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magnusbae · 9 days

Note

Hi! What about "Can you stay with me?" (and if you'd like it my bonus prompt is "drunk") 💗

The initial draft was written while I was quite literally fainting late at night & the second one fully rewritten while I am dazed and out of it. I would say that I was method writing Obi-Wan who is indeed very much drunk in this one, dearest anon. Thank you for the prompt~ 😊💖

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Obikin || 4,004w || Drunk Obi-Wan is agonized by the prospect of his freshly knighted Padawan leaving him behind— and more. 😌 Some flavors of gentle lime in this drink, very light, very sweet. 🍋💖

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"Can you stay with me?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi sounds properly pathetic and he knows it. Grasping at Anakin’s Tabards as he is, mind swirling in hazy circles around the notion he was doing his very best to avoid thinking about for the past few months. It is not long now that Anakin would look at his Master and see him for what he really was. Perhaps even today. Inebriated as he is, he makes for a good serving of disillusionment. All Anakin needs to do is look, and see, and then…

It seems inevitable—his Padawan will leave.

Former Padawan. Anakin is no longer his Padawan, and that is the heart of it, isn’t it? The severed braid was the firs step. Them having each a battalion of their own, stationed light years away from each other with only the occasional joint mission, a second. The third and final step would be for Anakin to finally open his eyes and look, and see.

It won’t be hard to unveil the carefully crafted Jedi Master facade Obi-Wan had cultivated for the past decade. No, it won’t be hard at all. If Anakin were to stop glorifying him, stop shaping him to be what ever form of idol he had needed for while growing up, if only he were to take an unbiased look at him…

There will no longer be, Kenobi and Skywalker.

For the naked truth was, Anakin had outgrown him, had become more powerful and capable than his Master. There’s little left that Obi-Wan could still offer, still teach. He should be proud. The only one still refusing to see it, is Anakin himself. Once that revelation comes to pass however, it will be complete. A true break, as befitting the Jedi way. Obi-Wan finds no peace in the thought, no completion nor satisfaction in the successful completion of his Padawan’s training—a symbol of his own Mastery.

Not when it means losing him. Not then.

Given his state of drunkenness, words slurred and feet unsteady, he thinks that it’s worth putting to question whatever or not he was a good Jedi at all, least of all a Master. Try as he might, he finds it hard to ponder further. His choice to look inward is as always an avoidance, an escape. An easy detour from looking outward, from looking at Anakin. Anakin who’s eyes he can feel like a physical touch, boring into his very soul.

Obi-Wan’s avoidance is nearly as strong as Anakin’s natural magnetism. One is counseling him to avoid looking, save himself the pain of witnessing the exact moment in which the realization dawns upon the boy. The second, stronger still, demands his undivided attention on him, demands him to look. Demands him.

Obi-Wan looks up, he meets those eyes, his demise.

Anakin’s eyes widen and he blinks, endless blue clearing as if coming out of some sort of shock.

“Can I—” Anakin splutters “—Obi-Wan, even if the council explicitly ordered me to go save the entire karkin universe just now, I wouldn’t be leaving your side— stars you’ve any idea what you look like right now?

Obi-Wan’s tongue is heavy but he parts his lips to answer, something clever to be sure, he always finds something to say.

“No, never mind.” Anakin cuts in before he could speak. There’s such decisiveness in his tone, such confidence. His former Padawan stands tall, his arms are strong and sure as he handles Obi-Wan closer, making him lean more of his weight against his chest. It’s broad and firm. Obi-Wan should not be noticing those things, should not be aware of those things. It is a further evidence that his Padawan is well and truly grown. Further evidence of his own failing as a Jedi, as a Master, as a…man. Obi-Wan should not be inhaling and smelling home. Should not be leaning closer, itching all over for more, more.

“You’re so wasted that I am surprised you’ve even recognized me at all.” Anakin continues talking, as if the universe is not shifting beneath Obi-Wan’s feet as it is him who finally looks with his gaze unbiased. “The drunken messages though, those you will be seeing tomorrow” there’s dark mirth in that dear voice. “I bet you wanted to send them to— someone else.” Anakin glances at him, eyes narrowed.

Obi-Wan’s offenses at Anakin’s assumption he could ever not recognize him dies over under his gaze, dark and rich, his eyes are captivating. Before Anakin, he did not know that a blue can hold such multitudes. Both the clear morning sky, and the moon lit sky. Beautiful. They loosens his tongue as well as any truth serum would. That or the bottle he had finished on his own finally soaked through.

“I will always—” His voice comes out so thick that he coughs, starting Anakin from his dark contemplations, whichever those might be. His eyebrows furrow and he quickly snatches a cup of something clear off of a passing robo-waitress’s tray. Irritated with the distraction, Obi-Wan accepts it and drinks if only to make way for the words to follow. He will not let it go. Not now that he’d started. “I will always recognize you, Padawan Mine, drugged, beaten, or otherwise preoccupied— I will always—” “Drugged?!” Anakin cuts in again, arms tightening around Obi-Wan and strangling the annoyed huff at being cut again “You did not mention anything about being drugged, what the kark’ Obi-Wan?!”

