swift motion, and makes his way to you. You pull yourself together, and reach for his hand for him to help you out.

“No, stay. Your fingers are still cold.”

You can’t hide the small smile forming on your face as you settle back, careful to keep most of your body underwater. He, ever noble, keeps his eyes straight on your face, which somehow doesn’t help. There’s something about his rolled-up sleeves, the matching three-piece suit down to two for the damp jacket sits behind the chair in your back against the fireplace. His hair is drying up in all defiant shapes, and you have to stop imagining that morning he woke up next to you.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I- I never intended to cause this big of a mess, and make someone clean up after me. Certainly, not you, of all people. You shouldn’t have tired yourself this much, and I’m sorry for it.”

“You can’t expect me to do nothing.” The sentence begs for a dear to be added in the end, and he has to fight his throat to silence himself. Instead, there’s a kind tug at the corners of his lips.

“You’re right.” You nod. “But the truth is, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed to get out, I just couldn’t sit there pretend I didn’t hear all those nasty comments.”

His fist clenches at the reminder, and you once again spot the bruises settling in on his knuckles, filling with the desire to mention them, but you inevitably decide not to. “That asshole-“

”He was obnoxious since the first hour, and loud, but that doesn't scare me, for thus he has proven himself to be just a foul mouthed man. But, that title started not to cover the extent of it- it was too much and I couldn’t take it anymore. You may say it was obvious from the start, but I tried my best to not evolve this into a thing I would regret afterward. And I succeeded.”

“So you don't even regret ever setting foot in that house?”

A tinge of disgust seizes your face, but only for a moment. Even with all those words echoing in your ear, you don't have hatred in your heart, or any remorse. You're not so quite sure about its reason, nor do you wish to be, avoiding all analysis. Like you don't know the basics already. But the sudden change in your expression tells everything. “I don’t think I can ever regret it. At least, not in its entirety.” You say, hugging your knees and lowering your head. Hot steam no longer hits your skin, you realize in your attempts of distraction.

There's a second of silence in the room, despite the thunderstorm raging outside. You are as cold as in the beginning because of it, and you almost contemplate how good of an idea this conversation was, especially under these circumstances.

“I’d say the same.” Obi Wan speaks, and that's when goosebumps rise on your skin. Your eyes meet his, then flutter away quickly, overwhelmed. Does he mean-

Why is him meaning that any different than yours, huh? Why is it any worse when he says it?

“You should get out of there.” He reaches for a towel, and you shyly stand up, turning your back and pressing your arms around yourself. Nothing he hasn't seen before, right? As the coarse fabric is draped around your shoulders, you can’t help but feel afire, the imprint of his hand around your shoulders for a second lingering way more than it should, creating a tingling sensation.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I must return to my room now.” He folds his hands together, like trying to preserve where they’ve touched, and his eyes still stay respectfully up, causing your heart to lose its rhythm. There has never been a scenario that involved nakedness without… sexual intentions, and clearly, it’s not even crossing your minds right now. Your awareness of it takes up all the space in your mind, tosses every other idea out, and leaves you at the mercy of your soul.

“Obi Wan.” Fuck, the way you call his name, it is bound to weaken him every time. “Can you-” Oh, haven't you demanded enough from him? “I- I would like it if you stayed.”

His mouth hangs open for a second, with a subtle sharp inhale. His fingers tighten around each other, then relax all together, hanging free by his side. “Of course.” For all the words that come to his lips, it’s a most simple answer.

Not that you have any complaints.

You’re filled with another kind of thrill, being this open with your wishes, but having no clue whether they’ll take the night, having no clue where you want the night to go, or how to act in this very moment, half covered. You just know that you prefer him, being in the same chamber as you. You’d prefer to listen to his idle talk or slow breaths, than the silence of the room. You’d prefer him to snore in your bed than to picture him in his own, lying awake. (Because let’s face it, it’d take a while for him to surrender to sleep, if left to his own devices.)

He takes a step towards the armchair, unbuttoning his vest and you come back to your senses, stepping out of the tub in the opposite direction, towards the nightgown the innkeeper gracefully lent to you. It’s slightly large for your body, definitely not tailored for someone close to your size, but if Obi Wan ever heard you commenting on the fact, he’d wholeheartedly claim you still looked like an angel. Since you don’t, he doesn’t too, but it’s obvious in the way he takes in your form, a battle of excess fabric against your movements. He has to bury a groan when your sleeve falls down your shoulder, a simple accident. He knows that shouldn’t have been seen by him, or you didn’t do it on purpose, that tonight is not meant for those activities, and it shouldn’t get him so bothered up, but it fucking does. Does it also make him want to slap himself? Yes.

Walking near the fireplace, you wring the excess water from your hair and run your fingers through the strands before rubbing that towel aggressively, for the fact that it is already soggy enough, and is not gonna do much. You despise sleeping with wet hair, it is an invitation for you to get sick, not to mention that you’ll be sharing the bed, leaving frustrating streaks of wetness on the sheets for them.

“Hey, hey, let me help you.” Is he a little bit scared? The answer is another yes. But he’s not gonna stand there and watch you fight with your hair. He takes the fabric, locating the most usable spots, and slowly massages your strands with them. Objectively, it’s not a lot different in terms of overall results, but it does more than that anyway. Despite the forbidden intimacy, despite the question of “How is he so good at it?”, you’re lulled by the constant movements, the tension in your muscles easing off. He keeps you by the fire longer than you would’ve stayed, and that achievement belongs solely to him. Frankly, he too is not sure how long the two of you could stand like that, or put an end to it. All that matters is that your hair is pleasantly damp, less bothersome, and he did that.

To be honest, with each minute he is in your presence; the task of holding onto his manners, respecting his broken heart, and following your lead is getting harder to manage.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyelids barely held open, and he feels like a juggler, suddenly losing his sense of balance, and dropping one of his props.

“You’re welcome.” Perhaps he was the one to thank, for the pleasure. That’s the second prop, falling down.

Still, it’s obvious how that sentence misses a darling thrown out after it.

You climb the bed, and he follows suit. You both favor the edges of the mattress, and there’s a ridiculous distance between both of your bodies, but you’re both too timid to use it, even at the risk of tumbling down.

Only after the urge to find a better position kicks in that you move, and end up just a little closer, face turned to his side.

He’s already turned to you, eyes closed but definitely not trying to sleep, or relax if nothing. He opens them of course, after you rustled the sheets that hard.

“What if I get sick tomorrow?” Admittedly, that’s a silly question, but the scenario occupies your mind. All the elemental factors are present, and you only have a formal dress on your back. Also, the fact that it would be all your fault, yet you are the one to complain? You hate yourself for saying it out loud.

“Then we would stay ‘til you got better.” His point-of-fact words, softened with his bedtime voice, must be annoying. Must be. It is not. It is the raw truth, straight from his core. You won’t disrespect it, (again). “I would take care of you.”

(Doesn’t he, always?)

A shiver runs down your spine.

(He’d name this place heaven, if it allowed you two to stay together a little longer.)

“Obi Wan.” Whispering, trying your best to break that ugly silence, not to crush under the weight of his words, but more importantly to let him know your truths, the alignment of your soul. “I- I never told you how much I appreciated you. Now just today, but especially today.”

He’s trying so hard not to sound rude, or leave you unanswered, but none of them are good enough. Thankfully, you are not expecting one. Your fingers ghost over his knuckles, afraid to hurt him. he’s not even sure you’re doing that, ‘til you hunch over, and press a small kiss over them.

That’s all the acknowledgment he needs, ever. It wasn’t becoming of a gentleman, obviously, but the situation didn’t require gentleman-cy, too. He has no recollection of how his fist ended up in that man’s eye, except for the exact second it happened, feeling his shirt slide from his other hand as the impact sizzled through his bones, and sent the man to the floor. He found himself in the middle of saying God knows what- he still doesn’t have a single clue, and thinks about the possibility of how they’ll resonate, ‘til it reaches his ears once again.

Though, he has no fear regarding that, or the altercation before it. Nor regret.

“I am honored that our names are spoken together, a testament of our likeness.”

The third prop.

It falls, most obviously, but he doesn’t show it. Not under these circumstances. No matter how you try to avoid the subject of love, or a future, he’s burning for it, burning for you. In that moment, it is settled that it’ll always be that way, forever. You’re absolutely crushing his heart, and maybe even crush yours in the process (for which reasons, he’s never sure), regardless of your intentions pointing otherwise, because he knows you’re pushing through your struggles to speak up, select the appropriate expressions, to honor your past. He’s touched by your effort, as well as your words, oh, your words… This is the only compliment he’ll ever accept, and it’s not even meant to be a compliment. Your voice is already etched into his brain, and there will not go a single day he’s not reminiscing about it.

