#edit: ITS DELAYED FOR OVER AN HOUR??
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me thinking i was going to miss the episode just to find out it was delayed
#big brother#bb26#edit: ITS DELAYED FOR OVER AN HOUR??#thereâs still an hour long show after 60 minutes??????
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Transcript:
I'd like to congratulate you on getting your CPR certification.
Now remember, when youâre going in for compressions, it should sound like somebody is standing behind you with the worlds largest Dorito and cracking it open!
Go in firm and hard and snap as many ribs as you can on the way down, that means youâre doing it right.
You save that life. Good luck.
Or... Or... Or kill them, I donât fucking care.
Audio source
#ultrakill#gabriel ultrakill#congratulations this is misinformation and by listening to it you have actually gotten a bit dumber <3#you're welcome!#anyway. this is the first post using a new method for the filter. my second time completely redoing it lol#can anyone but me tell the difference? probably not! did i spend hours trying to figure it out? yes!#basically what i did was download an unedited audio from his patreon and compared it to the edited version (the srimp special if u care LOL#and did edits- then compared it to the edited version. over. and over. and over........ and over.......................#ANYWAY.#turns out i have been delaying too little#before i had done between .025 to .075 depending on the audio#its more around .1#i also downloaded reaper to add the bitcrush#so its about as close as i can get it without having the exact number that the filter is supposed to be delayed by#i could not for the life of me figure out why mine has less 'echo' but its close enough..#plus the audio from the streams is not the best quality and already has a slight filter on it anyway so like- theres only so much i can do#cough. so anyway i brought my laptop to work today and spent a long time figuring that out#paid to shitpost on company time~#also i have no idea if this is too loud or too quiet cause the audio levels on my laptop are weird#like anything over 10% volume is super loud#i was at 6% while editing but idk how that is going to translate over to other people uhhhhh idk let me know if its ok
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Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~
(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)
#ootd#jfashion#fashion#fantasy fashion#mori kei#....like... adjacent... lol#no idea what style this would be lol.. makes me think of like whimsical vaguely fantasy themed childrens book character#finally posting one of my aforementioned seven million drafts of actual outfits and costumes i have finished and edited#the photos for but just never feel like posting lol..#I need to find one of those people whos like 'omg i am ADDICTED to social media ugh i wish i could get off of it#im just browsing and posting like 60 times a daaaaay!!!' and take a little magical bottle and suck some of the social media#enthusiasim out of them. for moi. In exchange they can have some of my 'literally just never in the mood to post or interact with the#outside world ever' energy. We can balance each other. huzzah and so on#Though I think maybe it's part of the general thing I've heard of like.. I can't remember if it was in reference to adhd or just some sort#of general execcutive functioning issue type of thing - but the idea that things have to be ''just right'' before you do something. like#'oh i need to do this task. but i have to wait until XYZ first' or 'oh i can do this but only if X specific condition is met' or etc#The fact that I even have to be in a Specific Mindset to post. or sometimes will delay posting on social media because like 'oh well#I'm going somewhere tomorrow. somehow this matters. i cannot spend 5 minuts posting TONIGHT. clearly it will interfere#somehow schedule wise with the doctor appointment i have 15 hours from now. yes. yes. i must wait until my appointment is over#tomorrow afternoon. THEN i shall post' or etc. etc. lol. NOT even taking into account the many days#I just genuinely and physically sick and it's not even a mental thing. I just physically dont feel like sitting at the computer lol..#ANYWAY.. trying to get back into it. trying to get a business bank account.. make a proper paypal so i can start selling sculptures again.#selling clothes and sculptures.. posting about such things then of course as one must. etc... chanting to hype up and motivate myself lol#But yes. this is my favorite outfit out of the bunch so I am posting it first I guess.. maybe others later..#Also the purple dress says its from shein. which I've heard is bad fast fashion stuff. but maybe okay since its second hand? I havent#been to the bins since like 2020 or late 2019 even. and I think stuff like shein and temu has only become poular in the past few years#but I bet if I went to the bins now I might would find a good handfull of that stuff. Probably now not much different than what you#find in a walmart or a forever 21 or actual physical stores you can go to though. I hear quality of clothing is down everywhere no matter#where you get it or whatnot. What bountiful joys unfettered capitalism and exploitation bestows upon us (<being sarcastic).#Wearing one of my favorite little vests though. I love the texture of it and the clasps on it
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Spider-Verse Artists Say Working on the Sequel Was âDeath by a Thousand Paper Cutsâ
Why donât more animated movies look this good? According to people who worked on the sequel, Across the Spider-Verse, itâs because the working conditions required to produce such artistry are not sustainable.
Multiple Across the Spider-Verse crew members â ranging from artists to production executives who have worked anywhere from five to a dozen years in the animation business â describe the process of making the the $150 million Sony project as uniquely arduous, involving a relentless kind of revisionism that compelled approximately 100 artists to flee the movie before its completion.
While frequent major overhauls are standard operating procedure in animation (Pixar films can take between four and seven years to plot, animate, and render), those changes typically occur early on during development and storyboarding stages. But these Spider-Verse 2 crew members say they were asked to make alterations to already-approved animated sequences that created a backlog of work across multiple late-stage departments. Across the Spider-Verse was meant to debut in theaters in April of 2022, before it was postponed to October of that year and then June 2023 owing to what Entertainment Weekly reported as âpandemic-related delays.â However, the four crew members say animators who were hired in the spring of 2021 sat idle for anywhere from three to six months that year while Phil Lord tinkered with the movie in the layout stage, when the first 3-D representation of storyboards are created.
As a result, these individuals say, they were pushed to work more than 11 hours a day, seven days a week, for more than a year to make up for time lost and were forced back to the drawing board as many as five times to revise work during the final rendering stage.
"For animated movies, the majority of the trial-and-error process happens during writing and storyboarding. Not with fully completed animation. Philâs mentality was, This change makes for a better movie, so why arenât we doing it? Itâs obviously been very expensive having to redo the same shot several times over and have every department touch it so many times. The changes in the writing would go through storyboarding. Then it gets to layout, then animation, then final layout, which is adjusting cameras and placements of things in the environment. Then thereâs cloth and hair effects, which have to repeatedly be redone anytime thereâs an animation change. The effects department also passes over the characters with ink lines and does all the crazy stuff like explosions, smoke, and water. And they work closely with lighting and compositing on all the color and visual treatments in this movie. Every pass is plugged into editing. Smaller changes tend to start with animation, and big story changes can involve more departments like visual development, modeling, rigging, and texture painting. These are a lot of artists affected by one change. Imagine an endless stream of them."
"Over 100 people left the project because they couldnât take it anymore. But a lot stayed on just so they could make sure their work survived until the end â because if it gets changed, itâs no longer yours. I know people who were on the project for over a year who left, and now they have little to show for it because everything was changed. They went through the hell of the production and then got none of their work coming out the other side."
#across the spider verse#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderverse#spiderman#marvel#atsv#phil lord#film#animation#vfx#post production#read the whole thing pls!
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Just Like Him
Summary: When you argue with Jason, you slowly start seeing less of Jason Todd and more of Bruce Wayne. (Jason Todd x reader)
Word Count: 1.9K
Notes: I legit came back home from a night out and sat here editing this till 3am cause I refused to miss a post haha. A little bit shorter due to that and I'll do a second look over it later. Only warning for this is mentions of violence as usual for most of these, and that it hasn't been as edited cleanly as usual. Tomorrow's post might be really delayed too since I've got events tomorrow too. Anyways, enjoy my Lovelies~! xx
âââââââââââââŕźťâŕźşââââââââââââââ
You had loved Jason. You did love Jason.
You loved the boy who was too awkward to hold your hand when you went out in public, who left you notes at your door when he was too frustrated and too pent up to explain himself properly. You loved his habits, his quirks, the way that he cooked you food if he knew he was going to be out for a few days, silently leaving it in the fridge in the hopes youâd keep yourself healthy.
You also loved the dark sides of him, the nightmares he woke up to, skin sticky with sweat. You loved him even when his eyes were lost in the darkness, unable to tell who you were exactly but still seeking the comfort of your arms to shield him. You loved him even when he tensed outside in public, a sound, a smell, setting him off and making him clench onto your hand. His eyes were scared, but you didnât mind bringing him back into reality, letting him know that you were here for him.Â
Yet on nights like these, you love for him faltered slightly. These were the nights that you couldnât temper, the ones here he burned angrily and bit hard. He was currently pacing the kitchen, hands in his hair after a rough patrol.Â
âYou just donât understand.â He murmured over and over. âMaybe you just donât get it. Maybe you just never will. How could you even try to?âÂ
That hurt you, the way he talked like you werenât even there. Like you werenât in tears on the other side of the kitchen island. Like you hadnât been having this argument for an hour how, sunset drinking its way into the dusk.Â
This was the part of Jason that hurt you, the coarse side that snarled and growled at you like he was an injured dog. The side that looked at you with those striking green eyes narrowed into slits, who spat words like heâd never seen you before.
âI do understand Jason.â I you sigh. âYou want to protect this city, you want to change Gotham, but donât you dare tell me what I know or donât, when Iâm asking you to just be home more. Is it really that hard to protect the city and go out for a date?â You sigh, heart beginning to falter under the scrutiny of his gaze. âI know you canât always be there. Neither can I, but please,â you say, folding your arms across your chest. âPlease be there for me.â
âI am.â He groans back out, making a flicker of irritation spark in you.Â
âNot youâre not.â You counter. âYou leave dates, you leave dinners, you donât come home some nights. No warning, no text, no notice.â You snap back. âBeing there for me is being at those dinners, going on those dates, coming home, spending time in bed with me.â You snap. "it's not cold sheets, cold food, cold feet on date nights. Step up."
He throws his hands up in the air, teeth clenched. "Can't you see I'm trying to save the city? trying to stop it from eating itself from the inside? You know its corrupted, you know about the violence. Hell, you got shot." he snaps back. His fists are tightly clenched by his side, eyes burning into yours. You stare back at him defiantly, and it makes the frustration in him rise.
He knows he's not good at words, knows that he's rough around the edges. The voice in his head tells him that when he sits up at night, when he finally comes home. His head leans back against the headboard whole you sleep peacefully beside him, rolled completely onto your side. His fingers twist in the sheets, as it speaks at him, tells him that he's not good enough to be with you. That the city isn't safe enough, that he needs to make it safer. He wasnât the safest out of Batman's gang of protegees. He had a hit list that had started while he was just a young teenager and continued to have names added every other week. He'd been shot at, stabbed, thrown into and off of buildings, and that was something he was fine with. that was his job, his burden.
But when you got shot, that's when life really had caught up with him. It was like he had been living his life in slow motion up until that point, until it all rushed forward like a wave on double speed. He hadn't erven been there, halfway across town with Nightwing on some stakeout when he got the call. Dick had let him go without a word, merely watching him speed away on his bike before calling in backup from the cave to replace him. He didn't care that Bruce would get mad at him for abandoning his post, he could go to hell. What he cared about was you, and the fact that he hadn't been able to protect you, been able to stop it from happening. He heard about it only when the hospital called him, informing him that you were being prepped for surgery immediately.
How bad was it? Was it just one shot? Did it go cleanly through? Where were you hit? What calibre? What make? What model? Where did it take place?
Those were all questions that Red Hood might have been allowed to ask if he had worn the mask and marched through the emergency department, but he couldnât do that. If he did it would be a giant target on your back, associating you with his vigilante life in the most obvious way possible. Instead, he had to race through the doors breathless as Jason Todd, the worried boyfriend who had to be held back by security trying to get to your ward.
 You had of course recovered, learnt to walk again on the leg that caught a stray bullet from a gang shoot out in Lower Gotham. It had been worryingly close to your artery, but you had pulled through. Jason couldnât deny the fact that his status as a Wayne kid helped your care and the way the hospital aided your recovery. With a harsh word, Jason could have any of their licenses revoked.
That's why Jason did it. To make sure that the fear that gripped his heart that night never had the chance to wrangle him like that again. He'd fight night after night and come home with a string of broken and bloodied knuckles if it meant that you would be okay. It's all he can think about as he stares you down in the kitchen, watching your jaw twitch.
"Don't you dare use the fact that I got shot, against me." you seethe, hand coming up to point at him. "That wasnât my fault, and it could have happened to anyone in the town, it's Gotham, Jason." you bite back, and he throws his hands up.
"That's exactly the problem! It's Gotham." he shouts. "You can get shot, or stabbed, or killed. Anyone can. one day you're here, the next you ain't. You really want to go out there, sweetheart? You got shot and you want to tell me not to clean the streets up? The sheets are cold? Well, they'd be a lot colder if you were dead." he spits back, and you are too stunned to say anything. You shake your head, a look of realisation coming over you.
"Oh my god," you breathe out. "you're just like Bruce. Youâre no better."
That makes something in his freeze, halting all of his movements and shutting down his train of thought. You see it, see the way his bright green eyes widen and his head tilts slightly, making the white tuft in his hair flop over his eyes as you continue. "You're so obsessed with cleaning up the city. So obsessed with fighting out there that you can't give it up even for a second. You both can't. You criticize the man, tore him apart for his neglect just to do the exact same god damn thing.â Tears begin to prick your eyes in helplessness, lump building in your throat.
"You canât see yourself out of that stupid helmet." you say, choking up as the tears clog your vision. "When was the last time that you read?" you ask, sniffling. "When was the last time you did a hobby, or rode your bike as a civilian? When's the last time we went on a date or held hands, or went to the park, or the library or anywhere?" you yell at him, hand coming to claw at your heart.
"When was the last time you were Jason?" you whisper softly. "Because right now, I feel like Jason Todd has died for a second time." you choke out. "Except this time, it wasnât Joker who killed him."
You wipe your eyes with your sleeve while you leave him stunned, pushing past him to go into your bedroom. When the door slams harshly it snaps him out of the stupor he had found himself in, body swivelling on his heel immediately to follow you.
 You didn't respond to his soft knocking at the door, or his calls. You didnât accept the apologies he murmured into the wood, didn't bother to listen to his promises or ways that he swore he could make it better. It was only when he began knocking desperately, worrying building, that you swung it open violently.
Your face is a mess, sticky with tears and chin wet. Your breath comes out in small hiccups as you try to collect yourself, still mid sob as you shout at him. "Couch." you seethe, your puffy eyes glaring at him with a hurt filled dagger before the door slammed in his face. He sighed, forehead against the wood before pushing off the door frame with a click of his tongue. He plops down onto the living room couch with a groan, legs thrown over the side to try and accommodate for his size. He raises an arm to cover his eyes, other arm grabbing a couch cushion and bringing it to his chest.
"You're just like Bruce, no better." rattled around in his skull, making him chew at his lip. He didnât like that. He didnât like being compared to Bruce, even if he respected the man at times. He had come back, intending to be everything for others that Bruce had failed to be for him. Yet according to you, he was walking the same steps the man before him had traced.
Was he really no better than Bruce?
He groans and removes his arm from his eyes. He casts them over to the turned off TV, catching the sight of a much younger Robin peering back at him. With a smile the boy took off the domino mask and revealed the childish figure that was young Jason Todd. He raises a hand to his face as well, mirroring what he had just seen the reflection do. Except when he pulled his hand away, studying the digits instead of the TV screen, he could still see the remnants of the Hood he failed to leave at the door.
#messenger of babel#angstober 2024#day 25#fanfic#angstober24#angstober#angst#dc comics#dc fanfic#dc x reader#dc#jason todd x you#jason todd#jason todd angst#jason todd x reader#dc robin#red hood#red hood dc#red hood x reader angst#red hood x you#red hood angst#red hood x reader#dc jason todd#jason todd dc#dc red hood#jason peter todd#the red hood
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Change My Mind [3]
Pairing: BTS x reader
SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.
Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.
Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor
Words: 8.8k
ao3 is down so I'll update it first here. Chapter got delayed since this wasn't originally part of the roster. its currently 1am so there will be mistakes I missed but that's for future Winter's problem.
edit: please comment if you want to be added to the tag list :DD
<<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>>
__________
For a guy with his heart on his sleeves and his emotions displayed so loudly on his face like neon signs with gigantic arrows, Taehyung is an enigma.
It didnât help that he had experience in acting, if anything it made it harder to understand him.
One moment he's supportive of your quest for a perfect husband then another, he's raging with a jealousy even the power of the thousand burning suns couldn't replicate. Even when Guwon has long disappeared, Taehyung didn't stop from hanging off of your arm when the three of you had entered your home.Â
In the short time they had stayed over, he made sure he was somehow close to you or having you within his sight while Jimin returned to being the sweet boy he had always presented himself as but the glint of something dark in his eyes never disappeared.
But it didn't make any sense. All of their behaviors, even Jimin, is confusing.
Taehyung had introduced a date to the group before, and had hooked up with a few people from the after-parties if the othersâ words were anything to go by. Jimin is the same, although he took every chance to flirt with you at any time and everywhere, you always thought it was him being his playful self. But after last night?
You don't know.
And you hate not knowing.
To find out that Jin still liked you was shocking already, then comes this new realizationâalong with the impacts of Jungkookâs confessionâto knock you off of your feet. You thought he had moved on like he had said years before, but last night's conversation had told you otherwise.
âThat's the tenth time I've heard you sigh just this hour alone and we're only drinking coffee, whatâs wrong?â
Your head shot up to meet the concerned gaze of the oldest make-up artist. Jihae is one of the original staff back from 2013, the woman who had picked you up when you tripped in front of the BigHit building crying with your bag spilled out, having been given a low grade in one of your subjects.Â
They were lacking in staff back then, urgently searching for another body to help with the debut look and when she saw your cosmetic bag, she tugged you inside and told you to agree with whatever they were going to ask.Â
Stunned, you followed the woman without question.
A month later, you dropped out of the nursing course your mother had insisted you take and pursued cosmetology.
Many times have you looked back at the memory and grimaced. It could've gone wrong, she might've been leading you into a trafficking ring but nonetheless, you're glad you had accepted it.
All because Jihae had seen you with mascara-stained tears and somehow deemed you skilled enough for the job. Up until today, you still wonder what she had seen in an emotional teenager who had comically tripped face-first in the companyâs front yard, mascara running down her face and thought: âSheâd be a good additionâ.Â
Whatever it is, you're thankful.Â
âHey, you still with us?â
Snapping out of your trance, you wearily smiled at her. âYes I am, unnie. Just frustrated about something...â
At this, multiple heads turned to you, their stares a varying mix of curiosity and teasing. Suddenly reminded of the group lunch Jihae had proposed that day, a bonding exercise for the entire make-up artists roster, for better teamwork, she had said and internally facepalmed. You had forgotten that it wasn't just your friends sitting on the table with you and you had just aired your problem out in the open for them to hear.
Fuck Kim Taehyung and his confusing attitude. You should beat his ass next time you see him for being the catalyst to the dilemma haunting your mind.
Leaning closer to you, Nabiâanother friend of yoursâcrossed her arms and flashed a shit-eating grin.
âIs it boy problems?â
Instantly, the table explodes into chatters, all of their questions drowning each other.
âWhich one of them?â
âDid someone from Bangtan confess to you, unnie?â
âIs it Hoseok? Please say it is! I have a bet with someone from the styling department.â
âWas it Taehyung? I always thought he had a crush on you for a whiââ
âIt's not any of them, please we're just friends.â You interjected before they dig further and find truth in their questions. âIt's a different guy I've had two dates with.â
Never had you sounded more unsure of yourself until now and you had wished nobody had noticed. But one look around the table says differently. Your friendsâ eyes glinted, all of them telling you that this discussion was far from over and you find yourself already dreading opening the groupchat once you're home. But unlike them, someone wasn't satisfied with your answer and crossed her arms from the other end of the table.
âWhy so dismissive, unnie? We're all friends here, no need to be so defensive.â
Immediately, the ones closest to her snapped their heads at her with a scandalized look. Alexa was a new recruit, A half-Korean and half-Chinese who lived in the States for a better half of her life, had just joined the week before the first leg when one of the crew went into labor and had recommended her cousin as her last minute replacement until she could return.
In the short time she had been in the company, there had been whispers and none of them were positive. Rumors of an unhealthy obsession hidden beneath the skillfully applied make-up that granted her a younger and cuter appearance, hushed stories of their encounters where she'd reveal her soulmate markâinked initials, and written on her wrist is a K.S.J, something she boasted around with a smug look, as if to imply something you refuse to entertain.
It was absurd.Â
Seokjin was untethered, if he got a soulmate mark out in the open, he would've screamed it on top of the world. Delighted and in cloud nine at the thought of having someone destined for him. Not to mention, it meant that he didn't need to go through any of the shit you've gone through, going through dates after dates looking for someone better to settle down with only to be met with constant disappointment at the end of the day.
(You'd also be the first to know. He would've ran to you and asked if you manifested a mark too, but for your sanity, you pushed the thought at the back of your head as soon as it came.)
To say, to imply that Seokjinâs soulmate is the kid on the side of the table, it almost made you grimace.
âHey Alexa, I know you're just new and a foreigner but that doesn't mean we'd let you disrespect your seniors!â Minhyuk, someone who had quickly wormed into your friend group last year, had jumped to your defense.
Alexa scoffed. âI'm just saying, no need to be so secretive, unnie. Everyone in this table knows how close Bangtan is to you. Everyone is wondering if you've at least dated one of them.â
âHey Alexa, that's a bitâŚâ
âWhy are you guys looking at me like that? I'm just saying what you're all thinking,â She looks back at you. âI've seen how they look at you, surely you've at least had a fling with someone.â
Your brows shot up, incredulous and shocked by her audacity but before you could bite back, Minhyuk stood abruptly, face darkened with pure unadulterated anger.
âOh thisââ Nabi and you were quick to tug him back down to sit.Â
At the commotion, everyone in the cafeteria shifted their attention to your table, inquisitive and curious of what might've set off the resident social butterfly, someone who everyone knows the name of and has been at the end of his constant kindness.
Minhyuk is a passionate soul, especially towards his job and friends. Having been kicked out for being himself, he turned to the very skill that had his father screaming expletives at him. Recommended by Jihae, who had been visiting a nearby friend at the time and was passing by his street, had found him crying in the rain, outside the gate of his family house. She had taken him home and the rest was history.
There's never been a time when you've all hung out, five emptied bottles of Sojus later, where he wouldn't be crying, thankful for the chance your eldest had given him before turning to you, sobbing loudly and hugging you and the rest of the group in a tight grip. Heart full of gratefulness for his new found family.