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry, similar to how being drugged would feel. His mind swims and all he sees is Anakin. There’s warmth in his chest, there’s a burn in his gut, there’s a tug in his—

“It’s hard to tell” he says sheepishly, embarrassed, eyes straying away from Anakin’s strong jaw and up, up to the lights on the ceiling. He should not be thinking of how Anakin’s proximity is enough to replicate a strong drug. How out of orbit he feels around him as of late. “They all start the same, so…”

Anakin is hardly listening. Instead he is surveying the club with a look of fury that is bordering on homicidal, freeing one hand to rest it on his lightsaber. There’s the distinct feeling of Anakin stretching his force signature out, covering the room, no doubt attempting to locate anyone within their proximity who might have dared drug his former Master. Oh if only he knew that he was the culprit all along.

Obi-Wan snorts, finding an odd sense of humor in it.

Anakin’s gaze darts back to him, sharp and accusing. He looks so handsome under the colorful, dim lights. He looks so…

“Ah-nakin.” Obi-Wan sighs out and shuts his eyes lest his spinning head forces him to sober up in the most un-jedi manner.

“Stay with me,” the request comes so easy, what was it that he was so afraid of? It’s so easy, too easy. Frighteningly so, to reach and touch Anakin’s forearm. There’s skin beneath his touch, warm and human, tense muscles beneath. “Ah” Obi-Wan sighs out in realization. Anakin had rolled the sleeves, so very unofficial for a Jedi and yet so very Anakin of him.

Master Windu would have hated it. It wouldn’t surprise Obi-Wan if this was exact reason why Anakin did it to begin with, after all, he was most adept to handling heat and was not bothered by it even while all else were. Obi-Wan really should have reprimanded the boy more often, should have stopped Anakin from executing all those harmless little vendettas of his while growing up.

If only he did not find them to be so endearing, so amusing. If only he was a better Master, a proper Master. He would have.

His brain is foggy and he had already forgotten what was it it that he had hoped to achieve by touching Anakin, only that his fingers are circling his wrist and touching the spot at which he can feel his life pulsing. What a terrible habit it is, being intoxicated while negotiating. You should only ever drink enough to appear drunk, never more. How is he to get what he wants, when he has no ideas what it was?

Obi-Wan’s eyelids are heavy when he tries to blink them open and focus on Anakin. There’s the signature frown, so familiar Obi-Wan can’t help but smile. Anakin is chewing his lips, a compulsion he had never managed to rid himself of. He looks torn between the need to locate and deal with the ‘enemy’, and…. Obi-Wan.

The way Anakin looks, that should not be reminiscent of the targets Obi-Wan opts for charm as the main form of negotiation with. Should not stir the excitement of a hunt, of a game to be won. Obi-Wan should not use his looks to achieve his goals, he should not use them to get what he wants, he should be a better man than that.

Obi-wan is not a better man.

Licking his own dry lips, he let’s go off of Anakin’s wrist and reaches for Anakin’s cheeks. There’s a tremble in the touch, his, Anakin’s? He is not certain.

“Dear One, you can chase your enemies tomorrow.” He speaks in a hushed murmur, he hopes he sounds soft and alluring “Tonight, will you guard this drunk Master of yours?” he looks up, through his lashes, breathing shallowly, feeling hot, hot, hot all over.

Anakin let’s go off of the lightsaber. It’s an answer enough to what he had picked. It still is deeply gratifying to feel the boy’s hand cover his own, guide it until he wraps his arm around Anakin’s shoulders. It’s an awkward angle, with Anakin being taller than he— he cares very little for it when Anakin wraps an arm around his waist.

“Let’s go.” He is tight lipped and determined, guiding Obi-Wan out and into a speeder that is parked not far off. If Obi-Wan was even slightly more aware, he’d realize just how much attention the pair of them had draw, how all of the eyes had followed them out. Sometimes he forgets, how famous they had become during this accursed war. Sometimes, he is glad to not remember.

Anakin is terribly efficient at getting them to the Temple. One blink of an eye they’re flying through the busy highways of Coruscant, the next he is tossed unceremoniously onto a bed that feels and smells familiar. His bed.

They’re in his quarters. Their quarters until very recently. He is breathing harder and he does not dare to think of why. If he does not think, it does not exist. He is self aware enough only to feel how disheveled his robes feel on his body, how messy his hair is, how hot his skin feels all over. He is a mess.

“Dear one?” he questions. He refuses to acknowledge how his own tone drops, refuses to admit he is rolling his vowels in a way he knows thickens his accent in the most attractive of ways. He doesn’t know why he is flirting with Anakin Skywalker when the boy is barely out of his knighthood and is Anakin. His Anakin, his Anakin on whom he just looked in a way he really should not be looking at, through his eyelashes, with a heavy, wanting gaze.

The redness of Anakin’s cheeks is evidence enough that he hears and understands the situation well enough. That he is very much aware of what his Master is doing. That he is… perhaps affected.

Obi-Wan swallows, trying to push himself up to his elbows. He needs to sober up, he must tell him that he is merely jesting, that it is all a little tease, a little laugh, nothing more, just….

Anakin cuts him to it. Before he can excuse, or joke, or explain.

“Not while you’re drunk.” Anakin bites, sounding frustrated, lips swollen red from biting. Obi-Wan startles, surprised.

What did Anakin just say? Imply?

