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persephone-writes · 6 months

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On the Streets of Coruscant: Part Two

Obi-Wan x Fem!Reader

Read Part One (posted on my old account @persephone-writes2)

Obi-Wan image by ObmanBalagan on pinterest

Description: Over a decade after their spontaneous stroll around the Plaza, Y/N is working as an aide to Senator Amidala. When the Senator is placed under the protection of two Jedi after an assassination attempt, Y/N is reunited with the now Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Word Count: 9.7k

Warnings & Tags: canon typical violence/the assassination attempts of Padme (mentioned only), mild discussions of low self esteem, reader specifically does *not* have children, probably a crap ton of grammatical errors, lots of Y/N usage, fluff, kissing, happy ending!

Notes: Sooo, full warning, I hate this, but I'm posting it anyway! This takes place during Attack of the Clones, so I had to change a few things around to fit in the reader (some things just happen because I said so lol) This also means that I HAD to include Jar Jar. I attempted at writing dialogue for him but I just couldn't bring myself to, so I tried my best to just have him barely be there lmao. Also, mullet obi-wan is top tier and I will die on that hill

Y/N clicked away on her holopad, attempting to get through the pile of work that had been dumped on her that morning. While her job was always demanding, and sometimes overwhelming, this was the busiest she had been in a long time. With Senator Amidala set to arrive on Coruscant today amidst an increasingly intense political climate, Y/N was tasked with taking what seemed like hundreds of messages, thoroughly organizing and answering every one. While Padmé had an array of other aides to help her, Y/N was the head of her office on Coruscant, leaving her with the majority of the responsibility when she was on-planet, besides that of Dormé.

Despite her spinning head, Y/N adored her job, as well as Senator Amidala. She had worked in a variety of low level positions for different Senators, many of which were not nearly as kind. No matter how much pressure she faced, Padmé never spoke harshly or berated those who worked for her. Y/N couldn’t imagine how exhausting it must be to represent an entire planet, all while keeping up a professional appearance. Outside of her office, Padmé had to seem relaxed, dignified, and confident no matter what she was up against. At least Y/N didn’t have to face the wrath of the public or the argumentative nature of the Senate. Always tucked away inside the office, Y/N could plug away at her work without the eyes of thousands upon her at any given time.

Another aide knocked on the door of the office before entering, peeking his head in.

“The Senator is landing.”

“Thank you,” Y/N replied, frantically pulling up the most urgent messages in preparation. The aide hurried away down the hall, the door closing behind him. After a few minutes, a guard came running down the hall, opening the door abruptly. Y/N jumped at the sudden intrusion, growing fearful when she saw the look on his face.

“The Senator’s ship has been attacked,” the guard said, a bit out of breath. Y/N felt her stomach drop, dread rushing through her.

“Is she alright?” Y/N asked, voice desperate. Before he could answer, Captain Typho pushed past him, leading Padmé into the room. Her face was contorted in sadness and confusion, obviously still in shock. She wasn’t wearing her usual attire, dressed identically to Typho in a dark turtleneck and leather vest. She immediately sat down in one of the chairs, head hung low.

A wave of relief came over Y/N knowing Padmé was okay. She immediately rushed to her, kneeling down beside her chair.

“Milady, are you alright?” Padmé only nodded. Y/N looked up at Captain Typho, who was pacing around the room. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he said, eyes darting around in thought. “Someone bombed the ship.”

For a moment, Y/N stared out into space, swallowing thickly before she stood.

“Milady,” Typho began, to which Padmé lifted her head, “We must get you somewhere safer.”

She nodded, standing up and taking a deep breath. Her composure was regained, and Y/N marveled at the speed to which she recovered from such a terrifying incident. She turned to Y/N, eyes determined.

“Y/N, send me all the necessary documents for the vote,” she paused, turning to Typho, “We shall go to my apartment.”

“Yes, milady,” Y/N answered. Typho then led Padmé from the room, Y/N immediately returning to her desk to get to work once again.

A few hours later, Y/N received a message from the Captain that she would be meeting with the Chancellor and would not be returning to the Senate today. Further, Y/N was to meet Padmé at her apartment to discuss a series of negotiation plans which Y/N had been organizing. Y/N was no stranger to working in the Senator’s apartment, having done so on many late nights when Padmé refused to get some rest. However, it had never been under such circumstances.

Later in the afternoon, Padmé’s team sent a transport for her along with a guard. Y/N thought it was overkill, as no one was after a random aide, but she didn’t make too much of a fuss about it. No one could stop Padmé from worrying about her team, especially after some of them likely died in the attack. As the transport flew through the busy city, Y/N peered out of the window, wondering who could have been behind the explosion. Padmé had many adversaries, though it surprised Y/N that any one of them would attempt to assassinate her. The Separatist movement had uprooted nearly every system, turning the Senate into more of a battle ground than ever before. Even so, war had not broken out yet, and all Y/N could do was hope that it wouldn’t resort to that.

Pulling up to the apartment, Y/N was escorted by the guard all the way up the glass turbolift, exposed to the city. Stepping in, she remembered the first time she had been called here, unable to pull her eyes away from the city growing smaller as she ascended.

As the turbolift doors opened, she immediately heard the happy voice of Jar Jar Binks. While she thought it strange for someone to be excited at a time like this, it was hard to tamper Jar Jar’s spirits. The guard led her into the apartment, where she saw Padmé sitting on one of the long sofas. She was clothed her usual fashion, hair in an updo, wearing a wide skirt dress with long flowing sleeves. Although Padmé looked good in almost anything, it was a small relief to see her back to her normal self. Captain Typho was standing a few feet away, with Dormé sitting beside Padmé. On the sofa opposite sat two men who Y/N instantly recognized as Jedi. Working for the Senate, Y/N had seen her fair share of Jedi over the years, though their presence usually didn’t bring good news. Of course, today wasn’t the day for good news anyhow.

Padmé stopped speaking, spotting Y/N as she walked into the room. She turned to smile at her, which Y/N returned easily. The other’s followed Padmé’s gaze, and Y/N grew a bit nervous at the attention. Her eyes went to the two Jedi, now given a clear view of their faces. The one sitting closest had short, cropped brown hair and the braid of a padawan falling across his shoulder. He appeared slightly annoyed, and Y/N wondered if she had intruded upon an important conversation she was not meant to be a part of. Her gaze drifted to the other Jedi, whose hair was on the longer side and a light copper in color. His beard was short and neatly trimmed, though there was still an air about him that was rugged, ever so slightly ruffled. After her brief first impression, the realization hit Y/N with a full, intense force. Her heart sped up significantly as she thought back to over ten years ago when she had met a Jedi at a nightclub.

Before Y/N could make any sort of reaction, Padmé stood, followed by the others.

“Y/N,” she said kindly, walking over to greet her.

“Senator,” Y/N said in return, bowing.

Jar Jar happily pranced over and shook Y/N’s hand, telling her it was nice to see her again. Y/N chuckled at his enthusiasm before turning back to Padmé.

“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his padawn, Anakin Skywalker,” she introduced. Y/N was forced to look at the two Jedi, feeling heat rush up her spine and into her face. She had no idea if she should acknowledge that they knew each other, or pretend they were strangers. Obi-Wan reached out his hand to shake hers, a small, polite smile on his lips. She took it wearily, forcing herself to make eye contact. It was easier to shake the padawan’s hand, who only nodded at her.

Now that she was closer to Obi-Wan, she stole a look at him from the corner of her eye. He was just as handsome as he was when they first met, perhaps even more handsome. His face was not boyish as it had been, now more mature, his features stronger and more pronounced. The buzz that once existed all around him was settled, but not completely gone. Remnants of it remained in his eyes, which still held their playful shine. Suddenly, Y/N grew self conscious of her appearance. She was older than she had been, no longer the young girl she once was. It was hard for her to know how different she truly looked, as she had watched herself slowly age over many years. Her clothes as well were more mature, or rather refined. She realized that Obi-Wan had only seen her in her party clothes, never something professional, clean-cut, more simple. Her rapid thoughts were interrupted by Padmé, who went on to introduce her.

“This is Y/N L/N, my leading aide on Coruscant,” Padmé said. Obi-Wan let out a small laugh at her words, earning a confused look from Padmé. His laugh was a bit deeper than it was all those years ago, but it held the same lightness and ease.

“We’ve met,” he said, accent still smooth, “a long time ago.”

Y/N smiled sheepishly, knowing that Obi-Wan was looking at her face. Padmé appeared pleasantly surprised, Anakin raising his brows at his Master.

“You have?” Padmé asked, smiling at Y/N.

Y/N nodded, trying to think of what to say. Obi-Wan saved her, speaking before anyone could ask questions.

“I was still a padawan then,” Obi-Wan said, light hearted without giving anything away. Anakin looked suspiciously towards Y/N, but wiped his face quickly when she noticed.

“This is the day of reacquaintance,” Padmé said, pleased with the surprise. Y/N gave her a confused look, and she laughed a bit, realizing her mistake. “I met Master Kenobi and Anakin ten years ago, when I was Queen.”

Y/N nodded. “I see,” was all she could think to say.

“You must excuse us,” Padmé began, “We have much work to do.”

“It was lovely to meet you,” Y/N said to Anakin. She then looked to Obi-Wan, mind reeling. “And it’s nice to see you again.” She then left to follow Padmé and Dormé, cheeks burning.

Y/N spent the afternoon into the evening with Padmé and Dormé, going over documents and discussing her next moves. Y/N did most of the clerical work, leaving the politics to Padmé and Dormé, who knew the ins and outs. Although Y/N had picked up a lot, she still felt overwhelmed by the current climate and all its complexities. The whole time, she was hyper aware that Obi-Wan was in the other room, doing who knows what.

As the evening fell, Padmé excused Y/N, asking her to return tomorrow morning. She was thankful, as the eventful day had her tired, as surely Padmé was as well. At least she knew that Padmé would take it easy for the rest of the night, forgoing any further work until morning. Exiting the room, holopad in hand, Y/N saw Anakin and Obi-Wan talking on the balcony. She hoped they wouldn’t notice her, allowing her to slip out quietly, though the chances of this were likely slim. In all honesty, she had no idea how she would handle being so close to Obi-Wan for the foreseeable future, unable to acknowledge the circumstance of their last meeting and pretending as if they hadn’t gone on a romantic escapade.

Perhaps feeling her eyes upon his back, Anakin turned, catching Y/N staring. To her surprise, he gave her a small smile, which she anxiously returned before whipping her head forward. She walked quickly to the turbolift, hoping that somehow Obi-Wan would remain ignorant of her growing uncertainty.

Her alarm blared and she hastily reached over to turn off the cacophony of noise. She laid in bed for a quiet moment, still groggy but remembering the events of the day prior. She groaned upon the realization that she’d be forced to face Obi-Wan, all with the intent not to embarrass herself. She envied his even manner which gave nothing away, not letting anyone know of their odd history. As she pondered over this, she felt a pang in her heart at the thought that Obi-Wan was completely unaffected by her presence. Yes, Y/N had a series of relationships since her single, solitary kiss with Obi-Wan, but that didn’t take away from the fact that she was entirely unprepared to ever see him again. Until now, Obi-Wan was a fleeting yet meaningful moment in her life, one which Y/N would look back on every once in a while with an immature sadness. The thought of him, someone who was so kind, so bright, so considerate, unable to form any romantic attachments, was poignant to say the least. When this kind of thinking arose, she’d kick herself for giving it the time of day. You only met him once, you only kissed once, what's the big deal?

Y/N got ready for the day with the intent of forgetting about Obi-Wan, focusing on the far more pressing matters. Today would likely consist of setting up calls with many different Senators, some of which would want to discuss the recent attack, others who would simply want to argue about the motion to create an army. Further, Y/N had no clue how long Senator Amidala would stay on-planet, so she would have to get to organizing all she could before she was off somewhere else. As she brushed her teeth, Y/N stared at her reflection in the mirror, paying far too much attention to how she looked. Just as she had sworn off thinking about Obi-Wan, the image of herself brought back feelings of insecurity. She couldn’t stop herself from wondering what Obi-Wan thought when he first saw her again, thinking that perhaps his placidity came from the fact that he no longer found her attractive. Although she tried to brush the thought of him away, she didn’t stop herself from putting on her best work-appropriate outfit.

In a kind gesture, Padmé sent a speeder to pick Y/N up from her apartment, again accompanied by a guard. She made small talk with him on the way to Padmé’s in an aim to calm her nerves, which despite all her efforts still bubbled beneath the surface. When Y/N arrived, she saw Padmé and Dormé sitting opposite each other in the seating area, multiple holopads and projections on the table between them. Off to the side, Obi-Wan and Anakin stood, Anakin seeming on guard and brewing with energy. Padmé looked up from her work, waving Y/N over to sit with them.

“There was another attack,” Padmé said, voice even and calculated, “I’m leaving for Naboo tomorrow.”

“Why not today, milady?” Y/N asked, full of concern.

“I must leave on an unregistered transport, it will take some time to organize,” Padmé explained. Seeing Y/N’s worries, she placed a hand on her shoulder for reassurance. “I will be alright, Anakin will be with me.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a bit better. She wondered why Obi-Wan would not be joining her, though didn’t ask.

“In the meantime, we must get as much done as we can. I doubt I will be able to work much in hiding.”

With that, they all got to work. Y/N was mostly silent, leaving Dormé and Padmé to talk over the majority of her decisions. Padmé received a warm call from Senator Organa, who extended any help to her that he could offer. Y/N never had the chance to work under him, though she expected it would be much like working for Padmé. To Y/N, they seemed to be the only two honest and truly kind politicians in the galaxy, setting them in stark contrast to the increasingly unscrupulous nature of the Senate at large. Amidst the growing chaos, Y/N hardly paid attention to the two Jedi guarding the apartment.

Some time that morning, Padmé decided to move to a different room which housed a large table so that they could spread out more. Y/N was off to the side, plugging away as usual, happy that her responsibilities seemed mild in comparison to Padmé and Dormé’s.

Y/N hadn’t even noticed that they had worked well into midday, brought up from her work when Dormé suggested they break for a short lunch. They were all left with a little free time, as it would take a bit for the chef to prepare their meals. That was one thing Y/N loved about working at Padmé’s apartment; the chef. Padmé and Dormé left the room as Y/N finished the last few sentences of her address to another Senatorial aide, sighed deeply as she sent it along.

Walking into the main living space, she found Padmé standing beside one of the long floor to ceiling windows speaking to Anakin. Padmé’s smile was calm, and for the first time in a while she seemed genuinely relieved. If Y/N didn't know better, it looked as though Padmé and Anakin were close, long time friends, used to seeing one another. Her eyes were taken away from the pair, drifting to Obi-Wan who was pouring over something on his holopad. He too appeared incredibly natural, though tense in the shoulders. If it weren’t for his robes, he could've been just another aide hard at work.

Y/N lazily walked over to the balcony, pushing open the large glass doors and feeling the cool air of Coruscant brush against her face. She sighed with contentment, taking in the view of the city from such a great height. It wasn’t often that she was so high like this, nearly above the clouds. It was as close to peaceful as she’s had in a while, not since her last visit to Corellia several years ago. A few minutes passed, Y/N’s mind wandering to the various tasks which still needed to be done before Padmé left for Naboo.

She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind her. She glanced back, expecting to see Dormé or perhaps Padmé, only to find that it was Obi-Wan. Her heart rate picked up as she took in his regal appearance, robes tidy and neatly tucked. He smiled softly as if to ask permission to join her. She returned it the best she could, trying to push her nerves down. He came up beside her near the railing and looked out, sighing to himself. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to peek at him, fearful that her emotions would too clearly show upon her face.

“I’m glad to see you working in the profession you wanted,” Obi-Wan said, voice abundantly friendly, yet somewhat professional in nature. Y/N bravely glanced at him with a kind expression, genuinely pleased that he remembered.

“Yes, I am too,” she paused, realizing that unlike before, it wouldn’t be awkward to mention his profession. “And now you’re a Master, with a padawan of your own. Congratulations,” she said honestly.

He chuckled, “Thank you.” Obi-Wan shifted his weight to one foot, turning to look at her profile. “Truly, I am pleased to see you again.”

“I’m a bit surprised you remembered me,” she let slip, growing a bit more comfortable with the exchange. Her teasing earned another small chuckle from him.

“I don’t easily forget,” was all he said in return, leaning an elbow on the railing.

Y/N fully turned towards him, met with the same face she saw that night in the club as they both stood at the bar. Now, his jaw was partially obscured by a beard. She thought it suited him, as did his longer hair. She wanted to tell him so, but decided against it, not wanting to break what felt like a fragile moment.

“I’ve since visited Corellia,” Obi-Wan began again, tone still light.

Y/N smiled at him, brows slightly raised. “You did?”

“Yes, though as you might expect, I was occupied most of the time. However, it did not disappoint.”

Y/N realized he was very much still the same, though perhaps more subtle in his cheekiness.

“I’ve been back as well, though only a few times. It’s still as boring as I remembered,” she joked.

“Now, I am sure you are longing for boredom as well.”

Something electric shot through her with his words, reminding her more and more of that night. It appeared as though Obi-Wan did not lie; he does not easily forget. A small seed of innocent, foolish hope made its way into her heart. Had he thought about me since then, as I did him? She quickly reprimanded herself, shaking her head to clear the thought away.

“You’re right,” she sighed, “For the Senator’s sake rather than mine.”

Obi-Wan paused, not replying for a moment. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from wondering what was going on inside his mind, which puzzle pieces he was trying to fit together. She had no clue who was attempting to assassinate Padmé, too many possibilities floating around to grasp. However, she was sure Obi-Wan had a much better idea than herself.

“It’s a tricky business we both are in, though all things important are difficult.”

Once again, she was infatuated with his wisdom, which had only grown.

“I bet you are a wonderful master to Anakin.”

He took the compliment well, not as bashful as he once was. “Thank you, Y/N,” he said her name warmly, resurfacing a slurry of emotions she didn’t know still existed. All at once she felt ten years younger, enraptured with her name said in his accent, in his voice.

“I mean it, really. I could hardly imagine trying to lead someone, teach them what I know. The whole thought of it makes me feel like I know nothing,” she was letting more and more of her feelings slip, far more than she originally intended. This morning, she had vowed to be wholly professional, to focus on the job she had to do, not to get caught up in buried emotions. However, there was something about Obi-Wan’s presence that made her too free with her words. It was the same way over ten years ago, where she found herself spilling her guts to an almost stranger. If he stuck around any longer, one of these days she might just get herself into real trouble.

“I’m sure you could, if given the chance. It takes courage to come to a new place, to build a new life. That is something you know far more about than I.” There he went again, melting her from the inside out.

“Perhaps, and I’d have to bet I’d beat you in a typing contest,” she jested.

Obi-Wan let out a hearty laugh, unconstricted and full, “I believe you are right.”

The conversation lulled, with Y/N unsure what to say. Her guards were still up, despite the fact that they were steadily lowering against her will. She wondered how much she could get away with addressing, which facts were off limits and which were okay to mention. Obi-Wan seemed to be perfectly comfortable with speaking about everything but the kiss, though she didn’t want to push her luck.

She settled on something simple, something pertaining to the here and now. “I’m happy Anakin will accompany the Senator, I’m sure she will be safe in his presence.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, glancing down for a moment. “His eagerness often worries me, though it may serve him well with his task,” Obi-Wan said.

“A product of youth,” she commented, amused at the thought of Obi-Wan having to deal with the antics of a young man. She thought that perhaps once, Obi-Wan had done the same to his Master.

“Unavoidable, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan replied effortlessly, turning to look at her face once again. She felt bare under his gaze, as if he could see through her every shield, each mask she wore.

“I’m sure with your guidance he will grow into an exemplary Jedi. I don’t think you could mold him into anything less.” Her flattery was not lost on Obi-Wan, whose ardent smile felt like a flowering bruise, a reminder of his oxymoronic, sweet rejection.

“Your faith in me surpasses that of myself,” he retorted frivolously, making Y/N chuckle. After a pause, Obi-Wan spoke again, “How long have you worked for Senator Amidala?”

Y/N thought for a moment, adding up the years in her head. “About four years now. I hope to work for her as long as she’ll let me. She is by far the kindest boss I’ve ever had,” she laughed a bit with the thought of begging Padmé to let her stay, offering to do anything but go back to working with the other Senators.

Obi-Wan smiled to himself, eyes darting around the skyline. “She is a rarity, no doubt.”

“I’m sure you have worked with a fair few Senators. You must know how…difficult they can be.”

Obi-Wan chuckled with a sigh, seeming surprised by her admission. “Yes, I know what you mean.”

Without thinking, Y/N said what was on her mind, letting it pass through her filters as if it were a smuggler, “I’m glad you have not lost your sense of humor.”

“I need it to deal with Anakin,” he joked, now his turn to surprise Y/N.

She couldn’t stop herself from giggling girlishly, placing a hand over her mouth. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, seeing a mildly devilish look on his face.

“Your sharp tongue must get you into trouble sometimes,” she teased, pushing the limits a bit further.

Obi-Wan tilted his head a bit, shrugging slightly. “It only appears amongst friends.”

Friends. The word danced around her head, bouncing all the way to her chest, pulsing against her heartbeat. She thought that perhaps he was humoring her, throwing her a bone. He couldn’t possibly think of her as a friend, could he? Technically, they’ve only known each other a total of three days, which was far too soon to be friends. Acquaintances, yes. Friends? No. While Y/N struggled with the idea that he might just be indulging her, she was suddenly reminded of a detail of their first encounter, one which she played over and over in her head the days following: I should not have allowed myself such an indulgence.

Obi-Wan glanced back through the glass door, then back to Y/N, who didn’t notice his staring. “Do you still see those whom I met that night?” he asked.

It took a second for Y/N to understand what he meant, remembering he probably never got their names. “Oh, yes, I do. Well, some of them. I still see Ripp, whose father owned the club.”

Obi-Wan nodded, chuckling to himself, “They seemed like a lively bunch.”

Y/N laughed, thinking back to the times they had together while in school. “Yes, they were. Thankfully, we are all doing quite well for ourselves now.”

“I’d say so,” Obi-Wan said genuinely, eyes soft.

Y/N looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “Did you ever find that man?”

“I believe we did,” it sounded almost like a question, as if he wasn’t quite sure.

Y/N wanted to comment on the fact that he had told her he doesn’t forget things, but thought that it might come out wrong. Instead, she focused on the vast expanse of skyscrapers and traffic in front of her. She could sense Obi-Wan looking at her profile, resurfacing her nerves.

“You have not lost your wonder,” he said gently, almost a whisper. Suddenly, she could not stop herself from looking at him, met with his tender expression. His words confused her, throwing her off the delicate footing she had found herself on. Her mind raced with endless possibilities, attempting to decide what he expected her to do, what he wanted her to say in return.

With her breath caught in her throat, she said the only thing that came to mind, “Neither have you.”

He smiled, the kind of smile that seemed too intimate for their odd relationship. Y/N felt honored to have been on the receiving end of such a smile, especially from Obi-Wan. The gesture made her weak, pathetically chasing another look like that, completely insatiable. Amending her earlier thought, Y/N decided that if he stuck around, her truthfulness would not be the only thing to get her in trouble. It seemed as though there were a million things Obi-Wan could get her to do or say with a simple look towards her or a single suggestion. It wasn’t because he was charming or persuasive, or even because he was handsome. No, it was because he listened to her so intently, spoke to her so kindly, and seemed to remember insignificant details from a night which occurred so long ago.

