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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

Text

The Periphery

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: This accidental behemoth is based on this post and part of the lil fic triptych with The Worst Best Man (Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader) @tropes-and-tales Team Prime (Bob Floyd x Reader)

No physical descriptions, no use of y/n. Also not beta-read. Because it never is.

Length: 11.1K

Warnings: Slowburn (i know, shocker); angst (I know, shocker); fluff; happy ending!!

Summary: You’d met Bradley a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.

“Alright, what have we got, what have we gooooot…” Bradley asked, turning the steering wheel and guiding the Bronco onto the avenue.

“Let’s see,” You looked down your checklist. “Candy and labels for the favor bags?”

“Check.”

“Final payment for the florist.”

“Check.”

“Final payment for the cake.”

“Check.”

“Drop off the…Card-thingies for the seating placement at the venue.”

“Place cards?” Bradley chuckled.

“You knew what I meant. Only thing left is putting the favor bags together and we are set.”

“Hell yeah. Up top.”

You glanced over, smile widening when you spotted Bradley holding his hand up. You gave him a high five, chuckling as he crowed, “Boom! Dream team right here.”

You leaned back in your seat, shifting a little bit. Bradley was certainly the easiest person you’d had to work with over the course of this wedding—bride and groom included. You’d met him a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.

“Oh—Shit,” Bradley muttered.

“What is it?” You frowned.

“No, nothing. I need to grab my tux,” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Just remembered.”

“Oh,” You frowned, glancing back as he drove past the shop. “Do you wanna go now?”

“Uh…You sure?” He asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah! The rest of my day’s clear, I don’t mind.”

“You are a lifesaver,” Bradley swore, pulling his car into a parking spot. You waved him off, setting the checklist on the backseat of the car.

“Hang on,” He warned. You frowned, shaking your head, then smiled as he rounded the front of the car, opening the door for you.

“You’re such a gentleman, Bradshaw,” You teased.

“I try.”

He held the door open for you at the shop, too, and you tried not to get too flustered about it. But Bradley really was a gentleman. He’d shown you that repeatedly over the course of wedding prep, checking in periodically to see if you needed help with anything, or just to chat.

He gave his name at the desk, nodding and offering his thanks as the attendant left to get his suit.

“You get your dress yet?” He asked.

“Yep. Picked it up earlier in the week.”

“You are on it. I don’t know how you do it.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the bubble of flattery rising in your gut. “This isn’t my first wedding.”

“How many times have you been a Maid of Honor?”

“This is the…fourth time?”

“Holy hell.”

“I kinda like it,” You chuckled. “It was stressful the first time but the fourth time around, it’s sort of old hat, you know.”

“Bradshaw?” The attendant called out, waving the two of you deeper into the shop. “If you’ll follow me? We just want to make sure the alterations are all set before we send it out with you.”

You trailed after him, tucking your hands into your pockets, and grinning as he gave you a little wink before ducking into the changing room. You sat down in one of the chairs nearby, scrolling through your phone and shooting a text to Katie, the bride. You frowned as your phone began to ring, and you tapped on Katie’s name, taking the call and raising it to your ear.

“Hey, lady. How are you doing?” You asked.

“I’m okay. Are you guys done, have you gotten everything?”

You tried not to groan at the panicked edge in her voice.

“We have the stuff for the favor bags, we dropped the checks off.”

“Are you putting the bags together today?”

“Not today, but they will be done,” You leaned into the word to stave off her argument, “Before the end of the week, and dropped off to the venue on Friday.”

“Promise?”

“You have my word. Take a deep breath.”

“That Katie?” Bradley called out from behind the curtain.

“Yeah!”

“Tell her we’ll get it done!”

“I did!” You laughed before adding, “Bradley says we’ll get it done, too. ‘Kay?”

“Fine,” She sighed before belatedly tacking on, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks, hon.”

“Anytime. Bye.” You lowered your phone, looking down as you heard the curtain being pushed aside. You glanced up, doing a double-take at the sight of him. Your stomach flooded with butterflies at the sight. You bit your lip, gaze sweeping him from head to toe. You’d been to fittings with a few groomsmen in your day, but Bradley looked damn good. The suit fit him like a glove. You stood from where you’d settled down, tucking your phone away and stepping closer, folding your arms across your chest to fight off the urge to reach out and touch. Luckily for you, he hadn’t caught sight of your blatant interest as you hovered in his periphery. He was too busy double-checking his buttons.

“…It fits well,” You offered.

“Yeah?” He asked, glancing back at you. You couldn’t help the way your smile widened as you nodded, allowing yourself to move a couple of steps closer.

“Yeah. Do you like it?”

“Wearing a suit feels a little weird,” He chuckled, turning to look at himself in the mirror. “But I guess it’s good practice.”

“Good practice?” You repeated, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I’m getting married next year. Actually, all of this has been good practice. You’ve been a lot more helpful than you know.”

Your smile stayed frozen in place as your neck went hot, your blood roaring in your ears. It made sense. It made so much sense, and it had no right to hurt, to twist your insides up. You nodded, and dropped your gaze to his left hand, like you could spot where the ring would sit; you wondered what kind, what metal. Engraved? Plain? Gold? Silver? Bradley struck you as the type to have a plain outer band, and an engraving inside—some secret message, or initials, or the date that they met—the date of their wedding anniversary so that he’d never forget, but Bradley wasn’t the type to forget—

“You’re sure it looks alright?”

His question jolted you, made your smile twitch a touch wider out of panic, your eyes bright, attentive, and flickering to his face. Even with your newfound knowledge, your upset, your crushing disappointment—you couldn’t help the softening of your expression at his blatant nerves.

“Yes,” You nodded. “I’m sure.”

–

It was ridiculous, right?

It was ridiculous that it formed a knot in your chest. It was ridiculous that you were so rocked by the revelation that you couldn’t sleep. You needed to do something to get your mind off of what you’d learned; off of the sight of Bradley in that tux, bright and hopeful.

He’d told you all about his fiancé on the drive back to your place. That was sort of your fault. You had asked—but it had seemed rude not to, once you knew that there was someone in the picture. Bradley had told you all about Liz: how they met (she was a friend of his WSO’s), how long they’d been together (six months), how the proposal had gone (she’d been the one to plan it—from the ring, to where he proposed, to the photographer who photographed the occasion, to the party of friends and family that they went to afterward), how the wedding planning was going.

“It’s been a bit of whirlwind, planning-wise…Actually, the whole relationship has been,” He’d shrugged. “And our schedules are nuts. We kinda keep moving the goalposts.”

“On what?”

“…Well, when it’s gonna be, for one.”

His laughing admission had planted a little seed of hope in the nest of dismayed vipers making a home in your belly, but you wouldn’t allow it to take root. It was to be expected. Like he said, their schedules were nuts. But still…

When it’s gonna be.

It rose to the top of mind now and again as you worked on the favors through the night, putting custom labels on the bottles of wine, making sure each bag had a corkscrew, and tying a strip of white ribbon around the neck of the bottle.

When it’s gonna be.

Couldn’t they just elope, if they were so worried about that? Have a proper wedding later, when things were more settled, if it was causing them so much stress? You hadn’t brought that up, of course. It wasn’t any of your business.

When it’s gonna be.

You set the final bottle in the final bag, then dropped the corkscrew inside. You’d already put on the label, and the ribbon. You sighed heavily, looking around your living room. It was crowded with nearly two hundred completed favor bags. How the hell were you going to get them down to your car? Could you even fit all of these in your car? You groaned, leaning back against the couch and scrubbing your hands over your tired eyes.

Maybe you hadn’t only done the favors to keep your mind off of Bradley. Maybe you’d done it to avoid him, too, just a little. Getting them all done yourself meant that you didn’t have to spend an extra couple of hours with him. Sure, it would’ve gone faster with two, but if you wanted this crush to end with the wedding, you needed to start distancing yourself.

It wasn’t the kindest way to deal with the circumstances—and maybe your feelings would ebb, now that you knew there was absolutely no chance of acting on them.

Still, whatever happened, you’d gotten the favors done before the end of the week, as you’d promised Katie.

–

“When should I come by? I can bring pizza or something, we’ll get those favors knocked out before the party.”

It was a sweet offer, because Bradley was a sweet guy. You planted your elbow on your desk, plaintively eyeing your work email before looking around to see if any of your coworkers were listening in.

“Actually, I took care of them,” You admitted. There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and you bit your lip, waiting for his answer.

“You—…All of them?” He finally asked.

“Mhm!” You forced the tone of your hum to be bright and chipper.

“That’s, like…That’s like two hundred bags.”

“One hundred and ninety-seven, but. Close!”

“I could’a helped you.”

You thought that he sounded disappointed, but surely you were reading into it.

“No, I know! I know. I got them done, it was no problem. I had time.”

There was another pause on the other end of the phone, and you found yourself wondering if he was distracted with whatever he was doing on the other end of the line.

“…How long did it take?” He asked.

“A bit? I don’t know. I didn’t time it. It was fine, I was awake.”

“You did them last night?”

“Yes! When else?” You laughed nervously. “Look, it’s seriously fine. They’re all set.”

“Are you alright?”

You sagged back in your office chair.

“Yeah,” You fibbed.

Another harrowing pause. Then—

“Alright.”

It sounded like a tired concession. You forced yourself to draw in a deep breath, trying to lift the anxious weight moving to settle in your chest.

“I’ll need help bringing them to the venue,” You added.

“I can do that.”

You knew he could; you hadn’t doubted his willingness to help at any turn. You tipped your head into your hand, nodding a little bit.

“Sounds good, thank you.”

“You looking forward to the party tonight?”

No, you really weren’t. In your experience, joint bachelor/bachelorette parties were either hellishly boring, or nothing but trouble.

“Yeah!” You chirped. “It’s gonna be fun!”

–

Dinner had been nice. The first couple of rounds of drinks had also been nice. Moving to a club had felt like a bad idea, but there you were nonetheless, crammed between the bar and Bradley. You were trying to focus on anything but the feeling of his body behind yours and the scent of his cologne as you waited for your drinks. This was bad. This was sort of torture. You peered around your shoulder as you heard Katie shriek in excitement, and smiling as her fiance, Cory, leaned in to give her a kiss.

“They’re sweet.”

Bradley had to get close to say it—to speak it into your ear, over the sound of the music. He rested his hand on your hip, as if he had to hold and keep your attention, as if you wouldn’t know that he was talking to you. You managed a nod, your fingers flexing against the bar. You lowered your head, stomach twisting as the bartender pushed your drinks toward you. You reached out, passing Bradley’s drink back to him before you took hold of your own.

Bradley gave your hip a squeeze, steering you back toward the group. Oh—god. You closed your eyes tightly for a second before you turned to face Bradley. You pressed your drink toward his hand, forcing him to let go of you and take hold of it, and leaned in so that he could hear you.

“I’m going to get some air! I’ll be right back.”

You turned, squeezing through fellow clubbers before he could ask or argue. You gave the bouncer a murmur of, “Excuse me,” As you slid past him. You puffed softly as the sounds of the club dropped away. The air outside was warm; the breeze pushing over you almost smelled sweet compared to the stench of sweat and booze waiting for you back inside.

Ugh, god. You didn’t want to go back inside, but you knew you couldn’t get away with going home. Most of your stuff was inside, anyway—your phone, your wallet, your bag.

“Do you have a light?”

You glanced up at the question, giving the man asking a small shake of your head.

“No, sorry.”

“Eh. I’ll find one.” The man reached into his pocket, tapping out two cigarettes. “Want one?”

“I’m good, but thank you.”

He grunted, pushing the other one back into the pack before drawing one out and tucking it between his lips. He wandered away, and you leaned back against the outside of the club.

Maybe you could slide into the booth, grab your things, say goodbye to Katie and Cory, and just dip without him noticing—

“Sure you don’t want one?”

You looked up, nerves twisting as the man leaned close against the wall beside you. You shook your head, straightening up.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” You insisted, heading for the door.

“Hey, c’mon. You could at least keep me company,” The man argued, taking hold of your wrist and tugging you back toward him. Panic trickled through your veins as you tried to yank your wrist back, hissing, “Let go of me—”

“Hey!”

You hardly caught sight of Bradley before he was shoving the man harshly against the wall.

“The fuck, dude!” The smoker spluttered, dropping your wrist as he gave Bradley’s chest a shove in return.

“She said let go, asshole,” Bradley seethed, knocking the man’s hands away. Oh, fuck. You glanced nervously toward the bouncer and the people waiting on line as they took notice of the trouble brewing. Bradley could not get into shit on the weekend of the wedding—Katie would kill you both.

“He did, he let go! He let go,” You insisted, resting your hand on Bradley’s chest. When it didn’t nudge him back, you took hold of his hand, tugging him back with all your might and hardly budging him. “Let’s go!” You gave his arm another pull, pleading, “Bradley, please.”

It took another harrowing moment of contentious staring between the two before Bradley drew away, his tight, sharp gaze still set on the other man. You gripped his hand more tightly, raising your other hand to press against his shoulder.

“Let’s go back inside,” You urged. “Come on.”

It took another couple of pulls before Bradley acquiesced, trailing you back toward the bouncer. He hesitated at the door, eyes still set on the man before he allowed you to pull him in.

“Are you alright?” Were the first words out of his mouth.

“Are you crazy?” Were yours as you ripped your hand away from his. “What the hell were you thinking!”

Bradley looked stricken, brow knitting together.

“The hell did you expect me to do? He was all over you!”

“Why did you even follow me outside?”

“You practically ran out here, I thought something was wrong—and then I got out there and it was worse than I thought.”

You sighed heavily, turning away and shaking your head.

“Let’s just…Can we go back to the others?” You mumbled, turning from him. You heard him fall into step a couple of paces behind you, seeming to keep a measured distance as you made your way back to the rest of the wedding party. Once there, you embedded yourself deep into the corner with the bride and the other bridesmaids, forcing your smile wide and avoiding Bradley for the rest of the night.

–

It had been terrifying, having someone grab you—but the speed with which Bradley had come to your rescue was…Sort of hot? Sure, you could’ve gotten out of it yourself, but he hadn’t even hesitated. He’d gotten right up in that guy’s face—for you. You were certain that he would’ve done it for any of the other bridesmaids…Though you weren’t sure if he would’ve followed them outside…

No, he would’ve. Surely he would’ve. He was a good guy, it seemed like something he would do—

“Hey.”

He was nice, and sweet, and…Really, really attractive, god. The look on his face, the cords of his neck straining as he’d shoved the man, as he’d hissed, She said let go, asshole—

“Hey!”

You jumped at the feeling of Katie flicking the side of your head. The backseat of the uber was a tight squeeze with you, Karie, and Cory. You turned from looking out through the car window, smiling when you saw her watching you. Cozied into Cory’s side, she was peering at you with hazy blue eyes; her copper hair seemed dull under the glow of passing streetlights; her bride sash hung limply around her middle.

“What?” You chuckled.

“What’s going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re being all…” She waved a finger at you. “You’re being weird. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“I heard Bradley tell Cory that someone grabbed you.”

Your face burned with embarrassment, but you forced your expression to a neutral set.

“It was some drunk guy outside of the club,” You excused. “No big deal, you know. Nothing I’ve never dealt with.”

“You were all weird when you came back, too. All quiet.”

“It was loud in there, and I didn’t have much to say. I was vibing.”

Katie’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could feel her winding up for a question before she was distracted by the sound of Cory snoring behind her. You grinned as she shifted beside him, elbowing in the side with a hiss of, “Babe! Don’t snore, you’re gonna kill my uber rating!”

–

Loading the favor bags into Bradley’s Bronco was done in awkward silence. Neither of you said much, apart from, “Here,” and, “Thanks,” and, “I can grab that one.” Despite how carefully they were cushioned as you put them into the car, you found yourself looking into the backseat every few moments as you heard the bottles rattling from some bump in the road. You glanced at Bradley as you turned to look through the windshield again. You weren’t hungover, but you did have a growing headache.

“…Sorry I got snippy last night.”

It sort of pained you to say it, but you’d been repeating it in your head for the last two hours. You had to work your way up to saying it. You’d played with the phrasing, the tone, the pace, and it still felt stupid as it came out of your mouth. Before Bradley could say anything, you added, “I know you were just trying to help and I shouldn’t have freaked out at you like that.”

Bradley still didn’t respond, and it took everything in your power to not turn and look at him, to see if he was even listening, or if he was rolling his eyes. But after a moment, he offered, “S’alright. I may’ve overreacted a little.”

“…I thought you were gonna slug the guy.” You were trying to tease him, but Bradley didn’t even miss a beat:

“I thought I was, too.”

You turned to look at him then, stunned. Bradley kept his focus on the road, his jaw clenched, his gaze unreadable behind his sunglasses. You swallowed thickly, looking into the backseat again as the bottles rattled.

“Would you stop fussin’ over those?” He groaned. “They’re fine.”

“They better be. We don’t have any extras if they break.”

“Want me to slow the car to fifteen miles an hour?”

You could see him starting to smile in your periphery. Your stupid, crush-blind giddiness welled, feeling the tension in the car begin to break down.

“No…” You twisted back around in your seat, slumping petulantly. “Twenty will be fine.”

Bradley turned to look at you as the car came to a stop at a red light, gazing at you over the top of his sunglasses.

“Twenty-three, final offer.”

“Sold.”

Bradley’s smile made your stomach flip, and you both turned to look through the windshield again as the light turned green.

–

The wedding was perfect. The reception was painful.

Liz seemed lovely, and for as kind as you were trying to be, your attempts were made even more difficult by your wealth of feeling for Bradley, and the adoring way that he curled his arm around her shoulders, pressed a kiss to her cheek, her lips, her temple; the way he offered to get her a drink, or something to eat; the way his hand slid automatically to her hip, or her lower back; the way he hung on her every word.

You didn’t belabor it. When you spotted the two of them dancing together, her body cradled safely against his, you furiously pushed away your feelings of inadequacy and upset away in favor of looking at Katie and Cory. You relaxed at the sight of them—at the love in their eyes, the sureness there.

It reminded you that loving someone wasn’t supposed to hurt. So whatever it was that you felt for Bradley could be left behind, in that room. You needed it to be.

–

“You missed the bouquet toss.”

The sound of his voice made you shiver a little. Aw, hell. You’d only just managed to center yourself. Looking out over the moonlit ocean had calmed you, somewhat. But maybe whatever feelings you had for Bradley could be left…On the venue’s patio? But you glanced back, leaning against the railing and eyeing Bradley as he came closer.

“I’m alright with that. The last time I was in the middle of one of those, I almost got socked in the face.”

“Yeesh,” Bradley muttered.

“Yeah, bouquet tosses are no joke.”

He rested his arms against the wide railing beside you, looking out over the water. The two of you stood in calm silence for a while.

“So when’s your next Maid of Honor gig?”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Hopefully not for a while. I think I need a break from the wedding circuit.”

“You say circuit or circus?”

“Bit of column A, bit of column B.”

Bradley chuckled.

“Well, whenever it is, if you need a hand, you let me know.”

“Even if you’re not involved in the wedding?”

“Sure. This was honestly kinda fun. And it’s ‘cause I did it with you.”

The butterflies in your chest whirled restlessly as you felt Bradley look at you. You forced yourself to laugh, shaking your head.

“I wouldn’t foist wedding duties on you if you weren’t part of the wedding, Bradley. That would be mean. I appreciate the offer, though.”

“…Could I pick your brain about wedding stuff, sometime?” He hedged. “You know, as Liz and I get closer to ours?”

You could say no. You could remind him of what you said, of the fact that you were getting off of the wedding circuit once this wedding was up. You could stick to your conviction that as the necessity for your proximity passed, you’d keep your distance from him—

“Of course you can,” You nodded, turning to look at him. His sweet smile and the full weight of his gaze and focus were enough to crack you in two.

“Dream team?” He asked, holding his hand up for a high five. You nodded, giving him a quick high five before you curled your arms around yourself.

“Dream team.”

–

It had been a mistake to reopen the lines of communication. You’d made the decision while tipsy, sending him an innocent, innocuous message. You hadn’t even expected a response—but he’d gotten back to you within minutes. You could’ve cut the communication dead there, but you’d found yourself grappling for connection, for the feeling of being wanted. You knew you’d get it from your ex, for better or for worse, and you needed something to drown the rotting buds of affection that you still felt blooming for Bradley.

You hadn’t seen Bradley since the wedding, but the two of you had kept in touch. When he’d started calling you, most of the conversation had been around his wedding prep, but it hadn’t stayed that way. The two of you always managed to get off-topic—to ask and talk about one another’s lives, your days, your work. After the first couple of months, he seemed to drop the wedding chat entirely, just calling to talk. When you did try to steer it back in that direction—to a venue, or a time of year, or flowers—he managed to talk his way out of it. And you could’ve pried, but you let him avoid the topic. You were happy not to hear about Liz. Whenever your phone buzzed and his name appeared, your heart made a sharp leap from your chest to your throat. You craved the sound of his voice, missed the sight of his smile, reveled in his teasing and laughter.

So sure, starting a conversation with your ex, Ryan, had been sort of stupid. But it felt smarter than allowing your crush for an engaged man to completely cloud your judgement.

–

“Are you going to Cory and Katie’s for brunch this weekend?”

“Is that this weekend?” You groaned, tipping your head back. “Fuck, I forgot.”

“I thought you would’ve been on top of that! You were so on top of things for the wedding.”

“Well, that was different. That was way more involved.”

“Hey, brunch can be pretty damn involved.”

“You speaking from experience, Bradshaw?”

“I have faced some terrifying situations, but the worst of which was a bottomless brunch when they ran out of prosecco.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting in your office chair and stifling a snort.

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“So am I gonna see you?”

Am I gonna see you.

Not are we going to see you—because presumably Liz would be there, too. A few months ago, Bradley had mentioned wanting to bring her more into the fold, into his group of friends. Most of his friends knew Cory and Katie; most of them would probably be at brunch.

“Uh…” You eyed your calendar. “Maybe?”

“You too busy for me now?”

“For you?” You scoffed a laugh. “This isn’t your brunch, mister.”

“No, I know. That’s not what I mean, it just…”

Bradley trailed off on the other end of the phone, and you frowned, shaking your head.

“‘It just’, what?”

“It’s been a while since the wedding. It’d be nice to see you.”

“It’d be nice to see you, too.” The admission felt dangerous, but it was too late to draw back in—and it was mutual. You wouldn’t have dared say it to him if he hadn’t said it first.

“So come by,” He urged. “At least for a bit.”

–

For a bit. You could make it a short stop.

“We’ll be fast,” You swore. “Like, a hello and a bellini and then we are out of there.”

“Why are we going if you don’t even want to stay long?”

It was a valid question, but it made you bristle a bit. It was clear that Ryan wasn’t excited to go. Well, he’d never gotten along with your friends, anyway. He’d had a feeling that they didn’t like him—and he had been right. You hadn’t told anyone that the two of you were seeing one another again, and maybe it was unfair to ambush them like this, but you didn’t think you could be around Bradley and Liz—around their cooing and teasing and sweetness—without something or someone to distract you from the reality of the situation.

“You want me to drop you off somewhere?” You asked. “I can. I can drop you off and pick you up when I’m done.”

“I’m only meant—”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to go.”

“I never said I didn’t wanna go.”

“You’re acting like it.”

“You’re the one saying we don’t have to say long!” He scoffed. “Can we park and get in there?”

You puffed your cheeks out and pushed out a breath, shaking your head a little bit. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should turn around and head home—

But your heart leapt at the sight of Bradley’s Bronco parked a few cars back from Katie and Cory’s, and you knew you wouldn’t turn around.

Quick in, quick out. One bellini, maybe half of a bagel, a warning that you had other plans and couldn’t stick around long. Ask Katie how the honeymoon was, tell Cory to call you when they needed to plan the baby shower, maybe high five Bradley, and then you’d dip.

“We always hang out with my friends,” Ryan grumbled as you parked.

“Why is that even something you’d complain about?”

“Because you hide me from yours.”

You put the car in park, stomach churning guiltily as you met his eye.

“You don’t like my friends,” You reminded him.

“I’m willing to try, but they need to be, too.”

“…Okay,” You nodded. “I’ll talk to them about it. Not now, but like. I’ll talk to them about it.”

“Thank you.”

You sighed softly, reaching out and taking his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Ryan tipped his head back against the rest, slightly mussing his ash blond hair. “I don’t get why you’re so freaked about this brunch thing. It’s, like. Supposed to be chill, right?”

“It is. It is, it’s gonna be a lot of people, their apartment is pretty small. You know how I get when it’s loud and crowded, and…Overloads me.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, glancing toward the building.

“Let’s get you in and out, then,” He offered. “And then we can get me in and out.” He waggled his brows, and you huffed, drawing your hand out of his and getting out of the car.

Ryan took hold of your hand again once the two of you were on the sidewalk, trailing you as you led him to the door of the apartment building. You could hear music and chatter coming from Katie and Cory’s. You drew in a deep breath before you raised your hand, knocking on the door. It was a moment before it opened, and as soon as it did, your heart stuttered in your chest.

Your attraction to Bradley had never faded like it was supposed to. You had worked at it. You’d reminded yourself of the pros and cons, beaten yourself over the head with the fact that he was with someone, in a committed relationship. You had pushed yourself back into Ryan’s arms because, for a time, you had felt wanted by him. Things had never been perfect between you. You butted heads, and you tended to not want to budge on your arguments. You were quick to anger with one another, with each little nitpick reopening the old wounds. Your relationship had been on-again off-again for a couple of years, with each period of on-again falling into the same patterns that had led to the two of you splitting up in the first place.

This latest stint with Ryan had only been exacerbated by your frequent conversations with and interest in another man. Every conversation, every touch, hold, kiss, conversation, had been haunted with the idea of Bradley lingering in your periphery.

“Hey!” Bradley grinned. He reached out, drawing you in without a second’s thought or hesitation.

You leaned into him, curling your arm around his middle and patting his back. You held for as long as was appropriate, and not nearly as long as you’d like; the scent of him threatened to draw you back in. You would’ve embraced him fully if Ryan wasn’t still holding your other hand.

“I can’t believe you made it—Katie literally just told me there was no way you were showing up,” He added, leaning back to get a better look at you.

“Yeah, well,” You smiled weakly. “We can’t stay too long, but we wanted to drop in and see everyone.”

Your repeated use of we seemed to jolt Bradley. His gaze dropped to your other hand, then swept up Ryan’s arm to take in his face.

“Bradley, this is Ryan,” You added, stepping back to allow Ryan to come into the apartment fully. “Ryan, Bradley. Bradley was the Best Man at Katie and Cory’s wedding.”

“Aw, yeah, I’ve seen pictures from the day-of,” Ryan held his hand out, giving Bradley’s a shake. “Nice to meet you, man.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Bradley nodded.

“Where’s Liz!” You tacked on, glancing around. A look that you didn’t recognize flashed across Bradley’s face, but it was gone in a blink.

“Ah, she, uh…She couldn’t make it.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” You frowned—and you tried to mean it.

“It’s alright. Come on, come in,” Bradley added, waving you inside. “Sorry, I shouldn’t stall you guys in the doorway.”

“It’s okay,” You laughed, looking around before glancing back at Ryan. “Let’s see if we can go find the newlyweds.” You glanced up at Bradley, patting his shoulder lightly. “I’ll see you around.”

It felt wrong to say—it felt worse when you saw Bradley’s expression falter a touch. But you were already turning away from him and heading for a group of a few of your friends. You saw the flash of their horror and confusion before they pushed smiles onto their faces, squealing, “Hey!” as a group.

“Hi!” You smiled back, giving Ryan’s hand a reassuring squeeze. You leaned into each of them, kissing their cheeks before leaning back. Katie hardly leaned into you; her gaze was still set on your ex.

“Y’all remember Ryan,” You asked, waving back toward him. It garnered nods and murmurs of agreement.

“Nice to see you,” He offered before he leaned in a little. “I’m going to go grab a drink. You want one?”

“Sure,” You nodded, “Thanks.”

Before you could blink, Ryan ducked in, pressing his lips to yours in a quick, warm kiss. He didn’t overdo it, or make it pointedly salacious for the sake of your friends, like he may have in the past. Now, he gave your lower back a pat and turned, heading away from you, and leaving your little group in a pointed silence. You didn’t meet any of their eyes. You stared at Katie’s glass and warned them:

“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

It forced them off of the topic, and onto a new subject: Katie and Cory’s honeymoon in Ibiza. You found yourself half-listening; the other ear was unwittingly searching out the sound of Bradley’s voice in your periphery. You caught on it now and again for a syllable or two, and your head would twitch in his direction. It was impossible for you not to. As badly as you wanted to go to him—to soak up his smiles and his warm, kind eyes—you rooted yourself with your friends, averting your gaze from their nervous and judgemental glances.