Blatantly threw straight into his face, more like.

Yes, but not while he is drunk.

Absurdly, a swell of pride fills his chest to the brim. Anakin’s manners and chivalry surprises him, pleases him. He had raised him well after all, he did not fail him, at least not in this.

His pleasure must bleed into the Force as Anakin regards him with a dark, baffled look. It’s so dark, most would find it intimidating, but for Obi-Wan it’s… dear. He can see the gentleness in that look, the care. There’s warmth in the force when Anakin insist on tucking him in, fingers methodical in the short, careful gestures. Tucking him in as if he was a child. Him, his Master. Former.

Obi-Wan was tucked in only once in his lifetime, at least as far as he can remember. His first night in the Jedi Temple. So tense he was, so out of his depth, that the he was taken pity of, tucked in with a quiet promise of everything making sense soon. It helped.

It had never happen again.

“Ahnakin.” he tries to protest, tries to pull a face of offended indigence. It’s hard to do when he is practically shining within the force. A single look from his apprentice is enough to quiet him down.

“Master.” Anakin replies, and there’s a little eyeroll there. His cheeks are still flushed but he seems as determined as Obi-Wan to not address the Bantha in the room. “You really should be more careful” he lectures him in a way Obi-Wan can distinctly remember doing a few years back, when Anakin had gotten drunk for the first time.

He leaves then, without a word. Obi-Wan’s throat closes and there’s a pang of pain in his heart. No this. He remembers now. Him. Leaving. That was the whole reason, that was why—

“Master?” Anakin sounds concerned, a glass of water and a container of what looks to be painkillers in his hands. “Are you sick?” a few strides and he is by Obi-Wan’s bed again, placing he glass and container at the bedside table. He looks well and truly worried.

Unthinking, Obi-Wan sits up. So sudden that he does feel sick from the motion. He ignores it. He reaches for Anakin’s face with both hands, cupping his cheeks with a grip that is too strong, too desperate. A Jedi should not hold onto things with such fervor.

All it takes for him to lean is to Anakin, is to stop resisting if only for a moment. Anakin’s pull was always there, stronger and stronger until it had become a daily challenge to ignore it, to pretend he does not feel it. All it takes is to stop resisting and his lips find Anakin’s, pressing against that plush softness, inhaling his exhale and finally, finally feeling anchored, inside the orbit he was always meant to circle.

He tilts his chin, leans in, knowing his beard will scratch pleasantly against the smooth jaw, kisses in deeper—

“Mahster—!” Anakin gasps into the kiss, a pang of shock and uncertainty clouding the force around them, sipping through the open nerves of their broken bond. He does not want to take advantage of his Master, does not want him to end up hating him, does not want him to wake up and be disgusted, appalled— but he wants, he wants so badly.

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan breathes out, unsure if it’s endearment of relief that fills him up with warmth, with lightness. One thing he is certain of, no one had ever been, or will be, as sweet, as kind, as dear as Anakin is to him. “I could never hate him.” There’s a drunken lisp to his voice, he needs a moment to correct himself. “You.” He manages, meeting Anakin’s eyes and not blinking, not wanting to miss a single moment. Wanting to see the exact moment in which Anakin realizes he is serious, that he is the most honest he’s been in years.

Anakin seems to be realizing it too, his eyes widening and cheeks coloring a deeper red than before, he bites his lip.

“I might be…” Obi-Wan’s gaze drops to Anakin’s lips and he thinks about… “intoxicated…” he forces himself to look up, away from temptation, away from sin. “Drugged, possibly.” He is still not fully certain if he is, or it truly is just Anakin with a touch of alcohol. “But I am very much aware that…” he smiles before completing the sentence, it widens so much further with the words to come “…my Padawan simply cannot take advantage of his Master…” there’s really no need to be using this many terms of belonging, especially when they are outdated and irrelevant, but he just cannot… “On the contrary, I am the one who should be deeply ashamed for…mnnn-”

Anakin’s lips quiet him up, he was never a patient listener, never could hear his Master finish a thought. This is the most effective he had ever been at cutting Obi-Wan’s line of thought, by far. He kisses him in a way Obi-Wan would have never guessed him capable of— it’s soft, sweet, patient. A tender thing, careful, loving. Obi-Wan gasps. Thinking, dazedly of how Anakin will grow to be an amazing lover, so attentive, a beast holding back his fangs in favor of gentle lips…

The thought sets a burning coil of arousal deep in Obi-Wan’s gut.

Not good. Beyond not good. He should….

The thought is present and yet he licks at Anakin’s lips, asking for permission. He is granted one without resistance, without hesitance. Anakin’s lips part and he can taste him and oh, oh. Obi-Wan groans, muscles tensing as he shifts to sit straighter, moving a hand to Anakin’s nape and pulling him closer.

He nearly chokes when the boy sucks on his tongue, arousal shocking him into near soberness.

“Anakin…” he knows, there’s not enough alcohol in the universe to convince him that this is not going too far, he knows and yet…

He kisses Anakin again, a little hungrier, a little more wanting.

