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tasavvur-e-jaana · 11 months

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Pehli si Mohabbat

In lieu of all my works lost, I am reposting all my RRR fics here. Again. This series is a 10 part story centred around our protagonists and classical music and ghazals (my inspiration to write), a fanfic of a fanfic really.

This was the first thing I ever wrote for the fandom and even though I am a dormant admirer, loving the characters from the sidewalk, here you go.

P.s. The characters are not mine, they are entirely credited to Mr. Rajamouli and I am just borrowing them, one fanfic writer to another really. And yeah, the usual disclaimer... bla bla bla... you all know by now how it goes.

The fic is unbeta'd and I own my mistakes like Ram.

Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1: Yaad Piya ki Aaye

“Yaad piya ki aaye…”

The sweet melody of the traditional thumri was wafting in the air, mingling with the buzz in the street of purani Dilli even close to eleven at night. The shops had closed and the porches were now filled by the food stalls and hawkers selling various delicacies that were the highlight of the city’s flavours. The aroma of chole, kulche, kebabs, nihari, biryanis, paratha and what not was ready to attack and entice one’s appetite on just entering the gali. The street was lit with lanterns that lent a rustic glow to the entire surrounding and one could see why Ghalib had fallen in love with the city, especially the nightlife of it.

A man clad in white pyjamas and light blue solid patterned kurta walked through the humdrum of the streets. He seemed to be in a hurry to reach somewhere, not at all pausing or even glancing at the vendors or people on the way, his legs falling in determined steps as he almost was going to burst into a sprint anytime soon. A small albeit sad smile involuntarily graced his lips as soon as he heard the thumri before he saw the house from whose window the melodious tune was emanating. The structure was modest, with old but sturdy construction and the said man did not knock before he opened the wooden door noiselessly to enter.

The scene that greeted Akhtar was this as soon as he crossed the dehliz of the house and closed the door even more slightly than before. Unsurprisingly there were books strewn everywhere, meaning literally everywhere with barely any space to walk on the floor. The furniture comprised of an ordinary table, a chair and a bed that could be called a four poster if we were being too generous, wide enough of a full grown man if not more. But amongst all the clutter there were two things that were absolutely Akhtar’s favourites. One, the gramophone that oozed the beautiful and heartfelt tunes and the other was a recliner wooden chair on which lay Ram, the third and the most favourite entity of Akhtar’s life.

The said man was relaxing on the chair (or the version of relaxation that Ram did) and was almost asleep as he had not noticed Akhtar enter. His eyes were closed, one hand resting on his stomach which was moving lazily as he breathed. His other hand was laying casually on the handle of the chair, lithe fingers moving gently with the tune playing. He would look younger than he was only if his brows would not have been furrowed, forehead creased and slightly tensed shoulders that carried the weight of the world on them even when he was not working. Akhtar winced internally at this observation on top of feeling guilty at being late for the dinner.

He wanted to give as much less worry that he could manage to his… no, not his. To Ram. For a few days now, he had started calling him Ram in his head instead of anna or bhai or bhaiya due to a reason that he’d locked so far down in his heart that he wouldn’t touch it with a 100 foot pole. As he stood there openly gawking at the man in question, because such instances where he could just observe the other were too rare and too precious for him to let go of. How he wanted to shake Ram and get him to confess what was always troubling him? What guilt did he carry in his heart that had travelled to his beautiful face and had permanently etched a frown on those lush lips. He wanted to shout at him until he cracked and shared all his worries with Bheem. Bheem. How he himself wished he could tell Ram his real name so that Ram would not call him by the false identity that he’d donned. Bheem spent too much time thinking about how it would sound from Ram’s mouth.

Yet he never asked for Ram to spill his heart out and share his burdens because he could never share his own secret with Ram. That would be sheer hypocrisy. But Bheem already was a hypocrite wasn’t he? The whole coming to Delhi to rescue Malli was like walking on a double edged sword that was kept on the fire that was sure to burn Bheem alive. A creaking noise of the wood and a soft, sleep ridden voice brought Bheem back to the present from his reverie.

“Akhtar! Akhtar!?” a snap of fingers in front of his face had Bheem startled. Oh, right. Ram had woken up. How long had he been standing there? Anyway, he shook his head internally, putting on a blinding smile that was partly genuine- because how can it not be when Ram was there? And that too looking at him amusingly with that glint in his eye?

“Han!” (Yes.) Well, time to be Akhtar again.

“Kin khayalon mein khoye huye the?” (What were you thinking?) Ram asked, eyes still twinkling as he added. “Ya phir kis ke khayalon mein khoye huye the ye poochhna chahiye?” (Or should I ask whose thoughts were you lost in?)

A sudden and unwanted blush crept up Akhtar’s face at the question. He jerked away from Ram’s intense gaze as he replied unconvincingly, “Kuchh bhi toh nahi, anna.” (Nothing, Anna) oh, how he hated that word now.

