#i usually make them bittersweet but this one’s just awful | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

autistichalsin · 2 months

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Some of my favorite, understated moments with heartbreaking implications for Halsin

1. Halsin threatening to turn into a mouse in the epilogue if the player brags about his achievements- he's so shy and humble that just being acknowledged for LITERALLY BUILDING A COMMUNE HIMSELF makes him want to hide. A mouse is a very symbolic choice here: not only easy to hide, but also easily overlooked and forgotten. The idea of his accomplishments being acknowledged is so terrifying for him that he wants to turn into an animal no one will notice, instead of his usual strong, large, noticeable bear.

2. "Sometimes, I think people look at me and imagine my feelings can't be hurt." This isn't the kind of thing that happens after one or two people act like jerks. This is years and years of cruel treatment, of his emotions being demeaned and mocked because of his size. Of people judging him before even meeting him- and forming an entirely wrong view of him. Halsin is a bighearted, tender, sentimental man, yet because he's big... Well, big people don't have feelings, surely. /s

3. "You and I may struggle to go unnoticed in such environs, Karlach[...] Folk of our stature can be a lure for drunkards seeking a brawl, I have found," combined with, "There is a particular discomfort to besting one you know to be weaker than yourself - even when needs must," from a different scene. People have sought him out and fought him because of his size (which had to have been terrifying, especially the first time), and he feels guilty when he takes out someone he knows is weaker, even if they STARTED it. How many times has the poor guy been traveling and then had to defend himself against someone 1/2 his size, making HIM look like the asshole to onlookers, and reinforcing that whole "people think I can't be hurt" thing?

4. "It was always destined to be so, if we prevailed. But the foreknowledge makes it no less bittersweet..." (About the players' paths diverging post brain battle), combined with "I see... After all my years of living, I know all too well that nothing lasts forever. Yet a parting can sting, nonetheless," if the player breaks up with him in the ending. This poor guy was having the time of his life adventuring with the group (and possibly falling in love there) yet never believed it would truly last (because of his abandonment issues). And then to have it confirmed.... he must have felt so awful in that moment, even if he was being dignified about it.

5. "You came for me... thank you. I feared Orin's accursed smile would be the very last sight I beheld," when Halsin is freed from Orin, combined with, "Orin's blades. I hoped my friends would save me..." If he is killed by Orin instead and Speak With the Dead is used on his corpse. The tone of his voice in the first line, especially added to that bit in the second... he never thought the player was coming to save him. He HOPED they would. Not "believed". Hoped. He thought he was going to die there- just like how he was in the Underdark for THREE YEARS and no one came to save him. And if it's confirmed... Yeah. That. (Sidenote: if you ask his corpse if he has any regrets, he says not telling Thaniel and Oliver goodbye, and not getting to see their land flourish. :( My heart. :( )

6. "I... have not had true confidantes for some time. The Shadow Curse robbed me of almost all my peers, and replaced them with the weight of responsibility. Perhaps that caused me to gild undeserving memories of my youth." Halsin was so miserable and stressed being Archdruid that he romanticized his past as a sex slave, viewing it as a safer, even happier alternative. There were actually times when Halsin thought he might rather be a sex slave than continue to be Archdruid. In a sense, for the 100 years the Shadow Curse was around, Halsin was just as much a prisoner as Thaniel was in the Shadowfell, but Halsin's prison had invisible bars. The Shadow Curse took away his entire support system, and being Archdruid forced him to be the strong one, always, never allowed to be weak or scared, forced him to take control of situations when he hated it, forced him to spend his time sorting out people instead of being in nature. And he was MISERABLE. For 100 years.

7. "You understand me almost perfectly. Only my late mother may have bested you." (Said if you get one question wrong at the love dryad test). He misses his mama. :( Especially when you consider that if you steal Balthazar's "Mother Dearest" and taunt him about it, Halsin disapproves (and is the only one to do so), while returning her gets you approval (which only Halsin approves of). And then the line when you look into a mirror while controlling him, "more like my father, with each passing day..." He really misses them. :(

8. "I am loathe to see anyone behind bars. It reminds me of my time as a guest of the goblins." He is, secretly, still quite traumatized from his time in the goblin pens, but he brushes it off. Just like every OTHER time he is hurt.

9. "I am aware [of having a habit of getting captured]. Perhaps I put too much faith in my skills of negotiation, or want to see good where there is none. It would be easy to resort to nature's fury whenever something stood in my way, yet I cannot help but feel I would be sullying the Oak Father's gifts. Naive perhaps... but I still draw breath." Halsin is aware he gets hurt often because of his desire to see good in people until he has no other choice, but refuses to give up anyway (which is backed up by that letter Gut had on her where she reveals Halsin TRIED to help the goblins, saying he could cure them of their tadpoles, only to be thrown in the cage, with Gut threatening to have his stomach cut open and maggots placed inside it.) Further, even though he is an Archdruid, and one of the most devoted, and explicitly has Silvanus's favor (Halsin says that gaining his favor was the only way he was able to open the portal to the Shadowfell), he still constantly worries about using Silvanus's powers, to the point of wondering if an actual threat to his safety actually merits using his powers. Which... combined with some other stuff, reads like one hell of a problem with self-worth.

10. "At least you were not present. Grim as [the ruined battlefield] is now, it was worse on the day of the battle. A vivid wound upon my memory[...] I was lucky - I lived, when so many did not. It would take me a day and a night to recite the names of all the friends I lost" combined with, "I was [present when the Shadow Curse was unleashed]. Part of my spirit was shorn away from me here, and never left," and, if Last Light falls, "All gone... devoured by the shadows. Oak Father preserve us, it's just like a hundred years ago[...] We are [still standing]. Yet there is a burden to being the survivor... the witness to others' tragedies. It only grows heavier with time." He has so much PTSD and survivor guilt from the Shadow Curse. :( No wonder it's all he can think about- to the point that some of the other companions even get annoyed at him for his obsession.

11. "I never quite realised how burdened I was, until I met you. The threat of the shadow curse, the politics of the grove... I was forgetting who I was, but you lifted the fog. Thank you." Not only does this tie in with the above, with his PTSD from the curse and his utter misery at being Archdruid, but this HEAVILY implies Halsin had depression. Like... that "fog" line hits HARD if you have or have had depression, because that's exactly what it feels like. And the "forgetting who I was" bit too. Not just losing his sense of self to the depression, but to the neverending responsibilities of being Archdruid. I keep repeating myself, but damn, this guy has really and truly spent an entire century being absolutely MISERABLE. :(

12. "Forgive me. I... lost the run of myself. Sometimes, if blood runs hot enough, it's difficult to tame the beast." With that little disgusted groan/sigh, the fury and disgust at himself visible on his face, and the way he rushes to get out the rest of it- he thinks he fucked up so badly that you're about to leave him, maybe forever. And then if you reject him after this? "Ah... I see. Well, of course. Back to camp then." He has the most heartbroken look on his face here, and the way he says "of course" like he just... knew this was coming the instant he accidentally wildshaped. He felt that the first time he let ANY of his imperfections show, the player would leave him. :(

13. "Death is nature's final slumber - it awaits us all. Do not punish yourself over those lost, or give in to despair - not while there are still folk in need of your help." (Said to a Dark Urge if they tell him they're not much of a hero and most people needing them end up dead) Not only is Halsin speaking from experience here, but it's very clear he is STILL doing exactly what he tells Durge not to do, to himself- punishing himself over those who were lost, struggling with devastating survivor guilt.

14. "The grove has cut itself off from the world, to jealously guard its own little pocket of nature. No one shall ever enter or leave again. And I have been evicted from the very place I was charged to safeguard. A telling summary of my time as Archdruid, perhaps..." If the Grove is sealed and you ask him about it later, this is what he says. Interesting that he views being evicted from the place he was in charge of protecting to be a "telling summary." He was forced to take the leadership role there, and yet it was clear he wasn't wanted or respected by a great number of the Druids (exempting Nettie, Rath, and Apikusis). He got a truly thankless job that took damn near EVERYTHING from him emotionally/mentally, causing him to develop depression and causing him to backslide in his previous healing from his trauma from his time as a sex slave, he still gave EVERYTHING to the Grove, and in return...... almost none of his Druids appreciated or even liked him. (I could seriously write at least five metas about how obviously miserable Halsin was at the Grove, despite caring for it deeply).

15. "You could have done anything, gone with anyone... yet you chose me." Said at the epilogue to a solo romanced player who went to the commune with him. There's so many layers of heartbreak here. He is still surprised, six months later, that the player chose him. He even thinks the player will regret it, and will decide they want an adventurer's life after all after seeing everyone else. He doesn't think he is good enough- doesn't think he deserves the player, and yet at the same time he loves them so much that he is heartbroken over the possibility they might agree with him. He thinks that given a chance, there is little chance they would actually choose him again. (He is put at ease quickly when the player promises they picked him for a reason, but even the explanation he gives for why he was so worrie is heartbreaking- that he's so used to a tumultuous life that he thinks something must go wrong. He has been so traumatized so many times over the years that he just has almost no ability to think that true happiness is possible [or deserved] for him.) Something about that is just heartbreaking, even though his ending is one of the happiest of any of the companions.

Someone give this sweet bear man a hug, please :(

#halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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beneathashadytree · 2 months

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SLOW MORNINGS - NANAMI KENTO X READER

Warnings : none I think, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : domestic fluff for daysss <3

Word count : 1.2K words

Additional notes : This was fully inspired by this gorgeous, gorgeous Nanami art I saw on X by @3-aem. I dedicate this piece to my bff Mona (she’s the best ever btw!!!) and to the man himself whom I miss an awful lot.

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Most weekdays, they’d wake up to a gentle kiss to their forehead, almost fleeting. With bleary eyes and still feeling quite groggy, they’d barely make out the figure of their husband, buttoning up his suit jacket as he made his way out of their bedroom. He’d glance back, and the corner of his lips would curl upward ever-so-slightly at seeing them lazily paw at the sheets to pull themself up.

With a quiet, “Good morning. I’ve made you breakfast,” Nanami would quickly set their heart pounding so early in the morning. It didn’t matter how late he was running (he almost never was, anyways, being such a man of routine), he’d always make sure to make enough breakfast for the two of them. It wasn’t anything too fancy by any means, but they were both content by the gesture itself more than anything.

When they’d first started living together, he’d been hesitant to wake them up every morning, but their insistence to see him off to work, and his desire to see them blink up at him so endearingly, won out in the end. And so that’s how their routine was born—out of a gentle love and the little habits that came with it and they built their lives upon.

When their body slowly dragged itself out of a deep slumber and they began to rub the sleep out of their eyes, it took them a bit to register the sun filtering through the slits between the airy bedroom curtains. They danced in the slight breeze, teasing pretty little shadows across the dresser and causing the mirror by the end of the bed to glint a little with each shift of the fabric.

Ah, it must be late morning.

With just a little more difficulty than usual (after all, they had to pay a hefty price for getting to sleep in), they began to shuffle out of bed and across the hall, where they could smell the bittersweetness of roasted coffee beans and fresh cream. It lingered in the air longer than it did on most days, and that was how they knew that their husband had—finally—the time to indulge in his morning cup.

It wasn’t a half-bad sight to wake up to, really. There he was, leaning against the couch’s armrest while his other arm balanced his slumped head, a slightly-weathered book in hand. It seemed that leisurely position was all he could do to stop himself from dozing off, the week’s exhaustion clearly leaving him barely able to stay awake regardless of how engrossed he was by what he was reading.

Though Nanami wore nothing remarkable—just his favorite t-shirt and pants, a little crumpled from the position he sat in—he somehow still managed to look like the picture of elegance. Perhaps it was the doing of the thin-framed glasses perched on his nose; something they’d long egged him on to get prescribed, after having caught him squinting at small-lettered fonts one too many times.

All half-consciousness considered, he seemed to be pretty immersed in what he was reading, and the slow turn of a page despite them having walked in meant that he hadn’t even noticed their presence. A small amused smile came on their face, and they pattered up to him, the cold of the floorboards a little sobering.

“I don’t know how you manage to do it.” Their voice sounded a little scratchy, but that was fine. A slight flicker of his hazel eyes was the only indication that he’d been startled by them, before his face melted into an expression of contentment. His freckles stretched across his fair skin, and with each wrinkle that marked a year of growth, they think they fell in love a little deeper.

They suspected that part of the reason why they found the sight of him so mesmerizing was the knowledge that they get to see him grow old beside them. A fanciful thought, admittedly, but no less true.

“Do what?” Nanami softly asked, shifting his position and setting his legs down on the floor. He didn’t even have to do more than just leave his arms open a little for them to take the invitation and crawl into his lap.

As soon as they settled with their back against the armrest, his free hand began to absentmindedly stroke at their calf, while the other set the book down (a Victorian classic he was currently enamored with, though he regretfully had little time for) in place of the cast aside—and fully drained—coffee cup. Every single object he touched, he seemed to breathe a little life into.

Sometimes, it felt like that was the case with the entire house. Sometimes, it even felt like he did that to themself too.

“Not sleep in on weekends. How you still wake up at a decent hour is beyond me.” They shook their head in mild disbelief, reaching out to push back a strand of blond hair that fell in front of his face. He looked so much more at ease like this; hair just tucked back and not styled to perfection as it usually was. Hell; even his features had softened and the sharp lines and edges of his face had dulled into the familiar warmth they liked to feel underneath their fingertips.

He hummed, partially to voice agreement and partially as he reveled in their touch grazing his cheek. “Force of habit.” It was only when he began to lean in with eyes brimming with affection that they had to put a finger to his lips, causing him to grunt.

“Haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

Nanami huffed out a half-laugh, gently pushing their finger down. “Doesn’t really matter,” he mumbled against their lips, before stealing a short but no less sweet kiss. Still, he gave into their wishes, choosing a chaste peck over the slow, all-consuming kisses he liked to indulge them in. He could never say no to whatever they wished.

A quick glance at the empty table brought another thing to their attention. “You haven’t had breakfast yet?”

“No. I thought I’d wait and cook breakfast with you.” His deft strokes against the skin of their leg were almost as distracting as his silken voice. “We haven’t done that in a while.”

“Surely you haven’t missed the mess I end up making,” they said, arching an eyebrow at him, to which he chuckled.

“Not the clean-up part, no,” he agrees, a smile dancing across his lips. “But messy as your methods might be, it’s more efficient that way.”

“And more fun.” They began to begrudgingly slide off his lap, knowing that they would have to get up sooner or later for food before they could laze around for the rest of the day.

“And more fun,” their husband agreed, fondness lacing his softly-spoken words as crow’s feet appeared by his eyes. Like it was merely second nature to him, a large palm rested against the small of their back as they walked to the kitchen, marking the start of a slow, laidback day at home. “Eggs benedict and fruits?”

“Hmm… I’m feeling more like an omelette and sausages today, honestly…”

Taglist : @blondeboyfriend @mrsgiovanna @sherlockscumslut @the-foreigner @thispersoniscrazy @em-3456 @angry-and-yandere @avvsfs

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booksandabeer · 2 months

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A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy) (E | 150 K)

To celebrate the completion of the fourth & final part Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) in this wonderful series by dorian_burberrycanary.

Author's summary: The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road? A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky fix-it as part of the all-American road trip, detours included.

Follow Steve and Bucky on their Great American Road Trip as they drive and eat their way across the country and beyond. From the beaches of the Jersey Shore to the graveyards of Savannah, from the cragged horizons of Mexico to deserts with (small) volcanoes, from college campuses to earthship settlements, from the mountains of Colorado to the monumental emptiness of the Great Plains and on and on and on…there is always more road ahead.

A Man Takes... is a miracle of a series that works with what should be an unworkable premise: Steve really did leave to go live in the past. He returned a few months later, yes, but he still made that choice. Knowingly. So, how can any author, any story, rectify such a colossal mistake, and how can it be reconciled with a believable, satisfying romance that short-changes neither Steve nor Bucky? Like this. With patience, and care, and often painful honesty. Just like Steve, this story slowly digs itself out from under the burden of that terrible decision.

I know that some people are very reluctant or even outright refuse to read EG-compliant fics and I understand why this might be a tough sell for them. Believe me, I do. But this series manages to neither let Steve off the hook for his choices nor does it punish him excessively. Instead, Steve and the readers are repeatedly confronted with the fact that there are no magical solutions here, no take-backs—it’s a fix-it, yes, and very much a Stucky fic through and through, but it’s not a fix-it fantasy where in the end everything turns out to have been an unfortunate misunderstanding after all. What's done is done and the only way out is through. But. even if you usually prefer to ignore anything that happened post-[insert preferred point of canon divergence here], please, please try to give this absolute marvel of a series a chance. It is genuinely one of the most rewarding and satisfying works I've ever read in this fandom. It's catharsis in slow motion.