So there was no shock that he had been the first one to jump at the first sign of aggression towards your group.
âEveryone is looking, hyuk. Let's calm down.â Nabi whispered to him, eyes cautious and Minhyuk grunted.
âShe's lucky we're in public, I would've torn her down for that comment.â
At the end of the table, Alexa scoffed, incredulous. âAre you seriously mad that I'm saying my opinion? Is it a crime to express their own opinion these days?â
âNot when it's as rude as yours.â
Jihae sighs. âCalm down the both of you. Remember that you're working right now.â
You didn't doubt that everyone in the company has speculated about your relationship with Bangtan. It's hard not to when the maknaes hang onto your words and comfortably play around with you, especially not when you have dinner at their dorm every other week so you didn't blame the newbie for being curious.
That's what you would've felt if she hadn't been going around planting ideas into people's heads that she might be Jinâs soulmate like the delusional slug she is.
You had half a mind to loosen your grip on Minhyuk and let him wipe the floor with her unnecessarily expensive work clothes.
Shrugging both your and Nabiâs arms from his, Minhyuk stands up again only to walk away from the table. Instantly, the rest of your group follows him as he marches through the gathered crowd in the cafeteria and in front of the closed elevator.
You trailed behind him, waiting for his eventual frustrated explosion as he always does after an encounter with Alexa since she was hired. Once you were all far enough, hidden away from the prying eyes of the public, he threw his head back and let out a loud, exasperated groan.
âThat girl I fucking swear!â He growled as combed his long hair back. âWhy did we even let her continue working after the tour?! We could've just found a better alternative, she's getting into my fucking nerves!â
Nabi sighed. âIt's not like we have a final say in this, hyuk. Whether you like it or not, we'll be stuck with her until Hyuna comes back.â
âGod,â He groaned. âYou should've let me hit her once! I'm so tired of hearing her bullshit! Surely, you've heard the lie she's spreading around right?!â
âLike Nabi has said, we can't do anything unless it starts to hurt the reputation of the idol. She's smart for not saying it outright and somehow containing it within the styling departments.â Jihae responds with a defeated shake of her head.
The answer didn't satisfy Minhyuk, who then turned to you with a pout and wide puppy eyes before promptly stomping over and taking both your hands in his.
âSurely you can pull some strings, noona? Tattle off to Namjoon hyung or Seokjin hyung, surely one of them would do something, right?â
You almost considered his suggestion. Alexa had been grating your gears ever since she arrived to replace Hyuna. You had excused her lack of cooperation with the team for being a newbie and clumsy mistakes of haphazardly leaving her items everywhere for the stress of the new environment she was suddenly put in. But for her to go around implying Seokjin is her soulmate is another can of worms you didn't even want to open.
The mere thought of her existing on the same floor as Seokjin invokes an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach.
But unfortunately, even if you had tattled to Namjoon about her, nothing would happen since it's not too drastic of an event to fire someone over for. It's also just not a good idea overall. The tour is set next Wednesday and while Alexa doesn't cooperate with most of the team, she unfortunately got the skill to back her up. Her skills nearly compensate for her rude personality.
Almost.
âThey won't fire someone over a small argument, Hyuk. Just suck it in until Hyuna returns.â
âWhich will be in December after Japan,â He mulls it over before shaking his head. âYeah no, I don't think I can tolerate her nasty ass that long.â
The elevator opensâJihae had called it the moment they've arrived, bless herâand everyone piles in. It was a quick ride, the stylists being on the floor below the cafeteria. In a flash the metal doors parts opened and you all walked out. But before you could follow your friends back into your department, your phone vibrated from your pocket.
Slowing down, you pulled the device out and looked at who's texting you.
           [13:02] Hobi: can ask you a favor            [13:02] Hobi: just an itsy bitsy favor đ¤đ¤            [13:02] Hobi: I promise it's harmlessđ
There's also a text from Guwon not too long ago. Something you missed while you were lost in your thoughts earlier.
           [12:30] Guwon: Eat your lunch soon!            [13:03] You: hi sorry late reply, I was having lunch with my co-workers, couldnât use my phone during.            [13:03] You: I hope your lunch was goodđ
You grimaced at how robotic your reply sounded before returning to Hoseok who had sent another text.
           [13:03] Hobi: don't leave me on seen please𢠠          [13:03] Hobi: noona noona noona noona noona            [13:04] You: hoba hoba hoba hoba hoba            [13:04] Hobi: YAY            [13:04] You: how can I help you?            [13:05] Hobi: can you deliver lunch to hyung?đ            [13:05] Hobi: I would do it myself but I'm currently helping Seokjin hyung and Namjoon with the dance            [13:06] Hobi: and we both know Yoongi hyung wouldn't eat on time if I do it            [13:06] Hobi: can you do it for me?𼺠           [13:06] You: sure, you guys still in the dance practice room?            [13:07] Hobi: ur a life saver            [13:07] Hobi: an angel in disguise            [13:07] Hobi: but yesđ            [13:08] Hobi: just knock on the door when you're heređ
âY/N?â Jihae asks and you look back up to see your group waiting for you.
âWho is it?â Nabi adds.
âBetter be news of Alexa getting fired. If not, I don't want to hear it.â Minhyuk says as he crosses his arms. You shook your head and he threw his hands up in frustration.
âGot asked to help with something but I'll be back in a moment.â
With a brief goodbye, you turned back to the elevator and directed yourself to the floor where the dance practice rooms are at.Â
The walking distance from the elevator is not too far from the dance room but seeing five familiar teenage boys speaking in hushed whispers and hitting each other's arms in front of the vending machine just a feet away from the door easily distracted you.
If they had been crowding around the machine, you would've thought they were fighting over the last snack but instead they were all facing the same direction as your destination.
Sneaking up to the five giants, you're slowly introduced to the dilemma they were hitting and pushing each other for.
âYou're the oldest, you should go and knock!â
âJust because I'm the oldest doesn't mean I should always be the first! Why are you even ordering me around?! Go ask Huening Kai instead!â
âWhy me? I can't talk in Korean, I-Iâm foreigner.â
âOh don't you pull that shit on us. How are you only a foreigner when it matters?!â
âWhat are we talking about?â
Three shrill screams pierced through the air as the five of them jumped back, awkwardly long bodies falling against and clutching onto each other for dear life, all of them huddling onto the next body for protection. But once they recognize you, Yeonjun immediately regains composure and breaks off from the cluster to stomp over to you with his bottom lip jut out as he dramatically latches onto your arm.
âNoonaa, why would you scare us like that?!â
When you first met Yeonjun, he was standing in front of the cafeteria bar in front of the exhausted cashier and the long irritated line of workers, peering up onto the menu before looking down to count his money. He looked like a little kid lost in the sea of busy adults, painfully alone and helpless as the hungry customers behind him began to complain loudly.
He had been holding up the line as he recounted his change once more, hoping he had miscounted and that he could afford what he was eyeing. Seeing his hopeful expression crumble into defeat was enough to make you approach him and buy him lunch.Â
Yoongi had teased you when he found you being trailed by another kid, saying you were collecting every doe eyed kid in the company and becoming their reliable older sister. Especially when his soulmates began to follow his footsteps.
âWhat were you guys doing? Fighting against who gets the last chip?â
Beomgyu then ran to wrap his arms around yours, the sweetest and most innocent smile plastered on his face as the two boys began to walk you forward, the destination? The dance studio.
âYou know that we love you right, noona?â
Why these kids are genuinely intimidated by your sweet Hoba is beyond you. The man screams and flinches at the smallest of bugs daring to exist two feet away from him. Still, you entertained them with a raise of an eyebrow and Yeonjun continued.
âOur favorite make-up noona, the greatest sister figure we have ever had, my savior and my salvation, our dearest creditââ
âOkay, what do you guys want?â
You all stopped in front of the dance room door. IDOL was blasting on the other side of the wall, the floor vibrating with the beat. Although muffled, you could pick up the sound of shoes squeaking against the floor and heavy footsteps accompanying the song.
âCould you pretty please knock on the door?â Beomgyu asks, pleading and also hopeful and the rest of his brothers chimed from behind you with their own versions of the request which ended up sounding like a bunch of warbled words.
âCouldn't you have done that yourselves?â
âBut they're busy and J-Hope sunbae is scary.â Taehyun quietly adds behind you.
âHoba? He's the sweetest though?â
âOkay, let's not lie to ourselves now,â Huening Kai shoots back before motioning to the door. âJust⌠knock and we'll handle it from there. We promise!â
âCross our hearts.â Taehyun says, drawing a cross over his chest. The other four follow.
Dance teacher Hoseok to you is a hoax. You've never been subjected to his intense scrutiny and harsh perfectionist side, always managing to slip past or only being able to meet him outside of the workplace where he'd be far relaxed and cheerful.Â
Sure there's been plenty of photographic and recorded evidence posted in the group chat but you still find it hard to believe he's more frightening than the bugs that scare him off the room.
âHe's not that scary, guys.â
Taehyun scoffs. âEasy for you to say.â
âCrush privileges.â Soobin quietly adds.
âWhatââ
The door swings open before you could ask what he meant and Jungkook steps out of the room.Â
In a span of a second, the memories of his drunken confession flashed before your eyes. From the moment he had entered your home with bags of snacks to the way his voice had sounded, hushed and shaky, when he asked you for a kiss.
Seeing him again outside the concert where Namjoon and Yoongi had made sure there were no contacts between the two of you, evoked a weird sense of longing within you. Having absolutely no contact with Jungkook for two days had you missing and recollecting your past memories with him. In the short amount of time you've been away, you wondered about many things.
From something as headache-inducing variations of hows and whys questioning his attraction to you to something more simple and short like âhow is he feeling right now?â.
It was a dumb question with an obvious answer yet you wanted to know. Curiosity and anxiety clawing at your chest.Â
Is your friendship still okay?Â
Did rejecting someone this time finally ruin your entire dynamic with the group?Â
Should you have chosen someone like your sister had told you to do?Â
They have plagued your mind and haunted you in your waking days yet the moment you finally see him, your mouth dries up and your voice dies in your throat.
But before you could even muster the courage to talk to him, he turned his attention to the boys who had retreated behind you the moment the door opened and greeted them with a short bow before walking away, completely ignoring you. Pain blooms in your chest like a thorned vine wrapping and strangling your heart tighter and tighter as you watch his back disappear around the corner.
âDid sunbae just ignore noona?â
âIs that even possible?â
âI didn't hallucinate that, right?â
âNoona, are you okay?â Soobinâs concerned voice, soft and cautious, brings you back to reality and you turn to them, a precariously built smile on your face.
âWhy wouldnât I?â
The five shared a look as you stepped into the studio, exposing you to the two figures laid on the floor, heaving and panting. The main topics of your thoughts were sitting at the far corner next to the black plastic table while Hoseok stood in the middle of the room, unaffected by whatever had happened and was chugging the water from the small bottle in hand.
As if he had grown a sixth sense for you, he suddenly spun around, a wide grin brightening his stern face.
âNoona!â
At this, the two men on the floor perks up. Namjoon merely waves before promptly dropping back down, Jimin and Taehyung only smiled at you, looking spent from whatever routine Hoseok had them do before turning to the two tallest. Seokjin had pushed himself up to stand and approach the black plastic table from the other end of the room where a dozen take outs were.
As Hoseok approached you, his gaze then found the cluster of five heads peeking through the sides of the entrance and laughed.
âYouâve got five ducklings following you, noona, didn't know you started collecting more after our maknaes.â He jokes before turning to the teens and waving them over. The group then spread to occupy the space in the doorway and bowed. âWhat can I do for you guys?â
They suddenly disappear behind the wall but you hear them hitting each other and their whisper-shouts, it took a long while before Soobin was pushed out of the shadow and forced to talk to their sunbae. The painfully shy teen shuffles over, shoulders folded forward and taking the smallest of steps forward before stuttering a bow.
A wide smile brightens Hoseok's face, endeared by the boyâs overly formal actions.
âH-Hi sunbae.â
âHello, Soobinie.â
âWe-we we're just wondering if we-we could watch you guys? Practicing dancing I meanâNot that you sunbaes need it cause you're professionals!âI mean of course you still need to practice to be better at dancing andâwait noââ
âYah Soobin, stop embarrassing us like this!â Yeonjun scolds and immediately, the boy almost broke his neck with how face he looked over his shoulder.
âThen go do it yourself!â
âWe don't mind, as long as you guys stay in a corner like good kids then we'll all be good!â Hoseok cuts in before an argument ensues.
There's a tap on your shoulder and you look over to see Seokjin standing behind you, a gentle smile playing on his plush lips, both hands hidden behind him.
There's an awkwardness that hung in the air as you both gazed into each other's eyes before he cleared his throat and began.
âHave you eaten yet?â
âYes.â You lie. Jin caught it.
Turning to face him fully, he then takes one of your hands and forces your fingers to hold the neatly folded top of a paper takeout bag.
âI've packed Yoongiâs portion here as well as an extra for you.â
âYou didn't need to, I already ate.â
âI even had them order some soft tofu soup, you were craving it last week, right?â
It was sweet being loved so selflessly by him. It tasted like the sweetest nectar from the garden of Eden with a foul aftertaste once your mind reminded you of your sins against the man and the thorned tendrils of guilt coiled tighter around your chest, its sourness easily overlapping the sweetness of his love.
After Jungkook pretending you didn't exist earlier, having Jin, someone who you didn't even know still admired you all these years while you had messed around with many faces and came to work with some of their marks on your skin, expressing his care had you almost bursting at the seams.Â
It enrages you thinking about Alexa going around spreading her bullshit spiel about being Jinâs soulmate. As if she deserved a morsel of his attention.
Nobody deserves Seokjin, not even you.
âThank you Jinnie, but I already ate.â You then remembered your promise to return to your friends soon. âAnd Jihae is expecting me back immediately.â
âCoffee and toast is not lunch.â He deadpans as he takes your hand and forces it to close around the pack. âJust eat it with Yoongi, he'd be happy to be able to eat with someone and Iâll handle Jihae noona.â
âHow the hell did you know what I had for lunch?â
Shock crossed over his face and he brought a hand over his mouth. âI was right? I just had a hunch on what you ate.â
âThatâs a bit creepy, old man.â
âMaybe itâs a soulmate mark manifesting.â He shrugs but you doubt he meant it in a joking way.
âYouâre way past the age, give it up hyung.âÂ
You both turned to the door at Jungkookâs voice. Like earlier, he had strode in without acknowledging your presence, something Seokjin had noticed immediately. His eyes slid to the five boys tentatively pushing each other to the empty corner of the studio before looking back at their youngest.
âHow could you insult me like this? I fed you with my hands, you should be addressing me formally with a full 90° bow!âÂ
âI shouldâve bitten your hands at least once back then.â Jungkook jokingly muses.
Before you could witness their banter explode, thereâs a tug on your shirt and you spun around to face Hoseok who had nudged his head to the door. Jin had already marched towards the maknae before you could even thank him so you left.
Once you were both outside the studio, Hoseok closed the door behind and hugged you.
âWh-what is this?â
âA thank you hug for being the sacrifice and feeding the grumpy dragon instead.â He says with a laugh but you knew what he was trying to do.Â
âIâm fine, Hoba. I didnât expect us to be buddy buddy again after what happened.â
He sighed.
âHe still shouldnât have done that. Iâm sure Seokjin hyung will talk to him about it later.â
Stepping back, you shook your head. âNo need, I understand why heâs acting like that.â
His eyes regarded your face for a moment before pulling you back in for a hug and nuzzling his head on top of yours. âYou donât have to defend him noona, heâs acting like a child. It's our duty as his hyungs to fix that up.â
âPlease donât. It feels like youâre taking sides, he might think it's unfair.â
He laughs. âAre you kidding? âCause from what Iâm seeing, heâs being a petulant child. He should handle the rejection with more grace when it's his fault heâs in this predicament. You know Seokjin hyung warned him, right?â
âHe told me when he and Tae took him home.â
âThen you should know better than defend him.â You opened your mouth to refute but he pressed a finger to your lips. âDon't start. He's not the same sixteen years old we had to raise back then, he needs correcting.â
With two hands on your shoulders, he then spun you around and began to push you towards the elevator, leaving no room for an argument.Â
Once he had led you back to the locomotive, he briefly stepped in to push the correct button for the production floor and stepped back and waved as the elevator wall slowly closed to a shut.
âNow go feed hyung and yourself before you go back to work. Thank you again noona and see you later.
âSpecial delivery for a grumpy hairless cat!â
A beat.
Then came a grumbled: âCome in.â
Punching the proper strings of numbers on the door code, you open the door to the genius lab to find Yoongi sitting in front of his computer, one ear off of his headphones as he goes back to a specific second again and again.
Situating yourself on the couch next to the door, you place the paper bag on the coffee table and slowly unload all its contents, hoping its smell is enough to deter him from his work just for a second.
Taking one of the containers, you open it to see bulgogi generously sprinkled on top of rice. The savory smell of the dish wafting out almost immediately, and Yoongi visibly perks up from his table; if perking up meant him temporarily stopping his incessant clicking and head tilting a little to the side.
âIs it all bulgogi?â
Placing down the container, you opened the other one to reveal the same dish except this time with fried rice.
âYeah, you want fried rice or no?â
âWhatever you like less.â He grumbled as he returned to his work.
âThat's not a proper answer.â
âJust take whatever you want, I like either.â He muttered.
Staring at the food on the table, you found yourself at a crossroads. The fried rice looks more appetizing than the plain white rice on the other container but you've had enough sodium for the week, having challenged Taehyung, Jimin and Jin to who can eat more ramyeon in one sitting the day before the concert.
But today just doesn't feel like a plain rice type of day.Â
But fried rice isn't healthy.
âJust choose please, I don't know what I want either.â You groaned out, frustrated.
With a grunt, the man took off his headphones and turned to face you before maneuvering himself closer to the table and picking up the container with the plain rice.
âStop thinking so much about what is healthy or not,â He remarked as he took a pair of chopsticks from the paper bag. âI could hear your thoughts even with my headphones on and my back turned.â
âThen why tell me to choose if you already knew?â
Yoongi only shrugged as he took his first bite, prompting you to take yours. He seems to mull over something as he chews, staring at the food on the table for a while before placing the container down and leaving the room without a word.
You had learned not to question his confusing actions throughout the years, even then you couldn't help but be bewildered.
When he returned, he was carrying two drinks in one hand. Sprite and Kombucha. Settling back on his chair, he placed down the bottle of Kombucha in front of him before opening the can of sprite and placing it in front of you.
âI don't have any straws on me so you'll have to just chug it.â
People don't usually notice it but you think Jin and Yoongi are more similar in how they show their affections, just in different volumes. Seokjinâs care is always voiced out, always asking whether you want something or not and offering to do or make it for you while Yoongi just somehow always knows what you want and does it wordlessly. Both of them are always willing to provide.
If you had asked them for something as ludicrous as fried cotton candy with melted cheese on top, Jin would complain and express his disgust openly, ranting about the strenuous process while holding the handle of the pan and a spatula in the other while Yoongi would cook it without questioning your sanity.
Either way, it never fails to make your chest warm.
âThank you, Yoongs.â
He suddenly takes a huge bite, bringing the container close to his face before humming out his response, easily flustered as ever.
You both eat your food in silence. With years of friendship under your belt, you have learned to enjoy the serenity Yoongi brings. It had been rough at the start, his quietness matched with his stoic expression had often led to misunderstandings where you often thought he thinks of you badly for being close to his brothers, especially after Jinâs confession.
He had confronted you once he heard it from Namjoonâwho had immediately tattled onto his hyung after you had told him not to tell anyoneâ, saying he simply had problems expressing himself. You could remember how his hands, despite being entangled with each other, shook with his voice, could recall how he had forced himself to hold eye contact with you when he always had difficulties in holding one.
It was thoughtful and that was the first time you had felt the tingles of warmth in your chest. Teenage you had her feet swept off by a stuttering mess of a guy with eye contact issues.
Despite Jin being the first in the group to confess, Yoongi was the first to touch your heart.
âWhy are you looking at me like that?â
You tilt your head. âLike what?â
A conflict of emotion crossed his eyes as he struggled to find the words but before he could, your phone vibrated from your pocket.
           [13:54] Guwon: I'm at the cafe close to your building
You almost choked on your spit, surprised by his message and Yoongi hurriedly put his food down to pat your back. His office was on the other side of the city, why would he drive so far just to get some coffee with you during work days?Â
Love, a voice answers and you immediately waved it off.
There was no way he had fallen in love with you in such a short time. You have been on two dates with him yet he hadn't asked you to be his girlfriend when there's been multiple times throughout those days and nights he had the chance to do so.
During nights where you'd restlessly toss around on your bed, you found yourself facing one more problem outside of your friends.
You didn't notice when it started when Guwon began to make your stomach churn and it bothers you to the nines at how you were being suspicious of him.
Guwon is a genuinely nice guy with a legit and grand background from what you learned throughout the short time you've been hanging out, his case stories of helping out women stuck in abusive relationships and bringing justice to those the law has failed once proven true when you've typed his name on Naver. The man didn't deserve the doubt twisting in your stomach nor the aversion you were slowly gaining towards him.
Your conflicting feelings surrounding your friends' confessing and odd behaviors shouldn't be affecting your relationship with the man you will marry at some point yet it ended up doing so.
There was something foul and bitter simmering in your guts these days whenever you force yourself to think about him during your time. It burns like bile and tasted like betrayal, almost like unfaithfulness; you try not to think hard on why you feel this way but it's hard not to when Jimin and Taehyung's jealousy keeps flashing behind your eyelids with every blink.
           [13:55] You: Oh wow, which one?            [13:55] Guwon: The one on the left side, Areum Cafe.            [13:55] Guwon: Are you free to get a cup of coffee with me?            [13:56] Guwon: Sorry for springing this up on you            [13:55] Guwon: I missed youđ
âWho is it?â
âIt's Guwon,â You say, scratching your head. âHe says he's at the cafe down the road and wants to meet up.â
Yoongi placed down his food and stared at you, long and hard. Cat-like eyes narrowed and observing as he leaned back on his chair. You feel his eyes regard your body language before sighing.
âI assume you need help getting out? I'm not as⌠bold as the younger ones but I think I can help⌠somehowâ
His appearance would surely help tamper down the discomfort that had bloomed with the recent revelations. Yoongi is intimidating as he is caring, having him next to you would ensure you a shorter time spent with the man, as well as prohibit him from pulling another surprise kiss on you.