“Kyon bachchu? Mujhse se jhoot bologe? Tumhari aankhein bata rahi hai k koi hai.” (Will you lie to me? Your eyes reveal more than you know.) If Akhtar had not been persistently boring a hole in his chappals, he would have noticed that even though Ram was teasing, the smirk did not reach his eyes.

“Meri chhodo. Apni baat karo na. Wo main nahi jo bhaabhi ki yaad mein saare din virah ke geet sunta rehta hoon.” (Leave me be. Let's talk about you. I'm not the one who's listening to sad songs remembering Sita) Akhtar retorted with his own jibe. Now it was Ram’s turn to flush; that’ll show him, thought the younger man triumphantly.

“Ye behad khoobsurat thumri hai. Aur main dusre ras ke gaane bhi sunta hoon.” (This song is a classic. And I listen to other types of songs.) Ram defended himself as he shifted on his feet; how could he ever tell his friend that the song did not remind him of Sita. It had never reminded him of anyone until he met the gorgeous, wide eyed man standing in front of him that commanded all his thought recently. He turned toward the kitchen to get their food ready. Because, let’s face it, if they would spiral into one of their classic playful bickerings, they’d be standing in the middle of the room like a couple of morons for the whole night. And also, he knew Akhtar would be starving.

“Tum baitho main khana lagaata hoon.” (You wait I'll bring the food.) Just as Ram took one step forward, the record whizzed and stopped. Before he could go and flip it over, Akhtar beat him to it, starting a new song. Unfortunately, the record player was not on Ram’s side as the second song that started playing turned out to be another thumri in the same ras.

Akhtar looked at him knowingly as the words formed in vilambit laya (slow tune) setting the base of the song that went “Kaa karun sajni… aaye na balam”

“Dekha? Main na kehta tha?” (See? I know you too well.) Akhtar chuckled at a slightly peeved Ram, who had been betrayed by his own gramophone’s timings. And just to rile him up further, Akhtar added, “Agar aapke paas koi khushnuma kism ke gaane ho, to woh lagaate hain.”, (If you have some happy and fun songs, let's play those.) and started to remove the pin from the record to stop the song.

Ram lunged at him with catlike reflexes, catching Akhtar’s extended arm in his own hand. “Nahi. Rehne do na ise. Ise beech mein badlna matlab sangeet ki tauheen karna.” (No. Let this one play. To stop this song in the middle will be an insult to music.)

“Achcha, to iske baad lagaate hain.” (Fine. Then after this one.)

“Thik hai.” (Ok.) Ram acquiciesed, not letting go of Akhtar’s arm.

They both looked at each other, Ram feeling butterflies in his stomach as Akhtar beamed at him on getting his way. A moment and more passed as they stood in that position, Ram not letting go of Akhtar’s arm, growing more aware of it by the second. Akhtar’s arm feels warm on his skin, touch tingling to his very core. Ram was not aware how touch starved he was until this hurricane of a man entered his life and uprooted everything. He left Ram with a clean slate on which he could rewrite his emotions and beliefs. He loosened Ram in a way that no one else could. After the death of his family, Ram was alive but had not been living. He was but only a weapon seeking revenge and destruction of the Empire.

And Akhtar- that curly haired menace had thoroughly made a permanent residence in Ram’s heart in no time. He was like a hot cup of sweet chai on a rainy day that lifted up Ram’s spirits at any point of time with his mere presence in Ram’s vicinity. All the little touches that he bestowed freely on Ram were akin to a salve soothing his wounds from the inside, healing little by little with each pat on the back, held hands, tight hugs, casual arm around shoulder. Ram always gravitated toward it, seldom initiating the contact himself. But Akhtar never seemed to notice or if he did, he didn’t mind. Ram was so engrossed in his thoughts that he missed the loud growl the younger man’s stomach let out.

“Anna…” a voice seemed to call him. “Ram!” the voice called out loud. Ram jolted back to find himself in front of his friend who was calling him. “Um…” Akhtar seemed…flustered? Clearing his throat, the other man spoke sheepishly. “My hand…”. Ram dropped it and ran as fast as he could in the kitchen leaving an equally crimson Akhtar behind.

Akhtar went into the kitchen after gathering his wits about himself. Ram was preparing two plates, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. Akhtar stopped short of entering, entranced by the beauty that Ram oozed doing such a simple chore. He admonished himself, chastising internally- he needed to work harder controlling his emotions in front of Ram. It would not be appropriate if Ram found out about it. Taking a deep breath, Akhtar masked his emotions lest they spill out at some very inopportune moment.

“Kya bana hai khane mein aaj? Pet mein chuhe nahi ab to haathi daud rahe hain.” (What’s for dinner? I am starving like anything.) He asked even though he saw the plate was filled with his favourite biryani. Ram was now filling the bowls with raita as he answered. “Tumhari manpasand cheez.” (It’s your favourite) Ram handed over Akhtar’s plate to the younger man, following him out in the room with his own.

