#LUCAS ON GEORGE’s SHOULDERS

[skrunksthatwunk]

world's thinnest walls versus parents' stupidest argument

[deathbyathousandspiders]

peter and reader literally js making out and being adorable !

i kinda got carried away w this one so it’s a little bit ✨spicier✨ than intended-

!!! 18+ (MDI) !!!

content warnings — a really steamy make–out with Peter, sexual content, teasing.

✨masterlist✨.

1.2k.

The emptiness of Peter’s apartment carried his voice through the echoes, making the space feel that much bigger as you sunk into his couch. His Aunt May had gone out with some friends for the evening, making some suggesting jokes and comments that made you and Peter blush, even long after she’d left.

All the lights were off in the apartment, excluding the lamp behind Peter’s closed bedroom door, and the colorful glow of the television seated in front of you. You and your boyfriend were cuddled on his couch, entranced by George Lucas’s galactic storytelling. Your head had previously been resting on his shoulder, but due to Peter’s current geeky–tangent, you sat up to listen to him better.

“He used to make lightsaber sounds when they were practicing, and he’d have no idea.” Peter was quite expressive when he explained little Star–Wars facts to you. There was something about the way his eyes lit up, and he’d use his arms to guide the sentence.

You bit the inside of your cheek, hiding your amusement as best as possible whilst you listened. Your entire focus was set to him, but the passion he had for these movies never ceased to entertain you. The two of you had been dating for roughly five months, and from the little mental list you were creating of your favorite Peter things, these conversations were one of your top picks.

Peter’s eyes kept flickering back and forth from you to the movie screen, glowing happily as he went on with his vent about Revenge of the Sith, more importantly, Ewan McGregor. “He had been so used to making the effects when he was younger, that when they’d film their battle scenes, Ewan made the sound effects out of habit.”

As much as you had been paying attention to his words, your thread of thought was more occupied with the enthusiasm laced in his voice. The timid dimples that threatened to say hello in the midst of his smile, the ecstatic gesture of his hands, and the glistening tint of excitement that strung within your eye contact. You’d been so entranced by his little geek–out, you almost forgot to respond.

Your grin grew a little, despite every Star–Wars related response fleeting from your brain. You let the first thought you could muster slip through your lips. “You’re adorable.” You probably could’ve given a more thorough and engaged response, but seeing the red that flooded Peter’s expression made it all the more worth it.

Peter looked at you for a moment, completely flustered. He was off guard at the fact that ‘you’re adorable’ was your only response to his Star–Wars tangent. His lips parted a few times to speak, but his words failed every time. “Shut up..”

Carefully, you slid yourself closer to him beneath your shared throw blanket, looking up at him. Your head shook in response as you placed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “No.” You replied between kisses, placing a few more across his face. “I need to tell you how sweet and adorable you are...” Sooner than later, your lips found their way to his, connecting in such a sickly sweet way.

The kiss you shared seemed to ease the nerves that accompanied the blush on his face. You could feel the warmth of his fingers trace your upper thighs, pulling one across his legs so you could straddle his lap. You loved the feeling of your lips piecing together; the upper, then the lower, and the way your bodies fit together just as perfectly. It was intoxicating.

“I need to tell you how sweet and adorable you are..” Peter spoke, breathless between your kisses. His voice hummed lower than before, rasping in the back of his throat. Even though he’d just been particularly focused on the movie, his mind now went to other places. Just the thought of your intimacy, mixed with the way his hands kneaded the plush of your hips, sent a thrilling sensation straight down to your lower stomach.

Eyes shut, you were the one to first part from the kiss. “But we’re talking about you, Peter.” You lulled, feeling the way his lips chased after yours to stall your argument. You tucked your head away from his, your left thumb pressing itself on his lips as a barrier. You took the opportunity to cradle his face with your right hand in the process.

Your eyes slowly opened to meet Peter’s, fighting a smirk at how desperately he looked at you. You stared at him through your lashes, keeping your face irresistibly close to his. “I’m not going to kiss you until you take the compliment..” You teased, speaking barely above a whisper. You trusted him enough to remove your thumb, not even a little surprised by how eager he was to kiss you again.

It was easy to dodge him, and delectable to feel the light brushing of lips on yours; the urgency and impatience in his breath fanned against your parted lips, driving you just about as crazy as it drove him. The power you held was ravishing. Tension was quick to build between the two of you, binding both of you that much closer together. It took every bone in your body to fight the urge and cave to his need for you. His head craned in closer, doing everything he could to press his lonesome lips back to yours.

Peter tried to find a loophole. His hands grasping at your ass, his lips trailed and teased at your jawline when you’d dodge him. He found it infuriating, but also just as enjoyable. “Fine...” He huffed, smirking lightly. “Thank you.” Peter met your lips hungrily when you kissed him again, as though he’d been deprived of your embrace for years.

The kiss was much rougher than before, fueling the growing need for friction between your thighs. You rocked your hips against his, pressing the ache in your core to his growing erection. A heavy breath caught in your throat, lips parting further at the pressure. It was easy to let the world around you melt away, getting lost in Peter’s touch as his fingers tugged on your hair, and traveled under the thin fabric of your shirt.

Just like that, the jingle of May’s keys fumbling at the door tied you back to the crisp presence of reality. You flew off your boyfriend’s lap, seating yourself beside him like you had been moments prior. Swift movements brought a pillow to hide Peter’s arousal, and just like that, it looked like you two were merely watching a movie together. Well, minus the matching red hues on your cheeks.

May hummed a tune quietly to herself, mirroring the smile you sent her as she walked into the dark apartment. “The girls and I are heading to Jenny’s for the night, but I wanted to grab my Hennessy.” She chimed, strutting into the kitchen like she’d be out in a jiffy. Her attention got caught on the television for a moment, her smiling growing. “Oh! Pete, you found it!” May glanced at you, “Did he tell you that he spent all afternoon looking for his collectors DVD? He was really looking forward to showing it to you.”

You watched the way Peter’s head hit the back of the couch, pressing his palms into his face to try and mask his embarrassment. “May, stop!” He whined, sustaining out the words to emphasize just how flustered he got. His words were muffled through his hands, but you still couldn’t help but find it adorable. He was just too cute. You just had to let the giggles slip through your lips.

Yep, no doubt about it; Peter’s geeky Star–Wars obsession was definitely one of your favorite things about him. That, and your steamy make–out sessions.

[jackdaw-kraai]

I think there’s something rather strange going on with all the folks who insist that the Jedi Order in the PT was right and didn’t forbid love and Anakin should just have followed their teachings when the whole point of the prequels is that they are prequels. They come before the OT, and the OT proves the Jedi wrong. They literally do not make sense if they don’t do that.

Luke, in the original trilogy, gains his ultimate triumph, his ultimate victory, because he loved in defiance of the teachings of the old Order. He quite literally had the ghosts of the past telling him, explicitly and without ambiguity, that he has to put his love for his father aside and kill him, as is the duty of a Jedi. Luke has the weight of millennia of teachings weighing down on his shoulders, telling him they knew and know better than a young, inexperienced man barely out of his teenager years. That he should follow their teachings or be destroyed. That is an immense weight to carry, and many people would and explicitly have given in to it in-universe. What are your feelings and ideals in the face of such immense legacy, after all?

But Luke doesn’t give in.

He doesn’t bend.

He says “I may be young, and I may be new, but I believe to my heart and soul that love matters more than this legacy. Matters more than your teachings.” And he says this to the ghosts of his mentors. That is such a powerful moment and one I can’t believe George Lucas didn’t create deliberately for even a second. This young man, being told he has to kill or die trying for a system that is dead or dying itself, that couldn’t survive itself, and refusing to do so. He is the living refusing to continue the violence of a dead generation. He is the young man refusing the draft into a war the old generation started, saying “peace and love matters more than you being right.” He is the embodiment of breaking the cycle.

And the movies vindicate him.

The main villain vindicates him with his last dying breath.

Darth Vader, dying, says “You were right.” and admits he and his were wrong. The main antagonist, Luke’s nemesis, in the face of his son’s immense, defiant love, gives way and does the impossible: he comes back to the light and dies a Jedi. The very thing the old Order says was impossible.

They were wrong. They have to be. The narrative demands it, the movies don’t make sense without it.

The solution was never to continue the cycle of the old Order, or Luke would have failed there, would have failed when he said “I am a Jedi, like my father before me.” And claimed that defiant, deviant, condemned definition of being a Jedi over the one presented to him by the Grandmaster of the old Order. If the old Order was right, Luke would have to be wrong. Be wrong about love, be wrong about laying down the sword, be wrong about refusing to fight. He would have to be wrong.

But the old Order is dead, explicitly killed by a monster, in some part, of their own making. It’s members only existing as bones in the ground or ghosts speaking from beyond the grave. They did not deserve it, it should not have been inflicted on them, but the narrative is clear on this: “The old way is dead, and was dying for a long time before that. Long live the new.”

Luke is that new. Luke is the breaking of the cycle, the reforging of swords into ploughs, the extended hand. Luke says “I don’t care how much I was hurt, I refuse to hurt you back, and you don’t need to hurt me either.”

“We can end this together and choose love instead.”

And Darth Vader, killer of the Jedi, End of the Order, lays down his arms as well, and reaches back as Anakin, saying “You were right.”

It wasn’t Obi-Wan, Yoda, Mace, Qui-Gon, or even Ahsoka who achieved the ultimate victory in the end, following the tenants of the old Order. It was Luke. Young, inexperienced Luke, who saw that the age of legacy handed to him was only history, that the sword handed to him as his life was only a tool, and that the decrees of the dead were only advice. And he took it all, said “thank you for your experience, but I’ve got it from here,” and laid it all down to instead extend an open hand towards his enemy.

And his victory, his ultimate triumph, his vindication, was that he was proven right when his enemy reached back and became just another person. Just another person, just like him.

The Jedi did not deserve what happened to them, and they did not deserve to die. But the story is clear on this: the Jedi of old were wrong, and the Jedi of new, the Last Jedi, was right. No sword or death will ever end the rule of the sword or end the bloodshed. But love?

Love can ignite the stars.

[the-flaneur]

man on a mission (lh44)

pairing: agent!lewis hamilton x agent!reader

summary: there's a fine line between being professional and not, but lewis knows how to tread that fine line when it comes to you

warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW -> smut ft. rough sex, manhandling, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), slight breeding kink, possessive behaviour, brat!reader with brat tamer!lewis

wc: 3746

a/n: inspired by a little smut audio i was listening to the other day - hope you enjoy!

[masterlist] [requests]

you scoff as you read lewis’ last message. distracting my ass, you scoffed. glancing up, your eyes swept across the room to find the man. 

the two of you were now waiting for the rest of the boys to finish the mission. but as the clock ticked by, it was obvious that it was going to take far longer than expected.

you smirked when you found lewis’ dark eyes staring straight back at you - his leather jacket melting into the shadowed corner of the booth he was in. winking back at him, you downed a sip of your drink, your mind casting back to the events of the week.

the two of you had been hiding in an abandoned closet for almost two hours, just waiting for the enemy. your back had been pressed up against lewis’ firm chest, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist and his breath whispering against your ear. you shivered, remembering the quiet comments he had made and his quiet groans as you pushed back against him (totally on accident, of course).

however, when the two of you had left, he had walked over to george and lando without a second thought. leaving you horny, alone and confused…

turning your attention back to the crowd, you look to the bartender and ask for a menu. 

“put it on my tab sweetheart,” a man’s voice came from beside you. you turn around, facing a muscled arm planted beside you and looking up, you meet the gaze of another man.

“don’t bother with this. i’ll take a daiquiri, while the lady here will have a cosmo. put it on my tab,” he speaks smoothly to the bartender, who rushes away.

“why thank you…” you simper at him. 

“lucas,” he grins, placing a kiss on your hand, before taking a seat beside you. 

you don’t bother turning back towards lewis.

you know his eyes are on you.

lewis scowls, watching you toss your head back, the guy wrapping his fingers around your arm. that guy probably wasn’t even funny, just plain stupid, he scoffs. 

taking another sip, his eyes furrow when he sees the man’s eyes leering at you. you attempted to lean away, quickly putting your hand into your purse where lewis knew your knife was hidden. but when the man edges too close for comfort, lewis slams his glass down, storming towards you.

“hey princess, what's taking so long?” he says, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“don’t call me that,” you roll your eyes, leaning back into his arms. unlike the cold gaze of the other man, lewis’ presence was warm and comforting, and you couldn’t help but melt into his arms again.

“yeah, yeah. I know you hate it…so who's your little friend?” he scorns at the man, eyeing his drunken sway and hazy eyes. he hated the men and women who would try to chat you up whenever the agents went out; you were all his after all. 

“no one babe, he was just keeping me company while you were off getting drinks,” you giggle, a little happy that lewis was here to save you with his company. 

“sorry i didn’t know she was taken,”

“whatever man, just get out. this one’s in trouble,” he pulls you off the bar stool and back into the crowd. your stomach fluttered, and you felt a pounding beat of excitement in your chest

“you fucking brat,” lewis growls, dragging you into the women’s bathroom. he slammed open the door, before glancing at the stalls. 

all empty. 

perfect. 

he whips back around to find you leaning languidly against the sink, eyes blinking innocently.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he growled, stepping towards you. you roll your eyes, swinging your arms around lewis’ neck as he stands right in front of you, his breath inches away.

“i’m not doing anything silly,” you hissed, your ass pressed against the cold wet marble sink by lewis’ hips. he had you pinned there, like a pretty butterfly on a wall. his pretty butterfly.

“yeah you didn't get a chance to do anything cause I didn't let you,” he scoffs, watching your lashes flutter at the distance between the two of you.

“please, i have a fucking knife in my thigh holster. if he was gonna be a sleazebag, i would’ve cut his dick right off,” 

lewis huffed, pressing his thigh and growing hard-on against your pelvis in anger. you didn’t listen to anyone else, let alone your own commander, nor did you listen to your own desires and pull towards him…

“get the fuck off of me lewis” you cry out, squirming against the pressure. 

lewis chuckles, “oh stop struggling princess. if you didn’t want this, you could just stop me. you’re one of the most skilled agents,”

“bullshit, we both you’re stronger than me. now let go of me,”

your legs naturally fall open for him as his rough hand makes its way up your thigh, pinching the soft skin red. he laughs at your immediate obedience, but growls when he brushes against the wet patch collecting in your panties. 

“look what we have here. i guess i was right, you’re fucking dripping princess. is it all for me?” 

“no, it’s actually for luca–mrphf” you smirk, before lewis leans forward, roughly capturing your lips with his. his fingers dig further into your thighs, and you moan loudly. lewis pulls you further into him, shoving his tongue inside your mouth, growling at the intoxicating taste of you on his lips. his fingers still dance along the sensitive skin but not close enough to soothe the growing fire in your belly.

“god you’re such a fucking brat. just need me to put you in your place, huh?” he growls, harshly pressing a calloused, thick finger against your pussy. your eyes roll back as he begins to rub it, the friction stoking the flames inside of you. 

“look at you now. who would’ve known that the brave little princess who watches men die at her hands, is secretly just a little slut for anyone who touches her needy little body,” 

“mmmm…”

lewis smirks at your hazy eyes, unable to look him directly in the eye, “what was that? you want more?”

“yes please, sir,” you beg, your back arching towards him as his finger continues to move against your pussy. 

your head spins at the pressure, you already feel so high off the feeling of lewis almost fingering you. what would it be like with him inside of you?

“beg for it,” he growls, his hand roughly gripping your jawline as he pulls you towards him.

“sir, i want your fingers inside of me, please,” 

“so fucking greedy. do you think you deserve it, princess?”

“please?” you whine, trying to move your hips against his finger to feel the friction again. you beg again, but lewis still rubs his single finger, tracing your panties slowly, pressing slightly harder when he feels your wetness dripping even more. eventually he concedes, pressing another finger against your clit and rubbing it harshly. you can only sit there and moan as you feel the pressure building more and more, but eventually he stops. you whine as he pulls away, before he rests forehead against your own, a smile tugging at his lips. he looks back down at your dazed eyes, his eyebrow furrowing at your lack of response.

“y/n, are you sure you want this? we can stop if you don-”

he moans loudly as you grasp his collar tightly, pulling him in back towards your lips. his hands find the straps of your dress, pushing them roughly off your shoulders, revealing the lacy black lingerie hiding in plain sight.  

“okay fucking hell princess. i need your panties off. now,” he growls, his eyes lingering at your hardening nipples, poking through the fabric. you shimmy out of your panties, pulling them down your hips and legs; a dark wet stain evident as you pass them over to lewis, who pockets them in his jacket. he helps you hike your dress up, revealing your pussy to his eyes.

“oh fuck,” he moans, pulling back. his eyes travel up your legs, before stopping at the shiny wetness lingering around your pussy, “...you’re so beautiful,”

one of his hands grips your lower thighs, while slowly pushing two fingers inside your pussy. the two of you moan at the embarrassingly loud squelching sound that just came out, your pussy just sucks lewis’ fingers in. lewis groans at your tightness, it was even better than he imagined it would be. the warmth, the wetness, he could die between your thighs, buried in your pussy. your eyes roll to the back of your head as he curls his two fingers inside, pushing harshly against the sensitive spots inside of you. the cold metal rings rub against your clit, intensifying the pressure even more.

“was this all you needed? just some fucking attention from a man?” he growls, pushing a third finger inside of you. 

“no…just you sir,” he groans, pushing his fingers deeper and harder into you. they’re coated in your wetness, dripping down from his hands and onto the countertop beneath you.

“is this about the mission earlier this week?” you whimper, trying to dig your hips into his fingers, which have now slowed down. you squirm under his interrogative gaze, and nod slightly when he raises an eyebrow. you whisper shamefully about how you felt abandoned after the two hours in the closet, cause he didn’t talk to you. he just chuckles; he thought that you didn’t want to talk about it, considering he spent the whole time flirting with you and you just ignored him.

“...so instead of confronting me about it, you decided act like a fucking brat? you need to own up as well princess,” he whispers, caressing the small of your back, as he takes his fingers out of you. he presses them against your lips, your tongue darting out to taste yourself off his fingers; you both moan as you suck and moan around them.

“i’m sorry sir…” you giggle, as his fingers pop out from your mouth.

“little brat just wanted some attention, so she had to go fuck off with some other guy. i know you're sorry, but not as nearly as much as you're going to be, after this,”

“you’ve been a bad girl, and don't you want to be my good girl?”

pouting innocently, you push him away slightly, before getting off the countertop in front of him. turning around but still staring at him seductively through the mirror, you slowly unlatch your bra, letting it fall to the ground with your dress. he groans at the sight of your nipples and naked body, but growls when you bend forward, pressing your breasts against the cold marble countertop. your ass is pushed out towards him, and you shake it slightly as you watch his eyes transfix on the wetness from your pussy slowly dripping out. 