But when the conversation shifted again—when your ear caught on Ella’s comment of, “—A shame about Bradley and Liz, isn’t it?” Your head snapped to them.

“I know,” Katie sighed, shaking her head, “He’s such a good guy.”

“What happened?” You frowned, shaking your head. The others glanced around conspiratorially before they leaned in a little more.

“Apparently,” Katie leaned into it, “He and Liz, like…Imploded. She said it was taking them too long to get the wedding together, he said that it would take as long as they needed—”

“Neither of them would budge,” Ella shrugged. “Apparently she eloped with some guy she met, like, the week after they split.”

“Oh, my god,” You breathed. The news twisted you all up; you didn’t know how it was possible that someone could do that to Bradley.

“Honestly, I don’t think she really even wanted to be married to him,” Cassie offered. “I think she just wanted to be married.”

You found yourself twisting around to try and catch sight of Bradley then—like you could see some visible sign of the change, the distress; like the ring you’d come to imagine sitting on his finger had disappeared.

And then Ryan rested a hand on your lower back and pressed a bellini into your hand, and it was like a bucket of ice water had been tipped over your head.

Bradley hadn’t said a thing to you. You had been asking about Liz for months. You had questioned their plans: their honeymoon arrangements, their colors, their venue options; you’d offered to get him in touch with coordinators, with florists, and DJs and caterers and bakers and goddamnit, why hadn’t he told you?

Why hadn’t he at least feigned that the wedding was on hold? That they were regrouping, or restrategizing, or asked you to change the topic, or to just shut the hell up about it? Had he not wanted you to know? Was it a matter of his loss, his pride?

Finally catching sight of him across the room, you found him with a gaggle of guys. He had a glass in his hand, and a smile on his face as he laughed—the kind that made his eyes crinkle, and his chin tip up with the force of it. You saw his head turn toward you a touch, and you hurriedly averted your gaze, raising your glass to your lips and taking a deep draw from your glass. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. The alcohol seemed to burn and bubble as it dropped into your belly.

“Hon, are you okay?” Ella asked, frowning at you. “You’re looking a little green around the gills.”

“Uh…No, you know what, I actually, um,” You cleared your throat. “I’m not feeling well. I think we should get going, actually, we’ve got some other things that we need to, um…” You cleared your throat, glancing back toward Ryan. He looked as confused as your friends. Maybe he figured the two of you would stay for more than five minutes. You were a flurry of apology as you pecked their cheeks, grabbing Ryan’s hand and half-dragging him out of the apartment.

“They say something about me?” He asked tiredly as the two of you left.

“No,” You shook your head, climbing into the car. “No, it really—I really do feel like shit right now.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest; the blood was roaring in your ears; your head was spinning. You stuck the key into the ignition before you leaned back to put your seatbelt on, drawing in a deep breath as you tried to calm yourself down.

“If you feel so shitty, you probably shouldn’t be driving,” Ryan grumbled.

“I can handle it.”

“You could’ve at least waited for me to get something to eat—”

“Oh my god,” You groaned. “Maybe you should’ve grabbed a bagel while you were already in the kitchen, then.”

“You said you wanted a drink.”

“You offered to get me one!”

You turned to the car, turning the key in the ignition before glancing at Ryan, doing a double take and waving at his chest.

“…What?” He asked.

“Would you put your fricking seatbelt on, please?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!” You insisted. “God forbid something happen, I don’t want you flying through the fucking windshield—”

“You know what?” Ryan reached out, opening the door. “I’m gonna walk.”

“You’re gonna walk?” You scoffed. “You’re really gonna fucking—”

You winced as he slammed the door shut. You shook your head, glancing into the rear view. Fucking fine. If he wanted to walk, he could fucking walk. You glanced to the side mirrors and checked your blindspot before flooring it out of the spot and peeling down the block. You glanced down as you heard your phone buzz, certain you would have a text from Ryan, asking you to pick him up at the corner.

Instead, you spotted Bradley’s name. You found yourself pitching your phone into the passenger side footwell on instinct as you turned back to the road.

He hadn’t even thought about pulling you in when he saw you. He’d drawn you into his arms, completely disregarding Ryan—so much so that he seemed surprised when you pointed Ryan out. He’d acted like you were the only person there.

You pressed your elbow against the door, resting your head on your head.

Six months. You had been asking Bradley (or trying to ask Bradley) about the wedding for the last six months. He had played along. You felt stupid, embarrassed.

And goddamnit, you felt hopeful.

–

When you finally got home and retrieved your phone from the car footwell, you had three texts and five missed calls.

Three of the missed calls were from Ryan, as well as one of the texts—a request to sit down and hash out whatever the hell happened at the party. Another was from Katie (Bitch, you got a lot of explaining to do with a gif of Ricky Ricardo waggling his finger). You saw the missed calls and texts from Bradley last:

BB (#DreamTeam)

Sorry I missed you on your way out

As if it was his fault.

Well, then again, it sort of was.

You eyed the last time he called; it had been a few minutes ago. You huffed softly, considering your options. You shot a text over to Ryan agreeing to meet first. You knew that delaying your response in favor of calling Bradley would send your guilt through the roof. Then, you hesitantly tapped on Bradley’s name, putting the phone on speaker. You glanced around, sighing and leaning back in the driver’s seat as the ringtone brrrr’d in the absence of his response. It was one ring away from going voicemail when you heard him pick up.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Hey. Sorry, I was driving, I didn’t, uh—I didn’t see that you called.”

“That’s okay.”

You nodded a little before you paused, brows raising a touch.

“So what’s up?” You finally pressed.

“Seemed like you left in a hurry. I turned around and you were just gone.”

“Something came up.”

“Katie said you weren’t feeling well.”

Snitch.

“I wasn’t.”

“Feeling better now?” Bradley pried, and before you could even think of your answer, “Wanna go grab a drink, or…Dinner, something?”

You tipped your head back against the rest, closing your eyes. No. No. That was an awful idea. You needed to get together with Ryan as soon as possible, to get your shit together, to work out whatever you needed to work out—

–

“You been here before?” You asked.

“Uh—”

“Hey, Rooster!”

Your brows raised as he raised a hand, waving at a woman not too far off. He turned a bashful smile toward you as he lowered his hand, folding his arms on the bar.

“It’s near the base, so it’s pretty popular with people in the service.”

“It’s nice in here,” You nodded, looking around.

“Nicer than Katie’s?”

He didn’t bother trying to be subtle, leaning into the question. You slowly turned to face forward again, casting the bartender a smile and a thanks as she set your drinks down. Bradley waited until she drifted away before he added,

“You ran out of there like you were on fire.”

“Thought you turned around I was just gone,” You reminded him, raising your brows. Bradley’s eyes skated across your face.

“Saw you out of the corner of my eye,” He admitted.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“I’ve seen you ditch out of somewhere before.”

You turned from him, taking up your beer.

“You need someone to sock that guy, I’m your first call,” Bradley added, and you couldn’t help but smile ruefully as you shook your head.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

“Katie said he doesn’t treat you right.”

“The way Liz treated you?”

It fell out of your mouth before you can stop it. You watched Bradley’s expression harden, his jaw clenching as his fingers flexed around the bottle in front of him. He didn’t hold your gaze. As bad as you felt for mentioning it, you couldn’t have it over your head anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You plied when he gave no answer. “I asked about that shit for months, like a fricking idiot.”

“You weren’t an idiot. You didn’t know.”

“Exactly my point! Why didn’t you at least pretend you had postponed it or something?”

“I didn’t wanna talk about it. I still don’t.”

“Then why’d you invite me out?”

“I said I didn’t want to talk about that, not that I didn’t want to talk at all.”

You both turned back to your drinks, gaze set contentiously on them.

“…I take it Katie told you about Ryan?” You hedged.

“A bit, yeah.”

“What’d she say?”

“That he’s a dick who won’t compromise.”

“Yeah, well,” You shifted on your bar stool. “I don’t exactly have a gold medal in that, either when it comes to him.”

“Just him?”

You considered for a moment, tipping your chin up and eyeing the opposite wall.

“We butt heads, we always have. It always starts out pretty well, and then…I don’t know. Little things start to break down, little communication errors or fights and they get bigger and bigger, and,” You raised a hand, mimicking an explosion. “He was peeved when we went to Katie’s, thought I pulled him out of there because they said something to me about him. I mean, they would’ve, probably. And they clearly said something to you.”

“She said she had no idea how you even linked back up.”

“I texted him a kitty picture.”

You saw Bradley frown out of the corner of your eye, his mouth working wordlessly as he seemed to grapple with something. It clicked, and you groaned, “No, an actual cat, you—” You reached out, giving his shoulder a light shove as the two of you dissolved into laughter, “You perv.”

–

You don’t let Bradley right back in, and you don’t show Ryan right out, either. Where your friendship with Bradley had been middling, your reopened channels of communication were slowly bringing it back to life. Where your relationship with Ryan had been waning, you gave it another shot in earnest.

–

“So when do I get to meet him?” Bradley asked.

“You already met him,” You chuckled.

“Not properly. I didn’t get a chance to really talk to him.”

“You want to?”

Bradley leaned back in his seat a little. You could feel his gaze sweeping you, even as you poked at your dinner.

“You don’t want me to?” He batted back. You shrugged.

“I have no problem with it. Kinda surprised, considering what Katie’s told you about him.”

“I like to draw my own conclusions. ‘Sides, if you’re with him, he can’t be all that bad.”

“Your opinion of me is way too high, Bradshaw.”

“Your opinion of yourself isn’t high enough.”

Your stomach flipped at his insistence, and you raised your drink to swallow your arguments.

“Gonna have to meet him soon,” He added.

“Why’s that?”

“I’m goin’ away.”

He said it so casually, so easily, like it wouldn’t hit you below the belt and ruin your appetite. You carefully lowered your glass back to the table.

“When?” You asked as lightly as you could manage.

“Next week.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“At least a couple of months.”

You nodded a little, belly squirming with nerves. It was a wholly irrational response. You knew very well what Bradley did. You just hadn’t come into contact with the reality of it before.

“So?” He leaned against the table. “When can I meet him?”

“…I don’t know, I don’t…” You shook your head. “I don’t know when he’s, um…” Your brain was scrambled all of the sudden. It was like it was being overtaken with the knowledge of Bradley’s leaving, the possibilities. “I’ll ask.”

“I’ll pencil it in.”

“Am I gonna see you before I leave?”

“With Ryan?”

“I mean if he can’t make it.”

You give Bradley a guarded gaze from beneath your eyelids, smiling as you see him nodding.

“Course you’re gonna. Dream team, remember?”

–

“Think your guy can pencil me in for when I’m back?”

You grimaced at his question. Bradley had been gone for almost a month, and asking that question for nearly just as long. Your phone time had only increased with his being so far away; you got a call from him every other day, if not every day. You shifted on your couch, eyeing your tv boredly.

“Be kinda weird for you to hang out with a guy I’m not with anymore, but yeah, I’m sure we could work something out.”

There was a moment of quiet on the other end of the phone before he asked, “When’d that happen?“

"Yesterday.”

“And what happened there?”

“We were not, uh…” You shook your head. “Ultimately, we weren’t compatible. I think that’s the nice way to say it.”

“What’s the mean way?”

“He’s a fucking dumbass.”

“Makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Sure. Anyone who can’t make it work with you—there’s gotta be something wrong with ‘em.”

You tipped your head back against your couch, your feet kicking with childish excitement. Ugh, goddamnit, he always seemed to know the right thing to say.

“Anyway,” You pushed on as you settled back down. “I can still set you up with Ryan.”

“No thank you.”

“Gee, why not?”

“He’s not really my type. Sounds like he’d be Liz’s, though.”

You smiled a little ruefully, hand scrubbing over the side of your neck. It had taken some time, but Bradley had finally opened up to you about what had gone wrong. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault, he’d sworn. It was just that they were in different places, ready (or not ready) for different things. He’d gradually gone from not giving a damn what she’d gotten up to without him to wishing her well. You couldn’t imagine feeling the same good will toward Ryan.

“Doesn’t seem like she needs a fix up,” You quipped.

“She certainly does not.”

“Mm. How’s it going over there?”

“It’s been alright. Tiring,” Bradley admitted. “We’ve moved on to parameter-specific runs, and it’s, uh…It’s gonna be a hard one.”

You bit your lip. You weren’t sure what to say that he surely hadn’t heard a hundred times before. Tell him that he would be fine? Beg him to come home safely?

You hadn’t been able to spend time alone with Bradley before he’d left. Katie had wound up having a small dinner at her place—something for friends, something more casual. You couldn’t bring yourself to selfishly break off another bit of his time, and you’d soaked up all of him that you could while you were there. When the party had ended, you’d trailed him back to the Bronco. Your conversation had gone on and on outside of it, and then inside when you couldn’t bring yourself to stand still. Even then, practically facing one another in the front seat of his car, you’d found yourself feeling antsy. You’d wanted to tell him something beyond the fact that you would miss him. You wanted to tell him that you were worried about him; you wanted to somehow let him know that the news of his sudden departure had kept you up for the better part of a week; you wanted to know if he would be thinking of you, too; you wanted to reach out and touch—his hand, his arm, his cheek, something.

But you’d kept to your side of the car, bottled your protests and worries, and resolutely tried to ignore the way your heart leapt in your throat whenever his knee nearly brushed yours.

Now, the clarity of distance told you that you’d done the right thing. Laying some confession of interest or a kiss on him would’ve clouded the lines of communication that you had open now—lines that you weren’t willing to jeopardize.

“You’ll get it,” You finally said, “Whatever it is.”

“I’d tell you more, but—”

“No, that’s alright. I think that would just make me more worried, anyway.”

“You worry about me?”

Crap. You slid down in your seat, pressing your head back against the cushion.

“Course I do,” You admitted quietly, as if he could lose the sound of you over the phone—as if your mumbled confirmation wouldn’t be chased or leaned into.

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, well, thank you for that absolution. I was only worrying for fun.”

“C’mon,” Bradley chuckled softly. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” You grumbled.

“It’s nice.”

“It’s nice? You enjoy making me worry? That’s just cruel, Bradshaw.”

“Swear to god, when I get back, I’m gonna—”

“What?” You goaded, heart ticking up in your chest. “What are you gonna do?”

Maybe it was a step too far. Bradley went quiet on the other end of the phone. Your mouth went dry as you waited with nervous anticipation. And then you registered the yell of someone on the other end of the phone, the use of his callsign.

“Shit,” He muttered, then, louder: “I gotta go.”

“Okay,” You nodded. It was better that he couldn’t see the nod, or the way panic washed across your face. “Be careful.”

He didn’t need to be told that, but you couldn’t help the plea.

“I will,” He swore. And then he was gone. You lowered your phone, watching as BB (#DreamTeam) flickered away, leaving your lock screen. Gonna what? What the hell was he gonna do when he got back?

Then again, you weren’t sure you cared what it was, so long as he did get back.

–

“Did I wake you up?”

“No!” You leaned over, turning your lamp on and pushing yourself to sit up, your phone clutched in your hand. You knew that the first thing you’d said to him, your groggy little opening gambit of, “Whazzit?” had probably given the game away, but hell, he’d asked.

You’d hardly heard from Bradley for the last few weeks. You hadn’t reached out. You hadn’t wanted to bother or distract him from his task. But on the late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you found yourself wondering if Bradley hadn’t contacted you because he couldn’t—because something had gone wrong. You’d found yourself constantly checking your phone, keeping it on the edge of your periphery on the off-chance he called or texted.

“You lying to me?” He added. At least he sounded a little amused by the prospect. You scrubbed your hand across your eyes. Damnit.

“…A little bit,” You mumbled.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Nooo,” You whined, kicking your feet petulantly beneath your sheets. “Talk to me.”

“You laying down?”

“…I was.”

“Lay back down.”

The order felt a little salacious, but you were sure he meant nothing by it. Still, you slid down as he said, tipping your sleep-heavy head back against the pillows.

“Talk to me,” You urged again. “Please?”

“You should’ve let me go to voicemail.”

“I said talk, not argue.”

“Now who’s arguing?”

You smiled, letting your eyes close.

“‘M not arguing. Making a point isn’t arguing.”

“It is when you use that tone.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

His reassurance made you melt into the mattress a little more.

“Good,” You mumbled. “I was afraid you weren’t.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Now you’re arguing again,” He chuckled. “You always this combative when you wake up?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“…Yeah, I would.”

For a moment, you were certain you imagined him saying it, or that you’d managed to mishear him in his hazy state.

“You could, you know,” You finally offered.

“Oh yeah? How would I do that?”

His voice was different than you were used to—low and soothing, and curled with a wink that you longed to see.

“How do you think?”

“Could always call you in the middle of the night again.”

You pushed a sleepy, ugly giggle, then slapped your hand over your mouth when you realized that the sound escaped you. Bradley laughed quietly on the other end.

“If that’s the route you wanna go, Bradshaw.”

“I am sorry,” He added. “I forgot what time it was over there.”

“S’okay, I don’t mind. I missed your voice.”

God, being tired made you far more loose-lipped than you typically were. You were already penciling in a reminder to be mortified about this conversation in the morning. But it was chased and erased by Bradley’s gentle,

“I missed yours, too.”

Your stomach squirmed at the sentiment, a goofy smile spreading across your face.

“Even when it sounds like I’ve been gargling gravel?” You teased.

“You don’t sound like that.”

It took you a few moments to answer. As badly as you wanted to stay awake, you could feel sleep sinking its claws into you, drawing you back down.

“No? Feels like I do.”

“You don’t. You might if you stay up talking to me, though.”

“Worth it,” You insisted. You didn’t know if he took longer to answer, or if it took longer to register with you. But his voice finally worked through:

“Go back to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Mmmkay,” You finally relented. “Get home safe, please.”

“I will.”

–

In the morning, you were far less embarrassed than you thought you would be. Sure, there were still things that you sort of wish that you hadn’t said, but they were clouded out by other things—like the way Bradley had reassured you that you didn’t sound like hell, and the fact that he’d missed your voice in the first place.

Still, all of those things were stomped out by one thing that you were almost certain had been a figment of your sleep-addled mind, something that you wanted desperately to be real, but would never bring yourself to ask Bradley about—

The sound of his warm, tender little murmur right before you’d drifted off entirely:

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

You spent the morning stewing over whether or not you’d really heard Bradley say that, or if you’d conjured it up. Maybe it was something that you simply wanted so badly that you had imagined it.

Your eyes kept darting to your phone during work, your heart leaping into your throat every time the screen lit up. It was usually some app alert. Every time you perked up at the sight of it only to be let down, you felt silly. It was another entire day of ebbing excitement and rising disappointment, raising your hopes for absolutely nothing. By the time you left your office, you’d exhausted yourself. You were being ridiculous. Sure, he’d said he’d see you soon, but that was probably relative to—

“Did you manage to fall back asleep? Or did you stop talking because you were bored with me?”

Your eyes widened, your mouth falling open at the sight of him outside your office building. You didn’t even think as you darted toward him, barrelling into him. Bradley took hold of you as though you hadn’t run into him with any force. He held firm, curling his arms around your shoulders as you clung to him. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes. He smoothed his hand over your back as you grappled with it all—the feel of him; the scent of his cologne and aftershave; the fact that you could see him, touch him, prove to yourself that he was okay.

When you finally managed to talk yourself into loosening your grasp, you drew back a little, your bashful embarrassment bubbling up and trying to overtake the joy that you felt. Bradley simply smiled, cupping your cheek in a way that made your heart sing.

“Hi there,” He murmured.

“Hi,” You laughed nervously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.”

“S’alright,” He shook his head. “I’m not complaining.”

“When you said you’d see me soon, I didn’t think you meant so soon.”

“I know. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.”

His thumb swept gently over the apple of your cheek, his smile pulling wide to match yours.

“When did you get back?” You asked.

“Couple of hours ago.”

And he was there, with you? Your fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt.

“Aren’t you tired?”

“A little.”

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“What do you want?”

Bradley’s tongue swept across his lips, his eyes skimming your face for a moment. Then, seeming to rethink something, he shrugged.

“Whatever you’ve got.”

–

Technically you didn’t have much, but Bradley didn’t gripe about ordering in pizza. Hell, when you suggested it, he let out a groan that rattled right through you before emphatically agreeing:

“Fuck yes. Please.”

The way he said it stuck with you for entirely the wrong reason, and you found yourself almost studiously perusing a delivery app for the best option to keep him from clocking your aroused embarrassment. You didn’t have a dining room table, so the two of you wound up eating side by side, close, with some nonsense tv show that neither of you were really paying attention to playing in the background. When you asked about how it had gone, as delicately as possible, he shrugged.

“I won’t pretend it was the worst mission I’ve ever flown,” He said. “But I’m going to pretend that it was the best, either.”

He didn’t go into specifics, but that was alright. You still weren’t quite certain that you wanted him to. The less you knew, the better. Besides, it didn’t matter, anyway. He was there, safe, with you.

“Well,” You leaned back, on your couch, dusting the crumbs off of your fingers. “I’m glad it worked out.” “Mm,” He nodded, pushing his plate away before he looked around. You raised your brows as he lowered his hand to the cushions, giving them a squeeze.

“So,” He smiled, “This where you usually call me from?”

“Usually.”

“Even last night?”

“Last night was a bit of an exception. I think we both know that.”

“Where were you?”

You nodded toward the hall. “My room. That’s where I gargle gravel.”

“I told you you didn’t sound bad,” Bradley laughed.

“Yeah, you did, and I still don’t believe you.”

Bradley shook his head a little. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hand sliding across the cushion, a little closer to you.

“You sounded good,” He insisted.

“Good might be stretching it.”

“Good’s the tip of the iceberg.”

Your tummy fluttered at the feeling of his fingertips tenderly skating over the back of your hand. Your fingers wriggled, like it would entice him to touch you more—like if you didn’t move, didn’t react, he’d pull away or stop. Bradley lowered his gaze to your hands, and your breath caught in your throat as you felt him gently turn yours, his calloused fingertips skating across your palm.

“…Bradley?”

“Mhm?”

“This may be an incredibly dumb question—”

“Doubt it.”

“Wh—” You laughed nervously before you could finish the question. “Why did you…I mean, you just got back. Why’d you come see me?”

“Because I missed you.” He took hold of your hand, his thumb sweeping along the side. “I needed to see you.”

The word makes your pulse quicken, and you blink a few times to try and clear your swimming head.

“…Needed?” You repeated dazedly. Bradley nodded, lifting his head to meet your eye.

“Needed, sweetheart.”

The way he said it was so soft, and warm, and so perfectly familiar that you could’ve cried. But Bradley was already cradling your cheek, already drawing you close and leaning in to meet you halfway. You raised your other hand, cupping the side of his neck as your lips met for the first time. Your eyes closed as you savored the tender slip and press of his kiss. The mustache was a little bristly, but hardly as intrusive as you thought it may be. The slight tickle of it made you smile.

Bradley drew back, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw before he pressed his face into your neck.

“Goddamn,” He mumbled, voice rumbling against your skin. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

“You have?” You asked, sliding your hand up into his hair.

“Longer than I should’ve been.”

You bit your lip, resting your head against his.

“If it makes you feel any better, so have I.”

He pressed a sweet kiss to the crook of your neck before sweeping his lips over your neck and jaw, up to your ear.

“It does.”

You shivered at the caress of his breath. You turned your head shyly, nuzzling the tip of his nose with yours before tipping your chin up, giving him another gentle kiss. Bradley sighed into you, his grip in your hand tightening as you shifted closer to him. You hummed softly as he leaned back, resting his forehead against yours, chasing his lips for another peck.

“Before I completely monopolize your time, is there anything else that you planned on doing tonight?” You asked. Bradley chuckled, shaking his head.

“I did want to do one thing.”

You tried not to let your disappointment show as you, just nodded.

“What’s that?”

“See how combative you are when you wake up.”

You grinned wide, raising your hand and curling it in his collar, drawing him closer.

“Just you wait, mister.”

Taglist: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce

#Bradley Bradshaw x Reader #Bradley Bradshaw x You #Bradley Bradshaw/Reader #Bradley Bradshaw/You #Bradley Bradshaw fic #Bradley Bradshaw imagine #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader #The Periphery

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safetycar-restart · 7 months

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KINKTOBER DAY 7: LONG TERM DENIAL [MARC MARQUES X READER]

NOTE: This is an NSFW fic with sub!marc and dom!reader. If this you're under 18 or not interested, then scroll past. Otherwise click read more and if you like it, maybe check out the rest of my blog!

This is part of a kinktober project where I post a different fic with a different motorsports athlete every day, the concept for each day will be discussed more on my blog so if you have any thoughts about it, feel free to stop by :))

It's no secret that Marc likes a challenge, and when he gets a reward he likes to feel like he's really worked for it. And he loves being set clear challenges and rules that he has to obey, and they must be difficult challenges too. He wants to really work for it.

And one such challenge is a game you like to play with marc where you randomly decide to not let him cum for a long period of time. He isnt allowed to touch himself without permission, has to send you pictures whenever you ask, has to edge himself whenever you tell him to, and only gets to cum when you decide he's allowed.

Often you'll do this when he has a few away races.

You overstimulate him on the day before he leaves, making him cum so much that he's crying and begging for mercy, completely wrung dry. Then, once he was recovered, you informed him that he wouldn't be cumming again until he was back home with you. He isnt allowed to cum throughout the entire away stretch of races.

He smiles, fully ready for the challenge. He thrives when he has something like this to focus on, tasks to do, challenges to overcome, something to think about. He likes the feeling he gets when he starts to become desperate and unsatisfied, likes that he's feeling it because he's obeying you.

So of course he agrees, and he does exactly as he's told.

He has to edge himself once every night, and send you a picture of his cock every time. Which he does of course, followed by a selfie because he wants to.

He doesn't ask if he can cum, doesn't even think about asking because you've told him when he'll be allowed to and he wouldn't dream of doing it earlier than that.

Sometimes you'll call him when he texts to say he's edging, ask him to tell you about his day while he strokes himself. It drives him insane, because you don't dirty talk or instruct him or anything, you just ask him about his day, about where he's been, about how the bike felt, etc, and he has to answer seriously and properly or else you'll add another edge to the total.

When he whimpers and stutters, you tell him he has to edge one more time, some nights going up to five edges before he finally manages to answer you properly.

And he loves it.

Even though he's frustrated and so so turned on, he also sleeps so well because he's been good and he's done as you asked and he knows he will deserve his reward when the time comes.

#kinktober tag #sub!marc #mm #nsfw.#gn!reader #marc marquez #marc marquez x reader #marc marquez imagine #motogp imagine #motogp x reader

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plump-lips-imagine · 4 months

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Wisteria And Monkey Fur (Journey to the West Au)

(Yes, it's demon slayer inspired. Don't look at me. Just read.This was plaguing my mind for a while.)

You walk along the lone path, your journey to nowhere starting again as the residents from the village you are leaving from,waving goodbye, sending you are on your way. Some had sad looks on their faces, some wore a look of gratefulness, some with worry, and a few even prayed as you left, hoping luck will always be with you.

You smile back at the villagers and waved back as you continue on your journey, gifts of food and clothing nicely set in your bag. You couldn’t stay long, as your work never allowed it.

Why, you may ask?

Well, Dear. It’s because you are a Demon Slayer.

You happened upon this Village when it was being terrorized by a Bear Demon. The smell of blood and distress still lingered on your nose when you first arrived. You came just in time before the Demon could eat any more innocent lives. Fighting it made you break a leg in the process but the villagers let you rest and recover for saving their lives and were then happy to aid you in the way they could. But after you were healed, they had to watch you go as you had more lives to protect on your journey.

You had already swore an oath to save and protect humans from demons, but there was a special mission you were currently on.

During the time that you were in recovery, you had a peculiar dream that felt too real to distinguish from reality.

The dream was peaceful. You felt calm and serene as you were supposedly sitting above the never ending pool of clear water as being on a Beautiful Lotus Plant sat across from you, beaming with light and radiance. It made the feeling of confusion or anxiety leave your body as you realized who it was. It was Guanyin, Bodhisattva of Mercy and Compassion.

As you bowed your head in respect, She smiled gently and told you she had a task for you to do. She requested that you aid her by helping a monk and his disciples to go West to retrieve sacred scrolls. She saw something in you that made you perfect for the job, and she promised a reward for helping her aid in such a voyage. A reward that you made you jump in the opportunity to become part of the Journey.

So here you were. Traveling to find the Pilgrims and aid in their Journey.

The Problem however was that you didn’t know exactly where to find them. Let alone catch up with them. Guanyin didn’t really give you clear instructions. She just smile and said:

‘Worry not, young one. The Path to them will not be hard.You will find them. Trust the Path you walk along.’