They both settled on the chairs by the table plate in hand as the table too was fully cluttered with papers, books and miscellaneous paraphernalia. Akhtar had once made the mistake of setting things straight on the table so it would look a bit organized and Ram had thrown a fit like a child. No Akhtar! What are you doing? Everything is just as I want it to be. Don’t disarragne it! That was the first and last time Akhtar dared touch to oragnize things for Ram.

Ram let out a soft chuckle as Akhtar dug into his biryani like a man starved and let out an indecent moan. Ram gulped down air as his throat went dry suddenly. Frankly, Akhtar should be arrested for public indecency and more so for making Ram melt into a puddle of mush. The older man resorted to small talk to divert his focus onto something else. “Aaj aane mein der kaise hui? Kab se intezaar tha tumhara…”, (Why so late today? You were being waited for a long time by…) he paused, only for the curly haired man to look at him with such fondness and a little sorrow. Mujhe. (Me.) Ram wanted to say, instead he blurted out a little too loud, “Biryani ko.” (Biryani) He really was such an emotion stunted person! It was perfectly fine telling a friend that I’d been waiting for you, right? Right? Ram face-palmed himself internally.

Akhtar, on the other hand, went completely still, the biryani forgotten for a moment at the pregnant pause Ram took. His heart was racing million miles a minute as if it would just jump out and land at Ram’s feet in benediction. The way Ram was looking at him, Akhtar, just for a second dared to imagine he saw the same emotion in Ram’s eyes as his own. But how could it be? Ram thought of him as a little brother, a friend. He was only reflecting his own sentiments, an illusion that his vulnerable heart created for his mind. He shook it off, a bit disappointed and also relieved when Ram ended the sentence with a joke. Of course it was a jest. A slight admonishment at Akhtar being late, because Ram was too gentle and sweet to actually get angry at him even if he was upset.

“Maaf karna, anna. Aaj bahot zyada kaam aa gaya tha achanak se. Uss silsile mein waqt ka taqaazaa hi nahi raha. Par aap to kha lete na! Kyon mere liye…” (Sorry, anna. There was a sudden repair to be done and I lost the sense of time. But you could have eaten. Why wait for me?) his eyes were too sincere as his voice was laced with guilt.

Ram couldn’t take that. Someone like Akhtar should not be upset for such a trivial thing. He shouldn’t be upset ever. “Akhtar,” he cut in, “Koi baat nahi. Aur daawat maine di hai. Tumhare bina kaise shuru kar sakta hoon?” (It’s no big deal. And it was my invitation. How could I start without you?) Ram smiled in reassurance, hoping to get his message to the other.

“Kya aap bhi! Apne hi ghar mein koi nyota hota hai bhala?” (What are you saying? Does one need an invitation in his own home?) Ram smiled wider at this, making Akhtar’s heart do somersaults in his chest. “Achchha chalo ab khao, warna fir se thandi ho jayegi.” (Fine. Now eat before it gets cold again and I have to reheat it.) Ram started working on his plate, urging the younger man to do the same. Both shifted to lighter banter after that, enjoying the food, the music and most importantly, the company.

The song slowly faded into silence as they finished up with dinner. Akhtar finally dragged Ram to his record collection in search of a song with faster beats and happy tone. “Chalo na! Pehle gaana dhoondho. Fir baki sab thik karenge. Aur mujhe shart bhi to jeetni hai!” (Come no! First let’s pick the song. Then we’ll clean up. And I have to win the bet too.)

“Maine koi shart toh nahi lagayi thi.” (I did not wager anything.) Ram said as he started shuffling the record collection, narrating the names of the songs to Akhtar for him to choose.

“Han toh ab lagaate hain. Agar main jeet gaya toh kya milega?” (Then let’s do it now. What will I get if I win?) Akhtar raised an eyebrow.

They had already gone though a few records without any luck: they’d all turned out to be gambhir ras raag or ghazals. Akhtar was preening in confidence and Ram really didn’t want to lose now.

“Nahi. Main bachchon jaise shart nahi lagaata.” (Look, I’m not wagering some stupid bet, ok?)

“Kyon darr gaye?” (Why? Afraid you’ll lose?)

“Ismein darne wali koi baat hi nahi.” (There’s nothing to be afraid of.)

“Toh phir lagao shart.” (Then let’s bet!) Akhtar extended his hand, baiting Ram. Ram shook it, “Lagi shart.” (Done.) And started digging through more of the vinyls. While searching, Ram found a disc with the song that he hadn’t heard in a while. It was one of his favourite ghazals. A beautiful poem and even better composition.

“Aha! Mil gayi. Akhtar ye ghazal toh sunni hi hogi!” (Yes! Here it is. Akhtar, you have to listen to this ghazal.) He held out the disc for Akhtar to drop in the gramophone.