“i’ve been a bad girl, haven’t i sir? i think you should punish me,” you whisper coyishly, turning to face him and arching your back.

he groans loudly, palming himself through his leather pants, before he shoves them down, along with his boxers, revealing his painfully attractive cock. it was bigger and thicker than any you had seen (a ridiculous comparison considering you had only seen one other cock in your painfully dry sex life), but from what you had heard about other guys from your girls, it was definitely a monster.

“holy shit…”

“surprised princess? not everyone with a big ego lacks a big dick.”

“it’s literally not going to fit,”

“well, you're going to take it all. if it’s too big, i’ll make it fit. i’m marking your body and pussy as mine, and mine only. remember that you brat,” he growls, palming your ass with one hand as he drags the head of his cock against your entrance, coating it in your wetness. 

“are you ready? just arch your back a bit more,” he chuckles. as you nod, you can feel his cock pressing harshly against your tight entrance, before he slips the tip inside. even with that, you both moan loudly in unison, as your pussy begins to clench around the tip.

“there you go princess. just the tip for now. fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, gently thrusting the tip in and out of your greedy pussy. his eyes roll to the back of his head, as he feels the warmth and softness of your pussy just inviting him in to go deeper. his self-control is teetering on the edge, and he knows he can’t hold back much longer. your chest heaves as you feel the pressure inside of you building, how the fuck were you supposed to take his whole cock?

after a few minutes of his soft thrusting, lewis definitely needed to fuck you, otherwise he would blow his load too soon. “fuck princess, can i go in deeper yet?” he moans, his grip bruising your hips. there was definitely going to be a mark there tomorrow. 

“mmm…” you smirk, pushing your hips back further onto his cock. the more you pushed, the more his cock felt like it was splitting you into two. your face scrunched up as he soon followed, pushing you down onto his cock, as one of his hands traced up your stomach to your breasts. his hands grabbed your breasts, his thumb pushing against your nipples, as he slowly began to thrust further into your pussy. 

“you’ve thought about this, haven’t you? just wanting me to fuck your tight little pussy hard and rough?” 

“is that why you wore this tonight? showing off your body to everyone, but only letting me touch and fuck you?” 

“now spread those legs and let me push it all in. scream for me princess” you cry out loudly as he bottoms out in your pussy, his toned stomach pressed up against your ass. his cock throbs inside of you and brushes roughly against your walls; you can feel every small movement lewis makes, moulding your insides to the shape of his cock. he feels so overwhelmingly large and broad inside of you, that you can’t even string together any words to tell him. 

“sir…you’re too big, wait…” you plead, but he roughly gropes your ass, causing your pussy to tighten around him. “you’re going to take it like my good girl would. so don’t complain now, you wanted it,” he growls, before pulling out the whole way, and slamming back into you.

you keen loudly as your body jolts against the countertop, both his hands gripping your breasts as he begins to fuck you hard and rough. the slapping sound of his skin on your echoes in the empty bathroom, as the room begins to fill with the smell of sex and the mirror begins to fog up, with your face pressed so close to it. lewis drives his cock into you deep and hard, and the pressure inside of you is building faster than even. 

“princess, keep your eyes on me,” he growls, moving a hand up to grip your chin and tilting it up to meet your reflection in the mirror. you look like a pornstar, with your hair frazzled and out of place, your makeup smudged and dripping down your face, your neck, littered with hickies; you couldn’t be happier. lewis smirks at you through the mirror, clearly happy about the masterpiece he’s made of your body.

“let me rub that swollen little clit for you, huh princess?” he winks at you through the mirror. he watches your head lull slightly to the side, as he keeps pounding your pussy, relishing in the feeling of you pressed up against his body. “hey, stay with me. you’re drooling already?”

“guess i’ve already fucked you dumb on my cock,” he laughs as he keeps the hand around your neck while the other one moves down towards your clit; you’re all his now. his mouth bends towards your neck, nipping and biting at the soft skin; he’s leaving more marks, so you know who you belong too.

“god your screams are so fucking hot. i wanna hear them every night,”

“sir, i’m coming,” you moan, the coil in your belly right about to explode. he moans in your ear, egging you on to reach your peak.

“fuck lewis, i’m coming,” you scream loudly, as the pressure inside of you explodes. your legs and arms tremble as you feel your stomach tense, before you let out a gasping moan, as you cum. you sink down against the cold marble, as your pussy clenches violently around his cock, your cum dripping slowly out of you, before it’s fucked back in by lewis. 

“fuck i’m about to come as well, just hold on princess,” lewis groans, pushing his hips harder and deeper against yours. you keen at the overstimulation, your sore pussy getting pounded even more by lewis’ cock. he feels the pressure is right at the edge, and begins to pull out of your pussy to spray his cum across your back. however, he feels you wrap your ankles around his, locking him and his cock inside of you

“princess, what the fuck…i can't pull out if you…”

“i'm gonna cum inside you if you don-” lewis yells, as he pushes himself completely inside of you. his cock throbs violently as his thick and creamy load paints your walls white and mixes with your own.

you feel so heavy with all that cum inside of you, feeling stuffed to the brim. as you both catch your breath, lewis slowly turns you around on his cock, moaning lightly as it drags across your walls.

he pulls you in for a gentle kiss, a light touch to the effects of the rough pounding now ravaging your poor pussy. 

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” he laughs breathlessly, resting his forehead against yours, “...don’t you fucking smirk at me, you brat,”

“you’re mine too lewis,” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him into your arms.

“damn right i am,” he grins, before glancing at the countertop “...look at that. you squirted all over my cock.” you giggle, turning your head away from him, not wanting him to see the blush spreading hotly across your face. but lewis instead grips your chin, pulling you towards him.

“i…i’ve never done that before.” your eyes glance down at the ceramic floor, a thin puddle of wetness collecting beneath the sink. “did you like it though?” he asks with a smug grin. you would slap it off his face, but he deserves the ego after making you come like that.

“mhm…” 

he carefully pulls out of you, hissing slightly as your walls drag and slightly grip his cock. your combined release slowly drips out of your cunt, the milky white cum tracing its way down your thighs. his cock stirs again seeing your cum combined in such a way; he’s marked your body, inside and out.

he hums slightly, circling two fingers around your entrance before pressing them inside, roughly fingering the cum back inside. your pussy clenches at the overstimulation and you moan softly, but lewis just grins at you.

grabbing some paper napkins, he gently wipes your thighs clean, but leaves the sticky remnants of your tryst at your hole. he can’t have you forgetting who owns you now, can he? 

“lewis…” 

“y/n…”

“can i have my panties back yet?”

“sorry princess. i’m keeping these. just a little reminder of tonight, and many more nights to come.” he passes you your crumpled dress, helping you pull it over your head before smoothing down your frazzled hair. you attempt to take a step forward towards the door, but you sway on your feet before toppling slightly back, falling into lewis’ arms. 

“guess i’ll have to carry you. a ride fit for a princess,” he smirks. he gently picks you up, wrapping one arm around your legs and the other caressing the small of your back. lewis is careful not to rub his fingers over your clit once more as he smooths your dress back down, running his hand over your hips.

“i’ve got you,”

pushing open the bathroom door, the booming music and darkened lighting of the club make you recoil, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, finding comfort in his familiar scent. he lets out a small chuckle, pulling you tighter into him.

“hey look, the boys are here now…” he smirks, walking towards their table. lewis tells you about it later, but you really wished you had seen the gobsmacked faces as they realised it was you in his arms. nodding a hello, the smirk on his face fueled what the boys had already been thinking when they had arrived, unable to find you or lewis.

“is she ok?” oscar mumbles, eye wide as he takes in your messy hair, smudged makeup and crumpled dress. carlos smirks behind his glass as lando reluctantly smacks a 50 dollar note in his hand. it was so easy to win bets against lando, especially when carlos already saw the glances between you two earlier this week at the mission.

“oh her? she'll be fine. say hi, princess…” 

you awkwardly turn your neck towards the group, yawning slightly as your head falls back. you feel like you’re in a dream, with the smell of sex lingering on your skin and lewis’ rough hands cupping your body next to him, sending you into a delirium. lewis' voice mumbles above your own, his chest rumbling with every laugh pulled from his lips. it was nice to be taken care of.

“what happened?...nothing she didn't already want. isn't that right princess?”

☆

max and charles stumble out of the men's bathroom, hair messier than when they entered and faces and lips flushed red, evident even in the darkness of the club.

"carlos is never going to let us forget that this happened" charles sighs, pointing resignedly at the security camera right in front of the bathroom door. the red blinker blinks four times quickly in succession, then twice again. and then again.

“oh fuck off carlos,”

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[gffa]

I just need a hug. A YouTuber I respected, Jessie Gender, tweeted that the Jedi deserved to end (though at least she had the decency to say it shouldn't have been in genocide). Ugh, it's hard to exist in fandom when everyone seems ready to judge the Jedi as cops and not a culture that palpatine eradicated.

Virtual hugs, anon. It's really hard to lose respect for a creator you once admired--and going to check out their tweet, oh, I see we're calling the Buddhist Christians again--and I try to be understanding, not a lot of people really know enough about non-Western dominant religions to realize the often xenophobic/imperialistic undertones to describing Buddhism as such (or my other favorite, calling the Buddhist-inspired religion a "cult"), as if Christianity is the default. At least they acknowledged that what happened was a genocide and didn't say it was their own fault/something they did. But here's my real advice, the only way I've found to make myself feel better after something like this: Go on a Jedi-positive spree. Don't vagueblog, that won't make you feel better in the long run, but address some of the things that frustrate you. Like, I would tweet out a, "Hey, you wanna see a list of all the times the Jedi said really nice things about Anakin?" or "Hey you wanna see a list of all the times the Jedi died to protect someone?" or "Hey you wanna see all the times the Jedi express emotion and said feelings were normal?" or "Hey you remember that time TCW explicitly showed us how the Jedi actually had no real power within the framework of the government? And we can see that they were were only there to better facilitate saving lives, because that's how you effect change on a galactic level, instead of idk charging people money to fly around the galaxy in ships and eat food?" Tweet out a series of George Lucas quotes about how the Jedi were right about stuff or how they were limited in Shitty Choice A or Shitty Choice B. This builds something positive, it makes it more fun to be around you and draw more people to you, and you will feel better. It sucks to lose respect for someone you liked, but just remember. No amount of fan opinions can touch what the movies and TCW and George Lucas' interviews, and ultimately it's still just Star Wars. We cannot live and die by a made up fictional story, I've tried and it sucks so much more than just shrugging my shoulders, saying to myself that someone has Bad Star Wars Takes, and sailing on off. Lots of hugs, anon, and I hope you can find comfort that there are still lots of us having fun over here in our Actually The Jedi Were Pretty Right About Everything corner. ^_~

[brrmian]

something that so many star wars fans somehow fail to realize is that george lucas always intended for the fall of the republic to be a completely unavoidable tragedy. that’s what makes it such brilliant storytelling.

placing the blame on just one party in the galaxy-wide farce that was the clone wars just isn’t interpreting the story the way its writer intended. neither is saying that all players should be held equally accountable. i don’t think the jedi were at fault for the state of the republic, and (despite the fact that he did horrible things) neither was anakin, on a galactic or governmental scale.

the real villain is palpatine, who shaped the government into a corrupt system by his own hand. the blame for turning a democratic republic into an authoritarian dictatorship (which it was long before it became the empire) under the noses of thousands of incredibly corrupt politicians must be placed entirely on him, and him alone.

by the end of the war, the jedi council recognized that they had already lost the ability to hold onto what it truly means to be a jedi. in their prime during the days of the old republic, the jedi knights were “the guardians of peace and justice.” they’re meant to as diplomats, peacekeepers, mediators, and public servants. when the clone wars began, they were essentially forced into being soldiers, generals, and quasi-politicians by palpatine and the senate. all of those things are antithetical to the jedi’s beliefs, but they had no other choice.

placing even the smallest bit of blame on the jedi for anything leading to the republic’s downfall—and their own—is not only unfair, it’s factually incorrect. the jedi order is a monastic organization. they have no say in the senate and no voting power. saying they’re corrupt, when in fact they were just as conned by palpatine as the rest of the galaxy, is victim-blaming and scapegoating.

palpatine shoved the jedi face first into fighting the war, and pretty much threw the clone army into their laps on top of that. the jedi had no say in the matter, and they certainly had no say in the war itself being started, either. because he controlled both sides, palpatine was able to make the CIS and the republic declare war on each other even though its citizens wanted the same outcome: political independence and survival. if not for palpatine’s schemes, the separatists would have been allowed to secede peacefully, the republic would have continued existing, and the war would have been completely avoided. but that was unfortunately not the case.

so in a galaxy thrown into an unavoidable war by its own secret dictator, with an army of sentient slaves suddenly at their command, and the risk of billions of deaths at the hands of the droid army imminently approaching, what do the galaxy’s official peacekeepers have no other choice but to do? be peacekeepers. why wouldn’t the sworn defenders of the galaxy be out on the battlefields trying to end the war? if they sat in the temple and did nothing, they simply wouldn’t be jedi.

the jedi were forced into a lose/lose situation. every religion and organization has faults, but that doesn’t place any blame on them for the catch-22 they were trapped into falling for. when the clone wars started—and the key point here is that it never should have in the first place—the jedi still needed to be jedi. unfortunately for them, that meant having positions of power not meant for them being thrust upon their shoulders. they couldn’t drop the burden, because that meant actively choosing not to save lives—but the other option, becoming soldiers despite the tenet of their beliefs that dictates they shouldn’t, was no better.

see what a cruel trap palpatine set? it’s like a fish being caught in a fisherman’s net. the net is spread out across the ocean floor, and the fish swim above it, not knowing that the trap is waiting to be drawn in around them from below. in the end, when the net starts to tighten, dragging them closer to the surface, they can’t swim fast enough to escape from the middle to the edge—and to safety—before the net is completely tied. it’s the cruelest kind of trap: the kind that gives you just the right amount of time to think you can escape while being sprung just quick enough to make actually escaping impossible.

in the end, the order actively chose to fight the war because they needed to. there was no other way to continue on as who they were. militarizing the order was not the right choice in a vacuum, but this was not that; this was a situation in which every galaxy-changing choice was the wrong one. the jedi knew they were making a decision that drew them farther away from their beliefs, but it was the lesser of an infinite list of evils, and they didn’t see the walls closing in on them until it was too late.

lucas himself has even said that the order was not corrupt or decaying from the inside, nor did they make a series of bad choices that ultimately led to their own destruction. they were always just trying to do the right thing—but unlike literally everything else in fiction, the jedi order’s death was completely unaffected by any of the choices they made. no matter what they did, they were always going to lose. the fall of the republic wasn’t caused by its defenders choosing what they saw as the least bad choice. it didn’t come down to any decisions, political or not, that the jedi council made with the limited tools that they had. it certainly didn’t come down to one emotionally unstable twenty-three-year-old’s slow descent into insanity, either. the republic and the jedi would still have been destroyed with or without anakin’s unhinged nervous breakdown.

anakin, just like the order, the republic, and the separatists, was taken advantage of by palpatine. even if a person’s choices are their own, they don’t exist in a vacuum.

anakin would have made better choices if not for palpatine, but he didn’t. the jedi order would have kept the peace if not for palpatine, but no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t. the republic, and democracy with it, would not have crumbled if not for palpatine. not the order, not anakin, not the separatists, and not the republic.

in the end, they were all just pawns in a decades-spanning plan, one that none of them saw coming until it was too late—and by then, it was already irreversible.

[cielie-voss]

Breathe with me.

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Anxiety strikes at the worst times, and tonight - out with Eddie Munson for the long-awaited premiere of Return of the Jedi - is no exception. But Eddie, with his calm presence, has a way of making everything feel manageable - even the chaos in your mind.

Warnings: Anxiety/panic attacks, Depictions of physical symptoms related to anxiety

Wordcount: 996

Taglist: @violettsoul @princesssunderworld

Masterlist

The line for the theater seemed to stretch on forever, people bustling around, excited chatter filling the air. You glanced up at the marquee, the words "Star Wars: The Return of the Jedi" shining in bold lights.

Eddie’s been talking about this movie for weeks. It’s been all about The Force this, lightsabers that. And he was practically buzzing with energy now that you were finally here, ready to see it together, his arm slung over your shoulder as you both joined the line for tickets.

But while Eddie’s enthusiasm was infectious, you were struggling to match it. The closer you got to the front of the line, the more your chest tightened, your heartbeat a quickened staccato.

"I swear, if they mess up Han Solo's storyline, I'm never forgiving George Lucas," he said, his voice animated and carefree.

You were trying to hold it together, trying to focus on Eddie’s voice as he animatedly talked about the upcoming film, but everything was starting to blur and the sounds around you became distorted, like they were coming from far away. The noise, the people, it's all crashing over you. The world felt too close, too loud, simply too much.

His voice trailed off, eyes narrowing with concern after a few moments, noticing the shift in your posture. “Hey…” His voice was soft, and he tilted his head to catch your gaze. “You okay?”

You couldn’t respond, not really, all you could do was squeeze his hand tighter as anxiety took hold, creeping up like a shadow you couldn't escape. The familiar claws of anxiety started to grip you. Your breath hitched, shallow and uneven, the weight on your chest made it feel like the air wasn't reaching your lungs.

His warm brown eyes kept darting to you, watching as your breathing quickened, your hands fidgeting by your sides. Eddie shifted, gently, he took your hands in his, his rough fingers curling around yours. He moved closer, shielding you from the crowd with his body.

The ground beneath you seemed to tilt and your grip around his hand tightened. But Eddie didn’t seem fazed. He never did. Instead, he gave you a soft, reassuring smile, his thumbs gently rubbing circles on the back of your hands.

“I’ve got you, alright?” Eddie said, his voice low, soothing. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a sign that you’re still there, still with him.

“We’re gonna try something, okay? You trust me?” His voice was calm, soothing, as though he’d done this a thousand times before. He slowly guided your hands to rest on his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath your palms. You could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“Feel that? That’s me breathing, nice and slow. Can you match it?”

You tried. You really did. But it’s hard to concentrate with everything spinning out of control in your head. Eddie’s hands tightened ever so slightly around yours, his eyes never leaving yours as you got frustrated, your breaths were still ragged and uneven, as if you forgot how to breathe.

And then, he started to hum. A low, deep sound that reverberated through his chest, through your hands. It was like nothing you had expected, the sound resonating not just in his body, but in yours too, like the hum was reaching into the core of you, shaking the anxiety loose.

