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aceandersonn · 4 months

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The Older Sibling-PART ONE

Main Masterlist

Character Masterlist

(Anakin Skywalker x GN!reader)

Word Count: 4377 words

Outline: Reader is desperate to find a job and lands one babysitting one of the richest kids in town. Excited to start, reader eventually meets the older brother of the kid they're babysitting, and finds out he's the biggest jerk (and most handsome) man in town

Warning(s): MATURE CONTENT: Swearing, kissing without consent, Anakin being a jerk for no reason, enemies to lovers trope ig

Story below the cut

You were doing anything to get a job. All your debts from college were building up quicker than you liked and you were overwhelmed with the idea of being sent to jail for having too much money due.

So you found yourself getting a job as a nanny. Yes, a nanny. You were to look after a young girl around the age of 7 all day and prepare all meals for her. The job was simple enough. Now being a graduate from University, you no longer have to worry about studying for things and getting good grades.

What made this job hard was you weren’t working for some random family that you found online that needed a job. You were working for the incredibly wealthy family that seemed to ‘rule’ the small town you lived in. The Skywalkers.

They owned just about every successful business. And, they were also related to the Mayor of the town. Which is quite a big deal.

So, when you pulled up to the Skywalker residence almost five minutes late, you were worried that you were going to get fired immediately. But, you still held your breath and prayed to the Maker that your day would go just fine and you wouldn't have to worry about job hunting for at least a few years now.

When the door was opened, you were confused to see someone you didn’t even recognise. He was at least 6 feet, and he looked like he was about to just slam the door back into your face when he made eye contact with you.

“Um. . .” You trailed off.

“Who are you and what do you want?” The man asked you.

“I-” You began but were interrupted when an older lady walked up behind and practically shoved him out of the way.

“Hello dear! You must be Y/N! I am so glad you came, I hope Mr. Windu didn’t frighten you off. He’s just our home's security guard since we have had a few break-ins over the years. He might look scary but I promise you he’s a big teddy bear (Mr. Windu huffed at that, to which the Lady smiled to) Well, nevermind that! Come in, come in! Ahsoka can’t wait to meet her new caretaker. And did I mention how grateful I am for your help? I can go on and on all day about it.”

She waved you into the house and you followed in, the door being slammed behind you.

You smiled when you made eye-contact with the woman and immediately recognised her. Shmi Skywalker.

“Mother, who is this?” You heard a small voice call out from behind you. You turned around and noticed a small, young girl standing straight. She wore a pretty red dress that flowed off her waist elegantly and her hair was tied up into two french braids that went past her shoulders. She had bright blue eyes and she had small freckles dotting her face. You had to admit: She was one adorable little girl.

“Hello there,” You smiled. “You must be Ahsoka. I am your new caretaker, Y/N.”

The young girl grinned and ran up to you and gave you a tight hug.

“Hi! I am so so happy you are finally here! My older brother left for work and I was gonna die of boredom.”

You giggled at the young girl’s dramatic speech and grasped her hand firmly.

“Why don’t you show me where you usually play?” You asked her with a twinkle of mischief in your voice.

“I’m so glad to see you both are getting along just fine.” Shmi interrupts you with a happy tone of voice. You turned your head to meet her gaze and gave her a small smile.

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity, Mrs. Skywalker.”

“Not a problem dear. Now I have some work to do. I won’t be back till at least 12 tonight. So feel free to take the spare room near Ahsoka’s room. Since I often am out late, you can expect to find yourself there quite often if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, Ma’am. I brought enough things for one night.” You politely replied.

“Splendid! Well, Ahsoka darling, I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early, hopefully.”

Shmi opened her arms for a hug and Ahsoka broke from your grasp and ran to her mother.

“Good-bye Mother! I love you.” Ahsoka whispered. Shmi gave her a small peck on her cheek before she rushed out the door. When the door closed behind her, you faced Ahsoka and gave her a small and cheeky smile.

“So, what do you want to do?” You asked her.

“I want to dress up! And also, can we bake some cookies?” Ahsoka asked with puppy dog eyes. You giggled at her interesting combo of activities.

“Sure, but you have to choose which one you want to do first.”

Ahsoka stood completely still for a moment before she grins.

“How about we dress up AND bake at the same time? We could pretend we are in the 1800’s and we sell baked goods for a living!” Ahsoka beamed over her idea and your heart just about melted. The way a child’s imagination works always fascinated you. You for one never had much of a childhood since you came from a poorer family and worked to help as long as you could remember. But you never let that stop you from supporting children who are fortunate to do what they want and when they wanted.

“Sure.” You grabbed Ahsoka’s hand before deciding to pick her up. “Now, how about you show me where your room is so we can get changed?”

+++

About two hours later, you both were dressed in robes that Ahsoka found in her dress up closet and had completed a nice batch of chocolate-chip cookies. By the time lunch came around, Ahsoka had almost four cookies and was high from the sugar and was (literally) bouncing off of walls.

You then decided it was best for the both of you to go outside to the backyard and play out there for a while to get rid of some of her built up energy. Ahsoka was of course running around the whole time. It wasn’t until about an hour later that she was completely drained of sugar and with heavy feet walked back to where you had seated on the porch overlooking the large yard.

“Hello Ahsoka, are you okay?” You asked when you noticed her attitude had changed from her usual cheery self. She nodded and sat beside you before she leant her head onto your shoulder.

“I am okay.I just miss my older brother, Y/N.” She whimpered as tears began to fill her eyes. You hugged her from the side and rested your chin on her small head.

“It’s alright, I’m pretty sure he misses you too.”

“I don’t think so. He is an adult now and he’s never ever home to play with me.” Ahsoka said with a pout. “I believe that big brother has replaced me with his job and loves his job more than me.”

“What’s your older brother's name?” You asked her with a gentle tone. Ahsoka’s facial expression changed from one of anger to one of joy within a few seconds. And from that observation, you realised that she seemed to love talking about her older brother.

“His name is Kinny. Or at least that’s what I call him. I don’t ever call him by his real name because he thinks it’s stupid. Also, some of his friends call him Vader. But I personally believe that name is dumber” Ahsoka shrugged. You hummed at the new information before you pulled out your phone to get an idea about the time.

“Well, it’s around supper time now. Are you hungry for anything in particular?” You asked the young girl. Ahsoka nodded slowly before a familiar mischievous grin graced her features.

“Can we have cookies for dinner?”

You let out a small laugh at the response before you shook your head.

“You have had way too many cookies for today, young one. I think we should save some for your older brother when he gets home.”

Ahsoka seemed pleased with the arrangement and agreed.

+++

After about an hour or so you had Ahsoka go to bed. After she fell asleep, you decided to go downstairs to read a book that you brought with you to entertain yourself until you decided that it was your bedtime. You sighed quietly and continued to flip through the book, but your ears perked up when you heard the front door open. You sat up straight when you remembered that Mrs. Skywalker said she wouldn’t be home as early as 12, and it currently was around 9pm. You peered over the top of your book and noticed someone was standing in front of you.

“Um. . .hi?” you cringed at the question. The stranger, (being a young man of at least older than 20 years of age) gave you a questioning look. From the looks of it, he was at least 6 foot 2 and had an even scarier appearance than the guy you met this morning at the door. He had ocean blue eyes and a scar ran down the left side of his cheek.

You gulped quietly when you noticed he began to walk over to you slowly.

“Who are you? And what are you doing in my house?” he asked you. That was when you realised who this man was. It was the other Skywalker; Ahsoka’s older brother. Kinny? Was that his name?

“I’m Y/N. Who are you?” You asked with the most confidence you could muster. The man raised a brow at the question.

“You don’t know who I am?” He asked you with amusement in his eyes. You nodded way too quickly for your own liking. But he was making you nervous and you didn’t exactly want to respond with words at the moment. You feared you would accidentally say something wrong and get kicked out of the house before your brain could even process it.

“Seriously?”

You made eye-contact with the stranger again and raised your brow this time.

“Seriously what?”

“You really have no idea who I am?”

“No? Am I supposed to?” You sheepishly answered and nearly squealed when the stranger took another step closer to you.

“I am Anakin Skywalker. How the heck do you not know that? I like-run multiple businesses that are scattered across this town. Including The Order? You know, the biggest arcade and restaurant in town?”

You stood there dumb-found when you realised who he really was. Anakin Skywalker. The Anakin Skywalker. You had heard about him from your group of girl friends who all simp over him like love-sick animals. But you never paid much attention to those sorts of things. You didn’t even have any social media accounts since you used a crappy flip-phone. Even though the Skywalker’s were basically the rulers of the small town of Coruscant, you never cared much to find out who they really were and what they looked like.

“I wouldn’t know. I have never been to an arcade.” You told him with a shy smile when you saw his face go from one of curiosity to bewilderment.

“What?! What rock have you been hiding under?” he rudely replied to the new information.

You rolled your eyes at his response before you continued to read the book you sat down before the conversation began. It was quite obvious that this small action added fuel to the fire; and it took a second for you to realise that your book was snatched out of your hands and thrown onto the floor.

“Hey, why did you do that?” you calmly asked him. You weren’t someone who often looked for trouble, it went against all the things your beloved parents ever taught you.

“Why do you think?! I was talking to you and you decided to ignore me!” He shouted. In his fit of rage he brought his hand up to his hair and pulled on it. You watched the scene he was making unravel with a straight face. It was incredibly difficult seeing a grown man act like a five year old child.

“Umm for the record Mr. Skywalker, you were basically scrutinising how I live my life. I don’t care what you think, and I don’t do what every other person in this town does. So leave me be and get on with your evening. Good-night.” At those words, you stood up from where you were seated and walked to the book Anakin had earlier grabbed and thrown to the floor. But as you began to walk away, your arm was grabbed and you were pulled into the very strong chest of Anakin Skywalker.

“I wasn’t done talking to you.” Anakin said calmer than before. You tried to pull away from his grip but it was no use. He was incredibly strong. You sighed in frustration.

“I just wanted to say, I’m sorry you're such a Hobbit and don’t search for adventure.” Anakin grinned at his stupid joke. You however dryly laughed before you kicked him in the shins and began to walk to the room you were given.

“Why you fucking-I’LL TELL MY MOTHER!” He yelled before he practically bounded up the stairs to what you assume was his room and heard a door slam shut.

“What a prick.” you said to yourself calmly before closing the doors to your own room.

+++

You woke up early the next morning and got dressed into comfortable clothing for the day. You wore a nice pair of jeans and a large sweater since it was a bit chilly outside.

You decided to start up breakfast for Ahsoka since it was part of your job to do so. There was a small decision between pancakes and porridge. Eventually, you decided to make some pancakes and began to look around the kitchen for the ingredients.

After about ten minutes or so, you jumped at the sound of a coffee machine turning on. You looked up from what you were doing and noticed a very-much grumpy Anakin Skywalker. His arms were folded and his hair was matted to his face. You sheepishly smiled at him before turning around and continuing on with what you were doing before.

“What are you doing?” you heard a groggy voice. You turned back around and noticed Anakin was standing directly behind you.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you attempted to shove him back a ways. He smirked at your failure before he stepped up closer to you. He could feel him breathing down your neck and you shivered. You turned around and your face was mere millimetres away from his. You gulped and attempted to move away from him but found you were stuck between the counter and him.

“What do you mean? I’m just standing here.” He grinned when he realised he’s struck a tick that bothers you.

“You're way too close to me. Can you move back a few steps? Actually, a few feet?” You once more attempted to push him back but he just stood his ground and didn’t even move a centimetre. You groaned aloud in annoyance and just turned around and attempted to ignore his presence.

Meanwhile, Anakin was having the thrill of his life. He wanted to watch what you were doing and wanted to be as close as possible. Y/N (and whatever your last name was) was interesting to him. He never met someone so young who lived in a way you did. You couldn’t have been much younger than he was, and he was about to turn 24 in a few months. He decided to test dangerous waters and stept even closer to you. His body pressed against your own; he let out a nervous breath when he noticed you continued to do what you were doing and completely ignored his existence.

Meanwhile, you were having a literal heart attack. Like what the actual fuck is this man doing? Isn’t this illegal?

Your head swarmed with many questions and before you realised it, the pancake batter was done. The only problem being Anakin standing literally behind you.

“You may as well fuse with my body, Skywalker,” you told him when you realised he still wouldn’t let you move.

“I wouldn't mind that.” He said to himself.

“What?” You asked, confused on what he was mumbling about.

“You know,” he began, a smirk growing across his handsome face. “Instead of sitting on babies, maybe you should sit on my lap?” Anakin flirted.

You just about froze at what you heard. Who does he think he is? Sitting on babies?

“Bloody hell? What are you on about?” you paled.

“You're my sister's babysitter are you not?” He asked.

“I-yes?” you were still confused. That was until you thought about the fact that he said ‘babysitter’. You sighed heavily when you realised you are practically gonna look after two children instead of just one that was already pretty mature for such a young age.

“Skywalker, I am trying to make breakfast. I would appreciate it if you would get out of my bloody way.”

“Woah, chill out. I wasn’t trying to make you angry.”

You just about tackled him to the ground when you heard that. You made eye contact with him and tried to look threatening. But to no avail, you found yourself immediately looking away. His face was angelic. His bright blue eyes, curly dirty-blonde hair; and the grin he sent you made him look even more handsome.

You decided to just once again ignore him and began to cook the pancakes on the stove. You were glad when you didn’t feel him standing behind you anymore. But when you turned around to serve plates, you ran right into him once more.

You were about to yell at him when you felt him grab a hold of your waist and you felt lips connect with yours. It took you a few seconds to realise you were kissing him; and completely by accident. You didn’t kiss back as you were frozen in complete and utter shock. You looked up and noticed Anakin was looking at you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher.

But one thing for sure you did know, was how pissed you were about the situation.