Y/N fought the urge to reach out and touch this cheek, or at least his arm. She yearned to feel something which solidified his presence in front of her, anything to tell her he was real and not a ghost conjured up from her memory. His eyes would have to do for now, sparkling against the midday light, so beautiful Y/N couldn’t possibly have dreamt them.

“I envy your opinion of me,” Obi-Wan said, still soft but with an air of jest, “But I feel you may be wrong.”

She shook her head instantly, bewildered by his statement. She wondered how he could possibly think that about himself, while at the same time saying such kind things about herself.

He laughed quietly, taking his eyes from her. Mourning the loss of their clear blue color, Y/N stayed staring at face, wanting to soak up every second she had with him on the balcony, where everything seemed simple.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” she countered.

He glanced at her with a playful smirk. “For a moment I thought you had grown a bit more shy, but I see that I was wrong.”

She chuckled, feeling embarrassed by his words. Her whole body was burning hot, despite the high altitude breeze that came whipping past.

“I’ve just learned when to hold my tongue,” she joked, relaxing a bit as the intensity of the moment began to lift.

“I only wish Anakn had your skills,” he sounded serious, but Y/N could tell he was joking by his upturned lips and the crinkle on the corners of his eyes. His sarcasm was new, though it did not feel unnatural, for his wit had always been sharp as a blade. Y/N giggled to herself, thinking of Obi-Wan talking to his padawan, pestering him with father-like nagging.

“Something amusing?” Obi-Wan teased, though played it off as if it was a genuine question.

She shook her head. “No, no,” she faltered for a moment, chuckling to herself, “Are all Jedi as funny as you?”

Obi-Wan sighed as if to think it over, “Perhaps, if you get to know them.” As Y/N was beginning to get caught up in his hidden meaning, he spoke again, “Are all Senatorial aides as diligent as yourself?”

His question caught her a bit off guard, and she wondered if he had peeked into the room and seen her working. The idea sent butterflies soaring in her belly.

“No,” she laughed, “But it’s easy to be devoted when Senator Amidala is leading you.”

“You think quite highly of her,” Obi-Wan said a bit curiously.

“Yes,” she answered without thought, “I do.”

“I know how much of a gift it can be to be led by such an admirable example,” Obi-Wan said, voice a bit far off.

“You’re thinking of your master?” she asked hesitantly, hoping not to overstep her bounds. Obi-Wan nodded, though his smile had faded. His eyes, too, were not as bright as they were before. “I’m sorry, if you don’t want to talk about it-” she rambled, fearing the worst.

Obi-Wan gave her a sad smile, but his face soon turned neutral. “It’s quite alright. He died many years ago,” he confessed. Y/N felt a devastating privilege to have received such an admission, surprised that he gave it so freely.

“Oh,” she said without thinking, “I’m so sorry, Obi-Wan. I didn’t know.”

“How could you,” he said, unperturbed, the sadness on his face all but washed away. She wondered where he got his resilience, so that she could get some for herself.

“He was a good man, and a fine Jedi,” Obi-Wan began again, sounding as if he was speaking only to himself. Y/N clung to every word, hanging on tightly to anything he chose to tell her. “Though he was a bit more like Anakin than myself.”

Y/N smiled, which soon turned into a grin when Obi-Wan gave her a mischievous sideways glance. “Just think of it as practice.”

“Yes,” he chuckled, pausing for a moment, “I was lucky to have him, as I am lucky to have Anakin as my padawan,” his tone was deeply warm and full of love.

Y/N couldn’t believe that he so readily told her about his life in this way, how openly he shared small, intimate details. While his words alone were not particularly notable, the way he said them told her that he was bearing little pieces of his innermost world. She wondered how many people were lucky enough to see him like this, punishing herself for assuming that she was special in some way. Perhaps he was always this open, this unfettered in conversation. Regardless, she craved a deeper look, even if it was just a peek like a sliver of light coming through a slightly open door.

After her internal gushing over Obi-Wan’s divulgence, she noticed him looking somewhat hesitant. It was the first time he faltered since their reintroduction, his expression seeming foreign and unlike his usual self, although Y/N couldn’t deny that she wasn’t the leading expert on the matter. She cocked her head, flashing him a confused look.

“What?” she asked, clueless as to what he was thinking.

He looked down reticently, quickly bringing his eyes back to hers without any shyness. “Do you have children of your own?” he said it innocently, as if he wasn’t nervous at all.

Thinking perhaps she had misread his expression, Y/N laughed a bit at the question, “No, I do not.”

“Then you are free of that particular headache,” he chuckled, and Y/N laughed along.

“I can barely take care of myself,” she joked.

“You doubt yourself far too often,” Obi-Wan paused, watching her face, “and ignore how far you have come.”

His kindness spread through her like the tranquil waters of Corellia she used to swim in during the summer months, waves falling in a steady ebb and flow. She sighed, staring at her hands which rested on the railing. What could she possibly say to him, what words could express what she felt while also concealing the attraction which had begun to float to the surface?

Before she could think of a reply, Dormé opened the door, causing each of them to turn.

“Our meal is ready,” she said with a small smile.

“Thank you, Dormé,” Y/N replied, heading back into the apartment with Obi-Wan following behind. Padmé was already sitting at the table, along with Anakin. Y/N and Dormé sat down opposite the pair.

“Join us, Obi-Wan,” Padmé offered.

Obi-Wan looked a bit hesitant. “I’ll keep guard, milady,” he said, walking over to the entrance near the turbolift.

“Captain Typho is on watch,” Padmé insisted, “Please, come eat.”

Obi-Wan sighed, giving in quickly to Padmé’s request. He took a seat beside Anakin, directly in front of Y/N. She grew a bit nervous, forced to face him directly, but her attention was diverted as the meals were placed on the table.

“So, how did you two meet?” Padmé asked Obi-Wan and Y/N, beginning to tuck into her food. Y/N should have known the question was coming, but she was a bit bewildered nonetheless. Her mouth opened to answer, but she was at a loss for words.

“I was on a small mission here in Coruscant,” Obi-Wan began cooly, “Y/N was kind enough to offer a bit of help.”

Anakin smirked to himself as Padmé looked towards Y/N, unaware that she was currently fighting off jitters. Y/N nodded, knowing that she should speak.

“He was looking for someone, but I was no help,” she said in an even tone, picking at her meal.

“Surely something must have happened,” Anakin commented, a bit of mockery in his voice, “How else would you remember each other?”

Obi-Wan smiled, completely nonchalant. Y/N was left wondering how nervous she truly looked, hoping she was playing it as well as Obi-Wan, but seriously doubting her abilities.

“If I am remembering correctly, a friend of yours knew the man that I was searching for,” he answered, taking a bite.

“Yes,” she said with a breath, regaining her composure, “His father had kicked him out of the club some time before.”

“The club?” Anakin asked with a raised brow, a smirk playing upon his lips. Realizing her mistake, Y/N felt heat creep up her cheeks. Padmé laughed a bit, though Y/N could not tell if it was due to her reaction or Anakins.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan clipped, side-eyeing his padawan, “You’re no stranger to them.”

Obi-Wan’s jab did not seem to affect Anakin, who looked rather pleased with himself. Y/N focused on her food, not wanting to face the eyes which were surly looking at her. Normally, she wouldn’t be embarrassed if people knew she went to clubs, especially in her younger years. However, there was something off about mentioning it in front of a Senator and two Jedi. It felt as though she had admitted to committing a strange sort of crime.

“What an odd string of fate,” Padmé said pleasantly, smiling at the others. “It is not often that we are reunited with such fleeting acquaintanceships in a city this large.”

“You are right, milady,” Obi-Wan said, seemingly unbothered by the whole ordeal.

“Yes, it is quite funny,” Y/N forced herself to say, fearing that her silence may enact suspicion.

Thankfully, no one brought it up for the rest of the meal. At first they discussed politics, though soon Obi-Wan went on to share a few stories of missions he and Anakin had gone on over the years. Y/N listened with interest, holding onto every word. Obi-Wan was an excellent storyteller, she realized, finding herself content just to hear his voice. When the meal was finished, Padmé and Dormé went to discuss the details of the plan with Obi-Wan, excusing themselves to speak privately in another room. Y/N was left with Anakin, who was to keep watch while Obi-Wan was occupied.

With her holopad in the other room, Y/N was left to kill time on her own. She walked over to the large windows, watching the speeders fly past, criss-crossing lanes along the skyline. She soon began to worry about Padmé, wishing that whoever was behind the attacks would somehow slip up and reveal themselves. It was a futile hope, but there was nothing else she could do. So deep in thought, she did not hear Anakin coming up to stand beside her.

His voice came without warning, “I have a feeling there is more to you than meets the eye.”

She jumped, placing a hand on her chest as her head whipped around to see him. He chuckled at her unease, and she gave him a weary smile. However, it soon left when she processed his words.

“What do you mean?” she asked, still a bit fretful from the scare.

He let out a slow chuckle, looking out the window instead of at her. “I know my master well, better than most. Which means I know when he is concealing the truth.”

She inhaled shakily, her hands coming together, fingers winding around with nervousness. Something in her face or tone must have slipped during lunch, letting Anakin in on her secret. She bit her lip, wondering what to say and how to deny it.

He smirked, eyeing her steadily. “Something else happened.”

She shook her head, deciding to act as if she had no clue what he was talking about. “No, it really is as simple as what he said.”

Anakin laughed again, “You are a terrible liar.”

She wanted to groan, knowing it was fruitless to play ignorant. She decided on a new game plan: tell him as little as it takes to satisfy his curiosity.

“Fine,” she surrendered, wavering a bit, “I bought him a drink. A single drink.”

Anakin stared at her, spurring her on. As she gave her a resolute look back, he raised his brows. “You know I know that's not all.”

She faltered, feeling his provocation pulling her towards his will. Unwisely, she had thought her admission would be enough for him.

“I promise not to tell my Master,” he offered.

After a long pause, she gave in, knowing he would not easily let the matter go. “We got talking, just small talk. I asked him if he’d ever been around Coruscant while he’s not working, and he said no, and I…” she trailed off, scared that she would reveal too much if she went any further.

Anakin’s eyes lit at the confession, and he let out a happy sigh. “You see, I knew my Master wasn’t as good of a padawan as he says he was,” he laughed, “He’s probably reeling, worrying that I would find out.”

She shot him an angry look, afraid that he would tell Obi-Wan of her indiscretion. Anakin rolled his eyes, waving a hand in her direction.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell, even though I want to,” he drawled, looking proud that he had gotten the secret from her. He crossed his arms over his chest, standing tall. Y/N would have been infuriated if her embarrassment wasn’t so strong. While Y/N overthought their interaction, running it over in her head until the words sounded foreign, Anakin strolled off as if nothing had happened.

She was left a bit stunned until Padmé, Dormé, and Obi-Wan emerged from the room. Obi-Wan went over to Anakin, telling him that he would have to leave. He sounded quite urgent, but his composure did not waiver. Anakin only nodded, and with that Obi-Wan left without a goodbye. Usually so polite, Y/N guessed that the matter likely pertained to the assassination attempts, which had doubled over the course of a single day.

Padmé walked over to Y/N, calm and collected as she always was.

“Y/N, you are free to go back to the Senate,” her voice was tenacious, strong-willed as always.

Y/N nodded. “Yes, milady. Would you be needing anything else from me before I leave?”

“No, that's alright,” Padmé answered with a smile, “I’m not sure when I will be in contact with you next, so give all messages to Jar Jar, who will be representing me in my absence.”

Y/N bowed, going over to her workspace to collect her things. She had a feeling Padmé would be getting ready to depart tomorrow, and it was safer for her to have Y/N know as little as possible. She was already a bit surprised they let her know that Padmé would be leaving Coruscant, though she had been working with her for some time. Y/N was warmed by the thought that the Senator trusted her so much, feeling a bit proud of the work she had done thus far.

Y/N returned to the Senate to get the rest of her work completed, not even realizing that she might never see Obi-Wan again until the end of the day. When the thought came, a wave of sadness drifted all around her, especially since she hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye. In spite of all her efforts, she felt the same as she did over a decade ago, sitting on the bench in the Plaza as Obi-Wan faded into the crowd. It was stupid, foolish, and entirely immature, but her mind could not release its hook from their conversation on the balcony. She went over every word, every expression, each twitch of the lips. Instead of pushing the memory away as she should, she held it tighter, embracing it with open arms. It only appears amongst friends. You have not lost your wonder. You doubt yourself far too often, and ignore how far you have come. I don’t easily forget, I don’t easily forget, I don’t easily forget. It was if his words were echoing around the empty office, fading out into space only to begin once more. The letters rolled on top of each other, spinning into a melodious song sung in his pleasant voice.

As she left work, she walked slowly down the wide corridors of the Senate building, arms limp at her sides. A haze of melancholy enveloped every step, dulling the click of her shoes against the polished stone floor. During the taxi ride home, she looked out of the window like she always did, following the lines of the buildings with her eyes, locking onto a particular point until it was lost in her peripheral. The noise of the city outside was dulled in her ears, as if she was listening underwater. She thought of Obi-Wan, his copper hair, his aquamarine eyes, then dismissed it, back and forth into oblivion. She told herself it was not by fate that they met again, that his words were simply friendly and meant nothing, though her efforts were in vain. Every irrational bone in her body overpowered her feeble attempts to break them or expose their falsehoods. It was a losing battle, so she pushed it off as best she could, telling the soldiers it could wait until morning.

Her head pounded to the beat of the alarm clock like a punishment for the day before. Turning off the vexatious beeping, she headed straight for the ‘fresher to take some pills for the pain. She shook her head at herself in the mirror, tsking her half-witted hope that somehow Obi-Wan would fall for her again. Even if he did happen to feel the same, he was older now, not so impulsive. He’d never let the past repeat itself. Y/N had to remind herself that she was an adult now too, that she would have to get over her childish infatuation and move on. It wasn’t as if she’d never dated anyone since then. They were never quite like him, though.

In order to regain some sense of normalcy, she went about her routine in the same way she always did. When it was time to dress, she found herself staring into her closet at all the clothes she had hanging there, her nice outfit piled in the hamper. She chuckled at her ridiculous decision to wear what she did the day before, somehow thinking that it was important to look nice for a man she could never have.

The taxi ride to the Senate was longer than usual, traffic congested but thankfully never completely stalled. It was only a few hours into the day and already it was turning out awful, though Y/N’s patience was thin to start out with. Unlike the previous evening, she walked quickly through the Senate to her office, giving the people she passed a cordial, but somewhat frigid smile. She didn’t know if she’d be able to get through the pleasantries of “how are you?” or “nice to see you again”, thinking it better just to get to her office and hole up there until she was ready to go back home. On the bright side, today her mind would remain busy with work, unable to muse over other things.

Only a few people popped into the office that morning, mostly for a quick word and nothing more. It was a blessing that everyone was incredibly swamped as well, unable to take any down time to chat. Every once in a while, when Y/N wondered if Padmé was off planet yet, or something came in mentioning the assassination, she was practically forced into thinking about Obi-Wan. With how much he was likely occupied, she thought it would be highly improbable that he was thinking of her at all, even in passing. His work was important, far more important than her own, demanding diligent, careful attention. Despite these small reminders of him, they did not stick around like they had last night, remaining fleeting and pulled from her mind when she looked back at her holopad.

It was the afternoon, the sun over its peak, slowly descending over the city. A ray shined through the curtainless window, specks of dust revealed in the air which looked almost like falling snow. Deep in thought, Y/N jumped as the door wooshed open, her head shooting up from the holopad. As she looked at the door, her breath caught in her throat, making it feel as though she had forgotten how to breathe. There in her office, Obi-Wan was standing, his brown robe skimming the floor, eyes wide as if he was surprised by his own entrance. Y/N stood abruptly, her chair pushing out behind her and bumping the wall.

“Obi-Wan,” she said in shock, or perhaps as a question. He took a step into the room, then went to take another, though stopped in his tracks.

“Y/N, I,” he paused, swallowing, “I never got a chance to say goodbye. I’m leaving now, and I am unsure as to when I will return.”

“Oh,” was all she could muster, still paralyzed and unmoving.

He looked down for a moment, hands clasped together. “It’s been a pleasure,” he said with a small smile. She didn’t return it, still too stunned to do anything but stare at him. Obi-Wan promptly turned and left, the door closing behind him.

She just stood there, her thoughts a thousand miles high. She questioned if Obi-Wan had really just come into the office or if it was a figment of her imagination, created by her night-long mulling over of the day before. Her breaths remained shallow as her thoughts caught up to themselves, their summersaults ending with a finale of fireworks erupting between her ears. She was baffled by his entrance, completely unaware of his motives. Gradually, all else dropped away but her need to find Obi-Wan, to ask him if had really come back only to say goodbye, or if he had something else to say. Her mind willed her legs to move, but they stayed still, frozen in time.

“Come on,” she whispered to herself, not hearing her own voice, “run.”

With that her body finally obeyed, and she rushed to the door, huffing as she pressed the button to open it. Her feet carried her flying down the hall, not noticing the people who stopped to stare at her along the way. She skirted around every corner, the white walls and metal doors a single blur like the swipe of a wide paintbrush. When she came upon the exit to the landing platforms, it was as if the wide door was encased in the glowing light of a new sun, calling her to come through to the other side. Thankfully, the door was motion censored, saving her the precious few seconds that would be needed to open it. As she emerged, the sun shined in her eyes, and she placed a hand on her forehead as a shield. Frantically, she looked around for Obi-Wan, scanning every ship for movement, only to find every ship near to her vacant.

In the distance, she saw the loading ramp of a ship descend, euphoric at the sight of Obi-Wan’s brown robe. She began running towards him, sprinting faster as she saw him beginning to board. Fearing that she would be too late, she called out his name. Obi-Wan's face was hidden within the ship, though she could see him stop. He looked down and saw her, though Y/N wasn’t close enough to tell the details of his expression. As she neared, the realization of what she was doing set in, bringing about a wave of uncertainty. However, it washed away when she saw Obi-Wan’s face.

She stood at the base of the ramp, panting from her impromptu workout. She locked her eyes with Obi-Wan’s, which were soft, brilliantly gleaming as they stared across her face. Her once racing mind was all but empty, filled only with the serene happiness of having caught Obi-Wan before he took off. Neither she or Obi-Wan said a word, though he smiled thoughtfully like he had a secret. Stars, he must think I’m some kind of crazy person.

Despite her lack of shame or uneasiness, she fumbled with her words, not knowing how to express what she wanted to.

“I,” she began, a doting smile beginning to peek through, “I feel like this is completely foolish,” she paused, bringing her hands up to her face for a moment, “Stars, I just can’t let you leave without telling you.”

“Tell me what?” he murmured, his smile growing slightly more noticeable.

Her gaze drifted from his, overwhelmed by her boiling face and heart which was beating so fast she ought to be concerned. Even though she had thought about doing this all last night, running over what she would say and what she would do, the reality of it was unfamiliar territory. She was flying blind, attempting to find anything that could point her in the right direction.

Finding a bit of courage left, she glanced back into her eyes, crystal blue and clear. Within them she saw something new, the knowledge of what he was thinking in this very moment. Without another word or thought, she leapt up the ramp towards him, following all the instincts she had at her disposal. Throwing her arms around his neck, she crashed her lips to his, a sparkling fuzz running down her spine and into her limbs. Much differently than last time, Obi-Wan did not hesitate to return her kiss, falling into it along with her. He held her body to his, pulling her a bit off of the floor and fully into his embrace. Their lips moved as if they had kissed a thousand times, synchronized in each other's affection. She felt the tickle of his beard against her cheek, his hands gripping her waist tighter as she gasped.

Breathless, she pulled away, only enough to suck in a gulp of much needed hair. Obi-Wan did the same, breath uneven and shaky as if he had just been in battle. Y/N stared into his eyes, watching as their surprise settled into something else, something tender. A blush had formed upon his cheeks, peeking out from his beard and dotting across his nose. The rush in her ears was gone, replaced by the low hum of the ship and the soft sound of her hands upon his robes. She held him tighter, dreading the moment when she would finally have to let go.

“Will I see you later?” she asked, not bothering to disguise her pleading and desperate tone. She didn’t know what she was expecting him to do, but his wide grin pleasantly surprised her.

“Yes,” he said with a long exhale, studying her face. She grew warm with the attention, even though they had just done much more than look at each other. Something about his gaze was always so intense, more passionate than she could easily handle. It was as if flustering her came naturally to him, like he was born to make her shy.

Finally, he slowly set her down, and she relaxed her beskar-like grip she had on his shoulders. Her hands settled on his chest briefly before falling down at her sides, already missing his touch. She was unsure what to say, but as usual, Obi-Wan was not at a similar loss for words.

“Perhaps it is the absence, but you’ve grown even more beautiful,” the fondness of his voice did not escape her, bringing about a buzzing feeling in her stomach.

She felt her knees nearly buckle, growing impossibly weak at his words. With them, all her fears and worries about herself subsided, and she felt like the most beautiful person in the galaxy. Forcing herself not to look down at her feet, she gave Obi-Wan a sickly sweet smile, agonized by how much she cared for him in so little time. He was smiling as well, pleased by her total disarmament. She longed to tell him how handsome he was, how well he had grown into himself, but she felt the time quickly slipping away. Knowing he needed to leave soon, she stepped back, still grinning ear to ear. She bit her lip, giddy with the reemergence of her clandestine romance, now with the promise that Obi-Wan wasn’t gone for good.

“Be safe,” she said softly, making her way partly down the ramp. Obi-Wan chuckled, looking self assured as he stood in the entrance of his ship.

“I always am,” he answered, voice smooth and warm like Gatalentian tea.

Mustering up every bit of her willpower she had, Y/N turned and walked down the ramp and into the landing platform. The ramp closed behind her, and she rushed off near the entrance of the Senate building. She watched as the ship powered up, rising into the air before zooming away all too quickly. It was bitter to watch him leave, though their parting felt parsecs different than the last time. From all she knew about him, Obi-Wan was not in the habit of lying, and her chances of seeing him again were close to certain. With his ship out of sight, Y/N dreamily walked back into the Senate, feeling light as a feather.