There was something about the way he looked at you, so sure that you could do this, that made you feel safe and grounded, even in the midst of one of those nasty panic attacks. You focused on the hum vibrating beneath your hands, on the rise and fall of his chest. Slowly, tentatively, you hummed with him, your voice joining his. You matched his rhythm, inhaling deeply as you focused on the vibration in your hands, the calming tone of his hum that drowned out the chaos around you. He kept humming, his gaze locked with yours, his thumbs still tracing slow, soothing patterns on your skin. The two of you created a soft, harmonious vibration that seemed to drown out the noise of the world around you

But in the chaos of your mind, where the waves of everything around kept violently crushing down on you, threatening to drown you, Eddie and his soothing hum felt like an anchor and the tightness in your chest began to ease. The world didn’t feel so overwhelming anymore. The panic that had been clawing at the edges of your mind began to slip away, bit by bit, like the tide receding from the shore. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you were able to take a full, deep breath without the tightness in your chest.

“There she is,” he whispered, eyes crinkling with pride. He gave your hands one more squeeze before gently lowering them from his chest. His grin widened, more mischievous now, the Eddie you knew and loved. “We’re gonna kick anxiety’s ass, one hum at a time.”

With the edge of your anxiety dulled, the crowd no longer felt as suffocating, and you found yourself breathing easier, with Eddie by your side. The panic was still there, lurking at the edges, but it was no longer overwhelming. It was manageable. He made it manageable, everything about him was grounding.

As you finally reached the ticket counter, Eddie turned to you with a wide grin. “So, ready to take on the galaxy?”

With him by your side, the answer was easy. You nodded, feeling more at ease than you had all night. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

And as you followed him, you couldn’t help but feel that, no matter what battles lay ahead - whether in a galaxy far, far away or inside your own mind - Eddie would always be there, humming beside you, keeping you steady.

[david-talks-sw]

"I blame Red Riding Hood's Mom!"

"Obi-Wan was a parent surrogate for Anakin, but was terrible at it. He tried to instruct Anakin in the austere, objective Jedi way, but didn’t notice that Anakin did not have a foundation of humanity on which a conscience and good decision-making are based. Obi-Wan looked on Anakin as a brother... but Anakin needed a father. And there was no father. [The Prequel Jedi] unprepared to deal with, to guide, someone who was deeply mired in that world." - Aaron Allston, Star Wars Insider #145, 2013

"Obi-Wan trains Anakin, at first, out of a promise he makes to Qui-Gon, not because he cares about him. [...] He's a brother to Anakin, eventually, but he's not a father figure. That's a failing for Anakin. He doesn't have the family that he needs." - Dave Filoni, Disney Gallery: Mandalorian, “Legacy” 2020

"Anakin— yeah he ultimately makes the choice to turn to the Dark Side… but he has not, like… all of the systemic support that someone should have - when they experience trauma at the ages that he has experienced trauma - like, he has none of that, there." - Mike Chen, Star Wars Explained, 2022

The above statements are provably inaccurate, but hey it's a take that can be had. Sure. There's always more that could've been done.

Thing is, Anakin's story is one about personal responsibility. Per George Lucas, the core message of Star Wars, as a whole, is about you - dear viewer aged 6 to 12 who are starting to think for themselves - learning to be more selfless than selfish, more compassionate than greedy.

Anakin's story shows what happens when you don't do that.

Blaming the Jedi Order/Obi-Wan for what happened to Anakin is the same as arguing:

"Red Riding Hood getting eaten by the Wolf is her Mom's fault! What was she thinking, sending a child out to wander alone?! Of course she got eaten by a Wolf, she a kid, she don't know better!"

You can argue that. You can argue that Red Riding Hood's Mom should've gone with her to see Grandma. But that's not the point of the story, the point is "kids, don't try to take the quick/easy path because it's usually dangerous, and don't talk to strangers."

And I've yet to meet someone who would unironically blame Red Riding Hood's Mom. Because it's obvious that doing so would miss the point entirely.

Yet we do have a big chunk of the fandom whose takeaway from the Prequels is that Anakin's fall is on the Jedi's shoulders, even though that also misses the point.

That only indicates, to me, that what it's really about is...

For one generation, coping with a dislike of the Prequels. Trying to make them make sense and coming up with a headcanon that makes them "good," and nuanced.

For the younger audiences (first the one the Prequels were meant for but now also the Disney-era one), it's just them reciting what they've seen in the movies... which have been recontextualized and retconned through media written by people coming from that previous generation listed in point 1.

[thatfandomslut]

Project Flowers

Gretchen Wieners x Reader

Word Count: 3k - I got very carried away with this one.

Trigger Warnings: insecurity, explicit language, tooth-rotting fluff

Request:

Hello, there! Do you write for Mean Girls? If so, I would like to request a Gretchen Wieners x reader fluff, please? Reader is new to school and has four brothers---the oldest used to date Regina. Regina and the brother, seeing Gretchen's growing crush on the reader, decides to play match-maker. One night, Regina convinces the reader to go with her to a "hang-out" where Gretchen is waiting with flowers.

Mean Girls requests are open.

"North Shore High is all about their cliques, which is why you're so lucky to have us." Lucas pulled on his varsity jacket, fixing his hair in the reflection of his car window. The action made (Y/n) roll her eyes with crossed arms as Michael slung his bag around his shoulders, nodding in agreement. As much as (Y/n) loved her brothers and begged to be able to attend public school, she was being reminded of how conceited and full of themselves her brothers truly were. It was the most amazing but unfortunate experience to have four older brothers while joining a new school where they were high on the social pyramid. "You will have to do a sport though. Maybe you'd like track?"

Daniel gently clapped his back to shut him up before gesturing towards the school. "Ready for your first day, (Y/n)? Sophomore year isn't all that bad. Plus, you're in AP English with James, so you'll at least have someone you know for a period." Daniel offered some comfort. He was the kinder of the four, Lucas being the more narcissistic of them. But she loved them all equally. "I think we all have to same lunch, too. So, hopefully, we'll see you then. Come on, guys, let's leave her be. Let's let her get some experience with normal school and get off her back." He tried to lead her brothers away.

"Don't talk to any of the horny douchebag boys here!" Called out Michael, pointing at her. Some passersby glanced her way, but she shrugged it off. She wasn't planning on talking to any boy if she could help it. If there was anything that her all-girls private school taught her, it was that girls were so much better. Still, she took heed of Michael's warning and attempted to steer clear of all of the boys who looked her over like she was a prize to be one throughout the hallway. Instead, she saw a different familiar face.

Regina George looked just as beautiful as she did when she last saw her. She had powerful red, pouty lips with eyeliner so sharp, it could cut someone. "(Y/n)," her voice cut through the hall, sounding more like a question as everyone stopped to see who she was talking to. Regina was never mean to her, and Regina's breakup with Lucas didn't end messy. Maybe that was because it was a summer fling, though. "I thought you went to North Shore All-Girls Academy?" She approached, two girls following her. One of the girls had dark brown hair with chocolate-colored eyes that had no thought behind them. The other girl, however; caused her breath to hitch in the back of her throat as she made eye contact with her. She had honey-blonde hair that fell in ringlets at the bottom of her hair, and her eyes were a soft amber.

"I wanted to come here with my brothers. It was a regretful idea saying as they want me to hang out with them during lunch." She hummed, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Regina wasn't one to hug anyone, so when she hugged (Y/n), everyone was caught off guard. (Y/n) hugged back happily as she allowed the blonde to give her a gentle squeeze pulling away. The other two girls behind Regina stared at her due to how out-of-character Regina was being. However, neither of them said nothing. "Plus, since Lucas was too dumb, I don't get to see you as much."

Regina flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder as she began leading (Y/n) and the other girls away from the ogling crowd. (Y/n) was in a state of awe at how popular Regina seemed to be. It threw her off guard in a way. "This is Karen Shetty and Gretchen Wieners," she introduced the two, grabbing the schedule from (Y/n)'s hand. She seemed to be showing her where to go, so (Y/n) didn't protest the snatch. "And don't worry about spending your lunch with your brothers, you can eat with us. This is your homeroom. Your next class is upstairs, turn right, third door." Regina said simply, passing the schedule back before stopping at a classroom. (Y/n) thanked her before entering the class, many other sophomores staring widely at her. She didn't understand why, still not getting the gravity that hanging out with Regina held on the student body.

Around lunchtime, (Y/n) wandered the halls, and headed towards the cafeteria. It wasn't too hard to find. There were too many signs indicating where it was. Before she could enter, Regina, Gretchen, and Karen found her first. "Hello, (Y/n)," Gretchen waved, smiling brightly. The smile caused a slight flutter in (Y/n)'s chest, heat rising to her ears as she waved back. Normally, Regina would comment on not having the first word, but she noticed how flustered both Gretchen and (Y/n) were acting with each other. So, she said nothing as they went to the lunch line. "So, the rules are, you can't wear a tank top two days in a row, you can only wear a ponytail once a week, jeans and track pants can only be worn on Fridays, and on Wednesdays we wear pink. You have to follow these rules, or you're not allowed to sit with us." Gretchen told (Y/n) as she sat beside her. (Y/n) nodded at her words, Regina still eyeing them closely.

"I got you, then. Those rules aren't too hard to follow. Maybe I can get your number so you can remind me to wear pink on Wednesday?" (Y/n) asked, causing Gretchen to clumsily pull out her phone so they could exchange numbers. Regina smirked slightly, realizing how smooth it was (Y/n). After all, she had Regina's number, she could always have asked her to remind her. She had a feeling by all of Gretchen's questions on the way to homeroom, that it was because the girl was interested in her ex's little sister. "Thanks, I'll just text you tonight to make sure I got the rules down, if you don't mind."

Gretchen shook her head kindly, hoping her hair could hide the blush forming on her cheeks. At this final display, Regina stood up, causing Karen, Gretchen, and (Y/n) to look her way. "I'm going to go get cheese fries." She excused herself before finding Lucas and pulling him into the lunch line with her. "Your sister is flirting with my friend," Regina said, causing Lucas's eyes to practically bulge out of his head as he stared at her for a long moment. "I think they'd be cute together. You're going to help me get them together by Spring Fling, at least." Regina stated, and Lucas could only nod. He knew not to defy Regina, he was smarter than that. And that is how Project Flowers commenced. It was an opportunity, that through time would help Gretchen and (Y/n) get together. Because Regina knew them both, and she knew that they were going to need help. Specifically, they needed Regina's help.

Regina allowed herself a few of weeks in order to let the two develop their relationship as friends before dropping hints to the girls that they liked each other, or she would mention different outfits she knew the other would like. "You know Gretchen, that one crop top you wore to the mall when we took Cady shopping, I overheard (Y/n) telling Karen how good you looked in it." Regina would say as she talked to Gretchen. "(Y/n), Gretchen absolutely adores your smile." She would say to (Y/n). But she was getting relentless with the responses of 'Are you sure?' Of course, she was sure. She was never wrong about anything, and she was not wrong about their feelings. Lucas also played his part, telling Gretchen little things that (Y/n) enjoyed. He would also tell (Y/n) about how he and Regina were talking about things Gretchen liked. Which always confused (Y/n) on why they brought Gretchen up, but she ignored this fact and got everything that was mentioned for Gretchen.

She was getting annoyed at all the gushing and blushing that (Y/n) and Gretchen did with each other. Their inadvertent flirting and their obliviousness killed Regina. It almost made her want to throw up in annoyance. But what was worse was the fact that they would do little things, like touch the other's hand, and then they'd pull away from each other quickly. It made Regina want to take their hands and force their fingers to intertwine together. She never thought she'd care about a relationship other then her own until she saw how disgusting in love her friends were getting for each other.

"Here's the plan, Lucas, listen up. I know you have trouble listening, so please put your listening ears on." Regina spoke to him like a child, but he didn't mind. Instead, he just listened to the blonde as he sat at a desk in the empty classroom they were in. Shane was trailing after Regina like a lost puppy but had no clue what was going on. "Tonight, I'm going to talk to Gretchen, and you need to talk to (Y/n). Then, I am going to ask her to hang out, but I am not going to be there. It's going to be Gretchen. Understood? So, somehow find out what kind of flowers she likes. For Gretchen, of course."

Lucas nodded briefly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Glancing over at Shane, he raised his brows momentarily. "Okay, sounds good." He stood up, getting ready to leave. After all, he was his siblings' ride, and they would get suspicious if he was any later to leave for the car. Still, he stopped before exiting. "Hey, Regina… You doing this for Gretchen and (Y/n)… It's nice to see you have a heart. But, also, just so you know, you deserve love, too. You and I both know Aaron and Shane are phases. Sorry, Shane." Regina narrowed her eyes at him as he smirked playfully before leaving. He knew she could kill him with that stare. However, he knew that Regina deserved love, too, and he saw the way she looked at Cady.

"Where were you?" (Y/n) questioned, still leaning on the car. Her question was directed at Lucas, but her eyes were on Gretchen talking animatedly to Karen in the distance. The ghost of a smile played on her lips and Daniel nudged her shoulder to let her know they were piling in. Since she was the shortest, she was required to sit in the middle so Lucas could see out of the back windshield. Forgetting her question, and forgetting that it never got answered, she got in. A small part of her wanted to look back at Gretchen, but she forced herself to get in and ignore that feeling of want that settled in the pit of her stomach. Especially because she knew Gretchen would never like her that way. Still, she got out her phone to send a quick text to the girl.

As they drove, Lucas looked back at (Y/n) using the mirror, who was still texting. The smile on her face let him know who she was talking to. Then, he remembered he needed to know her favorite flower. The good thing was that (Y/n) was in the social reject group of band nerds. How Regina ever let that slide was beyond Lucas. However, she had a concert that weekend and it was the perfect excuse to ask her what flowers she would like. "Hey, (Y/n), for your band concert this weekend," he got her attention, her eyes flickering up to look at him, even if his eyes were currently on the road. "What kind of flowers would you like us to bring you?" He inquired, delivering a quick glance before looking back at the road.

All of the boys, excluding Lucas, were now looking at (Y/n)- they were very supportive. Still, all of the eyes on her made her nervous. "Well, it's going to sound basic, but my favorite flowers are pink roses. So, I guess, if you all were to bring flowers, I would want those." She answered, hoping this would get their attention off of her. For one of the Plastics, she didn't like all of the attention. Not even from family. But that probably came with being the youngest girl in a family of four older brothers. There was constantly so much attention on her, that it was sometimes suffocating. With that said, when it came to Gretchen's attention, she wanted it. She wanted Gretchen to look at her. She loved it when Gretchen smiled at her. It was like she was Ken in the new Barbie movie.

A text pinged on her phone and she looked down, hoping it was from Gretchen, but instead, she saw it was from Regina. 'Hey, loser <3, meet me at the park at 7,' it read. Typing a quick confirmation, she got ready but before she could, she was stopped by Lucas who had a suspiciously caring smile on her face. She knew a big talk was coming and she dreaded getting elder brother advice from Lucas of all her older brothers.

"I just wanted to talk to you about Gretchen. I know, because I see how you look at her, and how you look at yourself, that you don't feel good enough." He said, causing surprise to grow on her face. How he knew how she was feeling was beyond her. But maybe she sold him out short. Maybe he did pay attention to more than just himself. "You are good enough for Gretchen. You are so kind and caring, (Y/n). And I can see it in Gretchen's face that she sees that in you. You need to go for it. You've got this."

A smile fell on her face as she embraced her brother. "Thank you," she whispered as he hugged back. He left her room as she changed into something more comfortable but still within Plastics standards. As she got ready for the park, she texted Gretchen and asked if she'd be at the park, too. After waiting a few moments, she tried not to pout at the lack of response before grabbing a jacket and making her way over to meet Regina. Maybe it was just a hangout with only Regina. She felt guilty all of a sudden, hoping she didn't make Gretchen feel left out. Then the overthinking came in, and she wondered if she should even go. On the other hand, Regina would be pissed if she didn't make it. Even if she was kinder to (Y/n) than most people, it didn't make her immune to Regina's quips now and again.

Making her way through the park, she was surprised to see Gretchen at the tree. Squinting slightly, (Y/n) could see that she was holding something. Looking around, she noticed that there was no sign of Regina, so she decided to make her way over. "Hey, Gretchen," she greeted, startling the honey-blonde girl. She finally noticed that in Gretchen's hands were her favorite flowers, and she was starting to realize what was going on. She was tricked into coming here to meet Gretchen by Regina and her brother. Her brother wasn't asking about the rose for the concert- though her brothers would still get her flowers. And Regina staged the hangout, and she must've convinced Gretchen to come out here.

"(Y/n), hey! I was waiting for you." Gretchen bit her lip nervously, extending the roses over to (Y/n). (Y/n) blinked before smiling slowly. Looking up at Gretchen with a wide smile, she started to see the confidence starting to circulate in her amber eyes. "I've been wanting to talk to you about something. So, Regina told me to meet you here and to tell you. So I'm going to go for it." Gretchen gave herself a moment, breathing in. (Y/n) wanted to kiss her right then and there, but she also wanted to hear what she wanted to say. "I really like you. You are so caring and kind. You're funny, smart, and creative. You mean everything to me, and I really want to go on a date with you. We could get coffee or boba together. But also, I really want to be your girlfriend."

(Y/n) gently took a step forward, and with one hand (the other was still clutching the flowers), she pulled Gretchen in. The two girls looked at each other for a moment before Gretchen nodded and (Y/n) completed the distance between them. Kissing her deeply, she felt Gretchen's hands cup the back of her neck. Everything felt complete, and (Y/n) had to stop smiling in the kiss. "I really want to be your girlfriend, too, Gretchen." (Y/n) whispered on her lips, causing Gretchen to kiss her again happily.

"About time," Regina said with her arms crossed, standing next to Lucas, who was looking away respectfully. He obviously didn't want to intrude on his little sister's first kiss. "I thought by the time you two got the balls to ask each other out, we'd be in an elderly home," Regina stated with a quick wink, the other two girls red in the face. "I hope you two have a good time at your picnic. Never say I didn't do something for you. Lucas, the basket, let's go."

The words confused the girls until they noticed Lucas holding the picnic basket in his hands, passing it to his sister. (Y/n) smiled shyly, thanking him before Regina and Lucas went their separate ways. Gretchen and (Y/n) laughed for a moment before going through the basket to find a mix of their favorite snacks. Setting up the area, the two stayed out until the night fell, creating their constellation, their hands connecting them like stars in the night sky, (Y/n) looked over at Gretchen, smiling when she turned over, too. (Y/n) noted in her mind that Gretchen was prettier than all the stars before placing a gentle kiss on Gretchen's lips, Gretchen reciprocating gently. Nothing could ever ruin this moment, (Y/n) decided as she pulled away, smiling widely at the girl. Gretchen turned her head once more and (Y/n) did, too, as they continued to stargaze.