“Huh, that’s never happened to me before. And it took, what, only a few hours for you to try and make out with me?” Anakin said with a cocky tone of voice. Your head nearly blew up in rage when he said that. Make out with him? Mate, you must be mental. You took steady breaths to try and calm yourself down.

“You-” you paused when you got a hold of yourself. “You just stole my first kiss, you bastard.”

Much to your surprise you watched Anakin smile at you.

“That makes it even better then, can I kiss you again? And what do you even mean by ‘steal’? You kissed me, not the other way around.”

You could feel tears begin to settle in your eyes but you held them back.

“I didn’t even want to kiss you the first time, you sorry excuse of a human.” You said with a shaky voice. As your mother had always said, it’s usually the men that were incredibly handsome that caused a lot of anger and heartbreak. And she was right. You always thought it was a joke to protect you from doing dumb things, but now, you realised she wasn’t that wrong. Your first kiss was stolen, by a stuck up, rude prick.

Anakin looked taken aback at your statement.

“What do you mean you didn’t want to kiss me? Everyone wants to kiss me.” That was all it took for you to confirm that Anakin Skywalker was a hot-headed, self-centred, arrogant man.

You huffed at him and finished serving plates. After you made the last plate you saw a familiar face walk up to you in the large kitchen.

“Good-morning Ahsoka, did you sleep well?” you asked her with a cheery voice. Anakin raised his brow when he noticed your change in attitude.

Ahsoka nodded and walked up to stand next to you. She reached up to grab a plate for herself and you helped her. She giggled in thanks and ran towards the dinning room to eat her food.

“Little prick didn’t even say ‘hi’ to me.” you heard a very grumpy Anakin complain.

“Maybe if you were a ‘good big brother that spent time with her often,’ she’d say ‘hi’ to you.” You smirked before grabbing your own plate and walked to the dining room to find Ahsoka.

+++

Breakfast was over quickly and you began to clean up the mess from it. Anakin had left shortly after he snatched a couple of pancakes to do who knows what. You were quite glad he was no longer there to mope around and cause trouble.

“Y/N! Can we go to the aquarium today? I want to see mermaids and fishes!” Ahsoka practically screamed when you finished putting the last plate into the dishwasher.

“The aquarium? Which one? There are many here.”

“Kamino Aquarium, obviously.”

You gulped. Of course the young Skywalker has been to the most extravagant aquarium Coruscant had to offer.

“How about we go somewhere else? Like the park or the public pool? It’s a far drive to Kamino and back.”

Ahsoka hummed in thought. She made a face that uncannily looked like the one Anakin made when he was teasing you-wait, why are you thinking about Anakin?

You shook your head at your thoughts and looked back at Ahsoka who seemed to know what she wanted to do.

“Can we go to the Park? It’s close to where Kinny works and he might stop by and say hello.”

Your smile dropped and you felt like frowning. Of course that insolent pup is going to be there. You brought your hand up to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose.

“Sure, ‘Soka, we can go to the park.” You sighed through your nose and began to head up to your temporary room to grab your things. Ahsoka jumped up and down in excitement and ran to her room to get herself ready.

+++

“Y/n! Looky! Kinny is here!” Ahsoka shouted at the top of her lungs. You watched her jump off the swings she was on and bound towards the entrance of the small playground. You didn’t even turn around to acknowledge the presence of the other adult. Instead, you crossed your arms and legs and sat with gritted teeth on the small bench that overlooked the park.

“And hello to you too, Y/n/n.” you heard a familiar voice. You rolled your eyes and turned to face the culprit of all your troubles of the past 24 hours.

“Y/n/n? Really? Already on nicknames?” you huffed in annoyance.

“Yup. And you can call me anything you want as well.”

“How about dumbarse?” You said through clenched teeth.

Anakin chuckled and shook his head.

“Careful, Y/n/n, we have a pair of young ears listening.”

“Kinny, what is dumb arms?” Ahsoka asked innocently. Anakin snorted and you choked on the air you were breathing.

“Umm. . .he isn’t able to control his arms.” you said, hoping she would accept the answer. Anakin raised a brow at that, and was about to argue before Ahsoka bursted into a fit of giggles.

“Kinny, is that why you have people at your workshop help you? You can’t lift weights? I thought you were a strong person.”

“Wha-? I am! Y/n doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Nuh uh, she went to adult school and you only went to teen school. She is, therefore, smarter than you.” Ahsoka stuck her tongue out at Anakin, before getting bored with the conversation and scurried off towards the play set where other kids her age were playing.

“Really? That was the best you could think of?”

“Well, I’m so sorry, but you weren’t gonna talk so I did.”

“Now my sister thinks I am incapable of doing things.”

“From what I’ve seen of you? You’re not totally incapable.” you said, suddenly interested in picking the skin around your nails.

“Really? Like what?” You smirked at his reply. He was a compliment seeker. How convenient, time to hurt his pathetically large ego.

“You’re exceptionally good at making a terrible first impression. Your flirting skills are mediocre, and you throw more tantrums than a four year old.”

You looked back up to see his reaction, and was confused to see him grinning ear-to-ear.

“You don’t like the way I flirt? Tell me, what do you like then?”

Your jaw dropped to the ground. What the heck is this man on? You basically just degraded him and he wasn’t even going to acknowledge it? You felt something touch your knee and noticed it was his hand. You didn’t even see him sit down next to you, that and the fact he’s basically trying to sit on you.

“S-Skywalker, can you please move? You're in my personal space.” You tried to push him back.

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? I already gave you a reason.”

“No, not that.”

“Then what, Skywalker?” You groaned in annoyance. You felt his hand begin to move up to your thigh and your breath got caught in your throat. This was definitely illegal.

“Why do you hate me so much? Why don’t you like me?” He whispered.

“I don’t hate you. I just really despise you and how you act. You were rather rude to me last night, and you kissed me without my consent.”

“I didn’t kiss you, you kissed me.”

“Look, it doesn’t matter ‘who kissed who’, it still happened and you tried to make a joke out of it.”

“I was just teasing you-”

“No, Anakin. You shouldn’t do that to people. It ninety-nine percent of the time rubs them the wrong way.” With that, you stood up from the bench and walked to where Ahsoka was playing.

“C’mon, let’s go home.”

PART TWO OUT SOON

#x reader #star wars #anakin #fanfic #x y/n #clone wars #modern au #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker #modern!anakin

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chimaeraonwards · 4 months

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Pendatang and why I think it's important for the fight against censorship

Malaysia's first fully crowd funded film is finally out and its free on YouTube!!!

youtube

(btw its fully subtitled in English, Malay, Chinese (Simplified), and Tamil for those who want it)

Pendatang by Kuman Pictures is set in a dystopian future where, due to racial extremism, Malaysia is fully segregated. Citizens live in their own areas based on their race and mixing between the races is punishable by 25 years in prison.

The story centers around a Malaysian Chinese family who is forced to relocate to a designated house by the authorities but they find a Malay girl hiding in their attic.

Anyone who is familiar with the Malaysian film scene would be wondering, "A Malaysian movie about race and inequality? How the fuck did this movie get through the censorship board?". Well, easy. They didn't even try.

In the name of keeping peace in the country, The Malaysian Film Censorship Board (Lembaga Penapis Filem - LPF) is notorious for censoring local movies to the point it loses its impact or keeping movies in a limbo for years. But films need LPF's approval to be able to release theatrically local cinemas.

The makers of Pendatang knew that this film wouldn't have made it past the censorship board or any other kinds of local governmental/commercial release or funding channel. So from the start, they set out to crowd fund this movie to release it for free online - where the LPF has no jurisdiction.

They managed to raise past their goal of RM300k (which is about slightly less than 100k USD). And one year later, they've kept their word - the movie is available on YouTube for free with no ads (making it a non-profit movie).

This is what the makers have to say about this move and what they hope it achieves:

So not only is it a badass move to bypass censorship and non-profit, its also a ground breaker and this opens up a whole new avenue for Malaysian filmmakers.

But it can't be that bad, can it? Well here are some films that weren't so lucky with the LPF.

Mentaga Terbang a story about a young girl's religious journey after her mother's passing to find out what happens after death. It was banned in Malaysia.

Tiger Stripes, the Cannes award winning teenage body horror film detailing a girl's journey with womanhood. It was so heavily cut by LPF that the filmmaker has disowned the censored version and has come out to say that essence was removed from the movie.

Spilt Gravy on Rice is a dark comedy based on a play of the same name. It is a story about a journalist who is close to death and decides to fix his family issues with his 5 kids who all have different mothers. The film was submitted for approval in 2012 and was forced to make changes (including an alternate ending) and was finally approved in 2020. Due to covid, the premiere was delayed till 2022. The original playwright, Jit Murad, passed earlier that year and never got to see his story in the big screen. You can find the film with its original ending on Netflix now.

This is why a movie like Pendatang is so important. Some suspect that Pendatang will be taken down or blocked by the government. I hope it won't.

Malaysian filmmakers want to share good stories that shouldn't be watered down. Malaysian voices want to be heard and shouldn't be unnecessarily filtered and censored.

#pendatang #pendatang movie #media censorship #censorship #malaysia #film #mentaga terbang #tiger stripes #spilt gravy on rice #image id in alt text

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lincolndjarin · 8 months

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this is a request!! i would loveeee to see desperate din and him begging. he’s always in the suit and never really around people so it would make so much sense for him to be touch starved and needy. like he meets reader for the first time and all his needs and feelings he ignored for years come to the front and he’s just down bad 😩

a/n : sorry this took forever to get around!! i haven't written drabbles before so i hope this is okay <3 thank you for the request !! (i read online that some people get annoyed when drabbles are over 100 words if that is true feel free to tell me to knock it off LMAO cause some people say its just a short fic so idk i'm lost and know nothing.)

anyways, i changed a little bit of your request to keep it short, hope that's okay!!

pairing : din djarin x afab!reader

word count : 0.6k

warning : 18+ mdni, smut, no plot this is just porn, sorta sub!din, begging, din's lowkey a boob man in this, nipple stuff idk the proper tag here sorry, praise, premature ejaculation lowkey (din gets a little over excited), handjobs

It was surprisingly easy to convince him to take the armor off. Almost like he was waiting for you to ask, from there he was putty in your hands, crawling into the sleeping cubby, panting before you've even touched him.

It's too dark to see him but you can feel how different this is from the quickies in the cockpit or the stress induced sex against the side of the ship from a mission gone wrong. His kisses are hot and feverish against you skin as he latches onto your nipple with a whimper. You've never felt his mouth on your flesh and suddenly it's your greatest regret. Denying yourself such a thing. Attentive is an understatement, his tongue lapping at the meat of your chest, wanting feel the weight of it in his mouth.

"Maker, Mando, slow down..." You laugh breathlessly, nothing could have prepared you for the whimper against your breast. You feel the line of spit as he pulls away briefly.

"Please?" His voice has never sounded like this, an unfamiliar breathy whine is stifled as his lips wrap themselves back around your nipple, lewd wet sounds filling the tiny space. His cock rests fully erect between your thighs, the warmth coming off of him is suffocating as he groans against your breasts, burying his head between them.

You feel the vibration on his lips as he moans against you.

"M-More, more, please." He drags his mouth from your chest to your throat, settling there now, it's like he's trying to find your pulse with his tongue.

After that it's like the words are being pulled out of you, you aren't sure where they come from, you've never talked like this before.

"More what, sweet boy?"

His hips snap forward seeming involuntarily, you can feel him starting to grind against your thigh, desperate for whatever he can get.

"More you." He mumbles, high pitched and demanding.

You let your hands touch everything.

The parts of him no ones seen, let alone touched, in decades.

It's like every single inch of his skin is sensitive. You scrape your nails down his back and sound you draw from him is downright pornographic.

He gives up on any attempt to keep his mouth on you, he's too busy writhing and begging when your hands travel southing, running your fingers through the dark thatch of curls that starts on the bottom of his stomach.

"Touch me- please touch me. I'll be good, I promise to be good just touch me." He's positively breathless by the time you wrap your hand around his stiff and aching cock.

You watched him kill three people today, with zero hesitation. The most ruthless killer you've ever known. And right now he's humping your leg and biting your shoulder to muffle the obscene sounds he's making.

You let one hand travel back up, pinching his nipples, trying to draw more of those delicious noises from him.

With that he's trembling. There's no more words as you start to stroke his length, alternating between his nipples with pinches and soothing rubs of your thumb over the pebbled buds.

You don't even have to move your other hand, you simply hold it still as he fucks it, his head resting beside yours, the only sounds you can hear are his gasps for air and soft airy moans.

It takes a minute at most.

It's the fastest he's ever finished with you.

Normally he finishes with a low groan but now the only sound filling the cubby is a drawn out, shaky whine.

You feel his release against your palm. Hot and sticky as he rides it out, rutting against you until he's finally satisfied, murmuring a slurred "Thank you, thank you, thank you." against your skin.

You turn your head to press a kiss into his temple.

"Good boy."

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vivwritescrappythings · 3 months

Text

And They Were Roommates

modern!Hobie Brown x Reader

My first ever fanfiction posted online.

TW: afab!reader, she/her pronouns, drinking, bad writing?, very OOC Hobie, didn’t write the accent or slang please don’t come for me.

Word Count: 12.9k

masterlist

——

The apartment is cold when you wake up, the crappy heater barely able to keep up with the frigid air outside. Getting out of bed takes some coaxing on your part, the quilt warm around your limbs. But you are determined to have a good day.

You emerge from your bed with tangled hair, clad in panties and a shirt you had stolen from your roommate. It was soft and a little faded from its times through the spin cycle, and it was all the better for it.

It’s already 11 in the morning by the time you start making coffee. The smell of the grounds revive you as you measure the portion out, carefully leveling and scooping like it was second nature. You can hear the floorboards creaking, the building settling.

“Cold?” Hobie asks from behind you, though you’re not sure when he snuck up on you during the process of waking up. He moves his arm around your shoulders and gently pulls you to lean on his chest. As far as roommates went, you existed in an odd limbo between roommates, friends, and lovers.