“Kaunsi hai yeh?” (Which one is it?) Akhtar fixed it in the instrument, putting the pin in for it to play.

“Tum khud hi suno. Aur shart haar gaye ho tum.” (You’ll know when it plays. And yeah, you lost.) Ram declared with triumph.

Akhtar refused to back down as the tune started with a slow rhythm of the tanpura. He was confident that Ram’s definition of a fun song would be still a slow one. Then the words started flowing, making Akhtar more confident of the genre of the ghazal. It went- Mujhse pehli si mohabbat mere mehboob na maang…

He had heard this one before, it was one of the favourites of his abbajaan, the benevolent man at whose place he was staying. “Nahi nahi! Ye nahi chalega. Ye bhi dukh bhari ghazal hi hai. Main waqif hoon iss se.” (No! No! This is not done. This is also laden with sorrow. I know this one.)

“Par tumne kaha tha k mere paas virah ras k siva aur koi sangeet hi nahi hai! Ismein to desh bhakti ka tawajjuh hai. Shayar apne mulk se mohabbat ki baat kar raha hai!” (But you said I would not have songs apart from virah (separation from the beloved) ras. But this is about patriotism. The poet is talking about the love for his country.)

“Ho sakta hai, par wo keh to apne firdaus se hi raha hai na? Aur phir baat ismein bhi mulk se judaa hone ki hi hai!” (Maybe. But he’s conveying this to one of his lovers only. And also, there is the point where the poet yearns for his country.) Akhtar argued his point.

“Ye bhi ek soch hai par mulk se ishq aur insaan se ishq alag hai.” (This is one perspective toward it. But loving one’s motherland and loving a person is different.)

“Pata nahi. Shayad. Mere liye to ishq ishq hai. Chahe kisi se bhi ho. Pyaar mein koi alag mayne thoda hi hote hain? Dard bhi wahi hai, ranj bhi wahi, hijr bhi wahi aur vasl bhi wahi hai na? Par main toh itna padha likha nahi hun, main kya jaanu?” (I don’t know. Maybe. But for me love is love. Whoever there may be on the other end. How can you set boundaries for love? Pain is the same, distress is the same, woe of separation hits the same and the joy of reunion is the same. But I’m not a scholar, so what do I know?) His voice trailed into a soft whisper as he said the last sentence. Akhtar was afraid to look at Ram now, thinking he had crossed a line.

Ram took a step closer. They already were in close quarters riffing through the music, and that step landed Ram closer still. Akhtar could feel the heat of the other’s body, his breath on his cheeks as he spoke tenderly. “Akhtar, meri taraf dekho.” (Akhtar, look at me.) Akhtar shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes with embarrassment.

“Akhtar,” Ram repeated a bit more commandingly this time. Akhtar lifted his head, still not looking at Ram, his gaze fixed somewhere over the older man’s shoulder. Ram held his jaw with a featherlike touch to tilt his face to himself. His hand did not leave as he uttered the next words. “Kabhi apne aap ko anpadh bol kar khud ko neecha mat dikhana. Ek taraf tum itni gehri baat karte ho aur dusri taraf tum ye soch bhi kaise sakte ho? Tumse zyada samajhdaar, hoshiyaar aur kaabil insaan maine nahi dekha. Aur main ye tumhari khushaamad nahi kar raha, na to tumhe achchha lage isliye keh raha hoon. Main ye isiliye keh raha hoon kyon ki ye sach hai.” (Never think of yourself as lesser. On one hand you say something so profound and on the other hand you belittle yourself? I have not met anyone who is more smart, understanding and caring than you. And I’m not saying this to lift your spirits or to flatter you. I’m saying this because it is the truth.)

Bheem felt his vision go blurry and wetness on his cheeks as Ram proceeded with his speech. And as Ram cupped his face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs, did Bheem realise he was actually crying. He held Ram’s wrists with both his hands as he shut his eyes to stop tears from flowing. What had happened to him? Sure, he was an emotional person, a bit too emotional as the elders in his tribe commented, feeling everything all at once. But he had learnt how to mask his feelings after coming to Delhi. He was here on a mission and the only time he had allowed himself to be emotionally vulnerable was when he went to the forest, be it for a walk or a hunt. When he would be alone.

Tears in Akhtar’s eyes were a new sight for Ram altogether and it split his heart into a million pieces to see the man cry at genuine compliments. Had no one ever told him how precious he was? How beautiful? How smart, intelligent, selfless and pure he was? Did the ever smiling, ever happy and optimist Akhtar think this about himself? This would not do. Ram would spend every moment that he got in the other’s company to make him believe otherwise. What Ram did next surprised him as well.