You will find descriptive writing here that is so incredibly beautiful that it will bring you to your knees in awe. This series transcends fanfiction in many ways, as it stands out for the remarkable quality of the prose and the nuance, subtlety, and precision with which it explores both the emotional landscapes of its protagonists and a fictionalized, yet very recognizable post-Snap America. At the same time, it could only ever work as fanfiction because it stays so close to the characters and is so deeply rooted in and filtered through Steve’s inner life and perspective. Just like the real Steve Rogers, this story is smart and curious, and deeply empathetic towards its characters and the world they inhabit.

Every detail is imbued with meaning. The food Steve and Bucky eat. The clothes they wear. The art they look at. The books they read. The music they listen to. The places they stay at. The landscapes they drive through and the objects they carry with them or acquire along the way. One doesn't need to understand or even notice all of the references, allusions, or ambiguities to enjoy the series, but it makes for such a rewarding reading experience to really dig deep into the many, many layers the author has so expertly assembled into this phenomenally rich text. More often than not in this fic, the curtains aren’t just blue. Or rather, Bucky’s sweatpants aren’t just gray.

At some point amidst this sprawling, reflective journey, a bittersweet realization sets in: There simply is no compensation for the time and life lost, for the pain suffered. No money, no medals or statues, no hagiographies, and certainly no delusional pipe dreams forcibly made real, will ever make up for all that loss. You can't outrun your past, but that doesn't mean you should bury yourself in it. And maybe, solace can be found in mutual understanding, not just between these two men, but in interactions, in shared community—however fleeting—with ordinary people doing ordinary things in their ordinary lives. And in the beauty of the mundane and the relief that there still is a world in which such beauty can exist, even though it is so often a cruel and unjust place. Steve Rogers finally allows himself to feel his feelings: his grief and his shame, but also his joy and—even though he’s already so very tired—his hunger for more: more time, more life, more Bucky.

This series is a wonderful tribute to Steven Grant Rogers—an honest and affectionate portrayal of this compelling and lovable, if at times difficult, character. It is also a gorgeous, intricate love letter to the miracle of a man that is James Buchanan Barnes. As you can probably tell by now, I love it a totally not normal amount.

A most heartfelt thank you to @burberrycanary for taking us all along on Steve and Bucky's long journey across America and (back) to each other. Thank you for letting us sit in the back seat and watch as they learn to love and live with each other in old and new ways, finally find some measure of well-deserved rest and peace, and, together, face their greatest challenge, their longest fight, the eternal question:

How to live with all this survival?

#stucky fic rec #or: a completely unhinged and very sappy & very gushy love letter to this series.#stucky #steve x bucky #steve x bucky fic rec #stucky fic #stevebucky #my recs

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annabethy · 7 months

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"i won't tell a soul"

There are a lot of things Annabeth had never imagined about her life.

For starters, she’d never imagined herself making it this far. Twenty years isn’t all that much in the grand scheme of things, but it feels a lifetime away from when she was seven years old, wondering if it would ever get better. Somehow, she’s far from the little girl running from monsters with her tiny fingers wrapped around a hammer. It’s entirely different having the warmth of a home and people to come home to.

She’d also never imagined herself here, lying in the arms of someone who’d walk through hell with a smile if it meant keeping her safe.

It’s a nice change, she thinks, watching Percy’s rhythmic breathing. It’s dark in the living room, the only light sprinkling in through the icy windows, but it’s just enough for her to make out the shape of him, to analyze the rise and fall of his chest every few seconds and just feel relief that he, too, had made it this far. Annabeth had spent far too many years terrified that each breath she watched him take would be his last.

Like the snow to the ground, those worries fade away.

Annabeth would drift to sleep, but she finds that she doesn’t want to quite yet, so she watches him some more. They hadn’t intended to fall asleep on his mother’s living room couch, but it turns out watching movies all night is easier said than done when you’re two demigods battling something far more exhausting than monsters: college. She knew he was exhausted that day anyway, and he probably would’ve gone to bed earlier to begin with if it weren’t for her begging for a movie night.

He’s not usually the first to sleep, but she’s not complaining. She’s warm in his arms, cheek pressed to his chest, and she can’t really move without risking waking him up, but there are worse places to be and worse battles to fight. She should know. She’d been running from them longer than she can remember. Until now, anyway. Annabeth hopes it can always be like this, snowy nights in his mom’s apartment. She knows it won’t always be, but maybe that’s okay too. They get to really live now, without fear that each kiss is their last. They get the chance to grow up and have these nights in their own apartment. She imagines there will be marriage, and eventually, a few kids. Sons and daughters.

The thought is bittersweet. As much as she wants that, she doesn’t want to give this up.

For a while longer, she doesn’t have to.

She shifts in closer to Percy, digging her nose into the soft fabric of his sweater, and she just exists. She exists until the world around her fades, until the arms around her back tighten and she feels safer than she ever has. Until she thinks she might drift to sleep, if it weren’t for the warm lips pressing to the curve of her ear, and the sleepy voice that asks, “Are you okay?”

Annabeth smiles softly and lifts her face to catch the eyes that stare back at her. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Percy stretches languidly, but he keeps her gathered close. “Only a little.”

She giggles softly at the nonsensical answer, resuming her place against his chest when he’s done shifting around. It’s the little things she notices, like his index finger tracing shapes into her back beneath her gray crewneck stolen from his closet, light as the feeling flowing through her. It’s the big things she notices too, like the way he moves his hand away from that spot to lift her chin away from his chest so he can give her a proper kiss or two, and one on the nose for good measure.

“We can head to my room,” he suggests quietly, voice still laced with sleep. “You don’t look very comfortable.”

“I’m fine,” she assures. “Go back to sleep.”

“And miss out on your pretty face?”

“You had no qualms five minutes ago.”

“And I feel awful about it, really.” Percy gives her another sweet kiss. She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “Have you been up long?”

“A bit,” she answers vaguely.

“And you didn’t wake me up? Was I not invited?”

“Your lack of sleep is making you delirious,” she tells him. “Go back to sleep, Percy.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Stare at your pretty face,” she mocks.

Percy gasps, and though she can’t see him, she imagines him shooting her an insulted look when he pinches her side.

“It was a compliment!”

“It was not and you know it.” His hand rubs over the spot he’d pinch in apology, not that it had really hurt in the first place. “Seriously, let’s go to bed. I feel bad keeping you up.”

“You’re not keeping me up,” she promises. “I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking?” She can hear the grin in his voice. “What about?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Well, now you’ve got me on the edge of my seat. I won’t be able to sleep until you tell me.”

“You make a good point,” Annabeth kisses his jaw. “But no.”

“You prick.”

“You love me.”

“I really do,” he laughs. “A shame. I could have anyone I want if I so much as look at them–”

“Sure you can, buddy.”

“But I don’t because you love me too.”

“Who said that?”

“Do you not?”

“I don’t not, but I also didn’t say that,” she points out, snickering. “You’re making assumptions here.”

“Okay, aside from the million times you’ve said it before, yeah, I made some assumptions there.” Percy grabs her face and brings her close. Now, she can see the playful twinkle in his eye, and she can feel the breath that hits her lips with each shallow inhale. “But you do, right?”

Annabeth just laughs in his face. “I have a secret.”

And Percy seems to know where this is going. He squeezes her cheeks twice before letting go. “Please tell me your secret. I’ll die without knowing this secret of which I have no idea what it could possibly be.”

“It’s really embarrassing. You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“I will not promise that. Now, tell me.”

“It could destroy my life, Percy. Promise me.”

Percy’s laughing now, and she is too. Their voices are hushed because his mom and sister are a few doors down, and the last thing she’d want to do is risk waking them up. She’d feel guilty if they did, but it would also disturb this carefully balanced peace that is far and few between on nights like these.

His nose nudges hers. “I promise.”

“I love you too.”

It would’ve always come to this. They’ve made it this far. They’ve made it past the worst.

“You can trust me,” he says, pulling her closer. “I won’t tell a soul.”

#this is from august 5 2022 #MY BAD #my writing #I honest to god forgot how to write

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spideystevie · 2 years

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come back ... be here

summary: the summer before college is the cruelest time to fall in love

word count: 4.8k

a/n: got this idea from #17 on this prompt list also loosely based on come back...be here by taylor swift. i am absolutely obsessed with the chasing down/running to your lover to tell them you love them moments in romcoms so i hope this delivers that. there’s some swearing but that’s it. just your classic friends to lovers.

Hawkins has been all you’d ever known. Tree lines and lazy stoplights, friendly smiles and small town camaraderie. It was as much a comfort as it was a cage. The fear you’d always be stuck in your tiny hometown, never getting the chance to branch out and plant roots in other places. It was a stinging ache in your chest, monotonous and persistent.

Your big escape lived in New York City. There was something in the promise of a city that never slept, of the people you passed never being the same ones each day, of a new beginning that made your chest ache in a different way. Something saccharine yet bittersweet.

The days dragged away, heavy and long, one after the other after you sent away your application. You weren’t sure it would come back as an acceptance, but you also weren’t sure what you would do if it came back as a rejection. It’d be the final nail in the coffin, a finality you couldn’t accept.

March was washed away and April bloomed like wildflowers in the fields. Songbirds chirped as the sun lifted over the horizon, washing the town in hues of orange and gold. A freshness blew in with the wind, sun-drenched and floral. Full of hope and new beginnings.

The wooden chair at your dining table creaks as you sit down. A yawn escapes you, fingers wrapped around your favorite mug filled with fresh coffee. You’d slept in, grateful for a day off at work though you missed being obligated to see your friends for hours a day. The house is quiet, empty like usual with your parents away on business. It makes the sound of the mail coming in from the slot in the door that much louder.

It hits the entryway floor with a smack and you pause, cup of coffee halfway raised to your mouth. You set it down on the table gingerly before standing. The chair screeches against the floor when you push away from the table and stand. You’re still in your sleep shorts and a sweater so old you can’t remember if it belonged to you or Steve first.

Your footsteps are quiet but your knees crack when you bend to pick up the mail. You shuffle through it, freezing at an envelope placed towards the bottom. A purple return address next to the NYU crest, your name clearly printed in the very center. An eager anxiety pricks at your stomach. You drop the stack of bills and miscellaneous mail on the table near your forgotten cup of coffee, feeling more awake than ever.

Your feet carry you up the stairs to your room and you shut the door behind you though there’s no one else home. The letter felt like a ticking bomb you needed to diffuse and you stared at it with a disbelieving awe. You could’ve opened it in the front room of your house but your bedroom seemed like the safest place. A waiting solace if you opened it and everything fell apart.

The envelope is thick and heavy in your hands. You trace your fingertips delicately over the NYU crest in the corner. It feels dreamlike, hazy around the edges and you have to pinch the skin on your wrist to make sure you’re not dreaming.

Maybe you should’ve called Steve before deciding to open up the ticket to your future. But there was something about this moment that felt like you needed to be alone.

You hadn’t thought this moment would come when you graduated a year ago. You’d settled for the few odd courses at the community college nearby, content with stocking tapes at Family Video and saving up money to escape your small town with your best friend.

Steve had been the one to shove the application in your hands, knowing it had been your ultimate goal. You’d protested at first, worried you wouldn’t get in and unwilling to deal with the sadness that’d come with that. But Steve had persisted, nothing but supportive the whole way.

Nerves make your hands tremble as you carefully tear into it and you take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you pull the letter out. Your movements are careful, concise as you inch it out of the envelope. It shakes slightly from the anxious tremor in your hands as you read.

We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance to…

You never finish reading it, the paper falling to your bedroom floor as you let out a squeal. Your grin is contagious as you stoop to pick the paper up, practically sliding down the stairs in your home in your haste to leave and tell Steve.

You forget you’re still in your pajamas as you all but speed down the small streets of Hawkins towards Family Video. The acceptance letter, creased and a little wrinkled from your tight grip, sits on the passenger seat of your car. The parking lot is empty, the asphalt shining beneath the springtime sun. You nearly forget to lock your car in your excitement after you park.

The bell above the door jingles as you yank it open, rushing into the store with your letter clutched at your side. It’s empty save for one customer at the back of the store being helped by Robin and Steve who sits behind the counter. He looks up when he hears you come in, an amused and endearing smile taking over when he sees you still in your sleep shorts and that old sweater, hair slightly mussed from sleep. His eyes hone in on the piece of paper at your side.

“I got in!” you exclaim before Steve can greet you, waving the letter in the air and shaking it for good measure. Your smile is bursting at the seams. You’re shining like the sun in the sky. Steve’s mouth parts, jaw falling slack.

“Seriously?” he says it like you’re kidding him but a surge of pride takes over when you nod.

“Seriously!” you wave the letter again. His lips split into the biggest grin and he’s sliding over the top of the counter in a flash. Steve crushes you in a hug, nearly crumpling the letter between the two of you. Your heart swells and picks up its pace at the gesture, something that feels natural though slightly confusing.

“M’so proud of you,” Steve says, voice muffled in your neck. He pulls back, immediately reaching for the paper in your hands to read it for himself. He mumbles it under his breath through the most genuine and proud smile you’ve ever seen on his face. “We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance to the school of Liberal Arts at New York University…”

Somehow it sounds even more surreal coming out of Steve’s mouth. Robin comes over a minute later, an eyebrow poised as she takes in your appearance and Steve’s grin, the paper still in his hands. “What’s going on here?”

“I got in!” you grab the paper from Steve, all but shoving it in Robin’s face. Her eyes widen as she looks from the letter to you, back and forth before pulling you into the tightest hug. She pulls back, hands on your shoulders.

“I knew you could do it!” she squeezes your shoulders and then pulls you into another hug. The saccharine and bittersweet ache blooms heavy in your chest watching Robin read over the letter, your two friends fawning over you with more pride than you’ve ever seen. The realization of a goodbye in the future floats around your head and you push it away, leaving it for the end of a summer that has yet to begin.

The summer that follows your acceptance feels like a new beginning. It’s turning a new leaf in life. It flips the page to a new chapter in your friendship with Steve. A delicate beginning rush.

It wasn’t a secret to anyone who watched the two of you that there was something stronger lingering beneath the surface of platonic interactions. The world was a foggy shade of rose, dull enough to go undetected by the both of you.

As June gave way to July and July bled into August, the fog lessened. Vision growing sharper around the edges, dusty rose seeming to permeate it whenever one of you was around the other. The nights spent together grow later and later until you’re minutes away from being asked to stay over instead of being driven back home. It’s lingering glances and fleeting touches, smiling a little too wide when you see him and cheeks burning vermilion when he sees you.

You and Steve fell in love beneath a summer sun, flickers of love spotting in your hearts like new freckles on skin. It’s a blur of honeysuckle walks and close calls, moments spent in Steve’s pool that were more flirty than friendly. You’d almost tasted Steve and chlorine in the dead of July, his lips pressing wet against the plush of your cheek instead as you yelped at a honey bee buzzing past your head. It’s melted ice cream cones leaving you with sticky fingers and late night drives, your head poked out of the car to see the stars in the sky.

The two of you know it before you’re conscious of it. You realize it sooner than Steve, hanging on a thread that something will give before you catch your flight at the end of August. Pulling and tugging at the frayed ends, hoping Steve will join you in the little enclave you’ve carved out in your heart. Steve crash lands into love, head spinning when he realizes it, August feeling like it’s slipping away like a moment in time.

A final summer. It’s the cruelest way to fall in love.

Your last night in Hawkins is spent with Steve. A final movie night. A final goodbye. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders, sinewy muscle a comforting weight while you’re pressed into his side, knees bent and almost resting in his lap.

He let you pick the movie despite it really being his turn to pick. A John Hughes movie plays on the television in his living room, something Steve always associates with you. An empty bowl of popcorn sits by your feet on the couch. Steve smiles when you laugh and pretends to be annoyed when you quote the lines on screen with the characters.

The screen fades to black, feeling like a goodbye in itself. Your stomach drops while the credits rise on the screen. Steve tenses beneath you, the two of you more than aware of what the movie ending means for the two of you. You don’t move, wishing there was a way you could stay here forever.

Steve was your final goodbye before your morning flight tomorrow and you were dreading it.