“A bit,” you say, your voice still thick with sleep. You tuck your nose against his arm. His skin is so warm it almost feels like it burns you as you set the coffee to brew.

“You’re lucky I’m so warm,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth to the crown of your head. It sounds like he wants to say something else. That’s the thing with Hobie, he’s always been great at keeping his secrets.

You can feel him smile against your hair, the curve of his lips something between sweet and mischievous. “Or maybe I’m lucky to have you here,” Hobie says, his accent deep and lilting over each word.

You roll your eyes at his affections, your mind snapping back to being kept up late into the night by his recent escapade. “Did that girl you brought home last night already leave?” you ask bluntly, watching the coffee drip into the pot. The fact that he brought a girl home yesterday makes you have a bitter taste on your tongue. But, honestly, you have no right to be upset with him over it.

“Yeah,” Hobie says after a moment’s hesitation, shrugging. The nonchalance he is trying to brush it off with seems practiced. “She was nice…” he trails off, seemingly leaving things out. “Why?”

“Just asking,” you say, still watching the drip drip drip of the coffee maker, “or you wouldn’t be out here sucking up all my warmth.” A last ditch effort to try and lighten the mood to save the morning.

He scoffs and tries to sound indignant, “Like I’d want to suck up your warmth.” But he’s smiling and still keeping your shoulders trapped against his chest.

“Mhm, whatever you say,” you murmur, idly tidying the kitchen counter in front of you as you wait for enough coffee to brew. Hobie shifts, pressing his own cold nose to the back of your neck.

The warmth of your body against his and the feeling of Hobie’s lips and nose on the back of your neck sends a chill up your spine. Even if neither of you admit it, you both know that you mean more to one another than just roommates or even friends. It’s in the way he holds you, always with a sense of gentle ownership and care. When Hobie is around, he wants to keep you safe and warm, and you love to let him.

You almost melt into Hobie’s touch, but the memory of running into that girl from whatever concert he went to comes back. She was in the bathroom you shared, using your makeup wipes and expensive lotion. You manage not to stiffen in his embrace, but you start to shift to execute your morning activities as though Hobie isn’t hanging off of you like a human sized backpack.

As you look for your coffee mug in the pile of clean dishes, Hobie’s free hand moves to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear and stroke your back. It’s a gesture of comfort and affection, so natural that sometimes you wonder if Hobie even considers what he’s doing. You feel the tension in your muscles ease and relax despite your best efforts. You can’t stay angry with him, he’s allowed to flirt, allowed to sleep with whoever he wants. You aren’t in a relationship. You should want him to find someone, to be happy, but the idea of it makes your heart ache.

You huff out a breath through your nose, frustrated by your own train of thought. You look at the clock on the stove, it’s already approaching noon. Some days being Hobie’s roommate was harder than others, and today is already shaping up to be one of those days that hurts.

Hobie kisses the back of your neck softly and leans even closer to you, adjusting so his chin is on your shoulder and his cheek is against your hair. The feeling of his skin against the curve of your shoulder is like a warm and soothing balm—but it also makes your stomach twist with disappointment.

Guilt washes over you even though it has no reason to. You want to turn around and look at him, you want to feel his even gaze burn into you. You want to tell him everything you desire—everything you need. But your voice is stuck in your throat.

Not to mention, he doesn’t even know you want it. The wall between your rooms is thin, you’ve heard countless “I don’t want anything serious”, “just was messing around”, “no labels” conversations that Hobie has had with the women and men he brings to his bed. Sometimes you want to go talk to them on their way out to commiserate in the heartbreak.

Your heart lurches as Hobie’s words run through your head. All the time you’ve lived together, how many times has he said that speech to someone? You want to deny it, to tell yourself that what he tells them is different than how he feels about you and what you’ve done together. But you heard it with your own ears.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push away the feeling that he means it. He means it every time.

“What are your plans for today?” you ask, realizing that you and Hobie have just been in silence for the past five minutes.

Hobie looks up at you, you can see a slight weariness in his eyes at your question. It’s moments like this that you think this is it. Time to ask or just drop it and move on. His eyes fix on yours and you can tell he’s searching for something to say.

“Nothing really,” he says, shrugging. “I was probably just gonna stay in. Read.”

You extract yourself from Hobie’s arms, moving to the dishes you had left in the kitchen sink last night. You start to run the water, waiting for it to warm as it flows over your fingers. “Are you finally gonna read the book I loaned to you a few months ago?” you ask, he moves to stand beside you.

Hobie’s eyes harden with slight annoyance, but he takes a moment to respond. “Not yet,” he murmurs. His voice is cautious and even lower than usual. He doesn’t like conflict, nor does he like the feeling of being cornered—especially not by you.

“What are you up to later?” he asks, giving up on that path of conversation. It was a safe move, a way to distance himself and avoid any possibility of a serious discussion. He’s good at this sort of thing. Hobie has always been difficult to catch.

“Do you remember what day it is?” you ask, any hope that Hobie actually knows what day it is dissipating quickly. Your hands are soapy as you vigorously clean the bowl in the sink. You have cleaned it twice already, but you need something to do with your hands.

Hobie sighs at your question, making you deflate even further. “Yeah, I’m not an idiot,” he snaps. It takes him everything to keep his tone somewhat even and measured. There seems to be something in his words, some hint of frustration that you suspect has to do with you.

“But—look, I’m sorry, but I told you I wasn’t looking for…”

“It’s my birthday, Hobie,” you snap, “not some stupid fucking anniversary of us moving in together or something.” The anger comes out of you like a whip. You had to interrupt him, he knows that you would never bring that up, not again.

Your words cut through him like a red-hot knife. “I—“ he starts to say, his voice gentle once more. Hobie reaches out to you before catching himself. You can see the apology on his tongue and the regret in his eyes. It’s in there, barely peeking over the surface. There’s something he wants to tell you, you know there is, but he’s afraid he can’t make the choice.

“Yeah… figured you forgot,” you say, your voice small. “Well, my friends from school are throwing me a party tonight, at Club Wolf. You’re invited if you want to come, but I know it’s not your thing.”

“You know I’m not great with crowds,” Hobie says, his tone light and joking. You hear the desperation in it. He doesn’t want to go, but he doesn’t want to disappoint you. You bite your tongue, wanting to remind him that he is fine with crowds, just not nightclubs with dance music.

“But,” he says a second later, “I wouldn’t miss your birthday party for the world.” The lightness in his voice disappears as he offers a lopsided smile to you. Maybe a genuine smile. Maybe.

You glance at him over your shoulder, surprise coloring your face. You rinse the bowl you had made your own birthday cake in last night and set it on the rack to dry. “Well, just see how you’re feeling later. It starts at 9.” Hobie has made promises to show up before, you’re not going to hold your breath this time.

You turn to pull the cake out of the fridge and find the tubs of frosting you bought in the pantry. You set the cake on the kitchen table, pausing to wonder if baking and decorating your own birthday cake is sad. What does it matter anyways?

“I mean it,” he whispers softly. “I’ll be there, I promise.” He sounds sincere—or maybe that’s just what you want to hear. You feel yourself wanting to believe him. You know you shouldn’t, but deep down you hope you can.

His head dips to the side, his eyes scanning you warmly up and down in a familiar way. His gravity defying wicks move with him as he tilts. You always forget how beautiful Hobie is when he looks at you like that. You can’t blame him for anything right now.

“Okay.” You look at him briefly before turning back to the cake. Hobie is too beautiful to look at directly in the morning light, it felt almost like staring into the sun.

You dump globs of white frosting onto the cold sponge, spreading it smooth with a spatula. Hobie’s eyes study your measured movements. It takes you ten minutes to lopsidedly frost the cake, but you manage.

You move to the cabinet to search for the sprinkles you’d bought ages ago. Hobie moves behind you and watches your search, his gaze taking in both your back and profile in the reflection of the glass cabinet door. His focus remains on you for a moment before he breathes softly.

“I don’t want to go,” he mumbles, just barely loud enough for you to hear. He’s nervous. He’d be lying if he says he isn’t. The party means a lot to you and he doesn’t want to have to mess up the evening; or worse, ruin it completely,

“You don’t have to,” you say, your heart twisting in its disappointment. “I wasn’t expecting you to.”

“But… I want to for you,” Hobie says even quieter, you almost don’t understand him. He presses up against you again, arms wrapping around your middle. His body is warm and his breath is hot against your skin, making you shiver for a moment.

You feel a hesitation from him, like Hobie wants you to turn and face him and ask him for more. It’s like he’s waiting for you to say it, to validate and confirm things that he knows in his heart —and you do too.

But you can’t do it, you have put yourself out on that ledge before only to get struck down. It took you a long time to get back to this level of comfort with Hobie, dancing between friendship and something more. Unfortunately, you prefer being stuck in limbo than not having Hobie in your life at all.

You have to stretch on your tiptoes to reach the sprinkles on the top shelf. Hobie must have moved them while hunting for the stale candy bars that lived in the back of the cabinet.

Hobie chuckles and puts his hands on your waist, pushing gently until you put your heels back on the floor. You look back at him, seeing him smile the kind of smile that is sweet and soft and more genuine than anything you have seen in a long time.

“Here.” He hands the sprinkles to you. You have to stop yourself from melting into his arms.

You look away from his smile, your heart aching at the sight of it. “Thank you,” you murmur, clutching the plastic container tightly in your fist. The sprinkles are shiny spheres in your favorite colors: purple and pink. You have always been a sharp contrast to Hobie’s riot of blues and reds paired always with black.

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, his voice sweet and gentle. You can feel his gaze lingering on the sprinkles in your hand for a moment longer before he looks up at you again.

“I’ll see you tonight?” he asks, not bothering to hide his trepidation anymore. You can see his worry, the way his eyes keep straying to your neck, your hands, your face. Hobie seems afraid he’ll scare you away. You know he means more than just the party.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.” You offer him a half smile as you turn away from the press of his hand on your hip and to the frosted cake, perfectly white and crisp. You dump the sprinkles unceremoniously on top, tarnishing the pristine finish as you press them in to stick on the sides and top. The sprinkles spill over the edges of the plate, getting stuck in the nooks of the table settings.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he whispers, his eyes soft and searching when he approaches your side. That look is always enough to send your heart racing. You’re afraid you’ll do something wrong, something stupid that will push him away.

He places a hand on the table and leans in close, careful not to disturb the cake. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Hobie’s small, gentle smile breaks through again and, for a moment, the world stands still.

You’re scared to move, to send this house of cards crashing to the ground. That’s how Hobie and you always feel—like a balancing act. At times he is cloyingly sweet and stuck deep between your molars, but he can turn in a flash to something bitter and sour.

“I can’t eat this whole cake by myself,” you finally say after a moment’s hesitation. Hopefully it is a wise choice.

Hobie smiles even wider at your response. “No,” he says, “no you can’t.” He reaches out for the sprinkles, his hand almost touching yours before stopping. The electricity that builds between the two of you feels tangible for a split second. The touches that Hobie finds intimate are so minor compared to those that he doesn’t. Holding hands and kissing on the mouth are too much, but almost everything else is casual.

His eyes search you again, and you remember all the times you have had this exact moment with Hobie before. You wonder if you’ll get used to it and lose the feeling of intimacy altogether, or if it will always be this way.

“I’ll help you eat it,” he says, finally.

“Perfect, cake for breakfast is a birthday requirement, after all,” you say, turning your gaze away from the intensity. You place the mostly empty container of sprinkles on the table, letting out the breath that has been stuck in your chest.

You look on the counter for the Polaroid camera you like to keep around. You had won it in a raffle in college and used it ever since. “I need to grab my camera, I promised my mom I’d take a picture of it before I cut it,” you say as you pad out of the kitchen with your bare feet. It’s in your room on your desk, you grab it by the strap and return just as quietly as you left. You stand over the cake, careful to get only it in the shot, the cracked porcelain plate and sprinkles strewn across the table completing the imperfect memory.

“You still have that silly camera?” Hobie asks from behind you. His voice is light and his tone is teasing, but you can hear a hint of genuine interest lurking in there as well. You can feel his eyes scanning your body—just for a moment, but you can. That slight shift in his gaze and the way he lingers on your legs almost makes the camera shake in your hands.

“Yeah,” you say, waving the photo a bit so the ink sets. You quietly contemplate how you can take a picture of yourself with the cake without asking Hobie to do it, for some reason that feels too silly. Last year Hobie didn’t even wake up until 4pm, so you had all the time in the world to take self-timer photos over and over again without embarrassment.

“I like the way the pictures turn out,” you explain, flipping the photo on the table over to see the image of the pink and purple cake developing. “They feel like memories from when you were a kid or something.”

“You’re right,” Hobie whispers. You can sense the sincerity in his tone and even see it in his expression. It’s one of those rare moments where all of his walls drop and his emotions break through just beyond that rough exterior he hides himself in.

You look at the photo again, the sprinkles are haphazard and the plate is cracked but it looks cozy rather than imperfect. You can see Hobie’s shadow in it, streaking across the table and intersecting with yours. You pick up the pen that you had left on the table earlier and scribble the date on it along with the number ‘21!’ and a big smiley face.

Hobie’s shadow looms over you as you write. He’s closer than you expected him to be, and there’s something different about him. His warmth has been replaced by something deeper, more vulnerable. There’s a softness in his dark eyes—and a look of almost longing.

You cross your small, cluttered kitchen to set the Polaroid on the countertop. “You don’t need to be in this, but my mom likes to have pictures of me with the cake. She has a whole box of photos of me on my birthday morning.” You peek through the viewfinder to see that the cake is centered, a chair on either side.

You readjust the shirt you are wearing to cover a little bit more of your bare thighs as you set the timer, walking to the nearest chair with sure steps. Your kitchen table is a little crooked and small, the chairs mismatched. “You’ve got ten seconds to figure out what you want to do,” you murmur to Hobie as you try to fix your somewhat tangled hair and plaster a bright smile on your face.