He lifted Akhtar’s head a little, thumbs rubbing under his eyes until he opened them, the honey dipped orbs that somehow held Ram’s universe in them. Ram wanted to drown in them. Forever. And forget the rest of the world, all the responsibilities and burdens and challenges. Ram was aware how close they were and how intimate the position was, their breaths mingling as time stretched in an eternity in that moment. But it was as if he was floating somewhere above his body, looking at the two of them suspended in their own personal bubble. He closed his eyes, raising his head and pressed his lips to Akhtar’s forehead, conveying everything he felt in that fleeting kiss.

“Anna…” Akhtar whimpered with so much love and reverence but the word still sounded hollow to him as he sunk himself in the older man’s embrace, burrowing his face in the other’s shoulders. Maybe, Ram heard the hollowness too as he engulfed Akhtar in his arms. “Mujhe mere naam se pukaaro na Akhtar.” (Call me by my name, Akhtar.) he pleaded.

“Ram..”, the muffled voice in Ram’s shirt was the sweetest sound in the room as the gramophone whirred in the back, effectively ending the song.

Chapter 2.

A/N: Please please let me know how you liked it or didn't like it...

Also, I do apologise for the Hindi/Urdu dialogues but that's the language i thought in for the songs and the Delhi backdrop. And I'm sorry that the translation of the ghazal is not mentioned in the fic but I'll attach a link with the video.

P.s. for the ghazal nerds, the ghazal was written by the great Faiz Ahmad Faiz sahab (1911-1984) and it might not have been exactly written in 1920s. It was around the time of partition and was written in the form of a revolt poem against the government and his love for the country (India and Pakistan). But I've taken artistic liberty here so I hope that's okay. The ghazal has a very rich history in Urdu literature and it is absolutely my favourite.

P.P.s: I also have lost my taglist- and somehow am not exactly keen to make one without request. So lmk if you want the notifications. Or just keep tuned to this blog.

#rrr #doodles fics #rrr fics #long series #pehli si mohabbat #rrr movie #ram rrr #bheem rrr #rambheem #classical music #indian classical music #rrr fandom #wip

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koishua · 3 years

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|!| 𝐎𝐎𝐏𝐒, 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃 |!| ENHYPEN.

hyung line reacting to you acting like you hate their kisses.

themes: fluff. vv light angst. and a shit ton of disgustingly cute kisses.

taglist part 1: @junityy @igyus @intokook @leavethemonsteralive @iuwon @envirae @fairyjunn @rutosruru-world @daystiny @luvholicz @imdamconfused @renjunvrse @honeyseungz @dweio @rae-blogging @ikigyus @enhyseob @jitaros @jdyunvrs @yunntext @yourlocalhotgf @strwberrydinosaur @mark-lees-world @beomgyuv @chileangring4 @99swinwin @jakeycore @99outros @heejojo @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @strqyverse @tyongishs @jiminisyourangel @yutaalove @yangianwon @icywhatim @sunshine-skz @hwallswrld @twntycm @sooblvr @injanggarden @whoe-dis @thegracerammy @k2oi @simpforsung @90sni-ki @sungsunnie @wccycc @definitely-not-kyuzu @iminchaosnow (click here to be added)

[ 𖧧 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ]

is 200% offended and maybe a teensy tiny bit hurt when you mockingly make a disgusted face after he places a peck on the corner of your lips

poor baby plz don't make him doubt himself he is the most precious ;-;

pls his large doe eyes would blink and his brows would raise and he'd look so puzzled

did you really not like it when he kisses you? did he do something to make you mad at him? WHAT WAS THE REASON

poor guy ;-; you were just teasing him but- ugh forget about this he is one of those people I cannot stand the thought of being emotionally hurt in some way fml

"what's wrong? are you mad at me?" he asks in the most genuine and wholesome way possible OML my heart-

and you break lmao you can't hold the act any longer

"omg ofc not i was just pulling your leg im so sorry i really love you and your kithes" ;-;-;-; and then you proceed to give him big smooch on his lips and he'd be so relieved xnkkdmsnd

mi corazon.

rest of the hyung line under the cut... !

[ 𖧧 𝐣𝐚𝐲 ]

you done did mess up with this one besties bc you did NOT just pull that on him. oh no you did not. no no no.

he strikes me as the type to get all pouty oml how cute

he is absolutely not going to let you get away scotch free and will make you feel so sorry for making his heart sink like that like?? what was your reason??

it's not intentionally tho lmao that's the entire point. like, he takes the joke well but then goes off to brood about it in his own corner around the house without even realising he is overthinking awwww 😭

mans wants you to think that he is all cool and suave and totally not shaken up by you rejecting his choice of physical affection, forehead kithes.

please go get him and kiss the crown of his head and make him know that you lub him so so much and it was all really just a joke and a shitty one at that ;-;

somehow is the man child #1 in this situation

[ 𖧧 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 ]

manhandles. just manhandles.