He would give anything to freeze time for another week just to have more time with you. He knows it’s silly, that you’ll be back when the seasons change again but something in him wants to beg you to stay. You both hesitate by his front door, not knowing how to say goodbye to someone you’ve just begun to love. You dragged out tying your shoes as long as you could, hugged Steve more times tonight than you can count.

Something in him is prodding his brain, urging him to tell you everything like he’d planned to tonight. He’s not sure how he can. You stumble through the whole goodbye, extending it out to the empty street where your car is parked.

Your eyes seem to plead with him. For him to tell you that he’s in love with you too, to ask you to stay. A part of you thinks you would if he asked.

He never does.

He hugs you tight one last time, bodies pressed so close together you think you might melt into one. You wish you could. You lean back enough to look at him, eyes darting all around his face like you’re trying to commit every angle and plane, every freckle and mole to memory.

Steve looks at you with a deep intensity, the beginnings of a confession sitting on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he says, “you’ll call me?”

“So much you’ll be sick of me. I’ll even send letters by carrier pigeon if I have to,” your lips quirk into a sad smile. Steve laughs softly though there’s a seriousness etched into his features.

“I’d never be sick of you,” his voice is husky and low. It spreads heat to every part of your body, makes your heart bruise your rib cage. Something in the way he says it feels like a confession in itself and just when you think you’re going to get one, he presses a long and lingering kiss to your cheek.

He opens the driver's side door of your car for you, giving you a tight smile. You blink at him as he takes a couple steps back towards his front door.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” he calls from a few feet away. You muster up as much of a smile as you can and nod. You grip the side of the car door with one hand, the other resting on the roof of your car. You watch his back recede from you as he gets closer to his front door.

“Hey, Steve?” you call out. The tiny flame of confidence inside you gets snuffed out when he turns around, eyes a little wide and his hands in his front pockets. You swallow, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. There’s a long pause as you debate what to say, a confession now sitting on your tongue. Instead, “miss you already.”

“Miss you too,” his smile is sad, twinged with heartbreak. “Have a safe flight.”

And then he’s turning back around and you get in your car, the engine revving to life. You don’t drive off until you see the front door close behind him.

Steve feels incredibly mopey the next morning. A heavy disappointment hangs on his shoulders, the regret of not telling you eating at his stomach. The pestering nag from the night before persists even as he gets dressed and heads to work.

When you had gotten your acceptance letter, excitement bleeding out of you and pride heavy in Steve’s eyes, the day you had to leave seemed like it was years away. To Steve, it felt like he blinked and it was here. In a few short hours you’d be on a flight to New York, miles away from Hawkins until the winter holidays.

It didn’t feel right going into work without you in the front seat of his car. It didn’t feel right that he’d be stocking tapes with Robin while you were soaring through the sky overhead.

He gets to work the same time you arrive at the airport. A new box of tapes sits on the counter that Robin has already started working on. A few stacks of new releases are already sitting near the computer when he clocks in.

“Thought we weren’t getting another shipment until next week,” he says, sidling up next to Robin to help sort through them. She gives him a once over, taking note of the downturn of his lips and mopey look in his eyes.

“Thought you weren’t gonna be coming in today,” she replies, moving to the computer to enter a stack of the new tapes into the system. Steve pauses, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at Robin’s side profile. She pretends she can’t feel his eyes burning into her skin.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, leaning against the counter. Robin doesn’t look over, fingers flying across the keyboard.

“Figured you’d be too depressed to come in today. Isn’t today the day of the big move?” she asks, more than aware of the answer. She’d stopped by yesterday to say goodbye on her way into work. “You told them last night didn’t you? That was the plan.”

Steve clenches his jaw, trying to ignore the regret eating at his insides and the nagging that pounded his head. He doesn’t say anything, bracing himself for Robin’s response. At his silence, her fingers stop moving and she turns to look at him. She raises her eyebrows, annoyance clear on her face.

“Seriously? You let them go without saying-”

“Yes, god, Robin, it’s not a big deal, I’ll just…say it when they come home in a few months,” he tries to shrug it off, turning back to sort through the new tapes. He pretends he doesn’t notice Robin’s eyes boring into his skull. She rolls her eyes, turning back to the computer with a sigh but she doesn’t say anything else.

A silence blankets the store. The only sound comes from the keyboard as Robin types and plastic hitting plastic as Steve stacks tapes on top of each other. Steve frowns when he lifts the next VHS out of the box. It’s the newest John Hughes, one you’d made him see in theaters more than once.

The nagging from before grows louder in his head. His head is spinning as he stares at the cover, mind reeling with impulses.

“Robin, what time is it?”

She turns and grabs his arm, twisting it towards her to read the time off his watch. “8:16. Why?”

“I gotta go,” he drops the tape on the top of a pile, rounding the counter. Your flight didn’t leave until just after 10, if he left now he’d make it in time. He’d have to.

His feet carry him faster than ever to the door. He’s pure adrenaline, brisk movements that pause when he reaches the entrance to the store. He looks back to Robin, one hand ready to shove the door open.

“If Keith asks, tell him I…” he trails off. Robin looks at him with an amused glint in her eye. “Just cover for me.”

The bell rings overhead as he runs out of the store and to his car. She shakes her head, a smile on her face as she watches him peel out of the parking lot, tires squealing as he goes.

Steve has no regard for the speed limit as he drives, the only thought on his mind being you. He feels sick to his stomach with adrenaline, hyper focused on getting to you before you get on the plane to take you to New York. The airport is an hour away, maybe even less with how heavy his foot is on the gas when he merges onto the highway.

Trees whip past the windows in a blur, the small town of Hawkins disappearing into the horizon behind him as he nears bigger buildings and a busier world. The Indianapolis Airport sits on the outer edge of the city, seemingly just as crowded as he remembers it to be when he was younger.

Steve races into a parking spot, his tires braking with a screech against the asphalt. He throws the car into park and almost forgets to lock it behind him in his haste. He’s all but sprinting through the crowds of people at the airport, swerving around families and yelling apologies over his shoulder when he bumps into someone.

He practically skids to a stop in front of the list of departing flights, eyes racing over random gates and times to find yours. His chest heaves and he’s sure he looks a little manic. A twinge of anxiety eats at his stomach when he notices the time ticking away on his watch.

The place feels infinitely bigger than Steve remembers it being as a kid and he gets lost once or twice, frustration pricking the nerves under his skin. His sneakers squeak against the floor as he hustles towards your terminal and to your gate.

If he could go back and change anything, he’d have never played it so nonchalant around you. Steve would’ve kissed you breathless months ago, would’ve confessed to you the moment he fell. He wouldn’t have let you leave last night without making sure you knew.

He’s out of breath when he finally reaches your gate and his heart sinks into a deep pit in his chest when he realizes it’s empty.

Steve thinks he might be sick.

His hands press against his temples and he turns in a small circle, eyes squeezed shut. He kicks at the ground, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the linoleum.

“God dammit,” he groans, dropping his hands. He opens his eyes only to watch as the plane moves away from the gate, taking you with it. He shakes his head. “Fuck.”

He says it louder than he really anticipates, vaguely aware of the stares he gets from parents and their kids waiting in nearby gates for their flights. The inside of his chest feels hollow, a cracked shell that used to house a beating vessel.

The sound of his voice pricks your ears and you look up from where you’re sitting, eyes searching for the source of an all too familiar cadence. It doesn’t make any sense for him to be here but it doesn’t stop the anticipation that rises beneath your skin.

Your heartbeat immediately picks up speed when you catch sight of him. Steve Harrington stands at the empty gate across the way. His back is to you but you’d recognize him anywhere, his slight slouch in posture and the waves of brown hair at the back of his head. What the hell is he doing here?

“Steve?”

His head snaps up, immediately whipping around to find the source of your voice. He thinks he has to be hallucinating when he turns around and you’re standing right there. An old sweater of his hangs off your shoulders, a small bag by your feet. He wonders if it smells like a mix of his cologne and your perfume.

You have to be a mirage, a glimmer appearing out of light. The confused pinch between your brows deepens, something that couldn’t be replicated, and he stares at it, wondering how the skin there would feel against his lips if he kissed it away.

“Hey,” he breathes it out, stepping towards you until he’s a few feet away. You shake your head at him and the Family Video vest he’s still wearing, his orange name tag glinting in the fluorescent airport lighting.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, a little exasperated, your arms wrapping around yourself. He looks around at the bustling airport, catching the sign above your gate and realizing he had been looking at the wrong one all along. You hadn’t left him yet. His gaze lands back on you.

“I couldn’t let you go,” he says.

“Steve, what are you talking about?” your confusion only deepens, intermingling with a smidge of frustration.

“I was up all night thinking-”

“That’s never good,” you joke, your smile half hearted and faltering when he doesn’t even crack a smile at it.

“-about you and how you’re finally going off to college like you always wanted and how I won’t see you for months and how that makes me sick with missing you and the only thing that kept going through my head after I said goodbye to you last night was that I can’t let you go.”

“What?” there aren’t enough words to express the confusion you feel. Steve was the one who’d encouraged you to go from the beginning. He couldn’t be serious but the determined glint in his eyes tells you he was. “What are you-”

“I can’t let you get on that plane without telling you that I’m in love with you.”

His confession hangs heavy in the air between you. The air grows thick, you feel like you can’t breathe properly. You feel like the world is spinning on a new axis, faster than the plane that’s set to take you away. He takes a step closer to you.

“Steve…” your voice can barely be heard over all the noise. He shakes his head a little, eyes pleading a little with you to listen.

“I love the crease you get above your nose when you’re confused,” a step. “I love that you’re the first thing I think about whenever a new John Hughes movie comes in a new shipment,” another step. “I love that my jackets always smell like you whenever you give them back,” another step and you’re toe to toe. You look up at him, eyes gleaming with the beginnings of tears. “I love that you’re the only person I’d drop everything for just so I could speed to the airport to say one final goodbye.”

His knuckles brush against your cheek, his fingers tucking themselves beneath your jaw by your ear. You’re doe-eyed and feeling like you might fall over. Your arms fall to your sides.

“I couldn’t let you get on that plane without telling you.”

You let out a soft laugh, thick with emotion and tears. Steve brushes away one that escapes with his thumb. You shake your head but your face is beaming.

“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington,” your face softens, voice dropping. “But god, I’m so in love with you.”

He grins, dipping his head down to press his lips against yours. His other hand comes up to cradle the other side of your jaw. Your hands press against his chest before gripping at the fabric of his work vest.

Kissing Steve feels like second nature, like you should’ve been doing this all along. The world may have been put on a new axis but something has finally clicked into place. It feels like coming home.

The overhead intercom announcing boarding for your flight causes you to pull back. The lovesick look in both of your eyes turns a little sad. You swallow. “That’s me.”

He nods, hands falling away from your face and finding a home in his front pockets. You glance over your shoulder at the line formed by the counter. It’s dwindling rather fast but you waste no time in throwing your arms around Steve’s shoulders.

You hug him to you tightly, squeezing him harder when his arms wrap around your waist. You can feel the tears pricking your waterline again and you squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your face into the side of his neck. You wish there was a way to fuse your bodies together.

Steve loses track of how long you stay like that, holding on tight to each other, not wanting to let go. He’s not sure how he can let you go now, it feels so cruel the feeling that sinks deep into his bones.

How can you miss someone so intensely when they’re still being held in your arms?

The intercom announces the last call and you take one last inhale, desperate to memorize the scent of his cologne and the way it mixes with a scent that’s just him. You press a kiss to his neck, chaste and soft.

“I’m gonna miss you like crazy,” you say, arms loosening their hold as you step back. Steve smiles at you as he nods, his eyes shining with tears and everything else he wishes he could say to you.

“You’ll call me when you land?” he asks, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. You squeeze his hand and nod. He glances at the flight attendant by the entrance to the jetway who’s watching you say goodbye before kissing you one last time.

It’s more firm than before, says everything that you both can’t say and more. When you pull back, he slightly nudges you in the direction of your flight. You bend to grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder.

You hold his hand until you can’t anymore, fingers outstretched towards each other like magnets being pulled apart. Your footsteps are a hurried drag as you go to give your boarding pass to the attendant. An invisible string is being pulled taut between the two of you, willing you to stay together.

You turn to wave one last time, blowing Steve a kiss that he catches and sticks in his front pocket. Your chest aches with longing, you miss him already. He mouths an I love you that has you grinning sadly and then you turn around and walk down the jetway.

You wait until he can’t see you to wipe away the tear that slipped over the curve of your cheek. Something about falling in love like this feels cruel, sinking into the feeling right as you’re about to be worlds away.

Steve stays where you left him until your plane takes off and disappears from view. He misses you immediately, stomach twisting and heart yearning. He loves that he has someone to miss but god does he wish you took him with you.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #📝: a writes!

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luna-writes-stuff · 6 months

Text

Wasting Love, Kirk Hammett

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Angst, bittersweet pining

Word count: 4269

Tw: mention of sex, groupies, that rockstar life™ etc. You also kind of sleep around so maybe kind of OOC to you, but the whole song is about one night stands and sex that doesn’t involve feelings, so cry about it <3 For a fic about sex, it sure lacks actual sex and smut. This is just angst revolving around sex, so I’m sorry to my horny readers :( Mentions of drugs/being drugged (doesn’t happen in the story, but it gets mentioned) and use of alcohol. Swearing, Luna’s favourite swear word fuck <3

Summary: Touring with Metallica brought unnecessary talks about groupies and their nights spent together. And it shouldn’t have bothered you, had you not been head over heels for Kirk. When you see him sneaking out of an hotel room one night, you finally break.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Maybe one day I'll be an honest man. Up 'til now I'm doing the best I can.”

There were so many great things about touring with Metallica: you saw a little bit of the world, met many amazing fans, had fun company and you didn’t have to pay for much. It did come as a plus that you had known James as long as you had. He had, after all, been the one who had managed to get you to be the one to tune the guitars, basses and make sure their amplifiers were working correctly. It was a job that technically only had to be done 2 to 3 hours before the band had to go up on stage, so there was plenty of time for you to enjoy your time in a new city.

The single awful thing about travelling with Metallica: learning a lot more about their private life than you would have actually liked. It was no secret that rockstars had their local groupies, but the time spent with them would continue to baffle you. The worst part of it all were the ineffable feelings that had begun to grow towards a certain guitarist. You didn’t know if he was oblivious or did it out of spite (which would have been way worse), but each time you couldn’t come on the bus or knock on hotel doors because of… well, activities, your heart broke a little bit more.

You should have anticipated this from the start. James had kindly warned you about it, which had been an awkward conversation at first, but you truly thought you could handle it. But when they weren’t busy, they were talking about their nights, bragging about it as if you weren’t sitting right there. What hadn’t helped the situation was that James knew about your whole situation, so the usual comments he’d throw towards his band members had lessened significantly. Especially when Kirk had something to throw in.

“Long roads, long days. Of sunrise to sunset, of sunrise to sunset.”

You had been good friends with all of them for years, so they never really considered you as an outsider to their conversations. Initially, it had led to great talks, but now all they really brought was sorrow. And Kirk seemed perfectly happy in his situation, often talking about how this was so much better than a relationship, because no feelings could be hurt. After that, you could never really find it in yourself to find a move on him.

So, you let yourself get caught up in their lives too. After all, with the involvement the band gave you, many fans had laid their eyes on you as well. If they could find their joy and liberty in sex, you might as well. No feelings attached, just brief hook-ups and nights spent in other hotel rooms. You didn’t know what hurt most: the fact you found little relief in it, or the fact no one seemed bothered you had been sleeping around. When you casually mentioned it once, the band seemed to almost cheer for you, claiming it was good that you found some pleasure as well. You had hoped for that slight shift in Kirk’s posture, or a tiny twitch in his eyes, but nothing.

James hadn’t talked with you about it. He just figured you had moved on. In all honesty, he was too busy as well to properly have a conversation about emotions, actions and feelings. You didn’t want to burst his bubble.

“Dream on, brothers, while you can. Dream on, sisters, I hope you find the one.”

Thus, you continued the tour as you usually did. Some days you’d hang out with the band, other days you’d discover cities on your own. Besides your pining, you and Kirk had been close friends as well, so it wasn’t unusual for you to go to bars together or explore backstreets with just the two of you. But the longer the tour wore on, the more uncomfortable it had gotten. Ever since you had shared your experiences, it seemed to only fuel their… private talks. None showed shame in it, and none noticed that that fake laugh you had been putting up was getting weaker by the day.