But why are you so uncomfortable spending time with Guwon anyways?
You didn't have any problems before, even wanted to sleep with him the night prior so why now?
âHowâd you know I need help?â
âYou looked like your mother just told you to come to another date.â
Immediately, you ironed out the frown you didn't realize had marred your face.Â
âI thought you would've been delighted you've finally met your match?â
âI-I am.â
Yoongi clicks his tongue, the sound echoing louder in the silence of the room. âTry again. A little more sure this time.â
You sighed and relented, knowing the man wouldn't let you take a step out of the door if you lied to him again.
âEverything just started feeling wrong for some reason.â
He raised an eyebrow at that, eyes widening with surprise. âHow so?â
âYou know, when Jimin and Taehyung came over last night to make sure I got home safe, they were acting strange towards Guwon.â When he made no move to respond, you continued. âWhen Guwon suddenly kissed me, Taehyung looked⌠scary. Jimin too, if you can believe it.â
âI actually do.â
âWhat do you mean by that?â
Yoongi goes silent again, mulling over something as his gaze finally met yours for the first time that day. âFor someone so perceptive, you're a bit oblivious.â
âWhat is it?â
âI won't elaborate, I'll let you realize things on your own.â
You groaned, facepalming because ain't no way Yoongi just added more fuel to the forest fire that is your thoughts. The man doesnât even look aware of what his words had done, reaching over and innocently sipping on his kombucha once more.
âBack to what you were saying, why do you think it felt wrong to see Guwon?â
With his calm voice and the deafening silence of the room, you found yourself comparing Yoongi, who even has his hands folded over his crossed jean-clad legs, to a therapist and laughed.
âDidnât know I was due for a therapy session when I dropped off your lunch.â
âWell I did, so deal with it,â He placed down his bottle. âDo you need my help or not?â
âIs breathing important? Obviously yes.â
He nods and stands, but not before saying, âI hope you know this conversation is far from over.â
While his presence had given you more peace of mind, leaving the BigHit building with Yoongiâwho had forgone his usual outdoor style of beanies and big prescription glasses matched with a black mask in order to appear more intimidating, claiming the beanie softens his edges, something you playfully rolled your eyes atâstill felt like walking into your doom.
The moment he steps out of the building, suddenly everyone's eyes are on him. The cool stoicness surrounding him commanded attention and the people listened without complaint, not when Yoongi looked like every highschool teenager's bad boy wet dreams.
Strolling into the cafe is easier with Yoongi trailing behind you like a guard dog; or in his case, a guard panther.
There's something about having the rapper, who has never shown a hint of romantic attraction to you in all your years being their friend, accompanying you to meet the man you might marry once the discomfort born from conflicting feelings subsides. It makes your heart jittery and your stomach twisting uncomfortably, the nerves from meeting Guwon only adding fuel to the fire.
It felt improper somehow, as if you were breaking an invisible rule you're yet to uncover from the depths of your soul.
The tempting aroma of freshly baked buttery goods and roasted coffee beans greeted you the moment Yoongi had pushed the door open for the both of you. In the controlled volume of mixed chatters from different tables, a calm acoustic instrumental flies through the air and you almost forgot what you came here for.Â
It didn't take long for you to find Guwon sitting on the table farthest from the entrance, secluded and away from the wide glass pane windows. When the door had opened with a chime, the man had raised his head from his phone and met your eyes. You try not to linger on how his expression stiffened when he realized you had Yoongi in tow before a smile wipes it away.
âYou see him?â Yoongiâs voice grumbled from behind and you nod. Guwon stands, the sound of the chair scraping against the floor catching his attention. âThat him?â
âYeah, I don't think he's happy I brought you with me.â
He chuckled lightly. âGood.â
Guwon met you both halfway, arms opened wide to greet you with a hug and you let him. When you pull away, his hand casually falls to your waist and your skin scrawls.Â
Immediately, Yoongiâs eyes drop to look at it but before any hint of emotion breaks onto his face, his cool eyes are already back on your suitorâs face.
âWhich one of your kids am I given the pleasure of meeting this time?â Guwon asks before offering his free hand to Yoongi who had taken it with a carefully crafted blank expression and unrelenting stare.
Seeing him remain in eye contact with Guwon surprises you. The man, even after your years of being friends, had never held eye contact for longer than five seconds outside the time he had opened up to you about his struggle with expressing himself.
It made you curious. Why is he provoking him? Is he testing Guwon?
âI'm not one of her kids, I'm actually older than her. Min Yoongi.â
âYoo Guwon, a pleasure to meet you.â
Even when both their hands had long pulled away from each other, their eyes lingered longer. Challenging on Guwon's part, and taunting on Yoongi's as he stared back, completely unfazed.
Seeing them silently engage in a dick measuring contest, something you didnât expect Yoongi to ever partake in since he had been loud in his distaste for his own gender, irked you. The tightening grip on your waist didn't help, wanting nothing but to slap it off if it wasn't for your promise to your mother to not fuck this up.
âIf you don't tell them what you're uncomfortable with, then they'll continue on doing it. The other guys out there aren't like us who'd feel guilty if we knew, I fear that they might take advantage of you instead, noona.â Hobiâs voice echoes in your mind.
Sorry Hoba, I'm trying to make this work. But if this behavior continues, then I'll listen to you.
âI thought you idols are often more busy than the average folk?â
Yoongi sucks air through his teeth before responding. âWe were in the middle of a fitting prior. I hope you don't mind me keeping watch, can't have our staff getting distracted by heartthrobs like you.â
Guwon laughed, a little louder than usual.
âShe's been telling you guys about me?â
âAll the good things, don't worry.â He then turns to you, eyes searching your face for a hint of extreme discomfort before continuing. âI'll go order the others some food.â
Sparing one last nod of his head at the man next to you, Yoongi then turns towards the counter to order. The moment he was out of earshot, dread drops onto your stomach like an anvil and you looked up at the Guwon whose eyes were already trained onto yours, a lazy smile stretched on his lips.
âI assume youâll be needed back once heâs done?â
â Yeah, Iâm sorry it's just⌠Wrong timing.â
He waves you off. âNonsense, itâs my fault for bringing you out of your work. They wonât fine you for this, right?â
âI went with one of my bosses, of course they wonât.â
His eyes studied your face for a moment, searching. For what? You donât want to know. When he had found whatever it was, his face melts into a softer, more mellow expression and your heart clenches. The outpouring of awe in his eyes felt heavy and thick, it clogs up your throat and weighs your already strained form.
âI missed you.â He whispers with the sweetest of voices. âDid you miss me?â
âI-I do, kept thinking about you...â
The lie weighted like lead on your tongue and burned like acid. Compared to the genuineness practically dripping from his lips, your words fall short in your ears. With the way his softened expression crumpled into a frown, you knew he also noticed the hesitance in your voice.
âWhatâs wrong?â
âIâm sorry. With the tour being so close and more sponsorship offers coming in, it got a bit stressful than usual.â
When his arms reach around your shoulders and pull you flush to his chest, you will yourself not to tense. You were both hugging in the middle of the coffee shop and you could feel the nearby patronsâ stare pressing onto your body, judging and unpleasant. Embarrassment burns your cheeks and the desire to push him away grows.
Even Jimin and Taehyung doesnât dare to get affectionate in public, none of your friends ever did anything more than a hand on your shoulder to lead you to the correct direction or a pat on the back when Jungkook had more sleep and food ingested, and was bouncing off the walls and you just happen to be assigned to him.
You wanted nothing more but to tell him to back off but the words got stuck in your throat.Â
âJust a tip, she doesnât like PDA so maybe step away?â
Immediately, Guwon scrambles off of you.Â
âIâm sorry, I didnât know.â Guwon says, his hand falling from your shoulder and down to your arm. You shivered.
A firm and familiar hand lands on your shoulder before Yoongi tugs you back to stand next to him. Thereâs a set in jaw as his eyes narrowed down at Guwon, the hand replacing Guwon on your arm is tense and rigid but not enough to hurt.Â
You sensed that he had a lot to say once you were out of sight, all of them expressing his distaste for the man youâre set to eventually marry. Even when you were all standing there, you could already imagine the curses and nitpicked details pouring out of his lips.
âWeâll be going back now,â Yoongi says to Guwon, voice tight as if holding back his emotions as he curtly bowed. âOur leader is already demanding us to come back so weâll have to cut this meeting short. It was nice meeting you.â
Guwon looked incredulous at the turn of events, eyes shuttering before he nodded in understanding and turned to flash a smile at you.
âMessage me when youâre home, alright?â
Yoongi didnât even linger long enough for you to respond, already walking away. By the time you turned to look at him, he was three gaits away from leaving the coffee shop. With a dip of your head, you sprint to follow closely behind the man now pushing through the door.Â
You could understand the reason for his irritation, always the most protective out of the bunch and the one with the most to say about men. To see your closest female friend be made uncomfortable by her suitor, a stranger in his eyes, there was no doubt heâd be livid.
But why does he have to walk so fast?!Â
Youâre not physically built to match his pace, he takes one step and you have to do three. It was infuriating but you couldnât exactly scream at him to slow down in public, catching the attention of other people would only create more problems than you both could take on.
He eventually slows down to a halt in front of the double glass doors of the BigHit building and you were able to finally catch up to him. In the lobby, you both calmly approached the elevator, a complete juxtaposition of how hasty you two were not a moment before.Â
But the moment the metal doors of the elevator shuts, isolating you and Yoongi from the rest, he begins.
âI donât like him.â
It was stupid but you wanted to know what specific trait he had found irksome.
(Deep down, you knew you were finding a reason to stop, to let go of Guwon and stop this stupid charade.)
âHe didnât even notice you were uncomfortable earlier. When you told us that heâs good, I thought heâd be decent, not top grade bare minimum.â
âH-He was actually good, believe it or not.â
âSo he's a pretentious prick?â
You sighed. âH-He justââ
âHyung wouldn't approve.â Yoongi cuts in, his hardened eyes now piercing through yours, almost taunting you to bite back. âNot just him, everyone wouldn't. You'd break poor Jiminieâs heart if you continued seeing him once he found out how he acted today.â
You knew he was guilt tripping you and it was working. But you swore Guwon was better than the others, he had treated you with a gentleness and care your friends had shown yet something had changed after that night.Â
Was Taehyung's clinginess, their presence in general, been the catalyst?
Had he felt threatened by them showing up? You had established early on that they're your boss and your mother would've mentioned your relationship with the boys in passing at least, so why would he feel threatened by them?
âI know what you're thinking but it doesn't work like that.â His voice, now softer than it had been earlier, pierces through the trance youâve submerged into. âEven if you had said youâre only friends with them, it's human nature for us to still feel intimidated even if we're just friends.â
âThat's dumb.â
He shrugged. âMen are dumb, I'm just slightly better than the rest.â
âThat's debatable.â You joked and he raised an eyebrow.
âYour taste is questionable.â He shot back and you hit his arm in response, making him laugh but it dissolves as fast as it came. âI'm serious, hyung won't like it if you continue meeting Guwon.â
âI know, I can already hear him and we're not even there yet.â
âDonât be dumb, if you want a husband so bad, tell aunt to wait for us to renew our contract this October then I'll marry you.âÂ
He meant it as a joke, you knew that, but you couldn't stop the butterflies in your stomach from fluttering wildly. You're suddenly reminded of a scene from years ago, his alcohol-flushed cheeks pulled taut by the dopey smile stretching his lips wide and his slurred voice admitting something youâuntil todayâhave no recollection of what had been uttered.
You both have been battered to the nines, drunken out of your minds and stumbling over the smallest rocks on the street by the time Seokjin and Namjoon had found you halfway home. It was a miracle you both got off unscathed with how giggly and dumbed down you both were.
âBold of you to assume I'd say yes.â
âI got wealth, I got a good mug on me, what else would you need?â
âSeokjin also got those.â
He pondered long and hard, sucking air through his teeth before he turned to you again with a glint in his eyes.
âYou know what they say about my tongue right?â
He couldnât say he didnât expect the punch in the arm that followed soon after.
When the elevator door opens and you both go straight for the dance studio, the conversation about Guwon is put on pause and you dread the moment Seokjin hears what had transpired in the coffee shop when suddenly, Yoongi stills and hissed out a curse.
âShit, I forgot Jungkookâs muffins.â
#bts x reader#bts x fem!reader#bts x reader poly#bts x y/n#bts x you#kim namjoon x reader#kim seokjin x reader#min yoongi x reader#jung hoseok x reader#park jimin x reader#kim taehyung x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#soulmate au#ot7 x reader#namjoon x reader#seokjin x reader#yoongi x reader#hoseok x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader
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the warren
price x reader | 895 words
had the overwhelming urge to write creepy!price. this is the result. not closely edited, apologies.
CW: blood (mentioned), hunting (mentioned/implied), theft, stalking
Bare footprints, neat impressions set into the loam ringing the lake. They veered left to the woods, to the direction of the climb leading to meadows.
Where'd you run now?
The signs of her trail are near invisible in the night - disturbed foliage and snapped twigs - but not to him. Crouching at the edge where the prints disappear into the underbrush, he sees dark droplets of blood, wet, painting leaf and root. He wipes one off of a stone, brings it to his mouth, and runs the pad of his finger over his gums and tongue. Salt and metal, the very things she tried to use to keep him out, keep him away.
The very things he had developed a taste for.
John admires her spirit, even with his plan to snuff out that independence. Her frenzied escape only heightened his anticipation for when he'd catch her.
Run, rabbit, run.
~~ Three months earlier ~~
John knew the day he spied her trespassing at the hutch that her hands were clean. Soft and unsullied. Not a speck of dirt under her fingernails. Polite and easy with her apologies, lips parting to show a pink tongue and good teeth.
She saw the cat, followed it over the unmarked property line, and then spotted the colony in its enclosure.
"You like animals?"Â
"Yes, who doesn't?"
"Come see the kittens, then."
She trailed after him, around the side of the shophouse and back to the business side. He held his tongue when she observed none of the lots on the road bracketing the bay were fenced.
Fences were unnecessary this far out. Everything, everyone, knew their place. Knew where they were not allowed to tread without invitation. Everyone except her, apparently.
A newcomer to this neck of the woods.
She crouched, peered into the plastic, straw-filled tub on the porch, and watched the week-old creatures half-blindly search for their mother. The heat lamp was a functional substitute while the queen was out filling her belly.
"So, this is your shop?" She brushed herself off when she stood, eyeing the store's interior through the front windows.
"Mhm."
"Are you closed?"
"For lunch, as of five minutes ago."
"Oh."
He sighed. "But I can delay my meal. C'mon."
"Thank you, I promise I won't take long."
~~
She takes ten minutes. John leans against the back counter, steel thermos down to the dregs of the morning's coffee. The basket in the crook of her arm carries a week's worth of canned and dry goods. She presents it with a small smile and digs into a pocket for her cardholder.
He rings her up, poking through the haul. In addition to the sundry of foodstuff, there are basic toiletries, insect repellent, a lighter, and a pack of twelve-hour candles. She adds a pair of cheap red sunglasses from the revolving display. They do not make it into the final total.
"Can I ask what brings an Englishman here?" She asks after handing over a wad of cash, setting her wallet down to take the tag off of the sunglasses.
Like clockwork. Always the same question with every new face.
"Retirement," He cards through the bills and makes change. "And you? Visiting?"
"I'm renting for the summer."
He smirks and closes the cash drawer. Holding out what she's owed over a manicured hand, he tilts his head slightly. "Would that be the old Warren place? Or the Lakeshore Arms?" He drops the money.
A few coins slip through the cracks of her fingers, clattering sharply against the formica, some ricocheting to the floor at her sandaled feet.
"Limited housing supply here, least longer term," John explains, making no move to assist other than lazily pushing a quarter back across the counter.
She scrambles to collect the scattered tender, resurfacing from the other side of the counter with a sheepish look beneath her brow, clearly flustered. "The Warren place."
"Hm. Need a bag?"
"No, thanks," She says, smiling tight when she pulls two canvas bags from the sling over her chest. She drops the items into each bag inelegantly. Cans settle atop the loaf of white bread, and the bug spray slots snugly next to the toothpaste.
Never bagged her own groceries before, I'll bet.
She grabs her wallet. "Are thereâŚany other stores nearby?"
"Next place is two towns over. About an hour and a ten-minute drive, forty-five minutes if you speed," John leans back, arms crossing. I assure you, though, the store's got everything you need right here. And if it doesn'tâŚAll you need to do is ask."
It's heavy-handed. He knows. But it's better to plant the seed now and let it take root.
"I'll keep that in mind," She sets the sunglasses atop her head and turns to leave, only to spot the short stack of bagged deer corn near the door. One hand on the door, she takes a closer look. "Aw, I didn't know you could feed the deer like this."
His mouth slowly curls. "It's bait, sweetheart."
The instant drop in her expression sends a wicked thrill down his spine.
When she leaves, he watches her hurry down the road through the glass. He flips the sign on the door again: Out to lunch.Â
John fishes her ID card out of his pocket, murmurs her name, and looks back at her retreating form.
You're a long way from home, rabbit.
#john price#captain john price#captain price#price x you#price x reader#john price x you#john price x reader#john price x female reader#captain john price x reader#captain john price x female reader#captain john price x you#price x female reader#cod fanfic#cod fic
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To everyone freaking out over NM S2 premiering a wee bit later than expected. The amount of time/effort R&F put into this is colossal. They constantly and consistently pull 60-70 hour weeks. Week after week with no break, upwards of a year and longer, to the point they flirt with burnout like Leo/nore flirts with Annabel. That to me is the exact opposite of lazy. Over the last year, I and others have witnessed this mind-blowing work ethic first hand. Its insane the amount of work they put in. Often eps are well over the minimum panel amount, they don't have to do 10-20 panels more than the minimum, but they do it as they want to tell a good story with each episode ending where it feels natural. The next thing: Nobody is entitled to any creator's time, or gets to dictate how they spend their personal time off. A hiatus is merely an opportunity to create buffer. R&F are under no obligation to use it that way. It is their choice to. It is also a time for them to regroup, recover from fatigue -- as any artist or writer knows headspace is important to the creative process -- attend to the shop, catch up on any admin that needs doing, and a litany of other things that people need to do to go about their daily lives. This break -- because lets call it what it is, if this were a normal 8-6 we'd call it UPTO -- is for them to take time to themselves, same as any other job. If they want to play Star Dew Valley to relax or decompress or ruminate on an idea, who the heck are we to deny them that? They're two human beings, not machines.
Thirdly: Please consider: There is so much more that goes on behind the scenes of a comic of this calibre that we as readers don't see. (Think of an iceberg, how they are so much bigger than the tip that pokes above the ocean's surface.) R&F don't just make it up on the spot. There's script writing, planning, research, editing, more planning, rough storyboarding, more research, tests, and probably a heck of a lot more pre-production stuff than I can even guess at before sketching can even be considered commencing. We don't know their creative process, nor are we entitled to demand an explanation of their process, or that they use their personal time differently. (Personally, I listen to music and walk but what is one person's jam, might not be another's.) Nevermore S2 premiering a little later than expected is not some big drama its being made out to be. Its perfectly normal. I cant count the amount of times I've heard some comic/ book/tv series/movie has been delayed for whatever reason. (I've been waiting seven years for one book I won't mention here, as an example.) I don't know about you, but I know Id much prefer to read something that has been well thought out, with attention to fine detail applied to it than something rushed and shoddy. Give them grace to cook! I know we might be a wee bit disappointed, especially when we're so eager to find out what potential horrors might befall characters we've grown to know and love on the eve of one heck of a tantalising cliff hanger, but I ask that you all show a little patience and, more importantly, understanding.
#nevermore webtoon#nevermore webcomic#given the circumstances a wee bit of kindness wouldn't go a miss
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⼠ROCKSTAR!HANGE
rockstar!hange who is the fiery-spirited bassist of flĂźgel der freiheit â a german rock band famous for their fierce music, moody lyrics and masks made of bandages.
rockstar!hange who thrives in the spotlight, playing unforgettable solos and performing crazy stunts, from flips and back bends to knee slides and stage dives.
rockstar!hange whose body is all silver piercings, colourful nerdy tattoos and a few too many dumb not-always-drunken mistakes.
rockstar!hange who is positively unmatched in the headbanging game, jumping and thrashing until their hair has fallen out of its ponytail and their bandages are halfway off.
rockstar!hange who always knows exactly how to hype up the crowd or entertain them when thereâs a delay or technical issues.
rockstar!hange who has countless scars from stage stunt accidents and is way too eager to recount the stories in grossly excessive and gory detail during interviews. their bandmates call them a reckless idiot, but they claim that âscars make good ice-breakersâ and âlook badassâ and also âwere totally worth itâ.
rockstar!hange who strikes ridiculous poses and pulls weird faces in fan selfies â a total 180 from their promotional photoshoots, where theyâre always slightly smirking and matching the serious vibe of their bandmates.
rockstar!hange who loves their fans, almost as much as their fans love them, and would probably stop to take a picture or give an autograph to every person who asked, if not for their management team and bandmates literally dragging them away.
rockstar!hange who is just as unhinged online as they are in real life, often scrolling through edits of themselves, commenting on fanwork and posting memes and goofy photos with nonsensical captions. luckily this is all limited to their personal socials because miche and levi got sick of them doing this on the bandâs joint official accounts and changed the password to keep them out.
rockstar!hange who talked and rambled so much during the bandâs GENIUS interview that most of it didnât make it to the final cut.
rockstar!hange who, despite how it may seem, is actually really intelligent and practically the backbone of the bandâs revolutionary music; always thinking outside the box, suggesting weird ideas and experimenting with concepts that neither miche nor levi had even thought to try.
rockstar!hange who you met through micheâs girlfriend, nanaba, when she invited you to see them play their first show, back when they were still a no name trio playing at school proms and empty bars.
rockstar!hange who had you hooked from the moment they stepped on stage, unintentionally charming you with their silly antics, dorky chatter mouth and intense bass playing.
rockstar!hange who would proceed to see you at the end of every show after that because theyâd been hopelessly charmed by your looks, laughter and lovable personality. they flirted with you so blatantly that levi scolded them more than once, but you didnât mind, of course, because you were flirting back just as much.
rockstar!hange whose relationship status didnât become public until later, breaking the hearts of thousands, to the point that it was trending on german twitter for almost a week.
rockstar!hange who insists on a good luck kiss from you before every show.
rockstar!hange who doesnât really care for paps â sometimes even likes the attention â but will not hesitate to confront them in the act if they try to snap a photo of you, levi or miche without your permissions.
rockstar!hange who gushes about you so often to their fans that youâve accumulated a sort of fan club of your own.
rockstar!hange who is rarely seen off-stage without you at their side and an arm lazily thrown over your shoulders or a hand tucked into your back pocket.
rockstar!hange who will find out your current favourite song so they can add it to the set list last minute to surprise you.
rockstar!hange who is super clingy after touring, going out of their way to spend every waking hour with you â yes that includes following you into the bathroom â and then spooning you the entire night, only to do it all again the next day.
rockstar!hange who calls you the ârockâ to their âstarâ because youâre always there to keep them grounded; to remind them that, at the end of the day, theyâre a person just like all their fans, who gets tired, or needs a break, or worries and suffers burnout. itâs thanks to you that theyâre able to keep doing what they love, and they make sure that everybody knows it.