He watches you on the other side of the table, drinking in your form as you prep for the photo. What he wants to do is easy: hold you. Hold you close and make sure you never leave him again. He’d be a fool not to try—and maybe that’s enough to shake him out of the looming fear that holds him back.

But what if you rejected him? His heart sinks just thinking about it. He’s not sure he could handle it, not in a moment like this.

He watches as the counter hits five seconds, not sure what to do.

“You don’t have to linger in the corner like a ghost you know,” you say through your teeth, still holding your smile as you stare into the lens of the camera. Your fingers twist in the soft fabric of the t-shirt in anticipation. You can’t help but wonder what he’s going to do.

Hobie’s eyes scan you again, taking in every detail. The way your hair falls against your collarbone, the way the shirt that belongs to him has started to slip from your shoulder. He leans against the table, resting one hand against the back of your chair.

You can feel his gaze on your neck, on your chin. His presence is warm against your skin as you hear him inhale and exhale. You want him to do something. You need him to.

One second left.

“Hobie?” You ask, your voice pinched as the one second warning beep goes off. He still rests half in and half out of the frame.

That soft word is enough. You feel the electricity between the two of you, that strange and beautiful tension that builds between two people when they are on the verge of something. Hobie’s fingers curl over the back of your chair, bringing himself closer. His eyes never leave your form—just the thought of you is enough to make him tremble.

He leans into you as he sits in the other chair, his breath hot on your cheek. Hobie places his hand on the opposite side of the cake, his shoulder close to yours. “Smile for me,” he mumbles, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear.

Your heart thumps and you can feel your false picture smile twist into something… different. The flash is blinding, the sound of the shutter solidifying the moment in your memories as the camera prints the photo. The apartment is quiet except for your breathing and the sound of the Polaroid printing the photo.

“Thank you, my mom loves getting pictures of me,” you say, your voice a little higher pitched than usual.

Hobie doesn’t say anything as he gets up to pull the photo free from the camera. His gaze scans you again, taking in everything in a moment. His eyes linger on the neckline of your shirt that’s slipped. He returns to where you sit at the table, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. His fingers brush against the top of your arm lightly as he smiles down at the photo. You look beautiful even with your tangled hair and the sprinkle-covered table settings.

“Did it turn out alright?” you ask him, not able to look at it yourself. You can’t acknowledge the permanent memento of whatever malformed relationship you have with Hobie. You stand, slipping out from under his hand as you grab two plates, forks, and a knife.

“Yeah,” Hobie says wistfully, and you can tell that he means it. It’s not the best photograph, but who cares—it’s a memory that he’ll hold onto and cherish for the rest of his life. He’d be a fool not to.

He can’t help himself and he wraps you in a hug, one arm around your waist and the other planted on the counter next to you. He places the photo down in front of you as he pulls you into his embrace.You fit together perfectly. He presses his cheek against your hair and inhales deeply, loving the way you smell.

You inspect the photo, leaning down slightly to see it better. You had worn his only colorful shirts to bed last night, the mustard yellow shape taking up half of the picture, the pink and purple cake between you, and Hobie swathed in dark blue and black. He was looking at you instead of the camera, and even in the photograph you could see the tenderness in his gaze. You were looking straight at the camera, what had originally been your photographic smile twisting into something genuine.

“Can I keep this?” he asks softly, his voice still raspy from sleep and his emotions. He still has a firm grip on you, his arm wrapped around you securely. He wants this moment to last and he’s not quite sure how to make it happen.

He looks down at you, his umber eyes studying every inch of your face. You can feel warmth radiating from him, and the way his body tenses—almost like he’s too nervous to breathe fully.

“Sure,” you say breathily, a little caught off guard. “I just need to grab a picture of it to send to my mom first.” Your heart is thundering in your chest, you’re trying not to think of a million scenarios about the deeper meaning behind him wanting to keep the photograph. You grab for your phone on the edge of the counter, taking a quick photo of the Polaroid before handing it to Hobie.

You can’t help but lean into him as he leans in close to you. He’s so gentle when he holds you, your head fits perfectly against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat is loud in your ears, steady and calming as he rocks you slightly back and forth in a hug. He smiles down at you, his eyes warm but his expression cautious. He’s not sure what to do next and it shows. He looks at the photo in his hands and back at you again.

“You hungry?” you ask, pushing the moment forward. You see his gaze drift down to the picture in his hand. “I can cut you a slice.” You look at him over your shoulder.

Hobie smiles again, but it’s a bit brighter this time. “I’m starving,” he says, his tone light and borderline teasing. He reaches around you, pressing his arms close to your body. You can feel his fingers against the shirt that you still wear, pressing up against your skin. It’s almost too much.

“Well you’ll have to free me if you want me to cut the cake,” you say with a soft laugh. You feel almost lightheaded from the attention. His hands are large, his fingers splayed against the yellow t-shirt and bunching it up slightly.

He laughs before pulling you closer, burying his face in your hair and breathing you in deeply. His fingers slip under the shirt and he presses himself against you again. You’ve never felt so close to someone—and you’ve never felt this vulnerable.

He’d be a fool to ruin the moment, and you’ve never seen a moment more perfect than this. No one ever told you love might feel like this: warm and dizzying, exciting and scary, and almost too good to be true, but here you are.

It still feels too good to be true, there is still the underlying anxiety that Hobie will change his mind and remember his no consistency no labels mentality.

Still, you giggle when you feel his large, calloused hands palm your bare waist and pull you impossibly closer. These are streets you’ve walked before, when Hobie lets himself into your bedroom on nights he comes home alone. You realize that Hobie is the sun, and you think you’ll forever be stuck in his gravitational pull.

That’s what scares you about Hobie. He’s always one breath away from running. He’s made you comfortable and close but not permanent. At the same time, he’s the most welcoming and kind person you’ve ever known and when he touches you—when he holds you close—you feel like you might just be home.

That’s what makes you keep coming back, too. You’ve never felt this comfortable or welcomed before and you’d kill for it to not be a dream.

“Are you just going to hold me against the kitchen counter all day?” you ask, your tone light. You manage to keep your secret inside, the fear that once this moment ends you won’t get another one looming in the back of your mind. You think back to the birthday picture, the messy cake on the table. The impending party your friends were throwing on the horizon.

Your mom told you the first time she met Hobie after you decided to be roommates that you would fall in love with this boy, and she was right.

Hobie’s smile falters slightly at your words. He’s not sure he’ll ever want this moment to end. Holding you and seeing your face—even if you’re not looking at him—is all he really wants to do.

“Maybe,” he says, his tone light as he pulls you closer and pushes your hips against the counter. His hands are still under my shirt, warm against your soft stomach. Maybe this moment is all he wants too.

But then, he takes a deep breath and smiles and the tension eases out of him a tiny bit.

“C’mon, you won’t deny sharing cake with the birthday girl, will you?” you say softly, leaning back into him to feel his strength.

“I wouldn’t deny you anything if I could help it,” he murmurs, almost under his breath. His fingers dig into you, holding you close in case he loses you forever. He presses his lips against your hair again and inhales deeply.

The world around you fades, every worry erased, replaced by the sensation of Hobie’s breath against your skin. Even if the moment ends, you’ll hold it close like the Polaroid he’ll soon keep in his wallet.

He moves first, releasing your waist slowly, letting the stolen shirt fall back down over your hips. You bracelet his wrist with your fingers, pulling him to the small kitchen table. You stand to cut the cake, plating you both thick slices. Your fingers are sticky with the excess frosting and sprinkles and crumbs. You take a measured risk and lick the knife clean.

“Do you want tea or coffee?” you ask, it wouldn’t be hard to put the kettle on.

“I’d love some tea,” Hobie says as he takes a seat at the table. He watches you with a soft smile as you cut the cake, your fingers sticky with frosting. The icing streaks your face from nose to cheek and he can’t help but smile. This is one of the many reasons he believes he’s falling in love with you.

“You’re so messy,” he chuckles. “Let me get a napkin.” His eyes scan over your form before he averts his gaze. You have no idea just how much your messiness makes him swoon.

“Did I get something on my face?” you ask, trying to brush it away and only succeeding on getting more frosting smeared onto your cheek. You watch Hobie’s lanky form retreat, smiling and shaking your head as you lick your fingers clean.

“Oh yeah,” he says, his tone amused and loving, “you’re just covered is all.”

“Here,” he says, a napkin in-hand, “let me get that.” He dabs the frosting gently away with the napkin, his fingers brushing against your skin. He catches your eyes for just a moment when he does, but he quickly averts his gaze.

“You must think I’m ridiculous,” you say with a giggle when you see just how much frosting he wipes off your face. There is a soft blush on your cheeks as you put the kettle on before pouring yourself a cup of coffee. The mug you use is lumpy, one of the only things that survived the kiln from the pottery class you took last summer.

You pour him a cup of tea, adding the right amounts of milk and sugar before handing it to him. “You’re not ridiculous at all,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He smiles again, reaching for his tea and gulping it down. You can tell you’re making him shy.

“You haven’t tried the cake yet,” you murmur as you sit down, a full slice sitting in front of Hobie still.

“Oh, you’re right,” he says, setting down his tea. “I actually forgot to try it.” He reaches for his fork and cuts himself a piece, taking a bite. You can tell he likes it by just how big his smile is.

“Oh my God,” he says, “why didn’t I try this earlier? It’s amazing.”

You smile, your turn to feel bashful as you sit across from him. You’d celebrated 21 birthdays with cake for breakfast, but this one is your favorite by far. “I’ll make you one when your birthday comes around. I can get black sprinkles or something,” you say, your voice holding a hint of vulnerability in it. Of the two of you, you were always doing things to make Hobie’s life easier, be it collecting his laundry or leaving him leftovers for lunch. You’re willing to add baking a birthday cake to the list.

“I hope you do,” he says, his voice soft and sweet. There’s a small light in his eyes, but he averts his gaze quickly. He’s clearly trying to play it cool, and he’s doing a piss poor job of it.

“I can’t wait for mine,” he says, taking another bite of cake. “If this is what your baking is like, I think I’m going to insist we have an early birthday for me.” He grins when he says it, even though you know he’s not joking.

You smile, taking a bite. The pink and purple sprinkles crunch as you chew. “Well, your half birthday is coming up,” you say, a little sheepish that you remember the information so readily. “Maybe I’ll make you one.”

Hobie’s expression softens, his free hand fidgeting with a cloth that is on the table. He takes another bite of his cake to hide how flustered he is.

“That would be lovely,” he says after a moment. You can see him trying to play it cool, but he can’t stop his eyes from following you. He wants to watch you as you move. He wants to study you. He wants you. He can feel it in his gut.

You take a drink of your bitter coffee to offset the sweetness of the cake. His gaze is almost overwhelming. Even when his eyes trail away, you can feel his presence like a weight on your shoulders that you can never ignore. A blush crawls up over your face and you find yourself looking away, hoping the heat in your face will die down a little bit.

Then you decide against that, your gaze returning directly to meet his and you never want to look away again. His eyes almost melt you. He makes you forget to breathe, but you can deal with breathlessness for a little while.

You’re forced into shyness by the memory of the last time you felt this way, Hobie’s soft, even voice rejecting you filling your ears. You close your parted lips, redirecting your focus to the photo of just the cake with your loopy, girly handwriting beneath it that still sat on the table.

His eyes follow your gaze as you focus on something else and he can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He doesn’t like losing your attention. He leans back in his seat, propping his feet up on the other chair and taking a slow sip of his tea.

You catch his gaze again, and again he averts it. He knows that if he looks at you, it’ll be all over. He’d be pulling you around and pressing his lips down hard as he shows you just how true his feelings are.

You finish your breakfast, and you find the cake cover after digging in one of the cabinets under the counter. You cover it and place it in the fridge, having to squeeze some of Hobie’s beer out of the way to make space. Hobie remains seated, watching you move around the kitchen with his measured gaze.

Your phone ringtone blasts through the silence of the morning, which now was drifting into the afternoon. You jump, rushing for your phone. Your mother’s contact flashes on the screen.

“It’s my mom, she probably just wants to wish me a happy birthday,” you say, looking at Hobie as though you’re asking permission to take the call. You don’t want to ruin the intimacy you had been sharing, fearful you’ll never get it back.

“Yeah,” Hobie says, his voice soft and gentle. “You can take the call.” He knows how important family is to you and he’d hate to keep you from a call with your mother.

He leans back in the chair and takes a final sip of his tea before he sets the mug down. You see his eyes linger on yours for a beat or two before he looks away. He wants you to be happy—he always does. Even if it means he might have to sit in the background.

“Thank you, for the lovely morning,” you murmur, giving him one last look before you hit the ‘answer’ button and go to your room. Your mom is already screaming about the picture Hobie and you had taken. Her shrieks of glee make you giggle as you shut the bedroom door behind you, not without sparing one last look at Hobie as he sat at the kitchen table.

Hobie watches you leave and he fights against everything his body is telling him to do. He’s dying to follow you, to wrap his arms around you and kiss you like he wants to. He’s dying for you to look at him one more time. But he doesn’t.

He fights against his demons instead. He’s always had trouble with commitment and giving himself to someone makes him nervous. It scares him. It worries him.

He doesn’t want to lose you. But he’s terrified of loving you.

The rest of the day progresses without event. You only run into Hobie once in the short trek from the kitchen to his room, mumbling something about how his friend Miles needed his advice. You were watching Twilight to kill the time, something Hobie would have never agreed to do even on your birthday.

The production of getting ready feels monotonous as you shower, do your hair, and apply your makeup. It feels like a fugue state as your favorite playlist fills the silence, you can’t help but wonder if Hobie will bother to show up or not.

By the time your friends come to retrieve you in the Uber, Hobie still hasn’t emerged from his room since your brief run in. You are wearing a dress that glitters when you move, paired with black platform heels and a small black handbag. You let your hair loose down your shoulders in meticulously done beach curls. No matter how much effort you’d put in, it felt like a waste of time when you looked at his closed bedroom door.