You didn’t know how many weeks you had been on tour now or how many shows had been played. You didn’t even really know in which city you were, nor who was the name of the person in the bed next to you. When you had gotten changed and realised they were still sleeping, you couldn’t even tell what time it had been.

You had stumbled out of the unknown hotel room, hair messy and clothes lazily thrown on. It wasn’t as if you were going to run into anyone important during this hour. Except, it did.

By the time you rounded the corner, you found Kirk sneaking out of another room, seemingly in a similar state to what you had been in. Your heart shattered all over again at the sight, but you swallowed it down. When he noticed you, he fumbled with his pants, giving you a goofy grin and a short wave. You hadn’t even noticed you had frozen, your eyes glued on the red marks on his neck. However, you snapped out of it quickly, copying his wave before walking the other way. You couldn’t recall where your room was. You didn’t really want to find it now. Somehow, that sheer sight managed to get you more worked up than it should have.

“All of our lives, covered up quickly. By the tides of time.”

The elevator took too long to reach your floor, so you opted for the stairs after waiting for a full five seconds. All you really wanted to do right now is find a secluded space where you could just sink to the ground and cry. For a really long time.

The only logical place in your head ran to the lobby downstairs. They would have enough bathroom stalls for you to simply collapse there and have a good crying session. When you were done, you could recollect your thoughts. The idea of it sounded so nice. However, by the time you came downstairs, you were simply too exhausted to do anything else but collapse on the nearest chair and just stare blankly at the wall. It was still dark outside, the only thing illuminating the streets being the streetlights and occasional cars. You only saw them from the corner of your eyes, your head still straight towards the empty green wall in front of you.

You could have sat there for hours, and you wouldn’t have known. It probably wasn’t. When you were done staring, you spotted a clock, seeing the pointers on two and six. You didn’t reach the hotel until one, so you couldn’t have sat there for hours. It felt like it, though.

You didn’t want to move. Not really. You just felt incredibly numb now. You should have just mentioned everything at the beginning. You shouldn’t have been such a pussy and should have made a move years ago. You shouldn’t have joined this tour. You could have known this going into it. It was a mistake. This was terrible.

“Spend your days full of emptiness. Spend your years full of loneliness.”

In a fit of frustration, you throw the heels in your hands across the room, sick and tired of holding them the entire time. You watched as they bounced on the floor, before coming to halt in an almost cinematic shot. When they stilled, your hands balled up into fists. These heels were gorgeous to look at. You remembered picking them out this night. They went perfect with your outfit and simply looked stunning. You remembered the reason why you had put them on: you were going to a bar with the band. And you looked breathtaking. These were the heels that seemed to ooze sex and ask for attention. Of course these had to be the heels you had worn for him. He had told you how much he loved them when starting the tour. When unpacking your wardrobe, he had casually wandered in and went through your shoes, and these were the ones special enough for him to mention. You had worn them for him. And he left with some chick, leaving you wallowing in self pity in the bed of a stranger.

Fuck those heels.

You couldn’t even properly formulate why it had devastated you as much as it had. He didn’t seem interested in you, so you began to pick up on his lifestyle. You hadn’t even done it in an effort to make him jealous or glue his eyes to you - no; you simply needed the distraction from him. And you were so convinced you were going to find it in the bed of another, but you didn’t.

All his stupid fault. No one told him he had to be so damn desirable and kind. In all truth, you were convinced he couldn’t even see how much it bothered you. You couldn’t tell if that made him a bad friend, or you a bad friend. Probably both. All you knew was that, if it wasn’t for him, you’d be perfectly happy where you were.

“Wasting love, in a desperate caress. Rolling shadows of nights.”

The longer you remained stuck on your own thoughts, the harder it became to suppress the huge lump in your throat. The urge to cry resurfaced, and you could have cursed yourself for getting so wound up for some guy.

The tears had already gathered in your eyes as you scanned the room, looking for anyone nearby. When you couldn’t find them, the first drop fell down. Resting your elbows on your knees, you leaned forward, sobbing into your hands, repeatedly muttering the word ‘stupid’.

All you really felt now was just anguish, pain, anger and embarrassment. A silent longing for home filled you as you mourned the comfort of your own bed, and the hugs of those you couldn’t take on tour with you. You could use a hug from anyone who had nothing to do with Metallica.

But fate wouldn’t have you sit there weeping on your own. During the tour, you had felt truly secluded when you needed company, but the one moment you simply wished to be alone, you wouldn’t be.

“Dream on, brothers, while you can. Dream on, sisters, I hope you find the one.”

You hadn’t heard him walking down the stairs nor had you heard the sound of the elevator, but you could feel his presence suddenly beside you. And his stupid cologne. That damn thing never seemed to wear off.

You looked up at him in a mixture of annoyance and sadness, holding your hands flat out, not trusting your voice to speak for you. His face softened as he noticed your tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, kneeling down to come eye level with you. The gesture made your heart flutter, even when you least wanted him to be there.

“What are you doing here?” He asked confused, though his voice was gentle all the same. You snorted unflatteringly, simply not caring for his opinion now. “Couldn’t find my room.” You shrugged, wiping stray tears off your face. Then, your eyes fell on your knees, refusing to meet his eyes.

Kirk was silent for a while, one of his hands resting on your thighs, the notion nearly lighting your skin on fire. “You okay?” He questioned, rubbing the skin soothingly. Successfully catching your attention, your eyes met his once more. When you didn’t answer him, he frowned, now looking at your face as if he was searching: “Did he drug you or something?”

Curse him to be concerned when you just wanted to shout at him. You didn’t have the energy to do it, though. He just needed to leave you alone. “No. I’m fine.” You answered, hoping it was enough to get him to leave.

It wasn’t.

“All of our lives, covered up quickly. By the tides of time.”

“You sure?” He went on, his hand leaving your thigh; a touch you didn’t know you would miss so soon. He forced a small smile, trying to lighten the situation: “I don’t know about you, but I usually don’t cry after sex.”

Yes, well, it didn’t lighten everything. It made it worse. The remark came as a dull stab in the heart to you, and you couldn’t suppress the hidden mumble under your breath. “Yeah, you wouldn’t.”

Thankfully, he didn’t catch that. And if he did, he didn’t respond to it. “I’m not drugged,” You assured him. “And I’m not drunk.” “You did drink a lot.” Kirk countered, though the humour had vanished from his face when you didn’t laugh at his remark. You’d always laugh at his words, even if they weren’t that funny. His words didn’t try to make fun of the situation anymore. It was genuine worry now.

“Trust me, it wore off.” You dismissed, running a hand through your hair as you forced yourself to sit upright. Kirk stood up as you did so, holding his hand out in front of him, ready to catch you if you were to fall. When you didn’t, he looked around before looking back at you: “I’m gonna get you something to drink,” Then, he pointed to your seat. “Stay here.”

He took off to the nearest vending machine, fishing for some loose change in his barely buttoned up pants. “Kirk, I’m fine.” You called after him, but he waved his hand in a dismissive manner, now typing in a number. You simply watched him do so, your face set in a scowl as you whispered a hushed ‘fuck you’.

“Sands are flowing and the lines are in your hand. In your eyes I see the hunger, and the desperate cry that tears the night.”

He returned with a bottle of water, handing it you as you begrudgingly opened it and began to drink. “You have room 403,” Kirk’s voice called as he sat down next to you. “You’re next to James, who has 405, and opposite of me: 402.” You just hummed at him, no longer interested to hold another conversation with him. You just wanted to curl up in a warm bed that wasn’t shared with anyone.

“That bad of a night, huh?” He commented as you gave him the half-finished bottle. “It’s not funny.” You deadpanned, doing your best to keep your breathing steady as you stood up. Again, Kirk tried to loosen the tension, though unsuccessfully: “Trust me, I know.” He stood up with you, his eyes still on your figure. You gave him a slight side-eye, shaking your head: “Yeah, I don’t think you do.”

Unsure of what to answer to that, he simply decided to follow you to the elevator. You didn’t speak to him during the short walk through the hall. You always talked with him. Any moment you could, really. It’s why he liked hanging around you so much. Even as you halted in front of the elevator doors, you said nothing.

“Are you alright?” Kirk tried again. “Like, really?” Inhaling sharply, you forced the newly formed tears back, the question cutting you so deeply, you had to do your best to not fall apart right there and right then. “Absolutely not.” You answered honestly, giving him a sarcastic grin before glueing your eyes on the pending floors above the elevator doors. Floor seven. It would take some time before it would get to the lobby.

Again, his hand found your skin, now softly settling on your shoulder. You now noticed he had carried your heels in his other hand, the shoes dangling from them in some sort of sick poetic way. “You know you can talk to me, right?” He went on, new words that pierced through you. But, once more, you forced yourself to keep it together, instead widening your eyes slightly as you spoke mocking words to yourself, aloud: “Oh, that couldn’t be further from the truth.” “That’s bullshit,” Kirk countered. “You can tell me anything.”

Turning around sharply, you pointed your finger at him, the gesture causing his grip to falter on you: “I don’t have to tell you jack shit.” Holding his hands up in defense, his eyebrows furrowed together. “What did I do?” “Nothing,” You replied quickly, unable to resist the slight choke in your voice as a stray tear slipped down your cheek. “You did absolutely nothing. You’re so fucking perfect, how could you ever do something wrong?”

“Spend your days full of emptiness. Spend your years full of loneliness.”

The furrow in his eyebrows left, now slightly raised in concern:“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” A painful smile etched upon your face at that, speaking a little inside prayer of relief as the elevator doors finally opened. “Fuck you, Hammett.” You muttered, stepping into the cabin, reaching for the ‘close doors’ button. When they began to slide, Kirk’s hand quickly shot between them, forcing the doors back open: “No, wait.”

You tried your best to ignore him, a pounding headache already forming in agony. “Hey,” He spoke gently. “At least let me walk you to your room. I’m going that way, anyway.” “No offense, but I’d rather be alone now.” You denied, furiously rubbing the tear from your face. At the notion, you could see his expression change slightly. You didn’t want him to feel sorry feel you, but something in his eyes simply made you melt on the spot. “I don’t think that is a great idea.” He offered, holding out his hand again to stall the elevator. Now, annoyance came back into your system.

“Smell my breath, Kirk,” You spoke angrily, blowing breath his way. “There is no more liquor on my tongue. In fact, there are all kinds of things on my tongue now that I couldn’t even taste any alcohol even if I were to throw up. Some trust would look great on you.” “I trust you,” He persuaded, ignoring your innuendo as he stepped into the elevator. “Drunk or not, if you collapse onto the floor for whatever reason, I don’t like to leave you there.”

You crossed your arms at his words, slightly moved by it, but not enough to let all that anguish fade. “How romantic.” You mumbled sarcastically, watching him punch in the number to your floor. Maybe it was for the best he was so adamant on joining you. You didn’t know what floor your room was on.

“Wasting love, in a desperate caress. Rolling shadows of nights.”

Floor eleven. Your room was on floor eleven. The silence was deafening. You didn’t know what you preferred: his constant worrying or the space you were in right now. It was on floor three when you couldn’t handle it anymore.

Without any warning, a choked sob escaped you as new tears escaped your eyes. God, you hated being in the same elevator as him after finding him in the situation he was in only minutes ago. He was the one who could cheer you up, but at the moment, he was doing nothing but ruining you and he didn’t even know it.

Alerted by your sudden sobbing, he turned to face you. “Hey, it’s okay.” He tried to soothe, walking up to you as he pulled you into his arms. The action was enough to cause you to break down even more. It simply felt so right - so comfortable. “No, it’s not,” You wept into his shirt. “I don’t think it will be.” His hands found your back, rubbing soothing patterns onto it. You hated all of it. You hated how much you longed for it.

“You're worrying me now,” He spoke, his head resting atop yours as you gripped onto his shirt tightly. His heart had begun to sink as his head started to assume the worst case scenarios. What could have possibly happened that had shaken you up this much? There were enough things he could think of and none of them were pleasant. “What’s going on with you?”

“Spend your days full of emptiness. Spend your years full of loneliness.”

You tried to calm yourself down, forcing you out of his hold as you stared at the ceiling, sniffling desperately. “Sleeping around is awful.” You confessed, a heavy sigh escaping your throat at the words, your eyes casting back down in front of you. Kirk hummed at your words, nodding in understanding: “Sometimes.” “No; all of the time,” You protested, rubbing your hands over your arms in anxiety. “It feels good for five seconds, if I even get that, and then it’s just humiliation and embarrassment.”

He didn’t know what to say about that. Sure, he has had terrible experiences, but he would be lying if he said he hated all of them. “I’m sorry,” He offered, feeling genuine remorse for you. You knew it was genuine. You knew him good enough to know when he was lying or not. And even though he was the main cause for your sadness, he was also one of your closest friends. And you needed someone to talk to: “I just want the distraction.”

You didn’t look at him as you said that, but you could feel his gaze change into that of remorse. The way he had looked at you earlier was in worry. Now, he just felt sorry for you. Both of them were appreciated. And they both amplified your emotions.

“I want to go home,” You finally sighed as the elevator reached the eleventh floor. “I can’t do this.” Stepping out of the cabin, you could hear Kirk halting for a second before he followed you. From here, it was easy to read the numbers. 388. 390. 392. You knew your room was close.

“Wasting love, in a desperate caress. Rolling shadows of nights.”

“Are you sure?” Kirk asked, his voice more quiet than it had been earlier. You didn’t know what to make of it. “No,” You answered honestly, grabbing the blank key card from your pocket as you reached door 403. “But the last past days have just been getting worse and worse, and I don’t think I can-“ Your voice hitched as you forced the sob down, now opening your door. You wanted to tell him. You needed to tell him. Even if he would hate it. And you were too caught up in your sadness to think straight now: “I don’t think I can spend another day watching you bang some chick and pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

Moments of silence passed as you almost watched Kirk shut down. He didn’t move, he didn’t say anything. His expression didn’t change. There was nothing in his features that could make you decipher any sort of reaction to what you had just said. And it broke your heart into a million little pieces.

Grabbing your heels from his absent hands, you threw it in your hall, your expression softening: “It’s not your fault, Kirk,” You tried to reassure. “You’re famous, enjoy it. I hope you find someone some day.”

But, once more, there was nothing you could see on him that made loose any sort of reaction. You just nodded at him, a sorrowful smile forcing its way up: “We never had this conversation. Ignore me for all I care. I’m going home tomorrow.” And with that, you closed the door, leaving him out there. The second the securing of the lock was heard, you threw your head against the wall. In any scenario you had imagined yourself confessing to him, you would have never expected him to freeze. And somehow, that was the worst reaction.

“Spend your days full of emptiness. Spend your years full of loneliness.”

Emotionlessly, you sauntered to the bed in the middle of the room, throwing your body onto it, no longer finding any energy to change or even just get your clothes off. Everything felt heavy. Your eyes were glued to the lights outside, unable to do anything but simply stare.

A hesitant knock brought you back to reality, followed by a muffled voice: “Don’t go tomorrow.” You didn’t have anything left in you that told you to cry at his voice. Perhaps that was for the best. Swallowing thickly, you filled the silence in the room: “Why?” Another beat of silence. This one longer than the previous one. “I’ll miss you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to convince yourself that leaving was definitely for the best. It was. “You can always call me.” You proposed weakly. You were so tired. So tired, yet not tired enough to sleep. Staring would have to do. “Would you answer?” You didn’t respond to that.

“Please, stay.” Once more, you didn’t answer. You couldn’t. It was almost as if your voice had simply failed on you. All you could really do was stare.“Just for one more day.”

When he realised he wasn’t getting an answer, he nodded, even though you couldn’t see his face. “Okay,” He tried to understand. Then, he grabbed the second key card to his room, leaning down to slide it under the door. You could hear the shuffling, and through the neon lights from outside, you could see the key card making its way into your hall. “In case you want to talk.” He offered. Another beat of silence, followed by a sigh you could hear from your bed.

“Goodnight.”

“Wasting love, in a desperate caress. Rolling shadows of nights.”

#November writings 2023 #Metallica #Kirk Hammett #kirk hammett x reader #James hetfield

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persephone-writes2 · 7 months

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On the Streets of Coruscant

Padawan! Obi-Wan x Fem!reader

Part Two (posted on my new account)

Description: The reader meets the dashingly handsome Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi at a club, deciding to take him to see the sights of Coruscant.