#i'm feral for this concept tbh#x reader#hange zoe x reader#hange zoe x you#hange zoe x y/n#hange x reader#hange x you#hange x y/n#hanji x reader#hanji zoe x reader#hange fluff#hange headcanons#aot headcanons#snk headcanons#{âĄ} juno writes !!
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Since you enjoy the trope, how about "only one circuit slab" with your choice of bot? :3 you know who my #1 is but go with whoever you think it would be most fun with. (If you want a more specific setup I'd be happy to toss some ideas around with you)
hopefully these are good...i had to go with OUR #1 and a couple other bots :3 although you already know that bc you helped with the silly ideas. did not edit this btw my bad if its all over the place
also human reader!! These turned out way longer than I thought, I think idk how to write headcanons and end up writing short imagines but eh, I was inspired
Post includes -> Swerve, Rodimus, and TFP Ratchet
MTMTE Swerve
A completely normal day on the LL, Swerve had closed down his bar for the day and you had stayed back to talk to him even as the last bot left the place. Being the friendly bot he is, he offered to give you a ride back to your room which you accepted
As you rode down the halls of the ship, Swerve mentioned how he has been looking for a roommate for like, ever, and since his room was big enough for another bot it was surely perfect for you.
You agreed of course and he immediately made plans to show you around his humble abode
Well guess what?
You turned the corner and instead of seeing his room there was a big ass crater in place of it
Your jaws dropped and agreed that he can stay In your room instead...at least until his room is rebuilt. Roommates, right?
Only problem blessing was that you had one bed
After some light arguing of who sleeps where, you both settled that you'll sleep awkwardly next to him where he wouldn't crush you and he would turn the other way. You settled down and stared at the ceiling as you stiffly lay there, wanting to give him his space. He respectfully gave you your space but continued to try to make conversation, although it was a bit awkward since you two weren't facing eachother
Another problem arose, you were on the edge of the bed and weren't use to not being nestled into your blankets, the ship was cold, you started shivering.
"I don't even know if you can hear me right now, I mean its not that muffled right? I can always speak a little clearer or louder but I shouldn't keep you up. Are you tired yet? I don't want to-"
"Swerve? Can you turn around?"
He turned and faced the ceiling while his helm turned towards you, he was about to inquire but was immediately silenced when you started climbing him and put down your pillows and blankets on his chest.
"It's uh, its cold. I could always move if you mind th-"
"No."
He blurted out. You could feel the metal beneath you radiate pure heat, more than usual. It was comforting. You sigh and lay down, cuddling up against your blankets and well, him, the best way you could. You could feel the soft hum of his spark beneath you, it was comforting. You didn't pay attention to the way your face heat up as your eyes fluttered shut
Swerve could only lay there, absolutely frozen. For once he was at a loss for words and he wondered if you could tell his spark felt like shooting out of his chest
He slowly reached out, his servo hovering above you for a second. You said you were cold, right? He hesitantly placed one servo above you, it ever so gently cradled your sleeping form.
You bet with that amount of warmth you got the best sleep of your life
He was NOT able to recharge that night. On one hand, he was keeping you safe and warm. On the other, the massive grin on his face would not go away
Maybe his room should get destroyed more often, or just maybe he can delay the reconstruction of it
MTMTE Rodimus
The LL had gone onto another one of its expeditions and you just so happened to have gotten lost with the most reckless but endearingly dedicated mech
It's been hours since you've been treading along this strange planet and during that time, you found out that the locals are not human-friendly whatsoever
It gets to the point where the two of you have gone way too long without any rest/recharge, Rodimus has sent an emergency signal and hoped that someone from the crew would find you two soon. However it gets apparent you both need to make a stop before you both pass out from exhaustion, especially you
Rodimus insists on transforming into his alt mode and you sleeping there until the morning, but you're equally as stubborn and insist on keeping watch for him.
He only agreed because of how blushy that made him. You, his special human, want to protect him even in these circumstances? Fine, you can sit on his shoulder and keep watch while he settles down to avoid using any more energon
Not even 10 minutes later, he feels your head suddenly rest near his neck-cables.
"Y/N?"
No response except your soft breathing, there's a soft smile on his faceplates knowing that you had fallen asleep.
He carefully takes you from his shoulder and transforms, in a split second you were laying down and peacefully sleeping in his alt-mode.
It may not be a bed/circuit slab but you're the only human he'd let sleep in his alt-mode, expect the seats to be warm when you wake up or his engines to purr if he's driving
Absolute endless teasing back on the LL btw, WILL ask for you to sleep in his alt-mode again or to have some sort of sleepover
TFP Ratchet
This medic is the definition of overworking yourself
Rarely ever he gets to recharge NEAR you and you swore you have never seen him actually recharge without Optimus or you begging him
This specific day wasn't any different, except you kept tossing and turning in your bed. Something was bothering you and you weren't sure what, it just did not let you sleep. No matter how tired you felt, your body would not let you rest.
Cue you going to accompany Ratchet and him being concerned and scolding you as to why you were up at such an hour
You responded with a slow frog blink
"I can't sleep."
He lets you stay with him a while and just hopes you'll fall asleep eventually, it had happened before after all. He puts you on his shoulder and otherwise continues working, fully expecting you to fall asleep in a couple of minutes
30 minutes go by and you're still awake somehow, your half-lidded eyes staring and probably getting fried by the screen. He has a small mental battle with himself before he sighs and decided to...stop working (explodes)
"Will you get some sleep if I...if I stay with you?"
He says it almost reluctantly. But only you know that its a genuine offer. If you weren't so tired you would've leaped up in the air and shouted YES!! But instead you sleepily nodded your head and clung onto him.
He groaned and headed over to his room which was bland besides some belongings, gifts from the kids, and his unused recharge slab.
There he would lay down, expecting to wait for you to sleep and then continue his work. But he didn't expect it to be this relaxing
You laying there with him, near his shoulder armor and neck-cables, softly breathing and huddled against him. It didn't take him long for his exhaustion to finally catch up to him. He blames you for being so...calming and wonderful.
Before he drifts into recharge, he turns his helm towards you so his cheek is still in contact with you. Hes just trying to make you comfortable obviously, no, it's not out of his own enjoyment. Hes just tired, okay?
Speak of it in the morning and suddenly he forgets how to talk and cant get an explanation out without sputtering
#tfp x reader#tfp ratchet x reader#tfp ratchet#ratchet x reader#maccadam#mtmte x reader#mtmte swerve x reader#mtmte rodimus x reader#swerve#rodimus x reader#lost light x reader#transformers x reader#one bed trope#yipe
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My work for Project: End Poem :D
i like this player / it played well / it did not give up
I like this player.
Dreamâs shitty apartment is too small for pacing, but he does it anyway. Back and forth and back and forth over and over, the sounds of his footsteps drowned out by the buzz of his thoughts.
Heâs felt out of balance for a while now- ever since he uploaded that first video. Before (before before before) everything was planning and studying and notes and calls with anyone he could get to agree to it. And then it had become filming and editing and that eternal moment before he pushed the button that would make the video public. A beginning. And an ending, of the before.Â
Planning had felt real. He could scroll through the words upon words stored in documents, or even rifle through the notebook he kept on his desk, the pages soft and well-used in his hands, his writing jumbled and messy. But the numbers now- they feel like a dream, almost fittingly. Climbing impossibly higher every time he checks, far surpassing any expectation heâd had.Â
But they canât be real, because he canât pay his rent this month.
His savings have run dry, exactly in the amount of time heâd predicted they would. It had been more than enough time. But he canât pay rent.
His parent's words echo in his head- if you do this, you wonât be moving back in with us. That had certainly lit a fire under his ass- prove them wrong, prove everyone wrong. But the time is ticking down, and he canât pay rent.
Oh, sure, the moneyâs on the way. His first check from YouTube, delayed by paperwork, is more than enough to cover this monthâs and the next. But itâs not here. And the numbers keep going up, but Dreamâs life is the same. Same shitty apartment, same 24 hours in a day.
His laptop sits open on his bed, and heâs doing his best to avoid looking at it. The looping screensaver plays on repeat, catching in the corner of his eye when he passes it, and he has half a mind to close the damn thing, end its taunting. Oh, you thought you could make something of yourself online? Think again.Â
He freezes in the middle of the room so abruptly that he nearly falls forward with the momentum of it.Â
And before he can talk himself out of it, he scoops the laptop up and enters his password, starting a Teamspeak call before all but running to his desk to grab headphones and returning to sit on his bed with the laptop balanced on his thighs, the call initiating.Â
This is a familiar action- late night (early morning?) calls with friends. Dream has never been shy about asking his friends for input on ideas, or thoughts of their own, especially his friends who are well-established in the field he wants to play. It's them he has to thank for a large part of his motivation. And it's them he calls on now, when his mind spells doom and his circumstances feel suffocating.
âDream?â a voice asks, marred by digital interference but comforting all the same.
Dream smiles at the screen. âBad,â he says. âI might need your help.â
âNew video idea?â Bad asks, and the quality of the call seems to settle, Badâs voice far clearer. He yawns, and Dream makes a point of not looking at the time.Â
âNot quite,â Dream mumbles.
âWhat was that?â
âItâs not a video idea. Or anything similar,â he swallows. As confident as Dream is in his friends, money is a different matter. Can ruin lives, friendships, and especially new YouTube channels if one isnât careful.
Bad hums reassuringly. âWhatever it is, you can ask. I canât guarantee that I can help but it never hurts to ask.â
âYouâre so wise Bad,â Dream jokes. âAnd old.â He feels himself relaxing, and in tandem, his mind clears.Â
âArenât you asking for my help? I could leave right now.â
âNo, no! Iâm sorry, Youâre not old,â Dream says quickly, adding not that old to himself.Â
âThatâs what I thought,â Bad says smugly, and Dream can hear his chair squeaking and imagines him leaning back in it with his arms crossed, although, strangely, his minds eye seems to envision Bad as a the shape of a person with his Minecraft character overlaid, rather than the very real person Dream knows Bad to be, and has seen on video. Heâs been spending too much time inside- itâd be good to get out once the rent issue is solved.
âWell,â Dream starts. âI told you about my problems getting money from YouTube, right?âÂ
âYou did.â
Dream sighs, thinking of all the trouble itâd been so far just to get the first check. âWell, itâs still not here. And my rent is due in a few days, and if it doesnât get here in time Iâm- Iâm out of luck. And money.â
âWhy didnât you tell me sooner? Dream, you muffinhead, how much do you need?â
And Dream giggles, the small smile on his face growing impossibly bigger as he tells Bad the amount, and as they go back and forth on whether Bad should just send the money right away (Dream argues that thereâs still a chance the money could come in time, while Bad says he might as well just send it now- just in case).
In the end, they hang up the call a half hour later, Dreamâs worries assuaged and with a promise to Bad that heâd tell him immediately if heâll need the money.
And when Dream wakes up the next day to a check from YouTube deposited in his account, itâs not just Bad who joins a call to celebrate with him- George and Sapnap are there too, and finally, finally, everything feels real.
It played well
âThat was perfect!â his instructor says, and Dream smiles before slouching against the wall, entirely out of breath.
No one ever told him dancing would be so hard.
Well, some had. His instructor, the nice lady who now hands him a water bottle and tells him to take a small break, had warned him plenty. But heâd foolishly thought she was only saying it as a courtesy, so heâd have an excuse if he struggled- and boy, did he.Â
Maybe it was a consequence of being locked inside for years, or maybe it was just his natural affinity for clumsiness.Â
Either way, heâd been preparing for his concert for a few weeks now, and it feels like heâs hardly improved. Between vocal coaching and dance lessons- âchoreographyâ he insists when George and Sapnap tease- it had been nonstop learning and working in LA. Away from his cat, and his house, and his friends. And content.Â
But the smile doesnât fade from his face even as he finishes off the water and steps away from the wall to stretch, arms over his head and legs extended until heâs balancing on his toes. And the burn of his muscles is so good.Â
A physical reminder of his work, his improvement. Sure, heâs still not the best, but heâs gotten better. And his future spells more lessons, more growth, until finally, finally-
He steps on the stage in a mask.
Orlando. Home. Lights and screaming and music, counting down and counting in. And heâs more nervous than heâs ever been, because finally, finally, finally, the numbers are real.
It did not give up.
Code is swimming in front of Dreamâs eyes like a school of fish, and his head is aching something dreadful, but he refuses to look away from his monitor.
He doesnât know what the time is- sure that if he did check, heâd have some sort of crisis. Every other member of his (albeit small) team went to sleep hours ago, the project left in lines of unfinished code and an increasingly bizarre contraption sprouting from the gym floor.
But Dream, better than anyone, knows how close they are.Â
Testing earlier had gone well- messing with particle mechanics and getting the shape so, so close. But something in the actual imaging kept going wrong, so theyâd called it for the day.Â
And Dream had tried to sleep, really. But every moment lying in bed felt like time he could be using to work, and sleep was elusive. So heâd ended up back at his computer. Alone in the dead of night.
The world fades away around him as he works, until he falls asleep at his desk- keyboard an unfortunate pillow. He wakes with the letters imprinted on his cheeks, and code he doesnât remember writing. But it looks good. It looks complete and promising and so full of potential that Dream is out of his chair and heading across the house to the gym before the indents of his keycaps have faded from his skin.
George is in the kitchen.
âDream?â he asks, setting a yogurt cup down. âYouâre up early.â
A glance at the clock on the oven tells Dream itâs nearly three in the afternoon. âI want to try something,â he says. âYou wanna come with?â
George nods, following him out of the house and to the gym, yawning several times as they go.Â
âYouâve got something on your face by the way,â George giggles, but it quickly turns to a frown. âDid you sleep at your desk?â
âI didnât mean to,â Dream grumbles, pushing the door to the gym open and flicking the lights on. George snorts.
Theyâre quiet as Dream fiddles with the mess of a contraption in the middle of the room. Heâs careful with it, always so careful, and George watches from the sides. When everything is in place, Dreamâs hands are shaking with excitement. Thereâs something in the air that tastes like success.
âDo you want to go in?â he asks, gesturing between the machine and George. George shrugs, then nods, careful as he ducks into the contraption. âOkay just- I think itâs going to work.â
âReally?â George asks, and for as much as he teases Dream about deadlines, for as often as Dream is wrong, it sounds like he believes it too.
Dream canât speak in the moment, so he just nods.
Theyâve got a PC set up in the gym, and he turns to it, loading into the server they use for all testing of FUSION. Heâs alone in the world, for the moment, the rig George stands in waiting to be called on by a command.
Dream types it in, having to go back and re-enter the letters several times with his hands still unsteady. And when everything is ready, he pauses before hitting enter, looking up to meet Georgeâs eyes.
âReady?â he asks.
âReady.â George responds, bouncing on his feet. âWhat do I say? Hello world?â
âYouâre so dumb,â Dream snorts. He doesnât look away from George as he presses the final key, watching the flickering lights of the machinery, scared to look at the screen and see if heâs done it.Â
âStop being an idiot.â George says after a beat, waving his arms and looking pointedly at the monitor.Â
Dream takes a breath, releases it. Turns his head.
And there it is.
George, in stunning resolution for being projected into fucking Minecraft, waving at him.
He looks between the two. Looks again.Â
âHoly shit,â he breathes. âWe did it.â
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everything has changed (alhaitham x gn!reader)
ONE. i just wanna know you better
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SUMMARY - alhaitham was positive that he was not worthy of anyone's love, nor was anyone worthy of his. but after bumping into you on a random wednesday morning, he was ought to be wrong in many ways. also; in which you attempt on asking alhaitham out a grand total of three times; three different ways, three different places, and three different situations, in hopes of him reciprocating your so called loveâ people do say that third time's the charm, right?
A/N - i have delayed this for far too long. i have maybe slept while editing this draft for around 4 times. i was supposed to post this last week. forgive me pls
âthree times.â
âpardon?â
you smiled at the gray-haired man at his desk, holding up three fingers as you repeated yourself once more. âi'll only ask you out three times, and if you decline all three of them, i won't ever bother you again. you can trust me on that.â
if there's one thing about you that alhaitham could describe, it's that you are⌠maybe a tad bit weird.
no, scratch that, you're insanely weird.
it's silly, he thinks. you're a well-known and respected scholar slash biologist from the amurta darshan. there's no one in the akademiya who doesn't know you, not when you're widely known for your eccentric researches and experiments. no, alhaitham definitely did not look into your work profile after that little incident. and even if he did, it was purely for work purposes, he was mainly doing his duty to report about it to the higher ups, lest he craves punishment or a lecture from grand sage azar.
anyway, frankly speaking, you should be professional, at the very least. hell, you have a doctorate. the title itself should be written all over you.
so why are you speaking to him like⌠well, he doesn't know. like you're a fool? a desperate moron in love? whatever it is, it's anything but professional to him.
see, this all started due to that sudden incident from a few weeks ago.
nothing ever beats the rush hour in the akademiya on a wonderful wednesday morning, it seems.
as a full time worker at the prestigious institute, it was just another day for you and your overworked colleagues. however, getting errands done during this time around would be a death wish, everyone within the akademiya walls knew of that, and of course, you do too.
yet it seemed like you had just dug your own grave.
honestlyâ who wouldn't? you needed to head over to your lab immediately, the specimens in the crate you were currently carrying needed to be experimented on within the fifteen minute timeline you had mentally set up in your head, so it was obvious that you had no time to lose.
and to speak; the crowds in the house of daena honestly weren't that badâ maybe a little less spacious than usual, but still merely nothing for an experienced scholar like you. see, that's what you had initially thought before getting back to your private lab.
you just need to head on over to the biology section of the house of daena to retrieve a book titled âfungi and its extraordinary livesâ, and you'll be set to continue conducting your ongoing research project. lookâ you did think of snatching the book way earlier before you even set out on an adventure of getting your crate of supplies, but it would've been too much work for you to go back and forth from your lab, as it was already close to the house of daena.
you figured it was best to do it on your way back instead, which, in full honestyâ was not even a bad idea. it was just that things just had to escalate a whole lot differently than you had intended to.
seeâ your first mistake was keeping your eyes busy on your task instead of what's in front of you. which, in another sense, is what any other normal person would do. well, you know your way around the akademiya like the back of your hand. the shortcuts to aisle number thirty-six in the house of daena, the bathroom to the end of the hall on floor two, the shortest route to the archive room of the akademiya, you name it. so you thought you could just waltz your way through the library easily. again, your first mistake.
your second mistake was that you were clearly doing anything but walking, understandably so. you're well aware of the akademiya rules: no running in the institution, no careless mistakes, no idle chit chat and gossipâ among many others. right, the handbooks weren't a stranger to you. there was even a point in your life where you were forced to memorise it from a to z by one of your professors because you were unfortunate enough to have unintentionally broken one of the many minuscule rules that one time, which in your opinion was quite the torture for a mere student like you back then. you may or may not still hold a grudge against the said professor.
as you were double checking your to-do list with a pencil and piece of paper on your beloved crate, you hadn't realized that you were walking towards someone. okay, maybe the correct word for your actions right now would be sprinting, but you'd hate to admit that you were in the wrong.
now, this is your last mistake. the person that is about to bump into you is not a mere scholar, whom you can't just apologize to once or a few more times and move on with your day.
next thing you knew, you collided into the person's chest that was so hard it felt you just crashed into a wall, and much to your dismay, caused you to harshly fall on the pristine floors from the impact, along with your precious, precious crate, which is now most likely a lost cause as your specimens and other important stuff you had worked so hard to look for earlier were all over you and the extravagant floors of the house of daena. disgusting, you know, but that was the least of your worries right now.
as if that wasn't already downright embarrassing enough, you're now covered in gooey fungi, you have totally made a fool out of yourself, and all eyes are currently on you, scholars and students alike whispering amongst themselves at the scene they were witnessing. a monstrosity, truly.
you were sure that you'd be the main topic of gossip for at least a week. maybe two weeks at best.
the house of daena was silent, with only the chit and chatter amongst the scholars as an exception. at first sight, you wondered why everyone would pay so much attention to you instead of continuing on with what they were doing just a fleeting second ago. surely this happens in the akademiya at least once, no?
you've made two revelations to this; one, you were so ungodly hideous that everyone just had to stare. or two, you had probably just bumped into some hot-shot akademiyan.
of course, the first thing any sane person would do is look up to the perpetrator who had cause you this much damage. (it was your fault to begin with.)
so you did.
and of course any normal person who had just been bumped into would have thought of the same thing: have every reason to be angry at the person who bumped into you, whether they were in the wrong or not.
so it was only natural that you too, had the same thought in mind.
but the second you laid your eyes on him, it's as if the whole world stopped, and you finally understand why everyone was so adamant on just standing there and whispering about your little incident instead of helping you out like any decent human being would. and the latter of your revelation was definitely on spot. you would've done a victory dance if you were in any other situation except this.
because the person you had just bump into is none other than the scribe of the akademiya, the one and only, alhaitham.
you've heard of him a few timesâ apparently he's quite the reserved man, yet would not hesitate to call you out on your wrongdoings or foolish mistakes. well, that's what you heard anyway; as a mere worker who is trying to make ends meet, you are in no position to judge people based on what your fellow juniors run their mouths about these days.
for as long as you've been both an alum and full-time employee at the akademiya, it's truly a wonder that you've never actually seen the scribe in person. right, that's also what you've heard people sayâ that the scribe can hardly be spotted, nor can he be found easily to begin with. he's never in his office, and it's not often that you'd find him within the akademiya walls; the man is anywhere but at his working place, and somehow gets away with it because he's the scribe, whose presence is not of importance unless he deems so.
and if you are granted the position to say this; it is mainly because the higher ups of the akademiya takes great pride in their respected positions, so it is not a shocker that someone with an official title like grand scribe can frequently get away with such things.
egocentric, blunt, unambitious and many moreâ those are the few descriptions you've heard over the past few years from scholars about the scribe.
but out of all of the mysterious things you've miraculously heard about the man, you've never seen or heard people point out how attractive he is.
how could they not? heâs got a broad frame that could actually knock the breath out of you (which in this case, quite literally did knock you down), a set of clothes that somehow just screams him, despite the fact that you know next to nothing about the guy, tuft of gray hair that bounces graciously and looks luscious enough it makes you envious how he even manages to take such great care of it, and lastly, a pair of turquoise eyes that looked like an oasis from the sumeru desert, one you could just stare into forever, ever and ever.
this man is a whole package.
it was like the gods had granted you the perfect opportunity to present yourself in front of an attractive man, like the gods have finally decided to fill a bit of colour into your hopeless romantic and workaholic life, and gave you this blessingâ except for the fact that this, this might be the most embarrassing way possible in doing so.
oh how you want the ground to swallow you up right now.
after what seemed like forever (it was less than thirty seconds), the man of the hour finally speaks, startling you with his voice. âwould you rather sit down there like a fool or will you stand up?â ouch. maybe it's safe to say that at least one of the things people say about him are, in fact, true.
you blinked, once, twice, before you could pick up on what what he said and hurriedly stand up, glass jars of your specimens that were previously all over you clinking to the floor a little too loud, some already having been broken and shattered, but you could care less when the man in front of you was currently glaring at you like you have committed one of the six cardinal sins.
before he could even jab you more with his next few blunt words, you decided to bow down to a complete ninety-degree and started profusely apologizing, all previous thoughts of wanting to blame everything on him for ruining your prolonged experiment were thrown out the window (again, it is your fault in the first place.)
sure, this might hurt your pride and ego, but you'd rather do this than having the possibility of listening to the scribe giving you a lifelong lecture on the basic rules of the akademiya, or yet even worse, you get sent to the grand sage and have your doctorate and title revoked for being unprofessional, unethical, or whatever nonsense grand sage azar would demote you for. call yourself dramatic and insane, but you'd rather not inflict any chances of ending up humiliated or jobless. or both.
a beat passes, and you're still mumbling out apologies, causing alhaitham to clear his throat in order to cut you off.