don't even try making him panic. he will absolutely turn the tables around and attack you with even more bc wdym you hate his lips 😩

don't lie to yourself, he will say. he can see right through you bahaha

bc he knows that you can never get enough of him and neither can he but we don't mention that hah

will raise a brow, challenging you and you'll fall silent most probably because he just has that... that look on his face ya know?

grabs you and makes sure you are contained so that he can cup your face with his large hands and then the rest is history lmfao good luck breathing for the next half an hour 💀

[ 𖧧 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧 ]

petty af i just know it he will make you regret it in his own petty petty petty way hmph.

he's a cute kind of petty tho, so ig it's okay

really, the moment you wipe away your cheek, he'd be like

hold tf up something is fishy

no but my boy knows that you are addicted to his lips why would you push him away now? 🤨 that's weird.... that's suspicious.

and after that, he steps back and gives you a look that basically means that he knows that you know that he somehow knows about your plan and he is going to give you the petty silent treatment for the rest of the evening

good luck btw lmfao

he will expect some make-up kisses. only after you pepper his entire face with kithes will he break his silence smh

man child #2

#enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jay #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jake x reader #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon x reader

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jungkookiebus · 4 years

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Magic Shop pt. 2 | jjk

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tea shop owner!jjk x reader ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst x fluff ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: none, just a bit of sadness and foul language ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ: PG ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6.7k sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: you thought after three years the hurt in your heart for your dead husband would sting a little less than it did. in an attempt to clear your mind and start anew, you move to a small, coastal town. there, you find comfort in a tea shop run by a man named jeongguk. every day, at the same time, you come to the tea shop and soon start to fall for the bright-eyed man that listens to you pour your heart out. but the guilt settling in your stomach every time you think of your husband has you running from jeongguk entirely. do you have what it takes to let go?

New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings. -Lao Tzu

“How does this look?” you asked as you turned in front of the mirror. Kyongni sat behind you and meowed loudly. “Is it too much?” You had decided on a summer dress, so it didn’t look like you were trying too hard. She looked at you dismissively before trotting off down the hallway. It was close to her dinner time.

The setting sun was starting to flood your house when you stepped out into the hallway. The air was still, but light. Kyongni sat on your kitchen counter, the sun cloaking her orange coat in golden flame, with her tail swishing lazily.

“I get the hint,” you said as she meowed again. You quickly filled her bowl and set it down on the counter in front of her. You stood, watching her almost in a daze when three soft knocks on your door drew you out of your daydream. Your brow furrowed as you looked towards your front door. Looking down at your phone, you saw that you had fifteen minutes to make it to the restaurant to meet Jeongguk. Whoever was on the other side of that door better just be making a delivery of some sort. Your heels clicked along the floor as you left Kyongni to eat alone on the counter.

Pulling the door open, you were surprised to see Jeongguk, all smiles with a bouquet of flowers in his hand, standing on your porch.

“What are you doing here? I thought I was meeting you?” You were still a bit shocked to see him. He was dressed nicely. He had on dark jeans, black boots, and a long-sleeved white button up.

He looked down shyly as he scooted the toe of his boot across the sand that perpetually seemed to creep onto your porch. He looked up again and you saw the tips of his ears start to redden.

“I didn’t want you to walk there alone.” He quickly thrust the flowers forward towards your chest. “I picked these from my garden.” He seemed like a shy teenager going on his first date.

“Oh!” You grabbed for them before he would inevitably open his fist and let them fall. “Come inside. I was just feeding Kyongni.” You stepped to the side to allow him in.

You immediately went back into your kitchen to retrieve a vase for the flowers.

“These are beautiful, Jeongguk, you didn’t have to ruin your flowers for me.”

“It’s not ruining them when you give them to someone you like.” He wasn’t looking at you as he said it but was instead scratching Kyongni behind her ears, so he missed the small smile on your face.

“Should we go then?” you asked, turning around.

He smiled when he looked up at you. “You look pretty.”

It was your turn to blush now as you looked down. You mustered a shy ‘thank you’ as you reached for your purse. When you turned around from locking your front door, Jeongguk was waiting at the bottom of your step with his arm out, waiting for you to hook yours in his elbow. His smile widened when you complied, and he took the lead as he guided you towards town.

The both of you were mostly silent for the duration of the walk. Wildflowers had begun to bloom, and you still couldn’t get over the ocean views.

“You know,” Jeongguk started softly and suddenly you were afraid of what he was about to say, and you weren’t sure why, “I’m really glad you moved here.”

You weren’t sure what to say. It had been so long since you had been on a “date” or been complimented by someone that wasn’t your husband that your voice caught in your throat and your thoughts scrambled. You stumbled over your words and he smiled as you struggled to say something.

“I-I’m not sure exactly what I expected when I moved here, but I’m really glad, too,” you managed to say.

Jeongguk’s smile could have lit up the darkest of nights, but it was reserved just for you in this moment and part of you wanted to tuck him away, while others fought with your warring feelings. But for now, you were in a perfect bubble. But like all perfect, shining bubbles, its sensitive edges were about to be pierced by the nearest point.