Thus, with such strong emotions, his every muscle twitched with the desire to pull you closer, wrap his arm around your waist, card his fingers through your cool hair as your lips meet. He wants to kiss you slowly, savor your taste and caress your tongue with his, for the sole purpose of being close to you. You, throwing one leg over him… You, falling asleep in his arms as he gets to bathe in your enchanting scent… The feeling of your warm breath against his neck as you take refuge in there… He’s surprised he doesn’t have to chain himself not to act on any of these images.

(Oh, it very much feels like he has done that anyway)

Yet, it is probably the worst night to do so. It has all been too much, and all this on top of that is a recipe for disaster. A disaster he’s been struck with nonetheless, though, perhaps he can spare you from.

When it comes to you, he has always put his heart before his mind, (but never disregarding the latter part. It is the essential element to keep both of you safe, to never compromise your social statuses, to create the optimum atmosphere for your relationship to flourish (by your own unusual standards)). For the first time, he’s not following that code. Even he can’t imagine the consequences if he doesn’t.

You’re glad that nothing has changed. No response from him, no action. His relaxed expression tells you enough; the calmness of his eyes, his slow breaths and the slight curve of his lips… To be honest, you’re relieved to see your words reach their destination but also set with the urge to prove them. To press down your mouth on his, from which you hope for an answer; to hold his hand without causing any discomfort, or simply hug him for a second, eliminating all space between your bodies like your souls.

Alas, the role of the hypocrite is a part you no longer wish to play, and you’re perfectly willing to hurt yourself by not succumbing to your wishes, and refrain him from further confusion.

“Good night, Obi Wan.” You say, fingers grazing over his for the last time, and curl yourself into a ball.

“Good night, my dearest.”

===

The morning is unlike the previous example.

You wake up to him getting up, so there’s no way for you to know if your bodies drifted closer during the night, but considering the position of your arm, extended way beyond the middle, it is quite possible to assume some physical contact was present.

Considering you two are not facing each other, thus acknowledgment of the situation is not a matter, your embarrassment is half of what it should be.

Though, your cheeks burn brighter each second you can’t peel your eyes off of him, filling up the rest of that cup. Watching him walk around, the movement of each chiseled muscle on his back as he puts his shirt and trousers on quickly highlights another impropriety. He is perfection, even in that drowsy state of the human condition, there’s harmony to his every motion, the slow steps he takes, the way the fabric glides against his skin, the subtle fine arrangements of his fingers to make sure it looks decent, even how he breathes causes him to blend into the room, but also bedazzle it in his grace, make him stand out like a crown jewel, a masterpiece of arts that name the place.

You can only stop your ogling once he leans in and stirs the flames, which were already going strong since they were last fed before you went to sleep- wait, that doesn’t seem possible, did he actually sever his sleep to tend to it?

Is there any other explanation you need?

Your heart may flutter out of your chest after this realization, so you skirt out of the blankets. Of course, the sound draws his attention, and you’re caught, forced to react.

Yet, the unstoppable smile forming on his lips inspires a similar response on yours so easily, so naturally that you don’t feel obligated at all. On the quite contrary, that simple mimic banishes any pretense, showering you with reassurance and bravery, the motivation to act on your own true terms, not society’s or the ones you pressured onto yourself.

“Good morning.” The simultaneous greeting pulls a giggle from both of you, and it is all so small, yet so much. You sway away from his direction, casually reaching for your clothes, hoping he doesn’t notice the tremor of your legs when you shed the nightwear and put the chemise on. Because you know, he’s watching you. Divine justice, perhaps.

“Be careful, Obi Wan, I might start to think you enjoy watching me get dressed too much.” The snarky comment, fighting its way out of your mouth further softens the atmosphere, and it is like the first days of spring after a harsh winter, soothing your souls with relief.

“Guilty as charged.”

You shake your head, consumed by his usual forward banter. A scene taken straight out of your past. You shimmy into your dress instead of coming up with a cleverer response.

“You don’t sound sick.” He says, indicating that he’s been paying attention.

Biting your lip, you turn away. “Actually…”

“Is there something wrong?” He ends up right beside you in a blink, as if the world changed by your unfinished sentence.

Your heart picks up a different rhythm, hands raised in position to tie your ribbon but frozen. “It’s nothing, my throat just feels-”

“Do you want me to call a doctor?”

That was the exact reason why you started with it’s nothing. Alas… “No, it’s probably just my overthinking and coming up with strange sensations.” And if not, it depends on how well you spend tonight, so there’s not much room for intervention. Definitely not in medical terms.

“Pity.” His comment makes you scoff. After that, you can’t reward him with your concerns, can you? It is funny, ugh.

“Let me help.”

Your heart can’t get any rest as the tension simply changes garbs, his fingers trailing over yours and leading a 180° turn, leaving a blazing line along your skin, to tie the ends of your ribbon together. Your arms tentatively fall to your sides, not sure what to do with their freedom. His breaths lick your neck while he attentively, slowly smooths his creation, and you’d probably freak out if you weren’t so focused on the sheer range of his skills.

(Also the mystery of how he comes to acquire it, but it’s only the deep, dark parts of your mind speaking. Moreover, you do not pride yourself in a position to be jealous. You absolutely are, on that tiny level, and no, you’ll never admit it.)

Though, you’re not gonna comment on that, not when your heart threatens to fly out of its cage. The sacredness of the action brings back the echoes of your concerns, not a single one strong enough to overtake you, but the cacophony of them loud enough to occupy the entirety of your capacity.

All that talk of past times… Coupled with a little hesitancy, and how the tables turn…

“T- thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Like he just didn’t flip the dynamic, he carries on with his outfit, tying his cravat. His beautiful hands work expertly, effortlessly, and the result is perfect, even without a mirror, eyes on you the entire time.

“Is it looking fine?”

“Yes.” You meekly answer. It is decent, like he always is. Somehow witnessing that feels as sensual as the previous scene, pulling you further down the whirlpool.

Embarrassed enough already, you busy yourself with your hair, accepting the mess that it is, and decide on a simple bun, as much as possible. The practiced moves bring you some sense of calmness and control, even if the result isn’t perfect. The silence helps too, along with his occupancy of tidying up the room.

“Do you want to have some breakfast?” He asks. God, how does he still sound that cheery?

“No, thank you.” You don’t want to keep your father worrying any longer, and it’s not like you’re going to faint. The memory of your last food in the most unpleasant company is still strong enough to expel any thought of hunger.

That answer may be the clearest thought you’ve ever had this morning, yet it is the one that whispers doubt into his heart. You are silent, turned away from him, and far too engrossed in whatever unnecessary thing you’re doing. Because now, he fears that if the two of you leave this room, this building, all your lives in it will be a part of the history, never to be repeated or worse, mentioned again, lost in the torn pages. The joke about residing here for however long- seems awfully bitter, perfectly demonstrating he’d rather hold on to the possibility than put an end to this.

How could that be love?

Perhaps you were right, accusing him of madness.

That’s the only reason he walks out of the room to prepare the carriages, instead of cocooning the both of you in.

===

“Father!” You wrap your arms around him, who’s standing by the main entrance to your estate, waiting anxiously. He does the same, unaffected by the eyes that watch, the staff, and a mere acquaintance, Lord Kenobi.

Now Obi Wan knows who you got your bravery from.

He stands quietly, hands folded in front of him, not sure what to do but damn sure not to leave. He had plenty of time to think about his madness on the road, and decided it was not anything pathological- it was pure love and desperation for you. Isn’t that the nature of most of your meet-ups? Consoling each other in the positively dreadful situations, and utilizing everything to spend a second more together?

He hears you reassuring him of your well-being, and summarize the thing in pretty understated phrases. Even that makes him stutter over his words in a fit of rage. Obi Wan agrees. You distract him by speaking of the help you’ve gotten from a valiant friend, and that’s how he enters the conversation.

“Good morning, Sir.”

How he keeps it all cool, sharing and shaping his anger, silencing any doubt that may arise in him is a surprise, though he’s called a great negotiator for a reason, right? His work in various cases in court has earned him the title. He’s not overtly a fan of flaunting it. Though, it helps him a great deal in this instance.

At least, enough to have a pleasant exchange in these unpleasant circumstances, and secure permission to talk to you again.

Alone.

It is weird enough as it is already, you and him spending the night at some inn, him casually chatting with your father like his clothes haven’t benefitted from the merits of ironing, not to mention his hair being on the wild side after a slight treatment of rain, and now he is requesting your attention? Not only yours, but your father’s too in extent?

His plans have never been so crystal clear.

“No.” You declare your objection so clearly, in one word as the door closes behind him, giving you the privacy of the room. “No, no, no, no.”