âyou⌠you can stand upright now,â he said, and it takes you another few seconds before you reluctantly do as he says, and the first thing you see is him looking at you with a puzzled expression plastered on his face.
âi apologize once again, scribe. it was my fault, i wasn't looking,â you looked down as you spoke, staring at your ruined materials on the white tiles.
alhaitham all but sighs, and tells you to look where you're going next time. you couldn't help but only nod, not even glancing at him once out of embarrassment. âyou are fully aware of the akademiya rules, are you not? act one-o-three; no running in the institution unlessââ
ââan emergency occurs, or and if ordered to by either of the six sages, grand sage included,â you finished his sentence with the slight of an eye roll, before remembering that this was the scribe, not your annoying biology professor who countlessly had you memorise the five-hundred-page worth of akademiya rules. truthfully, there was no need for a teaching institution to have that many rules.
then, he prompts another question: âdo you perhaps need any helpâŚâ he seemed to have trailed off, and you flickered your eyes to him just for a fleeting second to see what he was doing. âamurta scholar?â he finished his question as he stared at your lab coat, a small badge to your left with the amurta logo pinned on it, indicating which darshan you are from.
âuh⌠noâ it's alright,â you say sheepishly as you quickly crouched down, already starting to pick up your glass jars and whatnot. âyou should get going, scribe. you must have a lot of work to do here in the akademiya.â
alhaitham could only nod as you tell him that, not even minding the fact that you were not able to see him as of the moment. he merely tells you to watch where you're going next time and starts to walk away; which in your opinion was maybe just a tad bit rudeâ the least he could do was help you out. but knowing him, as per what people talk about, that'd be nigh impossible. also, you did say that you didn't need any help, so you couldn't blame him per se. honestly, if you were in his shoes you'd probably have done the same.
so you hurriedly finished cleaning up your mess and ran to your lab, all in your splatteredâwithâgooeyâfungi glory. as you sighed behind closed doors, you prayed to the gods above that your project would go smoothly and peacefully. fingers crossed.
well, maybe after yet another exhausting trip to the avidya forest for another set of fungi, that is.
but of course, it was only wishful thinking, there's not a lot to hope for when alhaitham pretty much occupied your mind the whole day. it has even gotten to the point where your fellow juniors had to snap you out of your daydream so that you could actually focus on your research.
sure, call yourself a hopeless romantic (maybe a crazy lunatic in this case), but who wouldn't fall for him at first sight? and who the hell cares about the things scholars gossip about him? a man with that sort of pretty privilege could run over your toe and you would gracefully thank him for it.
and, point in caseâ alhaitham isn't that bad. okay, sure, maybe a little too blunt and too uncaring for his own good, but he is not as bad as people make him seem.
maybe you should get to know alhaitham more, right? not because you're interested in him (you are, but that could be pushed aside for now), you merely want to debunk the bad rumors about him going around (they aren't even half as bad, just highly exaggerated and overall childish) and make sure that everyone knows that alhaitham is not just the egocentric and arrogant guy people always see (he probably is just exactly that, but it's worth the try).
you firmly believe there's more to the scribe than what meets the eye.
so, you make it your mission and goal to get to know alhaitham better, even if it may be the worst idea possible.
spoilers: it absolutely is the worst idea possible.
after the minor incident you had, you tried your very best to encounter him during work hours, which honestly wasn't as challenging as you thought it was. sure, he's not around much, but after maybe a week or so of hanging around the house of daena (stalking would be the ideal word you're looking for), you finally got to know his routineâ well, only for when he's around the humongous library, but that will suffice for now.
evidently, alhaitham would only visit the house of daena on wednesdays, and weirdly on saturdays, at ten in the morning sharp. for what reason you quite have no clue, but he's frequently around the linguistics section, reading a book or two about ancient runes and that sort of stuff, sometimes even seen squabbling with a certain architect from the kshahrewar darshan too. you don't know kaveh muchâ but apparently he's acquainted with alhaitham, of all people.
but now that you know a part of his routine, you can probably catch the opportunity to get to know him. so ever since then, you have been, quote unquote, âbumpingâ into him nonstop.
the first few times you bumped into him, you had greeted him a couple of times, and after a bit of coaxing, you somehow managed to drag him into small talk. you've even gotten to the point where you're asking him when he's freeâ reason why? of course, you just want to take him out for a bit during lunch break to make up for the incident you two had just a few weeks ago, definitely no ulterior motives whatsoever; which unfortunately, alhaitham kept declining because he quotes that âit would be a waste of time,â and that âthings should just be left in the past.â
but that clearly didnât stop you from trying, again and again. your guardians clearly didn't raise a quitter.
one thing you did find out about alhaitham after a few conversations with him is that the man is anything but fond of small talk, which was expected. and after countless attempts on trying to get him into one, you eventually had to go on a different route to get his attention.
so, here you are now, somehow having managed to reach your way to his officeâ and miraculously enough, alhaitham just so happens to also be present at the time, which gives you the perfect opportunity to raise the deal that has been dying to escape from your throat.
lookâ there's no denying that you are here for work purposes; you were requesting for one of your documentations to be cited and reviewed, and although alhaitham is mainly responsible for documenting data regarding the akademiya and the six darshans, he offered a helping hand during one of your small talks you had successfully managed to coax out of him.
and you did come here for that, but you just couldn't help but blurt everything out.
and it doesn't really help that alhaitham is looking at you like you've submitted the worst thesis possible. you haven't even handed it to him yet.
alhaitham continues to frown. âwould it not be a hassle to be asking me out that much? why would you even be interested in me?â he had asked, and he didn't bother waiting for your reply as he continued speaking. âyou could use those three times right now and i'll decline all of them instantly. that way, you won't have to bother me again.â
âwell aren't you quite rude, scribe,â you huffed, retracting your hand back to your side. talk about rude; you're here for the sole purpose of asking him out. âgive me a chance, would you? i'm confident that you'd have changed your mind by the time i'm on my last chance,â you grinned as you quirked your eyebrows up and down, and alhaitham almost rolled his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest and leans back on his chair. almost.
âi highly doubt it,â he says.
you tucked your files closer to your chest. âhave you ever heard of the saying âthird time's the charmâ, scribe?â
âi believe so, yes,â he nods, then adds: âyou'll only ever hear obsessive gamblers say that sort of nonsense when they've lost their current gamble, in hopes of winning the next round.â
in an instant, your jaw drops. âare you implying that i am gambling my love life?â see, if you look closelyâ alhaitham was this close to smiling.
âi am just saying that there is no point in pursuing something, or someone, in this case, when you've already failed the first time, biologist,â well, now you understand why scholars say he is unambitious. âit would be a waste of time to be around me, or be with me, for that matter. i doubt that i could ever reciprocate your feelings.â
ouch. you'll probably have to double check your list of alhaitham's personality chart again.
âplease?â you plead, and alhaitham stares at you for a little too long that you eventually had to break eye contact to avoid his intense gaze. âi promise you that i will never bother you again, you can trust me on that. you won't even see my face on the grounds of the akademiya.â
he looks at you confusedly. âare you not the famous biologist with fifteen awards on their name? i am bound to bump into you in the near future, in one way or another.â he says, tapping his finger on his forearm.
huh, how did he know that you have won fifteen akademiyan awards? as far as you know, this guy knows nothing about you, the fact that he had to check which darshan you are from during your incident was enough proof.
maybe you're not the only one who is interested in the other.
âthat's not the point!â you groaned, rubbing your temple with your free hand. this may or may not be directed to both your thoughts and him.
okay, maybe this was a bad idea after allâ alhaitham is an impossible man. you'd think that you were capable enough to break his façade, to see the true him after a bit of pestering, but nooo, you're pretty damn sure this is him. there's no such thing as a façade. he's just⌠alhaitham. which could either be a blessing or a curse, if you ever manage to steal his heart. that, or maybe both. but then again, it still doesn't change the fact that he is one tough nut to crack.
alhaitham sighs. âwill you really leave me alone?â
âhuh?â
âwill you really stop bothering me once you're over with your⌠shenanigans?â
you blinked. then, you widen your eyes, nodding. âof course. i won't pursue you again, scribe. all i am asking is for you to lend me your time for the duration ofâ uh, actually, i'm not sure what i am supposed to call this,â you mumble the last few words, but still audible enough for the gray-haired man to hear.
âsay, hypothetically, what would you do if i were to agree to one of your three chances of asking me out? what will you do then?â
âoh,â you shift from one foot to another, awkwardness coursing through your veins at the lack of answer you could think of at the top of your head. âi⌠i am not quite sure. that's for future me to worry about, i guess?â
alhaitham raises a brow, but doesn't question your uncertainty. instead, he says something else in return: âalright, then. i will indulge in your antics for as long as you'd have me as your⌠social experiment.â
social experiment is just an over exaggeration, right? it has to be. no rational person says it like that.
âwhat?â
âi'm saying that i will agree to the terms you have given me, but you will stop bothering once your chances are up. do you understand?â he enunciates his words carefully, and you almost dropped your files, right then and there.
gulping, you nod, a small grin tugging at your lips, and alhaitham already regrets his words when you say: âof course.â
well, be prepared for a rollercoaster ride.
extra note - ok guys please keep me in your thoughts and prayers đ writing slump is crazy this is the first work iâve posted in over 2 months. that is ridonkulous. hope i donât disappear again
taglist; @isotofl @dancinghillary @heartswonder
taglist is still open!! :D
#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham x you#genshin x you#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact reader insert#genshin x reader#al haitham x reader#genshin alhaitham#hâ§Ëâ writes#hâ§Ëâ everything has changed#i went through the five stages of grief writing this#yet somehow i still hate it
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Jodie Whittaker returns to Doctor WhoÂ
Big Finish Productions, in partnership with BBC Studios, today announces the first ever Thirteenth Doctor audio dramas as Jodie Whittaker returns to the Whoniverse alongside Mandip Gill as Yasmin Khan. Â
First seen on screen in 2017, Jodie Whittaker made TV history as the first female incarnation of the beloved Time Lord in Doctor Who. Â
Now sheâs back in a brand-new series of twelve, hour-long, full-cast audio adventures in time and space, due to be released from July 2025. By her side in the TARDIS, as ever, will be her best friend Yaz, once again played by Mandip Gill. Â
Jodie Whittaker said: âIâm over the moon to be joining Big Finish for more adventures in the TARDIS. Recording the Thirteenth Doctor and Yaz is a really lovely thing to revisit. One of the things Mandip and I used to love on Doctor Who was getting in, doing a new episode and meeting a brand-new cast. I just canât wait to step back into the boots, pull on the coat and get cracking. One thingâs for sure, itâs going to be brilliant.âÂ
Mandip Gill added: âDoctor Who has been a huge part of my career and personal life and I am looking forward to seeing how I can further enrich my character through this exhilarating series. To be able to work with Jodie again is a dream come true, we have such a special friendship, Iâm sure the recordings will be filled with laughter.âÂ
Big Finishâs Chairman, Jason Haigh-Ellery said: âThis year Big Finish is celebrating its 25th anniversary of producing full-cast Doctor Who audio drama â so, when we were granted the licence to create new stories set during the Thirteenth Doctorâs era, we immediately set to work. Â
âI am delighted that the inimitable Jodie and Mandip have decided to return to their roles with us and Iâm excited to welcome them to Big Finish. Alongside our two other forthcoming series for the Fugitive Doctor (played by Jo Martin) and the Master (played by Sacha Dhawan), 2025 has never looked brighter for the Thirteenth Doctor and her fam.âÂ
Big Finishâs Creative Director, Nicholas Briggs added: âJodie and Mandip were so welcoming to me when I worked on set with them in the TV show, so Iâm looking forward to repaying the compliment. Theyâre lovely people and theyâre full of enthusiasm for this project.âÂ
Big Finish listeners can now pre-order The Thirteenth Doctor Adventures, starting at just ÂŁ11.99 (per story on collectorâs edition CD + download) or ÂŁ9.99 (download only) exclusively from www.bigfinish.com. Â
A complete series multibuy bundle of all twelve releases is also available to pre-order at the specially discounted price of ÂŁ126 (on collectorâs edition CD + download) or ÂŁ102 (download only), again exclusively from the Big Finish website. Â
All the above prices include the special pre-order discount and are subject to change after general release.Â
Please note that Big Finish is currently operating a digital-first release schedule. The mail-out of collectorâs edition CDs may be delayed due to factors beyond our control, but all purchases of this release unlock a digital copy that can be immediately downloaded or played on the Big Finish app from the release date.
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Razorâs Edge
Chapter Five || Chapter Six || Chapter Seven
Also available to be read on AO3, here
It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations and suicide. I will add and edit tw's as needed.
WC; 6109
Notes;
this chapter includes particularly dark themes, it is of the utmost importance for me to remind you to please check trigger warnings again if needed. sorry for the delay in updating! this chapter was especially difficult for me to write, i will say that good things are on the way but this story will continue on track with its darker themes.
with that, all the love in the world xx
(Not Beta Read)
The sliver of heaven you shared with Charlie was all you had to hold on to. The autumn air was growing bitter and cold at a head splitting pace.
Friday morning came with a sharp dose of reality, pulling you from your thoughts that had, for the better part, been consumed by Charlie.
It was the early hours of the morning; the sun had only begun to rise. You were in bed all alone, awoken by the deafening buzz of your phoneâs ringer.
You scrambled straight upwards, searching for your phone in the mess of your sheets, subconsciously searching for Charlieâs body besides you as well. This had been the first night this week that he had not spent beside you.
You mumbled, finding your phone, answering it without looking at the caller ID. Your eyes were heavy and still half clouded with sleep.
The half-hearted sedation was quickly shaken out of you as your auntâs frantic voice came through in the other line.
âOh my God, Oh my God! Youâre okay!â Irina sobbed in relief.
Your entire body stiffened in an instant, as though a bolt of lightning held you straight up in bed. You pulled your phone away from your face placing the call on speakerphone, now seeing the previous missed calls and voicemails your aunt had left you prior flash on your home screen.
You could barely make out your own voice over the now deafening drum of your heartbeat. âYes, Iâm okay. Iâm so sorry I missed your calls. What happened?â
Your stomach had already begun twisting itself up in knots, you subconsciously knew what mustâve transpired.
The line was silent for a moment; you understood that you were both just trying to find the right words to say.
âDo you know who it was?â You whispered. You werenât entirely sure you wanted to know. There was only one reason she must have called you so frantically and so early; another murder had taken place in Woodsboro.
Your auntâs voice was muffled as she answered.
âWhat?â You croaked out.
She spoke the name again. Still, it was entirely too surreal. You couldnât have caught it without asking her to speak again.
âNoâŚâ you stated, âwho was it?â the tears were now steadily pricking up against your lash line.
âScott Anderson. Did you know him? He was in your grade. Oh, dochka. Iâm moving my flight. Iâll be home as soon as possible. I promise. Iâm so sorryâŚâ
You were swept through a wind tunnel, head blaring at her words. Her voice just seemed to ramble on and on into a catatonic hum.
Anderson? Dead? Murdered?
You couldnât recall what you said afterwards. Couldnât recall the end of the phone call. Couldnât recall how you pulled yourself out of bed and made your way into the parking lot of Woodsboro High School.
You had hardly known the first two girls who were murdered, but knew from others that they were good, that they were decent people. You tried your hardest to convince yourself that they mustâve been targeted, specifically, for some unknown reason. But their murders must have been isolated. Right?
âThe Woodsboro Senior, captain of the football team, Scott Anderson, was found butchered, gutted, in the early hours of this morning. This brutal murder can now be reasonably placed in correlation to the murders of two Woodsboro girls who had been killed just days prior.â
A female newscasterâs voice spoke from somewhere behind you as you pushed your way through the growing crowd that had formed outside of the school.
âIt is now more apparent than ever that Ghostface has returned to Woodsboro. Their clear motive is still unavailable at this time.â The newscaster continued as you moved just out of earshot.
It was undeniable now; you had tired your very hardest until this point to deny it.
You dropped your things onto the floor beside your first period desk.
You couldnât pay any attention to the surrounding students, to Kirby, or Jill.
You didnât know what you needed, didnât know what to do. You sat paralyzed until the first bell rang out around you.
You couldnât get the image out of your head. The newscasterâs words buzzed in your mind. âGutted.â âButchered.â
You gripped the corners of your desk with white knuckles, watching the clock tick onwards as the pit grew in your stomach.
You did your best to hold it all together until the feeling of nausea sent you up from your desk before the class was even dismissed.
You ran to the bathroom towards the end of the hall, falling to your knees in the stall, letting the contents of your stomach fall from you like loose change in your pockets.
After you spent minutes dry heaving above the toilet, you sat back against the cool tiled walls, pulling your knees into your chest.
You were sick.
So sick.
But it wasnât the thought of Scotty begging for his life, or the thought of his insides turned outwards that caused this feeling alone.
It was the fact that the thought of all of this brought you so much relief, alongside a feeling of twisted vindication. You were quick up onto your knees again, retching.
You sat there on the bathroom floor until well into second period.
You forced the thoughts away, trying your best to clear your mind. Anderson was gone. There was a serial killer somewhere close whose motives and next course of action were completely unknown. There was nothing you could do about any of it besides pull yourself up and be strong.
You were standing in front of the bathroom mirror, rinsing your mouth out thoroughly when you heard your phone buzz in your back pocket.
You used your elbow to wipe your face in lieu of a paper towel and reached for your phone.
A message from Irina appeared. âThe earliest I could change my flight was for Sunday morning. Less than two days, love, Iâll be home soon.â
You cleared your throat, typing your response. âOkay, Iâll be okay.â
You were sure you must be okay. Your aunt would be home within the next few days. And maybe you wouldnât have to spend the nights alone. You could always invite Charlie to stay again. Charlie-
How could you have not spoken to him yet today?
You couldnât bring yourself to ask him to stay again last night. You knew he had things to attend to in the home he was responsible for. He hadnât pushed to stay either, you had assumed he also did not want to overstay his welcome. There was no welcome he could possibly overstay with you, but you knew he was trying to be respectful.
But, with another murder, you were certain youâd both finally be on the same page that it wasnât smart or safe for either of you to be alone.
You went to call Charlie but immediately ended it after the first ringer tone played through.
âIdiot.â You murmured to yourself. He was surely still in class, just like the rest of the student body, unlike you were.
You looked yourself over in the mirror. Your eyes were bloodshot, skin sallow and pale from the episode you had just pushed through. This wasnât a good look for anybody.
If there were any day to just go home and lock the doors behind you, it was this one.
You fixed yourself as best as you could, adjusting the hemline of your shirt, splashing cool water over your warm face once more.
You pulled out your phone again to send Charlie a message before exiting the bathroom.
âIâm going home for the day. Not feeling well, please let me know if youâre okay. Call me after school.â
You sent the message, shoving your phone back into your pocket and pushing open the bathroom door.
The hallways were a cruel and cold sort of empty. You kept your eyes glued to the ground, kept your body close to the lockers that lined the walls.
All you could hear was the dull hum of the fluorescent lighting above as you rounded the corner that led to the exit of the building, until-
Familiar voices reached your ears before you could make out the words they were saying. You spotted the familiar frame of Jillâs back towards you. She was speaking to someone in a small nook in the hallway. It wasnât until you were nearly right beside Jill that you made out who she was speaking to-
âNo, no. Iâm done Jill.â Such a familiar voice. Even though hushed and barely audible, you couldâve recognized it anywhere. âPlease.â It was Charlie.
Your heart skipped into your throat as you caught his line of sight.
His eyes were deep red, black circles laced tearfully under his waterline.
You couldnât have spoken up if you had found the words.
He immediately stiffened as he realized you were passing by in front of him, as though you were the last possible person he couldâve expected to see.
You mustâve only held his gaze for a second. A minute.
You couldnât have been sure.
Jillâs head snapped back to face you as your hands met the school entranceâs steel handles. Her expression overflowed with sickly venom.
Click.
You were out of the school within a second.
âDone?â Done with what?
Your head felt as though it had been crushed and spun by a mallet.
What could that have possibly meant?
You had no idea they even spoke to each other anymore. Charlie had made it seem as though they hadnât kept in contact in years. And what could he have meant by âdone?â
Your feet carried you forward mechanically, left-right-left-right.