You heeded her words but still can’t fight the doubt in your mind. It’s not like you don’t trust her or anything, but-

“Where do I even start?” You ask yourself quietly. A few minutes quickly turn into a few hours and a few hours turn into a few days. The Search continues forth.

‘Am I doing this right? I probably should have asked for a hint before walking so aimlessly.’ Sweat trickled down your head as your mind began to race. ‘Now that I think about it. I don’t even know what to look for! I forgot to ask?! I can’t expect them to just appear out of nowhere and tell me everything I need to know?! Do they even know I’m coming!?’

Your body stopped as an aura of Gloom surrounds your body, eyes staring at the ground with a look of exasperation and comical dread. “I think I’m lost…Am I a moron?”

Nothing but the silence of the wind answers your question. A weak chuckle was all you could do.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a familiar scent. The air around you became repulsive , smelling of rotten meat and decay. It could only mean one thing. A demon was nearby.

You straighten yourself up and ready your blade. You run quickly and follow the scent, pulling your mask down to your face as you run into an unpredictable battle.

***

A certain Buddhist monk laid in a cave, tied up and bound as his eyes held distress for his current situation. He had been kidnapped while his disciples were distracted and the demons were eager to devour him to obtain the power of immortality. Cackles were heard in a different part of the dark cave as Tripitaka pondered if he would be saved in time.

He silently prays for his rescue, becoming more unaware of his surroundings. He didn’t even hear the footsteps of a swordsman coming to his rescue.

A shadow loomed over him, the light sudden change causing the monk to open his eyes. It was no demon, nor was it any of his colleagues to his rescue.

It was a human. Or at least he thinks they’re human. It was hard to tell because their face was covered up. He was staring at a mask that resembled that of a fox. It held a small painting of a blue lotus on its forehead, while the rest of the mask had a long scar-like shape run across it. The beaded eyes of the mask caused Tripitaka to flinch in place. This was not what he expected.

“H-”

The swordsman quickly held a hand up their mask, silently shushing him. They looked around and came closer to the monk. It made the monk both curious and afraid, not knowing this new person’s motive.

“Be still, and don’t say anything. I’m here to help. We must go before they come back.” They began to untie the knots that held tightly on the monk.The cool yet comforting voice of the stranger made Tripitaka ease up. As naive as it may be, he felt like he could trust this person.

Before the restraints could be undone, a spear suddenly came honing towards them. The Swordsman quickly picked the monk up in there arms and swiftly got the way as a crater was formed from the attack. The attack came from none other than the two giant demons that took shelter in the cave to eat the poor monk.

“What Lowly creature dares to take what is rightfully ours?” One Demon snarled. The Swordsman just stared at them while the monk stared wide-eyed at the large demons.

“I’m simply returning him to where he belongs. You will not be dining on anything tonight. Let us leave or I’ll have no choice but to kill you.” They State calmly to the Demons, as they began to howl with laughter at the claims of such a small human.

“As if a weak human girl could even lay a hand on us. Maybe you will make a nice pet. Or perhaps an even better appetizer.”

‘Girl?’ Tripitaka looks up at the masked woman in shock. More shock at the fact that not only had she carried him with such ease, but she also stood with confidence at the demons. Like a certain disciple of his.

“...Very Well. You Leave me no choice.” She placed the Monk down behind her and unsheathed her sword that was enveloped in black.

“Wait, MIss! This is absolutely dangerous. Are you absolutely sure you know what you’re doing?”

She didn’t look back at him, her eyes only focused on the demons that prepared their own spears at her. “Don’t worry. It’ll be Okay. Get to a safe distance and guard yourself.”

He did as he was told, but still stared at her with worry. But this worry soon turned into disbelief as one of demon attempted to Spear through her body, but the sharp weapon only met the ground as a blur was only seen as the the sickening sound of a swift slice through bone was heard, the hand of the demon that held the weapon now laid on the ground, separate from its host, blood splattered going everywhere. The demon screamed in pain, holding where it used to be its hand in pain, Anger flashed in his eyes as he raised a fist to the girl.

“You BITCH!!” He punched at the ground where she stood, But she was faster. She went up the arm of the giant demon and raised her sword. She took a Deep Breath.

“Water Breathing:First Form…” Water began to form from the sword. The black blade now engulfed in the waves, ready to hit its target. “Water Surface Slash!”

The Blade hits its target's neck, swiftly decapitating the demon in one slash, ending its life. His body goes down with a sickening thud, the ground jumping up at the impact.

The monk watched in pure disbelief from a distance. No thoughts were able to form at the scene before him.

A low growl broke his trance as the other demon loomed over her. Violence feeling their eyes as their boy began to morph. Two more arms formed from the body, as more weapons appeared in the demon's hands.

“I should’ve known that a demon slayer appeared before us. You insolent human!! I will avenge my brother and tear the skin from your body!!” Flurries of Spears of swords came down your way, the demon making more weapons appear as you swiftly leaped out of harm's way, imitating that of a dance, moving as swift as the waves of shore. But the weapons did not stop coming even as you danced away from the attacks. Sweat began to form as on your brown as the attacks didn’t let up. A spear grazed your arm, blood began to seep out of the Haori uniform. Tripitaka's body filled with panic at the injury while the demon held a wicked grin on its face

“This is your end. I’ll mount that fox mask as a trophy!”

You said nothing as your breath became still. The thread became clear as everything felt still. Water formed around you, your blade raised up.

“Water breathing.Third Form: Flowing Dance.” A flurry of water began to form as the water around the demon became ribbon liked. The flow of water dances beautifully, that demon distracted by graceful flow. The Demon couldn’t react fast as you not only chopped off the 4 arms it bared, but also the head on its body. Its eyes widened at how sudden it was defeated, its body disintegrating alongside its brother. With its vision blurry, it saw how the demon slayer came to its body slowly before it stopped at its head. With its last strength in its body, it could only glare at her, thinking that the girl came to gloat and stand in triumph over it.

The Demon slayer only lifted the mask of its face and the demon could see what they truly looked like. There was a deep scar that ran across the girl’s face .The slayer's eyes held that of gloom for the demon as compassion was shone in their eyes. The demon slayer then brought their hand to the temple of its head and closed their eyes, kneeling in front of it. As the head was the last to disintegrate, it heard the words of the demon slayer, in such a soft spoken way.

“Whoever hears me, Please let them be reborn as humans in their next life.” A silent prayer for the demon is heard. Before the head disintegrated into nothing, its eyes let out a few tears before disappearing.

The Monk that stared at the Slayer could only stare as he was mixed with bewilderment and relief. He was saved, and it was thanks to the compassion and bravery of the swordsman.

When She made her way to him, she swiftly cut the ropes of his body, freeing him finally, his silk and fancy monk robe became more visible to her as he shone brightly.

***

“Thank You Miss! I'm forever grateful. You have saved my life.” The Monk before you smiled warmly at you, making you fidget in place. The mask you wore wasn’t on your face and you honestly felt a little embarrassed by this praise. It did swell your heart with joy, but when your face was exposed, it made you feel a bit…vulnerable.

“It-it’s no problem,really. I’m just doing my job.” You cleared your voice to save face. “Now, Are you alright, Sir? Any Scars that were cast upon you? Do you know where your home is? I’ll make Sure to bring you there.”

“No, Miss. I am fine, really. You saved me just in time.” The monk answered you frantically, surprised by the sudden questions heading towards him. “If I am to be honest with you, I am more worried about you.That Demon seems to have gotten you on your arm? Are you going to be okay?” He says looking worried at you, the large gash on your arm still oozing blood. But you thought nothing of it.

“Trust me, I’ll be fine. I’ll be better once we get you out of here.” You said matter of factly. You then promptly carried Tripitaka in your arms again, surprising him.

“Wait, Miss. I can walk. There’s no need to-”

“I know but I’m not taking any chances. There’s no telling if there’s another demon ahead. Besides, It’ll be quicker this way. Trust me.”

The Monk could only look at you confused.

“How will it be faster for you,Miss?” If anything, it would most likely be sower this way, especially at such high altitudes in the mountains.

You pull down your mask and walk towards the entrance of the cave.

“You’ll see, don’t worry. Just tell me the direction I need to go and I'll take you there.” Your voice went back to being cool as you stared forward at the open space of land.

Although doubt was still in him, Tripitaka compiled. “Well, I’m actually traveling towards the West, me and my disciples on journeying there. They are probably looking for me.”

“Got it.” There were mixtures of scents on the monk that were not his. But the one that stood out was that of a horse. If you were to get close enough, then you would find them.

“You may want to hold on tight. Trust me on this.” The monk did as he was told as you began to run. The speed that you were going already made the monk hold on tighter to your body. And you seemed to be getting even faster.

“Total Concentration…” You whispered to yourself. The legs go into inhuman speed. Water can be heard from behind as The monk could only hold on for dear life,The slayer leaving waves in her path.

***

We now follow three pilgrims as they travel to find their kidnapped master. A Monkey sage wears a look of frustration, A pig demon wears one of exhaustion, while a river demon wears one of worry.

As much as they have now gotten ‘used’ to their master being kidnapped, it still didn’t make it any less tedious. Especially for The Demon Monkey that always had to go rescue him.

“Unbelievable! Way to go,pig. You are the worst.Bodyguard.Ever!!” Wukong shouts at Zhu Bajie, while the Pig demon snorts at him with a gruff voice.

“Me!? Well maybe if you weren’t taking your sweet time gathering up food, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep! Some Great Sage!”

“I swear, once we find Baldy, I’m gonna-”

“Brothers, be calm!None of this will help us find Master anytime soon.”

The three continue until Monkey spotted something peculiar in his vision. He saw a figure traveling at full speed, if it was anyone else, they probably would have seen a blur, but his eye could see that it was a person, or perhaps thing: that was carrying their master in their arms a the Monk look petrified. The figure had a weird aura as their fox mask covered their face, and the clothes on their back was covered in blood.

It was hard to tell if it was a demon or not, but the Monkey knew only one thing. His Master was in trouble. This gave him enough reason to pull his staff out of his ear.

***

You could smell the fear of the monk that you were currently holding. But you couldn’t really blame him as you were going at max speed.

‘Maybe I should try to slow down a bit. Regular people aren't used to these movements. Plus,the scent is getting Heavier. That must mean I’m near. Hopefully they’ll be able to spot-’

You abruptly stop your train of thought, stopped in your tracks while holding the monk tightly as you jump back. A heavy thud is heard as staff meets ground, leaving behind a giant grater as the ground shakes at the impact. Only rubble hit you as you stared at the monk that began to cough at the debris.

“Are you alright,Sir?”

“I’m fine, but-”

“Unhand my Master, Stranger!”

You look up at the sky and you see what appears to be a Monkey. Well, more of a humanoid version of one as it wore a silk robe and a tiger kilt. His red and golden eyes pierced at you, coming closer to you as you gave the monk you were holding a look.

“Is this one of your disciples?”

“Yes, he is.” He gave an apologetic look before he yelled up at the Monkey. “ What, Wukong! This is just a misunderstanding. They actually-”

You set the Monk back down as you jump again to get away as The Sage saw an opportunity to strike you.

“Stand Still, demon!”

You only moved away as a flurry of attacks came your way. You couldn’t attack him like you would usually as this was a disciple of the monk. You had to think of a creative way to pacify him.

Tripitaka looks at the one sided battle between you and Wukong. He would have to do something. He quietly began to chant quietly as the circlet that was around Sun Wukong's head began to tighten, but it was only enough force to make him stop to grab his head in pain.

You saw the opening and took off your mask. You jumped up at him, Sun wukong saw your face and raised his eyebrow confused.

‘A Human Girl?’

“Calm.DOWN!!”

Without Warning, you take your head and bash it against the Demon Monkey. The Impact is loud as the thud is heard between the collision that happened. A Small Crack was Heard but there was no telling who’s skull it came from as both of you jumped back.

…

Both of you only stared at each other, making it a pseudo showdown. The rest of the pilgrims stare in disbelief at the display, expecting you to fall, but it looks like a close one. Blood began to seep out of both of your heads, the look of discomfort present in both your bodies. However, your eyes roll in the back of your head as you fall down, getting knocked unconscious.

The Monkey King wanted to grin in triumph, but as his vision blurred, he too also went down not long after, getting knocked unconscious as well.

The Group could only see the two. Nothing was said at the display that was just shown on them, while they laid unconscious on the ground.

***

“Ah! So you’re the legendary monk on the Journey To The West! Tripitaka, was it?” You asked with looks of wonder in your eyes.

It was nightfall and they had set up camp. Sun Wukong and the girl were bandaged up as the group settled down. The former had a peeved look on his face, glaring at the girl that caused the bump to form on his head, while the former held a look of amazement at the group, not caring about her current condition.

“That’s right, Miss. We’re on a journey to pick up some sacred scrolls and bring them back to the East. It…Hasn’t been an easy journey as you can see.” He sighed, taken aback at how so much has happened in one day.

You nod your head at his words. “Doesn’t look like it. Such an Important task seems like such a great feat. Doesn't it help that you seem to attract demons…also traveling with them?” You tilt your head in confusion.

Tripitaka smiled sheepishly. Yes, to normal bystanders, it would be questionable to have such strange company around him. It was always a chore to explain to people.

“Do not worry ,Miss. They will not harm any human in their path. They are also monks on this journey too.”

You stare for a moment before smiling at him too. “Well, if they're with you, then I suppose you're right!”

It felt right to trust the monk. Now that you think about it, It was easy to talk with him. Something about him and his crew made the gears in your head turn as you felt you were forgetting something.

Something…important..

You get up from your sitting position.

“You're the ones Guanyin Wanted me to find!” You pointed at the group that shared the same face of bewilderment as you pointed at the group. Wukong squinted his eyes at you, itching to grab his stuff if you pulled any funny business.

“Guanyin?”

“You know, Calming presence, Lotus Flower, Bodhisattva of Mercy and compassion-”

“Yes, I know her. But, She has also talked to you as well?”

“Well, it’s more like she appeared in my dreams. She asked me to aid you in your journey and help you get to your goal! No wonder he didn’t tell me where you would be, you were already on my path this entire time!”

‘I can’t believe I almost forgot such important information.’ You silently scream at how useless your brain could be some time but still save face.

You cough in your sleeve and straighten up to bow at the Group.

“Let me formally introduce myself. I am (Y/N) (L/N). I am happy to help you on your journey.”

The group gave each other looks that were hard to read. This was much more interesting than they thought.

(I typed this out for a two days. lol. I decided to enter this monkey hell in my own creative way. I thought it would be interesting if the reader knew how to fight. And I love demon slayer so...yeah.)

#jttw sun wukong #jttw #jttw x reader #sun wukong x reader #journey to the west #journey to the west au #jttw au #yes I made you a fucking gonpachiro kamaboko #I just think he's neat #i am cringe but i am free #Pls interact and comment I like interacting with yall

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el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle · 2 months

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I just finished watching Betty and finding your blog is godsend I love love all your Armando character analysis and all the armetty content, not only that but all the insight you have about the rest of the cast. One of the things I noticed while I was watching was that, Marcela and Armando absolutely don't like each other at ALL, even in recent episodes you can see how Marcela just barely tolerates Armando snsjdjfjjdj.

I find this so funny because certain parts of the fandom consider Betty a homewrecker?? There was never a home to wreck?? I mean all characters are morally grey but if we see Marcela in despair in later episodes I don't think it was out of heartbreak like Armando for Betty. I was wondering what you think about what Marcela felt for Armando and their relationship in general.

Once again I love scrolling through your blog and I also think Armando and Betty were the most logical endgame, they made each other worse they made each other better literally soulmates.

[sorry for the long question, I have these two in the brain]

Awww thank you!!! I'm glad you are enjoying my blog🥰

Oh, no, not the homewreaking thing! Even Armando says it once: "no one can steal me if I don't let myself be stolen". The novela made it so clear that it was a choice that ARMANDO made, and somehow my girlie Betty gets all the blame, as if we all didn't see ARMANDO pursuing her and begging her not to leave him all the time. Sure, Betty should have said NO, it IS morally wrong what she did, but Armando himself says that he wanted to leave Marcela for himself, not for Betty. We all know that, if Armando and Marcela had married, regardless of whether Betty or any other woman had appeared in their lives, they would have ended up divorcing. Some people simply have a super skewed perception and think that just because Armando and Marcela had an active sex life at the beginning of the show and that sometimes you got to see them happy, their relationship was fine. It wasn't, it never was. Armando was always cheating and Marcela was always spying and tracking his moves. There was no love, commitment, sincerity, or selflessness. It was all conditional. There was simply no home to wreak, like you say!

I definitely agree that Marcela and Armando don't like each other at all. They aren't compatible in any sense. They had fights for even the most mudane things, like what to do on a friday night or one of Armando's nightmares.

Marcela was not in love with Armando. She never was, or at the very least, not in any moment that we see her onscreen. Perhaps she was in the past, but from all we've seen, Marcela is mostly in love with the idea of Armando and is constantly angry and frustrated because he isn't what she pictures. She is mostly just obsessed with this idea she has of him. She wants to marry Armando but not really marry him like he is. We've seen she doesn't like his temper, his ego, his treatment of her, his interests, the people he gets along with, etc. I can't think of a single thing they like to do together or have in common except their high sex drive. She doesn't like anything about Armando's personality.

Armando and Marcela unfortunately share a very deep and old relationship, and I'm not talking about their romantic one. They're tied like a family. Margarita and Roberto are, in Marcela's eyes, practically her parents. Marcela herself says that all of the Mendoza and Valencia children were raised like siblings. This creates a very unfortunate dynamic in which no one really understands their place. Marcela and Armando are both like step siblings and also a couple, which, honestly, doesn't seem psychologically right. I can't really say, but I'm willing to bet this has to be bad for a person's development and view on relationships.

On top of that, Margarita says that it was Julio and Susana's dream to see Marcela and Armando marry. Both Margarita and Roberto make it very clear that they also want that relationship. Marcela and Armando are constantly encouraged to ignore all the obvious clues that the relationship is disastrous (like how Margarita tells Marcela she needs to be patient and wait for Armando to calm down and stop cheating, or how Roberto says they would never forgive Armando if he were to cancel the wedding). They are practically being encouraged by their parents (Roberto and Margarita, biological parents for Armando and practically adoptive parents for Marcela) to continue their relationship. In Marcela's case, she is unconsciously trying to fulfill her bio parents' last dream and also her new parents' hopes.

((This is speculation, but I'm also willing to bet that Marcela and Armando probably hesrd a lot of insinuations of them eventually becoming a couple since very young. I can't confirm that, but I wouldn't be surprised of this at all.))

So Marcela basically develops an obsession with having Armando. She doesn't love him, because she doesn't like anything that he is. She just has this idea that has probably been ingrained in her head throughout her life that they belong together, and if she clings to that relationship, it will eventually become as beautiful and amazing as her parents (all 4 of them) thought it would.

Additionally, having Armando is a prize. It's, in her eyes, her deserved prize after such a long time "fighting" for him. For having tolerated his lies and cheating, for getting all of his lovers away. Armando is not a partner for her, he's her reward. She sees herself as a martyr who desrves to earn him.

When the relationship breaks she is in dispair because she genuinely wanted a future with him, but not out of love but rather out of ego and obsession. Out of a desire to say "after all of this I finally won", which is why she is willing to take him back all the time even when it's obvious he can't stand her, there is no trust, and there is no love. They just cling to each other because of all the wrong reasons: ego, conformity, their parents, the business, expectations, etc. But not love. We never saw love.

It's an overall sad situation for both of them, which is why I genuinely pity both of them in this aspect even if they were both, objectively speaking, big POS to each other!

Thank you for this lovely ask! Sorry for the long reponse too😂🥰

#ysblf #yo soy betty la fea #betty la fea #armando mendoza #beatriz pinzon solano #beatriz pinzón solano #marcela valencia #armando ysblf #betty ysblf

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underscorecareless · 2 months

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The more I venture in modding Minecraft and attempt to distill some sort of essence from the vanilla experience-

The more I sympathize with Mojang and their unenviable task to protect what is conceptually 'Minecraft'

Everyone seems to have this narrowly defined view of its gameplay and what it means to them.

But, when you compare these experiences, theres barely any consistency, other than the implicit...

Minecraft is a block game.

One where your creativity and willingness decide its almost limitless potential

That being said, there are some fairly common connections-

World building and art

Adventure, combat, and questing

Redstone? I'll be honest, I still don't understand this stuff, I just learned about quasi connectivity x.x

Modding and 3rd party stuff

And, of course the community- sharing and networking, either in friendship or anarchy

I think the impression that Minecraft has, or ever had, a singular, true identity is a falsehood or a dream. I don't think Notch or Jeb or anyone else at Mojang and Microsoft necessarily ever had or has a clear definition of what Minecraft "should" be.

That isn't it to discount Mojangs discretion and professed design principles- most of which I can agree with, although there are some, Im sure, we all find questionable.

Things like Minecrafts commitment to cross platform synchronicity, ethical considerations for wildlife, and charmingly simplistic graphics help define what it is today.

It's really unassuming how much effort must go in to making sure each new addition fits in!

Like, have you ever seen a video or picture of Minecraft and something is subtely (or many times not so subtely) betraying that its modded? Whether it be the textures or models- its really rare that a mod pack manages to develop an aesthetic that can blend in.

Appearances aside, its even rarer that the content actually feels like something that minecraft could invent.

Anyways, all this is to say-

I dont think there is only one dimension to Minecraft and its name. Future updates will bring with them curious changes and I can only hope Mojang sustains the love and heart so many of us have felt in playing.

As for myself, I am reviewing community commentary and compiling the best parts of various modpacks for my inspiration.

I want to add a lot of decorative and useful blocks to fill in the void of Minecrafts vanilla pallete. For example...

Stained tinted glass

Chain linked minecarts

Tiled and chiseled brick variants

Lattices that can have plants inserted

Bookshelf, barrel, cabinet, and drawer variants

Tons of other stuff I can't wait to mention

My aim, in a lot of ways, is to provide more nuanced expression of already existing gameplay mechanics and reduce stress in general. I want more time spent adventuring and campaigning- mining, fighting, building, and conquesting.

To be honest, I have barely highlighted the scope of my ambitions. I will be making another post in the future further detailing them.

As always, if you've read this or are just scrolling by- I hope your day is lovely and your night is met with a well earned resting.

Thank you, please take care of yourself, and perhaps consider following along in my efforts :P

#modded minecraft #minecraft mods #minecraft java #minecraft #modded mc #modding #gamedev #curseforge #mojang #Mc #Mcje #java edition minecraft #talking #random #lgbtq #lgbtqia

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russosafehaven · 1 year

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The Roots of Family

Pairing: Billy Russo x Fem!Reader

Content: Fluff for once in my life, Billy’s Mummy issues, Billy’s trauma, Mentions of wanting kids, Buncha fluff and comfort to make up for Setbacks really, Soft!Reader, Soft!Billy, Readers race is ambiguous but some parts are based on things I know about my family tree (Primarily names and the fact that they’re from the UK + Switzerland) other than that reader can pretty much be any race.

POV: Second

BR Taglist: @snowkestrel @judig92 @k-marzolf

For hours you’d been perched on the arm rest of the couch digging through your family tree. When Billy got home and saw you his only question was why can’t you sit normally? There’s plenty of couch and yet you choose the arm rest. Suppose that’s what he signed up for when he let you move in.

“Hey baby, what are you doing?”

As you whipped your head up to look at him your glasses almost came flying off. Billy reached out a hand, adjusting them for you. The tips of his fingers lingered a little more. Ghosting the outline of your face.

“I visited my mama today and I finally got my hands on the family tree stuff. May or may not have been doing it all day”

A smile spread across your face. You were so full of light and love. Eager to learn whatever you could and it made Billy ache for more. Where were you when he was a kid? When he was alone and needed a family why couldn’t he have had you then? He would’ve settled either way. Many days Billy had listened to rambling from you about wanting to learn more about where you came from. Having a family that was raised in Australia it left you having a lot of questions.

He took a seat next to you, picking up a folder you had sprawled out. There were a few names you had underline, two that caught his eye were Daisy May Nott and Laurentia Lovelace. Next to the names was some messy hand writing that read “potential baby names for a little ray of moonlight”. Slowly panic began to rise up in him. You’d never mentioned wanting kids before and he assumed you were both on the same page.

“What’s uh- what’s this?”

Billy showed you what he was referring to and your face heated up. Truth is you weren’t sure you ever wanted kids. Having a rough childhood with little to no parental support your worst fear was becoming your parents. On the other hand it’d be a lie if you said you hadn’t fantasised about it.

“I just liked the names, thought that if I ever had kids it’d be a sweet way to honour my ancestors. Why?”

It was close enough to the truth and Billy seemed to believe you. Except for the fact where he didn’t. You had gone back to typing away on your laptop, scrolling through hundreds of names and lining documents up all over the place.

“Do you want kids?”

The question was a loaded weapon and it was an ambush. Shifting uncomfortably you processed Billy’s question.

“I’m not sure. I mean most little girls always fantasise about having kids of their own. To tell you the truth I’ve never wanted kids, by the age of ten I was so hurt by my own parents I never wanted to be a repeat. On the other side I’d be lying if I told you I hadn’t dreamed about having some of my own running around some day”

Both of you were tense and that much was obvious.

“I’ve never wanted kids, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to give you that if it is something you want”

Your heart aches for Billy. He’d told you about his mother abandoning him, loving meth more than her own flesh. It was part of the reason you never brought kids up.

“Billy… it isn’t a dealbreaker for me. If you don’t want kids we won’t have them. I want you either way”

He nodded, Billy didn’t believe you and you didn’t have to be intelligent to see as much. The moment Billy had decided he wanted you strings attached was already a huge step for him. Having you live in his apartment was another leap of faith. He wanted you to have the life you deserved and if you wanted kids he’d let you go.

“I… can I have some time to think about it? I mean I’ve always been clear that I never wanted kids, but I also never wanted to settle down yet here I am. I’d make you my wife right here and now if I could”

His words made you smile. Billy never had a family, he didn’t have the ability to learn about his ancestry like you didn’t. You reached a hand out, placing it on his knee. As you pressed a kiss to his lips you slid the laptop onto his lap. Pulling back he looked down at the screen. Next to your name was his own, a little label underneath reading ‘Husband’.

“I want you William Russo, in sickness and in health. With all that I have and all that I am. Till death comes to part us and even then I shall not leave your side”

#billy russo #billy russo imagine #billy russo x reader #ben barnes #the punisher imagine #the punisher #x reader #billy russo fluff

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daemonoferror · 1 year

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Asgard's Bard- Part 1

Heimdall x gn! Reader

TW: Death, pain, blood, heimdall glaring at you being your only interaction.

Summary: Congrats! You died. And you got a promotion.

---

The last you remember, a sense of true powerlessness fell over you, before a sharp, stinging pain rippled through your back. The world came to a halt, and your vision goes black.

What feels like only a moment later, your eyes snap open and you suck in a deep breath, like a drowned man taking in air for the first time in months. The pain in your back is replaced by an almost unbearable soreness, helped tremendously by the soft bed below you. You lay completely still, every bone in your body frozen, muscles tense in a state of flight or fight. Where are you? You don't recongize this bedroom. You rack your brain for an explanation that won't come, until a voice interrupts.

"Ah, you're back. Good." Too quickly, you sit up in bed, your back protesting. In the doorway of the room is a man. He's old with grey hair and an eyepatch. He's familiar, you think. From portraits and statues, but you don't want to make assumptions, and his build looks smaller- frailer than you imagined. "You have talent, it would've been a shame to lose something like this so soon." He brings your attention to a worn leather journal he was reading. Your journal. Your most valued possession, in the hands of someone else. Before you can act on the new found panic, the man chuckles and tosses the book to you. The short lived fear evaporates and you flip through it to make sure nothing was messed with.

"What's going on? Where am I?" You ask with shakey breath, looking back up at the man.

He shrugs, "Well, you died." He answers in a matter-of-fact tone. "But I brought you back. You're welcome."

"But... how?" The words don't settle as they should. You're too tired, too stunned to really understand. What does resonate is that the power the man possess if he's telling the truth comfirms your earlier suspicion is correct, "All-Father?"

"Yes, that is what they call me." The god says with a smile. It must be obvious after a short silence that you're not in a clear state of mind, so he continues, "Look, I know it's a lot to take in. Not every day you're brought back to life and meet a god, eh? Why don't you take some time. There's a water basin to wash your face, and a wardrobe full of clean clothes. Nicer than anything ya got in midgard, I promise. Once you're ready, come talk to me in my study. Just down the stairs, you can't miss it. Sound good?" You respond with a small nod. Being in the presence of a god has rendered you speechless, it seems. He claps his hands together, "Good" he hums, and walks away from the room.