“I haven’t even opened my mouth!” He objects, though it is more of a principal thing, than an actual defense. He knows you’ve worked it all out already. God, could he expect anything less from you? Your watery eyes and trembling hands break his heart into a million pieces, reactions so strong even before he has a chance to utter their cause. He caresses his beard, reevaluating if he should continue-

He can’t live with the consequences if he dares not. He can’t live with what-ifs, or not knowing the reason why you are so repulsed by the idea or would you still feel the same, if he told you about his love for you. Of course, that would require some magic, considering the magnitude and intricacy of it. How is he supposed to put the purest feelings he’s ever had to mere words, the origin of the butterflies caged up in his chest, the wires of his brain getting tangled up whenever you’re not around, and the constant intoxication from the strongest liquor he’s ever consumed? He’d rather die than sober up, and a part of him already recognizes that it’s not a possibility. It is his poison and antidote. There’s not a moment that passes without either of them.

And surely, he has no complaints about it. Never will. It is a brave choice, but what’s braver is this moment.

“No.” You repeat, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Your voice is low albeit steady, as much as it can be.

Because you do not lift your eyes to meet him. “You can’t propose to me, because I can’t refuse it. But I will. Then the whole country will wonder what is so wrong with you, and me, and they will talk about it all the time, for years to come. The whispers will be the first thing that you hear in every room you enter, and you’ll see the mischievous glint in the eyes of every person you meet, them scrutinizing whether those rumors are true. Our reputations will be tarnished forever, and we will hate each other for it.” And you can’t stand that.

You don’t sound like this is the first time you’re putting these words together. In all your distressed state, you sound awfully logical in your own way, so focused on one improbable, insane possibility (damn those reputations, he can never hate you), but devising every little detail.

“Why?” He basically hollers, running a hand through his hair. Why does that potential is the one you envision? “Why can’t you marry me?”

One can only dream that someone outside isn’t listening.

“Because- I don’t know!” You take a desperate step closer, showing him your honesty. You truly can’t quite name your aversions, and isn’t that already enough of a reason to stay away, spare the person you’re facing? “I don’t know how to be a wife! And I am scared. All my life I alienated myself from the idea of a marriage, I methodically dismissed every chance claiming it wasn’t the time, all the way ‘til I would say it was too late. I was content with that idea. Because I love- loved my life the way it is; I get more than I need from my father, and that is to remain unchanged when my brother takes over, and I am free as a bird, unbound by society’s expectations, traveling wherever, wherever and trying new things. I was, I am so happy about it that anything that may alter it I shun from immediately. And now I find myself in a place I never imagined, and I am scared. I don’t know what happens now. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what that future looks like for us.”

He moves towards you, his head tilted sideways in understanding, arms reaching for yours. Finally, finally hearing your justifications, the basis of your attitude, fills him with pride and compassion, and most importantly, gives him an opportunity to help you solve those problems, together. But, you hush him, squeezing his wrists in gentle guidance, with tears streaking across your cheeks. “I just know that I love you. I love you so much that my heart will always feel like a weight in my chest when I’m not with you, like a ship sinking, but never reaching the bottom. And I will continue to love you even if you stop loving me back, but I would rather lose you on my terms than by the burdens a marriage brings.”

“Why do you so believe that a mere contract would change my feelings? Do you think my affections for you are that fragile?”

You frantically shake your head, causing the drops to fall faster. “No, I’m not saying that-“

“Then what?” He snaps, though not because he’s angry. He wants to learn every single reason that’s keeping you away.

“You don’t know what that will do to us.”

“No, I don’t! And I don’t care! It will never change my feelings.” This, he can shout freely. This is the simplest truth for all his remaining days on this earth.

You don’t know that, you want to object. “Obi Wan…” Is the response that comes out of your mouth. “I am not a good bride.”

“No.”There’s acceptance in his tone, a punch to your guts. “You’re the love of life, my companion, my everything.” When he pulls you even closer, and cups your cheeks, you let him. “Haven’t we been through all the struggles a couple could share already? Haven’t I seen all of you, and let you see all of me? Haven’t you claimed my entire soul, and occupied my every single thought? You made me break my rules, and painted a picture I never thought was suited for me- and I came to like that picture very much. In fact, it’s all I ever want my future to look like, with you in it. You, exactly in the way you already are, with all your unsusceptibility to the norms and striking habits. I know that can be scary. I am afraid too. But, anything worth doing starts like this, I know it. And we’ll be the biggest idiots in the world if we let our fear rule us.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, the joyful sound making his breath hitch. It is reflected on his face too, and it is something you’ll hold on to, alongside the tears that begin to form on his eyes. Fortunately, they sit there, despite him kneeling in front of you, his fingers never leaving the bend of your arm, only to follow the route they create, and hold onto both of your hands. “Please, marry me.”

You’re convinced, but your tongue is still tied, so you nod. Your entire upper body shakes with the gesture in seconds, making you look like an overexcited child, on the verge of losing their balance with the restlessness of their legs. You barely feel him kissing your knuckles before he stands up and embraces you, stabilizing both of you in both physical and emotional terms. Let’s be real, if he kissed you instead as he desperately wished to, you’d fall on the floor (and continue there- ‘til somebody discovered the two of you in very indecent terms). His chuckles quickly become your favorite song, you feel blessed as they delight your ears, and make your chest vibrate like his. He revels in the newfound proximity, despite the fact that you’ve been much, much closer in the past. This is new. This is raw love, uncombined with other emotions, strengthened by the absolute truth that you two are meant for each other, and with the promise of you’ll do something about it. He holds you ‘til your sense of balance is restored, for he now has urgent matters he has to attend to. He’ll get to hold you forever soon, and that revelation doesn’t change the herculean feat of letting you go now. He can’t help but wipe the streaks of wetness on your face, though it forms again. He solely doesn’t repeat himself because of the widest grin on your lips. You press yourself to his palm, eyelids closing for a moment, then place a small peck on it.

“I- I’m now gonna go and talk to your father, get the papers right- and find a-” oh, that’s not “a”, he is going to require many others even if he keeps everything minimal, “I’ll be back in three, fuck, four hours, okay?”

“What? No!” You exclaim, almost giving him a heart attack.

“What’s wrong?” His fingers tighten, a slight tremble taking over them. You have to smile to get him to relax once again, and raise your eyebrows wittily, as if he is a fool for not imagining it already, reminding him of your nature.

“I’m only doing this once. I want everything to be right.”

He squints his eyes, grasping your chin. There’s a few seconds of silence, the time it takes for his nerves to settle. When it does, you’re struck by the intensity of his blue irises, the condensed calm before the storm. “So you want to stay as my fiance ‘til the next season starts, in eight months, succumbing to waiting as we get no freedom to ourselves, always in the center stage, enjoying the last of our bachelor states, the lonely nights and beds bigger than you can ever occupy.”

His other hand, wandering across your waist tells you exactly what he implies. While you actually weren’t planning on such a thing, it causes a surge of rush to overtake you, burning you from the inside. Pursing your lips as you free your face from his grip, with a contradicting shaky breath, you say. “I was always fond of winter weddings…”

To this, he laughs, echoing in the room, and you join him.

One can only hope whoever outside listens to this too, this moment of pure joy preserved in one more mind.

===

“I couldn’t be happier to be married to you.” Obi Wan whispers, but the sentence is loud and clear to you, etched into where he takes nest in the crook of your neck, hot breaths burning your skin.

“We’re still not- ngh“ Yes, this is supposed to be the rehearsal, the night before the main event. You two should be at the reception downstairs, among your many relatives and friends and other members of the society, all gathered for tomorrow morning, when these words of yours will be invalid.

Of course, you are further making a hypocrite of yourself by the way you hold onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms locked around his shoulders as he burrows his cock into you. It was impossible to wait any further, as you were separated by the whole ordeal of preparations and the watchful eyes. The moment you found a clearing, you two slipped away, cue to now, where your back on the wall as he supports you against it. You didn’t even get one meter away from the door, you could basically reach the knob with a simple extension of your elbow, but in the end, who cares? Who cares when he fills you so deliciously, scratching the itch that has been building for some time, peppering you with all the love in his heart?

Still, your sentence is cut abruptly as he drives his hips faster, rougher- very much an act of pedantry, advising not to get lost in the details. It works, the correction dies on your tongue, though a quite loud moan takes its place. His hand flies to cover your mouth, and your eyes pop open, meeting his. The pressure of his palm against your face almost forces another sound out of you. Fuck, you adore those blue storms, even when they are focused elsewhere, turned to the door as if it can see past behind it, scanning for intruders. You do actually whimper when the danger dissolves, the vibrations running among his bones, and he keeps up his pace, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

However, it is getting harder in terms of balance as he now has one hand to stabilize you, and despite your best efforts, it is quite hard not to slide off of the smooth fabric of his clothes. Remorsefully, you push on his shoulders, and he understands, pulling his cock out of you and burying his mouth on your skin. He stifles a sob in there, the frustration getting the best of him.