You werenât sure why your eyes were welling with tears.
You could hear your name being called out from somewhere behind you.
Click.
You slammed your car door behind you, peeling out of the parking lot as quickly as you could possibly have had.
What could he possibly have been speaking about with her?
The thought of it nearly sent you spiraling again. Itâd be a lie to say that you hadnât almost had to pull over a number of times to empty your stomach all over again.
Was he seeing her? Was he telling her that he was done, done with whatever relationship they had formed?
You knew they werenât friends. You wouldâve seen them talking more, he wouldâve mentioned it if that were true.
You slammed your front door behind you, stumbling up the steps to your bedroom.
It was just too much. You needed a second, a single second, to just pretend that this day had never happened.
Your phone began to ring, over and over and over again.
You knew who it mustâve been without checking the Caller ID.
Youâd call him back later, you just needed a minute to try to sort this all out.
You turned off your phone, curling up in your bed below you, rocking yourself to dispel the thoughts of the day.
You werenât sure when you had eventually drifted off into a sickly and disturbing daytime slumber.
In your dreams, you stood above Andersonâs body. You watched intently as he cowered in fear below you.
There was something sick there. Something that built and consumed you.
You had all of the control.
It was power.
There was a sudden sense of starvation for it as you thought back to the horrible things Scotty had said and done to you.
The twist of the blade in his stomach, the smile you felt on your face as you cut him again, and again.
A familiar coo could be heard behind you, somewhere in the distance. The voice praised you, instructed you on how to twist the hilt of your knife.
The familiar figure grew warm, traced its hands along your waist as you slashed the man who had previously made you feel so weak and powerless.
âJust like that doll, so perfect.â Charlie whispered behind you, urging you to turn and face him as your knife caught in Andersonâs chest.
You let the handle go, face contorting in pleasure as you watched Andersonâs breathing grow shallow.
You turned to face Charlie then, turned to return the kisses he placed gently alongside your neck. It was bliss.
You had never felt so strong as he carefully guided you and urged you on. You had never felt so safe and protected as you had in that moment. It was real to you. It was so incredibly real.
Click.
You shot up in bed. Chest heaving, hands grasping at your throat to try to catch your breath as the dream you had just had replayed itself over quickly in your mind. You were drenched in sweat; the room spun and shrunk around you.
The sun had set, you couldnât have possibly made an accurate guess at the time.
You brought your hands down in front of you, your fingers trembled as you searched for blood you knew realistically could not be there under the dim lighting of the lamp on your desk.
You sat there for a moment, eyes glued to the ceiling, adjusting in the dark. A burn in your throat sent you carefully out of bed.
It seemed as though every sound was amplified as you crept to your bathroom down the hall.
You tore out of your damp clothing that clung and suffocated you, dropping it all in a disregarded pile on the tile flooring. You turned on the shower faucet, allowing the water to cool as much as possible.
You stood under the steady stream. The icy water was a needed comfort. You held your mouth open, swallowing the water until it made your stomach heavy.
You nearly fell back against the shower floor, pulling your knees into your chest again, letting the frigid water shock away any horrible thoughts that could cling to your mind.
After an indescribable amount of time had passed, you worked slowly, lathering soap across your body and through your hair. Your nails scraped and scratched across your skin in the process.
After getting yourself together as best as you could manage, you made your way back into bed.
You grabbed your phone, knowing it was time to face Charlie. You werenât sure what you would say to him, he had left you more missed calls and text messages than you could easily count.
The phone rang, rang, and continued to ring until you were sent to his voicemail box.
You pulled the phone away from your face, ending the call. âStrange.â You hummed to yourself.
You called him back again. You were met by his voice mail, again.
Your fingers hovered over your keyboard as you thought up what to say.
âI donât know whatâs going on, but I am ready to talk. Please call me back ASAP.â
You sighed, setting your phone back down on your chest.
The house was so quiet, you could make out the distinct sound of the crickets outside. The noise of your stomach groaning in hunger was quick to fill the air. You pushed yourself up and out of bed, sliding your phone into the waistband of the shorts you had put on after your shower.
There was no point in waiting around, starving, for Charlie to get back to you. You prayed that this was all just a simple misunderstanding, something he could easily explain. You refused to let yourself dwell on any other explanation.
You just hoped heâd get back to you quickly, the thought of going to bed tonight entirely alone after yet another murder sent a chill up your spine, made the dread build up inside you.
You rounded the top landing of the staircase, the far-off dim lighting of the kitchen illuminated your way down the steps.
You had just nearly come into view of the entryway when your heart skipped up into your throat.
The front door was opened just a sliver of the way, just enough so that you wouldnât have noticed it if you hadn't been paying careful attention.
You froze immediately, all of your senses heightened at once as you tried to steady and conceal your breathing.
You couldâve sworn you had closed it on your way in.
A terrible thought hit you then. Had you forgotten to lock it in your hurried daze to find some semblance of solace in your bedroom?
You listened as hard as you could for any sound that seemed out of place, searched for anything else that seemed out of the ordinary.
You werenât sure how long you stood there in silence. You debated running back up into your bedroom, debated making a run for the front door.
But if someone would have come in⌠you would have heard them, surely, right?
Right?
You took an unsteady step forward, wincing as you heard the step creak below you.
âHell- hello.â You called out, cleaning your throat.
You waited for another moment for a response.
âIf thereâs someone here, show yourself.â You took another step forward until you reached the entryway, your eyes quickly darted around as you reached for a candleholder that sat on the entryway table.
Nothing.
Complete and total silence.
After another moment, you sighed in relief, placing the candle holder back on the table and hurriedly shutting the door the rest of the way. You made sure to slide the lock shut this time.
You must not have closed the door like you believed you had. You scolded yourself for being so reckless. You had to be more careful than this.
Your stomach was still in knots as you made your way towards the kitchen. You were just on edge, that was all.
Click.
You processed the feeling of your phone slipping from your waistband and the sound it made falling to the floor and just out of reach before you processed the sudden overbearing feeling of a figure pressed up behind you.
You processed the feeling of a heavy and strong arm draped around and in front of your chest, holding you in place tightly and without room to writhe away before you noticed the sharp, nearly piercing, cold blade against your neck.
Silence.
This couldnât be happening.
A thousand thoughts seemed to pass through your mind in an instant.
This was it.
It was all over.
You imagined Irina coming home to find your lifeless body in the hallway beside the living room, the room where you had shared so many of your most precious memories with her.
You imagined Kirbyâs reaction when she learned the news of your passing.
Imagined how this would make Charlie feel-
CharlieâŚ
Oh God, you would never see his face again; be in his arms again. You said a silent prayer that he wouldnât hold himself responsible for any of this. You wished you wouldnât have ignored his calls earlier in the day, you wished more than anything that his last memories of you alive would have been of something good. It all seemed so meaningless now.
You wished you could have just told him you loved him one last time.
You were truly just so grateful in that moment that he was not there, that he would not have to face the same fate you were about to.
Your eyes welled over with tears, the surrounding air had long been sucked away. You were standing in an empty vacuum of time and space.
The fear you held was quickly consumed by resignation and peace. There would be no fighting your way out of this.
You sucked in what you assumed would be your final breath. The first tear slipped down your face, you waited, waited for the searing pain that was bound to come.
Only it never came at all. The grip around you tightened incrementally, if only for a second longer, before disappearing all together.
You heard a heavy thud behind you as the assailant fell to their knees.
You coughed and sputtered as you realized what had just happened. You scrambled for the knife that laid in front of you, your adrenaline now kicking into high gear.
You held up the knife and spun to face the masked figure that knelt in front of you.
You watched with shaking hands and blurred vision as a dark gloved hand came up to rip off the Ghostface mask to be thrown across the hall.
The sight that unfolded in front of you was more horrible than anything you could have prepared yourself for.
âNoâŚâ Your voice cracked on your words.
Charlie sat before you. The tears streaked down his face in a constant stream, his hands grabbed through his hair before falling back at his sides in resignation.
âI canât do it, fuck I canât do this.â He spoke more to himself than you. It nearly seemed as though he was begging you to do something, anything.
You couldnât even begin to process the emotions that took hold of you at that moment.
Charlie went to move closer to you, you instinctively held the blade tighter pointed towards him in response.
He looked so incredibly pained by your movements.
âGet the fuck away from me.â You spat between broken breaths.
Charlie Walker was the murderer who terrorized Woodsboro. And what was worse, you had trusted him. You loved him. Loved a killer.
And now he was here, to hurt you. To kill you. In a single instant, he had destroyed every shred of faith you had in him.
The entire rug of reality was swept from underneath your feet in one swift motion.
He shifted backwards, putting more space between you in some sort of offer of comfort.
He raised his hands above his head, grimacing as he watched you flinch.
âPlease, you have to kill me. Please, I canât hurt you. I canât do this anymore. Iâm begging you.â Charlieâs voice was just above a whisper. You could tell he was trying to hold it together as best as possible. He was failing miserably.
The entire room seemed to tilt and turn upside down and back again at his words.
What did he mean by this? Kill him? He had come here to kill you.
The sincerity in his tone and expression as he softly pleaded with you over and over broke you completely apart again.
Could you do it? Could you really kill him?
Your grip on the knife faltered for a moment as you looked him over.
âWhat are you talking about, Charlie?â You begged, you wished he could give you some sort of explanation for all of this.
He shook his head violently, you could tell each second that passed brought him even more pain.
âI couldnât let her do it. I couldnâtâŚâ He continued, catching on his own words.
âHer?â Your eyes were wild now, your mind worked at breakneck speed, trying to puzzle this all together.
âShe didnât give me a choice, she decided you had to be next. I couldnât let her⌠If she would have been the one to get her hands on you,â Charlie continued, seemingly ignoring your question. âI thought I could at least make it painless, take away any of your suffering. But I canât, it has to be me. If you kill me, there will be too many eyes on you. There wonât be any way she could touch you then. Youâd be safe.â He spoke in rapid succession.
It hit you then, Jillâs expression earlier that day in the hallway, the conversation you had overheard, the both of their absences that night of the party when the first murders had taken place.
Clang.
The knife slipped from your hands as you went nearly completely slack at the realization.
Jill and Charlie, working together, murdering together. She had decided you were to be their next kill.
âWith Jill?â Your lip quivered at the question. He nodded, you already knew the answer.
You dropped to your knees in front of Charlie.
Your vision went in and out, dark and light splotches clouded your line of sight. You could barely make out Charlieâs figure or voice just in front of you.
This couldnât be happening.
âI didnât have time to plan, I wouldâve gotten you to safety. I wouldâve turned myself in. I had no choice but to come tonight, come when I did. She thinks Iâve told you something, that you know something about all of this. She decided today, she wouldâve come if I hadnât begged her to be the one to do it instead. All I could think about was keeping you out of as much pain as I could.â
You could hardly understand what he was saying. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing.
He wiped away at his tears, composing himself before speaking again. âBut now I see. You have to be the one to kill me, sheâll let you go then. Sheâll have to.â
âNoâŚâ You murmured. How could you bring yourself to do something so horrible?
How could he have been involved in these crimes? The man in front of you now seemed entirely transformed from the sweet boy you once imagined.
You thought back though, carefully, on the story about his father, that night he had stepped in between you and Anderson. You had so many questions; it was right in front of you all this time.
âPlease, doll. You have to do it.â He was growing increasingly desperate.
You shook your head again. If he were truly just a monster, truly just began all of this because it was something he wanted to do; then maybe you could choose your life over his own. There had to be more than this, though. There had to be a reason behind this all.
âHow did this all begin, Charlie? I mean, was any part of you that youâve shown me even real? If you tell me the truthâŚâ you paused for a moment, swallowing hard, eyes flicking between the discarded blade and Charlieâs gaze. âIâll do what you want.â
He took a deep breath, nodding, easing back a bit more.
You tried to keep yourself as composed as you could possibly manage in that moment. You made sure to settle on your knees with easy access to the blade if you needed it at any time. Something in his expression calmed your nerves, even if only slightly.
If he had complete intentions of harming you, he would have done so when he had total control, right? You could allow him to explain all of this.
He cleared his throat before speaking. âI just want you to know that this, us, is real. I do love you. Iâve always meant that.â
You bit your lip hard, nodding, urging him to continue.
âThe story about my father was true. I did murder him to save my mother and I. Jill was the only one who knew, and sheâŚâ He paused for a moment, eyes dropping to the ground. âWe lost contact after everything had transpired years ago. It wasnât until this summer that she approached me, told me her plan.â
âWhat plan, Charlie?â You were trying your hardest to process and retain all the information he was sharing with you.
He inhaled deeply. âIâm sure you know by now who her aunt is.â
You nodded yes, Sidney Prescott. But wouldnât her relation to Sidney make her a likely victim of all of this? How could she resort to perpetuating a nightmare her aunt had survived years ago?
As though Charlie understood your confusion without having to voice it, he continued. âShe is tired of living in her auntâs shadow. She wanted the fame. She wanted to be the perfect victim.â
You felt your face twist in disgust and horror.
âAnd you⌠youâre doing this to help her⌠become famous? Are you doing this because you want the fame too?â Your voice raised as you questioned him. You subconsciously shifted closer to the knife.
Charlie looked devastated at your words, as though he felt entirely ashamed that you could assume so low of him.
He shook his head vehemently. âNo, no. Not at all. When she first told me her plan, I laughed in her face. I didnât think she was serious. But she- she grew angry, told me I didnât have any other option but to help her in all of this.â
âWhat do you mean? You didnât have a choice?â You questioned him, not fully believing what he was telling you. He had to have had some other option than to resort to planned murder.
âWhat I didnât know before all of this, she had recorded the phone call I had made to her after my fatherâs death. She had proof that I had planned to do it. She said if helped her, she would delete the evidence. When I told her no again, told her Iâd rather turn myself inâŚâ the tears began to run down his face again. âShe threatened my mother, and I knew she meant it.â
You sat in stunned silence. How could she be so cruel? So calculating? She wouldâve turned him in if he refused, then with him behind bars she wouldâve murdered his own mother. You wouldnât have ever imagined her capable of this.
You werenât sure why you trusted Charlie at this moment, but you believed him, wholeheartedly.
âThat was months ago now, when the school year started, I still had hope that she would let this all go. But she only grew more obsessive. I shouldâve known better. I shouldâve stayed away from you. I almost didnât go through with those first murders that night of the party, butâŚâ
He held your gaze intently, you hadnât realized just how long youâd been holding your breath.
âBut what, Charlie?â You knew the answer already.
âShe threatened you.â His voice cracked on his last word.
âShe promised me that youâd be safe through all of this. She promised me that you would be off limits.â
He couldnât stop himself from grabbing you in his arms then, pulling you closer to his chest. You shivered at his touch, only you couldnât pull away, couldnât bring yourself to love an inch away from him.
âIâm so sorry, I know youâll never be able to forgive me, never be able to remember me the same way. Iâm so, so sorry. I love you more than life itself, and Iâm the reason you were ever in any danger at all.â
You were in shock, complete and utter shock. You knew something had been going on with him. You had no idea how much he was hurting, how much he was carrying. Heâd done this all to protect his mother, heâd done this all for you.
And nowâŚ? It couldnât all be for nothing. It couldnât end like this. That evil, manipulating bitch has used and abused Charlie into nothingness with complete disregard.
You knew he meant what he said, could read him like a book. He would never hurt you, would choose your own life and well-being over even his peace of mind. She destroyed your sweet boy, used his most traumatic experiences against him to bend him to her will, knowing heâd comply for the people he loved.
Your hurt and terror and confusion was slowly but surely bubbling up into something dark, something you had never felt before. It was rage, murderous rage.
Your face contorted, the tears that streaked your face grew hot against your skin and dried completely.
You pulled away from Charlie, holding both of his shoulders in your hands. Your face was just inches in front of his own.
âWe have to end this.â You spoke with more determination than you had ever spoken with before.
Your expression was drawn in shrewd control as your growing plan developed in your thoughts. Your solution and way out was decided at that moment.
Charlie seemed equally surprised and confused by both your sudden actions and words.
âWhat do you mean?â He asked, trying to steady his voice to meet your focus. You could tell your idea had not yet been thought up by him.
Your lips twitched upwards cruelly, as if you were about to recite some sick joke. âWe have to kill her, Charlie.â
He shook his head, eyes widening in disbelief. âNo, no. If we both live tonight, she will know for certain that you know. You will be in even more danger, Iâm the one who has to die.â
Your smile widened. You could both come out of this. You knew you found your only other option.
âNo, see,â you grabbed the blade in one hand while forcing the hilt into Charlieâs grasps with the other. He seemed in pain to even be holding it. âIf you just make it look like you tried, like you tried to kill me, she wonât suspect anything. Itâll at least buy us time, Charlie, to figure out a real plan.â
He looked at you in disbelief, the disbelief was quickly overshadowed by realization as you gently guided his hand upwards until the tip of the knife pressed against the small space below your shoulder.
âNo, baby, I canât hurt you.â He was so sincere, so gentle.
You would need time to process this, need time to heal. But at this very moment, neither of you had the gift of another option that didnât result in certain death and time was ticking by.
He had done so much for you, because he loved you.
It was your turn to return the favor. You would do this because you loved him, you would truly die for him, die to bring some safety and peace back into his life.
âPlease, if you help, just here,â you shoved the knife forwards a bit until it just pierced your skin through your t-shirt. You both winced at the contact. âIt will be done and over quickly. Iâll phone the police as soon as you leave.â
You tried your best to be convincing that this plan would work.
He knew this was the only way, completely hated himself for it all. You could read it all in his expression. If he took your place here, it would be too obvious that he was involved.
You wrapped both hands around his own and held the blade even tighter. He needed the reassurance more than you did.
âIâll be okay, I promise. No vital organs here.â You tried to laugh, giving him a sorrowful half smile.
His lip quivered, eyes darting between you and the blade quickly before landing steadily and softly on your face.
You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his own. The kiss was so incredibly gentle, it was the kind you knew youâd never experience again.
He kissed you back, running his free hand gently over the back of your head.
âI love you Charlie.â You whispered, inching forward even closer.
âI love you, more than life itself.â He replied earnestly.
With that, you pushed his hands forward with all your might.
White, scalding, blinding pain.
You couldnât hold back the throat tearing scream that escaped from between your lips.
Charlie removed the blade quickly as your hands fell to your sides.
He recited a string of obscenities and âI love youâsâ as he took such gentle care to lower you to the ground.
He stood, you could barely focus on his frame in front of you.
He knelt down one more time, kissing across your lips and face. âIâll meet you at the hospital.â
He wouldnât let go, you knew this was killing him. It was killing you.
âGo, Iâll be okay.â You stated as firmly as possible, time was of the essence.
His lip quivered as he stepped back, quickly grabbing his discarded mask and blade.
You reached for your phone that laid right beside your fingertips and dialed the numbers 911. You could hardly bring yourself to answer the operatorâs questions. You pressed your hands tightly to the wound as your vision came in and out in darkening waves.
You willed your eyes open to watch Charlie walk out of the home through the front door until he disappeared, closing it behind him.
The last thing you could recall before slipping into unconsciousness was the familiar blare of sirens and flashing lights coming through the bay window.
You could only pray that this plan would be enough, even just for now, even just to buy some time, to ensure safety.
It just had to be enough.
#fanfiction#fanfic#charlie walker#charlie walker fanfic#charlie walker fanfiction#charlie walker x reader#charlie walker x y/n#scream 4 fanfic#charlie walker smut#fanfiction author#rory culkin fanfic#rory culkin fanfiction#razorâs edge
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ADVENTURES WITH CHEESE EXTENDED EDITION PT 6
My dream job was currently a nightmare. Several sudden changes in upper management prompted a full audit of the system and all our work. It was chaotic and messy. Add on top of that the new management all had their own ideas they wanted to implement. Different ways to make the team âwork more efficientlyâ. Which was causing delays in all the work and unnecessary stress to all the employees.
I had worked no less than 13 hours a day for the last two weeks, even going in on the weekend to make up some work. And I wasnât the only one. The office was never empty at this point.
I was exhausted and ready to collapse at any second. So, I finished up my current project and packed up to go home. Determined to take tomorrow off no matter what. I wasnât going to answer any calls or texts or anything at all. I earned this day off with my own blood, sweat, and many, many tears!
When I walked into my room to find my favorite plant destroyed and the dirt from the pot all over my bedroom floor, I was ready to burst into hysterics.
Cheese was laying among the dirt without a care in the world, grooming his paws. Pieces of my precious plant leaves were scattered around him like he had shredded it then rolled around in its corpse.
I sighed and dropped my bag onto the floor. So very done with this week.
I loved my boys dearly, but ill be damned if I let them go back on this grounding! I am done with this bratty behavior from Cheese! He had never messed with my plant before, and I donât know why he decided today of all days was a good day to break my heart.
I spent years carefully propagating that plant over and over, so it was nice and long and bushy. It took several years to get it as amazing as it had been. It was my pride and joy and I loved to spend time carefully trimming off the dead leaves and making sure it stayed green and healthy.
I even went so far as to kick Cheese out of my room and shut the door. He would run out anyways when I turned on the vacuum to clean up the mess he made, but it still made me feel a little better to let him know just how upset I was with him.
It took 30 minutes to clean up the plant corpse, and I carefully went through the remains to see if there was anything I could use to try and propagate and start the process all over again. I liked bringing a little green into my city life and I am just stubborn enough to be willing to start from scratch to get it again.
Chan came home somewhere near the end of clean up to help before engulfing me in a hug and curling up on my bed with me.
âGo to sleep. You havenât slept at all this week, and you are exhausted.â he said lowly tucking my head under his chin and rubbing my back.
âI have things I need to get done.â But I did not move to leave his warm embrace, body automatically relaxing under the weight of his arms around me and the sound of his heartbeat and breathing under my ear.
Chan hummed making my head vibrate slightly and eardrum tickle. âIt will still be there when you wake up. Sleep.â
With a deep, drawn-out sigh I gave in to his gentle demands. Let someone else take care of me for a few minutes. It felt good, and I was secretly glad that Chan came home early just to make sure I was okay.
I woke up a couple hours later, still in Chans arms as he played on his phone behind my back quietly. I could hear the others chatting and banging around in the front entry as they got in.
With a deep yawn I stretched before curling back up into Chan, not yet ready to be awake. Chan for his part left me be, running my back idly and kissing the top of my head for a few minutes while I woke up.
