۶ৎ.𖥔 ݁ ˖۶ৎ

When the moon shined down on Coruscant, you were sneaking through the dimly lit corridors of the Jedi Temple with your heart hammering like a malfunctioning hyperdrive. Hiding behind the walls, quietly taking quick steps through the halls was what was left of you this day. That's who you were - a breathless Jedi breaking the code for her own pleasure. Clumsily your fingers tried to smooth out your robe, tugging it at the spots, tightening the belt to make it look less..clumpy.

Obi-Wan’s scent - clean linen, spiced tea - still clung to your skin from earlier tonight. He’d kissed you goodnight with that gentle, knowing smile, calling you "darling" in that soft accent that always made your knees weak.

But now your lips were still tingling from ANAKIN SKYWALKER. He’d cornered you in the hangar bay after Obi-Wan left for a council meeting. “He doesn’t see you the way I do,” Anakin had mumbled against your neck, with his well known fire and frustration for the man who stepped in to fulfill the promise he made to his own master, hands gripping your hips like he was afraid you’d go back to Obi-Wan. Your hands in his curls, your lips dancing together in the most messy way, gasps and breathless giggles of pleasure and confessions bubbling through both of you..After all, the chosen one was nothing but reckless, beautiful, burning with everything Obi-Wan tried to temper.

You slipped back into your quarters just as the door hissed open behind you.

“Late night?” Obi-Wan’s voice was nothing but calm with an eerie sharpness beneath it. He was standing there in his tunics, arms loosely crossed, blue eyes studying you with that piercing insight he usually reserved for something far more serious than meeting people he loved by the closed doors

Your pulse spiked, you didn't expect to see him here, in your room, at this hour.. “Just… couldn’t sleep. Walked the gardens..needed some fresh air to clear my mind"

Gardens..sure..if it involved anakin's mouth all over your body, jealousy coming from his groaned words about how Obi-Wan cant make you feel the does, then you hadn't lied. About how tons of rhetorical questions left his swollen lips you ached to kiss so much; "No, i want you to say it out loud, y/n..say it..say he cant make you feel like this-" just when he angled his hips enough to make your head fall back, fingers to clench on whatever leftover clothes you hadn't torn up, and a surprisingly loud gasp that bubbled through your chest.

“Does Obi-Wan fuck you like this? Does he make you scream his name?” Another sharp thrust which hit a spot that made your vision spark. “Or is that only for me?”

He steps closer. The man who taught Anakin everything knows when someone’s hiding the truth - after all, not only was he good in reading body language but also he could sense the shift in the Force around you; the guilt mixed with lingering desire that sparkled not for him. His hand brushed your cheek, thumb tracing your jaw with heartbreaking tenderness.

Without much thought you leaned into the soft touch of his hand like it was nothing but a reflex. But as you gazed into the eyes you have been effectively lying to, a sense of disgust and shame replaced any memory of encounter with your boyfriend's apprentice.

You felt dirty, sudden claws digging into your throat, squeezing just enough to fill your eyes with reprehensible tears. Obi-Wan was pure, he didnt do anything wrong - he treated you like a royalty, always loving, caring, gentle.. anakin's word's haunted your mind "you don't want gentle, do you, angel?" .

You knew what you were doing was wrong on so many levels. Yet whenever you tried to stop, you found yourself wanting both of them at the same time. Manhandling with Anakin made you imagine it was Obi-Wan, devoting love making made you imagine it was young Skywalker who had you pinned beneath him, talking you through it while seeking eye contact..

“You know you can tell me anything, love.” His voice dropped, pulling you out of your thoughts. You could sense his words were warm and reassuring, but as you gazed upon his eyes, a flicker of something else settled there. Suspicion? Hurt? Or was he already piecing it together? Did he noticed how Anakin was suddenly in high spirits? Or how you were slowly drifting away?

Meanwhile, somewhere across the Temple, Anakin was thinking about your body, about how you molded perfectly into him, about how he made you shiver..A hot water run down on his body, as he let it cover him completely under the steamed walls of the shower. He wants you. Needs you. And the thought of you going back to his former Master was tearing him apart.

One thing to know about SAM MONROE is that he strongly disliked diapers. Buying them was far more complicated than solving probability & satistics from math. There were so many brands for the same product and, in your mind, not every one was the best. Yet, there was something far worse than just buying diapers for Vincent - Sam Monroe hated diaper changes.

So naturally, he was more than done with fighting against what felt like four pair of arms and two short legs that suddenly kicked like they were on Olympics.

The reason was rather obvious - the smell busting his nostrils, the wipes that never came out one at a time, even when the producer promised on the greatness of their category killer. The hatred also came from how Vinnie, most of the days very calm, suddenly had a domestic transition which just meant he turned into a slippery, giggling octopus the second Sam tried to fasten the tabs. Out of nowhere Sam Monroe thought Vincent grew another pair of little arms that moved like butterfly's wings.