[kennahjune]

Teen Dad AU

Part 7!! (??)

I’m losing track.

More Steddie interactions (kinda?)! Plus Steve and Louie and the kids :))

I’m so excited for this one aaahhhhh!!!!!

I’m starting this on my 15th bday lmaoooo

(Update it is now 2 months after my bday, HAPPY pride month everyone!!)

Tag list:

@cam-cat-writer @jackiemonroe5512 @finntheehumaneater @irregular-child @grimmfitzz @fantrash @bookworm0690 @fiddledeedee85 @hunterbow04 @strangeforest @just-a-tiny-void @jaimeweasley13 @thelittleclare @rebellatio-03 @sirsnacksalot @geekyfifi @sapphireoceansoc @salty-h0e @dragonmama76 @mentallyundone-blog @lingeringmirth @moomkin77 @netflixisacopingstrategymom @jaytriesstuff @goodolefashionedloverboi @hellfirebaby-86 @blu3stars @blackpanzy @strawberryyyenthusiast @lololol-1234 @thestarslittleking @silenzioperso @forest-fogg @bebopbabyy @lawrencebshaggoth @stevesbipanic @dauntlessdiva @live0rdive @y4r3luv @jonesn4coffee @sofadofax @sensationalsunburst @scarlet-malfoy @l393ndjean @asspirin-s @fandomz-brainrot @mugloversonly @virginlemontea @littlebluejane @paintsplatteredandimperfect @astrid-nomically-steddie @maferisa-7 @phantomrose17 @thoughtfulbreadpolice @fandomnerd103 @atemisiscursed @croatoan-like-its-hot @myownworstenemyyy

.

Steve didn’t want to leave the kitchen.

“Get the hell out there, Harrington!” George scolded him. “It’s a bunch of middle schoolers!”

Yeah, Steve refused to serve a table of middle schoolers. Because they weren’t /just/ middle schoolers.

They were his middle schoolers.

Accompanied by Miss. Byers and Jonathan.

Steve internally groaned. He had been completely avoiding and refusing to tell any of them where he worked and had sworn Hopper to secrecy. Dramatic? Sure. But valid? Absolutely.

Those kids were menaces. Even Will in his own way, giving Steve one of those sweet smiles of his to get him to give them rides almost whenever. Ugh.

The point is; Steve didn’t want to the Brat Bridge to know where he worked. Because then they’d come just about everyday to harass him.

But a teasing comment about “Scaredy Steve” from Mason had Steve punching Mason in the arm and marching out into the actual diner.

Gwen walked past him into the kitchen with a tray of dirty dishes. She clapped him on the shoulder with a sly smile. “Good luck, they’re a loud bunch.”

Steve sighed. “Trust me, I know.”

Five kids, one teen, and one adult. Steve would be fine. It’d be totally fine. He sees these people like every goddamn day—

“Steve!”

He’s been spotted.

Steve gave a strained smile to Dustin, who was actually bouncing in his chair between Mike and Max, who were both looking at him like a freaky big they’d never seen before.

“What are you doing here?” Lucas chirped, across from Dustin, grinning ear to ear. Will sat quietly next to him but smiled at Steve when they made eye contact.

Steve crossed his arms and popped his hip, a small grin of his own plastering his face. “I work here, Sinclair. Now what does the Brat Pack want?”

A chorus of shouts of different menu items flew at Steve all at once. He chuckled quietly, and then groaned louder— just to be a dramatic shit.

“One at a time! You learned how to take turns in kindergarten, didn’t you? Or are you guys still there?”

Dustin and Mike immediately protested, Max making a dig at Steve’s “elementary school IQ”. While the three of them argued with a not-listening Steve, Steve turned his attention to Will and Lucas.

Orders were placed quickly after. Steve turning to Jonathan and Joyce after the kids.

When he gave the paper to Mason the raised eyebrow he got back held thousands of questions. Questions Steve ignored with a smirk and wave of his hand.

.

His shift that day was rowdy and filled with teasing and laughter. Not much different than usual but it was warmer. More comforting. The kids didn’t leave with Miss. Byers, opting to stay behind with Jonathan and wait until Steve’s shift ended.

Allya and George waved Steve off about closing, insisting they’d get to it themselves.

So, Steve and Jonathan split the brats up between their cars; Lucas, Mike and Dustin with Steve, Max and Will with Jonathan.

“Steve can we go to your house? Please?” Dustin begged, hanging off of Steve’s arm while they all walked to the cars. Steve pretended to think about it, already knowing full well that he’d give in and let them storm his trailer.

He sighed dramatically, just for shits and giggles, before agreeing. Because he’s a giant push over.

Steve and Jonathan split the kids up and Jonathan followed Steve all the way to trailer park.

“Hang on—“ Dustin slapped Steve’s arm from his seat in the passengers side. “Don’t you live in Loch Nora?”

Steve huffed, his irritation flaring at the reminder. He quickly tramped it down, refusing to be angry at Dustin for being curious.

“Used to. Moved out once I got Louie.” He explained, barely even a lie.

Mike and Lucas shared a glance in the back seat. Steve narrowed his eyes at them before quickly returning his gaze to the road. He’d have a talk to them later about trying to play detective.

Jonathan and Steve pulled in side by side in the driveway. The kids got out one by one, rushing to the porch and waiting impatiently for Steve to open it for them.

Steve smiled a small smile at the antics, before catching Jonathan staring at him out of the corner of his eye.

Steve turned to him with a confused raise of his eyebrows. Jonathan raised his own eyebrows and looked pointedly to the trailer before back at Steve.

So it wasn’t Lucas and Mike playing detective, it was Jonathan.

Steve rolled and eyes and made a very pointed and obvious “later” look before pushing through the kids and unlocking the door.

The kids discarded their shoes haphazardly and spread out in the living room, looking at everything.

“I’ll be right back. Break anything and I’ll break your asses.”

Max and Mike rolled their eyes, disappearing with Will down the hall to no doubt look around more. Dustin and Lucas stayed in the living room.

“Where are you going? And where’s Louie?” Lucas asked suspiciously.

Steve rolled his eyes fondly. “Wow ok. More interested in my kid than me, Sinclair?” Lucas spluttered a reply, but Steve waved him off with a chuckle. “I’m kidding, doofus. Louie’s up at Gran— er, Margaret’s, because I had work.”

Lucas deemed this an ok answer and let Steve go.

He knocked on Gran’a door three times before she opened, Louie on her hip and the twins right behind her. Noah and Casey immediately ran out the door to hug Steve on the small porch, each hanging off of a different leg as Steve reached out to take Louie from Gran.

“Heya, baby!” Steve greeted the now teething infant. Teething, as Louie immediately stuck Steve’s shirt collar in his mouth to chew on.

Steve smiled at Gran, letting her know the brats were over but that they could still have dinner together that night if she was ok with an extra five kids (and Jonathan).

Grab waved him off. “The more the merrier, dear.”

Noah and Casey followed Steve home, Gran having to go run some errands and taking advantage of Steve finally being home. Steve didn’t mind.

He’d just made it to the bottom of his porch when something caught his eye across the street; leaving his own trailer was Eddie Munson, his hair thrown half-up-half-down and his shirt and jeans ripped to basically scraps. He was grinning and talking while walking backwards, supposedly to the old man standing in the doorway.

Eddie turned around just in time to make eye contact with Steve, raise an eyebrow, and grin devilishly. He stuck out his tongue, and Steve and Louie both giggled.

Steve broke the tension-filled eye contact to look down at little baby Louie, who was still chewing on his shirt. Louie grinned back at him, his little teeth nubs shiny. When Steve looked back to Eddie, the van was gone and the pretty metalhead was nowhere in sight.

“Steve! Why are you withholding the child?” Max demanded.

Steve snapped back to reality just enough to glare over his shoulder at her.

.

IM SO SORRY FOR THE SLOW ASS UPDATES BUT I CANT PROMISE ILL DO BETTER WITH MY ADHD AND HYPER-FIXATIONS EVERYWHERE 😭😭

[morganbritton132]

would steve ever insist that eddie comes to basketball games with him just so they have an excuse to get those good seats right at the court that famous people and celebrities usually get?

Eddie is not Steve’s go-to person if he wants basketball tickets.

He goes to Lucas because every doctor knows a doctor that knows someone with season tickets they never use. And also, Steve kinda wants to go to the game with someone who, you know, will actually enjoy being there.

Eddie’s undying hatred of all things sports is, well…undying.

But Steve’s been a Pacers’ fan since the first time his dad shoved a basketball in his hands and taught him how to shoot. He has watched them lose in the playoffs every year that they make it to it, but he’s convinced. 2014 was going to be different.

He just can’t get tickets. He spent all day trying to buy them online and failed, and all the resale tickets are for seats that suck or way over his paygrade. Him and Eddie pay for their own hobbies out of their separate bank accounts, and Steve can’t afford the absolutely ridiculous price that’s being asked so…

“Please?” Steve asked, big puppy eyes and adorable little pout. He knew what he was doing and so did Eddie. “Pretty please? I never ask you for anything, Ed…Okay, fine, except for all the stuff I ask you for, but this is different. It’s a small price to pay to see my team win.”

“Your team that has literally never won in the history of all time?”

“How many championships does Leg-less the loser elf have?” Steve asked.

“…It’s Legolas,” Eddie said. “And he was a part of the fellowship that kinda saved the world.”

“So was I,” Steve pointed out. “And I deserve this.”

Steve didn’t ask for courtside seats. He didn’t ask to be sat among the rich and famous. Hell, he didn’t even ask Eddie to go with him. He just wanted to see if Eddie had a connection that could get him a ticket for a seat that wasn’t in the nosebleeds.

Steve doesn’t really believe that the tickets Eddie showed him are real until they are sitting in their seats – their seats that are courtside and five feet away from Paul George warming up. Steve is so excited to be there that he pretty much misses Eddie shaking someone’s hand right in front of him until he’s nudged in the shoulder, “Babe, you know, Sandy, right?”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says absently, sparing a glance in the direction Eddie was gesturing before looking back out at the court. It takes him a second for his brain to register who he was just looking at and then, “Holy shit, you’re Sandra Bullock.”

She is just as beautiful and as nice as Steve has always thought she was, and she’s amused by him which makes Steve blush. She holds out her hand to him, “And you are…”

“I’m…” Steve trails off, only picking back up his train of thought when Eddie laughs loudly beside him. “Steve. I’m Steve. Uh, Harrington. Eddie’s – I’m – we’re together, by law.”

“We’re married,” Eddie grinned, throwing his arm over Steve’s shoulder, and wiggling his wedding ring at her. “Still working on how to tell people, obviously.”

She congratulates them and talks to them a bit about the game (bring Steve out of his starstruck stupor), and even buys them champagne as a late little wedding gift. It’s a blast.

Eddie spends half the game flinching every time the ball bounces a little too close or a player nearly ends up in their lap, but Steve is loving all of it. The other half of the time, Eddie is having Steve explain what’s going on and who the players are, or he’s talking to the guy next to him.

It’s some square jawed model type that Steve doesn’t recognize and also, doesn’t like. He’s a little too friendly with his husband, especially when he curled a piece of Eddie’s hair around his finger. When the two of them end up on the kiss cam together, Eddie doesn’t even get a chance to register it before Steve pulls him nearly out of the camera frame and kisses him.

Later, fans will make jokes about the pictures of that night because it’s very clear that Steve and Eddie switched seats.

[enbyzutara]

Aang x Luke Skywalker Parallels: How Aang’s Hero’s Journey Wasn't Properly Finished

I read this post by @lovegrowsart and I couldn't get it out of my mind how Aang and Luke Skywalker's journeys have so much in common, yet only one of these arcs feels like it has come to a properly finished conclusion. Meanwhile, the other one feels like the character didn't learn what he was supposed to in order to fulfill his Hero's Journey arc. So, in this post, I want to expand more on why “Aang was supposed to be the Luke Skywalker of Avatar: The Last Airbender”, but the creators of A:TLA failed to properly finish his story.

Firstly, it’s important to point out that the Star Wars saga and universe are widely famous in pop and nerd culture, including Luke Skywalker, the Jedi protagonist, who himself is one of the most famous and beloved characters from the saga. So, it’s not really a reach to assume that the creators and writers of Avatar: The Last Airbender were - at some level - inspired by this famous universe and character. By doing a quick research, we can confirm this assumption, because Bryan Konietzko, one of the co-creators of A:TLA, said in a podcast that Dave Filoni helped to shape A:TLA and its story. Also, both creators said that Joseph Campbell’s writing about mythology helped them to create the Hero’s Journey and the other storylines for their show, and George Lucas was also heavily inspired by Campbell when he was writing Star Wars.

(I will refer to the Star Wars episodes of the original trilogy as one, two and three - even though, nowadays, they are the numbers four, five and six).

Bryke (Bryan Konietzko and Michael Dante DiMartino, the co-creators of Avatar: The Last Airbender) and George Lucas share a lot of tropes and narratives in the stories that each one of them created. Both protagonists of the sagas are the '"chosen one" of their universe: both are the last of their kind (even though in the Star Wars universe, initially there were two more older Jedi) who have the weight of the world’s future on their shoulders. Aang needs to fight against the Fire Lord and Luke, initially, against Darth Vader. By doing this, they would bring balance to the world/galaxy.

It’s also important to emphasize how Luke Skywalker and Aang are not only the saviors of the story, they are also the last of their kind. In A:TLA and in Star Wars, we have populations that suffered genocide: the Airbenders were brutally exterminated by the Fire Nation during Sozin’s Comet, and initially, it was revealed in the original Star Wars trilogy that the Jedi were wiped out of the galaxy when Order 66 happened. So, Luke and Aang not only have the destiny of the world/galaxy on their shoulders, they also are the only ones who can continue the legacy, the culture, and the survival of their own kind.

Another parallel between Luke Skywalker and Aang is that both have a Mentor From Beyond. Luke Skywalker was able to seek knowledge from the Jedis who had passed away in the original trilogy. Firstly, it was Obi-Wan Kenobi, who was his first mentor; Luke was able to communicate with him, and Obi-Wan would give him advice and directions to follow. Later, Yoda also appeared to him. For Aang, due to the fact that he’s the Avatar (and to be the Avatar means that you are the reincarnation of someone who already died), he was able to contact the Avatars from his past incarnations. In the show, Roku is the past Avatar with whom Aang most often connects, but he also seeks knowledge from Kyoshi, Kuruk, and Yangchen.

In Book One: Water and A New Hope, both characters are presented as more naive, and the narrative is not as tense as in the later seasons/episodes. However, the sequel presents a "darker" version of its universe as both characters grow and face emotional dilemmas and more hardships. The Empire Strikes Back and Book Two: Earth explore, even more, the ongoing war in their respective universes, and by the end of these sequels, things go wrong for the heroes. And what I really want to discuss is the similarity between the second episode of Star Wars and the second season of Avatar: The Last Airbender.

At some point in the second episode/season, Luke and Aang had to separate from their group of friends in order to learn more and to train. They had to seek knowledge of what they are and what they represent, because by doing this, they would be a step closer to fulfilling their duties and saving the galaxy/world. At this moment in the narrative, Luke and Aang have an older and wiser mentor who will try to help them achieve this: Yoda and Guru Pathik.

But neither Luke nor Aang finish these training sessions that they started, because during their training, they have a vision of people who are special to them currently in danger. So, even though Yoda and Guru Pathik advise them not to leave and to finish what they started, they leave. Luke goes to Cloud City to save his friends (Leia, Han Solo, Chewbacca, and C3PO) and Aang goes to Ba Sing Se to save Katara. And as stated before, in this episode/season finale, things go wrong for the heroes, including to the protagonists who are supposed to be the saviors of both universes. Luke and Aang left their training even though they were advised otherwise, they went to fight without properly learning what they needed to learn. So when they faced the enemy, they lost. Both at the end were defeated: Aang quite literally dies and Luke has a metaphorical death when he learns about his parentage and loses one of his arms. He also "commits suicide" when he decides to jump instead of aligning himself with the Dark Side.

Now, something really important here is to talk about how Luke and Aang's attachments to people who are dear to them made them run away from what they should have been doing, instead of bringing them closer to their duties and destiny. It was understandable the reasons why they left their training, but it still was wrong in the sense that things went wrong and it ended tragically for both characters. And, it’s never portrayed in both sagas that loving someone is wrong, but being attached to someone is. Both of their Hero’s Journeys required them to learn the difference between what is love and what is attachment, because both concepts are different and one of them (attachment) is portrayed in both sagas as wrong, especially for the protagonists.

Although I’m not Buddhist, nor was I raised as one, it’s clear that Star Wars (1) (2) and Avatar: The Last Airbender (1) (2) both were inspired, to some extent, by this religion and its philosophy. (I tried searching for articles and videos made by Buddhist people, but, unfortunately, I couldn't really find many, so if anyone wants to link more content, please, feel free). And one thing that appears to be inspired by this religion and philosophy in both sagas was the concept of attachment in contrast to love (1) (2). Before delving into the topic of attachment in the show and movie, it’s ideal to understand what attachment means from a Buddhist perspective:

In Buddhism, attachment is called upādāna, which means grasping or clinging. It refers to the human tendency to cling to people, things, or ideas in the mistaken belief that they will bring us lasting happiness and fulfillment. Attachment arises from our desire to feel secure, comfortable, and control of our lives. (...) Attachment to people: Attachment to people can become a source of suffering, as we can become overly dependent on them for our happiness, identity, and sense of security. This attachment can take many forms, from romantic relationships to friendships and family bonds.

While searching for what would be the difference between love vs attachment in Buddhism, this quote also brought my attention (I'll definitely come back to this later): 

Any kind of relationship which imagines that we can fulfill ourselves through another is bound to be very tricky. Ideally people would come together already feeling fulfilled within themselves and just therefore appreciating that in the other, rather than expecting the other to supply that sense of well-being.

George Lucas seemed to understand this concept better than Bryke. In Return of the Jedi, Luke Skywalker a) trusts his group of friends way more than he did in The Empire Strikes Back, b) he was also able to let go of his anger for Darth Vader because he genuinely loved Anakin, his father. George Lucas was very vocal about how he wanted to portray attachment as a bad thing, and when it comes to this topic, he never intended to make the Jedi philosophy something wrong. Strict? Maybe, but not wrong. And in the end, as the episode’s title suggests, Luke "returns", as he also returns to Dagobah to contact his master, Yoda, one last time. (The title of this episode can also refer to Anakin returning to the Light Side, but art can be interpreted in different and many ways).