“Oh, you definitely had too much wine.” Look at who’s talking, you with those wobbly legs and bitten lips…

“No, I just had too little of you.”

Your heart flaps its wings out of your chest, as it does after his every cheesy compliment. You still cannot figure out how he makes you blush harder with those words, even as he ravages you in the meantime.

You reach for a kiss, it is always a good idea. He hums contently at the touch, grateful at the most basic form of contact. Obi Wan rocks against you unintentionally, and that’s how the unsatiated desire wages war, with desperate groans and roaming hands.

Then, his fingers tighten around your waist, and you find yourself supported against the vanity with your open palms, depositing most of your weight there (thank God, because you couldn’t trust your feet much longer). He pulls your hips back to his. Your back arches in a way that is most complementary to his chest, and fuck, it is a vision.

It literally is.

Fluttering your eyes open for only a second (that was your intention at least), you’re struck down with the image of the two of you in the mirror, faces contorted in the prettiest way that is possible in this dirty position, heavy lids and open mouths, fingertips whitened by the strong grasp you have on each other, the matching colors of your outfits…

Yes, even with that detail, you’re still on his side, agreeing you’d be idiots if you weren’t doing this.

Deciding to take the sight from its direct source, you turn your head to the side a little, looking at the adonis of a man you’ll soon call your husband, with his neatly trimmed beard and prominent cheekbones and long eyelashes you are slightly jealous of and so much more…

He meets your gaze, breathless with similar thoughts, that little tug on the corner of his mouth telling you all you need to know, but then he nudges your face to its previous state by a small clasp of your chin, and you’re watching him through the reflection, leaning forward when he starts to fumble with your skirt once again.

The moan that leaves you is totally incapable of being unobscured as he enters you anew. The change in the angle along with the visual stimulation has you teetering on the edge quite easily, like him, but he denies it, maintaining slow movements and choking out any noise that dares to leave him.

Of course, all is impeded when the door is knocked-

“Occupied!”

Your voices are synchronized, high and tight. The clock stops for a moment for your bodies, as if the stationary status makes it any less scandalous, and both of you fixated on the doorknob.

It never turns. Never.

Still, the dilated pupils remain a little longer, joined over the mirror, with big puffs of breath and shaking hands.

“Do you think they-“ There’s not an exact word that you can find to explain what has just occurred, but the sentiment is clear.

“Probably.” And the answer too is just as clear.

Well, the only thing lost is the trivial achievement of never being discovered before the wedding.

A wedding which is hours away.

So, you push back, wiggling your hips. His unrestricted sound is all you need to regain your spirits back, and you do it once more. Just like that, the wheels are turning.

“You realize there’s a bed behind us, right?” He asks as he slowly thrusts into you.

“Yes, but I like the view better here.”

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

103 notes · View notes

starbylers · 1 year

Text

Honestly and truly, one thing that makes me so confident in Byler is the quality of most anti takes being absolutely horrendous. And I’m not talking about the childish hate, I mean when they actually try and make a critical point about the show.

The other day I saw a Mlvn say that Bylers apparently think Mike is being too ‘normal’ by dating El, and we are wrong because El actually ‘goes against societal norms’…because she grew up being abused in the lab…and because Will grew up ‘normally’ (was not abused in lab) Mike being with Will would actually be the choice that ‘traps him in normalcy’... And then I saw another one say that Mike dating El isn’t conformity because El is considered a ‘threat to society’...because of her powers. Like 😭😭😭

It just made me think…wow. You’re telling me this is the grasp the opposing side have on the themes of the show, how those themes influence the characters, and how that all interacts within the social context of the time period? El is a girl. Will and Mike are both boys. It’s the 80s. Obviously the situation is more complicated and nuanced than just those facts, but it is truly not that hard to understand where conformity might come into play.

Like society is not oppressing Mike because he decided to date a female superhero 💀 meanwhile him growing up in an extremely homophobic place and time period maybe possibly definitely could lead to suppression of his sexuality and dating someone of the opposite sex rather than his 1000x more compatible same-sex friend because society would deem that immoral and wrong. Also yes, El does deal with mental health difficulties stemming from her childhood and it certainly impacts how she moves through the world, but again…what societal conventions and rules is Mike rejecting/not conforming to by dating a girl who happens to struggle with childhood trauma? No-one who we come across in the series finds anything strange about these two dating, in fact their feelings are suspected/expected by their friends before they even get together.

It’s wild that they think the height of nonconformism in 1980s small town America is having made-up superpowers…when a gay man is literally right there…and them also implying that El being traumatised makes her like, 'not-normal enough’ for her and Mike’s relationship to be considered subversive or something…sure is an opinion! A really awful one!

It’s like they’re conflating conformity with ‘everyday normalness’, and using fantasy elements and dramatic plots within the show to prove how different from regular reality/life the Mlvn pairing is, rather than understanding conformity (the theme spelled out for us in the show) for its actual definition—behaviour in accordance with socially accepted conventions.

Just saying if you ever worry that you think too deeply into Byler evidence…just remember that at least you’re actually thinking. The “worst” Byler take will always be a million times more carefully thought-out than the “best” anti take.

#byler #anti mileven #I hope I worded this correctly #I just had to share because reading these things actually left me speechless like what do you meannnn

192 notes · View notes

lavaflowe · 1 year

Text

JTTW BOOK CLUB

CHPT 7-9

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

Chpt 7

•”All this was probably refined in his stomach by the Samadhi fire to form a single solid mass” I know other deities can use the fire but I’m wracking my brain for when it used before(this point) specifically- My understanding was the furnace refined the immortal elixirs and fruit- I’m going to assume Laozi is just theorizing and doesn’t know what actually happened

•Diamond body….👀

•Erlang gets absolutely DRIPPED out, he earned it FR

•eyes permanently irritated by the smoke churned up the the Xun trigram, someone get this man some eye drops

•he is extra pissed

•HE JUST BODIES LAOZI IM YELLING😂

•”this cosmic being fully fused with nature’s gifts passes with ease through 10,000 toils and tests”

•Big war form out to beat serious ass, he’s not jokin bitch

•” bright and luminous; ….illustrious pearl of mani he is indeed” MMMMM comparing him to a mani- a flaming (wish granting) jewel is hilarious 💀

•Tathagata bringing in the big guns (himself)

•”how tf do you know The Way and not know who I am?? And you’re so….violent” I can sense the side eye

•I wonder if Wukong has previous incarnations?? Buddha says he just reached human form this incarnation but if his rock was there at the beginning of creation, wouldn’t his soul be ‘baking’ (for lack of a better term) the whole time until he hatched?

•” and with a total lack of respect he left a bubbling pool of monkey urine” Iconic moment LMAOOOO

•smart for Wukong to leave a momento- too bad it didn’t matter lol

•ah so he was jumping to visit the pillars again, not run away(supposedly)- he’d rather prove he’s right than escape💀 that checks out

•monkey has been squished, it is now party o’clock

•are you allowed to give the Buddha drugs if it’s an offering? Like wine??🤔 “wtf is this allowed? Wtf”

•”Wukong is wiggling out”

“Dw, take this”

*slaps tag on the mountain like flex tape*

•enough room to breathe and move his hands- I would lose my mind

•Molten copper & iron pellets mimic punishments in hell (just learned this🙏), shedding the Karma like water -I feel like 500 years is pretty good tbh considering everything

Woe molten metal and iron upon ye

Chpt 8 + 9 under cut:

Chpt 8:

•lots of lovely poems in this chapter

•a paragraph recap of the past 7 chapters

•wonder what Feast of the Ullambana Bowl is? (the notes say it’s a mass for the dead and is also know as the Ghost festival, practiced by Taoists and Buddhists)

•”the Chan mind shines bright like a thousand rivers’ moon; true nature’s pure and great as an unclouded sky.”

Lovely poem, and I’m beginning to realize this book is very heavily focused on the Chan school, which I don’t know why I didn’t pick up on sooner? White-Robed Guan Yin is a Chan specific form, usually depicted in their bamboo grove

•Tathagata reveals his 3 baskets of scripture after everyone is done presenting their poems, feels almost like he suggested the celebration to announce these

•Each basket corresponds to scriptures of Heaven, Earth, and the Damned- a total of 15,144 FUCKING SCROLLS

•oooo Guanyin poem!! “ a golden body filled with wisdom, fringes of dangling pearls and jade, …dark hair piled smartly in a coiled-dragon bun. With brows of new moon shape and eyes like two bright stars, her jadelike face beams natural joy. …Her orchid heart delights in green bamboos; her chaste nature loves the wisteria. The living Guanyin from the Cave of Tidal Sound.”