The restaurant was buzzing when you arrived, but Jeongguk had called ahead for a reservation so the both of you were sat rather quickly. He pointed towards the small shaded lamp that sat in the middle of the table and giggled.

“How Ratatouille of them.”

“Seriously?” you snickered as you hid your face behind your menu. You were still laughing when the waitress cheerily came up to the table for your drink orders.

The wine loosened you. You hadn’t touched alcohol in months and now that the sweet red wine was coursing through your body, you were starting to give him more details about your life than you ever had. You had him laughing over silly stories about your childhood, dumb things you and Ki had gotten into, and soon he was cooing over endearing stories about you past pets. Dinner was going better than you had ever thought it would and you felt relieved and happy that you accepted his invitation.

Some time in the night, the music had changed from some current pop music to a more subdued genre that lilted lazily in the background of your conversation. A couple tendrils of music crept into your ears that you recognized with such clarity that you were instantly sober, heat rushing under your skin and caused you to sweat. Jeongguk noticed the change in your demeanor immediately as you sat with your glass mid-air, a shocked look on your face. He slowly sat his fork down and looked at your pained expression in the dim lighting.

“_____?” His voice was low and gentle as if hearing your own name would cause you to explode.

Your eyes shifted to his and you weren’t sure what he saw there but his back was immediately a little straighter as he sat his napkin on the table from his lap. You heard the echo of your own name in your ears again as he spoke a little louder. The blood was rushing so loudly that you could barely hear him. Your hands began to shake, and you suddenly felt as if you were having a panic attack.

It was your wedding song, the first one you danced to.

How had you avoided hearing it after all these years? Maybe the universe had been sparing you and now it was sticking its toe in your front door. Hello, it seemed to say, did you forget about your pain? Shame. A vision of small, white lights lining the trees overhead flashed into your mind. His smiling face as he brought his forehead down to yours, hand in hand, his other on your waist, came into such clear focus that a sob stuck in your throat. How could you have forgotten? How could you have left the most precious moment in your life in the back of your mind collecting dust? You wanted to throw up, you wanted to scream, but all you could do was sit your glass down on the table and finally look Jeongguk in the eyes. You were the ultimate traitor. You willed your tears not to fall. You didn’t want to cry in the middle of a restaurant, but the room began to feel too small and stifling for your liking. You stood from the table suddenly and looked towards the front door before grabbing your bag and weaving between the tables.

“____!” You heard him say your name, but you needed to be outside more than you needed to be in here. If to at least drown out the song so you didn’t have to hear the entire thing.

You didn’t see as Jeongguk shuffled for his wallet, shoved several bills into the waitress’s hand, and apologized before running after you. You reached the door, shoving it open even among the surprised waiting patrons who could see the evident panic on your face. Your feet couldn’t carry you out fast enough as you hit the cool air outside, thankful for the quelling of heat. Jeongguk was fast on your heels as he burst forth from the waiting crowd and was at your side in an instant. You took in large gulping breaths as the tears broke forth and you felt his hand on your shoulder. Quickly, and maybe even harshly, you moved from under his touch and stood in front of him.

“Jeongguk I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” You wanted to scream at the sky and curse the world.

His hands were outward towards you, but not daring to reach. “_____, what happened? Was it something I did?” His eyes were pleading, he looked desperate for an answer as you cried.

You wildly flung your hands between you. “This! Us! I can’t do this. I’m sorry, but I didn’t mean to lead you on, I didn’t mean for any of this.”

You clutched your stomach not wanting to look at him, but you didn’t miss the hurt that flashed in his eyes. He dropped his hands to his sides finally and looked at you for a few moments in silence.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” His voice was so quiet, so devoid of feeling. You knew he was trying to be kind, but something about it made you angry. Even after you did this, even after the way you acted, he was still willing to take care of you in some way.

“Just go home.”

He pursed his lips, nodding. There was so much more he wanted to say, but he instead stood quietly in front of you. He tapped the toe of his boot awkwardly on the ground, head down, before he looked up again.

“If you need me, you know where to find me.” The hurt in his voice gutted you. How could you have been so selfish?

He waited for you to turn around first. You didn’t hear footsteps behind you as you slowly walked into the night.

Jeongguk stood in the same spot until he could no longer see your retreating form, standing in the quiet dark unsure of what to do.

You all but ran home. Tears flowed freely again as your guilt ripped through your heart and stomach. Your chest felt as if it had a million tons stacked on top of it and the food you had eaten threatened to come back up. Kyongni was excited as you opened the front door, but immediately sat at your feet in mild curiosity as your sadness caused you to double over. You sobbed harder than you had in a long time. A pain that you had all but forgotten, but had laid dormant, came rushing back. The same pain you felt when he died screeched in like a predatory bird and sunk its talons into your back. You couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t think straight as you stumbled towards your room, hand finding the wall as you tried to stay upright and not just fall down in the hallway. You could only manage to kick off your shoes as you curled up in the middle of your bed. Kyongni was immediately at your side, purring loudly as her tail flicked back and forth.