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings & tags: slight swearing (i refuse to use canon swear words), drinking, kissing, lots of fluff, pre phantom menace, everyone is an adult in this! me making up star wars names (this shit is hard!), bittersweet ending, saying “chuckled” too much

Notes: This is the second fic I've ever posted, and its been YEARS. Its also the first time I've written Obi-Wan, so sorry if this is awful! I would appreciate any constructive criticism and reactions <3 Also, this was inspired by these bts pics of Ewan cause ughghghg!!

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The streets of Coruscant were always buzzing, day or night, and whatever the weather. The only refuge one could find from its constant commotion was indoors, preferably on the upper levels, where the noise could be drowned out and the shades could be drawn. While not on the lowest level, Y/N had no such luxury, having to deal with the hustle and bustle no matter what she did. However, it was a small price to pay for leaving Corellia, which was beautiful, yet boring. It wasn't her fault that some of the best schools in the galaxy were located on Coruscant, or that their clubs were so good.

It was Zhellday, which meant Y/N had once again found herself in her and her friends usual club, which one of their fathers owned. It was the best mid-level bar in the region, and they got to drink for cheap, so they rarely went anywhere else. They sat around one of the many small seating areas away from the dance floor, nursing some early drinks and gazing around at the crowd. Ya'sami, a twi'lek who had come to Coruscant for the same reason as Y/N, quickly downed their drink, smiling at the group.

"Someone dance with me," they said, looking around at the group.

Ripp shook his head. "I'm not drunk enough." They all knew you had to get Ripp good and drunk if he was going to dance.

"Alright," Y/N said in an exaggeratedly annoyed tone, "If you insist."

"Finally!" Ya'sami laughed, "Its what we come for, is it not?"

Laughing, Ya'sami took Y/N's hand and led them to the dance floor. The music was annoyingly loud, but neither noticed, forgetting their loads of schoolwork and impending due-dates in favor of the drumming boom of sound. The music was different on Coruscant than it was on Corellia. While Corellia wasn’t known for its soft melody’s or brooding lyrics, Coruscant’s made it seem so. On Coruscant, music was meant for partying, and Y/N took it up on its enticing offer.

After a while, Y/N grew parched, and yelled to Ya'sami over the noise, "I'm going to the bar!" Ya'sami kept on dancing, now in their own little groove.

Y/N pushed through the thick crowd, bumping elbows but trying her best to be polite. She muscled her way to the front, finding a small empty space along the surface of the bar. She rested her elbows against it, waiting for the bartender, who knew her well, to come over. It would take a while, since it was peak hours on a Zhellday, but she didn't mind. It was nice to cool off, as she could feel her arms growing sticky with the heat of all the bodies pressed into one room.

The bartender came up to give the man beside her his drink, throwing her an apologetic look. "Sorry Y/N, I'm swamped, I'll be there in a minute."

"No problem," she said, smiling.

Just as the space opened up next to her, another came to take his place. She felt something rough brush against her arm, and glancing over, she caught a look at the unfairly attractive man next to her. She looked away quickly, smiling sheepishly to herself. Even as an adult, Y/N always felt like a schoolgirl around attractive people. Trying to act inconspicuous, she dared another glance. His hair was a reddish brown, cropped short and spiky around his face. His nose was straight and his brow was strong. As the colored lights danced against his face, she noticed a small dimple on his chin. Stars, was he cute. Furrowing her brows, Y/N first thought it strange to wear such an outfit at a club of all places. His robes were plain and loose upon his chest, his deep brown cloak draped over his shoulders and billowing down to the floor. Then, the realization hit her as her eyes honed in on the small braid cascading down his left shoulder.

Y/N looked away quickly, head reeling. She knew little about the Jedi, only what her friend from Coruscant had told her. "Very secretive," Ripp had said, "All any normal person really knows about them is their 'force' or whatever it is, and their light sabers. And, once when I was a kid, I heard one got kicked out because he was seeing a woman on the outside."

And, Y/N had found out one way or another, before they were Jedi Masters, they wore a long braid on the side of their head.

Nothing Y/N knew about them said they couldn't go to clubs on their nights off, or did they even get a night off? Even if they technically could, Y/N had never seen one casually grabbing a drink anywhere, or even heard about it. It seemed like something people would gossip about.

The bartender came wizzing around the corner. The man, or rather Jedi, beside Y/N stuck his hand out as he passed.

"I'm looking for someone named-" he began in a strong Coruscanti accent. The bartender only glanced his way.

"Sorry kid, I'm a little busy," he said before quickly walking away, carrying far too many drinks.

The Jedi huffed, hanging his head for a moment before looking back at the sea of people. Before Y/N even knew what she was doing, she turned to the handsome stranger.

"I might know who you're looking for."

He turned to her, eyes blue and bright, and she nearly gasped. Stars, she kept saying over and over in her head, stars, stars, stars.

He raised his eye brows at her, looking around for moment before turning back to her gaze. Her eyes bounced around, fearing he may be able to tell she fancied him just by looking at her.

"You might?" he asked, clearly surprised, though Y/N didn't know what exactly for. Was he shocked that she was listening to him, or that some random club-goer dared to speak to him, a Jedi-in-training. She couldn't think about it for too long, as he was waiting for an answer.

"Y-yeah," she stuttered, "I come here a lot, and my friends father owns the place."

He nodded, giving her a small smile, making her nerves build even more than they had before. She wasn't sure if it was because he was so handsome, or the fact that she knew he had a light saber stashed under his robes and lived in the big temple on the upper level.

"I'm looking for a Mirialan named Craz. He's said to spend some time here." He looked at her sternly, yet with a clam air about him. Y/N had expected him to be arrogant, someone of such importance. However, she had the feeling he was not at all, despite the authority he could so easily command. Although he was on the job, or so she assumed, he posture was relaxed and easy like his robes.

She shook her head, feeling guilty or taking up his time when she had no answers. He only looked slightly disappointed, a crease forming between his brows.

As he went to speak, Y/N interrupted, again without thinking. The thought of him leaving, without learning even so much as his name, made her want to prolong it as long as she could. She told herself it was curiosity, rather than hopeless attraction.

"My friends might know, though! Most of them have been living here longer than I have."

His eyes turned upwards in thought before he glanced around. He shrugged, smiling once again. "Thank you," he said, letting Y/N lead the way from the bar.

She could feel him following behind her, so close yet never touching. Weaving through the crowd, she looked back once to see if he was still there or had been lost amongst the people. He was, catching her looking and staring straight into her eyes. While he was not smiling, he seemed somewhat amused at her guilty glance. She realized it was foolish to think he, a Jedi, might have lost his way.

They made their way to her friends, most of which were still sitting at the spot where she left them. While a few had gone to dance, Ripp, whos father was the owner, was thankfully still there. If anyone would know who the man was, it would be him.

"Guys," she said, the man standing beside her, "this is..." She faltered.

"Obi-Wan," he said.

Ripp's eye went wide, and Y/N could feel her face heat up already. She should have known they'd freak out at the sight of her bringing along a Jedi.

Dani, who was sitting beside Ripp, began to giggle. Y/N rolled her eyes, knowing it was he was handsome.

"What brings a gentleman such as yourself into a place like this?" Ripp joked. Dani bit her lip, making Y/N want to crawl inside of herself. Obi-Wan either didn't notice Dani's shameless display or chose not to react. Rather, he chuckled at Ripp's joke.

"I am looking for a Mirilalan, Craz. I was told you may know where he is."

"Oh, I know Craz," Ripp answered, leaning back into the couch, "My father had to throw him out of here a few months ago and told him never to come back."

Obi-Wan put a hand on his chin in thought. "Do you know where he might be these days?"

Ripp shook his head, "No clue, sorry."

Obi-Wan huffed, placing a hand on his hip. In doing so, he revealed his light saber hanging from the leather belt along his waist. Y/N had never seen one up close, only catching glimpses on the holo. It's impressiveness did not escape her, nor did its elegance. For a moment she wondered if he would let her see it closer if she asked, though she promptly pushed this thought from her mind. Not only would it be rude, but she felt as if outside eyes on such a weapon could somehow tarnish its great power.

Besides the deadly force hanging from his belt, Obi-Wan appeared the more normal he had all night. His stance was even more relaxed than it had been before, as if he was just another club-goer waiting on a drink.

After a moment of thought, Obi-Wan spoke again, "Thank you for your help, and I apologize for taking so much of your time."

Y/N nearly laughed, for he had not taken more than a minute. She wondered if all Jedi were so polite. As he turned to leave, Ripp called after him, not hiding his excitement, "Nice meeting you, Obi-Wan!"

Obi-Wan turned and smirked, offering a courteous, "Likewise." before walking away.

As he disappeared into the crowd, Dani stared dreamily into the distance. "Ya'sami's going to be so mad when she hears about this! Stars, are all Jedi that cute?"

"He can probably still hear you," Ripp joked, making Dani go pink.

For the third time that evening, Y/N acted without thinking, all due to the handsome Jedi. Without responding to her friends, she turned and followed after Obi-Wan, trying to reach him in the crowd. He was hard to spot, but she caught him skirting around the dance floor, robe flowing behind. As she neared him, she shouted his name. He turned, not looking all that surprised. Perhaps he sensed me coming.

"Yes?" he asked, accent smooth and level, even through all the noise.

She hadn't thought of what she was going to say, and her heart began racing, threatening to burst from her chest. She had never acted on so many impulses in one night before, usually allowing herself a single bad decision and refraining from the rest. The common culprits were almost always benign, such as one too many drinks or dancing too close to a handsy guy. Never had she been so forward with someone who she knew, deep down, would never fall for her advances.

"I-I," she stuttered. Maker, get yourself together. "I feel bad, for not helping you more, taking up your time."

He did not laugh, but looked at her with a soft pity. "It's quite alright. Your friend provided me with important information. I will search elsewhere."

Elsewhere, not here, not with me.

"Well, let me at least buy you a drink," she offered, smiling. Seeing his reservations, she offered another excuse, "I get them half off anyway."

He thought for a moment, tilting his head slightly before meeting her eyes. Could Jedi even drink?

“Come on,” she pleaded, growing a bit desperate. Embarrassed by her own words, she attempted to backpedal a bit, “one for the road.”

"Alright, if you insist," he answered, looking towards the bar. They found a spot to wait, Obi-Wan resting an elbow against it and peering out across the room. Y/N angled towards him slightly, though kept a polite distance.

"I'm Y/N," she said, holding out her hand.

He took it, handshake far softer than she expected. She felt a spark run up her arm.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Y/N".

She loved the way her name sounded on his lips. She never was one to swoon over the Coruscanti accent, as she had run across many travelers with it on Corellia. There was just something about his voice, subtle but strong, serious on the edge of jest.

"Are you allowed to tell me what this Craz has done to warrant your search?" Y/N was half joking and half curious, especially since learning that Ripps father had thrown him out not too long ago.

"He's an important member of a crime syndicate that runs out of the lower levels, but they've been making their way up the city for some time now."

"Maker, I didn't know we got those kinds of characters in here." She truly was shocked, for she had only seen a few fights break out here, and never with blasters.

"You usually don't. It's easier to keep it contained if they don't spread levels, which is why I'm here."

The bartender interrupted them, looking a bit dazed due to his consent running around.

"Y/N," he said, and then looking towards Obi-Wan, "Sorry about before, Kid. What do you need?"

Obi-Wan replied before Y/N had the chance, "It's all taken care of."

The bartender looked pleased to not have to answer any questions on such a busy night. "So, what can I get you?"

"I'll have a phattro," Y/N began, "And you'll have.." she said, looking towards Obi-Wan.

"A corellian," he said, glancing towards her with a thankful nod.

"A phattro and a corellian," the bartender repeated before walking away to make the drinks.

Y/N smiled towards Obi-Wan. "A corellian," she said slyly. Obi-Wan gave her an amused look. "Thats where I'm from."

"A planet rich with history," he offered, for the first time seemingly genuinely intrigued.

"Yes, and a stagnant present," she chuckled dryly, "have you ever been there?"

He shook his head. "I have not had the pleasure."

"I'd say it is more of a pleasure that you haven't been there. It's excitements pale in comparison to Coruscant, unless you enjoy working long hours on ships."

For the first time, he fully laughed, rather than a reserved chuckle. His eyes shined in the lights, forcing Y/N to look away before her knees gave out.

"I'm not much for flying," said Obi-Wan, still looking at her, "My strong suits lay elsewhere."

"And where may that be?" She leaned in a bit closer to him, for a moment forgetting he was not just a man she met at the bar who happened to catch her eye. He did not move away or look displeased. In fact, he appeared amused.

"Conversation," he answered simply.

The bartender came over with their drinks.

“Put it on my tab,” she said to the bartender, who nodded and walked off.

Y/N watched as Obi-Wan took a sip of his, emptying half of the small glass.

"Then I shall test your abilities," she said, smirking as she lead him away from the bar and into the crowd. They stood amongst the others for a moment, now closer than they had been to each other all night. Once again, his cloak pressed against her shoulder, though she now felt his arm beneath it. She tried to hide her childish joy at the barely-there connection, taking a sip of her drink.

It was a bit louder now that they moved farther into the thick of things. Obi-Wan was forced to lean closer to her ear as he spoke, "Did you come to Coruscant only for the excitements?"

She couldn't help but laugh, "No, I go to the university. The night life is only a bonus."

"What are your studies in?" he asked, surprising Y/N for the umptenth time. She hadn't expected him to be interested in her life.

"Intergalatic relations. I hope to work for senatorial office one day."

He smiled brightly. Stars, he had a lovely smile.

"An honorable profession."

She could feel his eyes on her as he spoke, swearing she could catch him daring a look at her outfit, which was far more flashy than she would wear in her day-to-day life. Rather than feeling embarrassed, she thanked herself for putting so much thought in her partying appearance, which Ya'sami had said was totally smokin'. At the time she had brushed it off, laughing, though now she realized Ya'sami may have been right.

"Not as honorable as yours," she chuckled nervously. It was the first time either of them had hinted at him being a Jedi, and she soon feared that it would scare him away. While he did not seem to be easily frightened, rather on the contrary, she did not know if he was bending any rules to have a drink with her.

He looked away, seeming to remember his place for a moment. To Y/N's delight, he turned back quickly.

"We all have our place," he offered, "Without the senatorial office, who knows what would have become of me."

Boldly, Y/N began to push the boundaries of whatever this was. "I'm sure you would've done great things either way. I can't imagine you back home in the shipyards."

"Without the Corellian shipyards, where would the senate procure their greatest ships?" His question came off not as defensive, or even as if he was trying to steer the conversation away from himself. Rather, Y/N had the feeling she had genuinely engaged him in an interesting topic of conversation. She tried not to let her chest swell with a strange sort of pride.

"I have to say, your respect for my home world surprises me, especially due to their exceedingly cold attitude towards the Senate."

He laughed, making Y/N wonder how she could make him do it again. She wanted to listen to him laugh all night.

"I am starting to see why you left."

"Perhaps you are coddled by the comforts of Coruscant. Though I'd think that you've traveled to your fair share of systems." She took a sip of her drink, watching him from the corner of her eye. A pink light shined against the back of his head, highlighting his spiky hair.

"It's one of the perks," he said before finishing the rest of his drink. Fuck, he'll probably leave now.

Thankfully, he kept talking, "Though you often do not get the chance to sight-see."

"What a shame." She sincerely felt sorry for Obi-Wan, realizing that he likely didn't get out much. Perhaps thats why he allowed her to buy him a drink, why he so thoughtfully indulged her wishes to entertain him, even for a few minutes.

As she thought on this more, she pondered the possibility that he had never been taken around Coruscant, shown the touristy landmarks that everyone visits when they first arrive. Likely he had been all around the city, though it was probably for work with the inability to stop and take it all in. All at once, she had the ludicrous, irresponsible idea of taking his hand and dragging him around to all the sights that enthrall the thousands of tourists that flood the streets everyday.

"I assume you've seen the sights of Coruscant?" she asked shyly, internally pleading that he would say no.

He shook his head and she forced herself to not jump for joy. "Only in passing, though I know my way around the lower levels quite well. But I do not think that is what you meant," he chuckled.

All too eagerly, she spoke in excitement, "Well, how much time do you have?"

He sighed, looking weary. She could tell he was going over the time in his head, thinking about going along with her across the city, and about whoever was waiting for him back at the temple.

"I really shouldn't..." he said, mostly to himself. A smile began to form at the corner of his mouth.

"Come on," she pried, grinning up at him, "It'll only take a little while. Just call it a much needed break." In an act of flirtatious desperation, she held out her hand for him to take. Looking down at it, then up to her, he placed his hand in hers, smiling.