#obi wan x reader #obi wan/reader #star wars x reader #Obi Wan Kenobi x reader #star wars prequels #Obi Wan Kenobi/reader #star wars fluff #obi wan fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction

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plainbageltoastedwithbutter · 4 months

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caerus (god of opportunity and luck) headcanons since my oc is his kid

youngest child of zeus

I imagine him as a mix of apollo and loki

not a good father, he's there but disappears quickly just as opportunity does

If his kids ever try to reason with him he'll probably just say "not the right time, not convinent" as an excuse

in his more modern form he has a curly mullet

wears leather clothing with wings on the back (daryl dixon who?)

caerus cabin hcs

surprisingly most caerus children get along with tyche along with her kids (caerus and tyche are together)

caerus kids don't have any real powers like demeter or hades kids, they're more like athena kids where they have an affinity for knowing when to do the right thing at the right time.

almost like a bell goes off in their heads, they can 'sense' an opportunity coming along and willingly take it

caerus kids are good with ranged weapons, like archery, throwing knives, slingshots, etc

caerus will sometimes gift his kids an object that helps with luck or the ability of flight. for example, my oc has a magical mini balance scale ⚖️ one side means no, the other yes. when asked a question it will weigh to the best possible decision.

caerus kids unfortunately experience a lot of near death experiences, they somehow survive when they shouldn't have

whether it was their father secretly helping them or just their luck, who knows

even before getting claimed, it is common for a caerus kid to have survived a car or airplane accident

others might encounter a monster and make it out last minute or even killing it

but when a caerus child does end up dying, it is very tragic for all involved.

caerus is secretly devastated, knowing that there was nothing he could have done because their luck has worn out

...moving on, this might make caerus cabin with the highest surviving half-blood children

when claimed, a mini winged balance scale icon appears above their head, for a couple of hours they have imaginary wings and flowing hair. like how water makes your hair kinda float

caerus kids are known to have "wise eyes", flowing hair, curious birthmarks that form shape of wings

caerus kids get along with, tyche cabin, athena cabin (they share a common thirst of knowledge), apollo cabin (their affinity for archery), hermes cabin

cabin headcanons

their cabin is painted white with windows and shutters on each side. on the door there is two wings and a scale carved in.

for the interior, it is mostly spacious with a few living spaces for campers to play chess, cards, etc in

in the center there is a massive pillar that is designed to look like a scale which holds up the ceiling.

the cabin basically looks like a white styled casino along with some grandma country vibes

they have a mini library and storage to keep any weapons or magical items

since caerus doesn't have too many kids, campers sleep in large twin beds while the counselors sleep in queen beds. each bed has their own bedside drawer, a small closet along with retractable curtains for privacy and such.

there is also neon white lights on the wall directing to the bathroom or mini kitchen, etc

that's it!! this was rlly fun, if I should do more comment down a god(goddess) I should do next (preferably a minor god)

#percy jackson headcanons #pjo headcanon #pjo #percy jackson #caerus #greek gods #minor gods #headcanons #camphalfblood

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ucetheones · 7 months

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A Peek Through Time | FTM! Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley x Dominik Mysterio

Gif credit: @samijey 🖤

Jon remembers the day Josh tearfully came out to him and Joe, demanding with tears in his eyes that they no longer call him "Jayla". He remembers his twin shaking like a leaf when he told them she/her pronouns felt wrong and dirty.

At fourteen, Josh lacked the proper terminology to express what they now know as Dysphoria.

Jon accepted his brother's words with ease, some part of him had always known his sister was never really his sister. All their lives Josh had always been one of the guys.

She (he, Jon's brain corrected) played all manner of sports, and would do anything to avoid being forced into a frilly dress. All in all, it made sense to Jon that his twin sister was actually his twin brother.

Joe had taken the confession with less grace than Jon, but he hadn't been rude or nasty to Josh, so that was a slight win.

Coming out to the rest of their family was difficult enough, their mom tried to hide her discomfort, and the saddened expression that threatened to overtake her features, but she remained pleasant as always.

Their father was outright against it, wasting no time in berating Josh for foolish thoughts and sinful behaviors.

"You're a girl, Jayla. My daughter will not parade around town and embarrass her family."

There was a threat of kicking him out after that comment, one Jon remembers playing over in his head whenever he sees their father even after years have gone by and Josh no longer lived under their dad's roof.

The second he and Josh turned eighteen, his twin brother was dead set on moving out, and he had, only a few weeks into adulthood.

It was an odd adjustment, but going to see Josh at his apartment with Joe had become a daily occurrence, until college got in the way, and they rarely had the chance to see their youngest counterpart through anything other than a video chat with Josh's camera cut off, or blurry selfies sent on-the-go.

Jon supposes it's his own fault he never sees his brother, after all he and Joe chose a different school.

Seeing Josh in person for the first time in months, almost a year if he was honest, was startling in the best way. He'd cut his hair into a mullet, styled so his curls were the main focus. He'd bulked up considerably, the cropped tee-shirt that adorned his body had the sleeves cut off; giving a clear view of all this twin's hard work.

There was a lot of ink covering his arms, something Jon was slightly envious of.

But the biggest, most noticeable difference was the facial hair, because Josh had always spoken in a deeper voice, as children he had the raspiest voice in their family, and that hadn't changed as adults.

Which is probably why Jon never caught on to just how much his voice dropped.

It wasn't half as shocking as the hair covering his brother's face, though.

Josh should've been unrecognizable, but it was honestly like looking in a mirror for the first time in their lives. They'd always been twins, but there was never any concrete proof as far as looks were concerned. They'd always looked alike, but now? Now they were nearly identical, the only major difference being their smiles and hair styles.

Joe is the first to embrace his cousin, patting him on the back with a wide grin on his lips.

"You look good, man!"

He was visibly proud, like he was the one who sculpted Josh into what the world saw now. Like it wasn't all of Josh's handwork on display.

Jon can tell Josh is proud of how he looks now, long gone are the hunched shoulders, arms crossed over his chest and the frown everyone thought might've become permanent.

"You must be livin' in the gym, Uce. The hell kinda' regimen you got?"

Jon almost surprises himself when he speaks, but Josh once again beats him to the punch.

His twin's laugh is light and airy, yet just as deep as his voice,

"As much as I'd like to brag, all this?" He gestures to himself, "Is Rhea and Dominik's work. Wakin' my ass up at four am, talkin' bout some "It'll be fun, come on, babe. We'll get wafflehouse after!" News flash, it's not fun, and it never will be."

He sounds annoyed, but fond as he complains, but all Jon can focus on are the names he doesn't know. Are they Josh's friends? Is he dating one of them? He doesn't even know if Josh is straight or not.

Joe's laughter cuts through Jon's thoughts, and he's quickly trying to find his place in the conversation.

Apparently, Joe had bitten the bullet and asked Josh who Rhea and Dominik were.

Josh's eyes almost lit up at the question, and he wasted not a breath before he was telling his brother and cousin about his girlfriend and his boyfriend.

It was weird, in truth, but his twin was happy so what was the harm?

Josh, Rhea and Dominik were tight-knit, rarely did you see one of them without the others. Whatever was happening between this was authentic and unyielding.

Until their relationship was imploding, for reasons Jon still doesn't know even though the four year relationship ended under his roof.

Over the course of a few weeks, Josh changed into a more closed off version of himself, though he still worked out religiously, and wrestled in small circuits with his brother and cousin, he no longer had the same motivation. Jon thought it was understandable, one break up was rough. But two? He couldn't begin to understand how drained his brother must've been feeling on a daily basis. Especially since they all worked together at varying points in their training.

One day, things seemed to be going well enough, again. Josh was branching out and finding new friends, and having new experiences.

He, Rhea and Dominik had somehow patched things up, and were on the verge of mending their once broken relationship.

And the next…the next day, Josh wasn't breathing, or moving and Jon was sobbing. Hysterically.

Rhea was staring blankly ahead, her eyes squinting into the darkness, like Josh's bleeding body wasn't currently at their feet, but she was crying.

Dominik was on his knees, trying to put pressure on the stab wound, his hands shaking.

With some coaxing from Dominik, Rhea finally finds her footing and gently shoves him aside to take his place in tending to their boyfriend. Her first-aid skills far exceeded any of theirs.

Joe was on the phone with 911, attempting to explain that his cousin wasn't breathing, was bleeding profusely, and they weren't sure if he had a pulse because everyone was too keyed up, even Rhea who realistically should've been able to with practiced ease. It was impossible to check when your hands shook viciously.

After that, nothing was the same. Nothing could ever be the same. Because Josh almost died, and they still aren't sure why the person who attacked him did what they did.

The doctors aren't sure how Josh made such a quick recovery, but he had.

During his brief recovery, Josh had met with surgeons to arrange everything for top surgery, the final step for him at the moment, as far as his transition went. He hadn't wanted bottom surgery, and had been on testosterone for a few years already, so top surgery was his end all be all. At least for now.

It had taken a couple more years for Josh, Jon, Joe, Rhea and Dominik to debut in WWE, but when they finally did? It was their biggest dream finally coming to fruition.

Josh debuted as the first male trans wrestler on the main roster, which easily made him the guy to root for. The pop he got any time his music hit was unreal, and sometimes Jon wondered how his twin managed the almost immediate popularity, because with it came a butt load of hate. But, Josh was happier than ever before, so Jon didn't question it too much.

Somehow, Rhea and Dominik ended up being paired together, alongside Finn Balor and Damian Priest, whilst Josh, who now went by Jey, for work purposes, was off in a faction with his twin brother, and cousin. Their baby brother would soon be joining them on the main roster, and it was all truly coming together.

Or it did for a few years, before the company scripted The Bloodline's implosion, and carted a newly liberated Jey Uso to Monday Night Raw, sans Jimmy, Roman or Solo.

For the first time, Jey should've been alone, fending for himself, but being favored by the higher-ups was nothing if not a blessing, because one mention of possibly being paired up with The Judgement Day to Triple H, and Jey was being thrust into a storyline with his girlfriend and boyfriend.

Along the way, Jimmy too gets swept up in Judgement Day antics, though where Jey actually joins, Jimmy only occasionally tags along, offering support in silent ways. Like helping them win matches when the faction crosses over to Smackdown for the week, or handling a problem for them should one arise and none of the actual members can be present.

When the storyline of Jey and Rhea getting together begins, the fans are immediately under the assumption he and Dominik would end up at odds, they're split on who to root for.

Things on screen are tense between The Mysterio and The Uso for a couple weeks, before things come to a head and Rhea, being Rhea, puts them both in their places. She doesn't choose one of them, and says as much, leaving the WWE Universe in instant shambles, but then she's choosing both of them.

There's confusion from everyone, even some feigned confusion from both Dominik and Jey, before Dominik is smirking and blowing a kiss to the man, causing him to burst into laughter.

Again, the fans are lost, unknowing of what goes on beyond kayfabe, or that they'd ultimately broken it for a second, but it all seems to be the best choice, because the faction proceeds to blow up in ways no one thought possible.

Jon is proud of his brother, he truly is. He got to watch as his twin quite literally grew into the best man around, whilst simultaneously shaking things up in the field of wrestling at its very core. From being the first trans male wrestler on the main roster, to being in the first openly poly relationship in WWE, Josh was absolutely changing the foundation of all Jon and his family had known for decades. And while some were definitely against it, Jon, Joe and the people who mattered, were all for it.

Josh was happier than words could say, so who could find fault in that?

#jey uso #jey uso fanfiction #queer jey uso #trans jey uso #angst #wwe #jimmy uso #dominik mysterio #rhea ripley #jey uso x dominik mysterio #jey uso x rhea ripley #roman reigns #mentions of transphobia #Jey Dom and Rhea are the same age for the sake of the fic #And debuted at similar times #the judgement day #the bloodline #Mentions of a stabbing and blood #me shipping jey w happiness (aka rhea and dom tbh)

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uniquecellest · 3 months

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This is for my Klance people:

AU idea for when Allura becomes a Paladin. Lance has been dealing with his insecurities and spot on the team for a while before Allura became a Paladin and Lance always thought of taking a break from Voltron but never did until Allura. One night he tells the others that he's been having thoughts of just taking a break (Keith is not present). Pidge and Hunk try and get Lance to stay but Shiro interrupts saying that everyone has their own moments of rest and for Lance it's now until he's ready to come back in which the others will be waiting for him.

Lance leaves early the next morning, as everyone has already said their goodbyes (ne Keith because no one informed him). So at first Keith thinks Lance is just in his room in a depressive episode and goes to cheer him up only to find Lance nowhere in the Castle of Lions. It's then that Shiro realizes what happened and informs Keith, which ticks Keith off more that Lance told everyone but him.

Now here are two ways I can see it diverge:

1) with a small space pod from the Castle, Lance makes it back to Earth and (after the extreme quarantine) goes back to his piloting classes and even beats James and ends up becoming a protégé to Adam for MFE's. The two talk, and Adam helps Lance deal with being on Earth while the ones he cares about are in space. Then the Galra invade and Sendak remembers Lance from his time as Paladin and kidnaps him as bait for the others (Sendak also kidnaps Adam, Veronica, Rachel, Lisa, Marco, Luis, Nadia and Sylvio to bait Lance); so when the others find out the Earth has been invaded it stresses them out even more. When they get to base Sanda informs them that Lance's family that was captured along with Adam are considered dead. When inquired about it, Sanda shows them a video they received earlier that day of Lance being alive but any videos about Adam and Lance's family have stopped coming as quick as Lance got captured, which has been months with Colleen and Sam trying to think of ways to save them.

The Paladins still get on the ship with being captured themselves and Sanda still betraying them. Eventually they get free and who's shooting at them? Lance. Clearly, they think, he's under some mind control. Until he calls Keith mullet. Lance informs them that he has to do this. He has to fight his friends. Which Hunk, Allura, and Pidge are not happy about and are ready to fight. Even Shiro can't believe what he hears. Then they hear young children crying. The voices calling out to Lance that they're scared. Lance says he's got them. That he'll protect them until the end.

That's when it dawns on them that Lance is working with/for Sendak for his family (in which Sendak is hospitable - as he can be - to Lance's family so Lance doesn't turn on him and angering the other Paladins more). Sendak calls Lance back to him. Lance leaves a key for the other Paladins to get his family and Adam out. Once they're off the ship, Lance starts fighting Sendak and when Keith goes back to Lance because they can't leave him behind, the ship explodes. Lance didn't die though, his Paladin armor got some upgrades that's to Sam and survived the explosion.

Once they're all down on the ground the group celebrates.

Bonus: once the celebration of the Galra being gone and they survived Adam and Keith call out to Shiro and Lance respectfully in which Shiro and Lance look at each other due to the furry in Adam and Keith's eyes. Those two run, because Adam definitely was the one to teach Keith how to fight and Shiro never won in hand-to-hand combat with Adam. Ever. Or even verbal combat. Keith confronts Lance on leaving and not telling him. Keith doesn't have an issue with the fact he told everyone, he just wants to know why he was excluded. Lance admitted that his feelings for Keith at the time were being weird and he didn't know what was going on and he did want to tell Keith but with his confusing feelings he wasn't sure if telling Keith was the best idea. Lance then confesses that aside from their rivalry also being a friendship he was starting to see Keith in a romantic way and he wasn't sure if they were genuine or if it was because they were in space and Allura was the only girl - Lance considers Pidge a sibling so gross - so he needed time to clear his head. Keith inquires about Lance's current feelings for him, Lance admits that he does have romantic feelings for Keith still but he's going to start talking to someone so he can move on, leaving Keith confused so Lance informs him that he's sure that Keith, that he's sure Keith has no feelings for him whatsoever in which Keith tells Lance to shut up because yeah, Keith does love him and any minute that Lance wasn't there was torture and not knowing where or how he was was even worse and knowing Earht got invaded then Lance got captured to the brief moment that Keith thought Lance actually turned on them was worse than any hell could conjure up to torture him with.

Added bonus: Matt makes a comment about what Keith did in s4 ep 7 and Sam remarks when Adam was in his plane and nearly died and father and son remark how Adam and Keith did not seem to have a care in the moments leading up to their potential deaths so Shiro and Lance then and go scold their boyfriends for being idiots.

2) Lance still helps out in space but not in anything major to not overstep Voltron. He goes to some smaller planets/systems and typically stays for a few days after he's done helping sometimes a week. Eventually the other Paladins encounter him on a planet he's been staying on for the last several months, all the aliens on the planet are androgynous and hermaphroditic and there's this one person that Lance seems particularly close to. Keith has come to realize with Lance gone he loves him and vowed to tell him when he saw him next. But seeing him again and with a potential partner, Keith couldn't do that. Not to Lance or himself. So while Keith trains more to work off his jealousy so he can be around Lance and his partner. At some point Lance and Keith get to be alone and have a sunset moment and Keith, realizing how beautiful Lance looks in the setting sun, has to leave because if he doesn't he's going to ruin whatever little relationship he has with Lance. Lance gets irritated because Keith is running away, Keith remarks he's not the run who ran. Lance shoots back with what Keith have done had Lance not left? Besides Keith never voiced to anyone else about leaving Lance did. Lance took a break he wasn't leaving Voltron forever but for Keith, all their adventures without Lance felt like a lifetime. The two continue to argue to which leads them rolling down a hill and kissing. Keith is stiff. Lance is frozen. Both enjoy the kiss but don't know how to progress. Keith goes back to his room in the Castle trying to process everything because while he enjoyed the kiss he could've practically ruined a relationship, one Lance actually seemed genuinely happy in and ruined even his own relationship with the former Paladin.

Meanwhile Lance goes back to his best friend on the planet that Keith mistook for Lance's partner. The bsf freaks when they hear Lance and Keith kissed amd congratulates Lance only for Lance to stop them. Despite having enjoyed the kiss Keith most likely didn't because he ran off.

The next morning Lance is seeing his friends off. "Have you made your mind up about coming back with us?" Wonders Allura.

Keith's head snaps up. Eyes now focused on the former Blue Paladin. "You're.. . . . You're joining us again?"

"N-not this time. But I'm sure I'll be joining you guys again soon." With that everyone but Keith and Lance hug and say goodbye. Just days after Team Voltron leaves another alien species (not the Galra) invade as they have had rocky balance remaining peace between the two alien species. Lance gets into his former armor sending a distress signal that instantly goes to the Castle. However, something goes wrong so Team Voltron doesn't get the distress signal until months after so when they go back the planet is completely demolished. The kind species and Lance are nowhere to be found. Hunk is the one to find the piece of armor that Lance sent the signal with but there's no Lance. It looks as if there are no survivors. They then come across some guards from the invasive species that is keeping the kind one as slaves. The kicker? Lance is set to marry the heir to the throne to keep a peace between the two as he is a Paladin and to them a Paladin is as good as royalty. Everyone else tries to volunteer to take Lances place but since Lance offered first he is the one to be Wed. The only thing that can stop it is if they find a rare item (gem, flower, etc) that shows true love. It glows differently for different people. They go and find it. When Keith touches it is glows red and blue.

Meanwhile, Lance is in his own separate room from the heir having doubts. Yes, he came up and still plans on going through with the marriage however, he can't help but think of Keith when he pictures himself getting married. The heir uses magic to spy on Lance and sees Keith in his heart. Frustrated the heir slips a love potion into Lance's drink at dinner and Lance thinks he's been in love with heir this whole time. He gets excited to see his friends again and goes on and on about how fantastic the heir is. This crushes Keith. When Lance sees Keith holding the rare item he asks to hold it. It doesn't change. Team Voltron wants to stop the wedding but if their friend seems to be genuinely happy how can they? They don't want to seem selfish when Lance only asked for a break/space only to drag him back if he doesn't want to. Later, Hunk and Allura over hear the heir plotting to take out the kinder alien race which they want to put a stop to. In fear that the other members might find out their plot the heir grabs the others - Pidge from some of the techs, Coran with the cooks, Keith training with some of the fighters, and Shiro as he's just simply walking around - and throws them in a dungeon to prevent them from intervening at the wedding.

Cut to Lance with his bsf and the spare. They see the rare item and interested they ask to see it. That's when Lance notes it changing colors as his bsf and their lovers colors are a yellow-green color and lilac. That's when Lance gets informed of what the item really is. Taking it back, Lance goes to confront the heir. He asks the heir to hold the item. It goes from Lance's blue and red to pure obsidian - no room for any type of love in their heart. Lance is furious. Despite knowing that Keith is now his soul mate he's still under the love potion and still has love for the heir. The heir then makes Lance take the rest of the potion which makes him forget about everything and anyone else aside from the heir.

In their prison Team Voltron is frustrated in what to do. They need to escape but their cell is made up of lasers that could burn them easily if they try to escape. Keith doesn't care, even if Lance does genuinely care for the heir it's clear the heir does not return his feelings and wants to free Lance from a marriage that will eventually go down. Shiro has to stop him from being an idiot and getting hurt. Soon a sound similar to a bell chimes meaning that the first part prior to the actual ceremony for 'I do's' is about to start. Even if they were lucky enough to get out there was no way that they'd be able to make it to Lance in time. Just then the spare comes and sets them free with four speed bikes and they set off to the ceremony (Keith and the spare going at ungodly amount of speed).

In his room getting ready, Lance feels down and he doesn't know why; he loves the heir utterly and completely so why does it feel wrong? Because his friends and family aren't there? That's when his bsf talks about Keith. Lance is confused because why Keith? Yes they've gotten to a point of rivalry and friendship but why not bring up everyone else? Bsf then reminds Lance of everything Lance has ever mentioned about Keith. This infuriates Lance because if he ever did feel or Keith in the romantic way whatever happened to that? How did he stop and start falling for the heir? However, Lance starts feeling ill and that's when bsf realizes that Lance has been given a love potion and an exaggerous amount which his body is not handling well. Lance insists on going through with the wedding potion or no potion. At the altar, Team Voltron arrives just as the ceremony is getting started. Lance is happy to see his friends but they aren't happy to see the couple. Lance then starts hiccuping to the point that he passes out. The heir laughs and says that the only way Lance will wake is if the person his heart beats for kisses him. The heir looks smug as she taunts that Lance's heart only beats for them. The heir then kisses Lance on the lips which also solidifies their marriage. Lance doesn't wake, doesn't make a sound. The bsf, their lover, and most of Team Voltron looks at Keith. Keith kisses Lance's forehead begging for the former Paladin to wake up. Everything is still for a few moments, Keith thinking that the rare item got it wrong and that he and Lance aren't meant to be together. Lance then starts stirring and is confused about what is going on as the last thing he remembers is sending out the distress signal then offering the marriage of convenience. The heir is frustrated then starts telling the guards to take away the Paladins and start executing the kinder aliens. The spare then comes in and challenges the heir to a fight so the spare can take the throne. The heir laughs but accepts the challenge. The heir loses. In a irritated cry asks how the younger sibling what they plan to do with the other aliens. The now crowned heir remarks 'peace' and proposes to bsf.

Happy, Lance promises to come back for the big day. Which isn't that necessary since most things are already set up so they marry that day.

Afterwards, the two alien species start rebuilding the damaged planet with some guidance from Lance. As the Paladins get ready to say goodbye the newly wed couple starts saying goodbye to Lance, wondering if they could convince him to stay just a little bit longer. Keith, Pidge, and Hunk are confused that's when Lance reveals he's going with them again, if they don't mind. Pidge and Hunk tackle him to the ground happy to have their best friend/brother back. Lance informs them that he still doesn't remember much only offering the marriage: Shiro, Pidge and Hunk get a similar look on their faces as they know they're going to be teasing Keith for a l o n g time for the whole true love/soul mate thing. Keith gets irritated and starts chasing them to they can knock it off.

Later that evening when Lance is alone on the bridge he pulls out a small piece from the rare item still glowing red and blue, because Lance remembers most of what happened just not who kissed him. He decides to keep it to himself. Until he's sure both he and Keith are ready to talk about it. Shiro goes to the bridge and catches Lance with the piece. Lance then confides in Shiro most of what he's comfortable with (meaning the first drop of the love potion) Keith spots them and instead of joining starts eavesdropping. He hears them. That when Lance confesses to a gap in his memory of his bsf reminding him off all the things he said about Keith. And Shiro, like the big brother he is, calls Keith out for eavesdropping and forces the two alone together to talk.