“I’m leaving for the club!” you call out to Hobie, waiting momentarily for a response you don’t receive before you shut the front door and rush to the Uber.

Hobie’s on his bed when he hears your voice, his expression darkening. The room’s curtains are shut and all he can hear is the sound of his own breathing. It’s hot in his room and he wishes for a fan. It’s quiet—too quiet.

He wants to follow you, but he can’t. The thought of another step towards commitment makes his head spin. He wants you but he can’t do this, not without being sure. That’s the problem though. He’s never sure of anything aside from the dizzying panic you make him feel.

The club is busy when you arrive, your friends from college having congregated for the event amongst other miscellaneous club goers. You are plied with congratulations and shots upon arrival, along with a silver sash that says ‘Birthday Girl’ in looping script. You nearly cry, the effort and love you feel overwhelming you a bit as your friends place the sash over your head and adjust it perfectly in place. It’s such a stark contrast from the morning, but still feels less satisfying.

The alcohol lowers your inhibitions and ignites your blood, you feel like you can dance for hours. The club is sweltering and the music is loud. You finally manage to find a lull to escape to the bathroom for a moment, promising your friends that you will make it okay on your own. You hide in a stall, taking a moment to catch your breath. You pull your phone out of your bag hopefully only for it to deflate when you see there’s still nothing from Hobie.

The alcohol lubricates your jumbled thoughts about Hobie as you look at your text thread. The last thing he’d sent you was a photo of the small bar crowd his band had played in front of a few days ago. You bite your glossed lip, teetering on the edge of a decision.

You open your camera app, angling your phone so you can see just enough cleavage down the front of your dress and the toilet is out of the frame. You take a selfie, suddenly realizing you look drunk but you don’t care. You are drunk and it’s your birthday. You consider that to be permission granted as you send it to Hobie, typing ‘miss u’ in all lowercase letters after it.

A notification pops up on Hobie’s phone as he’s lounging in bed, his headphones plugged into his cellphone while he listens to music. He’s not doing anything productive when the notification comes up, his finger tapping along to the rhythm of the song before he unlocks his phone.

A jolt of shock courses through his body, his breath catching in his throat as he sees your photo on his screen. His eyes go wide and he quickly replies, “I miss you too.” His breath catches in his throat and he bites his lower lip.

You squeal audibly when he texts back, thankfully the music and the other women in the bathroom cover the sound. “U do?” you reply, leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall. You look at the photo you had sent him again. God, you look so drunk.

“Of course,” Hobie replies quickly, his pulse quickening at the thought of you being drunk. He loves when you’re a little tipsy—your words get sweeter and your harsh edges get a little smoother.

“How’s the party? Missing you right back.” He looks at your photo with a little jolt of lust. You might look drunk in the picture, but you look hot. Your hair is mussed and your eyes are glassy and unfocused as you pout softly at the camera.

“Club’s not the same wirhout u.” You type, not even noticing the misspelling. You hit send, knowing you really only have a few more minutes before your friends come to find you. A birthday girl can’t leave her party for long.

He’s not expecting you to text back so quickly and as the notification chimes in his phone, he sits up in bed to look at it. He has to resist the urge to text you again in fear of being too clingy. In his eyes, he’s already a little too clingy.

He decides to wait for another notification. You might have just said the club is boring without him, but you at least sent this message. Your words and that picture of you will have to be enough for him tonight.

He stares at his phone for the next few minutes.

Your friends come to collect you, making you forget about the moment for a little. They call your name as they enter the bathroom, yelling something about how your song is being played and you are desperately needed on the dance floor.

Twenty minutes pass before you think about Hobie again. You were handed a shot of Jäegermeister—your favorite and Hobie’s worst nightmare. You decide to take a video as you take it. Normally, you would rather die than record yourself in public but liquid courage courses through your veins. The lights are pulsing around you, the sequins on your dress lighting up as you raise the shot glass to the selfie camera and knock the shot back.

You watch the video loop as you contemplate it. Your cheeks are flushed, makeup is a bit messy, and you shine with sweat. But, fuck it. You send it to Hobie anyways, typing a quick ‘cheers 💕’ to accompany it.

You can tell that Hobie’s not doing much of anything because he responds within half a minute of you sending your text, his fingers typing up quite a long message for Hobie.

“God, you’re so cute.” He stares at it for a bit, watching the video on loop before he texts back again. “Also, that dress is gorgeous on you. Can I see it up close?” It feels scandalous the way he texts so forwardly to you, you rarely communicated your desires to one another.

You blush when you read the text, the alcohol and Hobie’s implication making your head spin. “Tried to catch u before I left the apartmenr :('' you send back, again littered with errors. You think about how you called out to him as you left, not getting a response or a goodbye.

“Wish you did,” he replies. Hobie smiles and he takes another look at your photo. Your dress clings to you in just the right places and your makeup is smudged in the perfect way.

“I love your hair like that,” he texts before he takes a breath and adds, “and the way you look at me makes my breath stop. I want to kiss you so bad, but I can’t.”

You can’t hold your excitement at his text, getting the attention of those with you. Your friends notice, the girls looking over your shoulder at the thread. One confiscates your phone, typing before hitting send without showing you the message.

You look at your phone when she gives it back. “Club Wolf, come get her. We want to make sure she gets home safe,” your friend had sent. You roll your eyes, knowing that you were nowhere close to being wasted enough for Hobie to have to come save you.

Hobie doesn’t hesitate to respond to your friend’s text. “I’ll be right there.”

“Oh my god!” you screech when you get the text back, grabbing your friend’s shoulder with excitement. She takes your phone for the rest of the night, putting it in her bra. After a few moments you let it go, getting convinced to dance with them more as one of your favorite songs starts to blare through the speakers.

Once he’s up and dressed, he downs a few shots for courage before he takes off towards the club. When he gets there, he takes a moment to stand outside the building as he takes a deep breath; his heart’s in his throat, his palms are sweaty. He’s here for you. He knows that. But he’s also going to have to face the fact that he dropped everything to run to your aid.

“Let me buy you a drink?” a random man that had come along to meet some of your friends asks you. In your state you eagerly agree, assuming he is being kind to the guest of honor. You follow him to the bar, scanning the room to see if Hobie had showed up yet. You order another of your favorite drinks and sip on it while chatting idly with the man. He’s decent, but you’re not paying much attention to the conversation as you sip your drink and look around the club.

Hobie walks through the club, his eyes darting around. When he sees you with the random guy, he frowns before he forces himself to push forward. He’s only slightly jealous. You don’t owe him anything. He just knows that he doesn’t want you with anyone else.

He pushes past a wall of people before finally reaching you. He taps the other guy on the shoulder before gently grabbing you by the elbow and pulling you away from him. He doesn’t say a word to the guy, only glaring at him before he leads you away.

“Hobie!” you exclaim as his hand closes around your elbow, already completely forgetting about the random man. The liquid swirls in your glass as you go up on your tiptoes to loop an arm around his neck and pull him into a hug. You have to do that even in heels.

“I didn’t think you were gonna come,” you say, your voice slightly slurring as you release him. You take another sip of the drink, wiping a bit of the alcohol off the corner of your lips with your thumb and licking it off.

“I couldn’t resist,” he replies, hugging you close and planting a kiss on your cheek. One hand finds its way onto your hip as the other reaches up towards your hair, fingers running through the ends of your hair—he just had to touch it. It seems like a crime to keep your hair so far away from him.

“I almost didn’t go in because I saw you here with this guy.” He gestures to the random man you were just talking with and his lips curl up in a scowl.

You frown for a moment. “Screw that guy,” you say loudly, the alcohol letting all your feelings simmer just under the surface. You can feel your friends watching like hawks. You look Hobie up and down, realizing that he was dressed in black on black on black. But he looked good, he’d put on chains and his chunky silver rings and smudged eyeliner around his eyes in the way you liked. His leather vest settled nicely on his shoulders, covered in studs and patches for bands and pins.

Not to mention that his hand on your waist made you feel grounded for the first time since you had shared breakfast together.

His other hand finds your waist, pulling you close to him and his lips fall to your ear. “You look beautiful,” he breathes before he whispers, “and you smell even better.”

His lips skim just above your neck, his mouth breathing warm breath on your skin. He can tell that you like it. The way your head tilts back, the way your eyes flutter closed. He knows you like this. A lot of time spent with one another gave him the upper hand in knowing all of your tells.

“Oh now you’re just being nice because it’s my birthday,” you murmur, blinking up at him sweetly. The light reflected off your dress in different colors, throwing patches of pinks and blues onto Hobie’s body.

He shakes his head, his lips still hovering just above your neck as he whispers, “no, this is just me being truthful.”

Even as he’s saying this, he’s not sure what he’s planning to do. He wants to kiss you, he wants to hold you tight and keep you close to him. But he’s never been so vulnerable. He can’t just take you from the club. He needs to know what you want.

“You smell of vanilla, and jasmine,” he adds, his lips finally finding your skin and kissing it. You shiver when he kisses your neck, the feeling of his lips igniting a fire on your skin. His lip ring is cold as it presses into the delicate skin, but you don’t care.

“I-I used that body wash you like,” you say like an idiot, your voice coming out before you even had the time to process what you were saying. Your free hand found the smooth plane of his shoulder as the other still held your drink. You took another gulp of it in an attempt to calm down.

His hand tightens around your waist, pulling you back into him. His tongue lightly brushes against your skin, exploring the lines of your neck as he kisses you again and again. You sigh into his touches, your hand curling around the back of his neck. Even drunk, you’re careful not to touch his hair.

“I didn’t get to give you a present,” he teases before whispering again, “and I know exactly what you want.” His hands move up from your waist and towards your hair, fingers wrapping around strands of it before he grips it tightly and plants his mouth on yours.

You gasp initially, melting into his arms. You nearly drop the glass you’re holding, but somehow Hobie has the good sense to pull it from your hand and place it on a table next to him; his lips never leaving yours. Your eyes slip closed as your fingers wrap around the collar of his vest and you pull him close to you. Hobie tastes like peppermint and a hint of rum, which makes you want him more.

You can feel his grip tighten, Hobie desperate for you; desperate to have your touch. His tongue dances as he kisses you with all the passion and love he’s thought about giving you. Your hands grip him and push him closer into you, your body pressed so tightly against his that you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.

His breath is warm on your lips as he continues, trying to kiss you harder as if he can transfer the feelings that are growing inside of him onto your body. He only wants you.

You can hear your friends cheering over the club music as you part, your lipgloss is smeared onto his lips. You laugh, wiping away the sticky substance with your thumb. “Can you take me home, Hobie?” you ask softly, still holding him close with your other hand.

Hobie’s breath catches in his throat as he hears your friends cheering you both on and he looks over his shoulder with a sheepish smile before he turns back to glance at you.

For as shy as he is with your friends, he’s not afraid to stare at you. Your eyes look like they’re almost glowing beneath the lights of the club as you ask him to take you home. He nods without hesitation. Nothing could stop him from spending time with you tonight. Nothing should.

Your friend hands you your phone back as you lace fingers with Hobie. So many firsts in one night, for all the times you’d slept together in the past you had never kissed or held hands. He tugs you gently out of the club as you pound the rest of my drink and leave it on the bar.

The night air is cool and brisk, but it still isn’t enough to sober you up completely. Thankfully it’s a short walk. You kick off your heels, your feet pressing against the dirty pavement. You had put on stockings under your dress to beat the cold, so they provide a thin barrier but nothing that actually will keep you clean. You are a bit of a messy person anyway, Hobie knew that.

Hobie’s mind is racing as he walks out of the club with you, your fingers looped with his own. He’s trying to decide what to say and do as he walks beside you. He can see you kicking off your heels and stepping on the cold pavement with your barely covered feet; a part of him wants to tell you to be careful, but he doesn’t, he can’t. He's too deep in his mind, he’s past the point of making rational decisions. He’s too far gone.

Hobie guides you back to the apartment, walking at a slower pace so you can keep up. “Wow, no telling me to be careful?” you tease softly as you walk, the breeze whipping your hair and dress around. You’re on cloud nine, the feeling of Hobie’s fingers laced with yours feeling like victory.

He bites his lip to stop himself from telling you to be careful; he wants, no, he desires to tell you how much he cares for you. He wants to say all the words that are dancing on his tongue. The words he’s been dying to say to you.

He wants this moment to never end. He just wants to stand right here, right beside you, with your fingers laced into his.

But he doesn’t do anything. He’s scared, scared he’ll mess something up. Scared that you don’t see him that way.

“Hobie,” you whine softly, recognizing that look on his face as he spirals into his thoughts. You stop walking, even when he softly tugs your hand. He turns to you, his brow furrowed in confusion.

You reach up, tapping your fingertips in the center of his forehead. “You’re stuck up here, come be with me,” you whisper, your words slurring a touch as you do.

His heart skips a beat when you tap your fingers to the center of his forehead. You might as well have just hit him with a defibrillator, Hobie’s entire body jolts with surprise.

He looks down at you with eyes wide. It takes him a moment to process what’s just happened. “Huh?” he asks, his voice barely more than a hushed whisper. He feels like he’s on a bad first date; he has no idea what the right move is and is almost afraid to make any move at all.

You smile at his confusion. “Good, you’re back.” You start walking again, this time you take the lead as you zigzag drunkenly to your apartment. Your black strappy heels dangle from the hand that isn’t holding Hobie’s. “You haven’t said a word since you whisked me away from the club,” you say, looking at him over your shoulder momentarily before continuing to walk. Your feet were starting to feel the cold.

“I… uh…” Hobie takes a long, deep breath before he continues, “I don’t know if I should say anything.”

He glances down at your bare feet and frowns. “Your feet are going to be cold,” he mumbles before he looks up at you again. “Should I say anything?” He asks again, “Or… should I keep my mouth shut?”