He must stop this madness. To think that he had started it, to think that he had taken advantage of his trusting, sweet—

“No, Master.” Anakin answers, and Obi-Wan wonders just how much of his shields is truly left if his thoughts can be read so easily, so plainly. “You’ve asked me to stay, and I will stay.” That assuredness is back, firm and leaving no space for argument. This is the same man who leads men on a battlefield, who commands, who leads. Obi-Wan finds it impossibly, undeniably, devastatingly attractive.

“You will sleep.” Anakin decides then, tearing his eyes away from Obi-Wan long enough to gesture at the lights, turning them off with the force. “And I will stay with you.” His eyes land back to Obi-Wan, dark mirth dancing in what Obi-Wan can still see of him. “To keep you safe, Master.” He is teasing him, the little devil.

“How will it even…” Obi-Wan doesn’t want to mention how narrow the bed really is, Anakin would know, with his constant complaints about how leg room and…

“Don’t worry about that.” Anakin answers, confidence so cocky, so boyish that Obi-Wan huffs a surprised laughter, breaking into giggling when Anakin practically falls on top of him. They struggle like that, laughter mixing, limbs tangling, hair in a mouth and fingers against sides— Anakin captures him then, they’re on their sides, Anakin’s back is firm as he pulls Obi-Wan all the way to himself, forming….

“Absolutely not!” Obi-Wan’s voice raises and breaks a little, attempting to wriggle out of the trap he inadvertently fell into. There’s still some pride life in him. He will not permit this Jedi Knight, his former Padawan no less, big spoon him, 16 years his senior and former Master. Force be his witness, he will not allow it.

Anakin makes a suffering, exasperated exhale when Obi-Wan manages to slip out of his grip— only to be yanked back by the force. All he manages is a choked gasp of protest before the air is knocked out of him, his back hitting a firm chest a little too hard. There’s a vindictive sort of satisfaction in hearing Anakin chokes out a surprised exhale too, clearly, he did not account for the impact being this strong.

“Karkin’ hell…” he hears the boy muttering and snorts out, laughing even while Anakin wraps his mechno-arm around him, pulling him back into the not-as-offensive as before little spoon position. Fine, he thinks. He’ll allow it, just for this one night….

His eyes close and he shudders when Anakin’s nose press against his nape, he can feel the slow, deep inhale— can feel the content exhale that follows.

“Finally.” Anakin breathes out, as if he was waiting for this moment longer than the few minutes just now. Like he needed it, himself. Like it was not Obi-Wan, pathetic and alone, messaging his former Padawan while drunk beyond reason that led him here, but his own needs, own wants. Like he needed this too, him. Like he needs him. Obi-Wan.

“Oh Force…” Obi-Wan calls upon it without realizing, without meaning it. Only the force can stand witness to this moment, judge it, measure it. Guide him, tell him right from wrong. “Force.” His voice trembles with it, realizing for the first time that Anakin does see him, in truth, does and still…

“It’s fine with it.” Anakin remarks, nonchalant, amusement coloring the timbre of his voice. “You don’t have to shout at her, I don’t think she like it very much” Anakin refers to the Force differently every time, Obi-Wan suspects he does it simply for the joy of throwing off the younglings.

It unsettles Obi-Wan as well, he will not admit that much, though. Anakin’s connection with the force was always stronger, always different than anyone else’s. If he’s saying that the Force is not finding this offensive…. Obi-Wan will trust him. Anakin enjoys messing around at times, stretching the truth about how the Force works, but he’d never lie about this, not to him.

Obi-Wan’s body relaxes so completely that he practically sags into Anakin, relief, so much relief. It feels…. Good. There’s rightness to it that even without the Force humming pleasantly in his ears, he’d recognize. Like sharing a sleeping cot in the war zones, minus the blood and gore and pain… it feels secure, it feels…good….

He feels himself being lulled to what he suspects will be a long and restful sleep. Such a luxury as of late. “Mnh..” He jolts a little when a hand moves across his side, resting at his hip bone and then back up to his side. He should not permit Anakin this much leeway with him and yet…. He likes it… oh he likes it.

So he doesn’t comment it, allowing him to continue, to stroke him and care for him, and hold him. He is not leaving.

Sleep comes ease, as easy as an inhale. One moment he is aware of all that surrounds him, the scent and warmth, the weight and touch. The next he is sinking into the open embrace of rest. Distantly, he feels the touch of a Force Signature he knows as well as his own. It is the only half of it, after all. Accepting it, is as easy as breathing too.

There’s a distant shift, even in sleep he can feel the bond snapping back into place, like moons falling into a familiar route, circling a singular sun. Maybe it was not Anakin who was the sun around which Obi-wan was revolving all along, but their shared….

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cheesy09 · 1 day

Text

[CN] Kiro's Wrapped in Silk Date

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

Note: This date explores some very suggestive themes, so if you do not meet the game's recommended 17+ age rating, I'd suggest to avoid reading this date.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 1]

The clear night sky seems to have been washed by spring water, and the stars are akin to diamonds against the dark blue gauze.

[MC's Company Name] has recently discussed collaboration with LEEZY, a well-know foreign fashion brand, and therefore I personally made the trip to come to their headquarters in West Asia.

The first reason being because they attached great importance to this collaboration, and second one being because Kiro too was filming in this city.

It's been three months since Kiro came here to film a movie. During this time, all we could do was accompany each other through the tiny screens of our mobile phones every day.