Lance starts chasing Pidge and Hunk the next day for their teasing with Keith chases Shiro.

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 7 months

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About Me: Favorite TV Shows

I'm gonna be honest with all of you: I'm not much of a TV show guy. I'm just typically not one who likes sinking a lot of time into something unless it's a video game with a lot to do in it. This is why I review movies; they're typically the perfect length for my easily-distracted ass to take in.

But still, there are plenty of shows that have broken that rule and managed to keep me engaged and coming back for more. Some of these are favorites from my childhood, while some of these are more recent shows I finally decided to watch. It's a nice mix, but the main thing here is that all of these shows are something truly special to me considering I took the time to watch them all.

There's a few honorable mentions to go over. The four biggest ones are The Simpsons, South Park, Family Guy, and Rick & Morty. I love all four of these shows... for the most part. My issue with all of them is that despite having stretches that are some of the greatest ever in TV history, they also have huge chunks of absolute dogshit to the point it is debated to this day at which point the shows fell off, or if they even managed to get back on. And sure, every show has bad stretches, but with most of these shows being long running programs and all of them being massive cultural phenomena, it sticks out a lot more. Rick & Morty in particular was hit really bad by this. The reason these shows don't get on while I have other long runners with bad stretches on the list is simple: When these shows are bad, they're offensively bad. Like the middle seasons of SpongeBob are bad, but at least they don't have his giant sperms come to life and impregnate his sister's egg to create a giant incest baby or have an overly long sequence in which he vomits after finding out he fucked a trans woman.

Other honorable mentions include: Batman Beyond, Chowder, Catscratch, Codename: Kids Next Door, Fraggle Rock, Good Omens, Malcolm in the Middle, Heroes, Cardcaptor Sakura, Invader Zim, Ben 10, Gargoyles, and The Mandalorian.

30. Captain Planet and the Planeteers

I had to find a way to squeeze one "so bad it's good" show on the list, but how? Making a show that's pure camp is more difficult than making a movie like that... but they somehow found a way by giving us the adventures of racially diverse eco-warriors fighting against pollution with the held of an absolutely ripped planetary avatar with a green mullet who spouts an endless stream of cheesy puns and one-liners that would make even Schwarzenegger's Mr. Freeze take pause. Every time this show is on, you bet your ass I'm sitting down and watching; it's the most beautiful cheese there is.

29. Bluey

My wife and I caught this on TV during a Disney vacation and we ended up loving it! This turned out to be a blessing, because a while later we had our first kid and she's obsessed with the show (she's going as Bingo for Halloween this year). It's such a cute, charming children's show with relatable messages for both kids and parents, as well as a shockingly good score. It genuinely is one of the best pieces of children's media out there, much better than shlock like Cailou or Peppa Pig (are those shows even still on?).

28. Jackie Chan Adventures

Cartoons based on celebrities tend to suck balls, but maybe they were picking the wrong celebrities the whole time. Maybe instead of MC Hammer, they should have picked everyone's favorite homophobic, PETA-supporting Chinese nationalist action star, Jackie Chan! This show is literally the Saturday morning cartoon. It really had it all: Wild animated action, mystical artifacts acquired through Indiana Jones-esque adventures. all sorts of crazy monsters and supernatural entities, and memorable characters like my man Tohru, who walked so Prince Zuko could run.

27. Sailor Moon

I think everyone remembers their first anime, and this was mine. My mom loved the show, so I ended up watching it a lot back when it was airing on the early iterations of Toonami, and it has made me a lifelong magical girl fan. Maybe Cardcaptor Sakura and PPMM did that whole thing better, but neither show had Sailor Mars, my first anime crush. All that aside, the cheesiness and the sheer earnest power of love and friendship that managed to solve every problem is just peak fiction... I just wish it was nearly as good as the manga.

26. Green Eggs and Ham

If you told me way back when that someday there would be an adaptation of the Dr. Seuss book famous for containing a very limited number of words that expanded on the story, added drama, and threw in a villain who is a blatant spoof of former president and eternal idiot Donald Trump, I think I might have stared at you in utter confusion. And if you told me this show would actually be good, I'd be doubly confused. Thankfully, the show is really damn good, with an impressive cast and good humor that manages to capture the whimsy of the wubbulous world of Dr. Seuss perfectly.

25. Inhumanoids

I think everyone has a soft spot for an 80s toy commercial, but where most would pick Transformers, My Little Pony, or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, my favorite of the lot was this obscure gem of a show. It's such a fun introduction of horror and Lovecraftian abominations to a young audience, and a lot of it is still unsettling and dark to this day. D'Compose will eternally haunt my nightmares between that raspy voice and the gruesome transformations he inflicts on his victims. Good shit!

24. Danny Phantom

Forget that stupid fairy show, this right here is the best thing Butch Hartman ever put his name on. It's a loving tribute to comic book superheroes in the same way Ben 10 was, but I think this show is ever-so-slightly better due to its blend of supernatural and sci-fi working really well (and also it doesn't retcon all magic as being alien energy or whatever the fuck they did with Gwen in the sequel series). The only thing holding it back from a higher spot is how hilariously bad the finale is and the rather scattershot quality of the final season in general. Too many loose plot threads hanging for my taste.

23. The Boys

Seth Rogen has seemingly made it his mission in life to adapt all of Garth Ennis' work in a way that makes it not suck ass, and boy am I here for it. Adapting one of Garthy-boy's most repulsive and spiteful works and turning it into a genuinely great superhero show that satirizes celebrity culture instead of just taking a huge shit all over comic book superheroes was really the way to go, and watching Anthony Starr and Karl Urban command the screen every time they take center stage is a blast. Sure, it's still gory and lowbrow, but it's done in a way where it's honestly appealing as opposed to whatever the fuck Ennis was doing.

22. Mystery Science Theater 3000

I mean, it should be pretty obvious that I love this series, right? If you ever had the misfortune of watching a movie at home with me, you'd know I just do not shut the fuck up and spend a lot of the runtime either pointing out trivia or cracking jokes, and it's mostly because of being inspired by this show. It's also partly because I'm annoying, but that's neither here nor there.

21. Batman: The Animated Series

No fucking duh this is on the list. This is pretty much the definitive portrayal of Batman for a lot of people, one that truly encapsulates everything the character is all about. Kevin Conroy truly owned the titular role, as did his costar Mark Hamill when it came to the Joker, and as if that wasn't enough this is the show that spawned one of my favorite comic characters, Harley Quinn. There's no denying the impact this show has had on Batman as a franchise, but even beyond that it's just a damn good show with really good writing. I sure am glad one of the guys who made it never went and flushed all the good will he garnered from creating this by constantly having Bruce Wayne lust after one of his teenage proteges!

20. Courage the Cowardly Dog

This show is pretty well-regarded for how it showcased some truly weird and fucked up imagery, but I don’t think any of that would be as resonant without the moments of tenderness and heartfelt emotion, the genuinely amusing slapstick, or the often clever writing. When it comes to episodic shows, variety is king, and this show has that in spades.

19. The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy

This show seems to be an answer to a question no one asked: What if they made Family Guy for kids? The black comedy, the negative continuity, the numerous pop culture references, the grossout humor, the musical numbers… it probably wasn’t intentional, but it sure adds up. The biggest difference is that this show is way more consistent in quality and has Jeff the spider, making it the superior show by a mile.

18. Digimon Tamers

What do you get when you cross the silly monster battles of Digimon with the writing of the man who brought us Serial Experiments Lain and a heaping helping of Lovecraft? You get this show, of course! It’s darker and more psychological than the goofier seasons before it, and while normally I’d balk at a series shifting tone like this, since this was my first ever Digimon cartoon I watched from start to finish I embraced it with open arms. Hell, this show is probably where my love of psychological and allegorical horror came from. And of course the show gave me yet another childhood crush, and if you’ve read the Rhine City stories I co-author you’ll know exactly which character it was.

17. The Twilight Zone

The brilliance of this anthology series is just the incredibly wide range it has with the supernatural and sci-fi stories. Sometimes you’ll get a resonant and hard-hitting allegory on a social issue, and sometimes you’ll just get a cool, fucked up horror story where some evil little kid can warp reality and holds an entire town hostage to his maniacal whims. I’ve enjoyed every revival they’ve done over the years, but the Rod Serling original just can’t be beat.

16. Stranger Things

I’ll admit that it’s really the first and fourth seasons carrying this show to #16; seasons 2 and 3 are wildly uneven, with 3 in particular veering close to the shark-jumping ramp with its cartoonish Red Scare stereotypes. But even in the show’s weakest moments, the characters and how they interact with each other have managed to keep me invested. How can I be too mad at season 3 when it gave my boy Steve (the best character) a new BFF, Robin (the other best character)?

15. Elfen Lied

I think it’s easy to write this show off as overly gratuitous because, well, it is. Everything here is turned up to 11, from the gore and nudity to the drama and tragedy. I kind of feel the same way about this show as I do for V for Vendetta, where if they cut the crucial tragic backstory it would make the work as problematic as the haters say. But with Lucy’s heartbreaking backstory left intact, it definitely elevates the story into something greater. The manga is still (mostly) better, but I have to give the show credit for introducing it to me, and also cutting out the character who constantly pisses herself.

14. Smiling Friends

Sure, the wacky shitpost humor and the black comedy are great, but can we just stop and marvel at how uncynical the show is? The core concept is a cheerful optimist and a bitter realist work together in a business that helps people be happy, and despite all the hijinks they get into they typically end up succeeding in one way or another. In a world where so many adult animated shows seem to revel in pessimistic nihilism (cough Rick & Morty cough), it’s nice to see a comedy with similar humor but a more optimistic outlook.

13. Ed, Edd n Eddy

This is one of the absolute funniest shows ever, making great use of the cartoon world to pull off the most wacky slapstick you'll ever see. But I think what truly pushes this series this high is the absolutely fantastic sound effects and music it utilizes. Like, holy shit this show is on another level. It all goes a long way towards making up for the living sexual assault joke that is the Kanker sisters.

12. SpongeBob SqaurePants

This show dropped almost nothing but bangers for three seasons, gave us one of the best show-to-film adaptations of all time, generated a near endless supply of memes, and was generally just really fucking funny. And sure, it dipped in quality a bit in its middle seasons, but I think the first three to three four seasons are good enough that they can fuck up as much as they want.

11. Invincible

Gee Amazon, how come you get to have two of the best superhero shows around? Where The Boys is more of a straight deconstruction of superhero tropes, Invincible feels like something of a reconstruction. We still have an evil Superman and morally dubious good guys, but Invincible himself is utterly unyielding in his desire to be good to the point he manages to break down his evil father’s emotional walls and save the world (for the moment) simply by being a loving son. Unwavering goodness even in the face of genuine horror is badass as all hell.

10. Full Metal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Not to be a stereotypical weeb, but this show is simply a masterpiece. Now I will admit, the first half of the show was honestly done way better in the original series, and that one also had some interesting takes on some of the characters once it started diverging from the manga. But this series has a much better finale with way better character moments, with stuff like Envy's final fate hitting harder than anything the original show could muster. There's a reason anime fans suck this show's dick so much; it genuinely is that good.

9. A Series of Unfortunate Events

I’m sure I wasn’t the only one disappointed that the original movie never got a sequel, so my hopes were high going into the Netflix series. Needless to say, I ended up extremely impressed; considering how they managed to incorporate the VFD plotline from the very start instead of throwing it in later in the series, I might even go as far as to call it an improvement on the books. I think the most surprising thing here is that despite expecting NPH as Count Olaf to steal the show, it’s actually Patrick Warburton’s portrayal of Lemony Snicket himself that brings the whole show together.

8. Peacemaker

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I think this one speaks for itself.

7. Futurama

I love all of Matt Groening's shows, from the loose family sitcom shenanigans of The Simpsons to the great overarching plotline of Disenchanted. But it's really not surprising that the middle ground between tightly-plotted continuity and great humor is my favorite of his works. The best part of the show is no matter how many times it ends, it always comes back and finds new ways to bust your gut and tug at your heartstrings.

6. Gravity Falls

Disney has had many great TV shows in their time, but quite frankly nothing compares to this animated supernatural mystery series about a pair of twins having their summer vacation at a shitty scam shack. The episodes are mainly episodic with hints at the bigger lore, and it doesn't really ever feel like it's dragging its feet. It also didn't overstay its welcome, telling a fantastic story over the course of two seasons before gracefully bowing out while on top. Very few shows can say they ended in top form.

5. Jane the Virgin

One fine day I came home from work to find my wife watching this on Netflix. Curious, I sat down and watched it, not expecting much... and then proceeded to become so emotionally invested in the show I spent the rest of the series shouting at the screen as if the characters could hear me. It's sweet, funny, and absolutely ridiculous, a loving tribute to the telenovelas that inspired it, and a blessing unto this world for giving us the gift of Rogelio.

4. Avatar: The Last Airbender

Yeah, real bold and daring of me to say this is probably the best Western animated series ever, but it’s hard to deny that it’s true. With a rich world, excellent characters, and a strong story it’s to the point where the worst episode would be perfectly fine in any other show, and the best episode doesn’t even feature the titular Airbender at all. It’s just that good.

3. Breaking Bad

You know me, I love character studies of awful people, and few fictional villains are as awful as the egotistical meth manufacturer Walter White. Watching his rise and fall, the numerous moments where he goes further beyond the pale than before, is endlessly gripping, and the fantastic cast of characters helps keep things just as good even if we aren’t following Walt. Mike, Jesse, Gus, Skyler, the Salamancas, Hank, Saul… all of them are fantastic in their own right and could easily carry their own show. Speaking of which, about that last guy...

2. Better Call Saul

As much as I think Breaking Bad is objectively the greatest show ever, I prefer Better Call Saul. In hindsight, you can kind of tell Walter was bad from the start, but Jimmy “Saul Goodman” McGill? We watch him go from a morally dubious but ultimately well-intentioned man into the sleazy bastard he was in the original show, and it is genuinely heartbreaking. This show makes you truly dread the moment Jimmy fully becomes Saul, and considering how beloved the funny lawyer man was that is no small feat. The story of a good man falling from grace only to ultimately claw his way back to ultimately reclaim his humanity in the end… it’s beautiful.

1. JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

I don’t think I could possibly overstate the influence this series has had on me and my writing. The personalized superpowers, the meaningful names, the numerous musical references, the unashamed embracement of even the most ludicrous elements of the stories… If you read the Rhine City stuff you can clearly see where I’ve let the JJBA influence seep in. But even outside the influence, it’s just a damn good action/adventure series, with no part being truly bad (4 - 6 are my favorites, though). It’s never a dull moment watching what sort of insane feats the Joestar family and their allies will pull off against the increasingly deadly forces of evil; here’s hoping we get to see Steel Ball Run sooner than later.

#about me #tv shows #Youtube

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john-lennon-unofficial · 1 year

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i really appreciate how the black phone constructs a narrative in which children aren’t helpless things. not only that but they are far more resourceful, resilient, and knowledgeable than most, if not all, of the adults in the film. it’s cool to see that, as well as kids helping each other out (thanks again for getting me to watch this movie raya it fucking slaps). also i need you to tell me who your fav characters are and what parts of the movie you really lived in particular

AAAAAAAAAAAH OH MY GOD A BLACK PHONE ASK FROM ONE OF MY FAVORITE PEOPLE HIIII

okay, so. YES. I love how independent they made the kids (flashbacks to Gwen cussing the cops out) but they were still kids (flashbacks to gwen getting the belt) because that's actually how it is. ALSO i LOVE how accurate the relationships are between Finney and Bruce!!! like yeah he did school your ass in baseball but he didn't hold that over him and finney didn't take it personally its how the game is and that's how kids are !!! "your arm is mint! you almost had me" is the most realistic thing that would've been said!!! and it was honestly so weird how completely horrible all the adults were....so unhelpful. even Max (james Ransone) wasn't the best adult. yeah he literally cracked the code on where Finney was without psychic powers but the first thing he did was applaud himself for it. HE WASN'T EVEN OUT OF THE BASEMENT AND HE WAS LIKE "wanna hear the story of how I found you???" like no dude get me tf out of here first damn. and it was SO great to see (hear for finney) the kids help each other!!! even the mean curly mullet (I cannot remember his name I just hit my head) guy!!! WHO I LOVED THE MOST????? I LLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOVVVVEEEEEEEEE Gwen!!! she was the BEST and also that kid is an amazing actress???? 11/10 cant wait to see more of her stuff when shes older. ALSO just to clarify I know that Albert Shaw (the Grabber) is a r*pist p**ophile piece of shit and I'm only saying this because I am an Ethan Hawke fan. but the grabber I wouldn't say I loved....but I do honestly admire the writer (Joe Hill) for coming up with the character and it just makes me wonder what kind of stuff happened to him to make the grabber turn out in such a way....and it cant just be a mental thing because his brother is also a coke addict so....idk I just admire the way he was came up with. the concept. also Ethan Hawke could make a movie where he has two lines and I'd lose my mind (like in Glass Onion he had two lines and I fcking love him for that)

AND IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED THA MOVIE THANK YOU

edit: sorry!! parts of the movie I liked the most??? probably whenever Gwen prayed (it happened like twice but still) I think it really sent a message of how dependant you could be on one thing no matter how much it doesn't help you, and she only briefly thought god wasn't real,,,but quickly repented because she was raised on that....idk I just thought it was neat sjofhisguisbgf

#THANK YOU ASIA #SORRY TO RANT ITS JUST I'M SO HAPPY YOU LIKED IT #the grabber #black phone #asks :)

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peachycloudsworld · 2 years

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Guide to my AFTG stories!

Hello! I haven´t been active at all on tumblr but maybe that´ll change now that I wrote a few stories and am looking for new ideas or inspiration! Here´s a little guide that I´ll hopefully remember to keep updated with whatever l´ll write next :)

Please check the end notes of all stories before reading them, the topics will be listed :)

Paint me a picture of you

~ Chapters 8/8 (completed 2022-05-10)

~ 20.525 words

~ Neil/Andrew

~ Summary:

After spraining his wrist, Neil is off-court for four weeks. It doesn´t take long for him to start spiraling down. Luckily there´s Andrew and his new interest in painting to keep him afloat. Still, nightmares suck and his wrist is a constant reminder that the yakuza can take him out whenever they want.[Or: Neil has a bad couple of weeks and Andrew does whatever he can to take care of him.]

590%

~ Chapter 1/1 (completed 2022-04-19)

~ 2.187 words

~Neil/Andrew

~ Summary:

Neil gets a mullet. Andrew doesn't know how to act.

[Or: Andrew has one long gay panic over the course of two days before deciding what to do.]

~ Inspired by the incredible peachykun.art on instagram (Reference)

Show me your world, Oh brother

~ Chapter 1/1 (completed 2022-04-28)

~ 3.541 words

~ Aaron/Katelyn, Aaron & Andrew

~ Summary:

Aaron still has nightmares about the trial and everything that happened with Drake. Katelyn tries her best to be there for him. Andrew hates him, they talk, they don´t yell at each other- does that count as a success?

A Reason To Hold On

~ Series (4/4, completed 2022-10-22)

~ Summary:

AJ meets Margo and Andrew meets Neil.

They go from hating to tolerating to accepting to enjoying to needing each other.

AJ meets Margo (Part 1)

~ Chapter 1/1

~ 7.384 words

~ Summary:

Andrew has not always been Andrew the same way Neil has not always been Neil. When they meet as children, they are AJ and Margo, one in the foster system and one on the run. Help and trust is crucial for the both of them but when the ghosts of the past come too close, Neil has to make a choice: stay with Andrew and endanger him or leave the first friend he has ever had to keep him safe.

Andrew meets Neil (Part 2)

~ Chapters 2/2

~ 12.884 words

~ Summary:

Neil survived years of the run, his father and the FBI. The next step is a college degree in maths. With the help of Matt and Dan he feels like more of a person but then he meets an angry short man infront of Eden´s and everything goes downhill from there. Margo was never supposed to be more than a shadow of his past, one of his roles. But Andrew is determined to find out the truth.

The Thing About Cats

~ Chapters 3/3

~ 9.602 words

~ Summary:

From enemies to friends to roommates Andrew has to face two problems that could very well change his mundane, jobless life.

Problem number one: Neil desperately wants a cat.

Problem number two: Andrew has everything but negative feelings about his new roommate.

Everything´s well with Kevin Day

~ Chapters 8/8

~ 21,532 words

~ Summary:

Kevin is crashing, nobody knows why. But Andrew and Neil are determined to find out. There´s a lot of digging in the past and hating on dead people.

It was just a little fall

~ Chapter 1/1

~ 5,706 words

~ Summary:

Alternative title: Just a sprain (Nothing to worry about)

Neil slips and hides his injury for the sake of Exy (Andrew is not happy about it).

You didn´t come back

~ Chapter 1/1

~ 6,320 words

~ Summary:

Neil is back, scars barely healed and memories fresh. And yet it is not Neil who breaks. It´s Andrew.

Soundtrack

~ Series (ongoing)

~ Summary:

A collection of fics inspired by songs.

Fine

~ Chapter 1/1

~ 5,561 words

~ Summary:

An insight of Neil "I´m Fine" Josten, three times he´s struggling and one time Andrew helps him relax.

With you I´m less alone

~ Chapter 1/1

~ 3,079 words

~ Summary:

The anniversary of Riko is coming up and Jean reflects on his life so far. Jeremy is there to comfort him.

Feverish Minds

~ Chapter 1/1

~ 5,757 words

~ Summary:

Andrew comes down with a nasty cold which, considering the fact that covid is a very real thing, is unfortunate timing. Luckily Neil is there to keep a watchful eye.

I find comfort in your clothes

~ Chapter 1/1

~ 4,277 words

~ Summary:

Three times Neil steals clothes from the Foxes and one time he doesn´t have to steal.

Kevin Day appreciation hour

~ Series (ongoing)

Comfort Crowd

~ Chapter 1/1

~ 3,523 words

~ Summary:

What´s better than a Fox cuddle pile?

Kevin Day in the middle.

A Troubled Mind

~ Chapter 1/1

~ 8,512 words

~ Summary:

Kevin Day takes a "Am I gay?" quiz and finds comfort in unexpected places.

Talk to Me

~ Chapter 1/1

~ 3,958 words

~ Summary:

Kevin and Seth are happy and safe from a particularly insane Exy fanatic trying to make their lives harder. Still, Kevin struggles with his self-worth as Seth´s boyfriend. Seth being Seth, does everything he can to bring his boyfriend out of dark places and difficult memories.

This was a gift for my lovely friend @thefoxesraven! Go ask them about Seth and make them happy!

Busyhead

~ Chapter 1/1

~ 13,937 words

~ Summary: Kevin is alone for the weekend. He gets visited by Riko and Nicky and finds light in even the darkest places.

Third wheeling

~ Chapters 5/ (ongoing)

~ currently on hiatus

~ Summary:

Kevin and Neil are happy, have been happy for the past three, almost four years. Then, with a new season comes a new goalie. Andrew Minyard. Followed are questioned feelings, confused conversations and crumbling self-esteem.