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. You're really in Asgard. You just met a god. It seemed unbelievable, more likea dream than reality. At any moment you could wake up back in Midgard, in some rundown tavern with a pissed-off barkeeper tending to you because you drank too much. That sounds far more realistic than any of this. With a pained groan you slowly drop your legs off the side of the bed and stand up. You stretch as much as you can bare, slightly relieving your injured back. If this is a dream, this pain could've fooled you.

You have in mind to head to the wardrobe, but you pause to take the rest of the room . It's small, but you don't figure you'd need a big space. On the wall by the door, there's an array of instruments lined up, mostly string instruments you're familiar with, like a tagelharpa and rebec. A flute laid ontop of an overturned crate- which there were a lot of in the room, making it seem only half decorated. Some drums sat on the floor, though you had never played them as much as a lyre, which was the only instrument you couldn't be seen anywhere in the room. There's a desk pushed up against the wall opposite of the instruments, with a blank scroll open on it, and a crate full of more on the floor nearby. It's odd how the room seems almost designed for you.

You make your way to the wardrobe at the end of the room, in the middie of the wall. Throwing open the doors, you're met with an array of tunics, cloaks, fur coats, belts, gold jewelry, and more. You peel off your brown tunic, shoulders aching as your arms raise to lift it over your head. "What in Hel!" You yell, dropping the garment and stepping away. The entire back of the shirt is drenched in dark red, old blood. You reach behind you, clawing at what you can reach for an injury, or blood, or a scab. Besides the soreness you're already accustomed with, there's no other evidence of a wound. Odin's words repeat- you died. "How could I have-" your voice fades out. You died. You hear it in All-Father's nonchalant tone, and you feel like you're hearing it- actually understanding it for the first time. Things don't feel like a dream anymore, not even a nightmare. All at once everything feels too real. Your breath quickens, you sink to the floor and clutch your heart. Does it even beat anymore? Are you really alive? What does it mean to be brought back to life? You grapple with hundreds of questions, your mind spiraling.

Soon you remember the basin, and all you can think is how good the cold water would feel on your skin. You scramble to it and splash your face with water. It's refreshing and grounding, helps remind you to breathe. You stare into your reflection, hands on either side of the basin supporting your weight as you lean over it.

There's some small scars litter your face and upper neck, nothing bigger than a nick or a cat scratch, and they're hardily noticeable. The same scars are scattered across your hands too, if you look closely. You're relieved to see you don't look bad. Your skin isn't a different color, your eyes are the same. The scars are the only new addition. You don't remember how you got them, though. If you think about it, you realize you can't remember much of the weeks leading up to now. Maybe even months of your memory are gone. You know the important things- your name, your home, family and friends. You know you traveled a lot, reciting poetry and playing music anywhere that would pay you. But besides that blurry flash of pain, you can't remember much.

You stand up again and return to the dresser. The All-Father has requested to meet with you, and it's not something to take lightly. You know he would have an explanation and answers to your questions. You need to keep composure and stay focused to speak with him. You slip on a simple white tunic and pants- as simple as clothes get in Asgard, anyways, each garment adorned with golden embroidery. The clothes fit perfectly, and you try not to wonder how or why.

You shake off the nerves one last time before pushing open the door. Even though the lodge looks homey, it still makes you feel small. You're glad the hall is empty, keeping your focus on getting to the study without distractions. At the bottom of the stairs, the door is ajar, and you can hear Odin talking to someone inside. You knock on the door, with no response. You decided against waiting outside, anxious to get answers to your death and resurrection, and figuring if it were something important they could've shut the door properly. So you slip in, and await patiently by the entrance.

There's a man talking to Odin. You try not to eavesdrop but you pick up bits about an object Odin wants the man to get, and the man being reluctant to do so though he doesn't out right refuse. His dialect sounds much more sophisticated than most you meet, even Odin. He's facing away from you, but you still draw inspiration from his beauty. His golden hair woven in neat braids, the confidence in his posture, and the wit in his voice. You come to a simple conclusion that he seems nice, and would be a good subject for a poem.

Odin seems quickly annoyed with the boy though, and his expression brightens when he sees you. "Ah! There's my poet!" He stands from his desk, raising his arms to gesture to you. "Come in, please! Heimdall, you're dismissed, we'll continue this discussion later." He lowers his voice to address the man.

"But All-Father, I-" Heimdall starts, cut off by Odin, louder this time.

"Dismissed!" Heimdall doesn't protest this time, but it's clear he wants to. He turns on his heels and starts towards the door, his gaze locking with your's as he leaves. Even though he was clearly glaring at you with an unparalleled hatred, your mind sparks with analogies for the prettiest eyes you've ever witnessed. Like shimmering amythests in an otherwise baren cave.

"Ignore him. He doesn't do well with strangers." Odin says with an eyeroll, "he sees things for me, ya know." He mentions like a bad pun you're supposed to understand. Heimdall is familiar, though. You've heard stories of him- the keeper of Ghallerhorn and a protector of Asgard- but you never imagined he'd be like that. "Come, sit! We've got losts to talk about. You've had an eventful day afterall." You listen to All-Father, walking up to the desk and taking a seat. "I'm sure you've got questions. Hit me!" All-Father says confidently, and the way he talks both perplexes and comforts you. He acts too casual to be a god.

There's no better way to phrase it, you think after a moment of quiet as you try. "Am I really dead?" You finally ask.

The AllFather answers, "Don't sound so sad about it. You've been resurrected! A new lease on life." He tacks on, "And I assure you, there's no long lasting side effects. Some scars, yeah, and I'm sure you've noticed some soreness, but that'll heal as normal. Probably." All-Father thinks for a minute before adding, "Though immortality can be considered a side effect, I suppose I should mention that." He sounds like he's bragging to you. You've accepted a great offer, it sounds. Too bad you weren't conscious during the decision making.

"Immortality?" You repeat. It's so hard to speak to Odin. You would've expected his mannerisms to be so much different than he acts. He seems eccentric, he could talk to himself for hours if he wanted. He knows what people want to hear- or at least tries to guess- staying in a constant neutral zone so he appears likeable to a wider audience.

"Yeah, well. We all die someday." Odin says with a sigh and a shrug, "What's a few extra years, huh?" He chuckles, you force a smile. He must do this kind of thing often. It's strange to have someone so postive and confident in front of you while you're so uneasy about it all.

"May I ask, why did you bring me back?" You decide to ask, shifting in your chair. You trusted All-Father to do what's best for everyone- but you couldn't see how revising you could affect anyone but yourself.

"I heard of you. A talented poet and musician from Midgard, some even described you as a god. I wanted to see it for myself. I thought it was a real shame when I heard of your passing." Allfather explains with a shrug. While you knew people enjoyed your works- nothing could match the honor you felt walking into a tavern and hearing someone recite one of your poems- but you had never heard anyone refer to you as a god. You didn't think you were worthy of that title at all. The All-Father slowly stands up, and starts to pace behind the desk. "And I figured, entertainment is an important part of any society, wouldn't you think? Well Asgard may be lacking in that department. Fighting, training, drinking, and so on can only be fun for so long." He turns back and raises a hand to you. "Someone with your talent could really lighten up the place. I was hoping, maybe, you'd be interested in being a bard- the bard- of Asgard."

"What?" Was all you could say, completely stunned. You were a starving artist in midgard, no where near being Asgard matieral. You wondered if maybe during the gap in your memory you had improved drastically- if the height of your poetic talent died when you did.

"Well, it's just like you did in Midgard. Write your poems, sing your songs- inspire the people of Asgard. Though you might have to pander to your audience a bit, write about the gods, maybe help me with a few studies-" He nearly mumbles it, glossing over things that might be unsavory for you. He continues, "In return you can live here in the lodge." He shrugs, "I could pay you, but money won't have much value while you're here." He chuckles.

"And if I refuse?" You ask. You didn't think you could. You knew you couldn't. This just felt too good to be true. Odin resurrected the wrong poet or something. But you didn't think All-Father was capable of making such mistakes, was he?

"Then you can go back to Midgard and do whatever is you want to do there." Odin dismissively waves a hand at you. His tone is somewhere between indifference and disappointment. "Though I can't see much there for you now." He says it like it's a jab at you. You suppose he's right. Midgard is no place to live right now. Your job barely made ends meet no matter how good you were. And what would your friends and family think of all this? Did they know you died?

Even if you don't feel worthy, the cushy lifestyle is something that's impossible to give up once it's offered. You nod sagely and stand up, outstretching an arm to Odin. "Yeah. I accept." You smile softly and nervously.

Odin's mood is instantly lifted as he shakes your forearm, "Wonderful!" He laughs and walks around the desk to you. "Say, why don't I bring you on a tour of Asgard, show you around?"

"That'd be great." You say, following him to the door. You'd hate to get lost in the new realm, and you're eager to see what inspiration you can pull from Asgard. A series of panicked squawks From behind startles you and makes you jump. One of Odin's ravens sits on a wooden stand nearby, flapping its wings. You glare at the creature, and All-Father seems equally annoyed.

"Huginn, what have I told you about sneaking up on me like that!" The bird answers with more squawks, "What? What do you want! What is it you blasted bird!" Odin huffs in annoyance, seemingly letting the bird talk for a while, "Uh huh. Uh huh. I understand." He says half heartedly, and you wonder if he actually understands what it's saying or is just responding to comfort the animal. "Yes, I get it. I said I know!" He turns back to you with a heavy sigh, "I'm truly sorry, something's just come up that I gotta sort out."

"I understand. I can wait for you to get back-" You suggest, though you really don't want to, and would probably sneak off within minutes due to boredom anyways.

"No, no, I'm sure you'll make do on you're own. Explore a bit, make friends. Just don't wander to far alright? And try not to die again, eh?" Odin chuckles, though the words catch you off guard. You're almost offended by joke.

"Allfather, do you know how I died?" You blurt while you're on the subject, realizing you meant to ask earlier.

Odin hums and answers, "It's better not to think about thar, child." His tone is sympathetic, and with a sigh you realize he's probably right. Nothing would change by knowing. A flock of ravens surround Odin, and when they disappear, so does he.

You sigh and leave the room feeling defeated. You quickly find a room upstairs similar to a cafeteria. A few people are scattered around the long tables, talking, eating, and drinking. The murmurs are familiar to you, and you set your journal down at an empty corner of the table. You're used to writing in noisy taverns, but you don't feel like walking far and getting lost.

Your thoughts returned to Heimdall as you prepare to write. You know with your new position you'll have to write in a more formal structure soon, but for now you focus on scribbling down whatever comes to mind.

"He is crafted from wealth

His brilliant eyes were carved from shimmering amythests

And gifted to show one's truest intent

The one with golden teeth speaks

With a tone of eloquence

His blonde hair in intricately woven braids

Similar to engravings on a well-loved bow

A protector of Asgard,

He is truly priceless."

#reader edits the poem between chapters-#i revised this like 4 times and there's like 3 paragraphs I refused to touch bc they were so bad #anyways LAUGH. LAUGH at reader for making ASSUMPTIONS. can't wait for them to be WRONG #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #gn!reader #gender nuetral reader #this is cringe. it'll get better.#asgard's bard #x reader

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where-theres-smoak-2 · 1 year

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OBX Season 3 Review

I just finished watching the third season and honestly I have very few criticisms for this season, I think it was amazing definitely the best season they’ve done yet in my opinion. So just want to put a spoiler warning in here as I am going to be talking about some plot points and big moments that happen so if you haven’t caught up yet and don’t want to be spoiled scroll past this post. I have alot of thoughts so I’ve divided it into sections, if there’s a particular theme or subject that doesn’t really interest you then hopefully that will make it easier for you to get to the ones that do.

Goodbye Island Paradise

This season was a bit different to the other two seasons in that the pogues were actually separated quite a lot this season, particularly John B who spent alot of the season with his dad. However I surprisingly didn’t mind that as I do think it fit the narrative and made sense within the story and for all the characters involved. I think being on the island, or more accurately, coming home from the island changed the pogues and they all struggled to reacclimate, they were on Poguelandia for a whole month, which is a long time so it makes sense that they would struggle to find their feet again once home. I do think they all struggle differently though. JJ seems to have the hardest time because he really had very little to come home too and then when he does get home its to an eviction notice on his home which really does leave him with pretty much nothing and I think the only reason he left that island was to be with the rest of the pogues, it was clear that he didn’t really want to leave. Kiara is having to deal with her parents and whilst at first they are happy to see her it quickly falls back into the same tensions and disagreements they were having before with her parents not wanting her around the pogues and in particular JJ. Whilst I do think part of her wanted to go home and see her parents I do think she, like JJ, ultimately was happier on the island and part of her also didn’t want to leave. I think Pope and Cleo have the easiest time reacclimating, I think he has a more understanding relationship with his parents and Cleo has really helped him appreciate that he really did have a good thing at home. For Cleo I think going to OBX was like a dream come true, I loved that scene when she is excited about having her own room for the first time. In some ways it was really sad because it highlights how tough a life she had previously but it was also really wholesome seeing how happy she was and I think she does fit in really well with Pope’s family and it seems like his parents really like her and she helped them have more trust in Pope. Sarah I think is very much in the same position as JJ in that she has no family or home to come back to, she did have John B but when his dad comes back he is so wrapped up in what is going on with his father that Sarah gets pushed out. I imagine it was a complicated situation as John B and Sarah had become use to it being just the two of them but for Big John it had always been him and John B against the world so its almost like Sarah and Big John and competing to be that person in John B’s life. Meanwhile you’ve got John B who I think obviously is very happy his father is alive but having spent a year without him is having to get used to having a father in his life again which is causing some issues in his relationship with Sarah.

Big John’s Return

I do want to talk a bit about Big John and his arc throughout the season as it did take up a big chunk of the season. I do think they wrote his character very realistically. I loved the reunion between him and John B it was very moving. But the wholesome moments don’t last long as Big John is still very much on this treasure hunt and motivated by finding this big treasure. The relationship between John B and Big John does become tense because of this, especially when Big John makes it obvious that he doesn’t fully trust the other pogues and in particular Sarah. Again though I think this mistrust and paranoia makes sense for Big John’s character given everything he has gone through. He trusted Ward only for him to dump Big John’s lifeless body into the sea instead of calling for help, he thought he was being rescued by Singh’s men only for it to turn out he was being held hostage. It’s understandable after a year of fearing for his life that he will be struggling with trusting anyone and I think the only one he really does trust is John B. Obviously though John B is not comfortable with lying to the pogues as he has gone through so much with them and they’ve survived it by trusting each other and being there for each other. This leaves John B feeling really torn because on the one hand he is over the moon that his father is alive like he always believed he was and wants to be there for his dad but at the same time he doesn’t have that same level of mistrust that his dad does. Also it seems like Big John and John B see the gold very differently. Whilst Big John is very much still driven by finding the gold, John B seemed to me to just want to take a breath and spend time with his dad, I honestly think John B would have been good with forgetting the gold altogether and living in the chateau with his dad and Sarah.

The Gold: An Escape or A Trap?

One thing that I thought was interesting this season was them introducing this question of whether the gold was an escape or a trap and I loved how they explored that through the characters and how they see the gold and how they go about hunting for the gold. I think ultimately the answer to this question is that it is both and all comes down to how far you’ll go to get the gold. You have characters like Rafe and Singh, Limbrey and Ward who will risk it all for the gold (although I will say that Rafe and Ward can be anomalies at times in that they occasionally do have a conscience) they’ll kill and betray and even hurt their own family members if it will get them the gold. Limbrey kills her brother, Rafe tries to kill his sister and orders a hit man on Ward, Ward also tries to kill Sarah. For these guys the most important thing to them is the gold and they will do anything to get it, it consumes them in a very unhealthy and toxic way that leads them to do some heinous crimes but what’s interesting is all of them believe it is their destiny to find the gold whether that gold is the merchant gold, the cross or El Dorado itself. So when anybody gets in the way they become angry to the point of becoming unhinged because to them its not just somebody might get to the gold first and I’ll lose out, its somebody is getting in the way of my destiny. In this way the gold/treasure is undoubtedly a trap, its become such an all consuming part of their lives that they can no longer escape it.

Then you have Big John who I think is kind of in the middle. I think for him the gold is both an escape and a trap. Whereas those I mentioned above mostly want the gold for themselves or because they’ve got some warped idea of destiny in their minds, Big John wants the gold so that he can give his son a better life and I really believe that is his driving force in the search for the gold. One of the most shocking scenes for me in Big John’s story arc was when he shoots and kills those two men from the coastal venture who were then working for Singh. The sudden brutality of it really caught me off guard and obviously its equally shocking to John B. It honestly left me very conflicted because on the one hand as the audience we know that Big John’s instincts were right and those men were going to kill John B but on the other is was upsetting seeing someone who had been painted as this victim of ward or as a hero become a killer. I think the difference between Ward, Rafe and the others mentioned above vs Big John though, is that whilst the others killed to save their own skin or to stop someone else getting the gold, Big John kills to protect his son. I really do believe that he saw that gun pointed at his son and acted on instinct. I think another difference is that whilst the others after killing one person keeps on killing anyone who gets in their way I don’t believe Big John does. I’m pretty sure the only other person he kills is Singh himself and even then its not like he kills him directly he throws the dynamite at the entrance to El Dorado and Singh gets killed trying to get to the stick before it explodes. But whilst I do think Big John has good intentions when it comes to the gold I do still think the trauma he has gone through combined with this desperation to provide a better life for his son has caused the gold to become a trap for him as well. He might not kill just anybody for the gold but he still does some pretty shady things in the name of it. Like for example trying to convince his son to hold up a little old lady to get her key card for the museum and keeping secrets from both the pogues and John B himself. Despite his good intentions he still gets caught in the trap of the gold and lets it consume him to the point where it almost becomes the only thing that matters to him. In his case though I do think that its John B that pulls him back to reality. In the end he chooses his son over the gold.

Which brings me to the Pogues who I do think are on the opposite side of the spectrum. I would argue that when it comes to the Pogues the gold is more of an escape but one that is in danger of becoming a trap. I think the main difference with the Pogues though is that whilst they care about the gold and they want to find it, there never comes a moment when it becomes more important than each other. On several occasions when it has become a choice between choosing the gold or protecting/saving one of their own they have always chosen each other. When someone is hurt or at risk the gold ceases being important to them. An example is when Sarah gets shot in season 2, John B abandons the gold and takes care of Sarah his priority becomes saving her, when Pope gets stung and has an allergic reaction they abandon the cross in the church and focus on getting Pope medical attention and then in this season when Kiara is taken and they find the painting of the boat which held the merchant gold and the cross JJ says its not important as it doesn’t help them find Kiara. When they steal the fake cross off the train and JJ tries to draw the police away, Sarah and the other pogues make Topper turn around and go back for JJ even though that might risk them losing the cross and/or getting caught by the police themselves.

Another difference is that the pogues have a line that they won’t cross which is killing others. When John B had the chance to kill Ward, a man who at the time he believed had killed his father, who he had just seen trying to kill Sarah, and who had tried to frame him for murder, he doesn’t take it. The same with JJ when he had a gun and was tempted to kill his father who had abused him his whole life he chooses not to. In this season when Pope is angry that Rafe melted the cross down and is tempted to kill Rafe again he chooses not to. Even when it comes to those who would harm or kill them, they will incapacitate but not kill them. For the Pogues the gold is that dream of escaping all their woes. Its breaking free from the system where the rich have everything and are treated with respect no matter what they do and how the poor have nothing but judgements thrown at them and are treated unfairly. The gold will allow them to run away and literally escape all their problems, the gold will offer them security for their futures. But the worry is whether it will become a trap for them, will it become an addiction that they can’t break free from. One thing I did notice, that I thought was interesting, is all those who will do anything for the gold are those who are already rich, who have had the taste of being rich and don’t want to lose that lifestyle and the power that comes with money. The question for season 4 is whether now that they have money will the pogues fall into the same trap as those before them and start to do anything to keep the wealth they’ve gained?

Jiara

So now I want to talk about the really good stuff, Jiara. They were amazing this season and so so well written. Like I love their story this season dude. Again I think it also tracked for these characters and there was no point that I thought oh so and so wouldn’t have reacted like that or wouldn’t have done that. As I said above I do think neither JJ nor Kiara really wanted to leave Poguelandia and were both happier there, I loved all their scenes on the island of them fishing together and how they were talking about how being on the island was just like what they were talking about their surf trip being. One of the best scenes acting wise for me was the one in episode 4 when they’ve got home and Kiara comes to talk to JJ after they nearly kiss on the boat. Both actors did amazing jobs this season and this scene was just chef kiss good. I liked that they made the distinction that whilst it was weird for them both it wasn’t bad weird. Like when Kie said it was weird to Pope after they hooked up I think she did mean it was bad weird, she felt awkward and I don’t think she did it for the right reasons really, I think it was more she was confused and knew how Pope felt about her and didn't want to hurt his feelings. But with JJ I think its that things are changing and its different but I don’t hate it kind of weird. The tension in the moment when they are almost about to kiss was amazing and you can see JJ is really struggling to resist her but he is also struggling with all this self doubt and so he backs away and has this whole kind of monologue about how they shouldn’t be doing it and how he’s a loser and how could she care about him before trying to convince himself that she doesn’t care about him. I think this complete freak out makes a lot of sense for JJ’s character, as Kiara says later in the episode, it freaks him out when people get close. He is too used to being told that he’s worthless and no good etc that he believes it to be true and believes he is unworthy of love, JJ is just not someone who is used to having nice things so it makes sense that he would be scared of things changing between him and Kiara and it not working out and that meaning he loses his friendship with her too.

I really hated the scene when Mike starts berating JJ and saying that he ruined Kiara’s life and that she is better off with out him etc and then JJ who actually remained pretty calm throughout all that and only replied that he meant no disrespect then hears Mike saying everyone sees JJ as a thief and no good for nothing and how he’s just like his father. What I hated about this was that everything Mike said is exactly what JJ already thinks of himself and hearing Kiara’s father say the same things only reinforces that in his mind and makes him decide that things between him and Kiara could never work, that he really is no good for her and so he takes the money clip. I do think there is alot more to JJ taking the money clip than just he stole from her dad. Kiara is obviously upset with JJ for doing this but its because she knows him well enough to know why he really did it and it wasn’t because oh if I’m called a thief I might as well get something out of it. It was him deliberately throwing obstacles and roadblocks in the way of their relationship. Its him giving up on the chance of them becoming something more and also making it more difficult for them to even have a friendship. This is really hurtful for Kiara because she is being really honest and open about how she feels and is trying to be understanding of JJ and saying she gets that he is freaked out and is trying to work through those feelings with JJ but he is shutting down and acting like he doesn’t care. It’s almost like he is trying to make her hate him or lose those feelings for him in some misguided attempt to save her from himself.

The money clip comes up again at the anniversary party when JJ is annoyed when Kiara says she can’t leave right then. JJ kind of throws it in her face because he knows it’ll hurt her. But again Kiara sees right through it and knows its not the money clip that’s the problem its the reason behind why JJ did it that is and that’s what is hurtful to her, so she calls him out on it. When I tell you I legit gasped out loud when she said she loves him, I was not expecting it as soon as we got it, I thought there weren’t going to get any confessions or anything like that until the end of the season but I was really happy that she did. It did kind of break JJ though I think, he seemed to struggle to string a sentence together and his thoughts were all over the place. I just don’t think JJ was in the right head space to be hearing it, again JJ just hasn’t been given much love in the past so his instinct to Kiara telling him she loves him is to wonder why? How? What about him could she possibly love? Honestly its really sad how much damage his parents and others have done to him that he can’t accept it when someone does love him. It also really sucks for Kiara and I felt so sorry for her, especially after JJ says it won’t work and that when he gets back maybe he’ll see her at the break. Its like she is pouring her heart out here and he’s being dismissive of her. Yet she knows him well enough to know why he’s behaving like that and I honestly don’t know if that makes it better or worse for her.

I also loved JJ’s whole rescue mission when Kiara is taken to Kitty Hawk. Also side note here but what the hell were her parents thinking with this move?! Their daughter had confided in them that she was abducted and she feared she was going to die and they thought the best response was to have her manhandled into the back of a car while she screamed for them to let her go and cart her off somewhere she didn’t want to go, because yeah that’s not going to trigger her at all, that’s not going to add to her trauma. Seriously they made me so mad this season. But anyway I loved how JJ was able to see the cat photo the camp worker had and then manipulate the situation with the whole her cat died story. I also loved how Kiara figured out that is was JJ and goes along with it, also her little smile when she sat on the bed and knew that JJ was coming to get her made my heart so warm. Their reunion in cabin 6 was also such a great moment, the way they looked at each other and hugged. JJ apologising was also a great pay off. Again because he’s not really apologising for the money clip he’s apologising for not giving them a chance and for shutting her out. Them saying I love you to each other was perfect, like with Kiara she was so happy that he was there and it was almost like you’re a goof but I love you. With JJ you could hear the relief in his voice when he said it like finally he had given in and was ready to take a chance on them. It just felt so real. And of course their kiss was epic too, I felt like they did a great job of building up to it throughout the season so it felt very well earned. Also I couldn’t help but laugh at all the girls cheering in the background and JJ trying to get them to hush up. You just know that was the most exciting thing that had happened to those girls since they had got locked up in that camp, you just know that jiara have become a legend at the camp now where every new arrival hears the story about how one of the girls was rescued by her lover and they tore away in the middle of the night like bonnie and clyde.

There is only one criticism I have when it comes to Jiara and its probably me being greedy but I do wish we had gotten a kiss or something in the finale, they spent a whole season building them up but then there wasn’t really anything in the finale other than some light flirting when they were on the bus and them smiling and making heart eyes at each other in the time jump scene at the end. I’d have liked just one more little kiss or an arm around her shoulders on the bus, something like that. But otherwise Jiara were definitely the highlight of the season for me.

Cleope

The moment Cleo and Pope made that no love club I think we all knew it wasn’t going to last and they’d fall in love with each other. I do think they have great chemistry with each other and I enjoyed their journey this season. I think they had much better chemistry than Pope and Kie and it felt alot more balanced between him and Cleo if that makes sense. I do love how Cleo seemed to ground Pope. I think he was beginning to feel very lost with everything that happened between him and Kie and finding out about Denmark's story and how much injustice his ancestor faced plus losing his scholarship, the gold and the cross. I loved the scene where after finding out Rafe melted the cross down and deciding to take the gun and go after him, Cleo was able to talk Pope down and just give him that hug he really needed. I also loved seeing Cleo blend so easily in with Pope’s family and getting to have nice things for a change. There was a little moment at the table, I think in ep 3, when Pope and Cleo are being a bit flirty and giving each other heart eyes and Pope’s mum and dad just give each other the side eye like hey are you seeing what’s going on here that I thought was really amusing. It was obvious they approved of Cleo and I wouldn’t be surprised if they are already mentally planning their wedding. I did think the way Pope and Cleo fell in love was very natural and it didn’t feel forced at all and I also love how Cleo let Pope know she had feelings for him by quitting the no love club. Their kiss was also really sweet and I am really looking forward to seeing where their relationship goes in season 4.

Jarah

Ok so I have always loved John and Sarah and that romeo and juliet vibe they’ve got going on. This season they are a bit distant with John’s dad coming back and that causing tension between them which ultimately leads to Sarah making a mistake and kissing Topper. Honestly I hated that Sarah cheated on John B especially as she already has this rep in previous seasons of being a cheater with her getting with John B before breaking up with Topper and with Wheezie’s comment about her cheating on every boyfriend she’s had, I was kind of hoping that John B would be different and she wouldn’t cheat on him. That being said I do get how it makes sense within the narrative. Sarah is clearly struggling with the trauma of having both her brother and father try to kill her, she’s home now but John B is being distant with her and I just think she was feeling very lost and had no where to go after her argument with John B. So when she is invited to hang out with Topper and the other Kooks it reminds her of her life before it all went wrong, when her dad was still her hero and her family were all together. She also had been drinking and all of that leads to her making a mistake with Topper. To be fair to her she clearly regrets it in the morning and she does tell John B pretty quick, its not like she tries to hide it for weeks on end. I think she was feeling pretty bad when John B showed up and was really apologetic. It caused some chaos though as John B rightfully was very upset and that lead to him beating Topper and ending things with Sarah. Which then lead to him having charges pressed against him and again this shows that bias towards the kooks because whilst yes it was wrong for John B to beat Topper like that I remember another instance back in season 1 when Topper tried to drown John B and John B didn’t go pressing charges. I think Topper really is as bad as John B when it comes to them getting into fights.