You have no idea how much he’s dying to say something to you. He’s so close, he’s practically begging you to give him the push.

“Hobie, I never want you to keep your mouth shut,” you say, stating it as if it’s an obvious fact. You can see your building approaching at the end of the block.

His angular features bloom with surprise at your answer and he can barely hold in the smile that’s trying to break out on his face. “Okay… okay good. Glad to hear it.” He swallows in lieu of saying anything else.

Your apartment is so close, he’s tempted to rush to get there. He’s trying to distract himself by finding something else to talk about. Anything else but his own feelings.

“Where’d you get that dress? It’s beautiful on you.”

You snort softly, “you don’t remember? We went shopping together. You bought your Dead Kennedys patch that day.” You look up at Hobie’s face, still walking a little ahead of him. You hope your eyes convey what you’re wanting them to, the alcohol still feels like it’s setting you on fire.

Hobie is about to say yes, he remembers without even recalling the memory before he remembers what happened that day a few weeks ago. It feels like something out of a dream, a distant fantasy. He remembers having you pressed into the corner of the dressing room with a hand over your mouth, but not the dress you bought.

His eyes dip to study the pavement, his voice slightly deeper than it usually is. “I remember.”

He can’t help it. The thoughts have been brewing in his gut, making his stomach ache like a sore tooth. He’s sick of waiting and wants to just get over it.

“I’m in love with you,” he tells you, his voice barely above a whisper.

His voice is almost quieter than the wind, but you hear it. You nearly stumble before turning to face Hobie. The excitement is there, your heart feels like it’s leaping out of your chest. Your brain short circuits as it processes what he said, not sure what to do with the information. You finally manage to spit out: “I’m in love with you, too.” Albeit you’re much louder than he is.

Hobie looks almost overwhelmed by your response and he opens his mouth to say something and closes it again. His heart skips a beat and the words that were about to cross his lips are long lost to the wind.

“You’re in love with me?” he asks, his voice still barely above a whisper, “like… in love with me?”

“Yeah, Hobie. Wasn’t it obvious?” you say, fidgeting with the heels you were still carrying.

He’s silent for a moment, trying to take in what you’re saying. “No,” he responds, “it- it wasn’t.”

“I just—“ he starts before he shakes his head. Words are failing him and it’s getting on his nerves. He doesn’t want to say anything stupid.

He clears his throat and tries again. “Look, this is going to sound dumb, and I’m only asking because I have to know…” he pauses and swallows, his eyes trained and focused on yours, “… can I kiss you?”

“Didn’t you kiss me already… at the club? As my birthday present?” you ask in a teasing tone, stepping closer to Hobie on the sidewalk. His sweet nature makes you smile widely. Your feet are borderline hypothermic but you don’t care, you won’t dare ruin this moment.

It takes all of his willpower to not lean forward and press his lips to yours. He can feel his heart thumping hard in his chest, like it’s fighting to tear itself out of his ribcage, desperate for freedom.

“I want to kiss you again. Just one more time. Just for me.” He looks at you with pleading eyes, trying to tell you with a look what he’s unable to in words.

“Well it better not be our last time kissing, Hobie Brown,” you say, reaching up and curling your hand around the collar of his shirt. Where he is shy, the alcohol in your system makes you bold. You yank him down, stretching on your frozen tiptoes to press your lips to his.

Hobie’s body jolts in surprise but it doesn’t stop him from leaning into the kiss. He wraps his arms around your back and presses closer to you, his body shivering in response.

Your lips are cold, but they send sparks through his entire body, causing his fingers to clench around you with a strength he didn’t know he had. His lips move against yours with passion, he’s unable to control himself. It’s you. It’s always been you for him.

You pull away after a few moments, grinning at him. “Now can we get back to the apartment before they have to amputate my feet due to hypothermia?” you ask, “I promise there’s more kisses for you there.” Your gaze flickers over his face. You feel electric, the song and dance you two have done for the past years settling into something new.

Hobie smiles back at you before he glances down at your feet. The skin looks like it could be frost bitten and numb already.

“We really should get you inside,” he says, “you can warm up your cheeks and feet.”

He turns and starts walking forward, but then he pauses again and turns to face you. His eyes drift down to your lips before he leans toward you once again, but this time it’s not a slow, romantic kiss—it’s a desperate one. And he’s not stopping at your lips.

“Hobie!” you exclaim as he kisses from your lips down your neck all the way to your collarbone. “Now if I freeze out here on my birthday I’m blaming you!”

"I take responsibility," he breathes against your neck before he plants kisses along your shoulder, "because this will be the best birthday you've ever had." His hands travel along your hips before he gently pulls you into him.

Your body is finally warmed by the heat of his lips and he holds you, his fingertips tracing the curve of your hip and lower back. He's so lost in the moment he nearly forgets to breathe.

"It's all I want for you," he tells you again and again, his lips moving to your collar bone and throat.

Someone in a car driving by wolf whistles, making you part. You’re shivering as you look at each other as though you were seeing each other for the first time. Your teeth chatter in the wind. When you put on this outfit you had imagined taking a cab home after the party.

Hobie glances over his shoulder at the driver who catcalls you and he rolls his eyes. "Come on," he urges, "your feet can still freeze, let's get you in."

He wraps his arm around you as he walks, his fingertips pressing gently against your skin and trying to warm you up. Your hair whips against you and you can still feel the warmth of his lips on your skin. His other hand rests at your side, close enough for you to take if you wanted.

You do, your other hand holding your shoes as you finally climb the steps to the apartment. Hobie pulls out his keys swiftly and unlocks the door in a fluid motion. The heat from inside makes you sigh contentedly.

He leads you inside, and as soon as the door closes behind you, the cold is gone. A rush of warm air hits you, almost like stepping outside after being on a plane.

He closes the door and locks it behind you. “Thank God,” he mutters, “I was afraid you’d freeze your feet to the sidewalk.” His eyes drift down to your shoes and he sighs. “Go put them in your room.”

He gestures toward the door but doesn’t say another word. Instead, he watches you, his eyes glued to your movements.

Usually, you’re combative when drunk, but something about the affection in his voice makes you listen. You briefly look at yourself in the mirror. You look a little worse for wear, your hair is a little tangled and your makeup is smudged. You wipe some from under your eyes and try to untangle the bigger knots before going back into the living room.

Hobie waits for you in the living room, glancing at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly 2 a.m. and he’s exhausted, but his heart is too full for him to sleep. You come back looking like a drunk mess which would usually make him laugh, but he’s too lost in you.

He’s still staring at you, his dark eyes studying you and finding everything about you that he thinks is beautiful.

“Help me unzip my dress,” you say to him quietly, turning and pulling your hair over your shoulders. You have the soft, stolen t-shirt of his in your hand. You’re aching to put it on.

Hobie doesn’t say a word, he just takes himself over to you, stands behind you, and starts unzipping your dress. The fabric slips down your back, exposing the skin of your shoulders. Your hair drapes over your back, still damp with sweat and alcohol. He takes in your beauty.

He smiles at you again as he pulls the dress down your arms. When he finishes, you stand in nothing but your bra and underwear and he looks a little flushed. “I think you might want something a little warmer,” he says, his tone light and teasing.

You roll your eyes, pulling Hobie’s large t-shirt over your head. Plus it wasn’t like anything under your dress was new to Hobie. “You are such a momma hen,” you say to him, turning around with a smile. The contrast is interesting. There is still glitter all over your body and your hair is still curled as you wore his faded, ratty t-shirt that really should have been tossed.

You’re an absolute mess and he can’t help but stare at you. In that moment he realizes just how hard he falls for you, and for the first time in his life, he’s not afraid to fall.

“You’re drunk,” he says with a chuckle.

“I know,” you say, laughing back. “I probably look like a crazy person.” You run a hand through your hair, getting stuck at a knot, “hopefully you’re still attracted to me.”

His eyes light up when you say that and he shakes his head. “I’m very attracted to you,” he replies, his tone flirtatious and playful.

He reaches out and pulls you into him, embracing you tightly. You feel his warmth through his T-shirt. “I’m more than attracted to you. You’ve taken up residence in my head.” He kisses your cheek before he pulls away, smiling again.

The alcohol is starting to wear off and he’s starting to notice you shiver again. “Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

You nod complacently, surprised when he starts pulling you to his room. All the times you’d slept together in the last had been in your bed. You can’t even remember a time you had been inside his room.

He pauses outside the door and turns to you, his voice quieter than before.

“I need you to know something, and I don’t want you leaving this room until you do.”

He takes a deep breath and steadies himself, you can see how much this moment means to him.

“You’re more than just my roommate.” Your name falls softly from his lips, his accent curling around it like a blanket. His eyes hold yours, almost like he can see your soul. “You’re everything that’s worth fighting for, every day that makes the world better, every beautiful moment, every laugh. You… you are my home.”

You feel too many emotions flood your mind as you look up at him. “God, I wish I wasn’t drunk right now so I could think of something beautiful to say to you,” you say, laughing softly.

“I do love you Hobes, I have for years.”

He smiles at you as you laugh. You look so beautiful, so amazing to him. And you don’t even need to say anything for him to know what you feel.

He pulls you inside his room, closes the door, and sits down on his bed. His hands are on your chin, his fingers tracing the contours of your mouth. Your eyes, your cheeks. He releases you to stand in the center of his bedroom. You are looking around his room, taking in all of the things that make Hobie Hobie. He has two guitars mounted on the wall, there’s some laundry on the floor. His walls are littered with posters and paint and memorabilia, and he has two large bookshelves on the side of this room that are nearly full.

“Come here,” he rasps. “I want to kiss you.” His voice brings you back to the present as you make your way toward him, standing between his legs as he sits on his unmade bed.

He can see the spark of excitement in your eyes as he guides you to stand between his legs. Your face is at the perfect height for him to kiss you again. He lifts your chin and pulls you close. Hobie’s hands travel over your back and shoulders, the backs of his fingers trailing along your skin.

“Close your eyes,” he sighs, his voice hoarse, and his mouth collides with yours, soft, gentle, and eager. He holds you close, embracing you like his life depends on it. You interlock your fingers behind the nape of his neck to ground yourself with touch. The kiss is needier, your teeth knocking with his on occasion as his nose presses along yours. The ring through his nostril is cold, tickling you occasionally.

“God, I love you so much,” he says into you. The few shots of alcohol have worn off and the words spill out of him so quickly.

The glitter shimmers on your skin and the light from his lamp caresses your body. Hobie breaks the kiss and gazes at you, his lips still tasting like yours.

You open your eyes as he pulls away, a smile blooming on your face. The alcohol is still strong in you; if anything, its warmth has worn off but the buzzing in your head still continues. You nuzzle into his neck, pressing your cold nose to his skin. “I love you, Hobie.”

He runs his fingers along your arm, his touch gentle and loving. He leans back and looks at you as he rests his weight on his hands.

“Can I ask you something?” He raises a brow, “and I mean really ask you something?” He sounds nervous, anxious.

“Yeah,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek at the tone of his voice. You feel your brows knit together in concern as you look up at him, my ears still ringing from the nightclub.

“What are we?” He looks at you, still nervous but determined. You may have had some drinks but your eyes are bright and focused on him.

“Like—“ he swallows back the lump in his throat before he speaks again. “What are we doing? Are we friends? Are we something more? Are we even in this at all?” He laughs nervously, looking away.

“You’ve gotta be the one to make that choice, Hobie,” you say softly, your brows still pinched together as you look at him. “The last time this happened…” tears well in your eyes as you think about it, the alcohol bringing the emotions to the surface. “You shut me down. Said you didn’t like labels or consistency. So now you have to choose.”

Hobie swallows hard as your eyes well up with tears. You look so beautiful in that moment, the alcohol on your skin sparkling in the light from the bedside lamp.

Hobie hooks his hands under the backs of your knees and pulls you to his lap in a surprising show of strength. His calloused fingers wipe your tears away, and part of you knows if your makeup wasn’t ruined before it definitely is now. “If you’re gonna break my heart, you may as well do it now,” you whisper, laughing softly through the tears. The ridiculousness of the situation gets to you.

Hobie laughs aloud, relieved to see you laugh. “Darling, there’s no way in hell I could ever break your heart.”

He looks at you, his eyes holding yours, his fingertips caressing your skin. “I’m in love with you.” His eyes dance with moonlight slotting through his window. “I can’t promise you the world. What I can promise you is that when I walk out the door, I’ll come back to you, because you’re home to me.”

“Promise?” you whisper, holding up your pinky for him to take. Pinky promises are stupid, but you are a strong believer in them. Hobie knows that.

Hobie chuckles and he holds up his pinky, intertwining his finger with yours. His hands are rough from playing the guitar, but his touch is soft and gentle right now.

"I promise."

He pulls you into him, his arms wrapped around your body. "No matter what, I’ll find my way back to you. You’re everything that I’ve ever wanted and... you make me happy."

You bury your face in his chest, nodding as my fingers tangle in the ripped shirt Hobie wore. He smells so comforting, like sandalwood and cinnamon. You fit together perfectly, your bodies curved together and your cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

He rests his head atop yours, his arms still curled around you. The two of you sit on the bed, and he can feel the warmth of your body spread through his fingers.

You try to stifle a small yawn, hoping Hobie didn’t hear it. You just wanted to keep talking with him. This all felt like a dream, you being in his room, in his bed. You worry that tomorrow you’ll wake up and you will go back to being roommates like none of this ever happened.

“Oh, I felt that yawn,” he murmurs, his voice sleepy. “C’mon, you can tell me everything tomorrow.”

He tucks his arms around you again and shifts his weight, rolling you to him so he’s now in the big spoon position.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Goodnight,” you hear him whisper your name softly as you drift off.

He’s content to just hold you in his bed all night. As you sleep, his breathing softens and his hand rests on your hip.