That’s a short prestory on how he ended up standing in the baby aisle at 8:47 p.m., with tiredness painting dark circles under his eyes. Naturally, Sam had no idea how to present or even make a toddler learn to use a potty. Yes, he did (or tried to) make some research but all of the videos he had found were bringing him itchy feeling of cringe, creeping up under his skin. The only thing he could actually come up with was buying Vincent such 'potty throne' that would have his 'best friends' on it..that would be helpful, right?

At least that was how he had thought as his eyes stayed glazed on the yellow winnie the pooh potty that had little drawing of the cartoon bear wearing his knowable red shirt while in his hands he was holding a brow pot on the side. Pooh’s dumb, comforting smile plastered on the backrest.

“…You better work,” Sam muttered, reaching forward to grab it.

The first attempt happened the next morning, Sam didn't want to wait anymore. One thing was his exhaustion, the other came from something he had buried deep inside him to keep the appearance of who he was before Vincent was born.

Excitement to be part of this boy's next important chapter. Because under all that rudeness sam had, he really was obsessed with his little dude.

“Alright, man,” he said, looking down at Vinnie. “This is the deal. No more diapers. We’re doing big-boy stuff now..Time for you to learn already” leaning down, he set the potty down in the bathroom like it was more than just a basic thing. He did it with care, some rare gentleness. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the counter, and sighed, acting completely uninterested.

As soon as Vincent's eyes landed on the object, his face lit up like Christmas morning. “POOH!!” he gasped, clapping his hands. “Pooh sit!!”

“That’s - you sit,” Sam corrected automatically. “You sit.”

Vinnie nodded very seriously in union. “I sit.” With that, Sam helped him tug his diaper down, plopped him gently onto the tiny seat, and stepped back like he’d just completed a something great.

“There. Easy.." he muttered before continuing "so..uh..you do your business man, like we talked. You know, pee and..the second worse thing..just..uh, human stuff"

But soon after that, the bathroom filled with this awkward, echoing silence. Sam shifted his weight from one leg to another, keeping an eye on vincent but at the same time not wanting to make him feel pressured. He had no idea how to do it. No idea what to even say. After all, he did have a, mentioned just moments ago, talk on the importance of using the potty, on how he'd become a big boy - a phrase Sam notoriously used on Vinnie to make him do things..

Thankfully it was Vinnie who looked up at him suddenly, eyes big and shiny, and broke the silence.“Thammy?”

“What.”

“Handie.”

Sam blinked in confusion. “What?”

Vinnie held out his tiny hand, fingers opening and closing slowly. “Hold handie.”

Sam recoiled like he’d been attacked, like he just witnessed something disgusting “Bro--no,” he scoffed. “Absolutely not. You’re--how old are you now? Like, thirty?” At that Vinnie’s lip pushed out just a little. Sam groaned. “Okay--okay, don’t--don’t do that.” With a sigh of a man walking toward his execution, he wrapped his much bigger hand around Vinnie’s little one. It disappeared completely in Sam’s grip

“There,” Sam muttered. “Happy?”

Vinnie smiled instantly, causing the dimples to pop out. “Yes,” he whispered.

Yet the thing about silence, it comes back..Sam stared at the wall. At the towel rack. Anywhere but at the situation unfolding beside him. “So,” he said finally, because the quiet was making his skin crawl, “uh… how’s life, man?”

Vinnie blinked at him. Then answered, very sincerely. “Good.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah? That’s good.”

“Snackie latew” Vinnie added thoughtfully.

“Yeah, probably..” he then added, as if remembering what the whole thing was about "Alright man, just go into the business. Its already getting weird..just, you know, do it as if you were wearing another diaper"

As if on clue, Vinnie squeezed Sam’s hand suddenly. Surprising Sam of how tight the squeeze was. His face scrunched up, blonde brows furrowed, the button nose wrinkled. Just entire body went stiff with concentration, like now it was very important to achieve this new problem.

Sam froze. He hadn't really expected Vinnie to follow his teachings. Damn, he hadn't really expected vinnie to even give a shit. He thought they'd just sit there, do nothing, talk nonsense on how winnie the pooh was the greatest bedtime story, and try next day.

“…Are you--”

Vinnie squeezed his hand again and whispered, very earnestly, “I twyin’.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed “I can see that..probably too much but..”

But before he could even finish the sentence, the boy looked up at Sam, eyes bright, face shining with proudness. “I did it.”

Sam stared at him in disbelief, like the whole thing was too good to be true “…You did?”

Vinnie nodded. “Pooh happy.”

Sam looked down at the potty. Then back at his son. Then he exhaled a shaky laugh, rubbing his face with his free hand, as the situation at hand just clicked in his brain

“Oh my god,” he muttered. “You actually did it.”

Vinnie beamed. “I big boy.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, squeezing his hand back without even thinking about it. “Yeah, you are.” He helped him down, cleaned him up, and when it was all over --when the moment passed and the crisis was contained -- Vinnie leaned back into Sam’s leg, wrapping both arms around his calf in a spontaneous hug.

“Tank oo, Thammy.”

Sam looked down at him before ruffling his curls gently, as a sense of proudness bloomed in his chest “…Anytime, man.”