âYou really upset your mother today, Cheese. Why are you being mean to her?â I could hear Lino near my still closed door as he most likely picked Cheese up for his first cuddles of the night. âShe grounded you and everything! You have some sucking up to do.â His voice got quieter as he walked away from the door.
âYou ready to get up yet? You know they are just going to come in here in a few minutes if you donât go out.â Chan asked quietly petting my hair. I whined in response.
Chan allowed me to hide for a few minutes more before getting us both up and moving.
I think it was more likely that Cheese was screaming his dislike for the terms of his grounding. He hadnât had any treats all day and he had been stuck in the house with no special trips or car rides to speak of. He was upset.
But the boys have been respecting my declaration of grounding as far as I was aware. Even if Lino kept giving me dirty looks when Cheese came up to him and started meowing pathetically.
I lasted for the entire day before my anger wore off and the meows and glared started melting my heart and resolve.
âFine! Heâs not grounded anymore! Go crazy!â I snapped finally. Immediately all 4 boys dived for the treat tin we had sitting on the kitchen island making me roll my eyes. They were so whipped for my cat it was crazy,
Cheese spent the rest of the night getting treat after treat and going feral.
Cheese had spent half the night zooming around the apartment keeping me up. Apparently, no one else was bothered by it though. Bin aside, no one had even mentioned it.
But it was no wonder that he was all cuddly and sleepy with Chan now. He wore himself out being hyped up on cat treats!
At least be probably burned all the extra calories those treats had.
Still Chans comment brought a smile to my lips. Cheese has saved me many times over the years. He had been there when I was sad to cuddle me and loved me to cheer me up. He had been there to make me laugh when I wanted to scream. And he was there when I was scared and alone in the big city, away from home and my parents for the first time in my life and at a complete loss at what to do.
And lastly, he brought me, Chan, Bin, Lino, and Hyune together.
A/N: Two in one night! Though I feel like this one is kinda short too so yeah. Also, I changed the order this original post was in to fit the storyline a bit better. I hope you don't mind.
Thank you for reading and interacting. Or just reading or just interacting, if thatâs your thing. I hope you enjoyed this little Cheese adventure!
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đ¨đ°đłđ¨đŚđ°đśđ´ - anakin skywalker x fem! reader (part three)
pairing: anakin skywalker x fem! reader
wordcount: 9.4k
warnings: no use of y/n, mentions of EDs, body dysmorphia/body issues, fainting, mistreatment, hospitalization, crying, reader being emotional, anakin being a reckless driver, half proofread bc i got lazy (will probably edit another day, its late af as im posting this)
rating: 18+
author's note: hi, i'm so sorry for the delay on chapter three! life got really busy and i found myself not having enough time to write, but now life has settled and i finally had enough time and inspo to finish this chapter. i literally forced myself to stay home this weekend and finish this chapter bc i'll be traveling this week and won't have time to write. i hope i made up for it by making this chapter longer than usual!! let me know if u have any questions or comments. reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated xx
creds to saradika for the divider!
You originally had no plans this weekend, but after much persuasion from one of your closest friends, you decided to attend some party that a friend of a friend was hosting. It was better than being locked up in your apartment all weekend, letting the thoughts of Anakin consume your mind and slowly pick away at your sanity. After all, it gave you the chance to dress up prettily, consume free hooch, and maybe find someone to get under and help you get over Anakin.Â
The water in your porcelain sonic tub was doused in a fragrant Crimson Jelly Spire oil and mixed with the fragile petals of a Jasmine flower. The combination of spice and sweetness left your skin refreshed and smelling good. The midday light of Corscant filtered through the windows and cast the nearly all-ivory refresher in an ethereal lighting. The water swished around you as you hugged your knees to your chest and laid the side of your cheek on top of them. You trained your eyes on the refresherâs ceilings before blowing a loose piece of hair out of your face. You ran this bath about an hour ago, but you had yet to get up because your mind was occupied by him. Staying away from Anakin was harder than you anticipated. Your mind recalled, for about the hundredth time today, two instances that happened over the last few rotations.
The first instance with Anakin left you unnerved and unconfident in your self-proclamation to stay away from him.Â
The benefit concert was only a few rotations away now, so you started practicing. Even though you were only performing songs that you already performed and rehearsed before, it still didnât hurt to practice even more. This was going to be broadcast across the Republic, so you had to be perfect.Â
You holed yourself up in your practice room for the majority of the day. The only time you saw Anakin was in the morning when your protocol droid prepared breakfast. You told Anakin that you would be practicing with your team of dancers for the day, so there was no need for him to stay with you all day. You encouraged him to take the day off and reassured him that your practice suite was located in a safe building with 24/7 security watch. Anakin insisted that he at least drop you off. He could take the time to stop by the Temple and check in on Ahsokaâs training.
That was hours ago. It was nearing your twelfth hour of continuous practice and you were exhausted, to say the least. Your vocal cords felt raw from the amount of singing you did today, and the legs in your muscles were spasming from the constant repetition of your dancing. You dismissed your team members around two hours ago, you didnât think they should be subjected to your perfectionist tendencies. One of them, a Pantoran girl named Chione, voiced her concern for you. Chione was one of your oldest dancers, she joined your team during your first mini-tour around a few Core planets and has never left your team since. You considered her one of your closest friends.
âAre you positive that youâre okay to practice on your own? Youâve barely had any food today. I donât want you fainting with no one to help,â voiced Chione in a dulcet tone. She was always looking out for your well-being, especially because she knew how hard you could be on yourself. Chione was a source of bright life in your life and one of the most genuine people youâve ever known.
âIâll be fine, Chione. I had a heavy breakfast, and Iâve made sure to eat energy pudding bars and stay hydrated during our breaks,â you reassured your friend. She looked unconvinced, but you rushed her out of the room with a kiss on her cheek and a promise to send her a message once you arrived home.
Now that you had the studio to yourself, you decided to go through a few more drills and focus on the routines that you struggled with the most. You werenât always a perfectionist. Back when you lived on Barâleth, you were neither the smartest student in your grade nor the dumbest studentâyou were perfectly average. You didnât feel the need to engage in your classmatesâ cutthroat competition or push yourself more than you required. Even when it came to your musical prowess, you sang and studied instruments because you enjoyed it and it brought you happiness. If you were stuck on learning a certain composition or hitting the right note, you would always put in your best effort, but you never lost any sleep over it. You knew that if you were to put pressure on yourself, it would take the enjoyment away. Music was yours, without any strings, expectations, or attachments to soil your relationship with it.
That swiftly changed once you were signed a record deal with one of Coruscantâs most famous record labels, Interstellar Records. You didnât even know it was possible to become famous at the intergalactic level. Most of the artists you listened to on Barâleth were artists from your planet. The galaxyâs population is enormousâCoruscant alone has around three trillion people! You never imagined that your name would known anywhere besides Barâleth. Yet, luck seemed to be on your side on that one fateful day.
The story of how you were discovered is quite simple. Your school hosted an annual festival for the anniversary of the formation of Barâlethâs government. Itâs a joyous holiday where students are encouraged to promote Barâlethâs culture through food, traditional customs, and performances. Families and regular citizens flock to the school to join and watch the students at the festival. Itâs a day you look forward to every year. Each class section is assigned to a particular event. The graduating class of that year is always assigned to open the festival with a choir rendition of Barâlethâs national anthem. You were asked to lead the choir since the music instructor knew of your talent, which meant that you would be the main singer. Little did you know that one of the executives from Interstellar Records was at the school festival. One of his nephews attended your school, so that was his reason for being there. As soon as you got off the stage and the festivities started, you were immediately pulled to the side by your schoolâs headmaster who introduced you to the executive. He spoke to you about your talent, and how he believed that you could make something of yourself with proper training and a recording label to manage you.
That was five years ago, and a lot has changed since then. After finishing your last year of government-mandated education, you moved to Coruscant and began your career as a professional artist. Life suddenly flipped. Your upbringing on Barâleth was humble. You came from a decent, middle-class family and lived in a standard home. Suddenly, you lived in a fancy Coruscant apartment with the former senator Sheev Palpatine, and you were always surrounded by a team of managers who dictated your schedule from morning to night. You were given vocal training, attended dance classes, and sat through etiquette and media training courses all while trying to produce your debut record. The first year of your career was marked by sleepless nights due to the sheer amount of activities on your daily agenda. Many times throughout the first year, you debated if this was a smart decision.
You continuously pushed yourself through it because dreams werenât achieved by themselves. You had to work to make your dreams come true. This was just part of the process. At least thatâs what you said to reason with your inner self to avoid any feelings of regret and anxiety. Yet, throughout that first year, you were also exposed to a darker side of the industry that you werenât equipped to handle as a barely legal adult. When you signed that contract with the label, you also signed away any right to individuality and personal autonomy.Â
You had a certain image to uphold as a public figure and this image was controlled entirely by your label. You were like clay that they could bend at their willâconstantly being prodded andÂ
molded until you were nothing short of perfection. Your clothes were preselected each day, hair was only done in styles the label wanted, and pre-answered scripts were given for interviews. Worst of all, even your diet was dictated by the label. How much you ate, what you ate, and even when you ate was all at the discretion of the executives. They even went so far as to weigh you weekly to make sure you were staying on top of your weight. If you werenât at their goal weight, they subjected you to intense periods of exercise. It was an abusive cycle that fundamentally altered your self-esteem. Slowly, you became a shell of the person you once were. You didnât find enjoyment in your career anymore, something you were once so passionate and excited about. The harsh regime of your management extinguished that flame. All that mattered to you was if you were meeting your labelâs expectations. You were consumed by the weight of their expectations. You drowned under their judgment, and each criticism was like a blaster shot straight to your heart. The executives werenât satisfied no matter what you did. Practice hours went from a few hours of your day to half of your day. You slowly cut contact with your friends from home and lied to your family when they asked how you were doing. You couldnât bear to tell them the truth. You were miserable.
Eventually, the constant overwork and abuse by the label became too much for your body to handle and one day you fainted in the middle of practice. The medic at the medcenter informed you that your body shut due to exhaustion and malnutrition. Due to you being one year away from being a legal adult by the Republicâs standards, the medic was forced to report this incident to the authorities. Holonet tabloids somehow got a hold of this information and leaked it on their celebrity gossip pages. This prompted an investigation from the Intergalactic Federation of Musicians, the trade guild dedicated to musicians, performers, and songwriters, who determined that your label was not properly upholding their side of the contract. The IFM fined Interstellar Records and voided your contract, which left you free and away from their abuse.
It took you a few months to recover from the whole incident. The best course of action was to move back to Barâleth while you healed. Your career didnât stop there, however. Right before the situation, your debut album was released. Hence, you were practicing for upcoming promotions the label scheduled you for. The release of your debut album was quietâuntil your face ended up on the Holonetâs hot spot after the initial news broke. The people of Coruscant, and even some people from neighboring planets, pitied you. You never intended for anything to be this way, but the story that the tabloids ran against you worked in your favor. You, a young fresh-faced, and doe-eyed girl from a smaller Core planet, were a victim of the cruel entertainment industry. Everyone blamed the label, rightfully so, but the amount of support and influx of love from Coruscantâs citizens catapulted you into fame and stardom. The public wanted to see you win (until they didnât). Other recording labels were knocking at your door, trying to get you to sign with their company You were hesitant, not wanting to experience the same trauma. Senator Palpatine offered his help in negotiating the contract bids as an apology for not noticing what you were going through before. After all, you were still living with him while you were still signed to Interstellar. You didnât blame him as you hid your problems well. Regardless, it all worked out in the end as you were signed to a new label, under terms and conditions you saw fit. Four years have passed since you signed onto Nebula Music Group. Your fame instantaneously increased after signing with them. Gido was assigned your new manager, and you were extremely thankful for him because he played a major role in ensuring you were properly treated and supported by the label. Nebula Music Group had more trust and faith in you than Interstellar, so they allowed you more authority and creative liberties in the music-making process. Because of this, you could produce authentic, critically acclaimed, popular albums. Your last album, Last Words of a Shooting Star, broke a record with the highest sales of sound slugs in history for a female artist. You did mini tours around the inner and mid-Core planets. Despite your initial hardships, life was turning out better than you envisioned. You had a second chance at your dream. You liked to consider yourself fully healed from the situation, but that was far from the truth.
Take now for example.
In moments like this, when itâs only yourself and the mirror, your mind canât help but flashback to the horrible treatment you suffered at the hands of those people. You know that no matter how much therapy or how far removed from the situation you were, a part of you was still stuck in the past.Â
Chione was right to be concerned. This wasnât the first time you stayed behind and continued practicing on your own, often to the point of exhaustion and breaking down. Sheâs caught you in these moments before, where you were so focused on perfection that you failed to take care of yourself properlyâstaying dehydrated, skipping meals, and not sleeping just so you could devote more time to practice. You would gladly damage yourself for it. You couldnât help it. Insecurity was embedded in your bones. You knew that as a young female in the industry, you had a short shelf life (or at least thatâs what your previous label hammered into your brain). Once the industry deemed you expired, you would be nothing. Thus, you needed to be so perfect, that even past your expiration date, people would still want you. You were nothing without desirability.
You looked at yourself with hard eyes in the mirror. Your eyes landed on the deep, heavy-set eye bags under your eyes. A scowl appeared on your face. You then moved your eyes to your arms, which never seemed skinny enough for you. A knot formed in your throat. Lastly, you laid your eyes upon your stomach. No matter how many meals you skipped, what diet fads you went on, or what food you prematurely threw away to avoid finishing, your stomach never looked the way you wanted. A sigh escaped your throat.
It was futile to worry about these things now. At a time so late in the day, nothing good would come of it. You inhaled and exhaled breathing as if you were absorbing and releasing all of your previous negative energy. Putting on a fake smile that didnât reach your eyes, you gave yourself one last look before continuing to practice.
The song you were currently dancing to belonged to the glimmick genreâa genre of music that was associated with frenzied sounds and rapid beats. As an artist, you were most comfortable with the sparkle-bop and pop genres. That was your domain, and it was the genre that made you famous. However, you wanted you wanted to experiment on your recent album to get out of your artistic comfort zone and reach a wider audience, so you included songs of different genres, with glimmick being one of them. Due to the nature of the glimmick genre, your song âAtom of the Pneuma,â required an intricate, fast-paced dance with movements that you were not familiar with. The choreography for this dance was sharp and pristine, contorting and bending your body to resemble straight, angular lines. Most of your choreography featured lighter dance moves, with flowy movement and softer forms. It was the reason you stayed later than the rest of your teamâyou wanted to hone on this particular routine before the benefit concert.
Your legs were bent, hands placed on top of your thighs as you caught your breath and prepared to replay the song just a few more times before calling ending the day. You got into position. The song started and filled the room with a pounding, rich techno bass that bounced off the walls. You began to move your body to the beat while your right arm was simultaneously moving it to create a pattern that extended from your body outward. Your head followed the beat as well, which left you slightly dizzy. You learned to block out any negative sensations when dancing, a practice you learned from the days when you danced on little sleep and little food. The unpleasant sensation went ignored until you spun your body around and lost your balance resulting in an unceremonious fall toward the hard wooden floor. You placed your arms to cushion your fall out of reflex, but the fall never came. A pair of large, calloused hands were placed on your waist, holding you steady. The hands gently guided you toward the floor, forcing you to sit.Â
You raised your face toward the ceiling, trying to see who it was that miraculously saved you from your fall. The bright lights of the practice room invaded your eyesight and you could only make out the fuzzy outline of the person. Tiny, black dots swirled your vision as you tried to regain your composure. The feeling was overwhelming. You could feel your breath quicken as you tried to calm yourself. This wasnât the first time you have fainted from overdoing it, but it was never any easier each time. You hated the feeling, you hated the coldness that washed over your body, you hated how your vision failed you, and you hated the dull panging inside your head.Â
You shut your eyes, barely focusing on the person next to you. Your nails dug into your palm, the pain distracting you from the uncomfortable feeling and forcing you back into the present. After a few more moments, you opened your eyes again and turned your vision to the only other figure in the room. You could feel the warmth of their body next to yoursâthe warmth overpowering the previous coldness your body felt.Â
âAnakin,â you whispered.Â
âYou okay there, pop star?â Anakin softly replied. âYou almost took a nasty fall, you could have sprained your wrist or hurt your head. We wouldnât want that before the big day, now would we?â
His brown curls gently caressed his face as he looked down at you. He was kneeling over you, eyes scanning over your body to make sure you were okay. You didnât even hear him enter. How did he get inside? Access to this room was only allowed by people with logged fingerprints and/or other DNA indicators.
âJust give me a minute please.â You still felt lightheaded.
Anakin stood up and walked toward your practice bag and grabbed the container of water that was sitting next to it. He then proceeded toward you, sat next to you, and put the tip of the container to your lips. You titled your head back as you drank. After a couple of gulps, you answered Anakinâs question.Â
âI apologize if I frightened you. I must have overdone it and got lightheaded because of it. I assure you that I feel better now and can continue my practice,â You tried to stand up before Anakinâs hand caught your wrist and dragged you back toward the ground. Your response was cold and robotic. Thatâs because you were in a different mode right now, your more âprofessionalâ mode which consisted of one thing onlyâto never give up until you were blue in the fact. It was ingrained in you from your past training that even if you felt like complete bantha shit, you couldnât stop practicing just because you felt slightly off. Perfection could never be achieved if you stopped every single time you felt bad.
âJust take a moment to relax. You nearly fainted. Youâre only going to hurt yourself more if you continue to practice in this state,â Anakin reasoned. He pitied you because he knew the exact look of determination on your face.Â
âI canât stop. The benefit is only a few rotations from now. I have to get this routine down, or else Iâll look like a fool on stage,â you argued back. You turned, but Anakin kept a firm hold on your wrist.Â
âStop being stubborn and just take a quick break.â The seriousness in Anakinâs tone made you want to cry. His voice projected across the now silent practice room. You were already feeling bad from almost fainting and now you were being emotional too. You slipped to the ground and hung your head low as tears welled up in your eyes.
âI-Iâm sorry,â your voice wavered. Putting in this state always puts you in a weird headspace. You swallowed the tight knot that formed in your throat. You didnât want to cry in front of Anakin.
Anakin noticed the waver of your voice and how you refused to meet his eyes. He didnât mean for his voice to come out so harsh, but he didnât want you to hurt yourself either.Â
âItâs okay. You have nothing to apologize for. I didnât mean for my voice to sound that way,â Anakin hesitated before putting a hand on your shoulder for comfort. He felt slightly awkward. He didnât know you very well yet, so he didnât want to invade your personal space, but he recognized that you needed some comfort.
âYou should leave. You donât have to deal with me. I know the Chancellor asked you to watch over me, but this is too much. I promise Iâm fine. This isnât the first time this has happened.â You donât know why you let that small detail split to Anakin. Perhaps you just wanted someone else to know that you werenât fully healed from your past. You tried to do your best to hide it from the rest of your team, only Chione being the most knowledgeable on the subject.Â
âIâm not going to leave you. Itâs late and you should be heading back to your apartment. I came to pick you up. Gido said you hadnât arrived home yet and that I could find you here.â
You sighed at Anakinâs response. There were a few moments of silence before you began speaking again. âIâm sorry. Youâre just being a decent person, and Iâm here trying to push you away. I donât mean it.â You took a deep breath, âI just get in a weird headspace whenever Iâm practicing sometimes.â
Anakin didnât want to pry, but he could tell there was a deeper meaning behind your words.Â
You started speaking before your brain could even comprehend what you were saying. You were desperate to let out all of your negative feelings. âDo you ever feel like youâre not good enough sometimes? Like the whole world is waiting for you to trip and fall?â You glanced at Anakin with glassy eyes.
You continued to tirade. âI know my life may look glamorous, and it is. But no one ever talks about the dark side of being in the public eye, especially as a female. They treat you as if youâre some spectacle for their entertainment as if youâre not a living being with consciousness and feelings. Even those who are supposed to be there for you end up on the same side as the critics and haters.â Your chest was now heaving up and down as a result of your heightened emotion. âEven when I work my ass off to be perfect, so I can meet their standards and so they can finally shut the kriff up, they find another thing to comment on just to tear me down.â
âYes, I understand the feeling.â And Anakin truly did understand. Anakin wanted to comfort you, he felt empathetic as he watched you cry. Do you remember how I told you how I joined the Jedi at a later age than most?â You nodded as you sniffled. âThe Jedi council didnât want to take me in at firstâŚbut Qui-Gon convinced them to take me in because he saw potential in me, potential as the Chosen one. Master Qui-Gon died before he had the chance to train me, so his Padawan, my former master, requested that he take me up as his Padawan. No Padawan had ever been trained at such a young age, but the council accepted his wish as a dying request from Qui-Gon.â Anakin still recalls that dayâhe was waiting outside the councilâs roomâin wonder at the grand pillars of the Jedi Temple. It was so grandiose and had a sense of holiness, two things he never witnessed on Tatooine.
âI had to work twice as hard as the other younglings to get up to speed. Most of them already had years of experience with the Jedi, they knew how to properly wield the force and the Jedi scriptures were ingrained into their beings by that point. Eventually, I surpassed the younglings and surpassed the expectations of the council. But even then, the council has never fully trusted me. I feel theyâre always scrutinizing me, watching for my next mistake too. Iâm not the most conventional Jedi, and I donât always play by the books, but Iâm a Jedi through and thorough. No matter how many times I prove that the council, or even my former master, they donât believe in me. Weâve been fighting this war for Maker knows how long, and they still refuse to make me master, despite being the poster boy for this war.âÂ
âWow, AnakinâŚI didnât expect that from you.â You honestly didnât expect to find yourself relating to Anakin, you were on completely different sides of society. How could you, a pop star, relate to a Jedi? It comforted you in a way, to know that you werenât the only person to go through feelings of inadequacy and frustration. âHow do you deal with it?â
âWhen I was a Padawan in training, I didnât deal with it most healthily. I was snarky (he still is), and rebelled against my masterâs teachings. I was stubborn, hoping that if I showed off my power, I could finally be appreciated by the council. I was wrong to do that, itâs how I lost my right arm.â Anakin then slipped off his glove to show you the silver mechanical prosthetic. You gasped, not expecting to learn this information. Anakin continued, âI still like to show off, but as I matured, I realized that I didnât have to define myself by the approval of others. I know that I am capable, and I will keep working hard until the council recognizes that.âÂ
âYou donât deserve that. I know we only just met, but Iâve only heard remarkable things about you. The Republic wouldnât stand a chance against the Separatists against you. I mean no offense to the other Jedi, theyâre all vital to the war effort too, but we need someone who takes risks and isnât afraid to be unorthodox. I donât know much about the Jedi, but I know one day youâll make a great Master.â
This heart-to-heart chat with Anakin was unexpected but welcomed. You appreciated that he was honest and open with youâsomeone who was practically a stranger still. He didnât have to come all this way to pick you up nor did Anakin need to comfort you in an hour of need, but he did. However, Anakin didnât let the conversation marinate too long, suddenly embarrassed at the information he shared with you.Â
Anakin stood up from the ground and reached his hand toward you. You accepted his hand and Anakin pulled you up as well. âAre you feeling better now?â
Despite the dried tear marks on your face and the incoming headache you were about to face, you told Anakin that you did feel better. You werenât ready to divulge your entire past with Anakin just yet, but maybe one day the two of you could become friends. Did that count as an attachment? You werenât sure.Â
âLetâs get you home, pop star.â
âThanks, General.â
The second instance with Anakin was in an unconventional situation, but it brought a smile to your face when you recalled it. It was only the fifth day of him being assigned as your bodyguard. The incident at the practice room happened on his third day there. You wanted to speak to him more after that night, but you found yourself pulled in all directions by your management team. You supposed you should be thankfulâyou promised to stay away from Anakin. The only issue is that you didnât want to stay away from him anymore.