The Cursed And The Gifted

~ Series (ongoing)

~ Summary:

Cursed and haunted by his fathers men, Neil is ready to slip away once more. Then, he meets Kevin, a face from the past with a similar problem and Andrew, an asshole that can´t seem to stay out of Neil´s business. And if he wants it or not, Neil will have to face his problems face first if he wants to get out of this mess alive.

some wounds need more than time

~ chapters 10/

~ Summary:

For years has Neil been running. Just as he´s thinking of slowly settling down in his little cabin in the forest, a face from the past visits and he gets sucked into a world he wanted to forget. Through blood and bruises, trauma and curses he meets people that have the power to change his life forever, for better or for worse.

#all for the game #nora sakavic #neil josten #andrew minyard #aaron x katelyn #i have no idea how to do this #kevin day #nicky hemmick #how does tumblr work #please give me ideas #original foxes #i guess #tagging is hard #pining #ao3 stuff

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red-doll-face · 2 years

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Ok, so as a Halloweenie fan, here are my thoughts and thots about Halloween ends, so major spoilers if you haven’t seen it yet 😳 Idc if this gets like 0 notes, I just wanna scream

I wanted to go into this movie liking it, I really did but I was already sort of underwhelmed by Halloween kills. It was entertaining but it wasn’t really what I was looking for. A lot of time was spent on characters (tommy Doyle no one gives a shit about you) I didn’t necessarily care for and Karen or the mom of Alison or whatever was starting to get annoying. Like at this point, I get it, because the safest place for my family would probably be in the hospital but I didn’t get a motherly care vibe like I could tell they wanted to portray but more like a I want everyone to listen to me despite the driving emotions of the story. I get that they wanted a huge fight between Mikey and Laurie, which is why they sort of wanted her to recover in between kills and ends but whatever. Laurie is stuck in that stupid hospital scene that takes up a huge chunk of the movie, trying to tell everyone that this random institution patient isn’t Michael but the scene is so long and very much the opposite of emotionally moving. I get the point, that blind hate and mob mentality is stupid and horrible but it was really in your face and made me feel like they thought I had the emotional comprehension of like a 15 year old.

Whatever, anyway, Michael is hashing and slashing his way through all the annoying characters, so I’m happy and the movie ends on an ominous note of him killing Karen for standing in his spot which the movie never elaborates on further even in the next movie. They made a huge deal about how all Michael wants is to sit in his little window in his little house. And then like never talk about it ever again LMAO.

So now that kills is over, they start with COREY IN THE HOUSE, literally accidentally drop kicking some child down a ridiculous like 3 story high gap in the fancy stairwell or staircase thingy, which to me, I hate to be insensitive, is the best most jarring kill of the movie because you don’t see it coming. And he gets in huge trouble but the court rightfully is like, yeah, who cares; he didn’t mean it, accident 🤷🏽‍♀️. The whole town treats him like shit and his mom sucks and is a creepy weirdo so no wonder this guy is a ticking time bomb. No one seems to care that he obviously didn’t mean to ?? And that he probably already felt really bad about it but small town I guess, big city, no one would have given two shits.

Establishing the bully here to really drive home the school shooter vibes is the GEN Z kids which includes a white kid who speaks in like AAVE and has a tik tok mullet and an approving black kid to prove that the AAVE got the pass. And they’re band kids so i just wanna know which producer or writer got bullied by band kids bc your experiences are not universal. Like ??? Maybe band kids are secretly mean. There’s like a nice one but she doesn’t do much to stop the bullying or just leave to point out that she doesn’t approve so not really that nice. I was not a fan of these kids, they were really annoying which I guess was the point but god.

Laurie, who sees the bullying feels bad for wet and shivering rat Corey and decides to, without knowing this man at all, except the kid incident and that he looks like he could really use a win, set him up with Alison. She’s like overly drawn to him, to the point where she looks sort of creepy at the beginning. Because the actress, despite being good, had no chemistry with him so she’s just like ‘I wanna see you 👁👁’. They go to a party but for some unknowable reason the mom of the kid who he killed is there ? At this party in which he has some sort of acid without the acid experience.

She makes him feel like shit so he leaves and despite being chased by Alison, turns away and leaves to go home. The GEN Z TIKTOK children are back on his case but they sort of kick his ass and flip him over a bridge despite him pulling a knife on them. They just… slap it out of his little rat hands so it was a little sad to see.

THIS, like one hour into the movie, is where they introduce Michael, who for some reason, has been dragging people into the sewer, skulking around town and murdering people secretly, you know, weird stuff, that I never see Michael doing. But they make it obvious that Michael is in his winter years and that he could really benefit from a walker and an oxygen tank. It is also apparent that Michael hasn’t killed the hobo who lives under the bridge with him so maybe they’re friends.

He takes Corey in the sewer to kill him but after telepathically communicating their shared history of being judged badly after doing something they perhaps hadn’t really meant to do, Michael lets Corey go. Not sure why. Maybe Michael sees a fellow killer, someone with potential to be like him so why not mentor him or something. I liked the idea of Michael mentoring someone, I do, think it could be really cool. But the set up for me wasn’t done properly. It doesn’t make sense to me why Michael cared at all about this guy, after already making Michael out to be a merciless killer.

Corey is a changed man now, he’s a little scared about this experience with Michael and he kills a hobo or something so now he feels like a real killer. He does start to look way cooler after this so I guess it’s an improvement. He wants to be cool and badass so he leads this really old looking cop that Alison used to date, even though Alison at the oldest is like 20 ? 21 maybe ? I guess like 5 years passed or something. He leads him into the sewer where he and Michael stab him together, Michael tutors him on how to use knife and teach him how to be a silent killer but Corey’s not really getting it.

To really hurry this along, Corey descends into madness and Alison too, who decides to run away with him despite there being something very off with this guy. Laurie is trying to warn her that he reminds her of Michael but she won’t hear it. This is where it gets disrespectful for me and why I didn’t like the movie a lot because Corey definitely isn’t his own thing now, he wants to be Michael. He isn’t inspired, he isn’t similar, he wants to be the same thing. He steals the bit and stops making a bunch of noise but he can’t even survive a couple of gunshots. Laurie kicks his shit in and Michael is very upset his mask and bit were stolen.

This scene is probably the part I had been most looking forward to. The finale, the final fight between these two horror legends and it felt. So lackluster. And also extremely short. Any hype they built in kills is gone when they show that Michael is really feeling the town beating he got last time and hasn’t really recovered well. So, he gets his ass beat but the fight was at least a fight.

Michael gets a fun little funeral and his body is tossed in the trash grinder thing so he never comes back. I see why but it still made me a little sad.

I wish this movie was a lot different. I know the slasher girlies really like Corey and that’s fine and well but he’s just a bad copycat to me. If he had developed his own bit and style instead of deciding to steal Michael’s, I might have liked him more. I thought he was too little and too scared. Which I guess is their point. You can be like Michael but you can’t be him. He’s my special little guy.

Corey did however look a lot like the actor who played Michael’s face claim, so that was cool and I liked the evil romance between Corey and Alison. It was weird and maybe a bit dorky at times but I liked the, I’ll kill for you part. It just definitely stopped being for her at some point. It felt like if Michael had snapped later in life, dating him would’ve been something like that.

Overall, I thought the movie was ok. Not great and not what I wanted out of the last Halloween movie but oh well. I liked the overlap between Michael’s character and Corey’s and it definitely showed that at some point, Michael was human. And he probably didn’t understand what he had done when he stabbed Judith. They both are judged very harshly for something they couldn’t have truly intended to happen. And it was cute and made me sad about Michael but I’m loyal so screw that other guy.

Also love how they literally didn’t film in Michael’s house anymore, like that’s done, he don’t have the rights for it I guess. But thanks for reading this if you did, I guess I just wanna nail my opinions to the wall so everybody can know how much I didn’t like this movie. Anyways, I need someone to argue with so if you liked this movie, tell me why, lol.

#I’m sorry #this got really long LMAO #but I love Mikey and talking about him is FUN #spoilers #for Halloween ends ofc #y’all wanna talk abt it ⁉️👀👁👁#halloween ends #michael myers #Halloween #slashers #slasher #corey cunningham #rant #red rants #my first rant so forgive me if you’re not used to it from me lmao

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familyvideostevie · 7 days

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omg okay I HOPE YOU LOVE IT and i would absolutely lend you my copy if i could tbh, pls def give us all your review if you do ever read it. but that is SO VALID, like the lore is absolutely phenomenal, but there is SO MUCH, especially between the expanded universe and legends and honestly, i love the high republic and it will always hold a special place in my heart so if you do get it into it and ever have any questions!! or wanna chat!! pls lemme know i will always be down to talk, i am staring at my star wars bookshelf as we speak bc now i am getting the itch to pull them all down and reread them (also sometimes thrift stores and used bookstores have star wars books for cheap!! last week i got the hutt's gambit trilogy for like $1 each!! or sometimes libraries have the rlly old or hard to find ones). but that is wondrful!! how are you liking rebels so far? (and omg i did not know that but!!! that is so cool!!!! and tbh so smart of them to keep everything in continuity so that if someone down the line wants to use that planet, BAM! full info right there, keep all the gungans in order so to speak, that is so fucking cool and makes me love it even more) (but AHHHH ANOTHER ANDOR LOVER and yes omg like i was not expecting the mouse to come right out of left field with anything in andor like that makes it even better, i think, that the politics of the show were still able to come through and be showcased and i miss it so much) okay you know what. i have to agree. with the beard ESPECIALLY like he shouldnt be able to pull it off as well as he did with how baby faced he was in fallen order but man. those five years DID SOMETHING. i respect your taste, emma. but i agree wholeheartedly. i just. cal with a mullet. controversial yet brave yet..... sometimes the heart doesn't know what it wants. i won't even defend myself on that, but the flirting does need to stop. he's out of control. but also i promise you will get no spoilers from me i will let you experience it all firsthand <3 but we will see!!! and we can be in delulu land together about a live action appearance because that NEEDS to happen. idc which show it's in, we need live action cal!!!!

i am 100% going to check out used bookstores for these books! i know most of them aren't canon after disney bought Lucasfilm but i've heard they're all quality anyway.

rebels is great!!! i love hera, she is like, all time best character. i also love kanan and yes it's a children's show but yes, he's hot! what else can i say!

last night i was playing survivor and SOMETHING CRAZY HAPPENED so I'm very pleased about that : ) here's to u cal ily so much.

#chat anytime w me about star wars!!#emma's asks #anon ask #cal kestis #lol

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starcitysirens · 3 years

Text

On this episode of Nelly Has Weird Hobbies I present to you my new mullet children, Mullet Bucky and Mullet Loki. Yes, badly photoshopping mullets on people is something I regularly do. Ask discord.

Bucky's rocking the Robe Lowe in St. Elmo's Fire and Loki the classic Uncle Jesse look.

I dunno guys, I just think mullets are neat.

#bucky barnes #loki #mcu #mcu memes #loki series #tfatws #sebastian stan #tom hiddleston #mine: edits #buckybarnesedit #lokiedit #why does bucky look good tho?#he's the best one out of all my mullet children #I have 7 #the swamp

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girlucifer · 2 years

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457

#aka the ones i do not ever draw ever #which is unfortunate considering how like. they have the best re-designs #which [ok quick little embarrassing cringe vent] i actually take a lot of time & thought to create this little redesigns #like. hellooooo satan = straight spiky hair tucked back as a juxtaposition to wild curly hair lucifer #& belphegor + beelzebub = mullet twins #and pink hair asmodeus due to one comment from a forgotten context in the game where he had neon pink hair at one point #plus long hair solomon. ooo dont get me started on long hair solomon -_-#anyway. yeah :)#i love having them have little accessories pertinent to their vice color [see: belphegor's fuzzy socks & blondie's tie]#all the brothers should be their vice color personified. it's so unfortunate that lucifer's palette seems to be red instead #of blue. but i mean i love red. its my fav color and also looks great on me #such a good color. honestly it should be implemented as floor accents at a children's hos[gunshot]#ok lame joke out of the way. please send me asks and requests and everything. hi.#obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #doodles

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inkedtae · 3 years

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i. rotten angelcake ⇾ kth. [M]

chapter one : art gallery ⤑ taehyung’s generosity does not begin and end with money. it is something else entirely when his diamond rings scratch between your legs.

masterlist | next ⇾

⌁ pairing; ceo!taehyung x curvy!reader (f.)

⌁ genre/rating; s2l, ceo au, sugar daddy au, smut, fluff, 18+

⌁ word count; 13k

⌁ warnings; mentions and usage of vape, mentions and consumption of alcohol, mullet!taehyung (yes, bestie this is a fucking warning), dom!taehyung, daddy!taehyung, ass enthusiast!taehyung, sub!reader, brat!reader, virgin!reader, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, jealousy, praise kink, daddy kink, hand kink, corruption kink, clit rubbing, finger sucking, cum tasting, begging, teasing

⌁ le playlist

ও a hundred thanks to cam ( @sunshinejunghoseokie ) for making this pretty, pretty banner for me!! and a special massive thanks to sammy ( @chateautae ) for encouraging me, motivating me, reading and betaing this all along the way and to eva ( @nottodayjjk ) for happily reading this over and betaing so wonderfully!! I love you all so much and will forever be grateful for all your help and support!!

Kim Taehyung is never late. At least, that’s what Google tells you when you look him up. For every interview or business meeting, Taehyung arrives between thirty minutes to an hour early. It’s been rumored that he will pace the agreed meeting spot and closely watch how the others operate. A nameless employee at Brooks Brothers Incorporated once reported that he had spotted Taehyung lurking around the company building, strolling through the floors so naturally, they didn’t notice it was him until he reached the top floor. When questioned about what he was doing, the employee could only answer: He’d just walk and watch and sometimes just stand and stare.

Taehyung later debunked the rumor, despite the employee’s words, insisting that it was only good manners to arrive early. I am not in the business of wasting my time, he’d said - well, according to his exclusive with Vogue anyways.

You shift in your seat, thankful your nerves always pushed you to arrive all too early for your appointments too. Swiping out of the Chrome app on your phone, you tap on the dating one. Dating is possibly not the best way to describe Sugar Rush. You are not exactly dating on the app as you are trying to find someone who is willing to pay your student loans off until you can find a decent job. Technically, it’s a Sugar Daddy app. And it took you a long ass time to find someone you can provide company to that did not involve getting naked.

Taehyung was a close call. He did not use his real name at first, only a V. And, like any sane person, you did not believe him when he told you who he really was. Though you were not completely familiar with him, you were with his name. Bangtan Industries dominates most, if not all, news outlets, magazines, billboards and conversations. You regret mocking him for trying to use such a powerful man’s name in order to win over your company, cringing at how you tried to save yourself when he sent you a photo of himself that you couldn’t find anywhere on the internet.

Tapping on the chat, you re-read the address for the tenth time, confirming that you are in fact in the right place. The quick scroll takes you back to those embarrassing moments of attempting to recover from your mockeries.

[V] : I’m Kim Taehyung.

[angelcake] : I’m Dora the Explorer.

[V]: That’s not remotely clever.

[angelcake] : Says the liar.

[V] : I’m not lying.

[angelcake] : Shall I call out the Map and point out the bullshit to you?

[V] : cute.

[angelcake] : Oh! Maybe Backpack has a bullshit detector we can use!

[V] : I doubt a children’s show would use such vulgar language.

[V] : I am not lying.

[angelcake] : What the fuck would Kim Taehyung want with a sugar baby?

[V] : Pull that Map out and have it direct you to where we already discussed that. I am not a man who likes to repeat himself.

[angelcake] : I don’t take orders from liars :))

[V] : has send a photo

[V] : since you’ve been silent for the last 10 mins i take it you believe me now.

[angelcake] : I always believed you.

[V]: Says the liar.

He seemed amused. You hope he was amused. Really though, who could blame you for questioning him? Kim Taehyung is untouchable; his company’s logo is printed on every other screen. Creating revolutionary software can do that to a reputation.

Now that you think back to the conversation before his confession, you must acknowledge that your relationship with him had never been normal - not to sugar daddy standards anyways. He had entirely different priorities. He did not want to meet-up and simply requested to chat online. When you told him you were not up for any sexting either, he told you that wasn’t at all what he was looking for. He just wanted to talk. He would send good morning texts and goodnight ones too. He would wish you good luck on your job interviews and ask if you needed a hand with the applications. After long days he would ask about your day, and you his. You’d ask if he had eaten, knowing he tends to get so caught up in his day, food usually slips his mind. Then after that final goodnight, two thousand dollars would be credited to your account. Once on a particularly hot August day, you had reminded him to stay hydrated, tacking on a set of pink hearts at the end. He sent you an extra thousand then and there, adding a little black heart to his final message for the night later on.

Your heart still flutters every time he sends one of those hearts now. He was never an expressive man, never really liking to use emojis before picking the habit up from you. Even then, they were bare of any affection until that text. A part of you wants to tell him that at this point, you do not check up on him throughout the day for the money but because you genuinely care. Admitting so will only jeopardize the relationship though. You’ve been each other’s exclusive partners for a little over six months now - per his request. It’s helped you pay off your loans more than having multiple sponsors has done. You cannot risk it all now when you’ve finally made some progress. No matter how many times his name popping on the screen makes you smile.

The gallery falls quiet. You look up from your phone to find it empty. From your seat in the middle of the long hall, you search through the exhibit for someone, anyone. It was packed with viewers seconds ago. You recall a little girl tugging on her mother’s skirts to be picked up so she could see the art better and a group of friends mimicking the poses of statues for Instagram photos. Now, not even the security guards who scolded those teenagers from touching the art linger in the hall.

Heavy footsteps redirect your attention to the exhibit’s entrance. A form fitting, black turtleneck sits under his matching coat, button undone. Hands shoved in his pockets, Kim Taehyung walks towards you. He looks like he came straight from a meeting. His long hair is combed back and curled behind his ears, but a strand still manages to dangle before one of his eyes. His eyes. Why does he look at you like that? What normal person holds such intense eye contact?

You stand to greet him, smoothing out the short skirt of your white dress. The fabric is breathable even while it hugs your frame. It’s one of your favourites since the sleeves are long and fall off your shoulders. They poke out of the brown checkered blazer coat you threw on after taking a step out of your apartment to find autumn has arrived.

His attention bounces around your face first, fixating on the white beret then your glossed lips. Then, it falls down to your shoes, raising a brow at how you styled the brown oxford heels with white socks. He drinks in your figure next, gaze lingering far too long around your hips. The usual instinct to pull your coat around yourself does not kick in. Maybe your gut brushes it all off as curiosity rather than something more.

You just don’t understand. No one has ever paid such close attention to your fashion sensibilities before.

When he meets your gaze again, a little smirk tugs the corner of his lips. “Morning,” he greets when he’s about an arm’s length away.

Tall, he easily towers over you. It’s his deep voice that makes you feel so small though. You swallow thickly, peering up at him through your lashes. His photos are astonishing, you have never been able to deny that. Up close, however, you find that very little editing must have taken place after every photoshoot. He looks computer engineered. No… science could only dream to create someone so perfect.

“Morning.” Your ego coils at how meek your voice sounds. Clearing your throat, you attempt to regain your composure and steadily ask, “How did you know it was me?”

“The name suits you.”

You try not to blush. It’s a losing battle when your shy smile gives you away. He seems pleased with himself when you cannot meet his eye anymore. Slightly tilting his head with an all too proud smirk, he watches you fluster over his words. You hate how easily you’ve lost yourself. When behind a screen, it’s easy to come up with something witty. You don’t have him watching you so intently.

Licking your lips, you force yourself to look back up at him. Your pride is desperate for a recovery. You tilt your chin down and exaggerate the way you gaze at him through your lashes, sweetly replying, “I know.”

The innocence laced in your voice rights his head and darkens his eyes. “You’ve been waiting long.”

It’s not a question. You suppose the rumors are true. “You’ve been watching me.”

“Aren’t you wary of meeting strangers alone?”

“I didn’t think we were strangers.”

“We aren’t.”

“So, what’s with the third degree?”

There’s something in your tone that makes him swallow thickly. His Adam's apple bobs as he stares.

You raise a brow at him, impatiently waiting for an answer.

That smirk widens. Wordlessly, he turns towards the wall, directing his lethal stare upon the displayed artwork instead. Entitled Spoiled Dessert, the nineteenth century painting depicts a fallen angel with wings made of rotting cake. Icing smears her face.

“Have you been here at night?”

“I’m not a woman who likes repeating herself,” you echo his texts, ignoring his question.

Taehyung glances at you over his shoulder, bottom lip between his teeth. Nodding his head towards the art, he silently requests your presence beside him. Hoping it will result in some sort of reply, you obey and move to stand next to him.

“I asked one question,” he says, looking back to the fallen angel. He’s having trouble keeping his smile at bay. “How is that the third degree?”

“Because I said so.”

The attitude in your voice piques his interest. He raises a brow and turns his body towards you. There’s less space between you this time. You’re craning your neck to properly meet his gaze. Expensive cologne floods your senses. You suddenly take note of the short dangling pearl earring on one of his ears. The channel logo glimmers in tiny diamonds where the stud meets skin. Whatever confidence you once held wavers under his steady silence.

When he parts his lips to speak, his warm breath fans over your face. It smells of cherries and cream. “I was just curious. Is there a problem with curiosity, Angel?”

He has used the name countless times through texts, specifically when wishing you a good morning or night. To hear it though, straight from those all too close lips and spoken in an all too deep voice, churns your stomach with a desire you have trained yourself to ignore. You clasp your hands behind you, feeling weak until you remember that he simply said your name - well, the name you gave him. There’s no need to completely lose your senses over something as plain as that.

This is not personal. This is a professional endeavor. He asked you to meet to discuss using your company for events his board members force him to go to. That is all you will do. There will be no more pausing, thinking, or dwelling on his attire, or voice, or the way he can’t stop fucking staring.

“Nope.” You pop the ‘p’ which makes him lick his lips for some reason.

“At night, the moonlight comes in from the ceiling,” he suddenly explains, flickering his gaze upwards to the peaked glass letting in the mid-morning sun before continuing, “And these paintings come to life.”

“They come out of the frame?”

Taehyung laughs. Your heart warms. “God, no. This isn’t the Tales of Magic Shop.”

You’re not sure what he has against a great franchise, but brush off his mockeries to get the answers you need.

“They just move. This one here,” he says, looking at the fallen angel, “flaps her wings as she falls.”

You try to imagine it; the closest thing you can muster in your mind is something similar to a gif. You wonder if bits of the cake fall too? Is there weather? “Doesn’t take from the art itself?” you think aloud.

Taehyung raises his brows at you. It’s hard to believe no one else has wondered either, so you’re not sure why he looks so surprised. Schooling his features, Taehyung clears his throat and gestures to the bench you were sitting on before. He sits far enough away that another person can fit between you. With the way he spreads his legs, however, you wonder why he didn’t just put you in his lap.

Not that you would want that… or even like it.

He gazes at the painting again and confesses. “I thought that too when I first created it. But the board has been pressuring me since I declined the international contract with China.”