In contrast, Avatar: The Last Airbender presented Aang’s attachment to Katara in a bad light. The Guru episode shows that Aang's attachment to Katara, not his feelings, is what is making him fail to open his chakra and not being able to enter into the Avatar State. 

Pathik: The Thought Chakra is located at the crown of the head. It deals with pure cosmic energy, and is blocked by earthly attachment. Meditate on what attaches you to this world. [Images of Katara appear before Aang.] Now, let all of those attachments go. Let them flow down the river, forgotten.

It’s even more important to understand that what Aang feels for Katara is not genuine love, at least in this episode, it’s pretty much stated that he is attached to her in a way that he needs to learn to let go. To expand a little bit on this, it’s necessary to analyze two Avatar: The Last Airbender episodes and how they portray what Aang feels for Katara:

Firstly, 'The Fortuneteller' episode portrays Aang’s feelings for Katara as just a childish crush. There's nothing wrong with a childish crush in general, especially because Aang is, in fact, a child, so he's bound to be childish. But in this episode, what he feels for Katara is paralleled with what Meng feels for him: something that was one-sided and lacked "emotional maturity and self-awareness". Both Aang and Meng viewed their crushes in an overestimated and hyper-idealized way, which again was portrayed as silly and in a bad light.

Secondly, in 'The Guru' episode, it shows that yes, Aang does love Katara, but is it in the right way? The Air Nomads' genocide deeply affects Aang, and he still loves the people that he lost, obviously. But in the show, Guru Pathik states that the love that Aang felt for the Air Nomads was 'reborn' in a new love - his love for Katara. So, Aang is projecting his feelings of love for the people who were brutally exterminated onto the girl who, at this moment in the narrative, was only his dear friend who shows him support and fights alongside him. Aang needed to get closure and heal from this traumatic event; it’s a huge trauma that he should work through. But instead, he was coping by projecting his feelings onto something, or better, someone.

I personally think that Aang loves Katara to some extent, but he needed to work through his trauma first. This goes along with something already shown before, quoting: "people would come together [in a relationship] already feeling fulfilled within themselves and just therefore appreciating that in the other".

The chakra/Guru plotline in Avatar: The Last Airbender is not about Aang needing to stop loving Katara; that's a huge misunderstanding. It was about how Aang was attached to something (or someone, in his case) that he needed to learn to let go of, so he could progress, grow, and heal. After he fulfilled this arc about what's love vs attachment, two things could happen: a) maybe Aang would realize that his love for Katara was more platonic and that he was projecting a lot onto her because he sees her in an idealized way, or b) that he indeed loves her but he needs to realize that he's too much attached to the comfort that she gives and brings to him, so his feelings for her need to have more emotional maturity.

And in the end of season two, Aang actually let go of his attachment to Katara, and he was able to achieve the Avatar State. But unfortunately, after this, he was brutally attacked by Azula and had his chakra blocked.

But in Book Three: Fire, not only does he not return to see or contact Guru again, as Luke did (returned to see his older and wiser mentor, Yoda, in the third and final episode), but Aang also appears to still be attached to Katara in the same way that he already was, if not worse. In the Ember Island Players episode, he: 1) gets so mad and frustrated with the Players portraying his relationship with Katara in a non-romantic light that he says that he could go into the Avatar State over this, and 2) rushes things with Katara and kisses her without her consent, disrespecting her boundaries, after she just avoided his romantic questions and advances.

Point 1:

Aang: [Angered.] No, I'm not! I hate this play! [Yanks his hat off and throws it on the ground.]  Katara: I know it's upsetting, but it sounds like you're overreacting.  Aang: Overreacting? If I hadn't blocked my chakra, I'd probably be in the Avatar State right now!

Point 2: 

Aang: But it's true, isn't it? We kissed at the Invasion, and I thought we were gonna be together. But we're not. 

Katara: Aang, I don't know. 

Aang: Why don't you know?  Katara: Because, we're in the middle of a war, and, we have other things to worry about. This isn't the right time.

Aang: Well, when is the right time? 

Katara: Aang, I'm sorry, but right now I'm just a little confused.  [Aang tries to kiss Katara.]

Katara: I just said I was confused! I'm going inside. [Exits the balcony.]

All of this shows how he still lacked emotional maturity, and how he still was attached to Katara, in a way not much different from what was shown in Book Two: Earth. Overall, this shows how his feelings for her weren't properly developed and didn't grow from where they previously were – because it was still bound by an attachment that he needed to let go of in order to grow, heal, and learn.

Unfortunately, the Guru/Chakra plotline was completely brushed aside in Book Three: Fire; Aang doesn't even seek to see Guru again or continue his unfinished training. And in the end, when he was fighting the Fire Lord, what he was always meant to do, he managed to go into the Avatar State. Not because he trained or learned how to achieve this goal; actually, it was because a rock saved him by triggering the Avatar State. So, in the end, an entire plotline was ignored and forgotten. Aang didn't learn what he needed to learn with Guru, nor did he finish the training that he was meant to do, and he still was rewarded by the narrative with achieving the Avatar State and saving the world (and also, "getting the girl").

[(...) and Aang protects himself with an airbending shield but is pushed back by the force of the attack, crashing into a rock pillar. The scar on his back is hit with a point of the rock, causing him to flashback to when he was shot by lightning. (...) Aang jumps out, now in the Avatar State, and grabs Ozai by his goatee.]

And that's why Aang is the Luke Skywalker that we could’ve had. Luke finished his Hero's Journey; he learned what he needed to learn and because of it, he saved the galaxy and his father. Meanwhile, Aang didn't learn about love vs attachment, yet he still achieved what he needed to achieve from the beginning: the Avatar State and winning against the Fire Lord. And he only achieved that because the narrative chose to give him a final new solution to resolve all his problems instead of him directly dealing with and facing the problems, difficulties, and dilemmas that the narrative initially proposed to him.

(I don’t actually mean quite literally that Aang needs or should have been the Luke Skywalker from Avatar: The Last Airbender, because Aang is his own character who has his own story. What I mean is that: Luke Skywalker is a character who is similar in some ways to Aang, and he had his Hero’s Journey properly fulfilled. I believe that Aang also deserved the same treatment by the creators of ATLA).

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine you are Hayden Christensen's closest friend from college and you help him going through his divorce. Will friendship be enough for either of you? Based on the request made by @calzone-d ...

Warnings: *long post*, drama, explicit smut, fluffy endings.

Recommendations: "Summertime Sadness", "Ride", by Lana Del Rey; “Scared to be Lonely” by Dua Lipa; “Here with me”, by the Killers; “Always” by Gavin James.

***

How it started...

You were 19 years old when you finally got the chance to study cinema at Y/C's university. An old dream you had, to be able to transmit onscreen all your ideas. Your family encouraged you to pursuit the academy of arts in order to become an actress, but you thought yourself too introspective to act.

Well, here you were when you met him. The one who was destined to remain a principal figure in your life over the years. Taking acting classes--well, you did need to study it anyway--you bumped into Hayden Christensen.

"Excuse me", he said to you, a little out of breath.."Is this the acting class with Miss H/N? I fear I am slightly late..."

You remembered finding his blue eyes the handsomest pair of eyes you ever came across with: they were intense, secretive, but friendly too, somewhat emotional. You were instantly captivated.

"Yes, it is. And you are not in the slightest late, young man, but /very/ late indeed. Come in, take your seat, I'll have you updated..."

He gives you a long gaze, relieved for being saved from a bigger trouble—and you can tell he is a freshman like you.

“My name is Y/N”, you side smirk at him.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I am Hayden.”

You both shake hands. Something ignites within, but you think it’s because he has such a good aura…

*

“You are such a great actress!”, he is telling you, so many months later. “Quit with the production, you are better than me in decorating the lines.”

You grimace, which makes him laugh. The sound of his laughter is so comforting, like this call to your home.

“I don’t like this acting thing”, you dismiss his compliments nonchalantly. Today, you are in a cafeteria, celebrating the end of another semester. One more to go and you will be ready to keep up with your lives, though you and Hayden had vowed to each other never to be apart. “I feel more comfortable behind the cameras. By the way, I just had this idea!”

And then you lean to him, ready to shake him by his shoulders. He nearly chokes with his coke—but then laughing as always because your impulsiveness often brings him to laughters.

“For the love of God, woman. Do you want to see me dead before the time?”

You side smirk, silently apologizing with your puppy eyes. Hayden smiles back, before encouraging with what you had to say with only a nod. As you do, he seems to suddenly notice how nice your hair looks this day.

“I just had the greatest idea ever! I could film your audition and send to George Lucas. The Star Wars director is looking for someone of our age to portray young Anakin Skywalker. You know, before he becomes Darth Vader, of course.”

Hayden is taken aback by what you tell him. You can see the mix of sentiments that rises behind his blue eyes: insecurity, suspicious before reasoning to excitement.

“What? Are you for real, Y/N? How come did you hear about it? I mean…”

You tell him how your internship led you to it. This is how the fun begins, how both of you in fact begin your career.

*

You are there in every moment of his life: when Hayden has to conciliate his last semester with the filming of “Episode II: Attack of the Clones”, when he tells you that he and his on-screen romantic pair are having a thing.

He is also present at your graduation, the moment when you begin to transit to adulthood. What about it when you get yourself drunk for the very first time?

He is there too.

“I hate the taste of alcohol”, you grumble, unsure how come you are at his couch. “It aches my stomach, makes me sick.”

Hayden chuckles at how all of a suddenly you turn into these kind of discoveries after spending five years in college doing nothing but well behaving. However, due to such a strong bond you two share, he takes care of you.

“This is the moment where I tell you something you told me once: better to put out than to swallow all in.”

You raise your face, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Did you just hear yourself?!”

“Wasn’t that what you told me?”

“No!”, you laugh hard at his remark. “Oh my God, H!”

He chuckles after you.

“Well, it did make you laugh, didn’t it?”

***

• The subtle changes…

You are single again. Your ex dumped you. Coincidently, Hayden is single as well. He’s also been going through a difficult phase in his life after all the critics coming from the fans of “Star Wars”. “Episode III” of the franchise didn’t go that well and even though it’s been a year since it’s release, he’s still affected by it.

“We’ve been through so much together”, Hayden tells you one day. “We should definitely do something new for a change.”

“I agree”, you sigh. Currently unemployed, you haven’t been yourself lately either. “Any thoughts?”

“A good journey would do us well. Let us go to Scotland”, so he says, excited. “Come on, Y/N. I’ll let you drive!”

You chuckle at his old tendency to be so reckless. And you do so because you can’t refuse him anything. A bad omen you clearly ignore, of course.

“Very well. When should we do this trip?”

But why’d you bother to ask when you know the answer? Hayden smiles warmly at him.

Oh that damn smile…

“Tomorrow. I’ve already bought the tickets and booked the hotel.”

You scoff at him, offended.

“What? Why? Are you taking me for granted, Christensen? For the love of God…”

Just like that he lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder, smiling as you scream out of surprise. As he puts you down, Hayden messes with your hair, delighted when seeing he’s the reason of your amusement.

And he realizes this is a nice view to contemplate: the sight of your smile, the sound of your laughters, the joy that sparks in your eyes… Seeing you like this makes him genuinely smile in his turn and forget about his bad phase.

But he doesn’t realize that this may mean something else. Or perhaps he doesn’t want to. It’s been years now since you and him became the closest of the friends, so what if all of this is just the result of genuine admiration from one friend to the other?

Regardless, he’s going to take you with him to Scotland. And so you go with him… It is wild to consider how you are usually all straight, not doing nothing that goes out the line all the whilst Hayden is more prompted to take chances and live the present quite intently.

On that fact you blame him being very aries all the whilst you, as taurus lady, prefer to know where you are going. However, he makes life so interesting that even you, as already observed, cannot deny him anything.

So here you are now at Edinburgh.

“I love everything that is medieval”, you tell him excitedly with a spark in your eyes that makes Hayden smile. He does like when you speak passionately about the things you are interested. “I cannot believe I took so long to come here!”

“Yeah, me neither!”

It is a good time to be alive, both of you agree. The landscape is seductive, peaceful, traits much sought after such a bad period you both went through. People too are kind, albeit reserved, but very pleasant.

Those days are being built in your memory as something great to be remembered, but perhaps there is just more that neither seem too attentive…

“Lady, one bedroom with two beds”, asks Hayden, when you got to London eventually because he, of course, is a man who plans very little—much to your distress, the woman who likes everything settled.

But this is not any hotel, but a fanciful one. The said lady looks at him pitifully.

“Mr Christensen, my apologies, but there is only a suite with one bed.”

You two blush, but Hayden somehow doesn’t mind it. This is when you realize you not only don’t mind it but you also want it…badly. Perhaps that’s why you sabotage it.

“You know what? Let’s make it for another day. Come now, Hayden. Thank you”, you blurt out, pushing him outside.

“What the hell was that?”, he frowns at you. “Y/N, what’s wrong with sharing a bed? Do you honestly think anything would happen or what?”

He doesn’t realize his words hurt you, but in truth there is more than his subtle frustration at your refusal allows him to admit. There is an unspoken rising desire between you.

And of course you have to ruin everything.

“I just… please don’t be upset! It’s because I cannot afford it and…” and you tell him the other reason for it, which appeases his anger and is more palpable than you’d care to admit: you are expecting an interview.

Hayden softens, naturally, but you know he’s changed. You hate it because you know why. There are so many things that suddenly rise in your throat but they die choked.

Somehow Hayden knows it too. But he chickens away. He hugs you instead, not willing to lose his best friend.

“I’m sorry for being such an impulsive jackass. But we did have a great time, didn’t we?”

Oh but if only you knew what waits for you back to US…

***

• The marriage

Here you are, dressed in yellow, standing as a maid in honor for the bride and groom. Your heart breaks because you realize a little too late that you are in love with your best friend.

Worse is: had you accepted to share one bed with Hayden in London, everything would be different. Yeah, you may not have gotten that job as a producer of that movie, but Hayden wouldn’t meet Rachel Bilson.

Nonetheless, here you are. Celebrating their vows, wondering if you could be there for a moment, what would be like if you were her.

“Hey, Y/Nickname!”, Hayden exclaims after the ceremony is over. He is wearing his gorgeous smile and dressed in fanciful robes, which all highlights his handsomeness. But you have learned to bury everything deep inside your heart. A secret that you’d take to your grave.

“I can’t believe you are married, Hay!”, you giggle when you greet him with a tight embrace. “I’m so happy for you! Oh my God, look how grown up you are!”

He laughs quietly.

“I know right? Who’d ever thought? The idea of marriage was hardly ever entertained for me”, so he says.

“Oh right! As I told Rachel once, I do have recollections of your drunkenness state and all that came between”, you laugh too, remembering the first time he had a hangover.

“What a time to be alive”, says Hayden in his typical good mood.

As you speak, you do seem to come to terms that if he is happy, so are you. You are at peace with it at long last. Hayden, on his turn, for a time seems to have suspected that you harbored feelings for him. But he always ignored it for the sake of your friendship. Now seeing how genuinely happy you are for him, certainly he believes it was all a thing of his head.

But why does he have a bittersweet taste of it?

“Could you introduce me to that man over there?” You nudge his sides, pointing to a handsome man that is not very far from Rachel herself.

Hayden raises an eyebrow.

“Really, now, Y/N?”

“You don’t expect me to be a nun, do you?”

He chuckles.

“Well I don’t want to see you get hurt, is all…”

Quite unwillingly, though, he leads the way. And maybe the night will not end that bad for you, after all.

***

•The divorce and the consequences…

In fact, looking back now it was really a great job pushing Hayden to introduce the guy to you because he ended up becoming your boyfriend.

This new relationship of yours, however, changed the dynamics of your friendship with Hayden for some time—but maybe it was all because he was living a different life now, becoming a father in the process.

A few years rolled upon, though, when everything started to fall apart—for you and Hayden. You found out that your new relationship was damaged because you and your boyfriend were scared to be lonely. A crisis developed to fights, to exchange of words that only broke hearts.

In the meantime, Hayden realized how long he missed his best friend. His own marriage started to fall apart, but the more it broke down, the more he needed you again.

Was it a selfish wish to have you by his side? Such questionings never reached you out due to his pride, that masked his hurt. Perhaps he was only scared to be lonely too. He could deal with it himself.

Nonetheless, destiny—the same destiny that pushed one from the other—is about to bring you two together again. One call and your night would be different.

You are single now, ready to go out that night with your girlfriends when suddenly a phone call startles you. It’s Hayden. Your heart races: he hasn’t been the one to call, and hasn’t done so for a long while.

“Hey, H. How are you? Haven’t heard of you for some time. Is everything ok?”, you ask, concerned.

There is a pause that accelerates your heart. You know he is not well. Before he answers, you immediately add:

“I’ll be in your home in a few minutes.”

“I’ll give you the new address. I’m not living with Rachel anymore: we got divorced.”

You are stunned upon those words. Now your silence leaves Hayden uncomfortable. He breaks it by saying:

“Y/Nickname? Are you there?”

“Yes, honey, I am. I’m so sorry, Hay. Please stay there… I’ll be on my way.”

He chuckles.

“Where else would I go to?”

In a matter of minutes, after requesting an Uber, you, dressed the way you are, arrive to his new home. Hayden side smirks when seeing you, though how he eyes you up and down makes you blush lightly.

“Wow, Y/N. Looking hot, aren’t you?”, he laughs when seeing the pink painting your cheeks, hugging you tight when receiving you. “Please tell me I didn’t ruin your night.”

You slap his shoulder playfully, eyes rolling at his drama.

“Don’t say bullshit to me, Christensen. I just wish I knew it properly before. I hope you don’t mind me looking like this.”

“You have always been a distraction to my eyes”, he teases you, pleased to see nothing has really changed between the two of you. “We need some wine, it’s not really a warming night, I suppose.”

As you look into his new apartment, he promptly gets the best wine to serve you. Without your knowledge, Hayden’s eyes follow your moves: noticing your y/c hair is now on your shoulders, how vivid your eyes are, remaining as observing and curious as before.

He cannot help admiring you physically too: though this is a cold night and you are dressed accordingly, when you drop your black coat on his coach, he sees your warming blouse shows some skin.

Indeed, Y/N, looking as hot and beautiful as always. Such is his thought.

He never really told you but Rachel was jealous of you. According to her, she could see you harbored feelings for him and part of her feared Hayden would correspond. Nonsense, he’d tell her.

But now, was she really so wrong? Yet, another and more important question he asks himself is: how could have he let go of you? Not only about matters of sentimentalism, but you’ve been an important piece of his life.

Seeing you back hurts his heart because he now sees the stupidity in letting go of you. He wishes he could have asked you to wait for him, to never let go of you. But this is such a state of complex selfishness that he quiets his internal riot and puts a smile on his lips when bringing the two of you the best wine he has, aware you prefer the sweet ones.