So when this opportunity to "visit work" presented itself, I immediately applied for a visa and flew over.

After several days of meetings and visits, the contract was successfully signed. The other party hoped that we could promote the latest season of their clothing.

I was also invited to attend this charity dinner party being held by the lake tonight.

In my drunken stupor, a slight sense of dizziness floods my head. I lift the shawl of my dress, shake the wine glass in my hand and look at the figure standing close by--

Kiro smiles and talks to the person in front of him, his golden hair shinning brightly in the darkness of night.

Seemingly noticing my gaze, he turns his face slightly, and his blue eyes catch my sight.

I raise my glass, smile at him, and take another slow sip. His eyes flicker for a moment and he calmly looks away from me.

Not long after, he smiles, nods, and comes to me with a glass of wine, lightly touching it to mine.

Kiro: I'm back!

MC: Was that the producer who invited you to the dinner just now? Why don't you chat for a little longer?

Kiro: We've already chatted for quite a bit. He even asked for my autograph for his little daughter.

Kiro: So, from now on, my time is all yours, MC.

Kiro: That being said... how much have you had to drink?

He seems to have noticed the unyielding warmth on my face. He raises his hand and gently touches the side of my face with the back of his hand.

That familiar body temperature departs as soon as it touches, leaving me feeling a little disappointed. I simply pinch his fingertips and take the opportunity to slip my fingers into the gaps between his.

MC: Not a lot, maybe... five or six glasses.

Kiro: That's not a lot...?

He lowers his head slightly and draws closer to me, the glimmer of expectation in his eyes quietly falling into mine.

Kiro: MC, should we run away?

MC: Now?

Kiro: Well~ You're going back to Loveland tomorrow afternoon, and I won't be back in China for another three weeks.

Kiro: There are less than 15 hours left. I don't want to waste another minute.

That reluctance tucked away in my heart is outlined by his words and tugs at my heartstrings.

All the work that needed to be discussed has been taken care of, so I nod. After paying our respects to the organizer, Kiro takes my hand and leaves the venue.

The taxi takes us all the way back to the hotel. After getting out of the cab, I stop, shake our intertwined hands and look at him eagerly.

MC: ...My feet hurt.

A smile seems to flash across those blue eyes. The next second, my body grows light and I'm being held in his arms.

Kiro: [chuckles indulgently] Hold me.

Amidst the cool night breeze, the embrace I am nestled in is particularly affectionate. I put my arms around his neck, and from time to time I run my lips across the side of his face, which is now slightly cooled by the night wind.

After entering the room, he bends down and gently places me on the small sofa.

The warmth that came from being close to each other seems to escape. Just as I am about to reach out and hug him, I suddenly feel my clothes tighten. Seemingly pulled by something, he too, falls towards me--

Those slightly wide blue eyes suddenly close in within my field of vision, and a warm softness unexpectedly falls against the corner of my lips.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 2]

The bright moonlight falls on the tip of his slender eyebrows, creating a faint white circle, akin to a piece of fallen snow.

His blue eyes appear deeper than usual. Through the moonlight, I can clearly see myself reflected in that clear spring.

The tenderness lingering at the corner of my lips stays for a moment, then departs slightly.

Kiro: Sure enough, you still smell like champagne.... I'll get you a glass of water.

I don't let go of the hands holding him. All I do is blink my eyes and soften my voice.

MC: ...I don't want to let go.

Noting my retention, he doesn't get up and just gently kisses my ear.

Suddenly, he pauses slightly, picks up the beaded chain on my clothes with one hand and shakes it.

Kiro: Turns out that there was a "trap" waiting for me here.

I follow his line of sight and see that the pearl chain from my clothes had somehow managed to get entangled with the accessories on his outfit.

Kiro: I won't leave. So... there's no need for this.

Those slender fingertips travel along the intricately wound chain and slowly disassemble it under the moonlight. Every now and then the silver chain reflects a cold silver light, like starlight dancing along his fingertips.

The alcohol gradually takes over my brain, and the person in front of me appears to be covered in a layer of mist under the moonlight.

My hands slowly slide along his arms to his back, feeling the familiar contours of his muscles under the thin layer of fabric. And when his tight buttons block the path of my fingertips, I gently undo them--

His white collar falls open a bit, revealing the lines of his collarbone.

Kiro: [Almost breathlessly] ....Why are you still being naughty?

MC: How could I....

When my nails gently scratch his waist, I feel the body under my fingertips stiffen slightly, and the breathing in the air suddenly grow heavier.

I blink innocently, finding some kind of pleasure in this long wait, and gently squeeze along his waistline.

Just as I'm busy enjoying myself, he suddenly grabs a hold of my wrist and then raises it above my head without any explanation.

At some point, he manages to untie the longest chain of beads and holds it casually between his fingertips.

His eyes, which have always been clear, are now stained with a hint of drunkenness, influenced by my own, and even his voice sounds hoarse.

Kiro: [huskily] If you keep making trouble like this, we won't be able to finish undoing this tonight.

Kiro: [x2] Leave your hands to me for now.

A cold touch falls on the skin of my wrist. Along with the slight rustling sound of metal, something wraps around my wrist one after another. Belatedly, my somewhat sluggish brain realizes that it's the chain that was untied from my dress.

My heartbeat inexplicably speeds up.