An article headline flashes before your eyes. You don’t remember all the words, having fixated on the fact that he lost out on about half a billion dollars on that deal alone. Coming from a less than credible source, the tabloids never really getting anything right, you thought it was all lies. You don’t doubt that he had a plausible reason not to take the deal. Taehyung is clearly a man of values. The stress on his face and exhaustion in his tone compresses your heart with sadness. Online it was easy to detach yourself from him and the pressure of his work. It’s much harder when you’re met with it face to face.

Resting a hand on his knee, you dip your head a bit to catch his eyes. He stares at where your hand rests instead. “You read about it.”

Again, he is not inquiring but insisting. What always gives you away, you wonder. What makes him so sure?

You shrug, “Just saw a headline in passing.”

He quirks a quick brow, as if to say he figured, then reverts his attention to the floor. Words are not usually so far away from you. There’s always a comment to be made, always something to, at the very least, mock. The way he reacted though, festers your chest with shame. You haven’t done anything wrong, but you just feel bad that you googled him. He wasn’t really at the top of your list of interests before this - not directly anyways. V was always a priority. The cardboard image of the powerful Kim Taehyung was most definitely not.

You remove your hand, clutching onto the edge of the bench instead, and stare down with him. The shiny black of his shoes highlights the purity in the white marble.

“They needed something new - fast. I had this drafted but…” he trails off with a sigh and a little shake of his head.

You peer back at him. He’s already staring. Though you probably saw that coming, your cheeks still grow hot. Desperate to regain control over yourself, you say, “In a way, it is kind of like honouring the art.”

He smirks. “Oh?”

“Yeah, it’s like revolutionizing the past into the future.” You sit up straight the longer you talk and he listens. “If they were here, they’d love how you made their art real and something more than an object of admiration.”

He can’t hide his smile. Or, perhaps, he stopped trying to. He nods when you finish talking and grabs your hand in his. His touch is gentle, like the wrong move will bruise you. His hand is somewhat rough. It feels as though it may have once been calloused but treated, regaining whatever softness it probably had before. Looking into your eyes, his own crinkled behind the apples of his cheeks, he says, “You’re pretty cute when you’re full of shit.”

Seriously, what the fuck is your tell? How does he always do that? Okay, perhaps that is not your first opinion… but is in an opinion you hold. So you are not entirely full of shit. You don’t have time to tell him all this however, that tell of yours confirming his suspicions.

Still, you attempt to salvage what little pride you have left. “I’m serious!”

“Me too,” he says, mimicking your slightly whiny tone. He chuckles to himself when you playfully glare.

Taking your hand out of his, you cross your arms and turn to face the wall. He only laughs harder. You have to curl in your lips to keep yourself from smiling at how adorable he sounds. It’s very rare that you’ve seen photos of Taehyung smiling, let alone laughing. The realization heats your cheeks all the more.

“Come on, Angel. Don’t be mad,” he coos all too happily. His voice borders on condescending. You aren’t a fan at how much it tightens your gut with pleasure. “I’ll tell you what,” he starts, using a finger to flip some of your hair off your shoulder. You shyly meet his gaze. That boxy smile of his doesn’t waver. “You can tell them all this yourself when you come with me to the opening on Friday.”

You drop your arms in your lap, back straightening. Though you already knew he was going to ask you to accompany him to an event, you didn’t think it would be so soon. All the money he gave you has been split between rent, bills and your student loans. You don’t have the funds to shop for new clothes. Even if you save some for yourself from whatever he will give you tonight, you won’t have enough to buy something worthy of such an expensive event.

Taehyung’s amusement falls from his face when he notices your hesitance. That smile once lighting up his face is replaced with a scowl as he furrows his brows in confusion. “Did you change your mind?”

“No,” you rush to say, grabbing one of his hands with both of yours. “No, Tae - Can I call you Tae? Do you prefer Taehyung? Or should I just stick with V? I mean, you call me Angel and I’m not complaining or anything. I’m just saying that you use my screen name so I think I should use yours? Unless you prefer Tae-”

“(Y/N),” he cuts you off, voice thick with authority. He’s holding onto your shoulders, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Take a breath, my God,” he somewhat teases.

It’s now that you realize he’s been calling your name… your real name. You don’t remember giving it to him.

“You can call me whatever you want,” he reassures while brushing his thumbs soothingly against the curve of your shoulders.

Slightly quirking your head to the left, you ask, “You know my name?”

He pauses mid-stroke. With a swallow, he nods. “I may have looked you up too.”

“How?”

“On the internet.”

You deadpan, picking up on his mocking tone. “I mean how did you know to look me up? I don’t use any real information.”

“You have your name on the void cheque.”

What void cheque? “The one I put in the app?” you question. “I didn’t know they shared that with sponsors.”

Taehyung licks his lips. His eyes flicker to the floor for a second. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was debating on whether or not to tell you the truth. “They don’t…” He clears his throat before continuing. “I may have hacked it to run a quick background check on you.”

Did you expect anything less? Should you have? The man owns one of the biggest software companies in the world. Technology thrives to adapt to the pace he sets, not the other way around. The fact that he needed to ensure you will not jeopardize his empire does not bother you. You would have done the same. In a way, with how actively you googled him, you pretty much did the same thing.

But if what he is saying is true, then he knew exactly who to look for when he came in here. “I thought the name just suited me.”

“That’s not what I said. I never said just.”

“You implied it.”

He smirks, that amusement colouring his features once more. “So, what’s on your mind? Do you not want to come?” he asks, seamlessly changing the subject.

You let him do so. Your attention is fixated on the way his hair falls over his eyes anyways. Resisting the urge to brush it out of his face, you focus on his questions instead. How exactly do you tell him you're broke without sounding like you’re fishing for money? Are you even fishing for money? Meeting his gaze, you realize it’s kind of odd taking money from him now. He’s a friend. You don’t feel like you should be paid to be friends.

Taehyung fixes your hat for you as he waits for you to answer. You blink at him when he curls your hair behind your ear too and tilts his head at you. Softening his voice, which somehow makes it sound deeper, he reassures in a whisper, “You can tell me, Angel.”

“I want to come.”

“But..?”

You have to ask him how he can always tell when you’re withholding information from him later. Sucking in a deep breath, you decide instead of awkwardly fumbling around the topic of money, you will ask for exactly what you need. “I don’t have anything nice enough for an event like that. And I don’t know where to start with finding one.”

A relieved sigh escapes him. “Is that all, Angel? I can take care of that for you.”

“You’re sure?”

He falls silent for a moment. Ghost of a smile hovering over his lips, Taehyung searches your eyes. You wonder what he’s looking for, if he can see you’re still holding something back. If he does, he doesn’t vocalize it. Instead, he quickly quirks a brow and nods. He does that a lot, you notice. His brows have bounced you into his thoughts, or what you assume are his thoughts, all too often in this conversation for that not to his tell.

Rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand redirects your attention to his lap. You have both your hands in one of his and they only just cover a little more than half of it. They’re so big, vein laced and perfectly manicured. You didn’t think well cleaned hands would pique your interest so much, but here you were, staring at his hand and becoming increasingly aware of how uncomfortably wet your panites seem to be getting.

He squeezes your hands. It's not too hard; it’s just enough to pull your eyes back to his. He’s staring, searching again. The action is not as intense as when he greeted you. It’s softer and gentle and content. You’re not sure how long you two have been sitting here, gazing at the other. The thought doesn’t trickle in your mind until a security guard walks back into the exhibit hall. He stands at the door and waits for Taehyung to acknowledge him.

“Duty calls?” you ask after he nods to the guard.

Taehyung offers half a smile. “I have an early lunch with Berlin,” he explains. His hand is still in yours though, thumb still brushing softly over your skin. His face suddenly lights up like he remembered something and he begins to pat down on his coat. Your hands feel cold and you have to convince yourself that it's the autumn chill, even while indoors, and not the fact that his hand isn’t warming yours anymore. They still rest on his thigh, however. His thick, muscular thigh, restricted in pants so tight, you’re sure it would feel like it was bare if you ever sat on it. You flush within yourself at how that thought has not surprised you in the slightest.

Pulling out a pink velvet box, Taehyung draws you out of your thoughts. He offers you it, but you can’t seem to move. Lips parted, eyes wide, you can only stare at the gift. You already told him, more than once for that matter, that he does not need to pay you extra for meeting him outside of this arrangement. You told him it was all part of it, that you are willing and comfortable to talk with him because you too enjoy his company. It’s been a while since someone other than your roommate, Mrs. Chu, asked you about your day and if you’ve eaten and how your family is doing. It’s been a while since someone cared enough to check up on you throughout the day. It’s been a while since you had a friend.

“You can’t possibly hate it yet. You haven’t even opened it.” Taehyung jokes, gesturing the box closer.

You give him a pointed look. “I said no gifts.”

“You said no money.”

“Did you steal this?”

The renewed attitude in your tone makes him smile. You can’t help but do the same, hoping a raised brow and crossed arms would be enough to still maintain the impression that you are in fact still mildly annoyed with him.

He drops his hand on his thigh and rolls his eyes. You bite your lip at the sight. After peeking a glance back at the guard, who is suddenly all too captivated by the glass ceiling, Taehyung leans in closer towards you. You get another whiff of cherries and cream and he whispers, “Angel, we have an agreement. Are you not my baby?”

The fact that he dropped the ‘sugar’ from that sentence makes you flush. Being called his, being coddled so casually has you leaning in closer towards him as well. You lean your hands against his strong thigh and nod.

With a widening smile, he asks, “By definition, I should be spoiling you.” Again, he offers the box. “And for a girl who once had fifteen sponsors at the same time, I know you adore being spoiled.”

The app does not offer that information on your profile. He must have found out about that during his background search. That only makes you flush all the more. Even with fifteen, you have never been so connected with a sponsor like you are with Taehyung. You debate on telling him that as you take the box from him. But the reminder that this is just a job cinches the words at your throat.

A string of pearls gleam under the mid-morning sun that seeps in through the windows above. Breathless, you can barely form the words to thank him let alone remember what the hell you were just thinking about. You’ve been wanting pearls since you saw your grandmother wear them at a wedding when you were young. She was shortly robbed a few years after, the pearls forever in another’s possession. The memory consumed you when Mrs. Chu was recounting her college years. She said she wore pearls with every outfit back then. It triggered a sprilling search of pearls online that you dream to afford.

A little gasp escapes you, tears welling up in your eyes. “How did you…” You trail off, the familiar lump in your throat warning you that your voice might break.

He rubs the back of his neck. “The app tracks your ads,” he confesses.

Of course it does. You’re not even fazed at how that technically is a violation of privacy. A choked chuckle escapes you. You sniffle, looking back down at the pretty, soft pink pearls.

“I actually went ahead and put up some firewalls around your account so it won’t track what you do on other apps anymore,” he adds. “Anyone could’ve been able to get your information otherwise.”

“I don’t think anyone can ever do what you do,” you reply through another chuckle. You just can’t believe it. He wanted to get you something. And not just anything, but something you actually like.

He blushes. The sight makes you chew on your lip and you immediately redirect your gaze back to the box. In the midst of admiring the pearls again, you notice the clasp is a diamond lined channel logo. It matches his earrings. You pull the necklace out, the diamonds scratching at the pad of your thumb.

Taehyung takes it from you and unclasps it. “Turn around,” he orders in a soft whisper.

You do as he says, giving him your back and bunching up your hair in a sloppy, makeshift ponytail. The pearls are cool to the touch, decorating your neck gracefully. You bring a hand up to touch them, not quite believing it all just yet.

His lips just graze the shell of your ear. “Let me have a look.” His voice is so gentle, you could almost swear the sentence sounds more like a plea than a command.

Fighting off a shiver that dances the length of your spine, you drop your hair and face him once more. In the steadiest voice you can muster, you ask, “Pretty?”

Taehyung admires how it drapes around your neck with a little smile. “The prettiest.”

Shutting the box and shoving it into your purse is the only way you know how to hide your heated cheeks from his view. You are not a child. You are not some little school girl who unravels at the simplest of compliments. But, he thinks you’re pretty.

“I really have to go now,” he sighs before getting up.

You shoot up from your seat with him. “Right. Berlin is waiting.”

He nods. Silent. Looking. You fidget under his undivided attention.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah?”

You nod. He cups your chin and a rush of embarrassment poisons your chest at how fast you straighten your posture. He’s staring at your glossed lips. You think for a moment that he’s going to kiss you. You wonder for a moment about how soft his lips are.

He traces the curve of the pearls instead. Then, he drops his hand. “Bye, Angel.”

“Bye, Tae,” you, rather pathetically, squeak. You wait until he’s out of the hall before rolling your eyes at yourself.

Mrs. Chu is not home when you return from the grocery store. Stumbling into the kitchen, you drop the bags on the table to be greeted with her neat cursive. You’re not sure why she won’t just text you. You’ve got her a good deal for her phone plan, looping it in with yours now that you’re able to afford it. You even bought her the latest model and set up all her contacts, putting your own number as the first speed dial option just in case. Still, she won’t even look. Well, not for long anyways. She’ll scroll through Facebook and haggle her grandchildren just because she can, then switch on the TV with an all too satisfied smile. She’ll try not to cackle at their mildly resentful responses as she flips through the channels.

Deary,

I snagged a hot date at the auto shop for tonight, so I went out with Minho for a new outfit. I put the leftovers in the fridge. Don’t wait up!

Oh! And a big parcel came for you while you were out. I had them put it all in your room. Whoever he is, keep him! Have fun at your party!

Mrs. Chu

You ignore her comment about Taehyung, not sure how she deduced the gift is from a man, and focus on the rest of the note. How she managed to convince Minho, an honours college student, to drive her around looking for new clothes is beyond you. Though, you know how persuasive she can be. If she sets her mind to something, nothing can stand in her way.

Picking up the blue pen, you wish her good luck on her date and thank her for accepting the package on your behalf. You haven’t ordered anything, but you remember the women at the boutique Taehyung referred you to mention something about sending the finished dress in the next couple of days or so. You draw a heart beside her name and then pin the note to the fridge with a magnet. In case she doesn’t have her glasses to read your response, the heart should be enough indication to let her know you got her message.

You start on the long process of putting away the groceries, annoyed to find that there is already at least one of whatever she had listed for you to buy in the pantry or fridge. You kick yourself for not double checking before leaving. Mrs. Chu has a hoarding problem. You knew this before being roped into living with her. She says she simply hates when she is craving something and does not have the sufficient amount of ingredients to make it.

“That is a tragedy I refuse to be a part of,” she said when you questioned her about it.

It is a terrible feeling to crave something you cannot have. You found it was better to agree with her at the time. However now, as you try to shove everything in its designated spot, you’re starting to rethink that stance.

With a fold of the reusable bags, you shove them in another reusable bag that hangs by the garlic stocks and shuffle your way into your room.

A rack of plastic covered dresses takes up the length of your small room. You trip over the boxes of shoes placed right in front of it as you try to maneuver your way to your bed. An array of Tiffany bags sit upon your comforter. You tilt your head in confusion. Recalling your conversation at the gallery, you distinctly remember telling him you needed an outfit, meaning only one. Why there’s five different dresses, with five matching shoe boxes and Tiffany blue bags is beyond you.

[angelcake] : For a genius you have a terrible memory

[V] : I know it’s not your birthday so what are you talking about?

[angelcake] : Why are there a hundred dresses in my room?

[V] : five.

[angelcake] : I asked for oNe

[V] : We have more than oNe event to go to. You’ll need more than oNe dress.

You can’t help but smile at the way he mimicked your emphasis on the word one. That little dose of amusement is soon replaced with anxiety. He never mentioned other events. You have four others to go to now? What if you don’t do a good job tonight? What will you do with all these dresses and shoes and jewelry? Those diamonds you know he bought are going to be the hardest to return, you can already tell by the way your palms itch to grab the blue bags.

[V] : Don’t like my taste?

He adds the emoji of the winking face with its tongue sticking out. You use it when you tease him. It makes you smile all too hard at the screen. Glancing at the dresses, you realize that you haven’t even really taken them in when you entered, too astonished by their general presence. They range from shades of off-white to soft pink. Each one has a little card stapled to the flimsy plastic cover with the event name, date and time stamped on.

You pull out the one you picked out for the art gallery. A satin white dress drapes to your feet. The seamstress took your suggestions for the skirt, cutting in a tasteful slit on the side that shows just enough skin to be deemed acceptable. The bust looks a bit wonky being that the dress is strapless and hanging onto the hanger with the thinnest strands of ribbon you’ve ever seen, but it still looks beautiful. Reading the card, you notice a little 1 in the bottom corner. You find the sequence of numbers on the other dresses. The shoe boxes and bags follow the same theme.

Laying the dress on your bed, you grab the shoe box labeled with a 1 and open it to find the strappy shoes you picked out. He styled the other four. Curiosity nags you to peek at the corresponding Tiffany bag. It’s tiny compared to the others. You open it to find large diamond studs. They’re twinged a sheer rose gold. A pleased giggle tumbles out of you. You’ve never worn diamonds before. You’re sure they’re going to weigh down your earlobes but you're excited to wear them all the same.

You stare back at the chat. Unsure what to say, you figure expressing your gratitude is a great place to start. You add the revolving heart emoji for good measure. He replies with a black heart.

[angelcake] : Thanks Daddy.

[V] : Of course, Angel.

Taehyung has been waiting outside of a black car for thirty minutes now. You peek out your window every few minutes, worried to find him huffing, puffing and ready to blow this entire night off. Instead, you find him calm, collected, and all too still. He looks like a statue, well cut in that black suit and gleaming under the moonlight. You should have gotten ready earlier. Or maybe you should have just stuck with your first makeup look. The whole night has just been daunting, weighing heavy on your chest with anxiety. Thoughts about looking good enough, let alone presentable, lap around your mind with every curling roll you pull out of your hair.

What if you’re overdressed? What if you’re not wearing the right shoes? You compared the ones you picked out with the ones Taehyung did. They don’t look remotely the same. Why did he pick open toed heels for the third function and not the fifth? Why did you just let him pick everything out to begin with? You groan, exhausted with your own thoughts before flipping your up and hair to perfect the loose, blowout curls you’re going for.

By some miracle, it doesn’t look horrible. With the hair finally finished, you’re able to take in the outfit in its entirety. You’ve somehow managed to channel a 1950’s beauty queen persona. It’s not exactly what you were aiming for but it looks good all the same. God, you hope it looks good.

Grabbing your phone and lip gloss, you realize you forgot to pick out a purse when you were at the boutique. You know damn well you don’t have anything expensive looking, let alone something that matches your outfit. Nor, you realize, do you have the time to look. You’ve already kept him waiting longer than you promised.

You check your notifications. They are empty of the cotton candy logo. You click open the app and check your messages, thinking it might be a glitch. He has not texted since he told you he was on his way. He’s been standing out there for half an hour and has not had the urge to ask you to hurry up. It fills your chest with shame along with the already growing stress.

[angelcake] : I’m sorry. I’ll be right down~

[V]: Take your time.

[angelcake] : Trying to find a purse.

[angelcake] : nothing matches!!

You add an array of sobbing emojis and broken hearts, hoping they point to the shred of humor you have left in you that is somehow keeping you sane.

[V] : You’re sure?

[V] : You can put your things in my pockets if you’d like?

You smile at how he didn’t wait for you to confirm, already offering a solution. It wouldn’t be so bad putting your things in his pockets. The idea only gives you more reason to remain glued by his side other than the fact that you don’t know anyone there at all. Eyeing your vape, which sits on the edge of your vanity, you try to wrack your memory for a purse you know you don’t have. You’re fine with Taehyung keeping your phone and lip gloss safe. You’re not quite sure what he would say about your occasional smoking habit. You haven’t listed it on your profile. The interest isn’t listed on his either. You’ll be damned if you have to leave without it though. Sometimes it’s the only thing that helps keep you grounded.

Snatching the vape, you tuck it into your dress, just between your breasts. It’s thin enough to fit seamlessly and right within reach should you need it.

[angelcake] : How big are your pockets?

You know you will only be handing two relatively small things, but teasing him is always just so much fun. You smile down at your phone as you shut your lights off and leave the apartment. He replies as you’re locking the door.

[V] : We can always stop somewhere and pick one up?

[angelcake] : just one or oNe?

You manage to hurry down the stairs and get to the lobby in time to watch as he rolls his eyes at your text. A smile is hovering over his lips as he types. His driver emerges from the car, circling around to Taehyung only to be waved back to his spot behind the wheel.

“Sir, I can get the door for you,” you hear him say when you open the door.

Taehyung only stares. It’s not charged with the same tender intensity you received at the gallery the other day, but rather with annoyance. The driver returned to his seat. You’re not quite sure what that is about, but you’re thankful you have not been on the receiving end of such a lethal look.

The click clack of your heels redirects his attention towards you. Whatever anger he once held disappears from his features. His jaw slacks, eyes widen and you hear his breath hitch as you approach him. Growing hot all over, you don’t register the cool evening breeze under his gaze.

“I know I’m late,” you say as a way of another apology. “I just didn’t know if this was the right look. I mean, how big is this thing anyway? When I went to openings in college, it was much more lowkey and I think our professor came in jeans. So, I had to redo my makeup and-”

“You look beautiful,” he cuts you off with a chuckle. His attention lingers on the string of pearls around your neck. “The prettiest.”

If your face wasn’t hot before, it is now. Did he not hear you or is he just saying what you want to hear to make you feel better? He must see the questioning on your face as his hand traces your frame from your cheek to your waist. He pulls you closer to him, forcing you to crane your neck to maintain eye contact as he looks down at you. Your cheeks ache from the constant smiling and, no matter what you do, you cannot regain control over your features. It’s especially hard to do so when his body is practically pressed up against yours.

You hold onto his shoulders, the hand clutching your phone and lip gloss simply resting against him. Taehyung notices and wordlessly takes them from your hand to put them in his pocket. You hold onto him properly now, swallowing thickly. This is just a job, you remind yourself. This is just a job and just for a night. You can handle yourself for a night, right?

A little freckle rests just under the tip of his nose, just above his right nostril. You didn’t notice that before, it’s not very clear in any of the photos. You spot a similar one under his left eye, in his waterline. Ignoring the urge to touch them, you clear your throat and take a step back.

Taehyung does not question your actions. He keeps a straight face, removing his hands and opening the car door instead.

The car ride is quiet. You’re not really sure what to do or say and cannot hide behind your phone as it sits in his pocket. Pressed up against his legs, which seem to always spread so wide when he is sitting, you inspect your nails. Before getting your measurements, Taehyung had told you that he booked you an appointment at some nail place, confessing that he noticed you were browsing some when he sneaked a peek at your ads. He paid for a new set of elegant french tips. The usual white however is jeweled with rows of tiny swarovski diamonds. The women told you how they were to inform you that you may come at any time during operating hours and get them changed whenever you’d like.

Taehyung slips his hand in yours. Bright rubies sparkle around his fingers under the passing streetlights. You look up to meet his already lingering gaze.

“You’re not usually this quiet,” he notes, rubbing your hand with his thumb again. If nothing else, you want to remember this feeling.

You shift closer to him as your hammering heart calms. “We’ve only met once. How do you know how I usually am?”

The playful glint in your gaze pulls his lip between his teeth. He glances at your lips for a moment before reminding you, “We’ve been talking for months. You’re most chatty at night.”