•5 Talismans: Embroidered Cassock that will protect him from falling back into the Wheel of Transmigration, a 9 ring priestly staff that will protect him from poison or harm, 3 tightening fillets- the Golden, the Constructive, and the Prohibitive Spell.

•Guanyin thinks this will take about 2 to 3 years💀 hooooo boy….

•FLOWING SAND RIVER!!! MY 2ND FAV BOY!!!

•Green and Black complexion, Gleaming eyes like the lights beneath a stove, forked mouth with teeth like knives and swords, and disheveled red hair

•like that Wujing is using a priest staff he def took from one of the monks he ate lol

•Wujing fighting Moksa for his life only to drop everything to apologize and talk to Guanyin LMAO

•MOKSA PICKS HIM UP BY THE COLLAR AKFKAKDJDJ

•ah, so Wujing didn’t reincarnate, he was changed, STABBED OVER 100 TIMES EVERY 7 DAYS AND FORCED TO COMMIT CANNABILSM SO HE DOESNT STARVE AS PUNISHMENT- THATS JUST LOVELY😭

•I like the interpretation that he could have been trying to signal a coup by breaking the crystal cup

•Guanyin hearing about Wujing’s string of skulls: it’s a surprise tool that will help us later

•BAJIE TIME

•this idiot bro “HOW DARE YOU TRY TO GET FLOWER PETALS IN MY EYES!!” “IDIOT THAT WAS GUANYIN” “…Guanyin is here??” “LOOK UP”

•Wuneng is reincarnated, he got beat to death in Heaven for hitting on Chang’e LMAOOOOO GET REKT

•ah yes, casually mentions killing his pig family and then his life of eating humans. Lovely.

•AO LIE TIME

•I committed a little accidental arson, please bail me out

•Damn, he got a really short intro

•interesting that Guanyin id’s the Peach Banquet as Wukongs fall from grace. I would def agree with this- eating the peaches like he did was extremely reckless and the beginning of the end imo

•”who tf is talking shit up there”

•No one has ever visited Wukong, I’m guessing the Guards were horrible company

•I like how both Guanyin and Sanzang try to give Wukong a religious name- Guanyin is very happy to hear he has the Wu- prefix as well lol

•arrived in Chang’an, let the hunt begin

Chpt 9:

•Chang’an bb, all blooming flowers surrounded by 8 rivers (DAMN, that’s a lot of water)

•Guangrui got first place in the examination, good for him UwU

•SURPRISE WIFE

•”gave the girl to Guangrui as his bride” UM I THINK SHES THE ONE WHO GRABBED HIM LMAO

•Guangrui has some fated beef with these two random boatmen, Liu Hong and Li Biao- states that he was destined in a previous incarnation to be enemies with them, is this a result of bad karma?

•NOOOOOO MY GUY GUANGRUI

•Liu Hong reminds me of Liu’er Mi-*gunshot*

•since they’re at the bottom of the Hong river, which Dragon King is this?

•Golden Carp coming in clutch, nice

•LADY YIN IS SO METAL LETS GO “she hated the bandit so bitterly that she wished she could devour his flesh and sleep on his skin” DO IT GURL, KILL HIM

•damn, too bad she’s pregnant with Sanzang….dw Girl I know you would kick his ass otherwise…

•there goes his toe…

•get named River Float idiot

•damn bro chill, that wasn’t very monk-like of you

•homie got called an orphan and cried JAKDJSJFJ I FEEL BAD

•she didn’t even check the toe I THOUGHT SHE DID- WHAT WAS THE POINT LMAO

•nvmnd

•I guess licking the eyes is better than spitting on them…sigh…

•GODDAMN THEY RIPPED LIU HONG AND LI BAIO APART….good for them, deserved in fact

•Lady Yin committing suicide even after she was reunited with her husband makes sense, as there was a trend where wives whose husbands died or they were assaulted, killed themselves. This was show loyalty to their husbands and add weight to their claim of SA- Lady Yin’s husband coming back does not change the fact that everyone knows she was forcefully married :((

(I use the term ‘trend’ only as a way to describe the rise and fall in wife suicides tied to either a husbands death or as a response to SA)

#FINALLY CAUGHT UP YIPPEE #I CAN… I CAN DRAW MKRE FOR THESE #<- I say this but I intentionally didn’t post last Sunday so I could make that animation for chapter 7 LMAO #…I have my priorities straight #tho the animation prevented me from doing anything for Sanzang’s chapter RIP #I would have done Lady Yin Justice I swear- she deserves soemthing nice #jttw #jttw book club #<- still not sure about that tag LMAO #Journey to the west #I’ll probably slap all my doodles in one post at some point…#Sun Wukong #tang sanzang #my art #jttw meme #tw: sui mention

138 notes · View notes

missblissy · 10 months

Text

The Painter - Astarion X Reader

Summary: While out shopping in the city you come across a strange book. You decide to give it a read and get a few ideas… Maybe this was something you should share with Astarion?

Warnings: 🤷🤷 There isn’t really anything to be worried about, maybe suggestive themes but?? It’s mostly pinning, angst, kind of intimacy 👀 GN! Tav as always tho UwU)/✨

A/N: 🔫💀 I am here to bring more non-sexual intimacy with Astarion because I love healing a traumatized man. The poem used later in the story must get its credit where it’s due, and is Acquainted with the Night by Robert Frost. As always, enjoy!

There are many things such a skill can be useful for. In time one can grow more fond of this technique with time and practice. A brush stroke can be equal of that to the hand caress along the inner thigh and bringing pleasure beyon-

“Hmm? Reading something new, I see?”

The binds of your book screamed out as the pages slapped such, cover to cover, while your skin nearly jumped off your own bones, “Astarion! H-hey!”

Peering over your shoulder from the back of the couch was the keeper of your heart and destroyer of any sense of sanity you had left. Astarion raised a cursed brow at you and leaned a little closer. The night was young and the floors below the Elf Song rang with customers coming and going as they pleased. Thankful the top floor was all to yourself but still, the liveliness below could still be heard.

“Why aren’t you down stairs with everyone else?” You asked as you set the book down beside you, even managing to slip it between the pillows and cushions.

Most of the others had joined the music and drinking below, Astarion was down there the last you checked, getting into some kind of heated debate with Wyll and Gale about who could flip a coin better. Sometimes those three could be so…

You shook the thought away as Astarion crawled over the back of the couch and smoothly sat down beside you, “Well I came looking for you of course,” He gave a wave of his hand then a side look, “You don’t normally hide away reading,”

There was a soft laugh from you and a half shrug, “We’ve been here for weeks now. There is only so much fun a drunken tavern can provide, and spending every night down there isn’t my cup of tea,”

“Hm, you’re no fun. What’s another night of drunken debauchery?” Astarion teased with a nudge of his shoulder into yours, but you gave a little shake of your head and he got his answer, “Fine, fine~” He sang out then threw his arms behind his head as he stretched, “One boring night, coming right up,”

You knew he was only teasing and meant nothing by it. Seeing as the flicker of amusement in the corner of his eye told you he would rather be up here with you anyways.

Without a second thought or a slight of hesitation, Astarion made himself comfortable. He laid down with his head in your lap, you letting out a little giggle as he shoved your hands out of the way to make room for himself. His feet dangled off the arm of the couch and he shuffled a bit as he kicked off his boots.

“So, tell me about this book you're reading, my love. I’ve seen your nose in it since we left that book shop,” Almost as if by instinct, your fingers started combing through his white curls, “It must be a terribly lascivious fantasy, no?”

You could hear the little giggle bubbling behind his words as he spoke as well. How many times has he mentioned the book now and you’ve just ignored him? “It’s not that kind of book,” You didn’t stop playing with his hair, but you did look away with a faint blush. If he was going to be persistent about it then you had little choice to put up a fight.

He started to reach over toward the book tucked beside you but you slapped his hand repeatedly, “It’s not that kind of book,” You huffed then grabbed it for yourself. Just to prove your point you leafed through the pages then stopped on a specific one.

To say it wasn’t just any kind of book would be an understatement. You held the book open and showed Astarion. On the page was a simple diagram. Well… perhaps not simple.

The vampire spawn tilted his head a little, not exactly sure what he was looking at. Slowly he lifted his hands up and held the book open himself, “That pain priest really did a number on you back then, huh?”

“In a way, yes. But… Not exactly,” You said, while gazing at the page as well. It was hand drawn by someone tied up, very tied up, and very restrained, hanging from bounds of ropes off a ceiling. You flipped to an earlier page, one that shows exactly what knots where needed to achieve such a complex picture.