MC: [blushing] Kiro....

Kiro: [voice soft yet seductive] Don't move, it'll be fine soon.

As he says this, he deliberately slows down and enjoys every minute the peaceful moonlight has to offer.

The cold tassels brush against my skin from time to time, leaving at the first sign of touch. Tiny stimulations flow along my skin and blood vessels, causing my heartbeat to grow a little faster.

MC: Mmn...

I shrink on reflex, and he gently holds me down.

Taking in my state, he smiles softly, supports my knees and raises them slightly, lowering his head and kissing the spot where the chain grazes me.

His overwhelmingly hot breath seems to carry with it a small fire, burning along the blood in my veins.

As time passes by, the body's sensitivity seems to be heightened, feeling the other person with every ounce of strength.

I want to hug that warm back, but I find my hands tied together, unable to move freely. So I simply raise my ankle and gently press it against his calf.

As if eager to occupy the little time we have left, the breath tracing the side of my neck grows more and more rapid.

In the room soaked in moonlight, the tips of my fingers are tightly clasped, as if the vacancy formed during this period of time is being filled.

The overlapping of shadows is reflected on one side, almost blending together, blurring the slowly approaching moment of separation.

This night seems to go on forever, but also seems to pass by in an instant.

And amidst the chaos, I feel as if I'm being held in a scorching embrace.

Wanting to turn over a bit, I felt my wrist tighten. And when I open my eyes, I find a familiar metal chain still hanging on my wrist.

The other end of the chain is loosely wrapped around Kiro's wrist. Looking at the bright white pearls, my mind goes blank for a while.

At that moment, the mobile phone screen next to my ear lights up, and a travel information prompt pops up.

"The pre-scheduled flight has arrived. Please arrive at the airport two hours before departure to complete formalities..."

In that instant, the strength against my waist tightens slightly, and a tired warmth presses up against it.

Kiro: [sleepily] ...Is it morning already?

MC: Mm. It's time to get up.

I forcefully turn over and peck him softly on the lips.

He lets out a "Huh", turns over and pushes me under him. Using the grip of the chain, he grabs my wrist and nuzzles my neck.

Kiro: Okay, Kiro is attempting to get up. Progress is 1%, 14%...

Kiro: [sighing in mock defeat] Kiro has failed to get up and has now entered the Miss Chips mode with a five-minute countdown...

The person behind me mutters and hugs me tighter.

I don't know how many five-minutes pass before we finally get up from the bed and wash up.

Holding me in his arms, he helps me tie the straps behind my back.

Kiro: You really don't need me to take you to the airport?

MC: No need. Didn't the director give you an "ultimatum" to arrive on set by 1 o'clock in the afternoon at the latest?

MC: You concentrate on filming. I'll contact you when I get to the airport.

Hearing this, he curls his lips in frustration.

Kiro: Sigh... I wish I had a time machine. It could take us back to last night, or take me to 20 days later, when my filming ends.

I suppress the longing in my heart, raise my head and gently kiss his lips.

MC: You can rest for a few days when you get back. There are several new handicraft stores that have opened on Huapu Street. We can wait in line to visit them.

MC: Or we can play games together at home and rest together.

Kiro: Okay, it's settled.

Warm fingertips occasionally glide across my skin through the chiffon fabric, taking their time, fearing that this little time will quietly slip away from our fingertips.

Feeling a sense of comfort in my heart, I change my position and lean into his arms, gazing up at him.

MC: How long will it take you to fasten them?

Kiro: It's a bit complicated. Might take a while.

He looks at me and says earnestly.

Kiro: So, before you get ready and leave for the airport... let me hold you like this for a while.

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 3]

After returning to China, I put the new collaborative project on the agenda. And in the storm of work and overtime, three weeks quickly pass by.

Kiro has successfully completed his filming and returned to China. Our reunion lasts for about two nights, but I'm unable to find the time to fulfill the promise I made to him about going shopping together--

The release date of LEEZY's new season of clothing gradually approaches, but I still haven't formulated a promotional plan that I'm sold on yet.

MC: What's missing....

Facing a dozen documents on my computer, I find myself feeling a little distressed.

Just as I am about to pick up my mug and take a few more sips of black coffee to refresh myself, a warm embrace greets from behind.

Kiro: What are you sighing about?

I put down the black coffee, smile, turn around and hug him back.

MC: Did you sleep well?

Kiro: Mm-- I just dreamed that my Miss Chips was being chased by the document monster, and I quickly woke up.

MC: ...Don't tell me. That dream is quite vivid.

Noting my slight frustration, he rubs his chin on the top of my head and looks at my screen.

Kiro: Are you still writing about LEEZY's announcement?

MC: Yeah... Their latest season's clothes were the ones they gave me before, with a lot of straps on them.

MC: I've made several promotional plans, but they all seem to lack a bit of novelty...

Kiro: Generally, brands will focus on a theme when designing a new season clothing line. Wouldn't it better to explore options based on their theme?

MC: Their clothes this season all have a lot of straps and chains on them. Their theme of design is said to be "Entwining".

MC: But this theme has been done by other brands before, so I couldn't find a unique direction to take it in.

Kiro: If you can't get any ideas by just looking at the information, shouldn't you try out some other methods?

MC: For example..?