She quickly began leading, or rather pulling him towards the exit of the club. As they passed a small table, they each half hazzardly placed their drink down. For a moment she remembered she was here with friends, who were likely wondering where she was, though she hadn't the mind to care. Caught up in the temptation of spending the evening with Obi-Wan, with whom she had grown more and more enthralled with, Y/N giddily pushed the heavy doors to walk out into the cool city night. Now outside, the music was muffled, yet the bass was still heavy in the air. Despite the crisp temperature, Y/N's body was still warm with the heat of the club, and with the feeling of Obi-Wan's hand clasped in hers. She turned back to look at him, who was a bit more collected than herself, but still more carefree than he had been in the club. Perhaps he wasn’t used to suck loud music, or being surrounded by drunk patrons looking to dance. Slowly and to her glee, she could tell he was forgetting the original purpose of his visit.

"So, do you have a preference to where we got first, or I shall I choose?" she asked.

Obi-Wan answered quickly, "You choose."

"To the Plaza then," she said, beginning to walk down the crowded street. Hands still in one anothers, she lead Obi-Wan down the enclosed street towards an opening to the roadway. They each looked out across the wide space filled with cruisers and neon lights on the side of the skyscrapers. Billboards flashed bright images which reflected upon the fast moving cruises, pictures clear against the long transports. Openings in the platforms above revealed the deep black of the night sky, which did not shine with stars.

"Its the one thing I miss about Corellia," she began, staring up at the sky, "The stars."

Obi-Wan looked up and then back at her, though she did not notice, too busy imagining what night looked like on Corellia.

"I remember the first time I saw them," he said with a sigh. Y/N turned towards him, gently holding his hand a bit tighter. "It was on Noe'ha'on. Before then I had only seen them in ships, or briefly on the holo."

For the second time, Y/N felt sorry for Obi-Wan. She almost made herself laugh at the thought of feeling sorry for a Jedi.

He began again, "It was if I was seeing them for the first time. I could not imagine anything in the galaxy more beautiful."

They were staring at each other now, and Y/N felt her heart begin beating faster. She wished he was talking about her and not to her. For an instant, she thought about saying no, you're the most beautiful thing in the galaxy. Then, fear struck her. Could he hear what she was thinking?

"You must see them a lot now, going place to place."

"Yes, but they deserve a moment of peace which does not often find itself on missions.” He seemed to grow lost in thought, and Y/N enjoyed simply watching him think for a moment.

"When I was a little girl,” she said, breaking the silence, “I would sit and look at them for hours. In the winter, if you were lucky, sometimes you could catch aurora borealis." She began to think about showing Obi-Wan the show of lights that would grace the Corellian skies.

He smiled at her words. "I have seen that too, though only once. That was long ago."

"Its too bad I can't show you that tonight," she said with a sad smile, "though I will keep my promise and show you what the travelers come for!" Her excitement returned, and she turned to hail a taxi. One came wizzing by and to an abrupt stop in front of them. The door slid open, and Y/N was forced to let go of Obi-Wan's hand. She mourned the loss of his touch, which she did not expect she would receive again. The excuse to take his hand was all but gone, so she settle for sitting next to him.

The droid asked them their destination, with Y/N answering in the calmest manner she could muster. She thought it wise to hide her elation at his company, attempting to present an air of coolness that would likely fail. Obi-Wan had not yet recoiled fully at her advances of friendship, which she was thankful for.

Y/N looked out the window of the taxi, watching as it climbed through the air towards the upper levels. She had been on Coruscant for a year now, but the foreign beauty of the city was not yet lost on her. Obi-Wan watched her expression of wonder at the sights, which she was meant to be showing him. He chuckled at her childlike enrapture, making her turn to him with a confused look.

"Are you making fun of me?" she asked in amusement. He seemed a bit horrified at the thought of offending her.

"Oh, no, I-"

She cut him off with laughter., “I'm only teasing."

He visibly relaxed at her words, his smiling returning.

"I still can't get over the sight of the city at night," she explained, "I lived a ways off from any city on Corellia. I'm not entirely used to it yet, though I'm not sure I want to be."

"Wonder is a great gift," his voice was tender, much softer than before, "most loose it as they grow."

Her chest warmed at his words, feeling fuzzy. She had never met anyone like Obi-Wan, and not just because he was a Jedi. His poise came off not as a cockiness, but rather comfortably dignified. She did not get the impression that he thought her below him, even though she met him as he was on some important work and she was blowing off steam at a club. They way he took her hand so easily, the way he allowed her to take him away in a taxi, and the way in which he complimented a trait of hers she often felt insecure about; her ceaseless wonder at the world around her, made her feel as though she could tell him anything. She fought the urge to tell him just that, that she felt as though she could tell him anything. Don't scare him away.

"You're very kind," she said instead, feeling as if it was somewhat comparable to her true thoughts.

He smiled softly. Y/N reasoned that he smiled at everyone that way.

"Kindness is also a virtue, though I do not lie. It would do many good if they had a bit more wonder left in them." He seemed serious, and under any other circumstance, Y/N would have expected him to reach out and touch her. Stars, did she want him to, though she knew he would not.

"They say it's a Corellian thing, we've always got an itch."

He pondered her words before speaking. Y/N noted that he always spoke carefully and with purpose.

"Can you truly assign a trait to an entire planet?" he asked with a chuckle.

She knew she wasn't meant to answer, but she shrugged anyhow, deciding to tease him. "Lets see. Where are you from?"

"Well, I'd normally say I was from Coruscant, though I was not born here. I was born on Stewjon." She sensed something stir within him. Perhaps she should not have asked where he was from. Y/N did not know how the Jedi got to the temple, if their parents were also Jedi who lived in the temple, or if they were normal people. Her understanding of the force of elementary at best, having no clue if it was hereditary or something which just occurred. All she knew was Ripp's words, I heard one got kicked out because he was seeing a woman on the outside. Did they mean they could date on the inside, or not at all? Either way, she knew she had little to no chance of catching his eye.

Before she was fully caught up in her thoughts, she folded, "Hm, you've seemed to beat me. I know almost nothing about Stewjon."

He smirked, looking quite proud of himself, though Y/N knew it was just an act.

"I thought you said you were a intergalatic relations student?" he taunted. She flashed him a glare, though a smile played on her lips.

"It's impossible to know things about every system. Though, if you'd like to test me, ask me about someplace else." An impish glimmer shined in her eyes.

Obi-Wan thought for a moment, placing a hand on his chin.

"Hm, what about Kerev Doi?"

"Kerev Doi," she repeated slowly, searching her mind, "Located along the Nanth'ri Trade Route, it is home to Bodach'i. It's economy is mainly dependent on its spice mining, though it is aided by the various crime syndicates which have their hands in a variety of different enterprises across the planet, which I am sure you must be well aware of," she answered proudly, holding her head up high, "Would you like more?"

He raised his brows, chuckling at her manner. "No, you have proven yourself a fine student."

She giggled, catching herself smirking at him in a not so friendly manner. Darting her eyes away, she cleared her throat, "Thank you."

The taxi came to a rushing stop, with the droid announcing they have arrived at their location. Y/N reached into her bag for credits, but Obi-Wan beat her to it, pulling some out of his robes.

"Allow me," he said in passing, handing over the credits and stepping out onto the platform. Butterflies erupted in her stomach at the simple gesture, even more so when Obi-Wan leaned over and offered his hand to her as she stepped out.

"Thanks," she said, trying to hide her smile. He only nodded at her, turning to look at the Plaza. It was even busier than the streets outside of the club, though the people were far more diverse. Visitors of all ages crowded around the street vendors, many others lazily strolling around the open space. A few long lines of people were gathered outside of restaurants, others coming in and out of the shops.

"I've never been here at night," Obi-Wan said, a bit breathless, "and I have never gotten the chance to look around."

It was the first time that night that Obi-Wan seemed to be the one mesmerized and not Y/N. The change gave her a hope that she knew she shouldn't have, though she let it lead her anyway. She instinctually looped her arm through his and began walking into the Plaza. Obi-Wan looked down at their linked arms but did not comment, nor pull away.

They strolled through the Plaza at a leisurely pace, each gazing around at nothing in particular. Y/N stopped them in front of a restaurant, which emitted soft music from its closed doors.

"Have you ever been to this one," she asked, pointing at the restaurant.

He shook his head.

"Me either. Ripp says its been here practically forever, but you need to make reservations a year in advance," she laughed, "I also heard it's wildly expensive."

"I've been to a few fancy banquets," he began as they started walking again, "but I personally feel they're overrated."

"Well, thats good for me," she joked, wondering where he would have found himself at a banquet.

"If I am being honest, I have found the best food is often not found in such places. You have to go to the seedy parts of town," he chuckled, gazing at her as if she was an old friend.

She laughed along with him, feeling whatever tension she was once experiencing wash away. She had all but forgotten her promise not to scare him away, giving into her desire to speak with him as if he weren't a Jedi.

They began walking down one side of the Plaza, stopping to look in the window of a shop. The display was filled with items of all sorts; jewelry, beautiful glass blown bowls and vessels, and at its center a metal sculpture.

“There’s a sculpture like that on Mandalore,” he said, pointing to it.

“You’ve been to Mandalore?” She asked excitedly. He nodded. “Tell me what it’s like.”

He paused to collect his words, each still looking at the sculpture in the window. “It is quite unique, the architecture is magnificent, unlike anything in the galaxy that I’ve had the chance to see.” He turned to her. “There’s more metal than you’ve ever seen, everywhere you turn it is there, towering above and below. Thats another system with a rich history, though I am sure you know all about it.”

“Yes, it is fascinating,” was all she could muster at the moment, imagining it. “I’d love to visit one day.”

“If you work for the Senate, I’m sure you will find yourself in many different places.”

“Yes, well, I’m still taking in Coruscant," she said with a sigh.

They strolled along, chatting as they went, with Y/N asking most of the questions. She learned of some of the places Obi-Wan has been over the years, though did not pry into why he was there. She knew it was likely on Jedi business, assuming that such things should be kept secret, or least not told out in the open. At the sight of a display of dresses, Y/N began telling him about a festival on her home world.

“It happens every spring, there’s a big band on this stage in the center of town, with ships flying overhead. The streets are decorated with banners and flowers. Stars, it’s beautiful. There’s dancers as well. One year, not too long ago, I danced. It took months of practice, and when we all walked into the streets I thought that I might faint. We wore dresses just like that,” she spoke animatedly, recalling the joy she had felt at the festival, one of the only times she did not find living on Corellia boring. Obi-Wan listened to her intently, holding on the every word as he pictured her description.

“I would have liked to see that,” he said with a wide smile.

“I’m sure you can make an excuse to see it one day,” she replied, though he shook his head with a laugh.

“No, I meant that I would have liked to see you.”

Y/N felt her face warm, and too embarrassed to look at him, cast her eyes downward. They began walking once again, this time with her leading him towards the center of the Plaza. They soon neared Umate, and at the sight of the mountain peak, Y/N pointed.

"Look!" she said, pulling him towards the protruding rock. As they came towards it, she looked over to Obi-Wan. "You must have seen the peak before."

He stared at the tip of the mountain, deep in thought. The warm glow of the street lamps showed the contours and ridges on its surface. Every time Y/N saw it, she couldn't help but picture the vast surface which lay beneath the platform, all the way down to the planets surface.

Almost whispering, he answered, "Only in passing."

They each stood gazing at the peak, Obi-Wan spoke seemingly to himself, "The only uncovered surface."

Arms still linked, Y/N slowly inched her hand up without realizing what she was doing, softly gripping his arm. She felt Obi-Wan tense, and at the realization of what she was doing, she quickly dropped her hand, though did not drop her arm from his completely. Neither said a word, and Y/N feared she had shattered their bubble. Now you've done it.

As she kicked herself, Obi-Wan looked past the peak and towards a vendor. He turned to her, and if Y/N hadn't known better, she'd think he looked nervous.

"Y/N?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes?" she said, a bit surprised and wondering if he was going to say he had to leave, that she had shown him enough.

On the contrary, his eyes looked back towards the vendor. "I have to admit something."

Intrigued, her confused expression turned into a smile. "What?"

"I've never had a popsicle, and I was wondering if we could-"

Before he could finish, Y/N grinned and began pulling him in the direction of the vendor. Obi-Wan began to laugh, making her chuckle along with him.

"This is the kind of initiative I like to see!" she joked, leading them to stand in line.

"My masters going to kill me." His tone was light hearted enough, though Y/N got the sense he wasn't entirely joking. However, in the moment, he seemed receptive, so she allowed herself to ask him a question.

"You master?"

His gaze met hers before she glanced at his braid which was now thrown behind his shoulder. She longed to run her hands down it and ask him why all young Jedi had one.

"Yes, all Padawans are paired with a Master until they become Knights," he explained, eyes dancing across her face.

"Padawan, knight," she repeated, then laughed to herself, "you're making me realize there are a million things I do not know."

"I am sure you know more than me about many things," his voice was soft and tender as it was before in the taxi. She felt herself begin to melt.

She shook her head. "I don't think so," she paused, "At least not about many things."

"Seeing is not knowing," Obi-Wan commented, head turning to peer at his surroundings. "I am not yet a knight, and there are many things I have not come to learn."

"The we are the same, I am still a student myself," she retorted. Obi-Wan seemed to have been defeated, not saying anything further on the subject. In his silence, she wondered how a Jedi could never think she, a simple student at the university, could possibly know more than him about anything. In comparison, she had been almost nowhere, seen almost nothing. One of the only things she had an upper hand on was knowing how much rent cost in Coruscant, or possibly what a good deal on a ship was due to her childhood spent among the shipyards.

They had now moved to the front of the line, the vendor asking what flavors they'd like. Obi-Wan looked to her, unable to answer. Y/N ordered for them each, paying before Obi-Wan had the chance.

"My treat this time," she said to him with a small smile. He looked at her thankfully, taking his popsicle.

As they began eating, Y/N lead them to a bench. Their arms came a part as they sat, making her sigh. She hoped Obi-Wan had taken it for contentment, rather than disappointment.

"So," she said between licks, "Is this not the best night of your life?"

Obi-Wan chuckled. I did that, she thought.

"Its in the running." His smile had not ceased, much to Y/N's delight.

They ate their popsicles in mostly silence, with Y/N pointing to a few other shops, telling Obi-Wan about what was inside. A bit of Obi-Wan's began to run down his hand, making each of them laugh. For a moment it felt as though they were both normal people, both simply club-goers who happened to cross paths. After they both had finished, Y/N smiled at him, then nodded to the waste basket a ways away.

"Think you can make it in?" She asked, head cocked. Even though she didn't know squat about the force, she figured making a stick into a waist basket was likely child's play to him.

He gave her a devilish look, and smiling, placed a hand over his eyes. Then, he threw the stick, which expertly landed in the center of the basket. Removing his hand, he grinned.

"Lucky shot," she challenged, holding out her stick for him to take. He did so happily, doing the same thing again and wielding the same result.

Rolling her eyes at him, Y/N decided to be bold. "Does your master usually send you out alone?"

"It is unusual, though it depends on the mission. Searching for a criminal, especially without a set location, can be done alone."

The freeness to which he answered the question gave Y/N the hope that she may have the opportunity to ask more about him, though she did not want to overdo it.

"My life must seem boring in comparison." She retreated inwards for a moment, all too aware of how he might see her, as just some random student.

"I long for boredom," he said, not seeming to be joking. Y/N gave him an odd look, making him smile. "Tell me about the university. What is it like?"

She felt her face heat at the thought of him caring about her life, what she did. How could she make anything interesting to him? Even to her it was often dull.

"It was quite scary at first, leaving home and coming to a place like this," she paused, thinking his question over, "But it's interesting, learning about all the different star systems, the politics, how the Republic is structured. It all felt so little at home, even with all the travelers that would come in and out of the ports. Now it's as if I'm in the thick of everything all at once. I could spend hours in the University archives, reading about all these little planets and moons that I didn't even know existed."

Lost in her rambling, she did not catch the twitch in Obi-Wan's hand, nor the fascination on his face.

"You'd love the archives at the Temple," he said, turning away to look at the Plaza. Y/N kept her eyes on his profile, which she wanted to keep in her memory as long as she could.

"I can only imagine," she said with a soft breath, "You could never get me to leave."

He looked back to her. "I wish I could bring you there, in repayment for tonight."

She smirked, biting her lip before she could stop herself. Obi-Wan stayed where he was, head now angled towards hers.