It’s true. Your brain has always been more active during the night than the day. It’s usually when you get the most work done too. You like how he knows this about you. It warms your chest and relaxes your tensed muscles as you roll your shoulders back before further leaning into him. He doesn’t seem to mind it, slightly tilting his head as if he’s prepared to caress you with his whole body. It feels so comfortable and casual, it’s like you’ve known each other for years.

“I’m so nervous,” you confess in a whisper. “The only art gallery I’ve been to was the one on campus, which I think is half the reason why my professor showed up in jeans. There was amateur art and just a bunch of people who were as clueless as I was. I don’t think I’m the right per-”

The furrow of brows cuts you off. He doesn’t look as angry or annoyed as he did when he was silently scolding his driver, but the mild implication of his vexation still lingers. “Angel,” he practically coos, tightening his hold on your hand. “Everyone there is just as clueless. They’re just better at hiding it.”

The heavy layer of anxiety resting on your shoulder slowly sheds at the realization that he’s right. No one really knows what they are doing. The entire “fake it till you make it” concept is ruled by the one percenters. And, judging by the way he’s holding onto you, you know you’ll have Taehyung by your side all night. Your nerves still linger but do not charge your veins with worry or fear as intensely as they used to.

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you mutter, peering up at him through your lashes. “You’re a great friend.”

The party is already well underway when the two of you arrive. Taehyung warned you about the cameras as the driver pulled up, but you did not think they would be as severe as they were. You kept your head down and tried to ignore them though still, as you sip on your champagne in the refuge of the grand exhibit hall, you can recall every last blunt question about who you are and what Taehyung thinks he’s doing with you.

“What do you think?”

You look up from the rim of your drink to find three board members of Bangtan Industries staring at you. You blink at them, offering a little smile. What the hell were you talking about again? The one in the glasses works in the film department at the gallery, you remember Taehyung introducing him because he mentioned something about a new silent film that the department was working on. You can’t remember his name though and he wasn’t even the one talking to you so that information is rather useless. When they look between each other, confused by your silence, panic takes over and you laugh. Very loudly. Their bewildered looks only make you laugh harder. The one in the glasses suddenly joins you, turning to his colleague who then also laughs. By the time they are rocking with laughter, Taehyung reappears by your side.

“Didn’t I tell you she was fun?” he asks, face expressionless. Had it not been for the hint of tone in his voice, you would have assumed he was being sarcastic.

You’ve come to find, within the hour you’ve been hovering around different circles of well established people, that the Taehyung you met days ago, the same one who showers you with gifts and physical attention, is not the same Taehyung who stands before these businessmen tonight. No, the moment you exited the car, Taehyung became Kim Taehyung and all hints of vulnerability diminished from his features. He does not put his hands on you, does not look at you too long as he bounces between circles and talks shop with people you just know he has no real interest in. When he comes to check up on you like this, it is merely to redirect you to another group of people who, shockingly, have openings in their departments they are willing to fill. You’re starting to think that he did not ask you here to accompany him, but rather to help you get a job.

You suppose that’s thoughtful… enough.

“...And she laughed at you, Arthur. What do you think that says about your company?”

You hadn’t realized they were talking. Maybe you need to lay off the champagne for the rest of the night.

“I think it means we can use new voices on our team,” Arthur says as he turns to you. He smiles and pulls out his card from his pocket. “Give my office a call on Monday. I look forward to seeing your resume on my desk.”

You force a smile, accepting the card with a humble thanks. The men disperse, leaving you alone with Taehyung. Carefully glancing at him, you try to hide your discomfort and hand him the little piece of hardstock.

“Keep it safe for me?”

He gives you a peculiar look. “Something the matter?” he asks, taking the card and shoving it in his pocket.

“Mr. Kim?”

A woman in her mid thirties derails your conversation as she approaches you two - well, actually she simply approaches Taehyung. She makes it a point to emphasize the sway of her hips with each step. She has kind eyes and a pretty smile, looking beautiful in a shimmering gold dress. Her attention narrows on Taehyung however as she offers you her back, icing you right out of whatever conversation she plans to have.

“We missed you at dinner the other day,” she says in a near whine, wrapping her hands around his arm. The gesture tightens your chest with pain. You ignore it before your mind can label the feeling to a concrete emotion.

Taehyung bounces a single brow to acknowledge her presence as he pulls himself out of her grasp. “Had a meeting,” he explains, looking to you before she can get another word in and adding, “Have you met, (Y/N) (L/N)?”

Her smile wavers when she turns to face you. Those kind eyes swim with unease as she attempts to regroup her expression. “No, I haven’t.”

Hints of anger taint her tone. You’re nervous to return the smile but do it all the same.

“Mrs. Geraldson is Arthur’s wife,” Taehyung explains as a way of introduction. “(Y/N) is a new graduate of SGU.”

“Business?”

“Double majored in English Lit and Art History,” he corrects.

You want to for the life of you ignore the hurt in her eyes, in the way she can’t keep them off him, but you can’t. It jumbles your stomach with nausea and you find yourself downing the last bit of champagne in your glass. You turn to a waitress walking by and place your glass on her tray to find her glaring at Mrs. Geraldson. Her gaze then flickers to Taehyung. You recognize the longing immediately.

This playboy reputation was not reflected in your Google searches. You’re not sure if it would have made a difference if it did. You would have still shown up, still played the part of the perfect date. It’s clear this is not the detail that weighs heavily on your heart. You don’t want to hear this from newspapers or magazines or the tabloids. He should have told you his history if it was going to be present at the event. He should have told you what he was leading you into.

“Is that right?” Mrs. Geraldson asks, tilting her head to meet your distant gaze.

You really need to learn to multitask if you’re going to survive the night. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” you try to smile. It’s now that you realize Taehyung has left the conversation, forcing you to converse with his ex alone. At least, you hope it is his ex. He cannot be serious.

“You met him at SGU,” she repeats. “In the campus art gallery?”

You figure that’s better than a sugar daddy app. “Yes,” you smile with a nod.

“When?”

You’re taken back by the sudden aggression in her tone. She must have noticed your disarmed look, clearing her throat and forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Since you’re not sure if he had already told her, you opt for a vague yet truthful answer, “Recently.”

She pauses before falling completely silent. You watch as her gaze drifts to something behind you. When you follow her line of sight over her shoulder, you find a tall, beautiful professor already glaring at her. She then shifts her anger towards you before returning to her conversation.

“Might have to get used to that,” Mrs. Geraldson dryly chuckles when you look back at her.

“Excuse me?” You don’t mean for it to come off so haughty, offering an apologetic smile right away.

Mrs. Geraldson seems to understand. Whatever hostility she held against you falls as she returns the smile and says, “Taehyung is… well-rounded.”

You swallow thickly, knowing she is using her words carefully.

“You’ll have to get used to that if you’re willing to stick around,” she explains.

“Thanks for the heads up,” you sigh as she picks up a glass of champagne from a passing server. “Would you excuse me?”

The moment she nods, you make your way down the hall and around the corner. You’ve been here enough times to know your way outside without actually having to be outside and if there’s one thing you need right now, it's a dose of fresh air. Mind reeling, you try to keep your pace leveled as you weave between conversationalists.

You just can’t believe he didn’t tell you. This whole time you thought that the two of you were friends. Yes, maybe this is a job but you don’t hold a job the way Taehyung holds you. You don’t throw someone into their job without briefing them about what they are being thrown into. He didn’t lie to you but, with the way your chest aches and stomach turns, it sure feels like he did. Mrs. Geraldson is kind too. So very kind that if there wasn’t some sort of history between her and Taehyung, you feel like maybe she could’ve been someone you would turn to during dull parties like this. You almost feel bad for invading her relationship, even though she is pretty much cheating on Arthur.

Climbing up the stairs to the fifth floor, you try to push all other thoughts about Mrs. Geraldson and the rest of Taehyung’s sexual history out of your head. But then the horrible thought of him being that intimate with them plagues your mind. You could not have found the balcony sooner, rushing through the dark hall and pushing the glass doors open.

A breath of fresh air followed by a gust of cold greets you as you lean against the railing. The balcony juts out of the building enough for you to see the party rage on. The floor to ceiling windows don’t make it that hard either as golden light seeps out before the city.

You pull out your vape from between your breasts, so thankful you thought of stashing it there and taking a long drag. As you exhale, you dump all thoughts of those other women out of your head and focus on the horizon. You’ve never seen the city from this height. The grand peaks of parliament cut through the clouds, buildings light up and stars just barely sparkle.

A jacket drapes over your shoulders, shielding you from the cold. You don’t need to look back to know who it belongs to. The familiar, expensive cologne is enough indication.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he says as he leans against the railing with you.

You take another drag. Words don’t seem to come to you and even if they did, you’re not sure you have the strength to say them. You’re hurt and that’s all you can think about as you breathe out a heavy dose of smoke into the air.

“Are you upset with me?”

There is a sincerity in his voice that you cannot ignore. When you finally meet his gaze, you find the twinge of hurt in his eyes too. The vindictive part of you wants to tell him that it really sucks when friends hold out on each other, doesn’t it. But your rational side knows better than to explode on him when you pretty much have no right to.

You’re not dating him. You’re not his girlfriend. You’re just some girl he met online. You miss being the girl online. You miss being trapped in those pink and white walls of the chatroom where only the two of you existed.

“Are you sleeping with Mrs. Geraldson?” You find yourself asking.

Taehyung glances at your vape. He pulls his own out of his pocket, much to your surprise, and takes a puff before nodding. “I was. I cut it off a few months ago.”

You’re taken aback by his honesty. If he had nothing to hide, why didn’t he tell you this all before? “How many?”

“Eight.”

There’s no overlap, you can’t help but conclude. It somewhat eases the pain poking at your heart. “And the server?”

He chuckles as the next cloud of smoke escapes through his nose. You press your legs together at the sight and find yourself having to remind your body that you are upset with him.

“That was so long ago, I don’t even remember her name.”

“And the professor?”

“Which one?”

The fact that he has to ask makes you scoff. You turn back to the view, shifting your weight and sucking harshly at the tip of your vape to keep your emotions from spilling all over the floor.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“Of course, you don’t. You’re a man.” You internally cringe at your tone and pointed words. It’s a low-blow. You’re fully aware that it’s a low-blow. You might as well have slapped him and told him to go fuck himself.

He stands to his full height, glaring down at you as he asks, “What does that have to do with anything?” He’s using his business voice - the one he uses with all those people he hates.

“It means you don’t think with your head.” You beg yourself to stop talking. Every word is becoming a bullet.

He towers over you, forcing you to stand straight too and face him. The sheer dominance of his stance already makes you cower, but his gaze is what makes you squirm. Heavy with ire, his eyes darken as he glares. Another bout of smoke escapes through his nostril. Your thighs rub together, eases an itch between them you are having trouble to ignore tonight.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he hisses. You shiver. “I didn’t cheat on any of them. Before it started I told them it was just sex and once I found you, I cut off all ties. So tell me, what grand crime have I committed for you to think it’s okay to talk to me like that?”

When he lines it all up like that, you find it hard to hold onto your anger. Furrowing your brows, you pout and turn away from him, but he grabs hold of your shoulders and forces you to face him once more.

Locked under his harsh eyes, you can’t help stomping one of your feet and blurting out, “I thought we were friends!”

“We are friends!”

“So, why didn’t you tell me all this before? Between my apartment and the gallery, you had all that time to say, ‘oh hey, a bunch of girls I fucked are gonna be there. I’m not fucking them anymore but just a heads up in case they try to corner you.’”

He does not find your impression of him amusing, deadpaning at the sound of your foolishly deep voice. He parts his lips to explain himself, but you don’t seem to be done just yet.

“And then you leave me alone with her. You actually walked away from the conversation and left me alone to find out that half of every department in the city has been in your bed.”

“No one has been in my bed.”

“So now you’re denying it all?” You let out a dry chuckle, shaking your head at him before taking another sip of your vape. He’s unbelievable, completely unbelievable if he thinks he can sneak his way right out of all this by lying right to your fac-

“I’m not denying anything. I’m just saying no one has been in my bed. And for fuck’s sake, stop bouncing around like that! If you need to go, just go. We can finish this conversation after.”

It takes you a moment to realize you have been bouncing around in place. Then, it takes you another horrifying moment to realize why. You don’t have to go to the restroom, not for the reason he thinks anyway. Throughout the argument, you’ve been rubbing your thighs together, pressing them tight and trying to relieve the wet tension between them.

You swallow thickly, shrugging his hands off you and turning back to the cityscape. “I don’t need the washroom,” you insist.

“You look like you do.”

You thought you’ve stopped your legs, but the daunting realization has only made you ache for a… tender touch all the more. “I don’t,” you repeat through gritted teeth, stilling your legs and sucking another round of smoke.

After a moment of silence, his voice drops an octave as he whispers, “I think you do.”

The jacket around your shoulders begins to suffocate you under the wave of heat that follows the humiliation festering in your chest. You shrug it off, not too concerned with its worth or the soft clatter of your things as it hits the floor. You’re squirming again, clutching onto the railing to stabilize yourself long enough to say, “I can assure you that I don’t.”

Taehyung leans his back on the railing beside you, resting his elbows casually as he looks down at you. “I can go if you’d like to do it here,” he teases with a smirk all too cocky for you not to glare at.

“This isn’t funny, Taehyung,” you whine. It only feeds his amusement.

“It happens to the best of us, Angel.” His tone is condescending. He doesn’t even try to hide it. You can’t believe how hot that fact is making you.

“Taehyung, please,” you beg as a way to ask him to stop being so crass about the situation.

He takes the plea differently and raises a brow. “Asking for help?”

You hate how you hesitate. He waits patiently amongst the silence. The smooth jazz of the party drifts between you but isn’t loud enough to shatter the tension. “I’ve never…” You trail off, feeling that familiar brust of humiliation coil around your heart again.

Taehyung nods. “You’re a virgin, I know.”

You’re certain whatever makes that so obvious is the same thing that always gives you away when you’re trying to hide something from him. With that in mind, you think there’s no use in trying to keep this from him too and admit, “It’s not just that. I’ve never really touched myself before.”

Taehyung is quiet. Too quiet. For far too long. All amusement drops as he stands back to his full height and with the most shock you’ve ever seen in him. “So you’ve never-”

“No.”

“Not even-”

“No.”

“How about-”

“No.”

His eyes almost fall out of their sockets as he asks, “You’ve never watched porn?”

“What? Of course, I have!” you shout back. When he opens his mouth to question your previous answer you add, “I didn’t know that’s what you were asking. I just want to get this whole night over with. I’m horny and upset and you should have told me, okay? You’re my friend and the least you could’ve done was tell me! But, all you wanted to do was ignore me all night and leave me with exes I didn’t even know you had and make me so unbelievably horny I can’t even enjoy a smoke, let alone stand straight!”

Taehyung lets you get it all off your chest, shoving his hands in his pockets as you rant. He does not cut you off nor look at you with that usual challenging stare. His eyes are instead filled with concern and understanding. You almost feel bad for shouting, heaving by the time you get to the end of your sentence.

“You’re right. I should have told you,” he says with a nod. “We are friends. I should have taken you with me when I left. I don’t think I should have left at all actually. I’m sorry, Angel.”

His words are all you need to let out a heavy sigh, your frustrations falling out with it. His use of your nickname only reminds you of the dampening issue of your panties. You squirm again. He doesn’t fail to notice.

He gazes at your hips, asking, “Seriously, why don’t you just do it? You’ll feel much better.”

“It’s not the same,” you say before you process the words. When he raises a brow for more information, you explain in a voice so tiny, he has to lean down close to hear you, “I just know it won’t be the same as someone else’s touch.”

He pauses. He stares. He bites his lip then matches the volume of your voice, saying, “If you’d like, I can help you.”

The mere thought of it makes you shiver. He fights off a smirk. It only proves his sincerity. Had he only wanted to mock you or embarrass you for your feelings, he would have. You take a step closer, too shy to meet his eyes as you mutter, “I don’t want your fingers in me though.”

His lips rest right by your forehead. You can feel his warm breath against your hairline as he whispers, “I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.” He uses a finger to tilt your chin up so that he can peer into your eyes. “I’ll only do as you ask. Are you sure about this, though, Angel?”

The softness of his voice has you sinking your body into his. You clutch onto his chest, the white dress shirt bunching up in your fists as you try to balance yourself. You’re so horny, it aches. Your clit throbs, and you have to press your thighs together again to keep from moaning. Nodding your head, you look up at him through your lashes and whisper, “Yes, Daddy.”

Taehyung is sure, but gentle in his handling of you. He starts his hands on your waist and pulls you close against him. When you gasp a moan at the soft impact, he drops his hands to your ass. You tighten your grip on his shirt and burrow your head into his neck to be tsked at.

“Eyes on me,” he orders in a whisper.

That’s probably the worst thing you can do, you realize the moment you look back up at him. He’s watching you so tenderly, carefully, like you’re a little thing of porcelain that can break at the slightest wrong look. It makes you pout.

He jiggles the cheeks of your ass, getting a feel for the weight and how each one bounces in his hand. It coaxes a whiny moan out of you too. No one has touched you like this. No one has regarded you with such devotion. As he hooks one of your legs around his waist, you hope and pray no one other than him ever will.

Taehyung leans your back against the railing. You wrap your arms around his neck, letting out shaky breathes when his hand snakes between your body to cup your sex. You press your lips together to hold back a moan, but it fills the silence anyways, high-pitched and desperate as ever. His brows bounce at how wet his hand becomes from the first touch alone. He gives your panty-clung pussy a little brush with the tips of his fingers and you squirm at how dark his eyes get when his pupils are dilated.

“Are you teasing me?” You ask in a voice too weak, it borders on pathetic.

He nudges your nose with his. “I wasn’t trying to,” he breathes as a smile takes over his features. “Do you want me to rub you from out here?”

You shrug. You can’t imagine it would be as extraordinary as having his fingers against your bare clit. Pulling him closer, you swallow thickly and timidly ask, “What feels better?”

He gives you a pitiful look. “You tell me, Angel?” He all but coos as he slips his fingers around your panties.

The first brush of his middle finger on your clit makes your eyes roll, the right one twitching in the process. Lips against your chin, he moans. You aren’t sure why and don’t have the time to think about it, as he rubs you again and again, adding the tiniest sliver of pressure each time.

“God,” you gasp. Your hips roll on their own and it makes Taehyung tighten his hold on your ass.

As you whine at the harsh grip, he smirks, “Daddy will do just fine, Angel.”

If his hand wasn’t circling around your pussy right now, you would’ve tossed him a playful glare. “Now, I know you’re teasing me,” you pout, voice sounding so small and whiny, you almost don’t recognize it as your own.

He laughs and quickens his pace, using all his fingers to rub you. His diamond rings scratch at your inner thighs, and you find that it tickles. You can’t help a giggle the fourth time it happens. That whimpery, giggy ripple of air makes him groan. Taehyung further presses himself against you. His bulge rests against your other leg. From that mere impression alone, you just know he’s fucking huge.

It makes you moan.

“Does that feel good, Angel?” Taehyung asks as he rests his forehead against yours.

Fuck. Fuck. “Fuck!” you whimper. Your hips are moving on their own, rolling into his hand as he continues his ministrations. “Dad-dy feels so g-good!” Shortly after that embarrassing confession, he rubs you especially hard and your mouth falls open.

Taehyung opens his mouth too. He hovers it over yours and moans along with you, mimicking your breathy, whiny sounds like he too is being pleasured. Then he tilts his head, just like he would if he was kissing you and moans louder.

“Pretty little Angel is gonna cum, isn’t she?”

His voice is fucking sinful. He sounds all too cocky, all too smug as he pretends to be concerned. He’s babying you because he can… because he knows you like it.

You’re not sure how to tell when you’re close, having never been close before. But, there’s a build up at the pit of your stomach and your pussy just keeps clenching and clenching. You know you’re getting wetter because you can hear the squish and splash of your arousal moving around his fingers. You’re getting louder too. You’re getting so loud, you’re sure the whole city can hear you.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “That’s right. Fuck yourself on my hand, Angel.”

You didn’t realize that you’ve been gyrating against his hand this whole time. You’ve been too consumed by the ecstasy coursing through your veins, buzzing your nerves with desire and anticipation.

“Oh my god,” you cry, throwing your head back. “Daddy! Daddy!”

Taehyung presses his lips to your chin. “So good, little Angel,” he mutters before pecking the tip of your nose. “You’re my good, little Angel, right? You’re fucking my hand so good.”

You squeal at his words, burying your face in the crook of his neck. The action offers you his scent, and it’s not that usual cologne you smell but rather a musky cross of black anise stars and sage. Your tongue acts on its own, you try to convince yourself, and licks at his skin before you suck on it.

“Mmm, it’s okay, Angel. It’s okay to cum,” he breathes into your hair. “You can do it. I know you can.”

Your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. You’re so close. You’re so sure this time. You can feel that build up inching towards your pussy as you rut recklessly against his hand.

“Sweet Angel,” he whispers, lips at the shell of your ear. “My sweet, horny little Angel. How long have you been wanting this? Hmm? How long has my Angel been waiting to cum?”

“Too fu-cking long, Daddy!” you cry. You pull your face away from his warmth in the crook of his neck, pressing your forehead against his. “I really wanna cum! I re-really do, Dad-dy!”

“I know, Angel,” he purrs, brows furrowing with understanding and concern. “You can cum on my hand like the good, little girl I know you are. Go on, Angel. Cum for me.”

You prove him right in a matter of seconds. Throwing your head back, you let out a loud, high-pitched moan as your body trembles in his hand. You feel your arousal rush out of your pussy and all over his hand, the wet splatters sounding filthier. A vigorous wave of euphoria floods your mind and ears, Taehyung’s sweet encouragements becoming distant and muffled.

“That’s it! That’s it, baby. Cum on Daddy’s hand just like that,” he kisses your head, “That’s my pretty, pretty Angel!” He groans, continuing to rub you even as you spaz and quiver in his hands.

You must have almost fallen right out of his grasp because the hand that was kneading your ass shoots to your waist and cradles you close against him.

Tears soon spill from your eyes, the pleasure of his hand on your clit becoming unfathomable. You grab hold of his wrist and pull your hips away from his hand. He catches onto your silent request to stop and instantly removes his hand from your slightly overstimulated pussy.

Your legs fall from his hip, but Taehyung keeps you standing with his tight hold of your waist. Legs trembling, you quiver against him. You just came. You really just came. You never thought the first time you come would be at the hands of someone like Taehyung, someone so obsessed with your pleasure, it fuels their own.

Heaving, you start to come down from your high as your hearing returns to you. The reality of your actions hits you again… You just came. Shame heats up your face as you look down at his cum covered hand dangling by his side. “Fuck, I’m so sor-”

Your apology is cut short as Taehyung brings his wet hand to his mouth. He holds your astonished stare as he sucks. Your mouth parts as you watch his tongue loop around, licking up between each finger. He pulls them out and asks, “Want a taste?”

Words fail you. Voiceless, you simply part your lips wider. You taste sweet, brows shooting up.

He mimics your expression with an amused smirk. “Good, right?”

Your tongue swirls as you nod.

Taehyung lets you suck a bit longer before finally pulling his hand away. He holds you close while waiting for your uneven breath to regulate. The wind whips at your collided bodies, pushing your hair in your face. He gently brushes it back behind your ears. The gesture almost makes you want to continue your laboured breathing just so you can be held a little while longer.