Kiro thinks for a moment and then snaps his fingers.

Kiro: I've got a good idea. Besides, I've got nothing to do today, so let me be Miss Muse's inspiration-finding assistant!

MC: [excited] What?

He pulls me up from my seat and winks.

Kiro: Of course, we're going to use the method we're both good at - shooting!

Kiro: But this time, let's switch roles. You can be the model.

Kiro: Hmm... This angle of the light box should be fine. For the lighting...

I change my clothes, walk into the huge dance studio, and see Kiro adjusting the bracket of the lighting board.

The backdrop has been decorated by him in a simple manner, with various colorful ribbons hanging loosely but not messily. A stool is placed in the center of the background wall.

When he sees me come in, his eyes light up, and he comes over and takes my hand.

Kiro: I want the opinion of a professional producer: What do you think? Is it pretty good?

MC: It's very layered, and the color and backdrop complement each other well!

Watching my eyes light up fills him with a sense of pride.

Kiro: Feeling the theme for yourself might give you different ideas.

He leads me to sit on the stool, guides me to hook my hand on the hanging ribbon, raises his camera and presses the shutter.

After taking a few photos in various positions, we lean in front of the camera and look at the pictures.

Perhaps because of his rich shooting experience, Kiro is very good at guiding postures and states.

Kiro: What do you think?

MC: The composition and lighting are very good, and can be used as a photo album. It's just... I still feel clueless.

I look through the pictures carefully one after another, but I still get the sense that something isn't right.

MC: ....Is it possible that the characters don't fit the environment well enough?

After listening to my words, Kiro also lowers his head and thinks for a while.

Kiro: Wait for a moment.

I watch him drag out a box from the standing cabinet on the side and rummage through it. Then he picks up a large number of differently styled decorative chains and ribbons.

MC: Why do you have so much of this stuff?

Kiro: They were all leftover props from previous shoots. I had a feeling that they'd come in handy sooner or later.

Kiro: Now, let me "transform" the model and scene.

After we add some of them to the background wall, we open the stool up wide and I sit directly in the middle of this tangled up scene.

Kiro holds a long ribbon and casually wraps it around my thigh.

The cool silk gently touches my skin, making me shiver and my entire body tenses up.

As if noting my slight nervousness, Kiro chuckles, drawing the ribbon around my waist, and then wrapping it loosely around my wrist.

Kiro: Don't be nervous. Do you still remember the lesson in perception you took before?

I follow his voice and recall that in the greenhouse, he had once taught me bit by bit how to use senses other than sight to feel.

Note: This is a callback to Perception Date :>

Kiro: [voice enticingly soft] Try searching for the feeling of having your body wrapped in ribbon.

Following his voice, I carefully feel the silk wrapping around my skin - soft and thin.

Kiro's mirthful voice is akin to the ribbon entwined around my body. He gently lifts it, leaving my heart feeling a bit itchy.

Kiro: [x2] Raise your right hand a little higher... yes.

The hand holding the ribbon moves, and the soft fabric slowly slides along my skin and tightens slightly. My eyes subconsciously follow it.

"Click"--

The soft click of the shutter occasionally dissipates in the quiet air.

He adjusts the position of the ribbon around my body, arms, neck...

And the soft fabric seems to come to life in his hands, ensnaring all of my thoughts and following in his lead.

Occasionally, he adds one or two thin pearl strands that make a crisp sound every time my body sways.

I think of the chain wrapped around my wrist on that moonlit night.

My heart beats loudly, and my ears are so hot that they are on the verge of bleeding. I can't help but move my body.

MC: ...You - please be serious.

Kiro: Hm? But I am seriously trying to help you find that "entwining" sensation.

His eyes widen slightly, but the curvature at the corners of his lips betrays the cunning in his heart. It's as if he's playing an interesting "game".

I purse my lips, suddenly curious about the "reason" that has captured his interest, and with a bit of force, I grasp a hold of his wrist.

His surprised face gradually enlarges in my field of vision. He stretches out his hand to the wall beside my face in order to support and steady his body, and for a moment, his breathing becomes chaotic.

MC: In addition to being entwined, I too want to experience what it's like to entwine someone...

MC: Can this superstar help me out?

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

[PART 4]

There's a hint of a smile present in his brow.

Kiro: Sure.

The hand holding me tightens. He turns me over and my entire body presses up against him.

A scorching body temperature comes from our closely connected skin, and the side of my face and the base of ears are also dyed in a slight warmth.

I prop up my body, and following his example, I slowly pull a ribbon from the side and gently touch it to his ear.

His whole body seems to relax, lazily waiting for my next move.

Kiro: [whispering temptingly] Need help?

MC: I - I want to experience this for myself first.

Even though I say this, I'm unsure as to what to do next. I aimlessly wrap the ribbon around his slender fingers and slowly slide it down...

Stopping on his well-jointed wrist.

I wrap the ribbon in my hand around his wrist, imitating his actions from that night, and tie it into a somewhat clumsy knot.

He arches his eyebrows slightly and glances at me.

Kiro: [I HV NO IDEA HOW TO DESCRIBE HOW SEDUCTIVELY HE DRAGGED HIS VOICE HERE BUT HNNG-] I see... I reasonably suspect that you're trying to "avenge yourself".