“I was admiring your new apartment”, you tell him, smiling in thanks as he passes you a full glass. “Whoa, looks like we are having a full drinking night, aren’t we? Christensen, I am not that young anymore. Not sure I am prepared to have a full hangover again.”

Hayden cracks loud and the sound of his laughters makes your heart skip a beat. Nothing feels different, you think, pleased.

“I’m bringing us something to eat, silly head. Besides I’ve always taken care of you, right?”

“That is true”, you agree. “But what are we having to eat today?”

“Always hungry, eh?”, he teases you.

You shrug playfully before saying:

“What can I do? I am a Taurus, you know it!”

He rolls his eyes, laughing loud again at your remarks—and that sound has always made your heart race, hasn’t it?

“Not with that astrology nonsense again!”

You slap his arm playfully before joining him in chuckles.

“Always with that astrology nonsense, silly.”

It is not until pizza is brought to you that the serious conversation is finally there.

“So what happened, Hayden?”, you ask him softly.

He sighs heavily, avoiding your gaze. He is silent, but you are patient, giving some time, for which he appreciates it.

“How often do we fall for the idea our minds make of the person?”, says he, sounding frustrated. “Not rarely we come to romantic ideas of marriage that break before the crude reality, you know? It’s not just about being different, Y/N, it’s… the commitment, I suppose, in making everything right. Turns out we had very different ideas of making it right.”

“I’m sorry, Hay. I really am”, you speak gently, taking his hand to yours, realizing how broken he is makes your heart sensitive to his pain.

He appreciates it, but when feeling your skin against him, Hayden is remembered the days before he met Rachel. The way he made you smile, the jokes that brought him to laughters. How easily it was to be around you, how you softened him. He, who was never a sentimental man, hugged you more times than he realized.

But Hayden sweeps away such memories.

“I am too. But I am fine now”, he shrugs. “I mean, not entirely recovered, but better than being broken.”

“Take your time, it’s the best you can do. How long has it been going on?”

Hayden hesitates but says:

“Six months.”

Your eyes go wide and your voice comes louder than expected:

“YOU HAVE GONE THROUGH A DIVORCE SIX MONTHS AGO?”

At least he has the decency to blush.

“Hayden! How could you keep me in secret for such a long time?!”

You’d remove his hand but Hayden doesn’t let you to. Pulling you to his side, he says, almost in a tone of desperation:

“I thought I could handle this by myself”, he explains. “I really didn’t want to bother you…”

Perhaps it’s the wine, but your tongue runs loose with words that have long been choked in your throat.

“And what am I to you? A second option, a plan B that didn’t work out? You’ve kicked me out of your life, Hayden. You’ve never called me to ask me if I was doing ok!”

He gives you a painful look that makes you regret instantly of what you said. You’d think he let go of you and a fight would come—this happened once when both of you were drunk, though by then you were both silly and immature.

“I’ve got a war in my mind for a long while”, he exclaims, holding your wrist and he pulls you even closer to him. “I was fucking stupid, I screwed it, I know. But never would I kick you out of my heart, Y/N! And I… I’m sorry I was fucking blinded by my pain. But only because I feared to hurt you.”

You await for his burst to end, very familiar with his intensity—but when his blue eyes search for yours, your soul is denuded.

Oh fuck.

“I stepped away because he was a douchebag”, he proceeds. “You deserved better than such a man, Y/N. I’ve heard of his doings but I couldn’t reach you out when… when I was in the mid of a crisis myself.”

“You’ve always been too shut in yourself to let others in”, you sigh. “But what relation is there with the fact I was in a relationship?”

“You deserved better”, he says with greeted teeth, holding your face with his hands, both of you barely noticing how your bodies have been dancing dangerously close to each other. “You are still slow after all this time?”

You are shocked, perplexed by his words. You freeze. Hayden smiles slowly at your reaction.

“I feel it everywhere, nothing scares me anymore. I won’t let you go. Now now, not ever. Fuck, I married the wrong person. Heaven has always been my favourite place on Earth when I was with you.”

“You have always been the best”, you mumble incoherently.

Just like that your lips clash against his. In between fervent kisses, where he pulls you to his lap, no reason is admitted. Not anymore.

“I’ve missed you, Y/Nickname”, he groans against your lips. “Like the sun misses the moon.”

“Always the romantic”, you chew his bottom lip as your hands run over his hair, pulling it gently. “Don’t want your memories anymore. Fuck, Christensen, you took so long.”

“This is not a game, I swear”, he breaks the kiss to pursuit your skin, his tongue already on your neck as his hands hold your hips, making you feel his rigid pants.

“Oh Lord. My worst sin is to never be able to refuse you anything”, you hate how wine makes you speak your mind.

Raising his head to watch you intently, he messes with your hair before holding your chin, drawing you closer to him.

Oh that intensity that involves one to the other!

“Then make me a sinner too for giving you all that you deserve.”

You crawl over him, you know you do, when your tongue pursuits his, one pairs the other rhythmically, perfectly. And then he lies you there on the couch, hands already working to remove your pants.

His eyes are set on yours like that of a hunter about to capture his prey. He knows you are on fire and that he is the gasoline. You lean partly to remove his shirt, hands all over him. You gasp when feeling his muscles under your touch and you want more, but…

“Patience, Y/Nickname”, his voice is husky and domineering when laying you down again.

“Yes, Master”, you giggle softly, in such a state that makes you both smile to the other.

And just like that his hands find way to your thighs, gently parting before inserting one right there in your feminine parts, not really taking away your panties for such.

“Oh, God!” You moan sensually, enjoying his eyes on you as he works wonderfully on you. “This is better than I thought!”

“Is it?”, he groans softly in your ear. “How long have you been thinking about it, dear one?”

“For a long while! God knows how much…”, another moan breaks you, earning him a smirk. “Hayden…”

“Yeah?”

“I fucked him thinking about you”, you admit.

His eyes dart, his body shakes lightly with desire. Slowly moving on top of you, his moves increase intently, watching you with desire.

“Damned be you for never speaking your thoughts to me”, he lifts your blouse gently but you help him removing it. As he starts to kiss your neck down to your chest, your legs begin to get heavy at his tenderness. “You should have spoken it to me…”

“Never had I the courage to do so”, you moan, enjoying having his hand over your neck lightly as he bites down your bra, slowly removing it with his mouth.

“For you should. It would have spared us some time. I fucked her thinking of you too”, he admits it drunkly before burying his lips to your nipple, much to your delight.

Hayden ruins you and it’s better than you could have thought. You want him to yourself, to make him unspeakable things but it’s difficult to do or say anything when his lips are so occupied with each nipple, twirling his tongue around it, sucking and biting it.

The sounds in his living room go louder each time. You are brought to heaven, and only then you take control of yourself again.

“Hayden…”, you barely speak when he finishes with you.

You both are a puddle of mess when you, nude, sit over his lap. You share a drunk look, one filled with the darkest desires for so long muffled, now brought to light.

“Yes, babe?” He kisses your shoulders, groaning as you rub yourself against his hardness. “Will you forgive me for such a behavior?”

His words are barely heard when his head is thrown back because your skillful hands find way to his pants and remove it so soon.

You glance at his manhood, impressed by how it is when it’s this hard under your touch.

“You don’t deserve forgiveness”, you giggle softly as you start rubbing it, enjoying to feel the drip of it. “You should be punished.”

He holds back a gasp at your words. Now eyeing you, interested in your upcoming moves. And when you slide to your knees…

“Babe…”

“Yeah?”

One glance. Unspoken words fill the air. And you take with his mouth at long last, not stopping until you have it all down your throat.

“For God’s sake!”, he gasps. “I can’t wait any longer to have you with me!”

All gentleness is left aside when he helps you settle on his lips and he slides inside you. To feel him throbbing like this, going so hard in you makes you arch your back.

“This feels so good!”

His hands move down your back as his lips pursuit your skin, licking and taking every bit of you—though he does know how much you enjoy when he takes his time around your nipples, which he does graciously.

But it’s not until his eyes meet yours, sealing your lips as much as you seal your bodies together, that all is at long last truly consumed….

***

• Nowadays

In a sober state, everything is better appreciated. Hayden watches as you gleefully prepare breakfast. There is nothing but genuinely love in his eyes.

What had started as an explosion of sentiments for so long kept in secret has now flown to what should have always been: a genuine relationship. From friends to lovers. From lovers to something better.

He smiles, not now missing the lateness of his realization that you have always been the love of his life. He stands and moves to behind you, holding you close and smelling your scent as you prepare him some eggs.

“What? I’ve been sensing your eyes over me”, you giggle like a little girl. “Don’t get me weak again, Christensen. This is so not you.”

He turns you at him and holds your face between his hands.

“I love you, Y/Nickname.”

Hayden smiles wide when seeing a blush painting your cheeks. And he beams when you tell him the same.

“I love you too, H. Though I fear I love you more.”

“That is not true”, he protests in between laughters.

But before you fall into that old cliche you and him enjoy in secret intimacy, breakfast is ready. As you two enjoy that morning moment, it doesn’t strike as how many years have passed before you two achieved it at long last.

“I have news to tell”, says Hayden with a bright smile on his lips.

You rest your chin over your hands and say:

“Well? Tell me at once.”

He appreciates all the love that comes from you. The way you look at him, how genuinely you listen and help him in every moment, how kind you always are, how sincere you speak your heart out. So many virtues and even your flaws he appreciates.

There is so much love between the lines and out of them too.

“I was asked to play Anakin Skywalker again.”

And how fantastic you are as his soon to be wife when you jump in his arms excited with his news.

“That is awesome, my darling! I’m so happy for you!”

“A better start than I could have thought”, he admits, pulling you to sit on his lap.

“You deserve it all”, you brush your lips against his. “I love you, my heart.”

“I love you, my soul”, he whispers back.

And this is the ending you deserve.

***

•Epilogue…

When you show up dressed in red—from your full lips to your body—Hayden feels something rise in his chest.

“My God, you look gorgeous, Y/N…”, so he says mischievously when you show up after leaving him waiting for 30 minutes. “It was worth the time…”

You giggle, blushing lightly after all this time. Your hair is loose wavily, put on side as you wear the necklace and earrings Hayden gifted you in your birthday.

“Don’t be silly. Have they arrived yet?”

The occasion is to celebrate Hayden and Ewan’s series “Kenobi”. Hayden’s aforementioned friend said he was going to pick them up in a limo so they’d go all together.

“They are about to… which leaves us a few minutes”, he places right behind you, holding your waist tightly.

“Hayden… It took me some time to get properly dressed. Besides, I…” you get lost at your words when he starts kissing your neck and his hands move up and down your back.

“What are you trying to say?”

Hayden smirks, enjoying the effect he has over you. It’s been some good years since you got together, but even now he manages to get you speechless.

“I…”

Your mind goes blank when he turns you to the mirror and see the naughty look that rests in those blue eyes. His hands move to your breasts, playing with your nipples before slowly exposing them.

“Hayden… they are….” You moan softly, struggling to keep your composure.

He turns you now against the wall of your bathroom, mouth dropping to your full chest all the whilst his hands move to your thighs.

“Hmm”, he sings softly, humming against your skin. “Hot as hell, wife.”

You try not to fall from your heels.

“Hayden!” You cry out when his fingers find all the way to you.

“You get your man on knees every single time. Getting me overzealous, uh?”, he smirks when going to his knees. “All wet for me, honey? Let me taste you thus…”

You are almost ruined as he does so, his tongue in you the way you want him to. You forget yourself, forget the reason why this expensive gown you bought three months ago was quite difficult to dress—precisely why you’d want to tell him by the end of the night.

You forget your state, you forget you should be checking time before your friends arrive. There is nothing to remember as he fucks you with his tongue deliciously until you are about to come undone…

Just like that he lifts your thighs and before you complain, he slides his manhood within, fucking you slowly and pleasantly.

“Oh God!” You scream but he has to quiet your sounds, especially because… the bell is rang.

“That was quick”, he manages to say breathlessly as he rushes to keep himself recomposed.

You giggle, suddenly shy as you do the same.

“Indeed…”

Hayden finds you adorable and peppers kisses around your face.

“They can wait a little. I thought you wanted to say something… you know, before…”

You two share a giggle and he smiles when you bury your face in his shoulder.

“I… I am pregnant, H.”

He hugs you closer. What a night, what a life with you is. Hayden Christensen could not have been any happier…

[after-the-end-times]

THE HOPE OF IT ALL

G 💙 750 words 💙 '92 US Election 💙 on AO3

💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙

As the 1992 election results started to roll in, The Party were glued to the tv in Steve and Eddie's apartment.

It had been a long time since they'd had a Democrat come this close to winning the Presidency. They all lived for too long under Reagan and then George H W Bush and now they were all watching to see if Bill Clinton could keep Bush from getting a second term.

"Do we really think he's gonna-"

"Shhhh!," Dustin cuts Robin off, "What did I say about jinxing this! No. Predicting!"

Robin mimed zipping her lips closed while she pulled her foot onto the couch. She gave a quick kick that sent him flailing onto the floor.

"Hey! I'm trying to win you an election here and that's how you act! Hmph! And not even a thank you for my effort!"

Robin pointed at her zipped together lips and shrugged faux sadly.

"Ok!," Steve stood up, stopping the inevitable slap fight, "I'm making more popcorn. Who needs another pop?"

Everyone raised their hands as Steve stepped gingerly through and around everyone sprawled on the living room floor. Eddie met his eyes and got up to follow him into the kitchen.

While they hoped it'd be a shut out (Clinton's popularity amongst both Dems and some Republicans was pretty high) they wouldn't know for sure until all the polls closed and the numbers came in.

And until then, they tried not to let the worry gnaw through their stomachs.

They were silent as Steve unwrapped bags of popcorn to put in the microwave and Eddie grabbed cans from the fridge.

Eddie lined the pops up on the bar top between the kitchen and living room and spoke through the opening, "Hey Will, can you hand these out?"

He waited to see Will and El standing to grab them before he turned back to Steve. He stepped up to Steve's back and wrapped his arms around him.

"Don't tell Dustin I said so," he said lowly against Steve's shoulder, "but Clinton's gonna win."

He drags his mouth along Steve's shoulder and mutters into hair, "He's gotta win. We can't do four more years of Bush. Four more years of him not caring about people, our friends, dying."

Steve emptied the last popcorn bag into a bowl and turned in Eddie's arms and hugged him close.

"We're not jinxing," he whispered back, "we're hoping. How can we get change without hope?"

They held each other a few more minutes until Robin came in. She passed the bowls of popcorn across the counter to Lucas and turned back to Steve and Eddie.

She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at the ceiling above their heads, "We're gonna get this. It's gonna happen. And things are gonna get better. They have to. I just can't get this churning dread out of my stomach. Cause what if-"

Before she could put that thought out there, they pulled her into their hug and held her tight. She knew that no matter what happened, they'd have each other, but it was still terrifying. That what-if.

With one last deep breath and hard look between the three, they smoothed their expressions to hide their anxiety and rejoined the kids.

Except. It was finally 8:30 and hope was on the rise. As were the shouts and, yes, predictions getting yelled around the living room.

Because the midwest was going blue. State by state: Michigan, Ohio, and then their new home, Illinois. Blue!

Even southern states were going blue, which none of them could believe. First Georgia and then Tennessee!

Some states were still going to Bush, of course. Big ones like Florida and Texas.

Steve handed $5 over to Eddie when their home state of Indiana stayed red.

But then at 9.30, the tentative hope everyone held tightly to their chests exploded into cheers and whoops when California and Pennsylvania went to Clinton.

"WE WON!", the kids screamed while they jumped up and down.

Steve and Eddie kissed hard and pulled each other into a tight hug.

Robin jumped on top of them from the couch, "I told you! I told you we'd win! Ha!"

The phone on the wall immediately started ringing. Steve pulled away and pushed his way through the wall of bodies to reach it.

Through the space between the kids' heads, Eddie saw Steve answer the phone grinning so hard his eyes did that scrunchy thing he loved so much.

In the instant, he was filled with so much love.

For Steve.

For his friends, here and gone.

For Wayne, who he needed to call if that wasn't him on the phone already.

And even, honestly, surprisingly for all his fellow citizens who came together to bring them this hope and possibility of a better future.

~fin~

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Something There (Chapter 4)

7.6k words

Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: Language, more enemies-to-lovers, some sexual references, Roy Kent starting to realize he's a pining fool

Series Masterlist

As I sat at my desk, I stole a glance into the Greyhounds’ office. There was Roy, sitting at his own desk, arms crossed, staring up at the tits drawn by an eight-year-old child, although I could tell by his stony expression that he wasn’t really looking at the drawing. He was thinking.

It had been almost a week after the team retreat, and he still hadn’t really looked at me or talked to me, not since we sat on the floor of that little shed and talked about “fairy tale shit”. Part of me had thought that something was about to happen as we sat there, something I hadn’t realized I could even be interested in, but Roy had ruined whatever that was. After we left the shed, he avoided me in a way that made the prior weeks seem downright warm and friendly.

During the rest of the retreat, he’d pointedly leave the table when I sat down for meals, completely shut down in our small group unless directly spoken to by anyone that wasn’t me, and on the bus ride home, without Rebecca instructing us to sit with anyone in particular, he’d made a beeline for the Greyhounds’ bus and sat with Jamie Tartt, who I heard looked both surprised and pleased to have his coach next to him for two hours.

Being back at the Dog Track was just as bad. If I walked into a room, he found a reason to leave. When we passed each other in the hall or when rotating use of the pitch, his phone was suddenly incredibly interesting, even if all he was staring at was a black screen. And he was no longer running next to me in silence after work while Lust Conquers All played overhead; instead, I caught him pulling up to Nelson Road an extra hour before his usual arrival time to use the empty weight room.

But I didn’t care. Not at all. Nope, not me. Roy Kent could do whatever the fuck he wanted. It didn’t matter to me one bit.

I turned my gaze away from the Greyhounds’ office and refocused on the email I was writing, letting Keeley know that a local paper, The Richmond Star,wanted to do profiles on some of the Whippets and asking her what I could do to help.

“The Richmond Star?” Lucas hummed, hovering over my shoulder. “That wouldn’t happen to be the newspaper of one George Willows, would it?”

My cheeks suddenly felt warm. “It might be,” I answered coyly as I hit SEND on my email. I turned my chair around to face my assistant coach.

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Interesting.”

“Why’s that so interesting?” I snorted, knowing exactly what he was about to say.

Indeed, his smile turned wicked. “Oh, just that I keep seeing that particular name light up your phone every five seconds. And your interview with him was supposed to only be about a half hour, but the two of you sat in here for like two hours.” He leaned forward. “And I heard a certain coach hates him.” His wide eyes told me that he was relishing sharing that bit of gossip.