"No, your company is enough," she replied sweetly, the urge to reach out her hand and touch his shoulder almost too much to resist.

“I have always appreciated the city for its beauty, for the energy which permeates its every corner. Yet, I have never seen it in this light.”

Obi-Wan sighed, eyes softening. Under the lights of the Plaza, they look dazzlingly blue, reminding her of the ocean back home. After an entire night of stopping herself from saying something foolish, Y/N gave in fully, throwing all caution and embressment to the wind.

"Your eyes," she whispered, forgetting about the people passing by and the chatter of their voices, "they're just like the oceans on Corellia. Clear, like aquamarine."

Obi-Wan breathed in sharply, staring at her with a clipped intensity, as if he was holding himself back. His robes, loose around his chest, billowed as his shoulders relaxed, revealing a sliver of his golden skin. Obi-Wan did not speak, eyes darting across her face. Slowly and with great care, Y/N lifted her hand and placed it on his shoulder as she had wanted to before. It inched towards the hood of his robe, all the while Obi-Wan allowed her to do so, making no move to stop it. Her nerves went wild, shooting bursts of warmth all through her, up her arms and down her spine. With a final press into the rough texture of his robes, she reached up towards his face, brushing his cheek with the backs of her fingers. Obi-Wan shuttered, so slightly that Y/N would have missed it if she hadn't have been fully taking him in, absorbed in his presence.

Breaking her from her trance, Obi-Wan reached for her hand, taking it in his. He brought it down to his chest, cradling it softly.

"Y/N..." he began, rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand.

"I know," she said, not waiting for him to finish.

He sighed deeply, dropping his head and looking at her hand within his, still moving his thumb back and forth. His expression was blank, though a crease formed between his brows. Just like before, she thought.

While much of Obi-Wan was still a mystery, she knew he was overthinking every step he had made that night, her hand in his, arms linked, the fast beating of their hearts. She longed to stop his train of thought, to tell him that it was all okay, that this was far from bad. Out of pure instinct and selfish desire, she leaned down to catch his eyes. Below his face, she stared up at him, who for the first time that night appeared entirely unsure of himself. While he had seemed weary before, never was he so lost, completely out of his element. His inner turmoil played out within his eyes, though as she looked into them, the more he seemed to bend. She glanced at his lips, which were slightly parted, sucking in a breath as she slowly moved forward. Giving him time to pull away, to jump back and send her off, she placed the hand that was not in his on his opposite shoulder. With Obi-Wan's head still tilted forward, their lips softly met.

Her heart fluttered even though neither of them moved. The touch of his lips against hers was impossibly delicate, as if it was the first time she had ever kissed someone. She feared that deepening the kiss or moving an inch would scare him away, but was still content with its simplicity. Obi-Wan released her hand, moving to cup her cheek. Smiling into the kiss, she took as an innovation to go further. She opened her mouth, pressing harder into him. He responded slowly, yet did not pull away. Rather, he leaned in as well, allowing her to carefully run her tongue along his lower lip. Sighing deeply, he moved away, though not far. Y/N could feel his warm breath upon her, and she smiled sheepishly.

Their eyes met, and Obi-Wan began to stroke her face with his thumb as he had done with her hand. She fisted the robes which lay across his shoulder, body moving towards his.

The guilt then came upon her, flooding her with a unique shame. She looked into his eyes and spoke softly, "I'm sorry, I-" she faltered. Obi-Wan's expression changed to that of sadness, or perhaps pity.

"It is my fault," his voice was thin, as if it were spread taut. Y/N placed both her hands on his face, letting her head fall against his chest. For a moment Obi-Wan did nothing but keep his hand where it was on her cheek, though soon brought her face back up to at his. "There is a code," he whispered, "It is my duty to keep to it. I should not have allowed myself such an indulgence."

All this time Y/N had thought he was indulging her, and his admission causing a pang within her heart. Her hands dropped from his face.

"But I should not have done that," she said with full sincerity.

He smiled sadly, studying her face which was still in his hands. He brushed the backs of his fingers across it again.

"I have never," he paused, sighing to himself, "You are lovely, Y/N, and you have given me a great gift,” he stopped, pressing his lips together tightly as if to keep himself from speaking further. With another shaky exhale, he dropped his eyes from hers.

"I have never met anyone like you," she said, hoping he knew what she meant. It was not that she had never met a Jedi. No, she had simply never met a man, or person like himself.

"Likewise," he answered, chuckling dryly, looking back into her eyes.

They both sat for a moment looking at one another, not saying a word. Y/N hoped to prolong his departure as much as she could, feeling it coming upon them far faster than she would have liked. She studied the shape of his kind eyes, his strong chin, his lips which were now stern. The desire to memorize him was given into greedily, just as she had given into their kiss. It was almost gluttonous, the way she took in the last remaining drops of his presence. Don’t forget his eyes, don’t forget his words, don’t forget our kiss.

She nearly stopped herself from speaking, though reasoned that it was no use now. She had already shown him all he could know. "I wish it were different," her voice barely cracked, though she knew he noticed.

"As do I." He dropped his gaze again, and they each sat quietly for a while, how long Y/N could not tell. It could have been ten seconds or ten hours before he spoke again, "I must go," his voice trailed off.

Y/N moved away from him as he stood, already missing their closeness. He stared out across the Plaza for a long moment before turning back to her, who was watching him, thinking about his braid. “Let me see that you return safely,” he offered. Y/N shook her head.

“I have plenty of credits for a taxi,” she replied, still feeling a bit dazed from their kiss.

“Are you sure?” He asked, seeming quite concerned. If she wasn’t so forlorn, she would have laughed.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’m used to getting home at night.”

Looking somewhat disappointed in her stubbornness, Obi-Wan leaned down and kissed her temple, holding his lips there a for a moment longer than she had expected.

Half to herself, Y/N spoke out into the night at no one in particular, “I’ll never see you again, will I?”

Again, Obi-Wan smiled down at her. “Perhaps one day.”

Then, Obi-Wan walked away into the crowd. Y/N soon lost him amongst the rest of the people, a strange feeling stirring in her stomach. She didn’t expect to ever meet anyone like him ever again, Jedi or not. Though, there was always the hope that one day, they may cross paths again.

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aibloomie · 1 year

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GOING ON A DATE WITH THEM

✧ featuring — xiao, childe, thoma, and kaveh x gn!reader

xiao’s and childe’s are way longer because yes </3 this is what my short lived motivation brought me to write so I'm pretty happy WOOO ignore any typos HELP

xiao, who would not complain about taking you up one of the tall hills residing in the huaguan stone forest upon your idea for a date with him there. feeling the sturdy ground of the hill would make him feel serene, and his ecstasy would be tripled because he's accompanied by his precious lover. you have him wrapped around your finger, and he finds himself accepting gestures that he never imagined he would have. you could adorn his hair with lovely qingxin petals, trace his light tattoo with your fingers (which will definitely make his cheeks flush), and even request to wear the seemingly dangerous necklace that hangs around his neck. he’s all yours <3

“your sources of happiness are quite odd.” xiao comments, watching as your fingers toy with the pearl colored beads of his necklace. contentment fills your features, your eyelashes fluttering in what he views as a dreamy manner, and your smile seemed almost everlasting as it made no effort to leave your face. you seem happy by simply touching his necklace as if it was a long lost treasure, more happy than if your favorite food were to be presented right in front of you at this very moment.

his statement made you snicker, “xiao, are you calling yourself odd then?”

“what do you mean?” xiao scoffed, cluelessness clear in his eyes as he stared blankly at your amused ones for a couple seconds before he realized what you were indicating. his eyes widened for a split second. the seed of pure and blissful love that you had instilled in him was nurtured by each and every moment he spent with you, by every realization he had of how dearly you loved him.

“oh.” a second of silence as he tried to say something- anything. “I see…you make me happy too.” his last words were quiet, but certainly ones that made your heart jumping with joy since xiao usually had trouble vocalizing such thoughts.

once the date is over and the sky turns a midnight blue, xiao cannot get you off of his mind. his company every night is the moon— who listens to the lovingly sweet thoughts xiao has about you, the memories that replay over and over in his head and contribute to his pounding heartbeat, and feels the longing for you that courses through his veins. the moon is his witness to his overwhelming love for you.

childe who would want to travel to dragonspine, welcoming the bittersweet feeling of the snow that reminds him an awful lot of his home nation and family. he’ll make sure you’re all bundled up, warm, and safe so that the weather does not make you sick. he is an expert at this, given that it is something he used to do frequently back in snezhnaya to make sure his loved ones never got sick. he thinks you’re really cute, looking at him lovingly while he wraps a scarf around you.

“where did you even pull out that scarf from? I didn’t see you take it when we left to come here."

childe feigns disbelief, dramatically placing a hand over his heart, though his next words were laced with delight. “oh, how you wound me. how could my own lover forget that I always come prepared?”

with a roll of your eyes, you shake your head. “yeah? mind telling me about the time that you so heavily insisted on paying for our meal at liuli pavilion and ended up somehow forgetting your mora?”

this time, childe let out an authentic gasp. “hey!” he didn’t even have a comeback.

with that out of the way, he of course wants to have some sort of battle with you. he’s a competitive individual, after all. so yes, expect him to suggest that you guys hold a snowman competition. just because he loves and adores you does not mean that he will go easy on you </3 snowball fights are not out of the question either, though he does make sure to tone down his strength for it so he doesn’t hurt you

you’ll be spoiled by the end of a night full of thoma’s company, walking alongside him through the well lit streets of inazuma city. you might get teased by a few of the merchants who have known thoma for a long time, making comments on how much of a fitting couple you are. the more elderly people openly describe the two of you as the embodiment of what it feels like to be “young and in love.” all of that just makes thoma’s smile grow and his hold on your hand tightens momentarily, not bashful at all over how clear his feelings are for you.

on dates like this he really enjoys buying you what you want. see some food that makes your mouth water? within a second he’s already ordering, unintentionally getting a discount since he has helped the cook out in the past (and yes he will want to feed you the food if you let him, and likewise, would love to be fed by you as well)

kaveh, who guides you to a well adorned boat floating idly on a river that circulates a beautifully built city. his attentiveness shows by the dishes with your favorite foods and beverages that are nicely laid out within the boat, accompanied by the decoration that makes the interior of the boat anything but dull. any compliments crafted for him on your end make his mind feel fuzzy, evident by the way his face flushes perfectly.

the opposite is also true. usually kaveh would more carefully bask in his surroundings, but you captivated his eyes way more than any intricately designed building could, and he makes that known.

“even with all this impressive architecture surrounding us, I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you.” kaveh’s tone was tender, as if his heart was speaking on its own. his auburn eyes soften as he reaches out a hand to gently caress your cheek. “your unmatched beauty and kindness is breathtaking.”

the date is definitely going to be stuck in his head </3 kaveh already knows he's going to arrive back at alhaitham's home once the date is over, so immersed in his own daydreams of you that he won't even be in the mood to bicker with his roommate (you have kaveh burying his face into a pillow and swinging his legs /hj)

#genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #thoma x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin fluff

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animeomegas · 4 months

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You saying that Neji is one of the most requested characters actually reminded me of an angst plot line I thought about a couple weeks ago.

I don’t usually think about Neji dying (because he shouldn’t have but that’s besides the point) but it does have really good angst potential.

I imagine an alpha who’s a bright person, kinda like Naruto but to a lesser degree and they have a huge crush on Neji. I’m talking ginormous crush on him. They meet Neji when they both enter the academy because they’re also a shinobi but they don’t interact with him very often because he’s Neji.

During the Chunin exams when Neji reveals what the Hyuga clan has done to him they make it their mission to help Neji get out of the clan. They go to see Neji after his match (they lost in the previous matches) to make sure he’s alright and then they promise to help him be free from his clan. Neji being Neji denies the alpha at first because he’s stubborn and doesn’t want the help but as they get older he can’t help but think about the promise the alpha made to him.

During the war the alpha almost dies and when Neji comes to check up in them they tell him that they refuse to die so easily because they made a promise to him and they intend to keep it for when the war is over. I like to think it would reflect when the alpha first made the promise to him with the alpha being hurt instead. Neji is the tiniest bit less stubborn and while he doesn’t directly accept the alpha’s words it’s clear by his body language that he is more accepting to the alpha now that he’s older. Then he dies :D

The alpha basically falls apart when he does. They feel like a failure, like an awful alpha, their chest hurts so much they feel like they’re dying. They don’t understand why it had to be Neji (I’d change his death to an accidental one honestly because his canon one is bad) he just wanted to be free and live how he wanted but instead his life got cut short at 18 with him still being a prisoner.

When the war ends the alpha can barely do anything. They can’t eat, can’t go anywhere, can’t get out of bed and can barely sleep because they see Neji is their dreams. In said dreams Neji often blames the poor alpha for not protecting him like they promised they would. Their friends come to see them to comfort them but it doesn’t work because they can’t bring Neji back to life. Their friends are super worried about them because it’s been almost 4 months and the alpha hasn’t had any improvement and just keeps drowning further and further into their grief.

I had 3 ideas for the ending 1 angst, 1 bittersweet, and 1 hopeful. One was that the alpha dies from the heartbreak of losing Neji. They weren’t mated but they loved Neji so much that they just couldn’t take it.

The second one is that the alpha decides to just give up and waste away. They’re friends stop them and get the alpha help but they will never be the same. Yes they have their friends with them but they don’t have Neji. They appreciate their friends but they just wanted to be with Neji again. The alpha keeps living as a husk of what they were before but at least they have their loved ones to help them.

The last one is that the alpha decides to live for Neji. To help make the change Neji wanted in the Hyuga clan. When Hinata becomes head they help her fight for the side branch members to be treated equally to main branch members and they adopt a child from the Hyuga clan. They don’t mate or court anyone else but they are content with their child and other loved ones.

Also Hinata treats them like family because I love found family and she knows how much the alpha loves Neji. She also is their biggest supporter both while they are grieving and after because I said so.

I swear this is the biggest idea I’ve had in a while. My brain has been legit empty ever since. Neji both fills my brain with many thoughts and empties it all the same. I wanted to make this into a story but seasonal depression hit hard so :\

This broke my heart in the best way, anon, thank you so much, but also how dare you 🤧 No thoughts, only Neji. Seasonal depression is rough, and I hope you're doing okay. If you do ever write this though, please tag me, I would love to read it, even if it would probably make me cry :(((

I adore the idea of the alpha dedicating their life to living in a way that honours Neji. They help fix the Hyuuga clan with Hinata, they adopt a Hyuuga orphan, they look after his old team and make sure all his friends are doing well. It's bittersweet, but 🥺

#asks #neji #hcs #a/b/o #omegaverse #cw death

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ambidextrousarcher · 10 months

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“ஆகா! நீயும் அவர்களைப் போலத்தான் பேசுகிறாய்! பெண்ணே! இவ்வுலகில் அரண்மனையைப் போன்ற சிறைக்கூடம் வேறில்லை; சிம்மாசனத்தைப் போன்ற பலிபீடமும் இல்லை; கிரீடம் அணிவது போன்ற தண்டனை வேறு கிடையவே கிடையாது. இதையெல்லாம் மற்றவர்களிடம் சொன்னால் ஒப்புக்கொள்ள மாட்டார்கள்; நீயாவது ஒப்புக் கொள்வாய் என்று நினைத்தேன்."

பூங்குழலியின் கண்ணிமைகள், பட்டுப் பூச்சியின் சிறகுகளைப்போல் அடித்துக் கொண்டன. அவள் ஆர்வம் ததும்பிய அகன்ற கண்களினால் அரசிளங்குமாரரை நோக்கினாள்.

"சமுத்திரகுமாரி! உண்மையாகச் சொல்! உன்னை வாழ்நாளெல்லாம் ஒரு சிம்மாசனத்தில் உட்கார்ந்திருக்கும்படி சொன்னால் உட்கார்ந்திருப்பாயா?" என்று இளவரசர் கேட்டார்.

பூங்குழலி சிறிது நேரம் யோசனை செய்தாள். பின்னர், "மாட்டேன்!" என்று தெளிவாகச் சொன்னாள்.

"பார்த்தாயா? பின்னே என்னை மட்டும் அந்தத் தண்டனைக்கு ஏன் உள்ளாக்க விரும்புகிறாய்?"

One dynamic I honestly enjoy in the books till now is definitely Arulmozhi with Poonkuzhali. They seem to have similar natures, and appreciate each other well. Arulmozhi’s dream of exploring the oceans is close to Poonkuzhali’s happiest moments in the sea.