MC: I'm just serious about set design!

Another pale yellow ribbon is loosely wrapped around his neck. I hold the other end of the ribbon and trail it across his arms, chest, the curves of his sides...

Then, gently tighten it.

The hair of the person in front of me is slightly tousled, and entangles with the strings of ribbon scattered on the side.

Among these bright and beautiful colors, those blue eyes gazing at me get darker and darker.

Kiro: [temptingly soft again] Does this give you inspiration?

MC: My eyes have captured it... But I also wanted to capture this on camera.

I lift up my camera and capture this scene.

His languid eyes look directly into mine through the lens, like a warm current hitting my chest.

Kiro: [x2] Actually, there's something else that could also help you.

MC: ...What?

Kiro: [x3] Unlike entangling something, untangling these entanglements could also be fun... Do you wanna try it?

He holds my hand, guides my fingers to pick up a ribbon that had dropped onto his skin, and slowly pulls it away.

I look down at him, wrapped in colorful ribbons, and at this moment, he looks as if he's waiting to be unwrapped...

Like a gift.

The memory hidden in the recesses of my mind cause my heartbeat to pound a bit out of control.

Noting the pause of my hand, Kiro raises his eyes slightly, a couple of doubts present in his eyebrows.

Kiro: ...What's wrong?

MC: It feels like I'm opening a gift...

He startles slightly, and then a smile appears on his lips.

Kiro: I've always been a gift belonging to you alone. You can open it at any time.

The black ribbon absentmindedly wraps around his fingers, drawing out lingering memories and taking me back to that Valentine's Day filled with the scent of essential oils.

This time, I take over the role of "signee". I lower my head a bit and approach him, gently tugging on the silk threads in my hand.

MC: You are also the most precious gift given to me by God.

All of this is a call back to Entwining / Unwrap the Gift Date released for the game's first Valentine's day event :>

What answers me is a gentle pressure on the back of my neck and a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth.

The pounding in the left of my chest grows faster and faster, as if mirroring my desire to open this long-awaited gift to see what surprises are kept in store.

One by one, the ribbons are pulled away from him and scattered to the side.

After tearing them all off, I am left confused for a moment. He takes my hand and gently places it on the button of his shirt.

Kiro: [voice dark & husky] You're not done yet.

A burning sensation comes from beneath the thin silk fabric.

Kiro: [x2] Continue.

Bewitched by his gentle voice, my hand slowly travels down from his collar, and with just a slight flick of my fingers, the buttons of his white shirt come undone.

One, two...

Those blue eyes seem to bear an indescribable gravity. Just the way he gazes at me alone prompts me to draw closer and closer.

By the time the last button comes undone, our breaths completely merge.

His slender fingers grasp my wrist unobjectively and he lowers his head a bit, biting the chiffon string on the bust of my dress and gently tugging it open.

His scorching hot breath falls on the skin of my chest, like a falling spark, setting my entire chest on fire.

Kiro's eyes are half-lidded, and his somewhat hoarse voice carries an inexplicable rough quality to it that gently caresses my eardrums.

Kiro: [x3] Did you like that?

His headless and baseless words are so soft that they almost scatter with the heat of his breath, but they fall heavily onto my heart.

MC: Of course I liked it... In this world, I like you the most.

Upon hearing my answer, his breath suddenly surges and almost melts into my body.

Even though it's obvious that there is no pull from any thread, my body feels bewitched. I unconsciously murmur his name.

MC: Kiro....

My fingertips glide over his skin, seeking out his deeper exploration. He deliberately feigns ignorance, however, and tilts his head in curiosity.

Kiro: What's wrong?

His curled fingers tighten a bit, and the breath in my ears makes me feel as though my ears are about to combust into flames.

I bite my lip, unwilling to lose in this silent tug-of-war, and turn my face a bit to the side.

MC: I was just thinking that I do have more ideas... Mmn.

As if dissatisfied with my answer, he lightly nips at my collarbone, causing me to tremble slightly.

Kiro: [with the hint of a sulk] I can't believe you're still thinking about "work" right now, Miss Chips.

Kiro: Looks like I'm gonna have to get even more "serious" to make you think of me with all your heart.

There's a hint of dissatisfaction in his voice, and he presses the tip of his tongue to my collarbone and gently licks it.

He unties the chiffon straps on my chest bit by bit, slowly and carefully, his gaze, now shrouded in desire, still feeling extremely precious.

Due to the time we spend together, this throbbing that almost engulfs me never seems to fade away. It only gets stronger and stronger.

MC: I always think of you with all of my heart...

I close my eyes and allow our interlocked fingers to tightly intertwine.

The last strap of chiffon is finally undone. He gently releases his teeth and the soft strap drops to the floor beside him.

Daylight gradually fades, hiding away all the warmth and turbulence of the night.

[END]

——*:･ﾟ✧——*:･ﾟ✧——

More Translations: Here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro #THIS DATE IS HOLY GWACAMOLE WORLD ON FIRE 🥵#a delectable combination of some of his best dates - Invasion date; Perception date; Unwrap the gift date #the whole push and pull between kiro n mc here had me feeling all kinds of hot #it's also very VERY romantic #plus clingy mc >>>#truly a 100/10 date. the writers did fantastic

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