“Beard? Nate?” I asked, playing dumb, as if I hadn’t watched Roy Kent confront George in the hall the day of that two-hour interview. “They’re too nice to hate anyone.”

Lucas shrugged, glancing through the window I’d been staring at earlier; Roy was typing now, hopefully completely out of earshot of this very childish conversation. “All I know is that if you go out with George Willows, you might be ruining your chances with Kent.”

My face was now on fire with annoyance. “Oh no, whatever will I do? The guy who hates me won’t want to go out with me if I go out with a nice guy?” I hissed as I turned back to my computer, opening a spam email so I could look anywhere but at Lucas or Roy Kent. “Besides, it’s not like George Willows has even asked me out. And as for Roy fucking Kent-”

I stopped talking when I saw him get out of his chair. As he exited his office through the locker room, his eyes shifted towards our office, landing on me. For a fraction of a second, I saw that look I’d seen in the shed in the woods, the one when I swore his gaze flickered to my lips. The soft expression was quickly replaced with an icy glare and matching scowl before he disappeared into the locker room, his gruff voice commanding his players to hurry out onto the pitch.

My point proven, I looked at Lucas. “Oh yeah. That man is dying to go out with me.”

~

Roy stared at his phone with a deep frown. He hated having her phone number; more than once, when he was home alone with a drink in his hand, he found his thumb hovering over her name, tempted to text her or- even worse- call her. He wasn’t sure what the fuck he would even say, but he knew one of these days he was going to fuck up and hit that button.

Not that there was a single text between the two of them; they were, however, in a couple of group chats together. Right now, there was a new message for the two of them from Rebecca: Come to my office please.

Without a word, he showed the text to Beard, who simply nodded, immediately understanding that Roy wanted him to take charge for a bit. Wishing he had an excuse to avoid this meeting, maybe even meet with Rebecca one-on-one instead, Roy trudged back into the building and began to make his way to Rebecca’s office, grateful that he could at least walk alone.

Alone until he felt someone fall into step beside him. He didn’t need to turn his head to know it was her; and if he did, he didn’t know what he’d say. Unfortunately for Roy, she decided to fill the silence.

“We’re not in trouble, are we?” she asked, her voice almost light. “I mean, we haven’t even been in the same room long enough for us to argue.

Roy didn’t even give a grunt of acknowledgement. Instead, he picked up his pace ever so slightly, hoping she’d take the hint. Instead, she sped up as well, walking entirely too close for his comfort. When her shoulder bumped into his, he swore his whole arm felt like it was on fire.

Two incredibly long minutes later, they arrived at Rebecca’s office, where their boss sat at her desk, looking, for the first time, happy to see the two of them together.

“My managers!” she greeted, gesturing for the pair to sit down across from her. “For once, no one is in trouble,” she assured them with a wink, as if she knew what they were thinking. “The exact opposite, in fact.”

Roy tilted his head, relieved he could focus his attention on Rebecca. “Everything alright?”

Rebecca nodded enthusiastically. “Everything is great.” She turned to the other coach. “You feel ready for your first match?”

There was that cocky grin. “Oh absolutely. Next Saturday, we make history. The first of many Whippet victories.” Her voice was so confident, so sure. It managed to be simultaneously infuriating and attractive.

“That’s my girl,” Rebecca chirped with a wink. She turned to Roy. “And you fellas?”

Roy cleared his throat and sat up. “Yeah, feeling good. Got Crystal Palace here at home, should go in our favor.”

Rebecca nodded. “Excellent. Should be a good opening weekend all around.” She twiddled her thumbs, clearly wondering how to pivot to whatever she wanted to talk to them about. “I don’t want to add to your workload,” she started slowly, clearly intent on adding to their workload. “But at the retreat, I was watching your teams play that silly little game after their practice time. The one-on-one scrimmages?”

“Oh, that was great.” The American turned to Roy. “We should try that here sometime.”

Not wanting Rebecca to see him ignore his fellow manager, he nodded with a small grunt. Apparently enough of an answer to satisfy both women, since Rebecca went on.

“It was fabulous to watch. Really reminded me how much talent we have here, on both sides.” Her smile began to grow, green eyes sparkling. “So, I sent Keeley a video and we began chatting about how fun it was to see both teams together like that…” She shrugged. “And we’ve decided to have a little exhibition match.”

Roy leaned forward. “An exhibition match?” he repeated incredulously.

Rebecca nodded. “We’ll split each team and half and combine them so it’s a mix of Greyhounds and Whippets. You’ll each manage one of the teams.” She glanced at her computer. “You’ve both got a weekend off in five weeks, so that’s when it’ll be.” She was beaming, that same proud smile she’d worn when she first told the Greyhounds about the women’s team. “And Keeley thought we could make it a charity event. Half the proceeds to my foundation for underprivileged children, the other half to a charity of the winning manager’s choosing.” Her eyes shifted between the two gaffers. “So?”

Roy wasn’t surprised when the Whippet’s coach broke out into a grin. “I think that’s incredible,” she gushed. “It’ll be a great opportunity for the community to see us as one team.” She glanced at Roy. “What d’you think, Kent?”

Her asking for his thoughts was surprising. “I think it’s fine,” he blurted out. “I mean, good. Good idea, Rebecca.”

That was exactly what she was hoping to hear. “Excellent! I’ll have Keeley and Higgins get right on advertising and tickets and just-” Her smile looked like it hurt, it was so wide. “This’ll be fun. So fun.” She cleared her throat, composing herself. “Right. You two just have to worry about creating the teams and choosing your charity, then.”

“The Women’s Sports Foundation.” Roy had never heard someone answer so quickly.

Rebecca nodded. “Of course,” she chuckled. “Roy, just let me know when you’ve picked-”

“BMA Charities,” Roy blurted out. Rebecca blinked at him. “I mean, I’ll probably check in with Beard and Nate, but…” He shrugged. “I like ‘em.”

Next to him came the sound of someone clearing their throat. “BMA?”

Reluctantly, Roy turned his head, his eyes finding hers as if by magnetic force. “British Medical Association,” he clarified, pretending he didn’t feel like there was an elephant on his chest. “They do shit for doctors and med students.”

“Oh.”

Why did Roy want more than “Oh”? Why did it matter what she thought of his charity?

And why, once they were dismissed from Rebecca’s office and had walked down the hall to head back to their respective trainings, did Roy wish they could’ve walked together just a little bit longer?

~

For nearly a week, my first Game Day outfit hung up in my bedroom. The entire week before was spent selecting each piece carefully. My most flattering jeans, Richmond-blue blouse, white blazer, and the white low-tops I’d bought especially for the occasion.

As I cuffed my jeans, I looked at myself in the mirror. Yes. Good. Professional, sporty, and- dare I say it?- pretty. My first few months in England had been a blur of soccer, soccer, and more soccer, which hadn’t left me any time for… extracurricular activities, as Lucas put it.

In fact, the closest I’d gotten to dating would have to be at the club when Roy Kent thought I was hitting on him. Yeuch. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe I should get on the apps or something.

I shook my head at my reflection with a groan. Seriously? The morning before my first game in England, and there I was thinking about dating? Good Lord, Gloria Steinem was going to revoke my feminist card if I didn’t focus.

Determined to keep my eye on the ball, so to speak, I finished getting ready, throwing my hair into a ponytail and saving my red lipstick for last. I had worn this bright red lipstick my first time coaching a professional game and had won 5-0; it had become my good luck charm after that. Never went to a game, or a press conference, or an interview without it.

“Look at you,” Lucas greeted when I opened my door, looking at me over the top of his sunglasses. “Soccer Coach Barbie.”

I gave a little twirl, laughing at my friend’s praise. “You feel like winning, Luke?”

We walked into Nelson Road with smiles on our faces and Whippet water bottles in our hands. There was an electric buzz in the halls, and I couldn’t help but notice the particularly bright smiles on the faces of the women who worked for A.F.C. and W.F.C. Richmond. The biggest smile was on Keeley’s face, which we saw as soon as we walked into our office.

“Big day!” Keeley squealed as she pulled me into a hug. “You excited?”

“Very,” I confirmed, giving her a squeeze before letting go.

Keeley stepped back and looked down at her phone. “So, we’ve got a bit of pomp and circumstance before the match. Introduce the team, and you, little speech from Rebecca.” She winked at me. “A few words from our fearless manager. Then we go out there and kick some ass!”

After Keeley’s little itinerary, the rest of the time before the match was a blur. Players strutted into the locker room, pride on their faces when they looked up and saw their names above their lockers- a change made to celebrate our first match. After today, they���d be changed to reflect both players who used the locker, but today the Greyhounds insisted on letting the Whippets have their moment to shine.

Lucas and I spent some time in our office, reviewing our starting lineup and plays we wanted to keep in our back pockets. I did my best to ignore the goosebumps that formed every time I looked at the clock and saw the time inch closer to game time, but I found myself beginning to bounce on my toes.

I almost confused the buzzing of my body for the buzzing from my phone.

My office please.

Normally, Rebecca’s texts made my heart freeze, but not today. Today was a good day. The best day. I practically skipped to her office, feeling weirdly aware of the feeling of my sneakers hitting the ground. My eyes travelled over the photos of the Greyhounds’ history, of the men- coaches, players, owners- who made A.F.C. Richmond what it was. And it dawned on me that we would someday be on that wall- me, Rebecca, Keeley, Lucas, the magnificent women who were now changing into their Whippets kits for the first time.

By the time I reached Rebecca’s door, tears were threatening to fall.

“You wanted to see me?”

It was the millionth smile I’d seen that morning, but it was easily my favorite. Rebecca looked as if she was about to explode at the sight of me, looking glamorous as ever in her dress and coat- a coat that I noticed bore a little W.F.C. Richmond pin.

“Are you ready?” came her whispered question as she approached me.

“More than ready,” I assured her, a tingle going through my whole body as she took my hands in hers.

She gave my hands a squeeze. “I just… needed to say thank you,” she said. “Thank you for taking such good care of this…” She blinked a few times, her eyes shiny with tears. “I feel as if my child is going for her first day of school, I’m just so proud. I love the Greyhounds, but this is the very first thing that has ever been mine. All mine.” She shook her head. “And I am so happy that you are our manager.”

“Oh, Rebecca-”

Rebecca released my hands in favor of pulling me into a hug. “We’re going to win,” she hummed. “We’re going to win the whole fucking thing.”

I carried Rebecca’s words with me back through the building as I returned to the locker room, where my team would be waiting for one more pep talk. People nodded and waved to me in the hall, each moment of acknowledgement adding just a bit more weight to my shoulders.

“Oi.”

Just outside the locker room, I turned around. Roy Kent was a few paces behind me, hands in the pockets of his Greyhounds jacket. He gave a nod as he walked up to me.

“Good luck out there.”

It was probably the kindest thing he’d said to me since we’d met. Maybe the second kindest, after our moment in the shed.

“Thanks,” I stammered out. “You getting ready for your match already or something?”

To my surprise, he shook his head. “Here for your match. Rebecca asked us to come, show solidarity or some shit.” He shrugged. “So, I just thought I’d wish you luck.” He paused, glancing at the wall beside us, one that held a photo of him in a Greyhounds kit, running on the pitch. “It’s kind of scary,” he mumbled. “Your first match as a manager.”

“I’ve managed a team before,” I reminded him, giving a little cough into my closed fist. “But, you know, new country and all. Still scary as hell.”

“Right. Right.” He gazed at me for a moment, his eyes locked onto mine. I wondered if the shiver I felt was from the air conditioning or the intensity of his stare. “Well. Go get ‘em. Or whatever.” With a small grunt, he turned and walked away. Before I went into the locker room, I turned to look at him again. At that same moment, he turned his head and glanced back at me. As soon as our eyes met, he whipped back around and picked up his pace.

Weird.

But I couldn’t focus on that. My concentration needed to be entirely on the game.

“Alright Whippets!” I called as I entered the locker room. “Are we ready?”

I had rehearsed this speech for weeks. In bed before I fell asleep, in front of the mirror as I brushed my hair, in the shower while I avoided getting shampoo in my mouth, even to Lucas on a couple of occasions. And now I stood in front of twenty-seven talented women, ready to hear it.

“Alright, here it is,” I started. “Our moment. You are the first women to call yourselves Whippets. Wear it proudly.” I took a deep breath. “Never forget why you’re here. Never forget that feeling you had the moment you fell in love with this sport, when you knew that nothing else would make you as happy as being out there on that field.” I saw some wistful smiles appear. My own mind wandered to that afternoon my grandfather had taken me out to the backyard, the afternoon I knew I wanted to play soccer forever. “Remember that little girl who fell in love with the feeling of the ball at her feet. And go out there and play for her. Because today, we’re going to help the little girls of Richmond fall in love too.” I stretched out my arm, watching my players follow suit until all of our hands were in the center of the locker room. “Let’s go show them how the Whippets do it.”

There were cheers of agreement as a lump formed in my throat. I nodded to Kira Malone. “Captain?”

“Whippets on three, Whippets on three! One, two, three!”

“Whippets!”

~

Roy sat in the owner’s box next to Keeley, fiddling with the case on his phone, needing to do something with the burst of energy he felt. It only grew when the Whippets were introduced and took their places lined up on the field, bouncing with excitement as their names were called. Roy, of course, clapped along with the rest of the crowd, determined to be supportive with everyone in the box watching him.

“And the manager of your W.F.C. Richmond Whippets-”

A buzzing began in Roy’s ears. He watched as she took her place beside her team, the smile on her face evident even from where he sat. She looked gorgeous. Strong, joyful, confident. The sight set his whole body aflame.

He tried to focus on Rebecca’s speech, he really did. He knew this was a big moment for his friend. But fuck, all his eyes wanted to look at was her. And, once Rebecca handed over the microphone, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Hello Richmond!” she began, eliciting cheers from the crowd- a sold-out crowd, much to Keeley and Rebecca’s relief and excitement. “Thank you for making history with us today. We are so proud to be your W.F.C. Richmond Whippets.” She smiled, soaking up the roars that naturally followed the team’s name. “We just want to say thank you to our dear Rebecca Welton and Keeley Jones, our incredible foundresses.” She wrapped her arm around Rebecca. “They are truly the heart of this team. We’d also like to give a giant thank you to your Greyhounds.” Thunderous applause. “Coach Kent and the team have been great housemates and have helped us to really feel at home here at the Dog Track. Thank you, boys!”

Keeley nudged Roy, whose face was on fire at the sound of his name. “She’s a fucking natural, isn’t she?” Keeley gushed. “And doesn’t she look stunning?”

Roy grunted. He was having a hard time hearing anything but her speech. “And we want to take a moment to say thank you to all the parents that brought their daughters here today. They are why we’re out here.” She turned to her team, who were watching her with admiration on their faces. “Whippets, are you ready to show them what it means to play like a girl?”

The stadium was deafening as she handed over the microphone to someone before smiling for photos beside her team. He sat quietly through the rest of the opening ceremonies before the match began. He hadn’t realized it before, but the owner’s box had a perfect view of the dugout; he spent half the game with his eyes glued there, watching her shout to her team, pacing back and forth, effortlessly cool in her blazer and sneakers. He bit back a groan when her blazer came off, revealing perfectly tanned shoulders, kissed from all the time the former athlete had spent in the sun. He wondered what those arms would feel like wrapped around- fuck.

Roy Kent really needed to get ahold of himself.

“You alright, Roy?” Keeley looked at him with genuine concern. “Your face is all… blotchy and red. Are you having a fucking heart attack or something?”

Rebecca, who’d taken her seat just before the match began, leaned around Keeley, her eyes still half-glued to the pitch. “Roy’s having a heart attack?”

Roy rolled his eyes and slouched in his surprisingly comfortable seat. “’m not having a fucking heart attack,” he grumbled.

From in front of him, Coach Beard grunted. “Oh, your heart’s doing something, alright.”

“Fuck off,” Roy growled, forcing his eyes to return to the pitch, hating the way he couldn’t help looking at the dugout every few seconds.

“What’s this?” Keeley leaned forward with more interest than Roy knew what to do with. She studied him carefully, taking in the sight of his red cheeks and shifty eyes. “Oh! You’ve got a crush, haven’t you?”

“Fuck off,” Roy repeated, sagging down further.

Instead of doing as she was told, Keeley began surveying the pitch carefully. “Hmm. Wonder who it could be… Amanda Camacho’s quite pretty… Samara Scott’s fit…” She stopped turning her eyes carefully to Roy, who was staring straight ahead, refusing to let his eyes land anywhere incriminating. “Unless…”

“Unless?” Rebecca repeated; the woman should have been holding popcorn in her hands, she was so invested.

“It’s not a player, is it, Roy?” Keeley leered at Roy. “Maybe it’s a coach?” She nudged him. “And I don’t think Lucas is quite your type.”

Roy knew his bright red ears were a dead giveaway, but if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he sure as hell wasn’t admitting anything to Keeley Jones, ogling at him with those fucking eyes of hers. “Keeley, I’m getting real fucking annoyed,” he warned her. “I was basically ordered to come to this game, I’ve got my own season opener tonight, so I don’t need you acting like we’re fucking thirteen making up imaginary crushes and shit, alright?”

Keeley’s squeaky little hmmph told him that while she wouldn’t keep pushing him right now, this conversation was far from over.

~

The shriek of the whistle had me throwing my arms around Lucas and squeezing him tight. A 3-1 win was a pretty great way to announce W.F.C. Richmond’s arrival to the league. A blur of hugs and handshakes eventually carried me inside, where I passed a few players starting to do short interviews, their faces glowing with sweat and pride.

“Any chance The Richmond Star could get an exclusive with the winning manager?” George Willows smiled at me, one of those charming move-star smiles, the kind that a girl couldn’t help but feel grateful to receive.

“You could always show up for the press conference,” I teased, gesturing down the hall. “I promise to call on you for a question. Bet I could even get you a front-row seat.”

His smile turned awkward. “Oh, I’m not allowed in there,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his head in an attractively self-effacing way. “Your Greyhound counterpart got me completely banned from the Richmond press room.” He leaned in close, as if sharing a deep, dark secret. “He once threw a chair at me during a press conference. Since then, I’m not allowed to cover the Greyhounds or go in the press room.”

My mouth fell open at this piece of information. “That’s insane,” I hissed. “He throws a chair, and you get banned?”

George shrugged, clearly used to it. “Can’t exactly ban a manager from his own press room, eh?”

“Well, if you stick around,” I started slowly, stretching out my flirting muscles that were dreadfully underused, “I can fill you in on whatever you miss. Give you that exclusive.”

“Oi.”