When you’re finally back to normal, Taehyung places a chaste kiss upon your cheek, whispers, “Good job, Angel,” and picks up his jacket before guiding the both of you back downstairs.

He holds you close for the remainder of the night, his large hand resting on the small of your back. Guiding you around the gallery, he begins to introduce you as his Angel. His interest in you results in more than just polite small talk from others. You catch Mrs. Geraldson by the grand window.

Her face is drained of colour.

tags : @marcoazz2 @complexmolecule @whats-good-ross

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work without my permission.

#kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #v smut #v x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #bangtansorciere #networkbangtan #btshoneyhive

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aetheternity · 3 years

Text

Can I have your number?

Synopsis: Armin’s always being asked by shy pretty girls for Eren’s number at parties to the point where when you ask for his number he doesn’t know how to respond. (Italicized words are Armin’s thoughts.)

“Why me?” Armin shrugs his cotton blue hoodie off his shoulders. Fingers grazing over the zipper in earnest contemplation. “Why don’t they ever just go right to him?”

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, Armin.” Connie begins, finger tracing over the rim of his partially empty glass. “Well actually I’m not. You’re the approachable friend because Eren is so tall and sexy; and you’re puppy cute.”

“Puppy cute.” Armin spits, eyes uncharacteristically narrowing.

Sasha plucks the glass from Connie’s hand, “That’s enough outta you.” She huffs pulling the drink far from Connie’s reach. “Sorry Armin, it’s just cause he’s drunk.”

“But he isn’t wrong.” He replies, Sasha sighs transitioning Connie’s glass to her free hand. She tilts her head apologetically. “He isn’t wrong.” Armin repeats, rolling his eyes.

Just as he reaches for the glass he can’t stop nursing tonight; a tap on his shoulder stops him. “Hey um..” The girl in front of him is the same as the rest. Gorgeous. Small build fitted out in a white crop top and blue skirt like she was meant to perfectly match with Armin. Her hair was short barely making it to the nape of her neck. She shifted her weight back and forth as she looked up at Armin with pinked cheeks.

“I really hate to bother you with this..” Then don’t. “Uh..” She steps back so Armin can look out at all the loud party goers and their raucous chatter. “You’re friends with him right?”

Through the sea of people she manages to point right at Jean. His black vest over a brown tee shirt surprisingly easy to pinpoint as he chatted away with a couple of other guys. His black fingers nails lightly tapping the edges of his glass as he laughed away without a care in the world. Loose hairs of his mullet pulled back with two black hair pins while the rest of his hair was perfectly gelled.

“Yeah.” Armin replied with a small roll of his eyes.

“Do you think maybe.. I can have his number?”

Armin suppresses the urge to snort. “Do you have a pen?” He asks

Sasha ends up being the one that hands one to him and he quickly scribbles Jean’s number onto a piece of paper. He hands it over and she responds with a quick, ‘thank you’ taking her leave as quickly as possible.

“Woah.. Forgot how bitchy you can be when you’ve had a few.” Sasha giggles though unlike the girl from before Armin’s glare does nothing to sway her.

“Did I forget to mention sometimes Jean’s girls come to me too?” He sighed

Connie had managed to grab a new glass while Sasha had fallen distracted. He lifted a bottle of vodka over the edge of the counter top, sloppily pouring a bit of it over his hand and onto the table before properly settling into an easy rhythm.

“No more! I’m serious Connie, you’ve had enough and you’re starting to get vulgar.” She snatched the glass just before he could drink from it, pushing it far away from his grasp.

“You bitch I have not!” He argues, it takes a second for him to register from the wide eyed expressions surrounding him just how loud and crass he’d been. “Alright I’m sorry.. please take me home.”

Sasha nods, slapping Connie’s back as she inches him off the stool and to his feet, “Hey I know you’re tired of taking messages tonight but could you maybe..”

“Tell Jean you’re taking Connie home? Sure why the fuck not?”

Armin sighs wrapping his hand around his own glass before it’s snatched from his palm, “You’ve had enough to.” Sasha points “Don’t you dare have another sip tonight.” And with that she’s stumbling through the crowd with Connie’s arm perched over her shoulder.

When Armin stands he almost knocks the chair over. I didn’t think I had that much.. He thinks. He yanks his hoodie from where it’s drooping through the empty back of the chair, pushing the furniture back up when it falls on him. And when he’s properly standing he takes a deep breath, staggering toward the direction the girl from before had pointed in.

Despite how dirty it is and his knowledge of such he rests his pounding skull down on the table upon arrival. The cool wood soothing his overly warm skin.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jean asks as Armin exhales gingerly

“Shut up.” He mutters

‘Too much bourbon I see.” Jean replies

Armin hates it. Hates this party. Hates the noise. Hates how Jean’s nails feel so good running through his sweaty blond hair.

“Come on, talk to me.”

“Girls think I’m the approachable friend.” Armin replies, standing up straight using the table in front of him for support.

“Well yeah.” Jean nods “I know but that’s just cause they don’t understand how cute, nice and charming you actually are. Those girls are missing out going to Eren when the real heartthrob is right in front of them.”

Armin snorts, “You need to stop drinking.”

“I figured right after I called you cute.” Jean slides his glass away turning his attention back to Armin. “ But I wasn’t lying.”

Armin shoots up, finger out towards Jean. “At least eight girls in the three hours we’ve been here have asked about Eren. Two asked about you.”

“Do you know the names of my two?”

“I think it was, I don’t know and the second was I don’t care.”

“Ouch.” Jean pressed a finger to his lip, the black nail polish accented in the strobe lighting. He pressed his chin into his palm leaning in closer to Armin. “Have you ever considered changing your hair? Maybe growing it out or cutting it more?”

“No I-”

The terrible clatter of glasses shook Armin and Jean from their conversation. Three girls all of whom were laughing at nothing now standing in front of them. “Hey!” One greeted

“Hello ladies.” Jean replied back while Armin gritted his teeth.

The girl farthest away snorted, gesturing with her hands to the girl who had spoken up to begin with. “So my friends-” She quickly slapped the third girl on the back who instantly began giggling again. “I’m sorry.”

Jean just nodded glancing at an unamused Armin.

“You know him right?” The first girl tried immediately covering her mouth as though she’d said something completely foul. She pointed across the room at Eren who seemed completely unresponsive to a one sided conversation with a random girl.

“Starting to wish I didn’t..”

“Huh?!” Yelled the third girl

“No, no..” The second girl began “It’s just cause these two like him.” The entire gaggle burst into loud giggles. All three of them pushing their hair away from their eyes and bouncing around like small children.

When the agitating screeching died down the second girl added “We wanna see who he likes best.” She finished

“Is he seeing anyone?” The first girl chimed in

“Not that I know of.” Armin answered

“Do you have his number?” The third girl asked

“I have it.” Jean responded before Armin could even create the sentence in his head.

Jean promptly jotted the number down giving it to the first girl who didn’t hesitate in snatching it from his hand and heading off. The second girl behind her soon followed by the only one from the group that didn’t leave their manners at home. The third girl smiling with an appreciative farewell.

Jean made a small noise in his throat, turning back to Armin with the nail of his thumb pressed under his teeth. “Maybe you should go home?.. You know what I’ll leave with you.”

“Jean, no offense but I don’t want pity.”

“When do you think Eren is gonna wanna leave?”

“I don’t know.” He huffed “I’m gonna go use the bathroom.”

He didn’t wait for Jean’s reply just grabbed his once discarded hoodie and headed through the mess of drunk partygoers towards the bathroom. He didn’t even need to actually use it. Just wanted to be out of sight of all the stupid drunk girls vying for Eren’s affections. Not even realizing that tissue has touched Eren longer than any of them will.

The bathroom door was closed and maybe that was a good thing because it wasn’t extremely likely that Armin wouldn’t stay in there for a couple hours after the night he’s endured. He lets out a long exhale hunting around for his phone. Blond hair sticking up as he slumps against the wall.

“Um hey.” Armin doesn’t even bother to look up. “Is someone in there?”

“Yup.” He grunts

Armin notes the slight shift in the person in front of him. He looks up completely unsurprised by the fleeting glance, the hands crossed behind their back and head bowed.

“Ok.” The girl begins but by this point Armin’s attention is redirected to his phone “My name is Y/N, I wanted to ask you if maybe I could have your number?”

Armin blinks expression completely unchanged as she hands over her phone. He lets his eyes roll around in his head taking the device and robotically typing in Eren’s number in contacts. When he gives it back to her she lets out a little squeak of excitement.

“I’ll call you!” She calls before running off

Wait.. Gears turn like clockwork in his brain. Slowly but surely the situation dawns on him. His number???? Did a girl? Particularly one as cute as her ask for his number??

Granted he’d only seen her for a couple seconds but she was most certainly the most put together girl that had approached him tonight. Clothes neat and tidy. No flopping around like a fish out of water at any point during the conversation. Hair done in a ponytail that wasn’t begging for release from its confines.

And he’d given her Eren’s number..

Shit!

Safe to say Armin bolted. Back down the hall, leaping up to search over the crowding heads all around. Successfully getting weird stares but that was beyond his problems at the moment. Once he’d decided that she wasn’t anywhere around he sprinted through out the door and towards the stairs.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” He called, hearing the sound of footsteps.

His heart collided with his ribcage, loud stomps ensuing as he sprinted around the bend at the bottom of the staircase. She was in his sights, her head turning and eyes making contact with his and just as soon his foot slipped. Body colliding with the first stair, then the second and so on till he’d successfully finished rolling down the entire flight. Slamming into the wall with a hard thud.

“Oh my god Armin!” She settled onto her knees, reaching out for his face. Delicate palms brushing over his sore cheeks. “Are you ok? Never mind, stupid question, let me call an ambulance.”

Blond lashes slowly fluttered close then open as she moved to pull her phone from her pocket. “Before you do.” Armin panted still working to catch his breath. “Can I give you my number? For real this time?”

Ok so this is unedited because I think writers block is trying to take me and I’m trying my hardest to keep it at bay. I have like 5 things in the works at the moment so I really don’t need that.

#armin arlert x reader #armin x reader #attack on titan #aot x reader #i feel so bad making Armin go through this but like it was really fun to write #unedited work #armin fic #armin fluff #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #aot fluff

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

29 G.A.t.W. AU - The C.W.s start 2yrs early bc of Galactic Law EVERY Natborn in the GAR MUST be 18yr old. Obi-Wan is forced to leave behind his young Padawan. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.. Without the Masters being able to be there physically they have to start training programs to help the Pawadans. Every Master now has to teach certain subjects. Anakin finally sees a mind healer & finds inner peaces without the Council breathing down his neck. The Temple Locked Down so No Sith Influenc

so this is a beautiful ask and beautiful future and i followed it like i follow my google maps directions which means maybe 30% of the way but i was watching lord of the rings and thinkin about braids so here is this and i'm very sorry it's what it is

29. Going Away To War AU (Tatooine slave culture, 17!Anakin, preslash/Anakin's pining, mullet!Obi-Wan)(2.3k)

The Padawan braid isn’t the first braid Anakin learns about. It’s not even the fiftieth. By the time Qui-Gon Jinn, Queen Amidala, and Obi-Wan Kenobi land on Tatooine, Anakin is well-versed in the language of braids and what each means. He hadn’t had any of his own yet, seeing as how he was only nine with no accomplishments or triumphs or romantic entanglements to advertise, but if he had stayed on Tatooine, he’d probably have gotten his first braid after he won the podrace.

HIs mother would have done it with gentle hands and a proud smile, and their neighbors would have gathered outside their door to try and be the first one to congratulate him.

Braids are important. They’re sacred. Their style and the beads woven through the strands signify everything important to know about the Tatooinian wearing them. He’d see the freed people’s braids in the marketplace and burn with envy. He’d see a blushing girl braid her lover’s obsidian into his hair to signify courtship, and know one day he’d do the same to someone else. He’d practice his braids until his hands hurt from the motion, wanting to be perfect at it before he’d need to know. After all, as a slave, there wouldn’t be much else he could offer them except beautiful braids and beads.

There is only one braid he doesn’t know the meaning of, and it’s the one that hung down Obi-Wan Kenobi’s shoulder when they first met.

He thinks about asking him, even though it might be considered rude, but before he can, they’re at the Jedi Temple, then on Naboo and then Master Jinn is dead and Obi-Wan’s braid is gone, and Anakin thinks, oh. So the braid means love.

Mourners on Tatooine cut the braids off their dead and then a single braid from their own head, to mean that a part of themselves has died as well. Obi-Wan tries to be extra nice to Obi-Wan after that.

That is, until the man approaches Anakin with a serrated knife and a rueful grin and tells him that because the Council has allowed him to take him as his padawan, it’s time for Anakin to have the Padawan haircut.

The fit Anakin throws at these words could probably be heard back on Tatooine, but his new master must be made of the same strength Lukka crafts the sandstorms from, because an hour later, Anakin is looking at his shorn locks on the floor in a state of horrified shock.

Obi-Wan kneels down at his side as he begins braiding together the lone strand of hair Anakin has been allowed to keep.

“I’m sorry,” his master says quietly. “I know that your hair is very important to you on Tatooine.”

“How will I practice my braids now?” Anakin asks despondently. If he is to have short hair until he’s Obi-Wan’s age (ancient), then he won’t ever be able to practice the courtship braids. The engagement braids. The marriage braids. All the other ones too. Do the Jedi just present their beloveds with sloppy braids?

The thought has him near tears.

Obi-Wan looks very panicked. “Please don’t cry,” he begs. “Jedi apprentices shouldn’t cry.”

Anakin’s vision becomes even more blurred at this. Now he’ll never be able to practice his braids and he’s a bad Jedi.

“Oh blast, that’s not what I meant,” Obi-Wan backtracks, hesitantly putting his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. It’s not very comforting, but it’s the best Anakin has so he resolves to make do and lean into the touch. “Well. You can, uh. You can braid my hair?”

Anakin sniffles. “Your hair is short. And ugly.”

His master laughs and ruffles Anakin’s own short hair. “I’ll grow it out, just for you if it’s that important to you.”

He would? Anakin looks up at him hopefully. That could work. It even makes sense, kind of, for Obi-Wan to let Anakin braid his hair. After all, Anakin’s going to be wearing Obi-Wan’s braid, even though he doesn’t love him yet.

Maybe the Jedi do things differently. Maybe the Jedi weave the braid, and the love comes later.

---

“I remember a young boy telling me my hair was ugly,” his master says consideringly, as he lets himself be pushed to the floor while Anakin clambers onto the bed behind him.

“You bring that up every time, Master,” he sighs as he strokes his hands through Obi-Wan’s admittedly beautiful mane of hair. It’s not as long as he’d like, not really, but it doesn at least go down to his shoulders. “I don’t know how many times you want me to apologize.”

“Oh, just once more,” his master smiles with his voice. Anakin will miss this. Anakin doesn’t know how he’ll live without it, without Obi-Wan’s quiet wit and wry humor, his willingness to indulge Anakin no, even if it’s been eight years of braid-practicing.

“Once more might be all we have time for, Master,” Anakin whispers. His fears are not the sort one can say loudly.

“Do not think like that,” Obi-Wan turns his head to the side just enough so that he can look up at Anakin. “It will be fine. I will be fine.” “You’d be better if I came with you!” Anakin argues loudly. “You know I’m old enough! It’s not fair!”

His voice cracks on the last word, making him wince as Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow.

“The Jedi Council and all Republic legal branches have spoken. We will not take children into a warzone--”

“Then don’t, but I’m almost eightee--”

“--And I agree with them.”

Anakin’s fingers slacken on the strands of hair, loosening the braid. “You do?” he asks, feeling betrayed. “You want to leave me here at the Temple while you go get yourself killed on some Mid-Rim planet?”

“I want you safe, Padawan,” Obi-Wan corrects, breaking away from him so that he may stand up and sit beside him on the bed. “A war is no place for Jedi, but while us knights have no choice but to fight, we would keep our younglings as far from it as possible--even those younglings who are only a few months shy of being eighteen.”

“You’re taking away my choice,” Anakin says quietly, anger abating enough that he has to struggle to hide the fear in his voice. He brings his knees up against his chest and curls tightly into himself. ��What if you die and--and--” he breaks off and pulls useless at his Padawan braid.

He knows what it means now after eight years spent at the Jedi Temple. It’s supposed to denote the Padawan from the Master, and signify the respect an apprentice has for their teacher.

But he’s never been able to shake his original conclusion that it was a representation of love, though he’d never say that aloud.

But when he touches it, sees it in the mirror, he’s reminded only of the love he bears for his master. A guilty, shameful love that takes up too much of his mind and heart. He’d fallen in love with Obi-Wan somehow. Now when Anakin dreams of marriage beads, his fingers are invariably braiding them into coppery blond hair. Now when Anakin dreams of--well, other things, it’s always Obi-Wan’s body beneath his, over his, inside of his, around his--

And now the galaxy is at war, the Knights and Masters of the Jedi Temple called to defend the Republic, and Anakin is too young to follow his master.

“And what, dear one?” Obi-Wan asks gently, hand coming up to unclasp Anakin’s fingers from his braid. “If I die, you will let me go as any Jedi would. I will become one with the Force and you will continue forward.”

Anakin almost wants to shake his shoulders. Doesn’t his master know anything about Anakin at all? How could Obi-Wan say these things as if he believes them? If Obi-Wan were to die--if he were to die away from Anakin, without Anakin--if the unthinkable were to happen--Anakin doesn’t know what he’d do.

A part of himself would die as well, he knows that immediately. He’d cut Obi-Wan’s braid from his hair so that the man could be buried with it, and he’d never weave another.

“Have faith in me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan tells him softly, hand falling to rest on his shoulders. “I will come back. Or perhaps in a few months you will join me.” He sounds falsely enthusiastic, like he’d do anything to keep Anakin away from the war.

As if Anakin would let that happen as soon as he’s legally able to fight.

“Will you let me braid your hair?” he whispers, slowly sitting cross-legged.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says immediately, sinking back to the floor.

“Will you keep them in this time? For as long as you can?” Anakin asks, shily, running his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair slowly, savoring the softness of the strands.

“I will do my best,” his master promises him. “What will they mean?”

“Good fortune,” Anakin replies, seeing the braid come together in his mind’s eye. Yes, good fortune, a plea to the gods who see Obi-Wan in battle to look the other way. To take someone else instead. He gets to work, collecting a chunk of hair on the left side of Obi-Wan’s temple to braid back.

Nothing’s fixed. Nothing’s better. The person Anakin’s pretty sure is the love of his life will be sent out to fight tomorrow at dawn, and he might die never knowing how Anakin feels about him.

But it’s not like Anakin can tell him either, not when he’s seventeen. Not when he’s Obi-Wan’s Padawan.

He’s always planned to wait until after he’s been Knighted, after Obi-Wan has been given enough time to see Anakin as a man who has a choice whether or not to love him. And, yes, the Code forbids attachment and Jedi cannot marry, but it’s not like Anakin would ever be able to marry Obi-Wan legally even on Tatooine.

But he could give him the braids, if Obi-Wan wanted. That way, when they both died, in their sleep of natural causes, the Goddess Leia knows to keep their souls intertwined as she transports them to their afterlife.

Anakin’s fingers pause as he thinks of something that would make him feel better.

He bites his lip. His mother would disapprove. To give the braids to someone without their knowledge is heavily frowned upon.

Anakin winces, even as his hands change direction. These are extenuating circumstances. There’s a lot at stake here. Anakin can’t risk a life and an afterlife without his master. And he’s going to ask him eventually. Just not now. Just not yet.

The braids for good fortune form a crown over one’s head. The braids for marriage…

They start similarly enough at the temples, but connect to each other at the back of the head, where a third braid is begun. Then each braid is braided into each other. The left braid represents the braider. The right braid represents their beloved. The third braid that begins when the two meet represents the life that they will create together.

Anakin holds the three braids loosely in his hands, staring down at them in some sort of surreal shock. This is not the circumstances he has imagined doing this under, but he’s heartbroken. Not when it’s Obi-Wan who will be wearing his braids.

“Dear one?” Obi-Wan asks, breaking the heavy silence. “I do not mean to rush you, but my knees are starting to hurt.”

“You’re so old,” Anakin quips back, stroking a thumb over one of the braids, the right one--Obi-Wan’s.

“And you are so very young,” Obi-Wan retorts. “The two of us together is the equivalent of one good soldier.”

Anakin’s heart pauses for a second. “Would you want that?” he asks nonsensically.

“What?”

“If you could choose. If I were eighteen. Would you want to be…” Just as suddenly as he gained that sudden burst of confidence, he loses it. He sighs, mostly in disappointment at himself.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan prompts.

“You’d want me there with you if I weren’t too young, wouldn’t you, master?” Anakin finally says.

Obi-Wan hesitates, and Anakin’s chest feels tight. “I would want you safe, regardless of age, dear one,” he settles on saying.

Anakin’s fingers clench down on the almost complete marriage braids. “But if there were no war,” he forges ahead. “If the war never happened. You wouldn’t want to leave me behind. You’d want to stay together.”

Anakin can just imagine the furrowed eyebrows Obi-Wan must be sporting as he tries to figure out what Anakin wants from him.

“Just answer the question,” Anakin begs, tightening his hold on the braids to prevent Obi-Wan from turning around.

“You are my Padawan, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says slowly. “And someone who will one day be my partner, my friend. I would like...very much to be allowed to see you finish growing into the fine man you will be. The one that in many ways you already are.”

“And then?” Anakin asks doggedly. “When we’re both knights. And you’re assigned...a mission. And you get to choose your partner. And it’s me or. Or someone else. I don’t care. Who would you choose?”

“Well, I suppose it would depend on if this fabricated mission depends on stealth. Secrecy. The ability to tell a believable falsehoo--”

“I’m being serious,” Anakin insists, cutting his master off. He almost wants to drop the braids, let them fall apart. Clearly Obi-Wan doesn’t...perhaps won’t ever--

“It’d be you,” Obi-Wan murmurs very quietly, as if afraid to speak louder. “We are better together than we are separate.”

Anakin blinks and then smiles, only a little teary-eyed at his master’s confession. “Yes, Master,” he agrees, finally--finally--braiding the three braids together and tying them off neatly. He pictures the material of their souls responding the same way that Obi-Wan’s hair has. The thought makes him feel equal parts giddy and guilty.

“After all, someone needs to make sure you don’t crash every ship in the Jedi Temple,” Obi-Wan continues dryly.

“Yes, Master,” Anakin agrees again, running a hand lightly over his work.

He’ll tell him when he’s a Knight. Really.

#mmmmm i like to think obi-wans just like. at a spaceport or something wearing these braids when anakin's 19/20 #almost a knight #and someone from tatooine sees the braids and compliments him on how nice they look and how pretty #because being well cared for is also a signn of a good marriage #and obi-wan is like 'thank you my padawan did them #and the person is like 'padawan? i havent heard that word before. is it the word for husband in your language'#and obi-wan is just ext.crash #asks #my fics #obikin #(anakin is so mortified and obi-wan DEFINITELY chews him out but then he uh notices the next day that obi-wan...didn't take the braids out)#and then anakin is like ext.crash #prompt fill #braid au

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