I have seen character analysis of Poonkuzhali almost demeaning her that she sought Arulmozhi because of his royal status, and that she dreams of living in a Palace, that she does not appreciate his simplicity, and these lines in the book prove such analyses false, as far as my own reading is concerned.

Poonkuzhali explicitly also tells Arulmozhi that her fascination with him started from watching her athai’s (Mandakini’s) drawings, and while she might be in awe of his royal status as well, she opens up more to him when he’s talking in a familiar fashion with her, even asking him to take her sailing with him, as opposed to asking him to take her to the palaces.

Both of them regard royal luxuries as something of a burden, which makes it bittersweet that both of them end up in positions of royal responsibility.

This is my opinion, supported by my reading of the text, your mileage may vary. I request you to be considerate while replying if you do.

Tagging the usual list! @whippersnappersbookworm @mizutaama @celestesinsight @harinishivaa @thelekhikawrites @thereader-radhika @willkatfanfromasia @themorguepoet @humapkehaikaun

Anyway, coming to today’s snippet of the day:

Context: Poonkuzhali has just exclaimed that Arulmozhi has the qualities befitting the ruler of the three worlds.

This is Aulmozhi’s reply and a bit of what follows.

“Aha! You, too, are speaking like them! (the elders who want to enthrone Arulmozhi) Girl! In this world, there is no such prison as a palace; no such sacrificial altar as a throne; no greater punishment than a crown. If all this is said to others, they will not agree; I believed that you, at least, would agree (with me).”

Poonkuzhali’s eyelashes fluttered akin to butterfly wings. She looked at Arulmozhivarmar with wide eyes that were filled with wonder.

“Samudra Kumari! Answer honestly! If you were asked to sit on a throne all your life, will you do so?” asked the Prince.

Poonkuzhali thought for a while. Then, “I will not!” she stated firmly.

“You see? Then, why do you wish for me alone to bear that punishment?”

#ponniyin selvan #snippet #book 2 #arulmozhi varman #poonkuzhali

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pizzatrocious · 19 days

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So! With the end of this wonderful little event, I do have a bit of a bittersweet announcement.

I'll still be around here and there on a low-effort multimuse I plan to make a while from now... but, save for any light activity you'll still see from me, I plan on retiring from writing.

I'm not retiring for any bad reasons, quite the opposite! But as someone that's been writing on Tumblr for roughly... 14 years? I think I've done most of what I've wanted to do. Every kind of thread you can imagine, every type of character, and every type of genre. For the past few years I've jumped blogs A LOT, but really only because I loved chasing whatever next big thing felt fun to write.

I was here when ask blogs were the standard instead of RP blogs, regardless of whether or not the mun could draw. I remember my first ever Bowser RP blog, iconless and full of crack on a classic Redux theme. I unfortunately remember the Homestuck and Danganronpa craze, and an era where icons were a semi-new novelty that only the 'fancy' blogs used. I remember back when a majority of the Pokemon RPC was a fairly popular crack group that, at its peak, had 300~ active blogs all at once.

I remember the Splatoon Marie roleplayer that chased after me, even when I'd socially isolate myself during the darkest spots of my life, and the Rosalina blog she made later down the line. You might know her now as my wife, Rosie. Funny to think, our more popular duo wound up being Peach and Bowser.

I remember all the different iterations of the Smash RPCs, and all the people that rocked the community with every post. Then there was the Sonic RPC, a place that was almost torn apart by an awful person's hold on the community, only to rise from the ashes! That RPC's pretty quiet nowadays, but those guys may as well be sleeper agents for Sonic content.

Then there's the people I affectionately call 'The Elder Gods'. The ones that, despite being here over a DECADE, they still dedicate themselves to the same characters they always have. They're usually the ones with the ancient-looking blogs that go largely under-the-radar nowadays, but they're the foundation that built these writing communities. You guys mostly just keep to yourselves nowadays, but I see you.

And of course, my good ol' kindred spirits, the people that roleplay the most obscure, hyper-specific characters. Those one-off indie games, obscure shows, characters stuck to a spinoff title or are just dubiously canon, or characters with basically no canon that they've made into their own!

Of course, that's not to forget the people that take the big popular characters, and absolutely ROCK them in a way that makes the character all their own. Gotta toot my own horn, considering one of my old Bowser blogs had a couple thousand followers.

I could go on, and on, and on... but long story short, I've had a great time here.

Part of me never wants to stop, to be honest. But in all this time, I've become a different person. My hobbies have changed, my interests have changed, I'm a completely different person now! But I've also always been a stubborn creature of habit, never wanting to give anything up.

As a result of being anchored to my old habits so long, I'm left a little at a loss for what I want in life. More and more I've felt like a caged animal, just circling around my little enclosure and doing the same things over and over for enrichment. Add to that the usual struggles of adult life being rough and expensive, and you can imagine wanting to spend more of my time on survival is a factor too.

Nobody's gonna know what I really want now, except for me. I need to get out there and do some soul-searching. Find new hobbies, make new friends, experience new things... who knows what I'll be doing a year from now!

That said, I give my genuine, most heartfelt thank you to everyone I've ever crossed paths with in throughout all of the Tumblr RPCs I've been in. Honestly, the only reason I don't list off names is purely because I want to make sure nobody gets left out of my little expression of gratitude. You all know who you are, anyway.

I wish I could've known some of you a little better... but that's just life, isn't it? Sometimes the most impactful people in your lives are the ones you never get to really know. I'm sure I've gotten to be that person for my own fair share of people, with how reclusive I tend to be.

Again, this isn't goodbye. I mean, I'd be a little embarrassed if people thought I was gone forever, only for me to pop up a week or two later. This is a hobby I've always loved, I'll always find my way back to it. I'll always be lurking about, sometimes posting during funny shenanigans. Like I said at the start of this post, I plan on making a private, low-effort multimuse! Mostly I'll just use it to keep tabs on my friends and the writers I really enjoy seeing, but I still have a small list of characters I'd like to play around with a little.

Otherwise though, it's time to leave the nest and try other things.

Thank you again. This is Vincent, signing off.

#ooc 🍕🤡#I also plan on handing the keys to this blog to Rosie later. So keep an eye out!

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charliesinfern0 · 8 months

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some high school ai doodles! (+ bit of a lore dump under the cut ^^)

i think high school ai would be like very deadpan and kind of serious, with a bit of a trickster streak. like, in osomatsu-kun she doesnt have much of a personality and is deadpan (sort of similar to the rice balls before they became neet ai), but shes a a little bit shy and clumsy bc shes figuring out the whole living thing.

then in high school her disposition becomes more intense, on the outside she looks super serious but if you were close to her you’d know how much of a menace she is. she gets straight As and is an impeccable student, but in her free time one of her favorite things to do is to just lightly mess with the sextuplets (though sometimes she does aim to cause psychological damage) she loves scamming and tricking osomatsu and choromatsu the most, and she just likes to confuse the rest of them with her antics. she’s just a little silly ^^

then after the sextuplets start to drift apart, ai starts to become a little distant with them too. she still talks and sometimes hangs out with them, but usually she talks to each of them one on one (except for choro and todo bc they’re still around each other the most). she starts to focus more on her studies and her future, having some kind of bitter awakening to the fact that this wasn’t going to last forever, that at some point shes going to have to start thinking about the future and not dwell on the past.

there’s a moment where ichi, yanagida and their friend group are hanging out and yanagida notices ai and nudges ichi and is like “hey, isnt that your friend? you wanna invite her for karaoke after school?” and ichi is like “uhh…” and yanagida is like “are you nervous about asking her? :O do you have a crush on her?? ill ask for you then!” and he goes over to ai and ichi chases after him and he gets ai’s attention and asks her to join them after school and ai looks over at ichi who is standing behind him and he flinches and looks away and she looks back at yanagida and politely declines, saying that she needs to study and walks away and theres this awful awkward silence before yanagida is just like “…huh, bummer! sorry about that ichi!” and ichi is dying inside but hes just like “haha yeah but its fine we can just try inviting her next time!”

(there is in fact a next time but she declines again, and again, until she finally agrees but its really awkward, especially when yanagida pushes ichi and ai to do a duet together, but they ended up having a little fun by the end of it, but that only makes her leaving all the more bitter)

a year or so after graduation, she leaves for college, with a bittersweet goodbye from the sextuplets, not knowing if they’ll ever see her again :(

#she's like mai minakami from nichijou!#also think her and takahashi would be on good terms #takahashi would find her really funny ^^#osomatsu san #osomatsu san oc #choromatsu #choromatsu matsuno #ososan #ososan art #eiga no osomatsu san

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

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A Moment Captured - Tommy Miller x Reader

Summary: Tommy wakes you up with books and cuddles you except the tension gets too much for feelings to be held back

Words: 1.8K

Warnings: none I think

Y/N’s POV

I stir at the shift in weight on my bed, eyes fluttering open to find a very sweet Tommy sitting there, a small smile on his face as he brushes my hair out of my eyes. His own are warm and kind, catching cognac in the morning light that filters through my curtains, twinkling as he watches me. His hair is a deep and rich shade of brown, so rich it’s mostly black and his curls are tousled from his patrol, only adding to his addictive charm.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty,” His voice is low and gentle, like a hug to my brain. There’s a hint of mischief in his tone as if he’s trying, and failing very badly, to suppress that boyish grin of his and it causes butterflies to stir in my stomach at the sight of him. His eyes are flicking to my bedside table as I pull myself up into a sitting position, a little self-conscious I’m in one of the shirts I stole from him and panties and that’s it but I quickly forget all of that when I realise why he’s so excited.

There is a stack of books on my bedside table, five of them. I’m in awe as I pick up the first book, “A Fault in Our Stars” by John Green, I remember seeing my older sister read that a year or so before the outbreak. The cover is tattered and the pages are yellowed but there’s something undeniably beautiful about it’s worn edges. I run my fingers over the spine, feeling the grooves left by countless readings, knowing that this was once someone’s favourite book as I flip through the pages as see notes scribbled in the margins. It’s like holding a little piece of someone who has passed, keeping that person alive with their messy scrawl in the palm of my hands. My fingers ghost over the faded writing, feeling connected to the person who once held it and poured their thoughts and emotions onto its pages.

It’s a bittersweet feeling, knowing that these books have been neglected due to the outbreak. I can only imagine the joy and solace they brought to people before the world feel apart and it’s heart-wrenching to think that so many things were lost in the chaos. But it’s moments like this that give me hope, the fact that these still exist even in their worn and neglected states which in itself is a testament to the resilience of humanity.

Tommy’s shifting where he’s sat, eyes flicking briefly away before coming back, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks as he bites his lower lips slights as if trying to think of the right words. He’s usually confident and flirty but he almost seems shy and uncertain in this moment. Seeing him drag his plump bottom lip between his teeth has my heart fluttering and he notices the way I have to shift a little myself. That confidence is back in an instant as his lips curve into a mischievous grin, eyes sparkling with playfulness. It’s a subtle gesture but it’s enough to make me flustered and breathless, like he’s teasing me without saying a words and I should be mad but I just feel more drawn to him, especially when he speaks, “Scoot over sugar, let me join you for a bit.”

I’m stuck watching him as he stands, slipping his jacket off to place it on the back of my chair at my desk, my face flushing at the sight of him. He’s in a fitted button up that hugs his toned chest and abs, leaving little to the imagination as his muscular arms flex when he sets the jacket down. My eyes are gliding over his tall figure, admiring the way his jeans cling to his thick and muscular thighs and I’m daring a glance between his legs to see if his jeans are that tight but they’re not. He’s reaching for my old Polaroid camera I found a few months ago, holding it out to me with a raised eyebrow and teasing smile.

“Take a picture doll, put it to use when I’m not around to stare at.” His voice is low and full of unmistakable desire when he speaks, a hint of teasing still in his tone. The southerns drawl only adds to the sensual quality of his words, making my heart race at the implications ad his voice sends shivers down my spine and pulls a flush from me.

I’m frozen in place when Tommy moves so he’s leaning against the wall, crossing his arms and flexing those muscles, sending me a playful smirk and gives me a look of ‘well?’. So I raise the camera and click it, the flash almost blinding before the familiar whirring fills the room. I catch the picture as it starts to develop, Tommy moving back to the bed and sitting next to me, leaning in to watch the image slowly take shape. I can feel his breath ghosting over the back of my neck and the way his thigh presses against mine. Tommy’s snatching the picture form me when it’s developed enough to see what it is and he’s holding it up, studying it before speaking, “Not bad Doll,” His voice is low and husky, “But it’s not as good as the real thing, is it?” He’s leaning closer, breath hot against my ear, “Maybe I should take one in the bathroom for you.”

My face burns as I try to come up with a witty response but all I can manage is a shy smile, the asshole leaving me speechless. He’s always teasing me but this is different, this is more intentional and as if he has an end goal instead of our usual teasing and flirting. He’s moving suddenly, drawing a surprised sound from me when he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me between his legs as he shifts himself to sit against the headboard of the bed. My back presses against his chest and I can feel the warmth radiating from him as I pick my book back up, intending to start reading it and act as if he has no affect on me.

I really try to focus on the book but the tension in the air is making it hard to concentrate, especially when he’s shifting a little and his body is molding to mine perfectly and his breath hot on my neck, drawing goosebumps. The rough pads of his fingers trace circles up and down my arms, making my skin tingle and I’m leaning further back against him. His chest rises and falls against my back comfortingly, a contented sigh slipping past my lips. I’ve been reading the page over and over again, unable to focus on anything other than the feel of Tommy surrounding me.

My head falls back against Tommy’s shoulder, feeling his chin brush my hair. Our eyes meet and I can see the affection and desire in his gaze, my heart racing again as he leans in. For a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me but he stops just short, breath hot on my cheek and I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks as I choke out, “Please.”

His composure breaks and his lips are meeting mine, both of us giving into the overwhelming feelings of want and desire that has been simmering between us. The heat of his body, the scent of his cologne, the roughness of his facial hair against my skin has a sound escaping my lips which he swallows eagerly. His lips are soft and tender against mine yet so full of desire and longing it’s almost overwhelming. Our lips move together in a slow and sensual dance, each kiss deeper than the last. His strong arms wrap roundly waist, pulling me closer until there’s no space left between us, the book slipping to the floor. Those large and calloused hands grip my waist, lifting me up and spinning me around to straddle his lap in one smooth movement that draws a sharp gasp from me.

Heat is radiating off of Tommy as he pulls me so close to him that his chest presses against mine, my arms wrapping around his shoulders while my fingers slide into his curls, revealing in how silky they are despite having been on patrol this morning. His hands roam my body, exploring every inch as I moan into his mouth, him reciprocating the sound.

The kiss breaks too soon, ragged breaths while his hands continue to roam and one slipping under my shirt to trace patterns on my back while the other holds the back of my head so his fingers can tangle in my hair. He’s tugging lightly, tilting my head and so his lips can travel down my neck, leaving a trial of hot kisses in their wake. My hands gripping his own hair tighter as I let out a gasp, feeling a surge of pleasure shoot through me. It feels like you've been waiting for this moment forever, and now that it's finally here, it's like a breath of fresh air. Your heart races as you deepen the kiss, lost in the heat and passion of the moment

Suddenly, Tommy’s radio goes off and Joel’s familiar voice echoes through the room, telling Tommy to get his annoying ass back to the gates so he can help his brother with a building that needs a few fixtures. Tommy’s sighing into my neck, reluctantly sliding me off his lap and standing but there’s a mischievous smirk on his lips. Before I can ask he’s disappearing into my bathroom, the Polaroid camera in his hands, my heart still racing from our kisses moments ago. All I can do is wait patiently, listening to the sound of the click of the button and the whirring of the camera. Finally, Tommy returns and hands me the developing picture.

I’m spluttering as the picture develops: it’s a dick pic. He went to the bathroom and pulled down his trousers and took a picture of his hard dick. I should be tucking the picture away but I can’t help but stare at it as Tommy is no way small and I can’t help when there’s a longing ache between my legs. I can imagine how much he’d split me apart, being able to feel every drag and the way the tip would probably brush against my cervix. Lips are capturing mine in a kiss that leaves me wanting more and he knows it by the smirk of his lips as he steps away after.

His voice is low and sultry when he speaks, “I’ll leave you to image it sugar but I will be back to show you how it really feels.”

“Tommy!”

“Love you Sugar!”

------------

The Last of Us Masterlist

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