Of course. Of course the moment I flirted with a guy, Roy Kent was there to interrupt, with his stupid beard and deep frown and eyes that lingered a moment too long on my face. “What?” I groaned, knowing I sounded like a petulant teenager caught kissing a boy on her front porch.

His frown deepened; if he was any other man, I’d marvel at how it did nothing to take away from his handsomeness. “Keeley’s asking for you. Says they’re ready for you in the press room.” His eyes narrowed in George’s direction. “Same rules, apply, Willows. Stay the fuck out.”

I offered George an apologetic smile. “Think we could stake a raincheck on that exclusive?”

“I’ll text you,” he promised with a wink.

There was a definite blush on my face as I turned to follow Roy to the press room. “Surprised you stuck around,” I mused as we fell into step together. “Thought you’d be long gone by now, get some rest before your game.”

“Wanted to offer my congratulations,” he mumbled. “To Rebecca,” he quickly added. “And the team. And Lucas.” His eyes flashed to my face for a brief moment. “And you.”

“Well, thanks,” I huffed as we arrived at the press room. “Meant a lot having you fellas here.” I kicked the ground, making a mental note to clean my shoes when I got home. “Hope you all win your game tonight,” I added as we stopped in front of the press room.

“Will you be there?”

Those were the last words I expected to come out of Roy Kent’s mouth. It reminded me of when my high school crush invited me to his baseball game, right down to the fidgeting and the question marks in Roy’s eyes.

Ignoring the way it made me feel, I nodded. “Uh, yeah, yeah I’ll come.” Rebecca had offered me a ticket, but said she understood if I wanted to be out celebrating. But if the Greyhounds came to my game, I should definitely go to theirs. Right? “Better get in there.” I jerked my head towards the closed press room door.

Roy shrugged, his eyes almost playful. “They’ll wait for you.”

I let out a small chuckle, unable to believe that we were having a civil conversation. “I’ll see you later, Kent.”

“See you, Coach.”

~

Sundays were for Phoebe. Roy would pick her up and take her to breakfast, letting her gorge herself on chocolate chip pancakes, then let her pick something to do together. Sometimes it was going to some Disney movie at the theatre, sometimes a museum, sometimes a trip to the toy shop, once in a while a beach excursion. Today, she simply wanted to go to the park for a picnic.

Of course, Roy obliged his niece. He packed up some sandwiches and snacks, rolled out a blanket, and brought a football and some cones. He might spoil the girl, but he was still her coach. Once they’d devoured their lunch and sat around for a bit, he pulled her to her feet and began kicking around the ball with her.

Being eight years old, her aim wasn’t always perfect. So, Roy really shouldn’t have been too surprised when she gave a wonky kick that sent the ball flying out of their play area.

“You kicked it, you get it!” Roy called, nodding in the direction the ball flew in.

Phoebe obediently jogged off, always eager to do what her uncle asked. Roy perked up when he heard her little voice, high-pitched with excitement.

“Oh! Do you play for the Whippets? My uncle Roy coaches the Greyhounds!”

He turned around and saw, to his great astonishment, Phoebe gazing up at a familiar pretty face.

The eyes Roy kept telling himself not to think about snapped up in his direction before looking back at Phoebe. “Um, yeah, I know your uncle Roy. I actually coach the Whippets.” She rolled the ball between her hands.

Roy walked over, watching Phoebe’s face light up.  She gasped with joy. “You’re Coach Buck! My mum told me about you. You have an Olympic Gold Medal!”

That fucking medal.

She gave an awkward little laugh and tossed the ball back to Phoebe. “That would be me. Do you play…” She offered Roy a small smirk before looking back at Phoebe. “… football?”

“I do! My uncle Roy coaches my team at school. He’s very good.”

“I’m sure he is.”

Feeling his face warm at the praise, Roy tapped Phoebe on the shoulder. “Oi, Pheebs, why don’t you go set up the cones? Do some dribbling?”

Phoebe stuck her little hand out, her politeness reminding Roy of how mature she was becoming. “I’m Phoebe, by the way. It was nice to meet you, Coach Buck.”

“Very nice to meet you too, Phoebe.” She shook the girl’s hand firmly. “We’ll have to get you and your mum out to a Whippets’ game sometime, alright?” The wink she gave Phoebe had Roy holding his breath.

“Yes!”

Roy cleared his throat. “Pheebs, the cones?”

Phoebe scurried off to do as she was told. Both adults watched her for a moment before turning back to each other, exchanging awkward half-smiles.

“You coach her school team?”

Roy shrugged. “They’re good girls. Decent players, too. And they listen a hell of a lot better than the pricks at Richmond.”

She nodded, studying Roy carefully. “So, you don’t hate women’s soccer. It’s just me.”

“I don’t hate you.” She shot him a skeptical look that he couldn’t help chuckling at. “Alright fine, I fucking hate you.”

Her laugh would echo through his head for the rest of the afternoon. “Don’t worry, I hate you too.”

They both stood there, grinning and hating each other, both kind of wishing literally anyone from Nelson Road was there to witness their civility. Hell, someone might even mistake it for friendliness. Some idiots might go so far as to get it mixed up with flirting.

“So that’s your niece.”

“That’s my niece,” Roy confirmed, following her gaze to Phoebe, who had finished setting up the cones the way he’d taught her and was starting to dribble between then.

“The one that draws the…”

Roy chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the one that draws the…” He mirrored the way she trailed off.

Her smile grew soft as she watched Phoebe. “She’s cute.”

“She’s a fucking idiot,” Roy scoffed. “But she’s my fucking idiot, I guess.”

A small hmmph escaped her lips as she tilted her head thoughtfully. “You know, for the exhibition game, Keeley and I were talking about having kids escort the players out to the field. Thought it’d be nice to have it evenly split, boys and girls.”

“Because we don’t have enough girls walking out with the Greyhounds?” His defensiveness was almost a reflex at this point. “Because honestly, we do our best, we just get a lot more boys interested, alright?”

For once, she didn’t take the bait for an argument. “Actually, I was wondering if Picasso there would be interested in being one of our kids.”

Roy blinked, feeling like an idiot for his reaction. “Oh. Yeah, I think she’d like that. Just need to ask my sister.”

“She can even hang out in the dugout during the game.” Her voice was light, friendly. “Let her see a woman coaching a team. It’s important for girls to see that kind of thing, you know? Why d’you think I keep Brandi in my office? Even if your niece isn’t interested in soccer as a career, any little girl would benefit from seeing women doing ‘men’s work’.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice, thanks.” Roy paused, kicking a rock with the toe of his sneaker. “My sister’s a doctor, by the way.”

“Oh.” She looked directly at Roy now, thoughtfulness coloring her expression. “She’s why you picked your charity. The med student one.”

Roy nodded. “Exactly.” He hesitated but decided to continue. “She’s a single mum. Things aren’t always easy. She’s stubborn as hell and refuses my help outside of babysitting. She’s, er, had to rely on BMA for help once or twice.” He stared at her for a moment. “I get the strong, independent woman thing. I respect it.”

He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the sight of her soft smile. “You must be proud of her.”

“I am,” Roy confirmed. “And of Pheobe too. She’s a strong kid.”

There was a comfortable silence as they watched Phoebe continue her drill, her blonde hair flying in her face, not deterring her tiny focus. Roy found that he really liked the way Coach Buck looked at his niece; there was a fondness there that made his chest feel warmer than it had in a long time.

“She’s why I love my job,” she finally murmured. “Girls like her. I was so lucky to grow up with heroes that made me believe that seeing my name on the back of a jersey and being an Olympian was something I could realistically aspire to. And all I wanted was to be the same for other little girls. My dream was that someday, some little girl would have my poster on her wall.”

Roy knew that feeling. “Be her Brandi Chastain,” he murmured before he had the chance to even think.

She looked surprised, almost impressed, her mouth forming a perfect O when she realized he’d remembered that name. The grin that grew on her lips was slow and gorgeous. “Be her Brandi Chastain,” she repeated softly.

Roy thought they’d get to share another moment of just looking at each other, wondering how else to fill the silence, when her eyes suddenly widened. She whipped out her phone and took a look at it.

“Shit,” she hissed. “I’m late.”

“Late?”

Her eyes suddenly became shifty as she avoided Roy’s gaze. “Got an interview about yesterday’s match,” she murmured.

George fucking Willows. “Oh. Right.” Roy cleared his throat, retreating back into himself. “Better get going, then.”

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow?” She took a step backwards, away from Roy, away from their conversation and whatever moment they were having.

Roy knew he was offering up a grimace rather than a grin. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

~

The next few weeks were… peaceful. Probably the most peaceful I’d had since starting at Richmond. I wouldn’t say Roy Kent was friendly to me, but we weren’t screaming at each other, and he wasn’t pointedly ignoring me the way he had after the retreat either. He was even running silently on the treadmill next to me again. We were finally just coexisting. And I kind of liked it.

“How’s this?”

A paper was shoved in front of me on my desk, interrupting the email I was writing. I looked up and saw Roy looking at me expectantly. When I looked down, I realized it was a pair of rosters, with our teams divided up and combined.

“Oh.” I blinked. “You picked the teams already?”

“Had Isaac and Kira do it,” he corrected me. “Wanted to see what the captains thought before we did it ourselves.” He shrugged. “Did a fucking good job in my opinion. I’m okay with their picks if you are.”

I took a moment to read through the rosters; he was right. “Well, it saves us the work,” I chuckled, handing the paper back to Roy. “They’re split evenly enough to make things fair. My team’s still going to kick your ass though,” I teased.

He raised one of those thick eyebrows at me. “Care to make a wager?” he challenged.

“I mean, there’s already the whole thing with our charities,” I reminded him, twirling the pen in my hands between my fingers. “But what’d you have in mind?”

He thought for a moment. “Winner gets to pick someone for the loser to dance with at the gala.”

Rebecca’s charity gala. It was just a few weeks away, and already it was all everyone could talk about. Both teams were buzzing with gossip about outfits and dates; a couple of Greyhounds had even asked a couple of Whippets to attend with them, much to everyone’s amusement and nerves. My favorite rumor I’d heard was that one of my goalkeepers was bringing Timothee Chalamet as her date.

“Fine.” I stuck out my hand to Roy. “It’s a bet.”

His eyes froze on my hand for a moment before he took it, giving it a firm shake. “Right,” he muttered, letting go quickly. “Got to head to the pitch. Just wanted to run the teams by you.” He gave an awkward little salute. “See you around.”

He was gone before I could even say “see you”.

The morning of the exhibition game, I found myself leaning back in my chair and staring up at Brandi Chastain, thinking about how crazy it was that I, an American who had won the World Cup and had an Olympic Gold Medal, was in England, the head coach of a professional women’s team. And it was because of Brandi Chastain, and Mia Hamm, and Kristine Lilly, and so many other names that were etched into my very soul. I wondered if somewhere out there was a little girl who felt the same about me.

“Hi, Coach Buck!”

I turned around and felt my mouth immediately turn into a grin. “Well, hello, Phoebe.” The woman behind her was looking at me with interest as I shot out of my chair and strolled over. “You must be her mom.” I stuck my hand out. “I’m-”

“Oh, I know exactly who you are,” she said with a laugh, shaking my hand warmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh.” My eyes flickered to Roy, who had appeared behind the duo.

His sister cleared her throat. “You know, from the news. Seen you on the telly, read a few articles, saw a couple of TikToks.”

I forced a smile, scolding myself for thinking Roy Kent talked about me at home. “Oh, wow, I’m on TikTok? Biggest accomplishment of my life right there.” I turned to Phoebe, who was wearing a Whippets jersey. “I hear you’re joining me on the pitch today.”

Phoebe nodded enthusiastically. “Uncle Roy said I get to hang out with you the whole game.”

“That’s right,” I confirmed. “Here, you can hang onto this for me.” I grabbed my clipboard from my desk and handed it to her. “It’s got my lineup and notes. Very important. Think you can manage?”

“Yes!”

I reached out and ruffled her hair. “Excellent. Just don’t let your uncle Roy see it, alright?” I shot her a wink before I turned back to the adults. “Your brother got you good seats, I hope?” I teased Roy’s sister.

“Owner’s box, believe it or not.” She raised her eyebrows. “In fact, I’m heading up there now to take advantage of the free booze and snacks.” She turned to Roy. “Can I leave Phee with you?” When her brother grunted and shrugged, she knelt down and began to say goodbye to Phoebe, offering last-minute reminders about behavior and listening to adults.

As mother and daughter spoke, I took a step closer to Roy. “Ready to lose?”

He snorted, an almost friendly sound. “Nope. Yourself?”

“Nope.”

By the time we were on the pitch, Phoebe was my new little best friend. She proudly stood by my side as we lined up, with Rebecca reminding the crowd that each team was playing for charity- my team for the Women’s Sports Foundation, Roy’s for BMA Charities. He and I exchanged curt nods as we turned to our dugouts, all business as the match got underway.

Phoebe clutched my clipboard to her chest and stuck to my side the entire match. I had expected her to want to sit and relax at some point, but instead she was my second shadow, mimicking the way I paced, watching me even more than the game. It was the most flattered I’d ever felt in my life.

I snuck a few glances over to the other dugout, amused at the opportunity to watch Roy Kent coach up close and in person. He was loud- unsurprisingly- and passionate. What was a bit more surprising was the compassion he carried, the way he shouted support to his players (and mine) throughout the game.

And his Greyhounds parka looked pretty good on him.

Shaking my head as I caught myself staring for the umpteenth time, I turned my attention back to the game, feeling thankful to have Jamie Tartt on my team. He’d scored two goals already, and we were all tied up. No one had brought up the idea of what to do in the case of a draw, but I didn’t want to think about that; I wanted the win. And, with less than two minutes left in stoppage time, Kira passed the ball to Jamie, who breezed by one of the Greyhound defenders to come face to face with one of my goalkeepers.

“Let’s go Jamie!” I heard Lucas shout beside me.

When the ball hit the back of the net, I threw my arms in the air.  We were close, so close to the end of the game. After the kickoff, there were only a few touches before the referee blew her whistle.

“Yes!” I yelled, bumping fists and hips with Lucas. I turned and high-fived Phoebe. “Great job, Coach Pheebs.”

She beamed at me. “Thank you! That was so much fun!”

Both teams lined up on the field, exchanging hugs and high-fives as we all waited for Rebecca to come onto the pitch to announce the donation. She was absolutely glowing as she stood on the field, flanked by Roy and myself.

“What a game!” she began. “Thank you to our players for giving it their all, and of course our wonderful managers for leading these impressive teams.”

Roy stepped out in front of Rebecca and offered his hand. Shooting him a grin, I reached out and shook it firmly, keenly aware of the shuttering of cameras going off the moment our hands touched.

Rebecca went on. “Thank you all for joining us today. The proceeds from our tickets, as well as the generous donations from our sponsors and so many of you, will be going to two wonderful charities. The first is the Welton Foundation, which benefits underprivileged children in our community. The second-”

Without thinking about what I was about to do, I tapped Rebecca’s shoulder. She shot me a confused look but leaned in close. “I’d like to share it.”

“What?”

My eyes shot to Roy, who was staring at me with perplexed eyes. “The money. Split it between the Sports Foundation and BMA.”

Rebecca’s face turned soft. “Lovely,” she murmured, giving me a proud nod of approval. She returned to the microphone. “We have a slight change of plan. Our winning team has chosen to split their donation. So, all the proceeds from today’s match will go to the Welton Foundation, the Women’s Sports Foundation, and BMA charities.”

Roy Kent broke out into a full, true smile as he looked at me. “Thank you,” he mouthed.

All I could do was shrug in response, ignoring the heat on my cheeks when I saw the way his eyes lingered on me long after the cheering had died down. When I did finally turn away, Lucas was giving me his smarmiest grin.

“Oh, shut up,” I hissed as we made our way back towards the locker rooms, ignoring the now-familiar feeling that someone was staring at me.

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[gffa]

Star Wars: From a Certain Point of View: Return of the Jedi | "Brotherhood" I NEED YOU TO UNDERSTAND THAT I STRAIGHT UP CRIED REAL TEARS AT THIS MOMENT. IT WAS EXACTLY WHAT I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED TO READ AND IT HIT ME RIGHT IN MY EMOTIONS. I was so wary going into this story, because the concepts of Force Ghosts are deeply important to me on a narrative level, that the Force and Lucas' philosphy in the movies and for the worldbuilding is that the message is: You need to let go when it's time. You can't hold on beyond anything or anyone's time, it will only cause you and others suffering. So, when Anakin's fiery determination seemed to be what kept him around as a Force ghost, I sighed a bit and kept shouldering on. I did not expect to be hit by the one-two-three-four punch of Obi-Wan's gentle guidance to get Anakin to the other side of the Force, Anakin's regret for what he'd done and the heart-wrenching way he instinctively turns to Obi-Wan and listens to him, Anakin looking on over his children with pride and faith in what they would do next, and then the ultimate message: "Finally, Anakin Skywalker let go." I AM EMOTIONAL. MY BOY FINALLY GOT TO THE PLACE THAT GAVE HIM PEACE. It was a perfect build-up to where Anakin needed to be in this moment, that this story is centered around the depth of his connection to Obi-Wan, that it's instinctual for him to reach out and grab onto the hand Obi-Wan is holding out to him, to turn to Obi-Wan and listen, like a flower turns towards the sun, now that he's out of the worst of the haze of the dark side. To seeing his children, seeing Padme in them, seeing both of them in the twins, and finally, finally letting all that noise in his head go. Trusting that Luke and Leia and their friends would make their own way forward. "It just took one final nudge from Obi-Wan to get there. Finally, Anakin Skywalker let go." What a perfect summation of Anakin's character and his difficult journey, his relationship with Obi-Wan, and one of the most central themes George Lucas intended for Star Wars. Becoming a Force Ghost is about letting go--Qui-Gon said that in the original ROTS script, he said it in TCW, the OWK show basically had the same message, and now Anakin has gotten there, too. That it acknowledged his part in everything that happened and did it with tremendous compassion, because that's what Jedi are all about. Obi-Wan has let go as well, he doesn't hang onto the hurt or the suffering, especially not when he will gain so much by letting go and embracing compassion for Anakin. He gently guides Anakin to understanding that he wasn't solely responsible for everything, only for the choices he made. Those choices were terrible, he bears that mark, they aren't erased just because Anakin is sorry, but holding onto all that guilt and pain is just more suffering. Obi-Wan has let go and, through that, he can guide Anakin to let go as well, and regain his friend. This is everything the Jedi have always taught coming to fruition. So, I'm emotional for my baby boy, that he finally got there after a lifetime of struggling, that he's finally at peace, and I'm emotional as a Star Wars fan, that the themes of my favorite franchise were just knocked out of the park.