I do think Sarah shows her loyalty to John B when she does everything she can to get him out after he is arrested. I think she felt it was partly her fault that John B was arrested because it was her cheating that lead John B to attack Topper. I think getting him out but also getting her dad’s plane to get them to south america was all her way of showing him look I am on your side and I am still with you. I also did like their reconciliation scene, you know before it all literally went up in flames. I am also glad that we had a few reminders that they are, or at least they consider themselves as, married. I do wish that we’d get a scene of Sarah admitting or acknowledging that John B is her husband to someone as we’ve only really seen John B referring to Sarah as his wife to others apart from that one scene when Sarah tells Kie. I get the feeling that to John B it was real, like he meant those vows and he really does see Sarah as his wife. But with Sarah there are times where it doesn’t seem as serious to her and is almost like a little funny thing that they did. So I would like in season 4 for Sarah to either refer to him as her husband or for them to make it legit and legal, I mean the 18 month time jump must make them if not already 18 then close to it.

Topper

There were moments in this season where I did actually feel sorry for Topper. Like he does get messed around a bit by Sarah and its understandable that he is getting mixed signals from her. I did think that whole sequence of him helping the pogues steal the cross because they need his truck was really amusing especially when he tells her that she’s from a good family how can she live like this because like dude two members of her family are killers and rose is such an enabler always telling ward that he did what he had to do and he’s good man really, the only one other than sarah that you could really consider good is wheezie, that’s your idea of a good family Topper really? It was very obvious that Topper is not cut out for the Pogue life that’s for sure, but it still gave us some surreal yet comedic moments. I can also get that Sarah kissing him would have messed with him a bit too, but any sympathy I may have had for him went flying out the window when he decided to set the Chateau on fire with everyone inside. Pretty sure that would count as attempted murder. I do think that Topper has a really unhealthy obsession with Sarah, I didn’t like how after their kiss he just automatically assumed that they were back together without talking with Sarah. I get that he felt like he had been used after he didn’t press charges thinking John B will be gone and Sarah would stay, because lets be real Sarah was manipulating him there, but his reaction to finding out she was with John B being burning down their house was going way too far.

Rafe

Oh Rafe you sure are a complicated one. I mean there were moments where he does do the right thing this season like helping Kie escape and stopping the hitman on his father but it was mostly him just getting up to his usual antics. I couldn’t believe it when he tried to argue that he was as much a victim as Peterkin, she’s dead dude and you’re still going around killing people to benefit yourself. I mean that poor husband who just wanted to buy jewellery for his girl, dead because Rafe needed his hat and wallet. I also couldn’t believe that he melted down that cross. I have always loved history, I even studied Archaeology at university and went on a few digs before ill health got in the way of me pursuing it any further as a career and so I felt that at a truly personal level like it pained me seeing a one of kind, historical artefact get melted down out of greed, even a fictional one. For that reason alone Rafe is permanently in my bad books. Still I can’t deny that Drew is an amazing actor who really does deliver every time. I am curious to see where they go with Rafe in season 4 and also what happens with his relationship with that girl he was hooking up with, think her name was Sophie, as I do think she could potentially be a good influence on him, it did seem like she was the one to convince him to not kill his dad. Guess we’ll have to wait and see how that all plays out.

Finding El Dorado

Most of the finale episode was focused on them finding and getting to El Dorado. I did think it was a good finale. There was plenty of action but there was also that classic OBX humour, like when JJ and Kie arrive on the bus and straight away see Pope and Cleo but then also immediately have to run, I love Kie saying already but we just got here, another funny moment was when Sarah and John B find Big John because they happen to be under the window of the room he is being kept in and hear him shouting. Sometimes I think these Pogues just get wins through pure luck. I liked seeing Big John start the episode being really mistrusting of Sarah to the point of not wanting to tell John B details that might help to actually trusting her and letting her and John B go on ahead without him and kind of passing the baton over to them. I also liked the look they went for with El Dorado itself it looked really beautiful and the kind of riddle you had to solve from the stone artefact and how you could only see the entrance to it in the dark was really fun. I adored the moment John B and Sarah actually found El Dorado. Like when they found the merchant gold or when they found the cross, you could just see the euphoria on their faces and how emotional they got. There is only one thing I would change about this scene and that is I wish the other pogues were there too to celebrate with them.

Another thing I liked was that when it came down to protecting his son or leaving the way open to come back for the gold Big John chose his son. I knew the moment that we saw he had been shot that Big John was going to die but I do feel like it was the right move for both Big John and Ward to die and for them to close that chapter of the story. I do think that Ward and Big John’s stories paralleled each other. They both became obsessed with the treasure which lead them down a darker, more violent path, but ultimately they both sacrificed their lives to save their children. However even though I think it was right for the story it was still really sad.

I will admit that when first Ward then Singh’s top man showed up I was like oh here we go again they’re going to lose the treasure, because of course they can’t have nice things. So I was pleasantly surprised when they did actually manage to keep hold of the gold. Ward’s death I think was a redeeming moment for him as he chooses his daughter and dies to protect her. I also thought it was a good contrast between when he faked his death in season 2 as in that scene John B was really unable to comfort Sarah because of his own feelings about Ward and as Sarah said he looked glad which made it really hard for Sarah. So I am glad that this time John B was there and was comforting her, up until Pope notices that Big John isn’t doing so well that is.

I did think Big John dying was really emotional, like that must have been really heartbreaking for John B, he spent a whole year believing his father was alive when everyone else was telling him he was dead and now he was having to watch his father die in his arms. I did choke up a bit when Big John takes both John B’s and Sarah’s hands and puts them together telling John B to hold onto this one and that he’s the best son anyone could have, John B putting the gold in his hand and telling him he did it, the whole scene was really heartbreaking but the part that had me full on crying was when Big John said ‘I’ll see you at home kid’ right before passing away and then you hear those damn bells in the background, I had to pause the episode to pull myself together. The memorials they made for both Ward and Big John were also nice tributes to them.

18 Months Later

You know this season did kind of feel like the last season of a series which really makes me wonder if they thought they weren’t getting another season. I mean it seemed like they wrapped quite a bit up, all the pogues were paired off and in love, Ward and Big John’s deaths, the Pogues finally getting the gold. But this time jump scene left me with soo many questions. Like we get some answers, Kie is saving turtles, JJ has a charter boat (which I like to think is where Kie is saving turtles from) Pope is going to school and Sarah and John B own a surf shop. But what’s going on with Cleo? Is she going to go to school with Pope? Is she going to stay with the Heywards and help them out whilst Pope is gone? Where are they all living? Did John B use some of the gold to rebuild the Chateau or did he and Sarah move into that condo her dad gave her the keys to, did they buy a whole new house or have living quarters above their business? What about JJ? I’m assuming he paid off his restitution and Barracuda Mike, did he also get his home back? What happened with Topper, last we saw of him he was pressing charges against John B so how did John B get out of that? Did he have enough money now to settle out of court or did he just threaten Topper that he knew he burned the Chateau down and if he dropped the charges John B wouldn’t press charges against Topper for what would have been a more serious crime? What happened with Kiara and her parents because honestly it made me so angry that they were there cheering after everything they did to her? Also the world knows that they found El Dorado so did they show the gold to someone and then have an excavation team go out and reopen the entrance to it because it seems unlikely that people are just going to believe a bunch of teens even with the gold? What’s the deal with this whole blackbeard guy? Is he genuine or is he a villain? Just so many questions. It’s going to be a long wait until season 4.

Anyway that’s all I’ve got for now. As I said I did really enjoy the season. It had great character development and plot twists and I still really love this show.

#outer banks #obx #obx3 spoilers #outer banks s3 spoilers #jiara #jarah #cleope

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whats-k-popping · 2 years

Note

Yo! When requests are open you should flip the script on your sick Seokjin x caretaker Jung Kook fanfic. Part II Maybe Jung Kook has a higher fever with less vomiting than Seokjin but he definitely caught the bug. Love ya worth sweetie

I loved this idea so much! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for encouraging me to continue the original! <3

Pairing: Jinkook - platonic intentions but read as you want

Words: 2394

Warnings: Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of Nausea || Fever || Slight Angst || Minor Burns

See Also: Part 1 - the original request

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"Jungkook-ah. Jungkook-ah?" The youngest hears his name slip into his dream, dragging him back to the realm of the conscious. It feels like he'd just fallen asleep. Who dares wake him up?

"Mmmmm" He hums and shifts in his bed. He tries to stretch out, but there's a body in bed next to him. When he peeks an eye open, he sees Seokjin lying beside him. Memories of the night's events flood his mind at once. He'd forgotten his oldest hyung was feeling sick. He'd forgotten he offered up his bed.

Seokjin's awake, and the only other person in the room. So it's safe to say that he was the one calling out to Jungkook. "Need something, hyung?" There's a sad tilt to the oldest's eyes and a pout that tells him that's probably the case.

"My stomach aches," the oldest admits shamelessly, "could you make me some broth, please."

Jungkook stares at the older man with a glazed look in his eyes. When he realizes he's staring, he turns to the clock. It's nearly noon. Had he really slept in that late?

When Jungkook doesn't move from the bed, Seokjin speaks again. "I would make some for myself. But I'm really not feeling good." This time there's a touch of guilt in his voice, "I think I'm going to throw up again soon. And it will hurt less if there's actually something in my stomach to throw up."

This confession rouses Jungkook. He doesn't want his hyung to throw up at all. But since it's inevitable, he wants to at least make sure it doesn't hurt. He doesn't like to see Seokjin in pain. It's devastating. So he props himself up in bed.

The motion makes his head spin. Maybe he hasn't drunk enough water? Or gotten enough protein recently? Whatever the reason, his vision steadies and he's able to maneuver around Seokjin and climb off the bed. "It's alright, hyung. I should probably eat too. I'll make some ramyeon and bring you some of the broth." His own voice sounds distant but he writes it off as a lingering effect of just waking up.

"Don't make it too spicy, Kook-ah," Seokjin reminds. Jungkook grunts in affirmation.

Before he leaves the room, Jungkook presses a hand to Seokjin’s forehead. It’s cold. “At least it seems your fever went down. I’ll get you some nausea medicine to take with the broth. How does that sound?” Seokjin’s eyes light up at the very idea. Jungkook chuckles and nods before he’s own his way.

He habitually grabs his phone off the desk by his bedroom door before heading to the kitchen. Some brief scrolling reveals that he and Seokjin are alone in the dorms for the day. The rest of the members had left hours ago for schedules. But they must have figured out about Seokjin’s illness and left Jungkook in charge of hyung-sitting. A text from Namjoon reveals that both of their schedules were cleared for two days to give Seokjin time to recover, and Jungkook the responsibility to assist. During business hours, anyway. But with some of the hyung, business hours never end. The maknae rolls his eyes. He wishes they would have discussed it with him first, but he’s not one to complain. So he just sends a thumbs up reaction to Namjoon’s text and informs the other’s that Seokjin’s still feeling nauseous.

The stairs are hard. Each step sends a chilling ache through Jungkook’s entire body. He has to take the staircase slow. Every motion is calculated in an effort to cause him the least amount of pain. But despite his best efforts, his whole body aches when he makes it to the bottom. He started a new workout regimen recently. Maybe he’s been going too hard at the gym. Maybe these rest days with Seokjin are exactly what his body needs.

Seokjin’s waiting for broth, Jungkook remembers, while he wills himself to the kitchen. Someone left the kitchen lights on and they are entirely too bright. Jungkook flicks them off, letting the afternoon sunshine illuminate the room. It’s cold, too. Did someone leave a window open?

He’s made ramyeon probably a thousand times in his life. It was the first thing his mother taught him to make for himself. So why can’t he remember the recipe. He needs the noodles, and some stock. Green onions? He knows he can't make it spicy, but can Seokjin’s stomach handle a little savory flavor? Or should he make it bland. Should he add chicken? His hyung probably isn’t ready for strong flavor yet. But he wants the protein in his dish. His mother’s voice repeats steps in his head. He can hear her telling him the recipe as he starts to get the ingredients together. He swears she is standing in the kitchen with him.

The pot on the stove is working up to a boil when a wave of fatigue washes over the maknae. Despite sleeping for nearly 12 hours, what would have been an uninterrupted 12 hours had Seokjin not woken him in the middle of the night, he’s still exhausted. But he blames it on the brief midnight interactions with Seokjin. He blames it on the sun and dehydration and the workout menu. He’s quick to assign blame. It's easier than coming to terms with the way his body feels.

He grabs a glass of water and a banana to eat while he waits. He means to just take a sip, but ends up chugging the whole glass. Had he forgotten how good water tastes? Or was he just that thirsty. He goes back for a second glass. The banana tastes bland, but he finishes it anyway.

The pot is still not boiling. But Jungkook’s knees wobble as he stands over it. He takes a seat at the table to wait, assuring he will hear it start to rapid boil and he'll smell when the flavors start to diffuse. It should only be a few more minutes.

The next thing Jungkook knows, he's shaken by a hand on his shoulder. It's Seokjin's hand. But Seokjin is supposed to be in bed? Waiting for broth? Jungkook glances at the stove top to find the pot he had set out boiling over. Frothy liquid pours in waves over the edge of the pot, making a mess of the range top.

He must have dozed off.

Jungkook quickly rushes to the stove and turns off the heat. He grabs the handles of the pot and quickly retracts his hands. He'd forgotten hot pads. Now the palms of his hands sting.

Seokjin jumps in, rushing Jungkook to the sink and runs the maknae's hands under lukewarm water. "Jungkook-ah, what happened?" He asks as he looks at the forming red burn marks on Jungkook's hands. They are minor, no broken skin. Nothing that a little water and a burn cream won't fix.

“Hyung, I’m so sorry. I made a mess.” Jungkook's eyes pool with tears. The maknae had moved past his crybaby days. But Seokjin has suspicions. "I was making the ramyeon and I just sat down for a second waiting for it to boil, I swear.”

“Kook, it's been over a half hour. I was worried about you.” Seokjin confesses, pressing a hand to the back of Jungkook's forehead. It's merely a formality. He can see the sunken expression of Jungkook's eyes and see the fat droplets of sweat on his face. But he just wants to be sure. “Ya, you're burning up. Why didn't you say you weren't feeling well?”

Seokjin wipes the dampness on his hand onto his pants. They both stay silent, knowing where Jungkook caught the fever. Seokjin feels bad, but at least it doesn't seem like Jungkook's as nauseous as he was, and as he still is to an extent. He hopes that miserable symptom will skip the maknae completely.

“I'm sorry, hyung. You needed me to take care of you, and I've let you down.” Jungkook pouts. “I couldn't even make the broth for you.” A single tear slides down his puffy rounded cheeks. He scrubs it away when it runs along his jawline.

Seokjin pulls Jungkook in for a hug, arms wrapping tightly around the maknae's chest. Jungkook wastes no time burying his face into his hyung’s shoulder. "Aish, you could never disappoint me, bun. You tried your best. And no one got hurt, that's what's important." Seokjin reassures. He's not thrilled that Jungkook was operating his kitchen under fevered conditions. He's not happy that Jungkook hid his illness in the first place.

“I’m sorry for getting sick. I didn’t mean it,” Jungkook breaks with a sob. It hurts Seokjin’s heart. “Now who’s going to take care of you? All the other hyungs are gone.” He squeezes the back of Seokjin’s t-shirt just a little tighter.

Seokjin runs his fingers down the maknae’s back. He wants to console his weeping dongsaeng, but the nausea that’s been building in his own stomach prevents him from opening his mouth. The physical ache inside of him mixes with the emotional ache of spreading his illness to his fellow member. He feels guilty, regrets reaching out to Jungkook in the middle of the night. It creates a devastating churn that upsets his whole body. He knows he has nothing inside to throw up. But that just makes him even worse.

The eldest hyung encourages Jungkook to sit. It takes every ounce of Seokjin’s courage to pull away from Jungkook while he’s crying so heavily into his shoulder. And he knows that running off to retch will only make Jungkook feel worse. But his body leaves him no other choice. Once he’s disconnected from the maknae, he throws himself over the kitchen sink. He gags dryly, harshly, but nothing comes up but thick saliva. Eventually pitiful amounts of viscous yellow bile coat the bottom of the sink, pulled deep from his empty stomach. Still, his body continues.

Meanwhile, Jungkook still sits on the chair, crying harder watching Seokjin gag and knowing there’s nothing he can do about it. He feels weak, he can’t even bring himself to stand off the chair. In despair, he folds over the table, head tucked into his crossed arms just so he doesn’t have to watch. The retching is loud, made louder by the pounding headaches he's finally acknowledging. He tries to clamp over his ears with his elbows. But it only muffles the sound a bit.

Jungkook's cries are occasionally broken by apologies, self-depreciating statements and encouraging phrases. It's all he can offer. His skin burns, but there's a chill running up and down his spine. Every area of his body hurts. He feels muscle aches all way down to the tips of his toes. He doesn't remember fevers being this bad. In his fevered haze, he wonders if he'll ever feel normal again. He forgets what it's like to feel well.

When Seokjin's stomach calms, he continues to stand over the sink. There will be more to come eventually. The telling rumble of his stomach makes him convinced there's more vomiting to come. But for now, he's settled.

The sight of his meager stomach contents in the kitchen sink makes him cringe in disgust. They prepare their food in this sink. He wants to clean it now, but the smell of cleaning products might set him off. So he opts to wait. Or ask Yoongi to do it when the others get back. He settles to just rinsing it down the drain.

The older man then turns his attention back to Jungkook, who is still resting on the table crying about how everything is all his fault. He goes back to consoling, rubbing his hand up and down Jungkook's back. "Hush now, Jungkook-ah." He lowers his voice when he notices how the sound makes Jungkook wince, "Hyung's alright. We are both going to be alright."

"Hyung," Jungkook leans back against Seokjin, this time his head against the older vocalist's sore stomach. "I really don't feel good." He cries some more.

"I know, bun. Neither do I." Seokjin confesses. They both know they are sick. No point in lying about anything. "But it's just a little virus. We'll be better in a few days. We just have to get through it." He replies with confidence, but frankly he also feels like the nausea will never recede.

"Ca-Can we call another hyung?" Jungkook asks timidly, sniffling away the last of his tears. He's got someone in mind. Someone who always makes everything feel better. Someone who brightens their day just by existing. But he's arguably not the best with it comes to managing sick members.

Seokjin knows who Jungkook wants. It's not a bad idea to call for backup. But he knows the other members are busy. So he shakes his head slowly, "The members are busy with their schedules, JK. We shouldn't disturb them. It could be an inconvenience." His fingers never break from Jungkook's body as he speaks. He knows Jungkook responds best to physical comfort.

Jungkook's shoulders slump at the news, but he doesn't argue the point any further. He trusts Seokjin's judgement. Much more than he trusts his own.

It's not an easy task, but Seokjin manages to get Jungkook and himself situated on the couches in the living room. The maknae is curled up with a fluffy blanket around his shivering limbs. There's an empty garbage bin sitting next to Seokjin's side of the couch, waiting for the next digestive rebellion. They realize that they'd never gotten a chance to eat and resolve to order delivery, both picking light meals. No one dares re-enter the kitchen.

Jungkook's head bobs up and down as he's eating, chopsticks slipping from his grasp. The maknae eventually falls asleep with a slice of bread in his hand. Seokjin rolls his eyes and seals the meal to be finished later. He knows Jungkook needs sleep. And he knows he will be close behind.

The rest of the members find them hours later, sound asleep on the couch with a take-out mess of uneaten food littering the table. They can tell right away from the flushed cheeks and sweaty brow that Jungkook's caught the bug.

Namjoon asks the managers to push back their schedules for a few days. It might be a while before the bug clears the dorm.

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A/N: As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

Since the cat's out of the bag here, there are two more previous requests (Both spin offs or continuations of previous fics I've written) that I will finish before starting my most recent round of requests. But I am thinking about them and I'm so excited to write them!

Lots of love! <3 Aki

#bts #bts sickfic #sick!Seokjin #sick!jungkook #caretaker!seokjin #caretaker!Jungkook #platonic bts #bts emeto #bts fever #bts canonverse #tw emeto #tw fever #tw burns #tw angst #aki sickfic #aki writes #aki requests

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aggimaginary · 10 months

Text

The Bad Guys Season 1: Our Own Story (chapter 39) - Love Paradise

First Previous Next

I told you this isn't over. This is the continuation of the previous chapter, but we're coming to a close for this season. Enjoy this story while the chapters lasted.

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Intro

Mr. Wolf: Yeah! I'm bad!

Mr. Snake: You're bad!

Ms. Tarantula: He's bad!

Mr. Hornet: She's bad!

Mr. Piranha: We're bad!

Mr. Shark: Who's bad?

The Bad Guys: Yeah! We're the Bad Guys!

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The next morning, after a peaceful movie night last night, the Bad Guys didn't have a good morning. Despite the good movie night and having Hornet back home alive last night, they couldn't get over that trauma and almost lost Hornet, their very good friend. Even Hornet couldn't forget what happened last night. He died in just a couple of minutes, and came back to life again. It was a weird experience to face death, and came back alive again. Another weird part was he got his first kiss with Piranha. He tried to forget that part too, but it was still stuck in his head, even in his dream. It was the best experience ever, but it was also awkward because he kissed his best friend. Piranha didn't get much sleep either. Not only he had his best friend dead in his hands, and watched him live again, but also he kissed him. Darn, Hornet was so small, but it was romantic. Kissing him was a good experience, but seeing Hornet's tired but unhappy face, Piranha was afraid that Hornet might regret what happened between them last night. Snake, Shark, Piranha, Tarantula, and Hornet were sitting on the couch, and Wolf stood in front of them.

"Morning, guys," Wolf declared, but no one seemed to respond because it was a bad morning for all Bad Guys. Wolf cleared his throat, and said, "As you know, we still haven't got over what happened last night," he then eyed the guilty and upset Hornet, who knew what Wolf was referring to, "On the bright side, we had our movie night, and, most importantly, we got Hornet back, alive and well, and hopefully it stayed that way."

"Don't worry, guys. As long as I still have my gem here, I think I'm alright," Hornet said while exposing his cracked life gem.

"But, if you die again, we'll revive you again with the power of friendship…! With our tears," Shark squealed, feeling touched by how Hornet came back to life that night.

"Shark, I appreciate that, but it's ridiculous. Plus, it was not guaranteed it might happen again if my life gem was off again," the little insect said,

"What about that crack in that gem?" Tarantula pointed to the tiny crack.

"Well, it didn't affect me overnight, and didn't flicker, so I think it'll be fine."

"That's good, Hornet," Wolf told him before telling the rest of the Bad Guys, "And since last night was a bit traumatic, why don't we go out, you know, get our mind off of things."

"That's great, Wolf, but I don't think we need this," Tarantula said.

"Trust me, we all need this," as the rest of the Bad Guys were confused, Wolf took out his phone, and scrolled the screen, "I think we can go to…" he showed the picture of a beach resort, "Avalon!"

The other Bad Guys gasped in surprise.

"Avalon? That is in Santa Catalina Island. Do we really need to go there? There were so many beaches in California," Snake said as he slithered from the couch, and towards Wolf.

"Snake, we need to get out of the city for a while, and Santa Catalina Island is the place we needed to get our mind off of… what just happened last night," Wolf explained, "The city here is too crowded, and people know much about us here. And if some of us want to go, well, getting a ferry won't be easy."

The other Bad Guys were unsure if they need to go to a beach resort for a vacation just to unwind and relax after what happened last night. Last night was a disaster, and not the night they expected. They did want to feel better, but a vacation on the beach? Would that be the best option? The Bad Guys glanced at each other if a beach vacation would be the right way to relax.

"Well, we do need someplace to stay away from here after what happened," Tarantula said.

"Alright. I think I need a little vacation too," Hornet admitted.

"Me too," Shark added.

"I'm a little stressed since last night, so… I'm in," Snake said.

Now Piranha had thought about it, this vacation might be his chance to make up to Hornet for almost failing to save him…, and for kissing him. It was one of the most awkward things the two had ever done since they weren't in a relationship yet, and they just… kissed. Maybe this vacation would distract Hornet and him from that awkward moment, and everything would go back to normal, "Alright, hermano, I think I need this one too."

"Yeah! Are we all in this together?" Wolf rubbed his paws together excitingly as he put one of them in the middle.

The other Bad Guys put their hands/tail/legs together. Operation: Vacation is a go!

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The Bad Guys drove all the way to Long Beach as it was the nearest beach to reach Santa Catalina Island. They took a ferry boat all the way to the Santa Catalina Island. They didn't want to waste their fun on a cruise. They wanted to save their fun at the resort. They rode the ferry boat for just an hour, and they made it to the island.

The Bad Guys arrived at the Hotel Metropole. They got themselves a parking space for their car, and rushed into the entrance. Wolf, Shark, and Tarantula took a couple of pictures on their first arrival.

While Shark was checking the camera, he took a glance at a waitress in the dining room. The waitress served drinks for the customer as she eyes on Shark, who fell into the gaze of the lady, and she blew a kiss on him. Shark stared dreamingly at the waitress and waved at her, he didn't notice Tarantula was on his shoulder, trying to snap out of his fantasy.

"Shark?" Tarantula snapped her mitten hand to get Shark's attention. "Shark?"

Shark snapped out of his mind, and turned his attention to Tarantula, "Did you see that girl? First, she smiled at me and then she winked, at me, and then she…" When he turned around, the waitress was gone, and an old woman waved at him, "...turned into someone else. I hate when that happens."

"Okay, I have plans for you guys," Wolf said, until he noticed the Bad Guys, except Piranha, split up. He announced to get everyone's attention, "Yo! Calling all Bad Guys Where's everybody goin'?

"Surfing," Tarantula answered.

"Swimming," Hornet added.

"I gotta find that waitress," Shark stated

"I'm going to a buffet to eat," Snake flicked his tongue.

Piranha still didn't say a word since they arrived.

"Everybody just calm down. You are all gonna get to do everything you want to, but… And this is the beauty part. We are all gonna do everything together," Wolf declared.

Snake, Shark, Tarantula, and Hornet whined, "Why?"

Wolf chuckled, "That's a good start. Since we can't let the disaster that happened last night stop us from having fun, so we have to do this as one big, happy family," he then took out a clipboard, "So I have carefully scheduled every minute of every day with everyone's activities."

"Great thinking, Wolf. This vacation is a perfect distraction from problems yesterday," Piranha nodded in agreement.

The other Bad Guys looked confused when they noticed Piranha was the only one agreeing with Wolf. This was the first Piranha agreed with Wolf alone.

Wolf looked down on his wristwatch, and declared, "Lady and gentlemen, let the vacation... begin! All right, we only have 15 minutes to check-in. Let's go."

The Bad Guys picked up their bags, and had to check in at the front desk at the lobby.

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In the hallway, the Bad Guys gathered together to listen to Wolf's instructions.

"Itineraries are in your rooms. Everyone meet in the lobby for our spa treatments," Wolf declared.

"Great! Now this is gonna be a relaxing vacation ever," Piranha added with full of enthusiasm.

Hornet was concerned about Piranha's change of attitude since they arrived here as he pulled him aside for them to tell, "I have never seen you agree with Wolf before. I mean, I'm... I'm like impressed with how you two plan for this vacation, but it's also kinda freaking me out."

"It's not just about what happened last night when we tried to save you, It's all for you for being alive," Piranha winked and laughed, "How excited are you to have fun and relax with all your besties?"

"Look, Piranha, it's not a big deal," Hornet assured him.

"You deserve a fun friends' trip. And so do us," Piranha told him, "I already told Wolf that Webs' laptop should be confiscated for a while, Shark had his shrimp cocktail coming, Snake had his room service along the way…"

"Thank you!" Snake yelled with a sarcastic happy tone as he got into his room.

"Piranha, you have obviously helped Wolf put a lot of planning into this trip, which just doesn't seem like you. Is everything okay?" Hornet asked his "best friend" with concern.

"Of course it is. I'm your best friend. That is all," Piranha replied, trying to not bring up the kiss.

"Thanks. For everything," Hornet smiled before heading to his room.

When Hornet closed the door, Piranha sighed as he hoped this vacation would maintain their friendship, and not bring the topic of their possible new relationship since that kiss.

"I'm truly embarrassed for you," Wolf spoke, interrupting Piranha's train of thought.

"What?" Piranha asked.

"This whole 'planning with me for this trip' routine, too many thoughtful details," Wolf smirked, "You two hooked up."

Piranha began to stammered in panic, "What? No! Me? Him? No, never!"

"Stop denying it," the leader said before heading down the hall to find his room

Piranha groaned in defeat as he joined Wolf, "Fine, yes! We kissed. Okay?" He sighed in relief. He finally got that out of his chest, "Phew! Feels so great to say that out loud. It's really been weighing on me. Thanks for saying something. I really need a confidante.

"I am not here to support you about that. I do not want to talk about this again."

"Sure, sure, I may have feelings, but I'm not gonna act on them. I mean, neither of us wants that. They'll fade over time. That's what feelings are known for doing. Neither of us wants that!"

"Why don't you say it one more time to be sure?"