You then flipped a few pages back, “You did too,” You were hesitant to say those words, but there was no reason to lie. Nothing good came from it so why hide. You stopped on a different picture with a person fully in the nude but covered head to toe in painted on words. Then to another page that required both you an Astarion to nearly tilt your heads in a 90 degree angle to get a better look at whatever it was you were seeing.

A moment of silence passed and Astarion narrowed his gaze softly with a raised brow and looked up at you, “What is this book?” He closed it and looked at the cover, no title, then the spine, nothing. He went to the first page and only found a table of contents.

You gentle took it from his grasp and started fingering through it, to somewhere in the middle where the title was hidden, “Peculiar Pleasures,”

Astarion sat up fully, his head no longer in your lap as he straightened out beside you, “What did you mean, when you said you did too?” There was a slow growth of worry on his face, like he was about to be in trouble.

But you have a quick wave of your hand to dispel such worries, “Nothing bad,” You softly smiled and placed a gentle hand on his, he quickly took it but still had a silent question in his face waiting for you to explain, “I…” You started, not exactly sure where to start, “… I Was looking through the books at the shop, just wandering about. I saw this book, and it reminded me of you. And what you said about this kind of stuff feeling… Tainted?”

He didn’t say much but he did raise a brow and held an open hand out with a curl of his fingers. You passed the book to him and watched as those same fingers flipped pages with care and curiosity.

Still a little frazzled, you felt your shoulders tense up and rise to your neck while letting out a nervous laugh, “I just thought it was interesting…” You started to ring your fingers together with that same empty laugh, “And maybe this book could, I don’t know… It’s sex without sex!” You blurted out louder and than you expected then got yourself all sorts of frazzled, “Like… ya know… that kind of stuff. I just thought-”

“You thought it could help,” His voice was cool like ice and just as slick, “That’s very sweet of you,” You finally looked at him to see a smile in the corner of his lips. He leaned into the distance between you two and placed a kiss on your cheek, “I’d like to keep this for awhile, if you don’t mind,”

“You actually want to read it?” The surprise in your voice was hard to hide, why wouldn’t you be? You gave him an odd look full of questions regardless.

He gave you another side look, one more playful as he turned to full face you with a tip of his head slightly to the side. Your noses barely touched as he smirked, “I’m just reading it, love, we aren’t doing anything,” It was cruel of him to flirt like this, and to give such a teasing tone.

It made the tips of your ears burn and your cheeks match, “I know!” You huffed and turned away sharply, “I mean- well. Good.” You smoothed out your shirt as some form of distraction or action to seem casual, “I’m glad you like it then,”

A soft laugh escaped his lips and you felt a smile tug at your lips. Soon the giggles came from you both. Astarion raised an arm, inviting you in by his side and you quickly took the offer, snuggling up and resting against his chest, “How far have you gotten? I shouldn’t have that much to catch up on,” With how fast he reads? It’d only take him a few hours you guessed.

Astarion opened the book again once you had both gotten comfortable on the couch. With a shrug you told him, “I’m not that far, maybe a few chapters?”

“Wonderful,” His grin was cheeky, “Means you don’t have much rereading to do,”

A curious brow was raised on your face, “Oh?”

He snuggled himself closer and began flipping to the first few pages, “Of course, everything I could want is right here,” His voice was laced like honey, sickeningly sweet, “Why would I bother leaving?” He teased, “A beautiful paramour by my side, a saucy book for the ages, and the rest of the night to ourselves,” A stray hand of his began combing through your hair, all the while he focused on skimming pages with ease. It was rather perfect.

You let out a little hum, “You have a point,” The curl of his fingers through your hair was enlightening yet calming. It was like a call of tranquility. Another hum as your eyes fluttered shut, “Wake me when you get to chapter 4? Around page… I don’t know, half way through,” To hells with him if he thought you’d reread the damn chapters a second time.

“Mhm,” Was his simply and soft reply, then followed but the subtle turn of a page. He never stopped twirling curls of your hair between his fingers, something of a rhythmic pattern that was predictable and pleasant.

Sometimes you’d get pulled from the lull when he’d pause, his hand stopped and a strange chuckle could be heard escaping his chest. Even peaking an eye open you could already tell what he was reading. You saw a silly but errotic picture from before, someone clad with no clothes being tickled by countless feathers and… other peculiar things. You laughed at that one too.

Or a few pages later there would be an image of someone experimenting with entire blocks of ice and nothing else, or toying with magic in stranger ways than normal. Even a few pages were dedicated to the art of chanting and just calling out sounds and how to seek orgasmic pleasure from just screaming. Though you couldn’t deny, some things in the pages seemed entirely thrilling. It was indeed a book of peculiar pleasures.

So the half chuckles and chortles from Astarion every so often put a smile on your face. Though you still drifted in and out of a half sleep, despite the ruckus downstairs still raging on. After some time with a vampire you grew to love the coolness that always radiated from Astarion, like a freezer, he was naturally chilled and cool to the touch.

After a while however you felt a little jostle on your shoulder. Then more of a shake. Your eyes shot open and for a split second you were expecting a surprise attack. It was just your beloved vampire, though, seeing as you nearly forgot with your little power nap, “Star-bite..?” You yawned the nickname and rubbed some sleep out of your eyes.

You eyes flickered to the book beside you, still in his hands, you noticed he was nearly to where you left off, he only had a couple pages left to catch up though.

“This one,” Astarion’s voice surprised you, causing you to snap your head towards him. You caught a look of what could only be described as determination. He fully turned the book to you and pointed his finger to the page with an image you had already seen.

There was a drawing of a woman painting on herself. She was, keep in mind, nude, but her body was covered in runes and words alone. They covered her from head to toe. Your eyes traveled to the paragraph below, you still remember what it said.

Pleasure can come in many forms, this one being the pleasure of touch and grace while healing, and exploring the mind and body so intimately that nothing but a brush stroke is needed. This practice is known as The Painter. Its purpose is to form bonds either with yourself or with that who holds the brush. There are many things such a skill can be useful for. In time one can grow more fond of this technique and with practice. A brush stroke can be equal to that of a hand caressing along the inner thigh and bring pleasure beyond what a touch could ever do. Paint into you what you’ve always wanted to hear, or secrets you can’t keep any longer. You could even scribe poems, or runes, whatever means most to you.

“I want to try this one,” Astarion’s voice caused your mind and eyes to drag up to him.

You felt a rush of blood run to your cheeks as you forced an awkward laugh, “R-right now?” He couldn’t be serious. Your eyes flickered around the room, wondering if anyone had come up from the tavern yet.

Astarion only answered you with a quick and sharp nod of his head. Well then…

You blinked a few times, still somewhat surprised by his forwardness, “O-okay,” Then you said it again with more confidence, “Okay!” You shot up from the couch and looked around then made your way to the door, Astarion was close to follow behind you. He did manage to grab an ink well and a brush, however, as you managed to slip away to the solo suite down the hall. He had not forgotten the book either.

“So, what do you want painted on you?” You closed the door as he followed in, then turned and watched as he kept his nose in the book and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Without lifting his head, he raised only his ruby eyes and gave you a staunt look, “I was thinking a poem,” That was rather interesting, or so you thought. A little fitting even.

But you still had to ask, “Are you sure? I mean,” You made your way over to him, sitting side by side while taking the ink well and brush that we’re still tucked under his arm, “I only ask because it wasn’t that long ago we thought it was just a poem on your back,”

“I’m sure,” He closed the book with a swift snap as the pages shut together, “Besides,” He leaned a little closer to you with a smirk, “I get to choose what it says this time,”

A soft single giggle of a laugh escaped you. You then clicked your tongue with a little shake of your head, “Alright, where do you want to start?”

You watched as he proceeded to think, mule over what he wanted and what he didn’t want. Which was still a foreign concept to him that he hadn’t quite yet settled into. Eventually and with caution he said, “Let’s just start with my arm. I don’t think I’ve got enough words to cover me… Nor do I think I want to,” He gave a small and nervous, boyish chuckle at the end.

“Okay,” You nodded with a smile and waited as Astarion shed a few layers, then undone his shirt and exposed only his torso. You had nearly forgotten how beautiful he was, but only soaked in the view for a moment before giggling giddy with bubbles, “You talk, I write,” You hummed and dipped the tip of the brush into the ink, tapped away the loose drops, then hovered it over his one of his shoulders, waiting with anticipation.

His breathing slowed, and Astarion thought. He even closed his eyes trying to envision the words appearing on his own skin. Soft, but not a whisper, his voice traveled deep from his lungs. A strange sounding roughness filled his words.

“I have been one acquainted with the night.”

Slowly with each word, you carefully wrote every letter with deliberate delicacy, as if you were painting on the world’s thinnest canvas, ready to break under the smallest weight.

“I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane.”