#hobie brown x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie brown fanfiction #reader insert #afab reader #hobie brown x you #modern au #atsv fanfiction #spider punk #hobie brown fluff #hobie brown x fem!reader

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ceo-of-sloppy-men · 10 months

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I am sick and tired of America controlling the internet and putting other people in other countries on edge

if you haven’t heard about KOSA, google it, I beg you. Because it is targeted at Tumblr. Specifically.

As a Canadian writer, it is terrifying to even have to entertain the idea that my space may be taken away from me because some fuck ass transphobic shit heads want to control everyone else. It’s even more terrifying as a queer content creator. We aren’t hurting anyone, but going after fandom spaces under the guise of protecting children is.

Where is this same fire for R34 sites which could be actively harmful to your kids? I for one was a child with unrestricted internet access and was severely fucked up by r34 sites (and Twitter). I have seen shit I cannot unsee, no matter how hard I want to. Tumblr, Ao3 and wattpad were actually beneficial to me because they taught me how to healthily express my creativity and nursed my writing & art skills. They (the makers of the bill) don’t want that. They don’t give a flying fuck about kids and their internet safety - if they did they would have much different approaches. What they actually want is to go after queer spaces so they can control everyone. Because if they control what is online, everyone can fall into the alt right pipelines with no other option or voices to listen to. They can silence us all. They want to silence us all. They want queer youth and adults alike so they feel alone and wrong, and curl up in on themselves until we go underground again.

This needs to be talked about. Especially now, because they are doing it while all the focus is on the writers strike and the anti trans bills, so they can slip this one under the radar until it’s too late.

I’m Canadian so I know little in the way of how to stop your American bill process. So do your own research and fight back! Contact your local representative, share information, for once in your life scream from the damned roof tops.

If shit does get shut down here, I will move this blog to Pillowfort and definitely find some other places to post fanfic. If ao3 fully goes down, I will repost some of my fics, such as White Lies. I refuse to be silenced because some pasty ass republicans want me to open wide for their shrivelled penis all thanks to a body I had no control over selecting.

#kosa bill #KOSA #read me #internet safety #internet #tumblr #american politics #tw transphobes

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yangkitties · 10 days

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bros before hoes ✰ profiles: NEXUS

NEXUS is a 7 member group under PLEDIS. NEXUS stands for how they are the connecting point between now and the future. NEXUS is also word play on the phrase ‘next us’ to show that they are the future, and the next big thing. Their fandom name is 'AXIS', signifying that their fans are their central point which allow NEXUS to continue being who they are!

park y/n: 02, nexus’s mood maker. OBSESSED with park sunghoon since the age of 11 when they saw him on tv for the first time, he's basically half their personality. makes terrible decisions and learns from them the hard way. genuinely just a little goof trying to survive.

bang chan: 97, nexus’s oldest. the best leader anyone could have asked for, but runs the practice room like the military. gives the best hugs and is doing his best to make sure his group stays out of trouble.

kim sunwoo: 00, nexus’s resident sassy boy. likes to stir shit up even though he’s one of the oldest. actually just a little bit of a loser who likes anime too much. has weird friends.

lee chaeryeong: 01, nexus’s sweetheart. so sweet. just so nice and lovely and silly. everyone loves her and treats her like a little princess, even though she’s one of their oldest. deserves everything in the world and more !!

lee jooyeon: 02, nexus’s silly goose. likes to play the guitar and is generally very nice. super supportive and cheerful, has the voice of an angel. actually just the sweetest guy ever.

fukutomi tsuki: 02, nexus’s visual. loves loves LOVES making new friends. an absolute queen, and has been friends with y/n since both of them became trainees. has known y/n the longest. friend’s with enhypen’s jungwon.

oh haewon: 03, nexus’s maknae. funny and savage as FUCK, loves hanging out with her members. she brings balance to the group and is slightly too chronically online for her own good.

prev | m.list | next

synopsis > with the help of fukutomi tsuki, park y/n finally gains the courage to face their long time crush, the one and only, park sunghoon. park sunghoon thinks it's love at first sight when he sees her. paired up as the new mcs of music bank, shenanigans ensue when y/n learns about sunghoon's crush...

note: i had so much fun coming up with the group concept and stuff lol

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fredwkong · 8 months

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Hey! I’d love some help from the himbo maker my friend and I are going to the beach for the end of summer vacation and I think he needs to chill out and be a himbo surfer

You’re absolutely sick of your friend’s neurotic planning and fretting about your beach trip, so you make sure to send him the link to that Himbo AI thing you found online. Assuming that it’s yet another link about cruising spots or something, he opens it with a groan, and is surprised when a chatroom opens and a message loads.

Himbo_mkr: Hey bro, all that sun and sweat’s paid off this summer!

Your friend preens a bit at the message. Yeah, he’s spent loads of time outside this summer, really getting his body right for this trip. He’s glad that all the time he spent on his tan has been working, he’s managed not to get any tan lines across his thick chest.

Himbo_mkr: Huhuhu, it’s easy to get big when you’re such a carefree dumbass.

Your bro chuckles, stroking his short beard as he struggles to read the short sentence. He’s not the smartest guy, but he’s always so happy and fun that everyone gets along with him. What’s he doing sitting at some desk? He should be looking for someone to play with his chest hair and tell him how sexy he is!

Himbo_mkr: Hell yeah, bro, you gotta go catch those waves!

A few minutes later, your friend bursts in your door, wearing a tiny pair of swim trunks and a stupid grin. “C’mon, bro, let’s get goin’,” he says, in his slow, goofy voice. “I got our boards strapped to the top of the Jeep.”

“What?” You squawk, as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. “I don’t surf!” You just wanted to watch him! “And we aren’t packed!”

“No worries, we’ll just sleep in the Jeep, bruh. You'll love getting my salty cock in your throat to help you sleep. And here, this’ll help you learn.” He passes you his phone, where there’s an unfamiliar chatroom open. A message begins to load.

Want to chat with the Himbo Maker? He loves to twist your words, so be careful what you're asking for.

#male transformation #mental change #answered ask #muscle tf #dumber tf #male tf #himbofication #surfer tf #himbo maker #all fwkong

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julibeeline · 2 years

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crew boys when they like you hcs

[romantic crew boys x streamer reader]

masterlist

DREAM

purposely tries so hard to get shipped with you just to see your reaction

does everything in his power to talk to you, text you, stream with you, whatever it is

loves spoiling you and sending you stuff as a surprise when he misses you

rants about you without knowing and gets embarrassed afterwards

sends you pictures of patches as a conversation starter :]

loves when you compliment him or say soft things; it melts his heart

SAPNAP

goes really quiet when you talk to him and gets shy easily

would focus on you more privately rather than on stream and in public

sends you cute texts you everyday

“how’s your day going?”

“enjoy your night!”

“have a great stream :)”

gets all giggly when he talks to you alone

loves hearing your voice through his phone no matter the situation

GEORGE

100% THE TEASING TYPE

he’s like those middle school boys that would bully you to get your attention

makes fun of everything you to just to get a rise out of you

gets jealous easily when he sees you talking to his friends more than him

wants your attention 24/7; he thrives off of it

EVERYONE can tell he likes you even though he denies it every time

blushes when you talk softly to him but brushes it off so quickly

KARL

a ton of cute text faces “:] :c :>”

would be so shy in private but so loud on streams and recordings

people assume that he likes you, but they can’t really tell if it’s a joke or not

stretches out every conversation in order to spend more time with you

sends you selfies, photos, just whatever he’s doing atm he has to let you know

holds your hand and hugs from behind

always asks jimmy to invite you to a mr.beast recording just to see you in person

QUACKITY

mood maker, brightens up every situation

wants to help you out with every problem you have

definitely serious with this kind of stuff even though he’s never really serious

music recommendations, shared playlists are everything for him

sends you every song that reminds you of him in the slightest

tries to be the brightest, funniest person in the room whenever you’re included

just admires you when you aren’t aware

nobody online is known of his crush, its only a shared thing between the two of you :)

#dream smp #dream team #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sapnap #crew boys #feral boys #karl jacobs #quackity #mcyt x reader

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violetsandshrikes · 1 year

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Since sharing this post about a usful AI used to compile and graph research papers, I've realised I have a few other resources I can share with people!

Note: I haven't had a chance to use every single one of these. A group of post-grad students has been slowly compiling an online list, and these are some I've picked out that are free (or should be free and also have paid versions). However, other students using them have all verified them as safe.

Inciteful (Using Citations to Explore Academic Literature | Inciteful.xyz) – similar to connectedpapers + researchrabbit. Also allows you to connect two papers and see how they are linked. Currently free.

Spinbot (Spinbot - Article Spinning, Text Rewriting, Content Creation Tool.) – article spinner + paraphraser. Useful for difficult articles/papers. Currently free (ad version).

Elicit (Elicit: The AI Research Assistant) – AI research assistant, creates workflow. Mainly for lit reviews. Finds relevant papers, summarises + analyses them, finds criticism of them. Free (?)

Natural Reader (AI Voices - NaturalReader Home (naturalreaders.com)) – text to speech. Native speakers. Usually pretty reliable, grain of salt. Free + paid versions.

Otter AI (Otter.ai - Voice Meeting Notes & Real-time Transcription) – takes notes and transcribes video calls. Pretty accurate. Warn people Otter is entering call or it is terrifying. Free + paid versions.

Paper Panda (🐼 PaperPanda — Access millions of research papers in one click) – get research papers free. Chrome extension. Free.

Docsity (About us - Docsity Corporate) – get documents from university students globally. Useful for notes.

Desmos (Desmos | Let's learn together.) – online free graphing calculator. Free (?)

Core (CORE – Aggregating the world’s open access research papers) – open access research paper aggregation.

Writefull (Writefull X: AI applied to academic writing) – Academic AI. Paraphrasing, title generator, abstract generator, apparently ChatGPT detector now. Free.

Photopea (Photopea | Online Photo Editor) – Photoshop copy but run free and online. Same tools. Free.

Draw IO (Flowchart Maker & Online Diagram Software) – Flowchart/diagram maker. Free + paid versions.

Weava (Weava Highlighter - Free Research Tool for PDFs & Webpages (weavatools.com)) – Highlight + annotate webpages and pdfs. Free + paid versions.

Unsplash (Beautiful Free Images & Pictures | Unsplash) – free to use images.

Storyset (Storyset | Customize, animate and download illustration for free) – open source illustrations. Free.

Undraw (unDraw - Open source illustrations for any idea) – open source illustrations. Free.

8mb Video (8mb.video: online compressor FREE) – video compression (to under 8mb). Free.

Just Beam It (JustBeamIt - file transfer made easy) – basically airdrop files quickly and easily between devices. Free.

Jimpl (Online photo metadata and EXIF data viewer | Jimpl) – upload photos to see metadata. Can also remove metadata from images to obscure sensitive information. Free.

TL Draw (tldraw) – web drawing application. Free.

Have I Been Pwned (Have I Been Pwned: Check if your email has been compromised in a data breach) – lets you know if information has been taken in a data breach. If so, change passwords. Free.

If you guys have any feedback about these sites (good or bad), feel free to add on in reblogs or flick me a message and I can add! Same thing with any broken links or additions.

#free resources #academia #<- tag i was originally using for this stuff #useful websites #katie rambles

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kp777 · 1 year

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By Gene Marks

The Guardian Opinions

April 9, 2023

Everyone seems to be worried about the potential impact of artificial intelligence (AI) these days. Even technology leaders including Elon Musk and the Apple co-founder Steve Wozniak have signed a public petition urging OpenAI, the makers of the conversational chatbot ChatGPT, to suspend development for six months so it can be “rigorously audited and overseen by independent outside experts”.

Their concerns about the impact AI may have on humanity in the future are justified – we are talking some serious Terminator stuff, without a Schwarzenegger to save us. But that’s the future. Unfortunately, there’s AI that’s being used right now which is already starting to have a big impact – even financially destroy – businesses and individuals. So much so that the US Federal Trade Commission (FTC) felt the need to issue a warning about an AI scam which, according to this NPR report “sounds like a plot from a science fiction story”.

But this is not science fiction. Using deepfake AI technology, scammers last year stole approximately $11m from unsuspecting consumers by fabricating the voices of loved ones, doctors and attorneys requesting money from their relatives and friends.

“All [the scammer] needs is a short audio clip of your family member’s voice – which he could get from content posted online – and a voice-cloning program,” the FTC says. “When the scammer calls you, he’ll sound just like your loved one.”

And these incidents aren’t limited to just consumers. Businesses of all sizes are quickly falling victim to this new type of fraud.

That’s what happened to a bank manager in Hong Kong, who received deep-faked calls from a bank director requesting a transfer that were so good that he eventually transferred $35m, and never saw it again. A similar incident occurred at a UK-based energy firm where an unwitting employee transferred approximately $250,000 to criminals after being deep-faked into thinking that the recipient was the CEO of the firm’s parent. The FBI is now warning businesses that criminals are using deepfakes to create “employees” online for remote-work positions in order to gain access to corporate information.

Deepfake video technology has been growing in use over the past few years, mostly targeting celebrities and politicians like Mark Zuckerberg, Tom Cruise, Barack Obama and Donald Trump. And I’m sure that this election year will be filled with a growing number of very real-looking fake videos that will attempt to influence voters.

But it’s the potential impact on the many unsuspecting small business owners I know that worries me the most. Many of us have appeared on publicly accessed videos, be it on YouTube, Facebook or LinkedIn. But even those that haven’t appeared on videos can have their voices “stolen” by fraudsters copying outgoing voicemail messages or even by making pretend calls to engage a target in a conversation with the only objective of recording their voice.

This is worse than malware or ransomware. If used effectively it can turn into significant, immediate losses. So what do you do? You implement controls. And you enforce them.

This means that any financial manager in your business should not be allowed to undertake any financial transaction such as a transfer of cash based on an incoming phone call. Everyone requires a call back, even the CEO of the company, to verify the source.