Anakin walked into your living room after talking with Obi-Wan through his commlink. Obi-Wan was updating Anakin on his most recent diplomatic mission on a nearby planet. A heated conversation was taking place between you and Gido.Â
âYouâre being ridiculous! Itâs not even that scary and you canât keep on relying on others to transport you places,â Gido said as he pinched his nose with a hand, a look of frustration on his face.
âOf course I can! Iâm rich. I can just hire chauffeurs!â you taunted in reply. You knew your argument wasnât sound, but you just wanted to vex Gido at this point. Deep down, you knew your manager was right.Â
âWhat about when youâre old and retired? Whoâs going to help you then? Certainly not I. Iâll be dead!â He pointed an accusatory finger at you.
A glare embraced your face at Gidoâs words. You scoffed before turning your body, not realizing that Anakin entered the room. He had to stop sneaking in like that. Those damn Jedi.Â
Anakin looked at you two with a curious look. Having joined the conversation toward its end, Anakin did not know what you two were talking about. Heat ran up your neck and toward your face as Gido explained with a deadpan expression.
âMy dear friend here does not have her Republic driving license, despite being an adult. Iâve been telling her to get her license for years, but she always manages to procrastinate. And every time I tell her, she brushes me off her shoulder.â He pointed at you with an accusing thumb.
With a high-pitched tone, you defended yourself, âI know how to drive!... Sort of. Look, I just donât like driving. The skylanes are always chaotic and the last time I visited the Ministry of Transport, it took me hours to update my identification and the workers were extremely rude. Iâm not going back there if I donât have to!âÂ
âAnd I keep telling her, she needs to get her license. Kid, donât be stubborn. Wouldnât you feel more independent if you could drive around yourself?â
âOh, stop bullshitting me, Gido. You just donât want to drive me around because you hate the sky lanes as much as I do!â It was true. Gido groaned and mumbled every time he had to drive you places, complaining that he wouldnât need to take you to run your errands if you had your own license. You couldnât help itâyou enjoyed dragging Gido along and you knew he secretly enjoyed spending time with you.Â
Anakin had a solution to both of your problems. Driving was one of his fortes. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka would disagree, but Anakin knew he was the best pilot in the galaxy. Yes, Anakin could be reckless, but there was never a landing or move he couldnât pull off. The innate talent he had as a young boy flourished when he moved to Coruscant and began his Padawan training. Having access to much more refined and newer technology allowed Anakin to perfect the craft of piloting.Â
âI can teach you how to drive. Iâm the best pilot in the galaxy.â The seriousness on Anakinâs face indicated that he wasnât joking.Â
You gulped. The heating sensation returned. You began to shake your head from side to side with wide eyes. Your hands moved in front of you as if to mimic the movement of your head, waving off Anakinâs solution.Â
âI donât think that necessary,â you protested.Â
âActually, I think itâs very necessary. Only the Maker knows how long youâll push this off. Anakin, would you mind doing this favor? I have a few meetings with the company, we need to finalize the last details for the benefit. Feel free to use her airspeeder parked outsideâitâs one of the newest models,â Gido stated.
Anakin grinned. He really did miss his yellow Eta-2 Starfighter, but he would never deny the chance to operate new technology.
Thatâs how you found yourself outside sitting in a neatly parked J12 Twin-pod on your apartmentâs landing platform. The airspeeder belonged to you, though youâd never driven it before. The airspeeder was one of the newer models on the market. The surface was wrapped with a special pink-tinted chrome wrap making the car look sleek and expensive. Gido, your chauffeur, and occasionally Chione, were the only people to ever drive it.
You looked out the window and saw Anakin approaching the passenger side of the airspeeder. âKarking hell, Iâm really doing this,â you thought. You detested driving. It made your palms sweaty and shot your nervous system. To make matters worse, you would be stuck in the confined airspeeder with Anakin! So much for trying to keep your proximity from him. You were both scared and embarrassed. Here was Anakin, the most famous Jedi at the moment, teaching pathetic you how to properly drive. Surely he had much better, more important things to doâlike lead a war planning meeting or something.Â
The passenger door opened, and Anakin effortlessly climbed into the passenger seat and sat down. Your back stiffened, and suddenly the airspeeder seemed tighter. You shot an uneasy glance toward Anakin, who only smiled in excitement.
After the other night in the dance room where you had that conversation with Anakin, you felt less apprehensive around him. He was more human to you and less of a mysterious figure, less of a pretty face who made you nervous. You still found yourself mousy and internally reeling in his presence, but Anakin was becoming akin to a friend. You started conversing more during mealtimes, slowly getting to know each other.Â
âAlright, pop star, first weâre going to start with the controls. You have to fire up the engine by flipping this red switch. After the flip is switched, check your mirrors to ensure you can view directly behind and on your sides. Be careful with your blind spots. You donât want to get rear-ended because you forgot to check for it. Coruscant sky lanes are no joke. With an airspeeder as pretty as yours, Iâd hate to see it get destroyed. â Anakin pointed toward a red button near the right side of the console, located next to the steering gear. âYou got that?â Anakin questioned with one eyebrow raised.Â
Once again, Anakin felt your energy through the force. It was way calmer compared to the first day, but he could still feel your energy buzzing. Perhaps you realized that his presence was nothing to fear.Â
âGo on. Turn it on,â Anakin commanded. Butterflies erupted in your stomach when you heard the baritone voice command you. It reverberated several times in your head. Anakinâs voice was manly, and extremely attractive. You felt jealous that his soldiers got to hear that voice every day.Â
You reached toward the switch and flipped it upward with a shaky hand. The airspeeder lit up from inside, indicating it had come to life. There wasnât an initial turboâthis was one of the main features of this model. It was supposed to fly seamlessly through the air. You placed your hands on each side of the steering gears. Not knowing what to do next, you looked at Anakin for guidance.Â
Anakin stood up to stand directly behind you. He reached out his arms and placed his hands on top of yours. He then leaned down to the side of your face and explained, âIâm going to show you how you properly place your hands on the steering gear and how to move it while youâre driving.â Anakin moved your hands toward the middle of the gear.Â
âHave a tight grip on the gear. The tighter the grip, the more control you have over the speeder. The higher sky lanes get more wind traction, so itâs especially important to have control in those lanes.â You nodded to show you were following. Anakin suddenly turned the gear harshly to the left, âDonât do what I just did. When you turn the gear harshly, you jerk the speeder. If youâre switching lanes or turning a corner, switch on your indicators so other drivers know which way youâre going.â Of course, Anakin never followed his own advice, but for your sake, he played it by the books.Â
It all felt too intimate. Your head was in a rush, which probably wasnât the best state to be in while you were about to drive. Anakinâs hands engulfed yours. The difference between his callused hands and your perfectly manicured hands drove you crazy. You could see the veins exposed on his ungloved hand. The sight of the green veins made your stomach turn warm. Much like his face, Anakinâs hand was sculpted by the Maker themself. Not even the finest marble statues could compare to the piece of art that was Anakin Skywalker.Â
â...Lastly, when youâre making a turn, do not turn the gear all the way around. The speeder has a built-in function that automatically rotates it. If you turn it all the way, youâll make a sharp turn, ruining the internal tachyon drive regulator. Do you think you can handle this? Gido told me about the last time you tried to drive.â The last time you tried to drive, it resulted in several fines and almost caused a crashâthe tabloids were on your ass for weeks after that.
You completely spaced out while Anakin was speaking, too focused on your inner thoughts. Hearing the teasing tone of his voice brought you back. You hated being undermined. You would prove to Anakin, and Gido, that you can drive perfectly fine and that you have nothing to be scared of.Â
âI can you assure that not only can I handle this, but youâll be amazed at how quickly I learn,â you sassed Anakin back. You were lying. You couldnât handle this, yet you couldnât look like a ditz in front of Anakin.Â
âLetâs start flying. Donât be nervous. Iâm right here if you need me.âÂ
Anakin sat back in his seat and observed you as you started maneuvering the aircraft. He directed you toward a sky lane to merge into. âIâm going to guide you to a specific path where the air traffic isnât so busy. It should be easier for you to fly since there isnât as much chaos.âÂ
You kept a strong grip on the steering gear. Coruscant Prime, Coruscantâs only sun, was shining bright. The Weather Control Network did a splendid job at keeping Coruscantâs weather optical todayâit wasnât too windy and the sky was clear. You took it as a positive sign.Â
The airspeeder flew steadily through the air. Anakin was surprised. The way Gido described your driving, he assumed that he would need to take control of the speeder earlier. You werenât doing a terrible job so far. Aside from the occasional jerk or harsh turn, you managed not to crash so far.Â
Maybe Anakin thought too soon. âWatch out! Watch out to your right!,â Anakin exclaimed. You tried switching lanes, but the speeder behind you wasnât slowing down to let you in. You narrowly avoided an accident at the last second by going back into your lane.
âOopsâI didnât mean that,â you said with a giggle and a shrug of your shoulders. âHow am I doing so far?â
âYouâre not doing too bad, with some more practice, you should be able to get your license in no time. Why do you hate driving so much?â
While still focusing on the sky in front of you, you explained to Anakin, âI love Coruscant and all that it has to offer. But the sky lanes in Barâleth are much calmer and less congested. I grew up used to that. Even after all these years of living here, I still canât stomach the driving here. Itâs horrendous! I much prefer to have someone else drive, that way the pressure wonât be on me. I know Gidoâs right, I need my license, but can you blame me? Weâve already witnessed almost two accidents! How did you get so good at flying?â
âIâve always wanted to be a pilot since I was a little boy. I used to tinker in the garage, building and modifying parts for my own podracer. I even won the Boonta Eve Classic on Tatooine,â answered Anakin.
âWhy did you want to become a pilot?â you wondered. Anakin seemed like like an intentional type of personâhis actions, thoughts, and opinions were direct reflections of him and what he felt inside.Â
Not many people outside of the Jedi temple knew Anakinâs true originsâthat he was a former slave. The first ten years of his life were filtered solely through this lens, it came to impact much of his opinions on life, politics, and society. He didnât like speaking about it and avoided the topic as much as he could. Anakin hated his life as a slave and he hated slavery with every fibre of his being. However, Anakin especially hated speaking about this past life now because every time he did, he was reminded of how he willingly chose to leave his mother on Tatooine. Anakin felt like he was the reason she died. He wasnât strong enough or fast enough to save her from the Tuskens, but maybe, just maybe, if he stayed with his mother instead of leaving with Qui-Gon, Shmi Skywalkerâs death could have been avoided.Â
Anakin didnât respond to your question. When you looked at him, his face was scrunched up in a deep thought.Â
You were about to say something else when you saw something approaching the speeder from the corner of your eye. You quickly glanced to your left, only to spot a human male nearly hanging off the side of his airspeeder with a cam held up to his eye. You groaned out loud which caught Anakinâs attention. They came at the worst time possible. You were trying to learn how to drive for Kriffâs sake!
âThe paparazzi are following! Canât they just leave me aloneâ you ranted. You needed them to get off your trail, fast. You had a complex relationship with the paparazzi. You hated the way they invaded your privacy and fed the Holonet tabloids with material to gossip about. For every bad picture, outrageous rumor, and leaked news, there was a paparazzi behind it. They caused you so much pain. At the same time, the very nature of your career relied on the paparazzi to dispel news and reveal your current state of affairs through pictures. They were unofficial members of your public relations team. Every celebrity knew that they needed the paparazzi as much as they hated them. You couldnât imagine what ridiculous headline they would come up with now.
The man got closer and closer to your speeder as he tried to record you on his cam. He was mere inches away from crashing into the side of your speeder. You started to panic and your hands lost your tight grip as you started to tremble. Even the slightest movement to the left would cause a crash, potentially sending both of your speeders tumbling below.Â
âAnakin, what do I do? I donât know what to do! Theyâre too close,â you yelped. Any closer and the paparazziâs camera would touch your speederâs window.Â
âStay calm, pop star. I got this.â Anakinâs tone was cocky. He had something up his sleeve. This wasnât his first high-speed chase, and it certainly wouldnât be his last. Anakin switched into General mode. His hands swiftly moved across the dashboard as he pressed a multitude of buttons and flipped several switches.Â
âWhat are you doing?!â You hated how high-pitched your voice sounded, the fear slipping out of your voice a squeak.Â
âRelax. Iâm just taking control of the speeder. This speeder model is programmed so that in case of emergencies, the co-passager can take control of the speeder and drive it.â A panel opened on the console and an additional steering gear emerged into view. Anakin gripped the gear and turned it to the right. The speeder lurched to the right, putting more distance between you and the paparazzi.Â
No longer needed to grip the gear, you turned toward Anakin and shielded yourself by facing your back toward the window. The Holo Net wouldnât be getting anything out of you today. Those insatiable nerfhurders had no boundaries sometimes.Â
âYou better hold on tight. Things are about to get bumpy.â The only way to get these paparazzi off your trail was by speeding up and losing them in the endless zigzags of Coruscant. Anakin wouldnât do anything to jeopardize your safety. He felt his fingertips buzzing with anticipationâthe past few rotations with you have been enjoyable and peaceful, but he needed an outlet for his energy. Ever since the Clone Wars started, Anakin was constantly on the go, so his body and mind were accustomed to this. Fortunately for Anakin, flying was the best outlet for him.Â
âWhat do you mean? Anakin, Iâm begging you. Please donât do anything crazy. I get motion sick-â Your words were cut off as the speeder accelerated. âANAKIN!!!,â you screamed. You then quickly shut your eyes again. You couldnât bear to witness the scene in front of you. Even with your eyes closed, you could tell Anakin was driving significantly faster than what was allowed by the law.Â
The speeder weaved in and out of lanes. At one point, Anakin squeezed in between two speeders before hitting the turbo boosters. The paparazzi were still hot on your trail, but at least they were no longer directly next to you. You finally opened your eyes and saw that you were nearing the retail district, CoCo Town. Suddenly, the speeder nosedived toward the ground and you tightly clung to the gear in front of you for stability. The paparazzi were still chasing you, their speeder also diving below.Â
âAnakin do you have to be so reckless?!,â you shouted as Anakin laughed.Â
âMy apologiesâit was either that or let the paparazzi stalk you. Which one did you prefer? I didnât have time to ask while you were panicking,â he replied in a sarcastic tone. You were about to rebuttal, but Anakin continued talking. âAs soon as I land this on the ground, weâre going to get out and run. Letâs try to lose them in the crowd.â
The speeder lowered onto the ground and Anakin quickly parked the vehicle on a landing platform where several other speeders were parked. The doors unlocked and you both quickly stepped out. Before you could even completely step off, Anakin grabbed you by your waist and lowered you onto the ground. He then grabbed your hand and started running in the opposite direction of the speeder. You looked behind you, only to see the paparazzi had caught up and were now looking for you. After a quick scan, one of their eyes caught yours and they looked toward each other before running in the same direction as you and Anakin.
You could barely think about the paparazzi chasing you down as your mind relished the feeling of Anakinâs hands engulfing your waist. Anakin was a statuesque man, it made sense that his hands would be the same. Your skin burned at the touch. You shook your head to wane off the thoughts and redirect your focus in front of you.Â
Anakinâs back was facing you, his wide shoulders moving up and down as you ran through the crowds together. His curls bounced with each step. You apologized to each person you bumped into, slightly embarrassed to be in a situation like this. Why did this have to happen to you? Couldnât they have picked another celebrity to torment today? You heard from the jogan fruit vine that the Holodrama actress Alexis Cov-Prim was getting out of rehab today. Wouldnât that be a juicer headline than you learning how to drive? You already had one bad story from driving, you didnât need another.Â
Anakin made a sharp turn around and corner and dragged you into a store named âMadame Acanthaâs Emporium.â You kept your head low as Anakin greeted the storekeeper. You didnât want to risk being recognized again. As you looked around and observed the store, you noticed the store sold a variety of womenswear from dresses to accessories. Anakin scanned the store for any suspicious figures before turning towards you.
âGrab something to disguise yourself with. We canât stay in here forever.â You started browsing through the racks of clothes, pulling out a large knitted sweater before walking over to the accessory area and picking out a pair of daytime spectacles and a vibrant magenta wig with a bob cut. Anakin couldnât disguise himself as he was too big for the clothing sold here. That didnât matter as long as you could disguise yourself.Â
You quickly walked over to the changing rooms before switching out your outer layer for the sweater. After putting on the sweater, you grabbed the only elastic on your wrist and tied your hair so the wig could fit on. Once the wig was secured on your head, you put on the daytime spectacles and walked out of the changing rooms. You rushed towards the cashier and quickly asked her to ring up the transaction before throwing your credit chip on the counter. The employee, a humanoid woman of a species you couldnât name, quickly rang up the transaction before handing you a receipt and bidding you a good day.
You turned towards Anakin and asked, âDoes this look alright? Do I look like myself?â
Anakin stepped closer to you and grabbed the sides of your face. He slipped some of the wigâs hair through his fingers before adjusting it so it sat properly on your head. His fingers lingered for a second before he nodded. âI canât even recognize you. Letâs go before they catch up.â
Anakin walked out of the store first and scoped the street. He looked left and right before quickly going back inside. He grabbed you and shoved the both of you behind the first rack of clothes he saw. You were about to protest when you saw the two men from earlier, the one who was recording had his camera by his side. They went up to the shopkeeper at the cashier and began to converse with the lady, most likely asking her if she had seen anyone with the same description as you. While they were distracted, you and Anakin looked at each other and secretly decided to make a run for it.
You both ran out of the store and into an alleyway nearby. You saw the paparazzi running past the alleyway as you were catching your breath. Then, you started to giggle. The whole situation was absurd. You, standing in an alleyway, with a bright wig and sunglassesâobviously a terrible disguiseâand Anakin Skywalker, the most famous Jedi at the moment, dressed in all of his Jedi garb with his lightsaber attached at the hilt.
âWhat are you laughing at?,â Anakin asked, one of his perfectly shaped eyes arched. You must have looked crazy.Â
âIâm laughing at the situation. I look like a clown,â you replied. âLetâs go, Iâm hungry after all that running and chasing. Letâs get something to eatâmy treat.â You then walked out of the alleyway together. Before you stepped into the public view, you turned towards Anakin, âThank you, by the way. I donât know what I would have done without you to save the day.â You gave Anakin a look of genuine gratefulness. Â
The both of you proceeded in the direction of the shops.
âCome on, pop star. I know a great diner that my old master loves. Itâs called Dexâs Diner. Have you ever been there before?â Anakin asked.Â
The both of you arrived at Dexâs Diner and proceeded to order half the menu. You spent hours in the diner, the both of you enjoying each otherâs company after the crazy events of the day.
You spent the same evening replaying all of the times Anakin touched you and how each touch made you feel.Â
You decided it was time to get out of your head and back into the present. If you stayed in the sonic tub any longer, you wouldnât have enough time to get ready without feeling rushed. You stood up from the sonic tub and grabbed the plush white robe sitting on the table next to it. You then put the robe on and walked toward the mirror.Â
You grabbed the brush and started brushing through your hair to ensure that any tangles and knots were out. After deciding your hair was neat enough, you put the brush down and started moisturizing your body with your favorite lotion. You would let your hair air dry until you figured out how you wanted to style it. The lotion was made from the musk-rose plant and mixed with tiny hints of vanilla. When you were done moisturizing your body and applying your skincare, you walked out of the room and into the closet directly in front of the refresher.
To say your closet was huge is an understatement. When you finally earned enough credits to afford a high-rise apartment, the one thing you told your realtor was that you would not compromise on a small closet. The closet was lined with shelves and racks, each holding either your clothes or your shoes. In the middle of the closet sat an island, constructed with cream-yellow Selonian marble, that stored all of your accessories. A floor-to-ceiling mirror and lounging chaise were perched at the far corner of the room. You walked over to the shelf that held your dresses and began to sift through them. You felt the soft silks, thin taffetas, and the gorgeous gemwebs of your collection.
âAha,â you muttered as your hand finally landed on the gown you were looking for. The gown, designed by one of the most in-demand fashion ateliers, was a floor-length, demicot silk-lined tight velvet black gown with a curved necklace. The upper half of the gown was pale pink and covered in a multitude of tiny sequins and pearl studs. One shoulder extended out into the shape of a single petal, which was also fabricated with sequins and pearls. You paired it with a pair of black gloves that extended to your mid-bicep. The dress was as much haute as it was a piece of wearable art. If there was one thing you loved about being wealthy, it was the clothes.Â
You laid your evening gown on the chaise before traveling to your vanity and beginning on your makeup. Since the gown was extravagant in itself, you decided that a more subtle makeup look would complement the overall look more. You wanted people to focus on the gown and all its intricacies and craftsmanship. After glossing your lips with a matching shade of pink, you finished your makeup and moved on to your hair. You settled on a suitable hairstyle and allowed your loose face-framing layers to enhance the shape of your face.Â
You looked at yourself in the mirror once more before deciding you were ready to go. You walked out of your room and towards the living where Anakin was waiting for you.Â
To be continued...
(Here is a link to the dress, which was designed by Miss Sohee. One thing I love about the SW universe is the fashion, so I wanted to include a dress that reflected that. Like, come on. Have you seen Padmeâs and Satineâs outfits?)
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