Piranha stopped following Wolf as e realized he did have a point. Piranha kept talking about his feelings for Hornet and the kiss, the denial won't last long in Piranha's heart. He wasn't sure if his feelings for Hornet would fade.

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Later, the Bad Guys, except Hornet, were in the lobby, waiting for Hornet to come out of his room to meet them there. Snake, Shark, and Tarantula felt bored already as they couldn't do whatever they want in the meantime.

"So, how was your day without technology, Webs?" Wolf asked calmly to Tarantula.

"I'm starving. When's our table gonna be ready?" Tarantula asked while holding a menu.

"Ugh. It's a little hot in here, don't you think?" Shark felt like sweating.

"Ugh. Small talk makes me barf," Snake gagged as he got off the couch, and slithered off, "Tell Hornet I'm…"

Just then, Piranha grabbed Snake by the tail, and threw him back on the couch with Shark and Tarantula, and Wolf backed away just a little while holding his clipboard.

"Listen up, you picky hermanos!" Piranha yelled while putting a foot on the table, "This week isn't about what you want to do or not do!"

"Get off it, Piranha. You suck at this," Snake commented.

"Screw you, Snake!" Piranha grabbed Snake by his shirt, and shouted at his face, "This is about having the time of our lives that we could move on from what happened last night!" Piranha pushed Snake back on the couch as his voice calmed, "So, when our guest of honor comes back from changing his clothes, you better participate, you better smile, and you better start drinking like your life depends on it!"

"You know, Hornet doesn't drink," Shark reminded.

"I don't care!" Piranha shouted.

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At night, the Bad Guys had a "nice relaxing" dinner. Their seat was beside the window, just to see the view of the dark beach with a lot of people trying to enjoy the cold breeze.

"This is divine. I don't miss the meat," Snake said in a wooden tone

"Me too, totally the best," Tarantula added with a sarcastic voice.

"I haven't even thought about that night. Only the fact that Hornet is still alive," Shark added, trying to go with the flow.

"Yay, cheers for Hornet!" Tarantula lifted her glass up

"And to Wolf, for making this whole week possible, I guess," Snake mentioned.

"And don't forget, Piranha, guys. He also wanted this, and encouraged me to go with the plan, so cheers for him too," Wolf mentioned nervously, not wanting to get on Pirnaha's bad side.

"To having fun on our friends' fun trip!" Piranha rasied his own glass up.

The rest of the Bad Guys raised their glass up, and all of them clang them together.

"Wow. Every one of my best friends is having fun," Hornet smiled warmly, "You guys have done the impossible."

Wolf then extended his arm at the approaching waitress to get his attention, and asked his friends, "Who wants to look at a dessert menu?

"Is there anything to do around here besides relax?" Tarantula asked in boredom.

"Oh, of course," The waitress answered smilingly, "There was hiking, swimming, zip lining, and there was a nightclub called The Club Chi, and…"

"We're doing that," Wolf said.

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The Bad Guys went to nightclub where the Bad Guys had been drinking all night. And now, they were dancing like the night lasted forever. Snake, shark, and Tarantula were already drunk, but still going on dancing with loud music playing and lasers lights shooting everywhere.

"This is the best night of my life!" Shark yelled, not minding his drink spilled from the glass.

"I wish this night never ends!" Tarantula screamed as she balanced off from Shark's shoulder, and fell down on the ground.

While his friends were having a great time, Wolf was pickpocketing other customers while they were drunk and dancing.

While Wolf was counting money, Hornet jumped on Wolf's shoulder with Piranha next to them, "Oh, stinger! Bad Guys for life! This is so fun! We should do this again once in a while! Oh, I know, we should have team tattoos! Who wants that, huh? Who wants tattoos?!"

Wolf noticed that Hornet was almost drunk, so he quickly walked away with the things he pickpocket from the other customers.

Now that they were dancing alone together, Hornet said aloud to Piranha from the flooding loud noises, "I know you made everyone pretend to have fun at the restaurant, you know, but, like, now they actually are. You did that. You always go the extra mile for me."

"Of course, Hornet. I'm your best friend," Piranha smiled.

"You are my best friend," Hornet replied.

The two just stared into each other's eyes with smiles on their faces…

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Hornet was sleeping soundly on the bed. But when he shifted to his side, Piranha was sleeping next to him. The two Bad Guys woke up to find each other on the same bed, looking surprised. They even discovered they were half-naked in bed as the blankets covered most of their bodies.

"Oh, shoot. This is really…," Piranha facepalmed in shame, "All right, listen to me. We shouldn't have done this. We should not have done this," the fish quickly jumped off the bed.

"The mind-blowing make-out or the staying over?" Hornet asked as he tried to find his shirt.

"The all of it. The all of it," Piranha answered.

Hornet finally found her shirt, "Right, of course. And, you know, we don't want it to happen again…"

"No! No! No, we do not. Never," Piranha said while putting his shirt and his suspenders on.

Luckily, Hornet still had his undershirt on, but there was no reason his life gem couldn't be exposed. Everyone, even Piranha, knew about it already, but he kept it hidden just to be comfortable. Hornet put his shirt on, and continued to agree with Piranha, "Obviously. That would be awkward and derail future plans. Plus, you know, there's no room in the itinerary for…"

But he was interrupted when Hornet heard the door closed. Piranha already left the room.

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Piranha marched down the hallway quietly and tried not to think about what happened last night. Hornet quickly followed him as he tried to reason with him.

"We made another mistake. No big deal, we were drunk. We're friends! We have a working relationship. We can get past this. It's gonna be fine!"

But Piranha ignored him as he wanted to escape this awkward moment as soon as possible. Finally, Piranha arrived at the counter.

"Oh, good morning, Mr…" The counter lady greeted.

"I need to get out of here," Piranha didn't let the counter lady finish her greetings as he was in a hurry to ask what he needed.

"He needs to get out of here," Hornet repeated Piranha's words, until he realized what he just said, "Wait, what? Are you... Are you sure?"

"So sorry, but there's no way off the island today," the counter lady explained, "All of the ferries were unavailable."

"Well, is there a small boat? A plane? Is there a fisherman? A trawler?" Piranha asked for other transportation.

"Yes, look for boats and planes," Hornet demanded.

"Oh, unfortunately, no," the counter lady chuckled awkwardly.

Piranha sighed stressully, "Hornet, I messed up, okay? I will be in my room until this vacation is over."

As Piranha headed in the direction of his room, Hornet watched him with guilt. This wasn't what he had in mind for their vacation. It was supposed to be a fun time with his friends. But instead, the fun time became another awkward moment between him and Piranha. This was so messed up!

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While Hornet was flying down the hallway, Wolf came out of his room, and started gloating, "Hmm. Wild night, huh?"

"Oh. Nothing gets by your wolf instincts," Hornet deadpanned.

"Or through paper-thin walls," Wolf pointed at the walls

"I messed up. The feelings didn't go away, and now Piranha's upset," Hornet nearly sobbed, "You've known him the longest. What should I do?"

"Don't look at me. Shark's known him the longest," Wolf pointed at Shark across the hallway, who was sleeping while holding a bottle of wine, "See you at brunch, Hornet," the Bad Guy leader said before walking down the hallway.

Since Hornet was already in front of Piranha's door, he got a chance to talk to him about what happened last night. But Piranha already sensed his presence. He's his best friend. He could sense him.

"I... I need to be alone right now," the little fish said.

The insect leaned his back against the door, and said, "Piranha, look. You're here, you're queer, get used to it. Let's enjoy the rest of the weekend."

"Hornet, that was a huge mistake, okay? And nothing like that can ever happen again," Piranha told his friend with a tone of shame.

"Totally. Look, the first time was when confessed our feelings. The second time we were

drunk. It's a two-time thing. Well, a four-time thing within a two-time thing," Hornet then sighed as he changed back to the real subject of why they were here for a vacation in the first place, "Look, we all came all this way to spend time together. Plus, we still have a lot of things to do in Wolf's list of fun! Come on, Piranha. This week can't end like this. I just want to have a perfect vacation with my best friends. We'll forget last night ever happened."

Piranha made a lot of thoughts about it, and Hornet was right. Piranha was the one who agreed with Wolf about this whole vacation thing. And now they were here in Santa Catalina Island, there was no way of quitting anymore. They were not here to just stay in their rooms to mope around. They were here for a vacation, including Piranha.

Piranha finally opened the door, but left just a narrow opening, "Yeah, I... I'll come out. Let me just... Let me put on my underwear."

"Yeah. Here, it... it was in my room," Hornet pulled out Piranha's underwear.

Piranha just stick his hand out, and took his underwear from Hornet. Even though it was awkward, he appreciated his best friends helping him with that.

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Later, in the dining room, the Bad Guys were having brunch, but Snake, shark, and Tarantula were still feeling nauseous from feeling drunk since last night.

"Ugh. I'm so hungover," Tarantula groaned while trying to eat a hard-boiled egg, "I need another mimosa, I think.

"All right, guys. Listen up," Wolf announced as he took out his clipboard, "Since we wasted our day complaining and drinking yesterday, so today, we have to do all of our activities on this list. So, after our brunch, the first activity we'll do is… golf!"

The other Bad Guys groaned in boredom, but Shark was excited about this activity. Golf was his idea after all.

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Later, at the gold field, Shark swung his putter, and let the golf fly into the air. But he realized he was the only one playing golf. It was kinda boring.

He turned around, and asked, "You're sure nobody else wants to play golf?"

The rest of the Bad guys were in a golf cart, reading brochures and magazines as they answered in unison, "Nah!"

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Next on the list of activities was playing with marine animals. Though, Shark and Piranha were already considered as "marine animals", they were going to meet non-anthropomorphic animals, which were very different from our aquatic Bad Guys.

"All right, everybody. We have an hour and 20 minutes to meet and greet over 57 varieties of marine life," Wolf announced as the other Bad Guys agreed to do this thing.

The Bad Guys were having a good time. They were playing with the dolphins and long-finned pilot whales.

Snake was riding on a whale as he had his body tied around its dorsal fin so he won't fall off the sea mammal.

"Shark, get a picture!" Snake shouted.

Shark was at the pier, holding the camera, "Tell him to swim more to his left!"

"It's a killer whale. You tell him," Snake said as the whale blew its blowhole, sprinkling some air and water.

Piranha was at the dock, eating sardines, when a dolphin approached to him, rubbing its snout on his shirt. Piranha knew the dolphin wanted his fish so he threw one on the dolphin before awarding himself with another fish.

Tarantula and Hornet got a chance to "meet and greet" with the other dolphins as they approached them closer to the water. Wolf held the camera to capture the moment.

Tarantula found herself a dolphin as she stood on top of it, and hang onto its dorsal fin. Hornet did the same when he got himself his own dolphin. The two dolphins started to swim, giving the two bugs a ride. Tarantula and Hornet were having a great time with the dolphin as they hung on real tight.

When the dolphins swam to the edge of the pier, Tarantula and Hornet hopped back on land, and Wolf and Shark captured the whole scene on tape.

Wolf's watch suddenly beeped, and declared, "Okay, time's up. Everybody out of the pool," when he blew the whistle, three dolphins jumped out of the water, and dove back, "Not you guys!"

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The next activity was kayaking. Each kayak could hold just two people. Since three of the Bad Guys were small and light, they were paired with the bigger Bad Guys. Tarantula was with Wolf, Piranha was with Snake, and Hornet was with Shark. Each pair participated in the paddling as this activity was about teamwork.

"Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!" Each "stroke" came with a paddle to make the boats move.

Suddenly, Shark noticed the same waitress he saw at the hotel yesterday. She was riding a bike down the road, and waved smilingly at Shark.

"My girl!" Shark screamed as he jumped off the boat, leaving just Hornet on it, and swam towards the shore to catch up with his dream girl.

"Shark! Swimming is tomorrow from 9 to 10:15!" Wolf shouted, lifting his clipboard up.

But Shark ignored Wolf as he stayed focused on chasing his dream girl. When he looked on, the waitress disappeared without a trace. Shark became devastated, and cried, "She's gone! And I'm alone. And I'm wet," he swam back to the kayak sadly.

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Later, the Bad Guys were now fishing as they stood at the harbor, and had their materials ready for fishing. Once they were ready, Wolf, Snake, Shark, and Tarantula threw the line of their fishing pole, and started fishing. Piranha and Hornet did the same, but they were next to each other, so they wouldn't concentrate on fishing if they couldn't stop thinking about each other, and their night-stand.

Since they were a little far from the other Bad Guys, Hornet had a chance to talk with Piranha privately.

"Hey, Piranha. I'm sorry what happened last night," the insect spoke silently.

"It's alright, Hornet. It's okay," Piranha answered quickly as he didn't want to make this subject a long talk.

"No, it wasn't. I feel guilty. Sure we told each other how we felt the night before, and we kissed, but I don't want to take advantage of it," Hornet explained while still holding on to his pole.

Piranha sighed, and admitted, "Me either, bud. I guess we were obsessed with our feelings, we got drunk, and crazy things happened."

Hornet chuckled, "Yeah, it was really crazy, but… do you think this all happened because… we're not a thing?"

Piranha thought about it. It might be obvious. Some feelings kept bottling up until alcohol did the job for them. But he didn't want to believe that, "No. It can't be."

"Yeah, you're right. It is crazy. I'm sorry I asked that." Hornet nodded in agreement, until he felt the line of his pole was pulled down deeper into the water. Hornet grabbed his pole tightly, and tried to pull it up, "I got something."

When Hornet tried to pull as hard as he could, his catch was stronger than him and he was almost dragged down the water. Piranha caught him in time along with his pole, "I got you, Hornet!" He helped Hornet pull his catch, and reeled it in. The other Bad Guys caught their attention as they left their poles hanging, and helped Piranha and Hornet pull the catch from the water.

Finally, the fish was pulled out of the water where it was dangled by the hook, and it was trying to squirm free.

"Alright!" Snake exclaimed.

"Good job, Hornet!" Wolf cheered.

"I knew you could do it, little buddy!" Shark gently rubbed Hornet's scalp with his thumb.

While the other Bad Guys were happy for Hornet catching a fish, the insect was only focused on Piranha, who smiled proudly at him. Hornet appreciated his help with the fish. That was why he still fell in love with him.

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When the night came, the Bad Guys carried their fishing equipment along with the fish they caught as they headed away from the harbor.

"Alright, Wolf, it's almost night, where should we head off now?" Snake asked.

Wolf took out his clipboard, and looked through it before smirking, "Well, I didn't list up the activities for the night, so…"

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Moments later, the Bad Guys attended a loud and crazy beach party. Like last night, all they did was eat, dance, and drink. Even Wolf had to drink a little since he was busy pickpocketing the other night. He and Snake were drinking together before passing out.

Piranha and Hornet were standing beside the drink station, watching their friends having a good party.

Hornet got himself and Piranha small cups of their drink as the former handed one cup to the latter, "Are you having fun?"

"I'm just glad you talked me into coming back out," Piranha happily accepted a cup, "You know, it's like, aside from the horrible mistake that we made earlier, this had been the best vacation I had yet. I mean, relaxation, partying, actions. I mean, man, I never had this fun with you guys, especially you Hornet."

"You're easy to celebrate."

"And you're fun to celebrate with."

Once again, Piraha and Hornet stared at each other happily…

Piranha was sleeping soundly on the bed. When he shifted to his right, there was Hornet sleeping next to him… again. When the two woke and opened their eyes, they let out a shocking screamed, and backed away a bit without falling off the bed. Luckily, their clothes were still on, but the bed and blankets were all crumbled. Even a few bottles were on the bed. Piranha and Hornet started to groan, mumble, and chatter disgustingly, angrily, and embarrassingly. Their faces also blushed while doing so.

"Oh, no, no, no…!"

"Oh, stinger no…!"

"I can't…! What is wro…?! How can I…?! Ay caramba! We have talked about this! We cannot do this again! We just said that we weren't gonna do it, and then we did it again!" Piranha shouted while having his hands on his head.

"You're right! You're totally right! We can't do this! We can't…" Hornet pulled his antennae before stopping himself, "Wait, why can't we do this?"

"Because, you're my best friend, and I can't stand the idea of losing you. You know, I… I…" Piranha said, but Hornet flew next to his shoulder.

"You don't have to. We'll be closer than we ever been before. Well, not closer than last night. I mean, that was crazy," Hornet admitted.

"Yeah, that was crazy," Piranha murmured.

"Do you wanna feel this way all the time? Our whole lives could be going around the world, stealing stuff together, doing destruction, helping each other out, helping the rest of the team, partying, getting free stuff? It will be so fun… I love you," Hornet confessed as Piranha smiled warmly, but he looked down and frowned doubtfully. Seeing this, Hornet knew Piranha might have second thoughts as he flew towards the desk just under the TV on the wall, "You know, I'm glad we're alone together here, 'cause there's something I want to talk to you about. I remember what you said to me last night. And the other night"

"Okay, well, you're gonna have to remind me what I said because I don't exactly remember much of anything last night unless it's really weird, and then maybe I don't wanna know," Piranha chuckled. He didn't remember what he said last night, only just partial moments before he and Hornet went to sleep. He tried to put his shoe on, but it fell back on the floor. Hornet giggled about it, but Piranha felt nervous, "Oh, no. I... I said something weird, didn't I?"

"Uh… uh…" Hornet stammered, but he was cut off.

"Look, we were feeling doozy that night! We drank a lot! T-Those were fragments of my subconscious mind!" Piranha laughed nervously, trying not to let Hornet remind him, "I don't wanna know!"

"Piranha," Hornet declared, "You told me you loved me."

Piranha made a blank, wide-eyed stare as he was frozen in shock for a couple of seconds.

"Ah… Okay…" He broke the silence until he was hyperventilating, and covered his face with his hands in shame.

Hornet then flew towards Piranha's lap to comfort him, "Maybe it was just a fragment of your subconscious mind, but—"

"No, it's... It's not a fragment of anything. That's the whole me," Piranha admitted, still feeling ashamed, "You know, when I told you that I might have feelings for you since we accidentally… 'date'? In that online dating? Well, it's... it's baloney. I've felt like this since the beginning when we took you in. I mean, I-I'm not a little boy. I know that you don't just fall in love at first sight. The way I feel has just gotten more intense since we first met. And it was intense at the start, and I know it's in the way."

"In the way? Piranha, why does it have to be bad?"

"It is bad if you don't want it."

Couldn't wait any longer, Hornet flew up to Piranha's face with a smirk, "Okay, can we kiss again?"

Piranha was surprised by this, but he answered, "Uhh... please."

Hornet crashed his lips to Piranha's as he tried to make things uncomfortable between them. Piranha tried to relax while letting Hornet rest his lips on his. They stayed like this for several seconds as Piranha carefully and gently place one hand on Hornet's back, and Hornet extended one arm on Piranha's cheek.

The two then pulled away while staring at each other happily and lovingly.

"Piranha... I want you to love me... because I love you," Hornet cooed.

Piranha then brought Hornet up between his eyes to have their foreheads touch against each other, and had them both staring at each other's eyes.

"Should we… tell the guys?" Piranha asked.

"Umm, maybe not yet. Don't ruin this for us and them," Hornet said as he flew down to Piranha's right shoulder, and hugged him below his cheek, and Piranha hugged him back with his arms very gently.

They won't know what their future would become, but they knew it'll be brighter and better.

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Credits:

Sam Rockwell - Mr. Wolf

Marc Maron - Mr. Snake

Craig Robinson - Mr. Shark

Anthony Ramos - Mr. Piranha

Awkwafina - Ms. Tarantula

Rhenzy Feliz - Mr. Hornet

Jameela Jamil - Waitress #2

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Author Aggimaginary

Co-Author TU4QU0I53T4IAN6L3

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So you're a tough guy Like it really rough guy Just can't get enough guy Chest always so puffed guy I'm that bad type

Make your mama sad type Make your girlfriend mad tight Might seduce your dad type I'm the bad guy

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The entire chapter was a reference to Harley Quinn: The Bachelorette, Full House: Tanner's Island, and Star vs the Forces of Evil: Here To Help.

I can't believe I had Piranha and Hornet having a "night-stand" even though it's hard to imagine it.

Well, we are so close to the end! Stay tune, everyone!

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bugscrew-diary · 1 year

Text

I have been away.

A lot has happened since I last wrote a post here. It has been 3 weeks now. I actually wrote a chunk of a post about the kinds of crazy dreams I have, but I didn't finish it so it's just in my drafts now. There definitely is a reason for my initial neglect towards writing posts, but the extended absence is just a product of me breaking the habit of writing every day before it even had a chance to form. I don't really need to expand on that though, because I've talked about the problem of my habits in an earlier post.

The initial absence was caused by the unfortunate fact that I gave myself a little bit of weed induced psychosis. The actual weed psychosis part sucked but really, the bad part was the week long battle with debilitating anxiety and mild psychotic delusions that followed. It got a little better every day, but the first few days were excruciating. I couldn't do anything without it causing a panic attack. However, I think it was worse the first few days because the main source of the anxiety was that I thought I just fucked my brain forever and I was just going to have horrible anxiety and moderate psychosis for the rest of my life. It went away though, so I'm back.

I wanted to write about all of it the first day after it happened, but I couldn't even text my friends a brief, just one-sentence explanation for what happened without triggering a new panic attack. Writing a whole post about it was definitely out of the question, especially because I still believed some of the delusions caused by the psychosis and I felt anxious about the fact that I would be writing about things that I knew weren't true but still somewhat believed. But the anxiety is gone now and I feel inclined to write about the experience and what it felt like to have MIP, a random acute anxiety disorder, and delusions that genuinely scared me.

It started after getting way too high and seeing a tweet about Lily Rose Depp. I didn't know what she looked like, but I know people think she's pretty so I was curious to look at her instagram. I scrolled through a few pictures and quickly became infatuated with the fact that you couldn't see her neck in most of the pictures, and if you could, some other part of her body that I can't remember anymore was covered. It's a weird thing to become fixated on, but I did and the more I scrolled, the more my suspicion was confirmed. I believed she wasn't real. I thought she was some kind of doll or mannequin, being placed in different outfits and poses for pictures. This then sent me down a spiral, believing that no celebrity was real and they were all these mannequins that just get toted around for pictures. I still don't know why, but this thought scared me and led to the craziest panic attack since my shrooms trip went bad, and it actually might have been worse than that.

I finally calmed myself down after about 2 or 3 hours of trying, walking around in my house, seemingly in the clear only to go back to my bed and have another panic attack. I thought I was gonna be like that forever, but after a few hours of spiraling, I realized that I was not in the headspace to be deciding whether I thought that was true. I finally somehow calmed myself down enough to sleep and decided to deal with it in the morning. When I woke up, the first few hours were okay, but then I quickly realized it was just as bad as the night before and I was having constant panic attacks all day. This made the thought that I was stuck like this forever even worse because it was seemingly being proven by the fact that this was now a 2 day ordeal. Plus, I still believed the delusions that I also simultaneously knew weren't true. It's a weird thing to experience, wholeheartedly believing that something could be true when you also wholeheartedly understand it to be factually untrue. It's especially strange when that thought is unsettling or even anxiety-inducing for absolutely no reason.

I think this was all so scary for me because my brain doesn't typically operate emotionally and especially not anxiously anymore. I used to have pretty severe anxiety about everything, but now I think of myself as an extremely rational person. This doesn't mean smarter, I just mean I tend to lead with logic (or attempted logic if my conclusion is wrong, I suppose), rather than emotion. It is very rare that I make a decision, big or small, by way of emotion. It is even rarer that I don't take something I perceived and mentally expand upon it until I've drained all the intellectual life out of it, or I get distracted by something else. Both of these processes were smashed to pieces for almost a week straight because 1) the conclusions I would come to when I would try to expand upon something were completely illogical and deluded and I knew it, and 2) I was completely unable to mentally expand upon anything without it triggering some amount of anxiety because of that, but I was still trying because this is just how I operate. It's not even really "trying," it just happens.

To be fair, the reason the psychotic delusions stayed bad was because they were triggered by the Coffeezilla video about the IShowSpeed crypto scam situation. The part that brought the anxiety back was the fact that he brought a fake Cristiano Ronaldo on stream to promote the scam he was a part of. This was literally my fake celebrity delusion from being put into real life practice, right in front of me, literally 12 hours after it spawned in my mind. This situation genuinely made me anxious almost every day for over a week after the initial break, but honestly I think that was warranted considering what an insane fucking coincidence that was. I ended up watching a bunch more Coffeezilla videos after that though, which is really cool because he's genuinely a great YouTube journalist and it's nice to have that now.

The true saviors of that week were TMG, though. Their podcast has been my go-to safe media for over 3 years now. It might even be 4 at this point. Even on the initial panic attack night, where nothing seemed to be able to make it stop, I used their podcast to help calm down and it actually worked for a little bit. It completely worked every single day I had anxiety after the first night until it finally went away. If I need something to fall asleep to, it's always them. I don't know what it is about them that is so comforting to me, but they encapsulate and deliver true calmness for me. I listen to both podcasts every week and it's still not enough. I've never stuck with a content creator like I've stuck with them and it's not even through any effort. They're just part of my routines now. I appreciate them so much and I hope I have the money to go to one of Noel's comedy shows soon.

Anyway, I think I've said enough considering I'm going on tangents now but I'll have more to say tomorrow or the next day because I have a job interview and my friend who lives far away now is coming home tomorrow. Plus, I didn't even write about how I bumped my car into someone else's 2 days ago and I'm being unjustly held liable for damages I didn't cause <333.

Also, it'll be a slightly more difficult post, and it'll probably take me a few days to write, but I want to write about stan culture and its relationship with mental health and now corporations. I'll be writing a fully fleshed out essay about it, but I don't have my thoughts organized at all, so I think a post on here will be a good place to start that. I also want to write a post about Charles Leclerc soon as cringe as it sounds but I have much to say about my own thoughts, my mindset surrounding him being an actually pretty good thing to frame it around so we'll see if my cringe detectors will let this one slide and let me post that to the internet when I finally write it.

Ok byeeeee.

#personal post #my thoughts #vent blog #vent #writer

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megs-on-legs · 2 years

Text

ramblings

I’m just sitting here with my swollen belly, reflecting after a nice meditation, just thinking about the life I have created. Suddenly I felt the urge to write. I don’t know of anyone who actually reads this, & I’ve barely even glanced at this blog in what feels like forever. I am remembering that it was once a mindless after work activity where I scrolled to decompress. That was before I started a family... & that’s the basis of this little rant.

I am just feeling so fortunate to be at this stage of my life... I really do think I will look back & smile at these precious memories & consider them the very best of my (hopefully long) life. Our tiny house with all of its imperfections, no budget to do what we want to do to it, all the while feeling the true definition of happiness.

Brodie & I talked about this the other day. Sometimes it feels like we can’t get ahead... not enough childcare to cover us both to work as much as we want, which sets back our money goals & then the rest of the projects & trips & fun lay dormant. The transition to parenthood is hard! It is also the happiest either of us have ever been. Isn’t that wild? I can’t put into words the fulfillment that becoming a mother has given me. I am so glad he shares this feeling as a father.

Several of my close friends have lost a parent within the last two years, & when I hear them explain how difficult their loss has been, it is a reminder to try to stay present. We don’t get to do this thing again. Iris is only this little for a brief time! Our son will be our last baby to meet after the magic of birth, to lose sleep over & gaze at in awe in those early days to come.

This whole circle of life thing has never been more clear to me. I know now that my parents love me unconditionally! Although I’ve “known” that, the overwhelming realization hit me like a ton of bricks when I met my kid. I imagine it is similar to grief. Holy shit, it is transformative. You hear about how much people love their kids, & quite frankly I was like “yeah yeah yeah”, but it is unlike anything else I can imagine. I feel like I am a part of a secret club where you just glance at another parent & they’re like “I know”! People couldn’t fully articulate their experience when I asked them about becoming a parent during my last pregnancy. Now I realize why. It is just something you simply can’t explain.

The biggest shift & the one I am most thankful for is the amount of growth required to be a good parent. I worried quite a bit about what I would miss if I had children. You know... sleep, freedom to choose your day to day, drop into a yoga class at leisure, actually say yes when someone asks if you want to get lunch that day, & so on. Then one day, you finally sleep a full 8 hours, slowly you start to get pieces of your old life back, you go on a girls trip & you get a babysitter for a night out. None of it has the same impact (except maybe sleep!) - I just think I’ve found some new priorities, I have outgrown parts of the old me, & the things that I did miss a lot are so much more gratifying when I find a slice of time to do them. Actually there is a whole new list of things I miss now - like my body being my own for one, but in time that will come back, too. I’ll have time for myself, to work & save money, maybe get that dream home we can remodel (all at once)!