His voice carried a world hidden within it, one that you could only ever catch a glimpse of in moments like these. Each faint brush stroke along his skin sent small and welcomed shivers from each place the hairs prickled his skin. Astarion even had to take long moments between each entry, to give you time to scrawl down his tainted words.

It was incredibly intimate, much to his surprise. Especially when he’d turn his head just enough to see you, and see your hard stare more focused on the brush strokes of each word than staring back at him. He couldn’t explain it, but having your attention still be on him, but not actually looking at him…. His chest felt light and his blood began to pick up speed. Your focus filled eyes would only glance back up at him when you were ready for the next verse. It was enough to make his breath hitch, for the candle light to reflect stars in his eyes and turn his head away once again.

“I have passed by the watchman on his beat, and dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped to the sound of feet… When far away an interrupted cry came over houses from another street,”

You carefully worked down his arm, making your way to his wrist, to gently clasp it with your free hand and turn his arm over, palm facing up. There wasn’t a moment of lapse or pause as you continued on working your way up the other side of his unpainted arm. For you this was just as intimate. You could see the shift in his chest, the way his breathing would quicken and slow again depending on where the brush stoked along his skin. In all fairness, it was a learning experience, but still one that made your cheeks burn. Especially when you could feel him staring.

You were keen not to look back at him, or away from writing down his words. As much as you wanted to steal a glimpse, to see the half lidded look on his face, the glaze over of his eyes and the way his lips parted with each intentional word when he was speaking… As for now, all the two of you could hear was each other's shallow breathing, then of course Asterion's little quick in tack of air as you finished the verse and looked up at him waiting patiently.

“But not to call me back… or say good-bye… And further still at an unearthly height, one luminary clock against the sky proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right….” He paused, and waited, and even more still once you caught up. He said nothing for a moment, nothing at all. But soon he sighed out his next and final words as if they were more personal to him, as they were becoming words of affirmation rather than confirmation, “I have been one acquainted with the night,”

He didn’t move, and neither did you. You couldn’t place your finger on it, but you watched him slowly flutter his eyes close and take in a few low breaths. The ink on his skin had started to dry and you carefully traced your fingers over the black words once more. There wasn’t any tension between you two, rather, a longing.

You’re voice came as a subtle surprise to him, just to hear it that is, “I have become one acquainted with the night,” You echoed, still tracing the words along his arm, “It’s a beautiful poem,” You leaned closer and place a light and loving kiss on his shoulder, “And a little sad,”

Hearing so made a bittersweet smile curl onto Astarion lips and he breathed out a soft and low hum of a laugh, the kind that came from his nose as he sighed along with it. He tipped his head towards yours, a loving nudge as he nuzzled his cheek against the top of your head, “It is sad, but true,”

“Hmm,” You smiled a little more as he placed a kiss on your forehead. You fell into each other, into a loose embrace by simply enjoying the closeness. You still traced your fingers lightly along his painted arm, then softly gave a loose chuckle, “You know this doesn’t look to bad,” You gentle lifted his arm, in the process you hooked your arm around his and locked yourself at the elbow while slipping your hand into his, “I bet you’d be able to pull of tattoos if you wanted,” A banter was in your voice, light and airy.

A quick laugh came from him, and he raised an eyebrow at you, “You think so?” His giggle was laced into his words, he peered down along his arm and took a moment to imagine the words being replaced with more permanent art, “Is that your way of saying you’d like me more with ink?” The tease in his voice was harmless and playful.

With a dramatic, “Noo!” You nudged your shoulder into his, swaying a little together as you each laughed, “Only if you wanted to, of course. I like you just as you are,” Though you wouldn’t mind at all… the back of your mind flashed you images of Astarion honestly covered with tattoos.. hmph.

Astarion placed a little kiss along the side of your temple to ease his teasing and said, “Honestly I’ve never considered them before. The idea of a needle poking me for hours on end sounds like torture… Though…” He looked back down at his arm, gave it a little twist and a full view as he admired the words, “You are right, I do look pretty good,” He smirked with sharp teeth.

You burst into a fit of giggles and nodded your head along with him, “You really do,” You gestured back to the brush and ink well beside you, “I can do more if you like?”

His eyes flickered to follow your hand then he gave a little shake of his head, “This is a good start, for now,” He reached over and took your hand in his, bringing the back of it to his lips and placing a tender kiss against your skin, “Thank you. For doing this, I mean,” Then he gave a cheeky little shrug and a slight harmless roll of his eyes, “And maybe for getting the book too… I… I think I needed this,”

“Of course,” Your brows knitted together but with a sweetness as you place a hand on his cheek, “Of course!” You repeated with emphasis, placing a kiss on his forehead and pressing yours to his, noses just brushes against each other while you humed, “Anything for you, my sweet Star-bite,”

#x reader #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #reader instert #astarion x tav #Astarion x you #blissy writes #bg3 tav #gn reader #gn tav

124 notes · View notes

dalilacherie · 1 month

Note

hiiiiii idk if ur still taking requests but if u are could u pls write a dally x male reader where the readers a curtis and dally and reader have been together for like a while but then somehow darry catches them together and so now they are dealing with the fallout of all that (i am so so sorry if that made no sense 😭)

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭

[𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: So uh... I'm alive!! 🥳 I have nothing to say for myself except that I'm lazy💀 anyways enjoy this story.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: idk- more than 1,000

I’m sittin’ on the old couch in the Curtis livin’ room, feet up on the coffee table, cigarette danglin’ between my lips. It’s quiet. The kind of quiet you don’t get too often around here. The boys are all out. Two-Bit, Johnny, and Pony are at the movies, and Darry, Steve, and Soda are at work. That just leaves me and Y/N.

"Don’t ya get bored when it’s this quiet?" Y/N asked, lookin' at me with those eyes of his that I never could resist. He always had a way of seein' right through me, even when I was tryin' to act tough.

I shrugged. "Nah, quiet’s good sometimes. Can think better without all that noise. Don’t you like it?"

He smiled, that small, easy smile he had that could make me feel like maybe not everything in this world was as screwed up as it seemed. "Yeah, I like it. It’s nice just bein' with you."

I didn’t say nothin' to that. I wasn’t good at the mushy stuff, never was. I’d rather just show him what I felt, not say it. So I reached over and ruffled his hair, messin' it up like I knew he hated, just to see him annoyed. He swatted my hand away, but he was grinnin'.

"Quit it, Dal. I just fixed it."

"Too bad," I said, leanin' back into the couch, stretchin' my legs out. "You look better with it all messed up, anyway.”

I glance over at him, sittin’ close by, almost leanin’ into me. He’s been my guy for a while now, not that we make a big show of it or nothin’. He’s just always been there, and I guess I’ve always been here too, though I ain’t one to stick around for much.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout?” I ask, flickin’ some ash into the ashtray. It’s one of those moments where I ain’t thinkin’ too much about what’s out there—what kinda trouble I could be gettin’ into. ‘Cause right now, I got what I need right here.

He shrugs a bit, like he does when he ain’t sure what to say. “Nothin’ much. Just… you.”

I smirk at that, pullin’ the cigarette from my mouth and blowin’ the smoke up toward the ceilin’. “Yeah? What ‘bout me?”

He turns his head, lookin’ me dead in the eyes. He’s always had this way of lookin’ at me, like he’s seein’ somethin’ more than just a no-good hood. Maybe he is, I dunno.

“I dunno,” he says, leanin’ back a little. “Just… how you’re always here, even when you say you’re not gonna be.”

“Guess I ain’t as bad as I like to think I am,” I mutter, leanin’ back against the cushions. I’m still gettin’ used to this whole thing, bein’ with someone who actually gives a damn. Most folks don’t. And hell, I’m used to it. Grew up that way, always lookin’ out for myself, ‘cause who else was gonna do it? But Y/N, he’s different. He makes me feel like maybe there’s somethin’ more out there than just fights and booze and dodgin’ the fuzz.

He shifts a bit closer, till his shoulder’s brushin’ against mine. He’s warm, real warm, and it’s kinda nice just sittin’ here with him, not havin’ to say nothin’ or do nothin’ to prove myself.

“Ya know,” I say, my voice a little quieter, “I ain’t used to this. Just sittin’ around, not doin’ nothin’. It’s kinda nice, though.”

He smiles, that soft, easy smile he’s always got, and it makes me feel somethin’ weird, like maybe I’m worth somethin’ more than just a cheap thrill or a quick fight. “Yeah, it is,” he agrees, settlin’ in closer, his head restin’ on my shoulder. “We don’t get much time like this.”

“Nah, we don’t,” I say, takin’ another drag off my cigarette before snuffin’ it out in the ashtray. I’m quiet for a minute, just listenin’ to him breathin’, the way his chest rises and falls against mine.