And just as importantly, no transaction over a certain predetermined amount must be authorized without the prior written approval of multiple executives in the company. Of course there must also be written documentation – a signed request or contract – that underlies the transaction request.

These types of controls are easier to implement in a larger company that has more structure. But accountants at smaller businesses often find themselves victim of management override which can best be explained by “I don’t care what the rules are, this is my business, so transfer the cash now, dammit!” If you’re a business owner reading this then please: establish rules and follow them. It’s for your own good.

So, yes, AI technology like ChatGPT presents some terrifying future risks for humanity. But that’s the future. Deepfake technology that imitates executives and spoofs employees is here right now and will only increase in frequency.

#ai #artificial intelligence #deep fake ai #deep fake voice #deep fake video #deep fake technology

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kanohivolitakk · 1 year

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Thank You, TheShadowedOne1

I’m not aware how many of you guys in the Bionicle Tumblr knew this person let alone watched his content, but yesterday it was informed to the greater Bionicle community that Nathan Paisie, known better online under his pseudonym TheShadowedOne1, an aspiring film-maker, stop-motion creator, hobbyist youtuber and decently notable member in the Bionicle community, passed away in the last november at the age of 28 to (at the time of this writing) unknown causes. In the Bionicle community, TheShadowedOne1 (which is how I will mostly be refering him as for the rest of this post) was notable for his series of Bionicle stop-motions, compliations of the Bionicle movies and for being one of the first notable content creators in the Bionicle Youtube community (also known as Biotube) who greatly helped to shape the landscape of the Youtube part of the fandom.

TheShadowedOne1 was one of the first big stop-motion content creators in the Bionicle community. He started to make videos in 2008 at the age of 13. During this time he made notable (although very rudimentary) videos such as “Phantoka” or “the Makuta”. Over the time he’d make some relatively notable stop-motion series, including the SALVATION series and the more comedic “Takadox and Pridak” series, both of which gained traction in the community and made him even bigger name in it than he was before. While a lot of his eariler works were a bit rudimentary, they were still enjoyable, decently impressive (especially for an at the time younger audience), and more importantly influental as one of the first big Bionicle stop-motion channels that inspired many other fans on creating their own stories and short-films. TheShadowedOne1s passion towards storytelling, making movies and Bionicle was always clearly in front, and it’d only become brighter as he matured and became more skilled.

As he grew older, TheShadowedOne1s skillsets would slowly improve and passion towards film-making only grew. As years went by, his stop-motion projects would become better crafted and more ambitious over time, each being more impressive than the last. TheShadowedOnes1 passion for filmmaking would lead him to eventually even film-making at college, as his big life-long dream was to create movies professionally. All skills he cultivated both from education and working on personal projects would lead in him making some really impressive stopmotion shortfilms including Bionicle: The Protodermis Mine,Takanuva Meets The Shadowed One or Voporak. These stop motions were technically rather impressive, with some of them using surprisingly indepth practical effects and tricks to make them work. In particular Voporak used some really impressive wire-work in it’s action scenes, something TheShadowedOne1 actually made a making of video on. In addition to his technical skills, TheShadowedOne1 was also pretty skilled at voice-acting and humor, both skills he’d utilize well in in his “Ask x” series where viewers could send question for a Bionicle character and he’d answer in character. The “Ask x” videos would mix light stop motion with humorous writing and TheShadowedOne1 giving each character a fitting performance. In particular his performances the the characters Vezon and Zaktann (both of whom he had voiced numerous times) were not only great, but fit to the characters to a T.

But while all of his later work was quite impressive, it was little more but practice for his passion project and what he most likely planned to becoming his Magnum Opus in the Bionicle stop-motion community: that being an adaptation of Time Trapped. Most likely inspired by to at least some extent by Noah Productions two stop-motion adaptations of the first two Ignition arcs as well as other similar ventures by other creators, TheShadowedOne1 really wanted to make an adaptation to the fanfavorite Bionicle novel that would give this beloved piece of Bionicle mythos the respect it deserved. In 2017, TheShadowedOne1 would release a “trailer” for the project that showcased the final battle of the story, which did earn decent traction among the stop-motion parts of the community. This trailer wasn’t meant to show clips that were meant to end in the final product, but instead act as a pitch or proof of concept, with the film being worked on from scratch. The adaptation would be something that TheShadowedOne1 worked on and off, with at least once starting the project from the very beginning, as he wanted it to be the best it could possibly be and the ultimate culmination of his filmmaking skills. TheShadowedOne1s biggest and most ambitious project was something he was sadly never able to complete, and there’s a good chance he never got to start properly on it, as he was rather busy with school, his personal life and working on other projects, including the finale for his SALVATION series, and said many times he wanted to be done with both his studies and SALVATION before he would start Time Trapped, as he wanted to commit to the project as much as he could and have as little distractions as possible beyond obligations in his work and personal life.

Besides his stop-motions TheShadowedOne1 did make quite a lot of other content on his youtube channel as well. In fact, from 2018 or so onward, most of his later videos being other content as he worked on his larger projects in background. His most notable videos in the Bionicle community weren’t his stop-motions, but rather compilations of the first three Bionicle movies, with a video that the complied first three Bionicle Movies in chronological order into one long film being his most viewed Bionicle video. He’d also make compilations, such as compliations of character themes, compliations showcasing every time a character was on screen in the movies or even sillier compliations like “Every time the characters say Takuas name” or “every time the characters say the word mask”. TheShadowedOne1 also made countdowns and was dabbling into other scripted content as he started “Olisi Other Paths” series where he’d present what would have happened if certain events would’ve gone differently in the Bionicle story. He also made videos where he built different characters, a few MOC showcases and even quite a few shitposts or other shorter sillyness. TheShadowedOne1s deep passion in movies and filmmaking showed in him making small videos or shitposts of his favorite movies, most notably the Jurassic Park films, which were heavily formative to him. He even posted his two student films to his channel: the Dastards, a tribute to the cowboy westerns of the past, and Teach, a film adapting the life of the notorious pirate Edward Teach.

In addition to his creative contributions and general output in his channel TheShadowedOne1 was also rather notable for being one of the biggest, most notable and most vocal fans of the Dark Hunters, as well as fan of Bionicle villains in general. In particular, he was a big fan of The Shadowed One (go figure), as he was his favorite character in the entire series and practically his online avatar. Later on he somewhat started to separate himself from the character, even starting to use his own face on camera for update videos and such, but even then he never completely divorced from the character and had him as part of his online persona and identity in the Bionicle community. TheShadowedOne1 often talked about his fondness for the character in his videos and had the character to play pivotal roles in his stop-motion stories like the aforementioned Takadox and Pridak or Takanuva meets The Shadowed One. He tended to interact with fancontent or participated in discussion involving the character both on his own channel as well as other places in the community he ventured to such as content creators he liked or forums he used. In addition, TheShadowedOne1 voiced the character both in his own stop motion films and in numerous other fan projects, including Ignition 2.

I’m rather shocked and deeply saddened by the news. For me, TheShadowedOne1 was easily one of my favorite Bionicle Youtubers, as well as one of my favorite content creators in the community at large. I watched a lot of Bionicle stop-motions growing up, and while I’m not sure if TheShadowedOnes videos belonged to these videos I watched as a kid, he probably inspired a lot of the channels I did watch. Eventually I discovered his channel, and ended up enjoying his content, though it faded away from my memory for some time. While it’s possible I had found his channel a year or two before, I remember rediscovering him at latest in 2017/2018, thanks to his Time Trapped trailer. I was very impressed with not only the trailer itself but the mere idea of someone wanting to adapt one of my favorite Bionicle stories into an animated movie. Ever since seeing that trailer, I continued to visit his channel from time to time, to see if he had done anything cool or funny recently, or if he had made any progress with Time Trapped. Sometimes I watched his channel more, other times less, but it was still a channel I’d revisit from time to time, and interact with at least once per year from 2017/2018 onwards.

As a longtime fan of his, I deeply loved TheShadowedOne1 channel. His passion towards filmmaking, storytelling and Bionicle showed in almost everything he did. It was present in his stop motions, it was present in his countdowns, his casual talk videos and even his shitposts. Even if his first videos weren’t the most technically impressive and even if a lot of his later stuff were compliations or shitposts, they were still enjoyable, and fun to watch. It was a channel that felt like a safe rock for me, something I could always go back to whenever I was in mood to watch some good Bionicle content or even watch a shitpost or two to wind down my time.

And I geniunely enjoyed his content a lot, no matter what type they were: I loved Takadox and Pridak for its humor and surprisingly bittersweet ending, I found his stopmotions such as Protodermis Mine or Voporak technically impressive works of the medium and was waiting excitedly for the Time Trapped adaptation, no matter when it’d come. I found his countdowns to be informative, I found his compliations to be useful in revisting moments of the movies and I thought the videos he built the models and talked about characters were really interesting to listen to. I liked the concept he had for Olisi Other Worlds, found the “Ask [x]” series to be hilarious and entrataining, and even enjoyed watching his shitposts from time to time. Whether it was his storytelling, his craft, his humor or his opinions, TheShadowedOne1s content is something I deeply adored, and enjoyed. Helped that the man behind the channel seemed to be a pretty decent and cool dude based on the glimpses I saw in his videos and other online presence.

But not only did I love TheShadowedOne1 for his passion and content, there was another reason I loved him as well: his passion towards the Dark Hunters and The Shadowed One. Every fandom has those fans that get associated with a particular character to the point they become the representative of that character, and that their love becomes part of that characters legacy, just as much as it becomes their legacy. And TheShadowedOne1 was the The Shadowed One fan. Whenever I thought of the channel, I thought of his love for the leader of Dark Hunters. And whenever I thought of The Shadowed One I thought of the channel and person behind it. The character and the content creator were so intermingled in my brain I associated them with each other extremely strongly.

But not only was TheShadowedOne1 the The Shadowed One fan, he was more or less the voice for The Shadowed One in Bionicle fan projects. While yes, I did enjoy his voice acting for other character, they weren’t the only takes of those characters I enjoyed. His voice as The Shadowed One was not only his definite performance by a long shot but also the definite version of the character in my eyes and ears. The deep sinister voice he did for The Shadowed One fit the character perfectly, and his acting was really solid as well. In fact, I loved TheShadowedOnes1 voice for the character so much that I actually suggested to the Mangai Projects director Max that he should try to get TheShadowedOne1 to voice the character into the series. Max did like my suggestion, but I’m not sure if anything concrete came out of it.

And just. That passion, that love TheShadowedOne1 had towards The Shadowed One just has been very influental for me. I loved how passionate he was of his favorite characters in his main fandom, and I feel it inspired me to be passionate towards the characters and stories I love and hold dearly. While I’m a naturally passionate person and want to lovemail my faves as much as possible, given how the internet sometimes feels outright hostile to geniune passion and love, it’s nice to see other people who dedicate their online presence to a specific character, and show how much that character means to them in everything they do online. Seeing the passion he had inspired me to keep going and share my passion towards the characters and stories that mean a lot to me, even if the rest of the world seemed like it was against me in doing so.

It saddens me that all that is gone.That the person who I looked up to and whose content I adored is gone. In spite of never knowing TheShadowedOne1 personally, instead only looking at his creations at far, loosing him still stings. Loosing someone who affected me deeply feels like loosing a part of myself, no matter if the relationship was only onesided parasocial admiration. And that’s how it feels. Knowing that one of my favorite content creators in this fandom and a huge inspiration for me is dead feels so absurd, so unreal and so agonizing.

I’m saddened that we will never see SALVATION 6 or Time Trapped released. I’m saddened that we won’t see any more shitposts or countdown videos. I’m saddened that we won’t get more Olisi Other Worlds beyond it’s first episode. I’m saddened that we won’t hear TheShadowedOne1 voice TSO in fanprojects such as the Mangai Project or Bionicle Illiad. There’s a possibility we could hear him voice the character one last time in Bionicle Ignition:Battle for Power as he was cast to reprise his role, but even then that isn’t guaranteed.

But I’m not just sad of loosing TheShadowedOne1, the content creator and figure in the Bionicle community. I’m sad of loosing Nathan, the person behind the online persona, in spite of never knowing him. I’m saddened that someone as young, talented and passionate as him died before he was able to fulfill his dreams. I’m saddened someone who wanted to leave a mark on the form of entertaiment he loved was never able to get into the industry. I’m saddened a promising young filmmaker wasn’t able to create the next classic that would be loved by generations to come, just as he loved the movies that inspired him. I’m saddened he wasn’t able to continue his enjoying his hobbies and passions. I’m saddened that his friends, family and loved ones who lost a person they cared a lot about. I’m saddened about all the opportunitnies and possibilities in his future that were robbed off him because his life was cut short. I’m saddened that he wasn’t able to life a long and fulfilling life.

Life is fleeting thing. While life may feel long, in reality it is just a little drop in the ocean, that will be snuffed out before we even realize. When we live in moment day to day lives we forget that humans aren’t immortal. We forget that eventually people will die, and that eventually the journey we call ‘‘life’‘ will reach it’s destination. But we also forget that people die young. We often think of death as something that happens to old people, while forgetting that death can happen to anyone. The Grim Reaper doesn’t choose his harvest based on age, but instead can come to anyone even during the moments they last expect it. Death can be merciless, it can be random, it can be unpredictable. So cherish your life and cherish the life of those who matter to you, and show how much you appreciate them before its too late. Live to your fullest and like every day was your last, because you never know when it will be the end.

And to Nathan.Thank you for everything you did in this community. Whether you knew it or not, you were one of the most important building blocks in making the Bionicle fandom what it is today, especially on the Youtube side. You influenced many people in ways you probably couldn’t imagine.. You helped fostering a community, and was present there as one of it’s most important and prominent pillars. Whether you realize or not probably helped people find friendships and communities, You will be dearly missed by me and the many other members in this community who enjoyed and were inspired both by your work and you as a person.

Thank you and rest in peace.

#Kirika Talks #Bionicle #TheShadowedOne1

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