The best part about all of the above is, I’ll have a family to share it with. & if I’ve learned anything from therapy, knowing this in the present & appreciating what you have is precisely what growth is. I thank Brodie, Iris & this baby in my belly for that ♥ I’m so glad we did this. Let the chaos continue!

#family

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yoursecondfirstlove · 2 years

Text

Apple of my eye (part 2)

Edward Nashton x F!Reader

Edward decides to deviate from his comfort zone a little this time by paying a little visit

Word count: 1250 words

PART 1 PART 3

Warnings: mention of drug use, mentions of trauma, female reader/(y/n)

(Y/n) woke up the next morning with the shallow hope that yesterdays ordeal was a dream, but she wasn’t so lucky. She threw her legs off the side of the bed and just sat there for a moment, recounting the conversation she had with the man who had been terrorising the city, the man who has killed before and expressed every intent of killing again.

He was near timid in their conversation, almost…sweet? (Y/n) quickly shook that idea out of her head, he was a killer. Killers aren’t sweet.

She rose from her bed and began to get ready for her day, when she was eating breakfast she had scrolled onto an article stating the somewhat safe return of the DAs kids. They were a little banged up, still sedated and definitely deeply scarred but with some bed rest and therapy paid for by their daddy they’d be fine. At least he had kept to his word.

She marched on readying herself from the day, washed her face, light makeup, threw on an outfit but it didn’t matter since she’d have to switch it out for her uniform the minute she got into work. On her walk to work she caught the sight of a few people giving her odd looks, not bad, mean or hateful, just looks that showed they knew her, they knew the Riddler had a school boy crush on her and god help her if he ever wants more than a FaceTime.

As she walked into work, as always she headed straight to the staff locker room, only for Dylan to barge in before she could even open her locker.

“What the motherFUCK are you doing here?” His tone was clearly laced with concern. “Getting ready for my shift?” Dylan scoffed throwing his hands up and bringing them to his face. “Bitch. you were made Skype with a murderer to resolve a hostage situation and now you’re just trying to come here like nothing happened?” “It wasn’t Skype, who the fuck uses Skype anymore?” He dropped his hands and leaned towards her “I am begging you to take the day off, go the fuck home!” (Y/n) braced her hand on her locker, she appreciated Dylan’s concern, she did. In the short time he’d worked there he’d been nothing but sweet to her, sure he always smoked weed on his breaks, and before his shifts, and sometimes in the freezer when things were slow but he did his job well enough, he was just about 19, a sweet kid, he had began to latch onto (y/n) like she was a big sister which is precisely why he was so frustrated with her not taking the time to herself that she so clearly needs.

“Look..Dylan” she grabbed his arms by his elbows and look right at him “look at me. I’m fine! Honestly I think continuing like it never happened is the best thing for me right now” Dylan’s eyebrows creased, he had clear signs of doubt in his face and he still wore a look of concern to top it off. He sighed heavily “okay…” he dropped his head from her gaze. “Yeah, yeah okay… but the second I see you getting overwhelmed at all I will drag you home if I have to” (y/n) smiled at that, he really was a sweet kid.

Dylan had left her to get changed. (Y/n) quickly shimmied out of the thrown on outfit and into her frumpy baby blue and white uniform. She walked into the kitchen to brew the cheap coffee they gave to their customers, she could feel Dylan keeping an eye on her from his dishwashing station. This was going to be a theme today she could feel it.

Another one of the waitresses, Amber, entered the kitchen. Amber was a customer favourite, cute, energetic, incredibly friendly and while she certainly was all these things, all the time, she’d be lying if she said every time she forced a smile and fake laughed for customers a part of her soul didn’t die. “Hey pretty baby, how are you” her voice laced with concern and sympathy as she wrapped her slender arms around (y/n)’s neck in a tight embrace. (Y/n) smiled and returned the hug gladly “I’m okay gorgeous, just getting though the day as normal” Amber pulled back, taking (y/n)s face in her hands “if you need anything, anything at all, let me know right away! Okay?” (Y/n) nodded tiredly.

Honestly (y/n) loved it here, she loved her coworkers, she loved her routine, she even loved the greasy food from the diner she got to eat for free. If only she could do something about these fucking customers.

The day revolves as normal and (y/n) can already feel herself relaxing in the familiarity of it all. She was dropping dishes back to Dylan to be cleaned when Amber had slunk into the kitchen. “Strange white man on the stools, I am now fearing for my life” Amber said deadpan. (Y/n) whipped around to give Amber a strange look, it wasn’t uncommon of Amber to make snide remarks about the men who entered the diner but she already knew most of them so hearing her unable to refer to a customer by name was strange.

“What’s wrong with him?” (Y/n) questioned. “I mean….nothing? I see him sometimes, he seems harmless but dude gives me the heebies” “the heebies?” Amber looked to the side, sticking her bottom lip out slightly as she brought her eyebrows together “ya know…” she wriggles her finger in an odd manner before exclaiming “the heebies!”

“Yeah okay… I’ll go take his order you can stay back here I guess” Amber stopped her before she walked out “you’re the love of my life babes””okay”

(Y/n) walked up to the man sat on the stool, he was making intense eye contact with the counter as soon as he noticed her approaching, he began playing with his fingers nervously. “Hi! What can I get you started with today?” (Y/n) asked in her usual, chipper, customer service voice. The man pried his gaze up to meet her, once she got a proper look at him he was actually quite cute, despite the whole deer in headlights thing he had going on. Sandy blondish hair, green eyes and clear framed glasses that hung off his nose a little, he had to rush to push them back in place when he looked up at her. “I-uh-yeah-can I uh-can I get-uhh-just a cappuccino and some-some pumpkin pie…Please! Uh please…” he nervously shoved his hands into his lap as he spoke, fighting every instinct in his body just to maintain his eyes on her face. She smiled warmly “‘course, that’ll be right out!” She spun and walked back into the kitchen just as quickly as she had arrived.

She made quick work of preparing his order in the kitchen, cutting and placing a slice of the pie in the microwave and getting to work on the coffee. “Are you thoroughly heebied?” Dylan asked, shit eating grin on his face as he tossed a glance to Amber, to which she graciously offered her middle finger. “No! No fuck you” Amber quickly defended “I get it, dude is probably harmless but like…all he does is stare, it just makes me uncomfortable” (y/n) chuckled at their bickering. “I have received no heebies, nor jeebies in fact” she said finishing up the cappuccino. “In fact, I think he seems kinda sweet”

Sweet…there was that word again

#the batman #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #the riddler #the riddler x reader #paul dano riddler #paul dano #x reader

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yellowocaballero · 3 years

Text

Obi-Wan’s a teen dad and Anakin DESPERATELY wants to do crime

A week after Obi-Wan formally took Anakin as his padawan, he left his quarters.

It hadn’t been Obi-Wan’s intention to spend a week lying in bed - or, at times, lying on the living room floor. Or staring blankly at the stove, or holding a toothbrush as he forgot what he was supposed to do with it. It had been his intention to handle the new...arrangements. Put on a brave face. Take care of business. There was so much to do, and Obi-Wan really did want to do it. But he stood in front of the stove staring at its knobs instead, lost.

Anakin had been a good sport about it, at least. He figured out alarmingly quickly how to work the stove and fry up the sliced fruit in their cupboards. Anakin didn’t understand that you didn’t fry fruit, but Obi-Wan ate it with little complaint. He put food in front of Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan ate it. When Anakin asked him, somewhat fearfully, how to use the shower, Obi-Wan showed him and then took one himself. After the third day he left the living quarters semi-frequently, which would have been worrying if Obi-Wan cared.

Obi-Wan’s depressed, grieving, and has an inferiority complex the size of an Alderaanian mountain. Anakin doesn’t know what’s happening, but he does know that the power grid failure was not his fault. Can Obi-Wan ever be a true Jedi and a competent master? Or is his backstory, as told by the Jedi Apprentice novels, too fucking weird?

Rest under the cut.

A week after Obi-Wan formally took Anakin as his padawan, he left his quarters.

On day six, Obi-Wan worked up the energy to turn on his datapad, and was promptly bombarded with messages. They scrolled down the screen, a new one popping up every second.

A lot of them were from his automated specialized education classes. Obi-Wan had finished the required padawan courses when he was sixteen, breezing through each course at his own pace virtually during downtime in transit and on missions. He had signed up for some Knight-level specialized education courses afterwards, loading as many on his plate as he could and managing special permission to complete them all virtually too. Apparently, he had a great deal of assignments due.

Many messages from the Temple administration. Notification for mandatory forms to complete for requisitions, medical care...reports on the Naboo mission...a mountain of forms to complete for the promotion...a mountain of forms for the new padawan...a mountain of forms for processing Qui-gon’s death.

Messages from his friends. How are you doing, Obi-Wan? Are you okay, Obi-Wan? Can we come over and talk, Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan, you stupid bastard, how dare you fight a Sith without me?

Disturbingly, even the master of mission assignments had messaged him. Xe wanted to know if Obi-Wan was going to file for extended reprieve from missions to train his underage padawan in the Temple, or if he wanted to continue taking missions. Decide quickly, Knight Kenobi. Xe are willing to grant three years of light to no missions to help ‘facilitate Padawan Skywalker’s integration into the Jedi’.

The thought made Obi-Wan dizzy. No missions for years? He and Qui-Gon had barely gone weeks without a mission. But Obi-Wan had been thirteen, and Qui-Gon had a particular talent of taking an assignment to mediate standard legislative disputes and turn it into a three month embroilment in an endangered animal trafficking scheme. Staying stuck in the Temple for that amount of time made his skin crawl. Staying at home in the Temple so Anakin could integrate into the Jedi, become the Jedi he dreamed of...

Obi-Wan turned off the pad and tossed it across the room, letting it land on Qui-gon’s private meditation mat. Somehow, he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

Five hours later, Obi-Wan dragged himself out of Qui-gon’s room to find Anakin lying on the floor with what looked like an entire droid disassembled over the carpet. He was kicking his feet in the air, lying on his stomach, stripping some frayed wire.

Obi-Wan stared at him blankly, forms dancing behind his eyes. Anakin needed clothing. They had already processed him through his vaccinations - thank hell - and prescribed him some antibiotics for his multitude of intestinal parasites, but there was no way he was taking the pills. He needed to teach him how to braid the padawan braid. He needed to get them some food for the cabinets. He needed to…

“Are you hungry?” Obi-Wan rasped. His hair felt disgusting.

Anakin’s head snapped up, eyes widening. He scrambled off the rug, brushing a suspicious amount of dirt off his knees. “Yeah! I’ll make us that green thing!”

He shouldn’t let the nine year old work the stove. But Obi-Wan let him anyway, as he managed to somehow dump water in the kettle and place it on the stove, standing beside Anakin and waiting for it to whistle.

I must be doing very well, Obi-Wan thought hysterically, as he stared at the old-fashioned durasteel kettle that Qui-gon had favored. He was releasing his emotions into the Force with perfection. He wasn’t feeling anything at all. He wasn’t thinking about Qui-gon. He wasn’t thinking about anything at all. His mind was clear and empty, and he was perfectly at peace.

Obi-Wan tried to pour his tea, but he just couldn’t move. He stood and stared at the kettle for so long that Anakin eventually walked in and, straining on his tiptoes, sloshed the steaming water into the plastic white cup.

***

On day seven, Obi-Wan managed to wrangle both himself and Anakin into some semblance of hygiene and clean clothes. Anakin needed a lot of help, which clearly embarrassed him, but Obi-Wan was too dead inside to be frustrated about it.

He ended up tying his obi for him, as Anakin wriggled and tried to turn around to see it on the back. He’d have to show him how to do it himself later, but that was for later.

“Why do I have to wear this?” Anakin whined. “It’s so heavy.”

“I’ll see if I can requisition you an outfit with less layers,” Obi-Wan said. A lighter outfit wouldn’t cut it, as Anakin had ramped up the temperature controls in their quarters a week ago and the rooms haven’t dipped below boiling ever since. “Hold still. Hold - hold still, please.”

“What does requisition mean?”

Anakin held still eventually. He managed to untie the obi in the first ten minutes, but Obi-Wan really couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Then they had to worry about brushing their teeth, and Obi-Wan had to teach him how to do that, and why was this so hard, why was everything so hard -

But when Obi-Wan eventually got them both out the door, he found no relief.The Temple felt different. Obi-Wan didn’t know how; just that it did. It was identical in every worldly way, yet mismatched in the Force. As if it was a different Temple, a pale echo from another dimension, that was the home of a different Obi-Wan. Or maybe Obi-Wan was different: maybe his Force signature was so warped and polluted that he tainted everywhere he went.

They were all parts of the great whole of the Force. The Force was composed of every Jedi, every sentient being and eddy of wind. There were tens of thousands of Jedi in this Temple - how could the death of one man change it so thoroughly? Or had it just changed Obi-Wan?

Somewhat suspiciously, Anakin seemed to know the way out of the dormitories and into the main thoroughfare of the building. Obi-Wan kept a death grip on his little hand the entire time, slowing his steps so Anakin could keep up without having to jog. It didn’t stop him from trying to run forward every few steps, only for Obi-Wan to gently tug him back.

“You weren’t supposed to run around the Temple by yourself,” Obi-Wan said flatly. Anakin grinned sheepishly, in what Obi-Wan was already beginning to recognize as his ‘Busted!’ face.

“Why not?”

“You could have gotten lost.”

“I did get lost,” Anakin said proudly. “But then I found a secret service tunnel for the droids and I crawled through it and I found a server room and -” He stopped abruptly. “But that was way after the power outage yesterday. That I had nothing to do with.”

Obi-Wan...should probably care about this.

He didn’t. He was too busy releasing his emotions into the Force, and returning his dark thoughts to the Force, and maintaining complete control over his body and spirit. There was no room in that for caring about Anakin, maybe, destroying the Temple.

Wasn’t he a teacher? Shouldn’t he be teaching?

“First rule of being a Jedi,” Obi-Wan said, exhausted, “learn to lie.”

There. That was a lesson. Qui-gon had said the same thing to him when he was fourteen. Obi-Wan was doing great at this. Anakin beamed and made a weird motion with his hand, clenching it into a fist and sticking his thumb out. Obi-Wan stared blankly at him until he put his hand down.

Maybe it was because Obi-Wan was releasing all of his feelings and thoughts into the Force so well, but he couldn’t help but feel a constant prickling at the back of his neck. It felt like everybody was looking at them. A group of gossiping knights downright stopped talking when they saw Obi-Wan and Anakin approaching, and they broke out into whispers when they left. Padawans and initiates openly stared. Masters were too polite to stare, but their interest clearly peaked in the Force.

By the time they got to the quartermaster’s and slid in line, Anakin was practically hiding behind Obi-Wan. Anakin had likely gone his entire life without anybody noticing him, blending into the background. Obi-Wan had learned almost a decade ago that it was a useful survival tactic for slaves. Although how he had ever done it, Obi-Wan would never know. The boy was a sun in the Force. Blinding and burnt, as broiling as the temperature he kept their quarters at.

“Oh my. Padawan Kenobi, is that you?” Meela, the Quartermaster’s knight assistant, stopped and stared at both of them. She was carrying a large box of fabrics, and all of the other Jedi waiting in line stopped talking to crane their heads and stare too. “Oh! It’s knight now, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, before coughing. He hadn’t realized his voice was so hoarse - he hadn’t spoken to anybody but a nine year old in a week. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Meela.”

“Of course,” Meela said quickly. She was looking openly at Anakin, who was pointedly looking at Obi-Wan’s belt. “And you must be Anakin Skywalker! I had no idea you were so young. Is he even old enough to be a padawan, Knight Kenobi?”

“We determined that the creche wasn’t the best place for him.” Obi-Wan quickly grabbed his datapad, brought up the catalogue of items to requisition, and shoved it Anakin. “Pick out what we’re going to get. I’m certain you must be very busy, Knight Meela, so -”

“My, Padawan Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan refrained from gritting his teeth, before rotating on his heel. He stuck his hands in his sleeves, bowing to the aged Togrutan Jedi behind him. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Master Hashi.”

“My condolences for your master’s death,” Master Hashi said sympathetically. His watery old blue eyes were large and perfectly pitying. “It must be so difficult for you. And taking on a padawan so soon after your knighthood, as well.”

“He’s with the Force now,” Obi-Wan said. Smiling. He was smiling. Turn it down. Just a gentle smile. Remember Rishi. “But I appreciate your condolences.”

As it turns out, half the line just needed to express condolences for Master Jinn’s death, how sad, how tragic, how avoidable. He was so young. Obi-Wan was practically sweating by the time they got to the quartermaster’s desk, at which point he was promptly told that he was missing three forms.

Obi-Wan stood in front of the quartermaster’s desk, gripping Anakin’s hand in his, trying not to unwind. “But I filled out the application on the portal -”

“Yes, but you need your knight’s identification code,” the Quartermaster said briskly. “You input your padawan code.”

“How do I find out my knight’s identification code?”

“It should be on your identification card, son.”

“I was only knighted a week ago.” They were staring. They were all staring - “They haven’t issued me a card yet.”

“I’ll refer you to my assistant, Knight Kenobi.”

Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan’s sleeve. “Are we not getting my new clothing?”

A horrible tremor rose in Obi-Wan’s chest: a choking, sinking feeling. It crawled up his throat, making his trachea burn and his head pound. It felt like a balloon expanding, splintering his chest cavity and threatening to crack him apart.

Everybody was watching. They could not see it. Think about Rishi. Do not let them see it.

After fifteen humiliating minutes sitting at a sympathetic Meela’s desk, Obi-Wan finally managed to secure them some clothes. Anakin also received the standard pack of Jedi personal items, including his own toiletries and datapad. They secured an identification code for Anakin and input him into the database, and gave him his own lanyard and set of cards. Older Jedi tended to keep them in a hidden pocket in their robes, but for obvious reasons they affixed them to the neck of younger children.

But, without the identification code and five hundred more hoops, Obi-Wan couldn’t request a new living quarters and new furniture. He thanked Meela for her time anyway, stopped Anakin from attempting to requisition a B900-A40 droid with HyperFlex specs, and escaped something as simple as the Quartermaster’s trying to avoid rattling apart.

Obi-Wan only exhaled when they were outside, looking at his datapad and marking off the first line. The to-do list scrolled down the screen, and onto another page. Anakin was already shifting from foot to foot, bored.

“One down,” Obi-Wan said. “Three more.”

“Do we have to?” Anakin whined. “Why were the other Jedi so mean?”

Obi-Wan stopped short. He looked down at Anakin, who was fiddling with his obi again. “Stop messing with that. And they weren’t being mean, Anakin, they were just concerned.”

But Anakin just wrinkled his nose. “They were being mean. They were making you feel bad.”

How had he even - “If you keep quiet through the errands, you can have some fruit for lunch at the commissary.”

“Wizard!”

****

It quickly became obvious that nobody approved of Obi-Wan and Anakin.

Whispers followed them everywhere. Masters, old friends of Qui-gon, subtly disapproved of his choices. Which was nothing new - Obi-Wan had silently suffered almost everybody in the Temple disapproving of Qui-gon to him for years - but somehow it made Obi-Wan want to tear his hair out. The knights - the other knights - expressed incredulity that somebody knighted that morning received a padawan that afternoon. The padawans refused to even talk to Anakin, and he very quickly stopped trying.

Obi-Wan’s own friends...he did not have many. He was never in the Temple long enough to significantly interact or make connections with any other padawans or knights. He was never home for longer than a few weeks, and if he was planetside for longer than a month then it was because Qui-gon was recuperating from getting blown up when Obi-Wan hijacked a pirate ship and crash landed it on a small moon.

He used to have friends. Bant and Garen and Reeft and Siri...but a small and horrible part of Obi-Wan hated talking to them. A conversation with them always felt like they were trying to communicate with an Obi-Wan who hadn’t existed for a very long time, crying out over an impassable canyon. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan had begun resenting people who saw through him.

Anakin was a stubborn and implacable kid, but he was very perceptive. He clung tighter and tighter to Obi-Wan’s robes the further they walked into the temple, and eventually Obi-Wan had to disentangle him and give him a quick talk about appropriate behavior. It was his tenth talk to Anakin about appropriate behavior - about everything from using utensils to washing his hair - but this was the first time he seemed to understand why.

“So they don’t like you if you don’t do all the dumb stuff they do?”

“It’s not dumb,” Obi-Wan hissed. “And keep your voice down, this is a library.”

Judging from Anakin’s impressed gawking, this was his first time in a library. He clearly didn’t understand why they were supposed to be quiet either, and Obi-Wan was beginning to understand that Anakin refused to do anything unless you gave him a reason.

Obi-Wan carefully placed him in a small chair in the children’s section, in front of a brightly colored plastic table. Some other initiates were sitting around coloring, or working their way through children’s books. Anakin squinted up at him judgmentally as Obi-Wan frantically grabbed the clunky and friendly library datapad and scrolled through the catalogue until he found a likely suspect. Bugs of Rainforest Planets, light on the words, perfect.

“Just stay here until I come back,” Obi-Wan whispered, after a hurried explanation of why they were quiet in libraries. “Don’t leave this chair. Please.”

“I want more fruit,” Anakin warned.

“You will have more fruit. Now please don’t move.”

This was not how you Jedi masters taught padawans. This was not how it was supposed to work. Obi-Wan was not doing this right. He was doing this terribly. And everybody knew, and everybody was judging him.

The children’s librarian was a kind, plump older Twi’lek with long silver lekku down to her waist. Madame Hallan had been a personal favorite of Obi-Wan’s when he was a youngling, and he knew that she still had a soft spot for him. She was probably the only librarian who didn’t explicitly distrust him.

He easily kidnapped her for a meeting - or, maybe, she took one look at his face and kidnapped him - and she shepherded him into her office. He had never been inside, and Obi-Wan felt weirdly on the other end of the fence of his childhood. It was bright and cheerful and had datapads scattered everywhere with tax forms.

“I understand you have a new padawan,” Madame Hallan said kindly. “I saw him reading. He seems like a wonderful boy.”

She and half the temple understood that he had a new padawan. “I need your help,” Obi-Wan said, excruciatingly impolitely. Since when was Obi-Wan impolite? Since when was he lost? “It’s Anakin - I need to enroll him for lessons and I need some introductory literature for him and -”

“Dear, you’ll want to talk to Master Ravenholme for that.” Master Ravenholme was the Master of Education, and personal blight of many. “He’ll likely ask Anakin to take a placement test to determine which classes he joins.”

“Anakin can’t take a placement test,” Obi-Wan said. “He can’t read.”

To Madame Hallan’s credit, and raising a lot of questions about what exactly the other Jedi knew about Anakin, she accepted the information with a thoughtful look and a nod. “Does he know his letters and some words, or is it total illiteracy?”

Obi-Wan scrubbed his face. He was perched in the uncomfortable metal chair across from her desk, elbows propped on his knees. “It’s sporadic. He’s not totally illiterate, and I think he can read mechanical instruction manuals and labels and signs and that sort of thing...if it has to do with starfighters, he can write the instruction manual...I don’t know, I haven’t checked, but I can’t send him to class like this…”

“Calm yourself, Obi-Wan. Release that tension into the Force. Let’s take this one step at a time,” Madame Hallan said firmly, as Obi-Wan carefully breathed. “I will schedule a reading and writing assessment appointment for Anakin for an assessment. Knight Fu and Knight Kili are available to administer personal tutoring until we get him up to speed.” Fu and Kili were two teachers in the special education department, which was somewhat lean for children over the age of ten or so. Most of the ‘delayed’ children were quickly assigned to the Jedi Corp. Obi-Wan was highly educated on this, and shamefully bitter. “Now, doesn’t that sound like a plan?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Madame Hallen typed something out on her computer, making Obi-Wan’s datapad ping. “I’ve sent you a few of the handbooks that we give new knights and first-time teachers. Hopefully they’ll be of some use to you.” She smiled reassuringly at him, oozing serenity. “I think you will make a wonderful teacher, Obi-Wan. Our Temple’s never seen a young Jedi as dedicated and hardworking as you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And I’m certain that once you and Anakin get settled in, no matter where he came from, he will make an excellent student. We’re all Jedi here, after all.”

Betting was not Jedi-like behavior, despite the fact that Obi-Wan was a world-class betting champion on three Outer Rim worlds (there had been a diamond heist), but Obi-Wan would bet five hundred credits right now that Anakin was not in the chair where he had left him.

In the end, Obi-Wan was pleasantly surprised. Anakin, obviously, was not in the chair where Obi-Wan had left him, but he was within easy searching distance and hadn’t destroyed any droids yet. Instead, he had just meandered to the large picture encyclopedia propped up on a wooden stand, flipping through the flimsi with wide eyes.

Obi-Wan stood next to him, unable to smile but amused all the same. “Do you know what that is?”

Anakin nodded fervently. “It’s an encyclopedia! The padawan guy said it has pictures of every smart species in the galaxy.”

There were, of course, digital databases for these things, but kids loved flipping through things. “Sentient species. Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah!” Anakin lingered on a picture of a Togruta before flipping further at light speed. “The padawan guy said that Qui-gon was a ‘rogue Jedi’ and that he taught you how to do crime and conquer planets and backflip and stuff.”

Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose. Hard. “Please don’t listen to Temple gossip, Anakin. It’ll jump down Coruscant while the truth takes an airlift.”

“But you can do backflips, I saw it.” Anakin turned to look at him - eyes wide, unjudging. “What does ‘rogue Jedi’ mean?”

What did it mean? Obi-Wan had spent half his life wondering. “It means that Qui-gon and I had a lot of adventures,” Obi-Wan said tactfully. “My training was somewhat unconventional in comparison with many other Jedi.”

But Anakin just beamed. “That’s so cool! Is my training going to be uncon - unconvectional?”

“Unconventional.” Obi-Wan sighed. “And at this point, I’m afraid so.”

Was Anakin going to resent him for this once he grew older? He must. Anakin would never be a real Jedi, a proper one. Just like Obi-Wan wasn’t. And Obi-Wan had spent almost a decade now frantically, fervently, desperately trying. He had done everything: mastered the art of saber-fighting, excelled in as many topics as he could. He was an expert in diplomacy, politics, ecology, and tactics. Everybody who met Obi-Wan found him charming, graceful, and handsome - and nobody who ever met Obi-Wan liked him. He topped his classes, was better at saberplay than most knights, and had personally saved the lives of three princesses and a memorable duchess, and he couldn’t figure out how to be a Jedi.

Obi-Wan couldn’t teach what he didn’t have. And he would never be able to give -

“Cool! I want to backflip and conquer planets too.” Anakin grinned up at him, yellow teeth flashing in the soft library lights. “I already know how to do crime, I’m really good at it!”

“Jedi have diplomatic immunity, so technically I’ve never done a crime,” Obi-Wan said, somewhat testily.

“What’s diplomatic immunity?”

“Lesson number two, padawan, is that it means we can do whatever we want so long as we can justify it in the mission report.”

“Wizard!”

Maybe Obi-Wan should just never repeat anything Qui-gon had ever said to him. Ever.

In a roundabout act of bribery, Obi-Wan finally led Anakin towards the cafeteria. It wasn’t lunchtime, but few Jedi strictly followed the guidelines of breakfast, lunchtime, and dinnertime. This was mostly because the creche and Initiates did, and nobody wanted to be in the cafeteria while children were everywhere. Obi-Wan was somewhat infamous in certain circles for braving the cafeteria at 0500 hours, when the space was completely overtaken by retired and venerated Masters sipping tea and playing intense grudge matches of shogi. Obi-Wan had been forced into the matter by his habit of waking up at 0430, but the shogi skills he learned had once settled a trade negotiation between two tribal groups with an ancestral grudge on a Mid-Rim planet, so he had no regrets.

Anakin was practically crushing his hand in excitement. His head whipped around everywhere, eyes wide and drinking in the sublimely banal and boring sight. There was the salad bar, there was the meat bar, there was the drink fountain...but to Anakin, it was the most amazing thing on Coruscant. It almost made Obi-Wan smile. When was the last time he had that expression on his face? Even the beautiful spires of Naboo were commonplace to him.

“And they just -”

“Yes, they just give you the food.” Obi-Wan stopped in the center of the crowded thoroughfare - where, thankfully, everybody was far too focused on their meal or their friends to care about the Temple’s newest spectacle. “I’m sorry, Anakin. What do you...eat, again?”

Anakin suffered this atrocious act of caretaking patiently. What had he been eating until now? Just the self-stable noodles? Had he been handling boiling water?! “At home we ate jinjaraak and ekijun. People with money had fruit and stuff.” He looked around hopefully. “And they just give you fruit -”

“Right,” Obi-Wan said. He struggled to remember the food Shmi had served them. It had been mostly gruel. Obi-Wan had been around the block enough to see that she had been an adept cook of terrible ingredients. “Could you give me an idea of what those are?”