“I like bein’ with you, Y/N,” I say, the words comin’ out rougher than I meant ‘em to. I ain’t good at sayin’ stuff like this, but he deserves to hear it.

He looks up at me, those eyes of his all soft and understandin’. “I like bein’ with you too, Dal,” he says, reachin’ up to brush a hand through my hair, somethin’ he does when he thinks I’m not payin’ attention. But I always notice, even if I don’t say nothin’. “Payback” as he calls it.

“Yeah?” I say, leanin’ into his touch, feelin’ more relaxed than I have in a long time. “Glad to hear it, ‘cause I don’t plan on goin’ nowhere.”

He chuckles a bit, the sound low and warm, and it makes me feel somethin’ in my chest, somethin’ I don’t feel too often. “I didn’t think you would,” he says, settlin’ against me.

We sit there like that for a while, just enjoyin’ the quiet, enjoyin’ each other. And for once, I ain’t thinkin’ about what’s comin’ next, or what kinda trouble’s waitin’ for me out there. All I care about is right here, right now, with Y/N.

After a while, I reach over and grab the remote, flickin’ on the TV. There ain’t nothin’ good on, but I don’t care. It’s just background noise, somethin’ to fill the space while we sit here together. He shifts a bit, gettin’ more comfortable, and I pull him in closer, holdin’ him tight against me.

“Dal?” he mumbles after a while, his voice real soft, almost like he’s afraid to say what’s on his mind.

“Hm?” I reply, lookin’ down at him.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, his eyes meetin’ mine. “I know you got other places you could be, but… I’m glad you’re here with me.”

"You think they’ll be back soon?" Y/N asked.

I shrugged again, not really carin'. "Probably not for a while. They’re prob'ly goofin' off somewhere."

He nodded, lookin' thoughtful. Then he looked to me, somethin' serious in his eyes. "You know, Dal, you don’t always have to act so tough."

I stiffened. "What’re you talkin' about? I ain’t actin'. I am tough."

He gave me that look again, the one that said he wasn’t buyin' my bull. "I know you are. But you don’t have to be all the time, not with me."

I didn’t know what to say to that. He was right, and I hated that he was right, but I didn’t know how to be any other way. The streets didn’t teach you how to be soft, didn’t teach you how to let your guard down. But here I was, doin' just that with him, and it might've scared me more than any fight ever did.

Instead of sayin' anything, I just pulled him closer, wrappin' my arm around his shoulders. He rested his head on my chest, and I could feel his breath against my neck. It was real nice, feelin' like we didn’t have to say nothin' to understand each other. We just fit, like two pieces of a puzzle that made sense when they were together.

"Dally?" he murmured after a while.

"Yeah?" I asked, my voice a little rougher than I meant it to be.

"You ever think about what it’d be like if we didn’t have to hide this? If everyone knew and didn’t care?"

I tensed up at that, the thought of it makin' me uneasy. "Don’t see much point in thinkin' 'bout it. Ain’t never gonna happen, Y/N. People don’t get us, don’t get me. They wouldn’t understand."

He was quiet for a bit, then he sighed. "I know. I just wish…"

I tightened my grip on him, hating how small his voice sounded. "Don’t worry 'bout it, alright? We’re good, just like this. Don’t need anyone else to get it long as we do."

He nodded against my chest, and I could feel him relaxin' again. We stayed like that for a long time, neither of us sayin' much, just enjoyin' bein' together without havin' to worry 'bout what anyone else thought.

I was startin’ to think we might actually get a whole night to ourselves. That was somethin’ that didn’t happen often, so I was gonna soak it up while I could. Y/N was leanin’ against me, his head on my chest, his breathin’ nice and steady. I had my arm wrapped around him, holdin’ him close, and I felt like maybe, just maybe, things were alright.

Then, the door creaked open.

I heard it before I saw him. The heavy footsteps, the way the air seemed to shift when he was around. I didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Darry Curtis.

He walked in like he owned the place, which I guess he did in a way, since it was his house and all. But right now, I wasn’t in the mood for him.

I glanced up, seein’ that look on his face. That one that said he wasn’t too pleased with what he was seein’. His brows were drawn together, his mouth set in a hard line, and his eyes? They were locked right on me.

“What the hell’s goin’ on here?” Darry asked, his voice low and controlled, but I could hear the edge to it. The kind that meant he was tryin’ real hard not to blow up.

“Nothin’,” I said, keepin’ my voice as casual as I could. I wasn’t gonna let him know he was gettin’ to me. “Just hangin’ out.”

“Doesn’t look like nothin’ to me,” he said, his eyes shiftin’ to Y/N, who was still leanin’ against me. I could feel Y/N tense up, probably knowin’ this was about to get ugly.

Darry crossed his arms over his chest, starin’ us down. “Y/N, mind explainin’ why you’re all over him like that?”

Y/N sat up a little, his face goin’ red. “We were just—”

“I know what you were doin’,” Darry cut him off, his voice sharper now. “And I don’t like it.”

I could feel my temper startin’ to rise. I wasn’t about to let Darry talk to him like that, not when he wasn’t doin’ nothin’ wrong. “Back off, Darry,” I said, my voice low. “Ain’t your business.”

Darry’s eyes snapped to mine, and for a second, I thought he might actually take a swing at me. He looked like he wanted to, at least. “It is my business,” he shot back, takin’ a step closer. “Y/N’s my kid brother. I ain’t lettin’ you screw him up like you screw up everything else.”

That stung more than I wanted to admit. I knew what folks thought of me. Hell, I didn’t care most of the time. But hearin’ it from Darry, with Y/N right there? That was a different story.

Y/N jumped to my defense before I could even say anythin’. “Darry, stop! You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“The hell I don’t!” Darry snapped, his eyes still locked on me. “I know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Dallas Winston ain’t no good, Y/N. He’s a player, and he don’t give a damn ‘bout nothin’ but himself.”

“That ain’t true,” Y/N said, his voice firm, standin’ his ground. “Dally cares about me.”

Darry looked at him like he couldn’t believe what he was hearin’. “He might say he does now, but what happens when he gets bored? When he moves on to the next thing that catches his eye? You’re gonna be the one left pickin’ up the pieces.”

That was it. I couldn’t just sit there and let Darry tear me down like that, not in front of Y/N. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” I said, my voice steady, but there was a hard edge to it now. “I’m with him ‘cause I wanna be. Ain’t nobody gonna change that.”

Darry didn’t look convinced. “Yeah? We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Before I could say anythin’ else, Darry walked right over and plopped himself down between us on the couch, forcin’ me to scoot over. I could feel the heat risin’ in my face, my hands clenchin’ into fists. He knew what he was doin’. He was tryin’ to push me out, make it clear that Y/N was off-limits.

Y/N looked like he didn’t know what to do, caught in the middle of all this. He glanced over at me, his eyes filled with worry, but I gave him a small nod, tryin’ to let him know it was alright. But it wasn’t alright. Not by a long shot.

I didn’t like not bein’ able to touch him, not after we’d just been sittin’ so close, all comfortable and quiet. And now Darry was actin’ like he had to play the damn protector, like Y/N was some kid who couldn’t make his own choices.

“So, what’re we watchin’?” Darry asked, like nothin’ had just gone down. He reached for the remote, flickin’ through the channels.

Y/N was quiet, too quiet, and I could see how much this was botherin’ him. But what was I supposed to do? Darry wasn’t gonna listen to me, no matter what I said. And I didn’t wanna make things worse for Y/N, not when he was already caught in the middle of this mess.

But I wasn’t about to back down, either. I wasn’t gonna let Darry think he could just walk all over me, or over what Y/N and I had. So, I leaned back, crossin’ my arms over my chest, and glared at the TV. I wasn’t gonna give Darry the satisfaction of seein’ me lose my cool. But I wasn’t happy, and I knew Y/N could feel it too.

For a while, we just sat there in awkward silence, the TV flashin’ random shows that none of us were really watchin’. Every now and then, Darry would glance over at me, like he was checkin’ to see if I was gonna do somethin’. But I just sat there, my jaw clenched, tryin’ to keep it together.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up, shovin’ my hands in my pockets, and looked down at Darry. “I’m gonna head out,” I said, my voice tight. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

Darry just looked at me, not sayin’ anythin’. But there was a challenge in his eyes, like he was waitin’ to see what I’d do next. But I wasn’t gonna give him the satisfaction of seein’ me snap. I wasn’t gonna let him win.

I glanced over at Y/N, who looked up at me with those eyes that always seemed to know what I was thinkin’. I gave him a small nod, lettin’ him know it was alright, even if it didn’t feel that way.

#the outsiders #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders imagine #dallas winston #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston headcanons #the outsiders dally #the outsiders x reader #dalilacherie

21 notes · View notes