“Uh…” Anakin made little slapping motions with his hands. “Jinjaraak is from clay and lard and spices. I help Mom make little cakes. Like this, see?” At Obi-Wan’s dubious expression, he quickly clarified, “From the good clay. Near the dried up rivers. Not the bad clay. That stuff makes you sick. O’la’rek ate some of that and she got super sick and she barfed up blue -”

“Let’s get you some fruit,” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin got as much fruit as he wanted. Obi-Wan was too busy thinking about what ‘good clay’ could possibly mean to stop him. He could take the extra back to their quarters, anyway.

There was a line for medical diets, and Obi-Wan eventually shuffled an ecstatic fruit-chomping Anakin into that line. He had to present the script the Halls of Healing gave him to the friendly yet belaboured Padawan working the booth that day, and waited patiently as the Padawan squinted at it and ran off to go get his supervisor. Anakin was in Rylothian Heaven, complete with the trees of plenty.

Eventually the supervisor shuffled out, and when Obi-Wan recognized Master Law he bowed. The gruff Patitite squinted at Obi-Wan, then down at the effervescent Anakin with jogan juice staining his sleeve. It was a good thing Obi-Wan thought ahead and ordered extra robes.

“Kenobi,” Master Law finally said, with an air of crisp memory. “Iron deficiency.”

“Yes, Master.” Please don’t remind him. “I’m here with a prescription for my -”

“And the Vitamin D deficiency. And malnutrition?” Master Law squinted further at Obi-Wan, as if half-convinced that he couldn’t possibly be remembering correctly. “I had you eating Lo’rok paste for a month.”

“Yes, Master. After I was stationed on Neskar.”

“How the blazes was a Padawan stationed on -” Master Law cut himself off abruptly, staring down at Anakin instead. He looked him up and down with sharp eyes, seemingly picking out a dozen things that Obi-Wan just couldn’t see. “I’ll get you the nutrient shakes. See that he has one with every meal, three meals a day. I’m prescribing extra vitamin gummies, he’s a bit yellow. Those dietician hacks at the Halls of Healing don’t know anything about real food.”

Obi-Wan really didn’t want to get in the middle of that, so he just nodded. But Anakin blinked up at the man, flecks of seeds caught on the corner of his mouth. “What’s a gummy?”

“A very sweet, tasty candy,” Master Law said gravely. “Which young Padawans only receive when they are very brave.”

Anakin brightened. “What’s candy?”

“The best food in the galaxy.” Master Law’s stern countenance split into a sharp smile. “Seems like that’s just what the doctor ordered. If you’ve never had any, then that means I have to prescribe you a double dose.”

Anakin grinned to match, bright and wide, with yellow teeth and crinkled eyes. “That means I’m brave! I’m super brave! Padme said so, and you said so, so it’s like I’m extra brave!”

For some reason that he just couldn’t parse, Obi-Wan found himself anxiously saying, “I think you’re brave too, Anakin.”

“Triple brave!”

The cafeteria was quickly proving to be Anakin’s favorite place in the Temple. Obi-Wan was reasonably certain that this was a good thing, because it made Anakin happy and happiness was good. That was a reliable fact of the universe: when happiness was scarce, sweet food could usually supply it. Sometimes you took what you could get.

Obi-Wan made an uncharacteristic move and placed a great deal of sugar on his oatmeal. Dumping sugar on oatmeal was crazy. This was probably what going insane felt like. Obi-Wan felt like a criminal.

“You’re very boring, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said judgmentally.

“I’m afraid so,” the ten time war veteran agreed.

It could be worse. Nobody was around to see his shame but Anakin, and the small child wouldn't squeal. All he had to do was ply Anakin with nutrition shakes and fruit, take him back to their quarters, not leave their quarters again for another two weeks in order to recover from this experience, and -

“Obi-Wan! Goodness, Obi-Wan!”

Both Obi-Wan and Anakin jumped a foot in the air, Anakin fighting to keep his food balanced on his child-sized tray. But Obi-Wan recognized the voice, the smooth familiarity soothing his panicking heart and calming down his padawan by connection.

Despite the fact that the voice was the last person he wanted to see.

Bant didn’t run, because she was a respectable Knight, but she did speedwalk in a dignified waddle towards Obi-Wan and Anakin. Anakin subtly slid closer to Obi-Wan, which he should really discourage.

“Obi-Wan! Oh, goodness, you - you jerk, you big jerk!” Bant wrung her flippers, jowls shaking with the clear uge to wrap up Obi-Wan in her patented tight hug and foiled only by the tray that Obi-Wan was holding in front of him like a shield. “You’re an absolute bantha’s - oh!”

She had just noticed Anakin, who held his tray tightly. He was frowning at Bant, and Obi-Wan could feel a twinge of childish bad emotion across their still nascent bond. Wait. What bond?

Bant was oblivious, or put on a good show of it. “You must be Padawan Skywalker,” she said warmly. She bent down a little, and Obi-Wan was struck by nostalgia for her glimmering eyes and bright smile. Bant loved kids. Obi-Wan never had. “It’s so good to meet you! Have you been taking care of your silly master for me?”

Anakin pursed his lips judgmentally. “My teacher’s not silly,” Anakin said, a bit loudly. “He’s great and smart and does backflips. It’s not his fault he’s a jerk!”

Never mind. Obi-Wan was never taking Anakin out in public again. He carefully destroyed the urge to wince, settling for smiling weakly at Anakin. Bant looked a little taken back - shocked by the idea that Anakin could have taken her friendly teasing seriously. Or maybe that he would openly call Obi-Wan a jerk. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to contest it. It was fair.

“Bant’s my best friend, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, with as much warmth as he could muster. His smile was looking more pathetic than anything, so he dropped it. “She knows how good my backflips are.”

“The best in the Temple!” Bant immediately swore up and down. “I’m awfully sorry, Anakin. I think your master’s the coolest guy here. Come on, why don’t you two come eat lunch with me and the rest of Obi-Wan’s friends? We’ve all been dying to meet the newest member of the family!”

A stone sank in Obi-Wan’s gut. He looked over the crowd, effortlessly picking out the familiar table in the back center. Sure enough, he saw the telltale gawks of Siri and Quinlan.

Joy. The two people he wanted to talk to the least. Those two ate Obi-Wan for breakfast on a good day. They would devour him now. They could smell weakness on him. He couldn’t get anything past them. They would take one look at him and know, just know -

“Obi-Wan has friends?” Anakin asked dubiously. “But he just stays in his room all day.” Went tactfully unsaid: and nobody likes him.

Somehow, the emotional obstacle course his friends were going to put him through was more appealing than the cold judgement of the nine year old. “I have plenty of friends,” Obi-Wan lied through his teeth. “Let’s go say hi.”

It felt like walking to the guillotine. Actually, Obi-Wan had walked to a guillotine before, and this was - no, it wasn’t worse. Hadn’t he done it twice? The first time was stressful, because he wasn’t sure if Qui-Gon had seduced the prison guard yet. The second time was fine, since he had hidden his lightsaber in the loose floorboard under the guillotine before he set up his own capture. So - better than the first time, worse than the second time.

Bizarrely, Siri and Quinlan grinned when they saw them. Obi-Wan was actively fighting the urge to hide behind the nine year old. The nine year old who he couldn’t possibly have formed a training bond with - he had been his padawan all of a week, it was impossible - but who had undoubtedly sensed his anxiety anyway.

“Obi-Wan, I can’t fucking believe it,” Quinlan shouted, far too loudly. He and Bant’s trays were empty, while the slow eater Siri’s bowl of grains were half-eaten. They had been there for a while, probably hours, talking about life. He had always left after thirty minutes. He had stuff to do. “I must have left you ten damn voicemails -”

“You son of a varnaak.” Siri had a death grip on her spoon, wielding it like a lightsaber. “I’m strangling you with your intestine. Not inviting me to your own knighting -”

“If you’re going to be mean, we’re leaving!” Anakin interrupted, voice high and reedy. “I already said so! I will stomp your feet!”

“You’re not allowed to stomp their feet, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, exhausted beyond measure. “Hello, all. Save the interrogation for after we’ve eaten, please.”

And maybe it was the sheer power of Anakin and his mighty feet, but his friends quieted enough for Obi-Wan to shove sugary oats into his mouth and for Anakin to polish off his fruit before starting in on his nutrient shake. Obi-Wan had to stop and take a napkin and wipe the seeds off the corner of his mouth, and help him to insert the straw in the protein shake, but the act of sucking on a straw amused Anakin and he didn’t hate the taste. There were friendly animal species on the cup. Special nutrient shake for chronically malnourished children - now with bright colors!

His friends just watched them, without even food to make the environment faux-casual. Their dark eyes seemed to follow him, and Obi-Wan felt his skin crawl. He didn’t want to deal with this. He could barely deal with Quinlan on a good day, much less...today. Any day, lately.

Finally, his grace period seemed to tick down to zero, and Quinlan broke the ice with a fishing spear and an excess of exuberance. “Is this the famous little guy we’ve heard so much about? I hear you’re a good pilot, kid!”

And, just like that, Quinlan was Anakin’s favorite person on Coruscant. “I’m the best pilot,” Anakin asserted arrogantly. Obi-Wan mentally noted the tendency for arrogance and pride down in the ‘Goal Setting!’ part of his brain that was half-heartedly drafting a training curriculum. “I can blow up anything and anyone.”

“Sounds like Quinlan,” Siri snickered. Unlike Bant, she was terrified of children, but she hid it well. “He and your master are Joballian twins that way. Those two could start a fire in deep space.”

“So who are you people?” Anakin asked. Obi-Wan put ‘unbelievably blunt’ in his mental training curriculum. “Are you really Obi-Wan’s friends? He doesn’t like you.”

“I like them very much,” Obi-Wan said rotely. Quinlan pantomimed a shot to the heart.

But Bant just smiled down at Anakin, unflappable. “You’re a padawan, young one. You should call Obi-Wan your master. It’s good to be polite.”

“Why should I have to do that?” Anakin’s voice tinged a little louder, and at a pointed look from Obi-Wan he toned it down. Siri’s eyebrows rose. “He’s my teacher, not a master of no one.”

Bant winced a bit, and all three of them rippled discomfort in the Force. So they knew, even though it wasn’t totally public knowledge. Quinlan had undoubtedly used his ridiculous clearance as a Shadow to access the Naboo mission records and spilled the details to them. Keeping it professional, as always.

“Master means something very different to Jedi,” Bant said gently. “It’s a special relationship between two people. Every Jedi teaches and learns from each other, but your master is the person who guides you and makes sure you go to bed on time. It’s just the same word for a very different thing than you’re used to.”

“What do you mean by that?” Anakin gnawed on his straw suspiciously. “I thought Obi-Wan was the one who taught me.”

Quinlan, who had far more experience with the wider world than Siri and Bant, caught on first. He propped his elbows on the table, and Obi-Wan saw him visibly struggle for the ‘wise teacher’ tone before giving up. “The Jedi have different relationships than you’re used to, kid. Who took care of you and watched you all day back home?”

This was heading into dangerous territory, and Obi-Wan frowned dangerously at Quinlan, but Anakin just hummed. “Mom took care of me and we moved around together. But Old Lady Hun watches me and the other kids in the gathering space when Mom’s busy. And when Jipol was sick, Mom and I took care of her two daughters. And Old Man Wa taught me how to fix things. And -”

“Right. So the Jedi are like that. Instead of a very small number of people raising kids, every adult raises every kid. So, for example, any Jedi would tell you to stop running in the halls or stop you from misbehaving -”

“And every Jedi did, with this one,” Siri added.

“ - but any Knight or Master would help you with your homework, too,” Quinlan finished, elbowing Siri. “We all help each other here. We share food, stuff, school, and teachings. That’s why we practice nonattachment - everything’s everybody’s, not just yours. Make sense?”

Anakin’s brow was furrowed. He paid close attention to everything - chewing everything over again and again until it made sense. Obi-Wan shoveled oatmeal in his mouth, glad Quinlan was doing this. “Why does nonattachment mean you don’t get moms or dads?”

Dangerous territory. Bant opened her mouth to say something soothing, but Quinlan beat her to the punch. “Well, to Jedi, we think the idea of just putting two or three people in charge of kids is pretty crazy. Kids are loud and bouncy. One or two people would get totally stressed out and make mistakes. And imagine just a few people teaching you about life. They could believe all this crazy stuff, and then so would you.”

“And what if the parent’s being a total jerk?” Siri pointed out. “Then the kid’s stuck with that. But when there’s other people around, they can stop and tell the parent that they’re being a total jerk. Then they have to cut it out.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes. “So nobody beats their kids here because the other Jedi would get mad?”

Awkward silence loomed. Finally, Quinlan said, “Yeah, totally. Anyway, that’s why our way rocks and makes sense. Boom. Teaching moment.” Quinlan slapped the table in victory. “We are so good at this. We’re going to be the greatest teachers ever, Anakin. Forget lame old Obi-Wan, he’s going to lead you down the path of boring. Stick with Knight Vos, I’m gonna lead you down the path that rocks.”

At Anakin’s deeply confused expression, Bant put a hand on his back. But when she spoke she spoke to Obi-Wan, gleaming eyes boring into his. “We’re Obi-Wan’s best friends. We’re going to be here for you almost as much as Obi-Wan is. None of us have padawans yet, so we’re all really excited to help you! Did you know I’m a doctor?”

Anakin perked up. He respected doctors highly - apparently it was a very prestigious position on Tatooine. “Wow! Obi-Wan’s friends with a doctor?”

“And I’m a superspy action hero, kid!” Quinlan flexed, tossing his dreads. “I can teach you how to hack into anything!”

“I’m a better pilot than anyone at this table.” Siri awkwardly waved her fist in the air in a pantomime of excitement. “I’ll help you...fly things. Which you can apparently already do. But I’ll teach you how to do it better.”

The idea was heady to Anakin. His eyes widened, filled with possibility and excitement. Of smiling adult faces, wanting to help. But he looked at Obi-Wan instead, fear sneaking in through the gap bored by long experience with misery. “So what does a master do, then?”

Obi-Wan smiled wanly at Anakin. Experimentally, he tried sending him as much warmth as possible. He didn’t have much to spare, but Anakin seemed to appreciate the sentiment. “I’ll protect you, Anakin. And I’d like it if you continued calling me Obi-Wan.”

And he knew that meant more to Anakin than all the rest. At least Obi-Wan won there.

Although Obi-Wan had gone his entire life despairing for Quinlan’s future padawan, he somehow handled Anakin wonderfully. Even Siri awkwardly asked a question about Anakin’s favorite kind of ship - clearly expecting an answer along the lines of ‘a big one!’ or ‘one that shoots lasers!’ - and sat through Anakin’s ten minute scientific dissertations on the difference in engine ports between Genoshian Special X100 and Genoshian Special X200.

When’s the last time Obi-Wan had a long conversation with Anakin, where they just talked about nothing? He’d been so selfish, focusing entirely on himself and not even thinking about Anakin. His friends were doing this a thousand times better than he was. They should be the one with a padawan, not him. Qui-Gon hadn’t thought he was ready for knighthood until - well, until it was convenient, but if it took him this long to be knighted he ought to be forty before he got a padawan.

In a characteristically deft maneuver, Quinlan had flagged down a friend of his - Ku Lun, a friendly face and teacher to the Initiates - and gave Anakin a real world lesson in Jedi togetherness by asking him to walk Anakin back to their quarters. Anakin shot a panicked look at Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan deeply wished to send a panicked look back, but he just nodded supportively.

“Don’t you want to ask Knight Lun about lessons?” Obi-Wan said. “You can work together to design your school.”

The concept of school, and the power to choose it, was obviously heady to Anakin, and he jumped off the bench with only a tinge of reluctance. “Come back to the room in thirty minutes or you’re fired,” Anakin told Obi-Wan gravely, yet nonsensically, before running off with Knight Lun.

It wasn’t until the sounds of Anakin’s chattering faded, then disappeared completely, that Obi-Wan turned back to his friends with a sigh. Their plot had worked. Quinlan and Siri’s perfect score in tactics - second only to his more than perfect score - had won again. He was subject to the masses, and the masses were stressed over his wellbeing.

Better make the pre-emptive strike. “Greetings, my honored friends,” Obi-Wan said dully. “My very best friends in the galaxy, whom I have not spoken to in months.”

“And whose fault is that, you asshole!” Quinlan thumped the table, making the plasteelware rattle, and cuing a withering look from Bant. “You drop out of contact. You leave on a routine diplomatic mission. You get wrapped up in an interplanetary war, obviously, because that’s how your routine missions always go. And you come back with a kid and the head of a Sith?”

“You have the situation well in hand, Quinlan. There’s nothing more I can teach you.”

“Idiot! I’m not asking for a mission report, here.” Quinlan set his mouth, as tempestuous as ever. “Are you okay?”

Was he okay?

Maybe Bant caught something on his expression, because she placed a reassuring flipper on his arm. “We’re sorry about Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan. We know how much he meant to you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“You can’t get rid of us just because you don’t talk to us.” Siri scooped the rest of her oats in her mouth, clearly regretful that she no longer had something to hide behind. “Reeft and Garen feel the same way. You’re lucky Garen’s on a mission, or he would have staked out your door.” He would have. Garen was insane. “I know they waived the two weeks in solitude considering your circumstances, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need it. Anakin needs -”

“As his master, I have the best idea of what Anakin needs.” Obi-Wan kept his voice flat, dispassionate. He wasn’t a child anymore, not that impetuous Initiate who yelled and stomped and screamed. Obi-Wan had drowned that anger under thick layers of Jedi robe years ago. “I appreciate and understand your concern. However, I ask for faith in my abilities to handle my padawan.”

“Oh, no. Not the ‘I Am A Perfect Jedi And You Are The Irresponsible Bugs Beneath My Feet’ voice.” Siri didn’t sound amused, as she normally would be while making fun of him. What was funny about speaking properly? “Don’t shut down on us.”

“I’ve never understood where you got the impression that Jedi don’t have feelings, Obi-Wan,” Bant scolded, “but you know it’s not true. Jedi feel their feelings. They feel them and release them. This is you repressing them. They’re just going to fester and get worse if you do that.”

“Yes, Bant. I recieved top marks in Philosophy 101, same as you.” Obi-Wan picked at his sealed up, the rims of thick juice sloshing in the corners, before forcing himself to stop. He forced his hands still on the table, pressing them down hard on the linoleum. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t know what good a confession would do to all of you. Obviously I miss my master. Obviously I’m all…very sad about it.” Obi-Wan jerked his shoulders in a half-shrug, ignoring everyone’s unimpressed looks. “What good will talking about it do? I have to remain focused. In the real world, you don’t get the luxury of hermitage.”

“Luckily, you’re not in the real world.” Bant’s wry tone imparted the air quotes around ‘real world’. “You’re home. You and Anakin are safe here.” Obi-Wan snorted. “Knight Kenobi, what was that?”

Uh oh. But Siri unknowingly came to his rescue, leaning forward with as intent and sympathetic expression as she could wring from her usually severe countenance. “Don’t give me that dung, Obi-Wan. I cried for a month after Master Tahl died. You were there for me every second of it. What, are you so special that you don’t need help? Are you so much better than us that you don’t feel what every sentient feels? Your ‘better than you’ attitude doesn’t make you better than yourself.”

Bant made a warbling sound of frustration. “Siri, let’s not insult the person we are trying to help.”

“It’s not my fault he’s so - look, this is about Anakin -”

A tightly wound rope of...of something bad snapped in Obi-Wan’s gut. “You don’t think I can handle him.”

“Nobody’s saying that, brother,” Quinlan said, placating for the first time in his life, “but it’s like I was just telling the little guy, right? Nobody can do this by themselves. Cultures that try to do it are - they’re just crazy!”

“None of you think I can do this,” Obi-Wan whispered harshly, trying to keep the - the bad thing locked tight inside, incapable. It wouldn’t stop overflowing, a cup that runneth over. “Nobody in this Temple thinks I’m capable of taking care of him. They don’t think he can be a Jedi. It’s my fault. It’s because he has such a fuck-up for a master.”

Everybody around him suddenly radiated extreme alarm in the Force in unison. Was it really that unusual for him to say the words that swirled around in his head every hour of the day?

“Obi-Wan, we’re the fuck-ups. I mean, me and Siri and Garen. You and Bant are the Rylothian angels here.”

“That’s not what everybody else thinks,” Obi-Wan said lowly. “I’ve always been tainted because of Qui-Gon. Now just being around me is going to taint Anakin. Everybody knows it.”

“Tainted?” Bant asked with alarm. What was alarming? “What are you talking about -”

But Obi-Wan barrelled through her, unwilling to hear whatever sweet and placating words she had for him today. He stood up, carefully stepping off the bench and fussily fixing his robes with hands that did not shake. “We are going to prove it to them. Anakin will become a Jedi. I will make Anakin a Jedi, if it’s the last thing I do.”

He swept off, feeling a little bit dramatic, feeling as if he had expelled the smallest amount of emotion he could. That was the least he could give, portioning out bits of himself to the hungry and braying crowd.

Why did they want these pieces of him so desperately? What was valuable about these hideous parts of Obi-Wan - the fear, the insecurity, the nightmares shaking him awake each night? People like Bant and Quinlan dug and dug and dug until they found what they were looking for, as if they wanted to prove something to themselves, to him, to the Jedi.

Prove that he was inferior. Prove that he was just as wild and angry as everybody always said. Prove that his flimsy mask of ‘A Perfect Jedi’ was nothing more than a stage actor placing a pulp-mache bantha’s head mask over his face and strutting about as if he was a king. Prove what Qui-Gon had always thought of him: that any love for him could only be held at arm's length, that a kid who needed to prove himself never required support or a helping hand, that there was no such thing as ‘good enough’ when you lived in competition with ghosts and shadows.

Prove what everybody knew, and what Obi-Wan could not hide.

***

When Obi-Wan got home, Anakin was lying on the ground committing atrocities upon the ravaged corpse of a pilfered library droid.

“Please start putting down a tarp when you do that,” Obi-Wan said. “You’ve been getting oil into the carpet.” He paused a beat. “And please stop sneaking away from chaperones.”

“But I need to practice sneaking away from good guys so I can be good at sneaking away from bad guys! And it’s not like I was caught.” Anakin didn’t look up at him, absorbed in his work. “That’s Jedi lesson three, right? ‘Do whatever you want, just don’t get caught’?”

“When had - why do -” Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting the one day exposure to Qui-Gon. But..in the face of that logic, Obi-Wan was forced to concede. It was objectively true. “Yes. But make an exception for me. Just don’t get caught by others.”

“You got it! Hey, pinch this wire for me.”

So Obi-Wan lay down on his stomach across from Anakin, staring at him from over a sea of rusty machinery. His round little face, somehow still clinging onto baby fat, was smooth as only a child’s could be. It was flaky and rough from the blistering heat of twin suns, but he had ointment now. His featherly light blonde hair would darken without its sunshine bleach, and it would grow long in limp brown shags. He would look like his mother - if, apparently, there was no father to speak of.

His expression was screwed up in concentration, tongue poking out of his teeth as he carefully screwed in a bolt where it likely was not intended to go. There was something strangely beautiful about him in that moment - an intelligence at work, a powerful focus rarely applied. He glowed in the Force like a sun, overwhelming and breath-taking.

But when Obi-Wan’s breath caught, he wasn’t sure if it was the Force. Maybe it was just Anakin. Could you fall in love like this? Just by looking at somebody, just by feeling how great they could be? Stronger than Obi-Wan, more righteous than Qui-Gon? Kinder than Master Dooku, more vibrant than Grandmaster Yoda?

Could he be better? Or would Obi-Wan only make him worse?

“Do you like my friends?” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Gimmie a min’.” Anakin finished screwing the bolt, huffing at the piece. “Bad. Gotta redo...what didya say?”

“Do you like my friends?”

“Oh!” Anakin brightened. “They’re super cool and awesome Jedi! They’re just like I thought Jedi would be. Bant’s a doctor! Did you know that?”

“I did.” A pang shot through Obi-Wan’s heart. “They’d be better teachers than I. I’m sorry, Anakin. I’m sorry you’re stuck with…”

“No way! I’m sorry you’re stuck with me, Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s expression crumpled a little, although he bravely tried to keep it straight. He was already picking that up from Obi-Wan. “I’m why everybody keeps looking at us weird...it’s all my fault. All the Jedi hate us.”

“Anakin, no. The Jedi love all sentient beings.” Judging from Anakin’s expression, Obi-Wan was speaking straight bantha poodoo and acting as if the Corellian moons were made of cheese. “It’s true. They’d - they’d all help you. You don’t need to rely on me.”

Wires hissed and sparked. Anakin was quiet for a moment, stripping some wires with a deft, chubby hand and tying them together. He reached out to grab a blowtorch, but at Obi-Wan’s dangerous expression he carefully retreated his hand. It was a matter of time until he was using his lightsaber to solder metal. Incorrigible. Finally, Anakin said, “What Mr. Quinlan -”

“Knight Quinlan.”

“Knight Quinlan was talking about how you’re just there to guide me and teach me the Jedi way for a few years. And they all acted like the master and padawan thing is so special and great, but…” His face crumpled a little, overcome by an emotion he couldn’t name. “When we had to leave Mom behind...I thought that meant that you were going to be Mom now. But they aren’t going to let us. They’re going to make other people teach me because they don’t like you, and - and - and!”

Fat tears were rolling down Anakin’s cheeks, no matter how hard he scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve. Obi-Wan quickly sat up and moved closer to Anakin, wrapping him in a hug and letting Anakin press his head into Obi-Wan’s tunic. He would probably have to get this one cleaned with Anakin’s robe. He didn’t know why he was focusing on that instead of Anakin’s hitched breaths as he tried to control his tears.

“Nobody’s going to take you away from me, Anakin.” That wasn’t what he meant to say. That was far too possessive. That hadn’t come out right. But what had Obi-Wan meant to say? “We all just want what’s best for you. You might be happier with the others.” Obi-Wan faltered. “You could be a normal child here. Take lessons. Play with the other children. Learn and grow and be happy. My padawanship, Anakin...it was dangerous and isolated. That’s the kind of life I’ve always lived. I don’t want to expose you to that.”

Anakin separated from him, eyes red-rimmed but dry. “They aren’t strong! All the kids and the old people here - they’re weak! Nothing bad’s ever happened to them, so they think sad people like us are freaks. But you’re strong, Obi-Wan. I want to be strong and just like you. I’m not embarrassed to be your padawan.” He faltered a little, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s okay that you’re sad and that I had to make food for a little bit. Mom would get sad sometimes too. She couldn’t leave bed and stuff. I would take care of Mom and make her food. I don’t mind making you food. The slaves all had each other, we did, but...Mom and I took care of each other. We can take care of each other. It’s just you and me. Right?”

Obi-Wan embraced Anakin tightly, fighting to control his breathing. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t the correct way to do this. He had to be more like Qui-Gon - professional and strong and affectionate. Qui-Gon would have never let Obi-Wan cling to him like this, swearing an oath that neither of them should ever make.

Nobody was going to help them. None of them had ever forgotten how Obi-Wan had been a failure as a child, and none of them were ever going to forget where Anakin came from. No matter what they all said, their bright smiles and helping hands - none of them understood what it was like. It was just Obi-Wan and Anakin from now on.

In some strange way, it felt as if it had always been. As if Obi-Wan had only been alone, because he had not met or loved Anakin yet.

This wasn’t the kind of master Obi-Wan should be. He should be discouraging this desperation and neediness. But he couldn’t discourage it in himself, and he had no idea how to quench it in either of them.

As the Rylothians would say - if this was a sin, then hell had greater need of him than heaven.

He would put in the request for active mission duty. If Anakin grew up like he did - in the midst of adventure and hardship - then he could attain the strength he so desired. That was all Obi-Wan knew how to offer, and that was Qui-Gon’s legacy.

“It’s just you and me, Anakin,” Obi-Wan swore, and damned himself. “It’s just you and me…”

#star wars #sw #star wars fanfic #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #bant eerin #siri tachi #quinlan vos #this is the first and last star wars thing you will ever get from me #please don't ask the rationale i have secrets #i like to think that nothing bad happens in this universe #(it's not an AU but it's not NOT an AU? up to interpretation)#because Obiwan in canon is on anakin's ass about everything #and here he's just one of those single parents who's like 'ok so long as you're fed and not on fire i don't have energy to care #about anything else'#I think this was written from joking about how comedically and weirdly terrible obiwan's childhood was #and from my own personal feelings about the weird way the sw fandom understands communal childcare #and nonattachment #It Does Not Mean What You Think It Means (Because George Lucas Is A White Guy Buddhist!)#if you're wondering if the behavior by the jedi here is realistic or nomal or if it's positive or negative #I have lived in a monastery and it is the most accurate thing you will ever see in a SW fic #my writing

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