You weren’t sure when you finally fell asleep, but your limbs were stiff as sunlight came through the windows. Kyongni was still on the bed next to you, but fast asleep. Your eyelashes stuck together where the tears had dried and your nausea still bubbled in your stomach. The bath you had only made you feel minutely better as you moved through the house with heavy limbs. Outside, the sky was graying over the horizon. The ocean was bringing in a storm. You wanted to roll your eyes, but you felt too tired to even think. You noticed with some disdain that you had left some tea out that Jeongguk had given you a few days ago. You could only manage to put it away and feed Kyongni before you sidled to your couch and laid on your side. Thunder rumbled overhead. The rain began slowly, hitting softly against your window before it turned into a torrential downpour. How had you ended up here after all this time?

You slept on and off through the day. Your feelings varied from empty to so overwhelming that you could barely move. When you finally decided to rise from your couch, the storm had passed, and the sun was setting. Begrudgingly, you stood knowing you needed to feed your cat and yourself. When you were done, you stood in your kitchen looking around as if something would happen. As if something would pop out and say, Hey! Focus on me for a minute and forget! But there was nothing. Maybe a walk. You didn’t think twice as you grabbed a sweater and stepped outside. Stars were starting to form in the now clear sky and the night had cooled immensely. You weren’t sure where you were going as you started to walk and you sure as hell did not intend to walk by the shop. Of course, it was closed and dark, but all the sudden the tea shop no longer held the same magic as it had before. It seemed ominous and foreboding as it sat in silence. Beyond the window, it was black, with only a few plants in sight. The carved wooden door did not seem as whimsical as it once used to. A place that was once a source of hope and warmth was now filled with a steely iciness. Your heart seemed shut off to the idea of joy as if you didn’t deserve it. Instead, a pain and bitterness filled you that left a horrible taste in your mouth. You didn’t want to stand here much longer as you turned to go back home, clutching tightly to your sweater as you experienced yet another loss. The tea shop, and enigmatic place of wonder, was now an empty shell.

The days crawled on. You no longer went to the shop. Jeongguk had tried to text you the next day, but when you didn’t answer, he stopped trying. He had left a bento on your porch, and as much as it pained you, you left it there. A day later, it was gone. He had even knocked on your door once, you saw him through your window, but you ignored him until you saw his retreating form down the path. It was best that you kept all ties cut from him, for him and yourself. He didn’t deserve someone who was like you, broken inside, and you still felt a deep cutting guilt for your late husband. The virtual sessions with your therapist seemed little to help you and even Ki coming in for a weekend only slightly lightened your spirits. He had known your relationship with Jeongguk had grown, gently encouraging it even, and it pained him to see you reeling back into old feelings again. You had gotten angry when he suggested you talk to Jeongguk, so he dropped the subject completely. When he left, you fell into the same pit of depression again.

A month passed. When in town, you tried to take paths that wouldn’t take you passed the tea shop. Once or twice, you had seen Jeongguk in town. Whether he saw you was unknown, but you’d quickly leave wherever you were to avoid him.

What had you become? It didn’t matter anymore. You had lost yourself almost four years ago. What did you expect?

You stared at the boxes that still sat stacked in your makeshift study/library. They were mostly his books and things you couldn’t seem to let go of. His office was his sanctuary and everything in it was like relic to you. As if some part of him would still be present, you were afraid to get rid of any of it. Were you doing any service to him by having it all packed away? You stared at the almost bare shelves save for a few of your own books and sighed. You needed to make a cup of coffee first.

When you had a steaming cup in your hand, you surveyed the room again. All the boxes were neatly labeled so there would be no issue in finding anything. Just the thought of unpacking it filled you both with relief and dread. Slowly, one by one, you began pulling books from a box. Before you noticed, you had neatly put away at least three boxes worth of books. In another box were the framed pictures he had had on his desk. One was of your wedding photo and another was of just you from a vacation to Jeju. He had always kept both within eyesight, sitting behind and to the side of where he usually sat his laptop on his desk. Sticky notes with his various tasks at the time sat stuck together and stacked in the cup he kept his pens in. You felt as if every tear in your body had dried up over the past months, but seeing such mundane things brought back a new quell of feelings. You were sad, but also reminisced on a time when things like ‘email Kim about research grant’ were the most of his worries. Another had a time and location. What for you couldn’t remember. He had also kept the various love notes you would scribble across the orange pad, sticking them to his desk at home and at work.

The box you had saved for last, when the last tendrils of sunlight came through your sheer curtains, was the one you hadn’t really wanted to touch, but you were here and you might as well. His books were precious to him. There was one story that touched his soul and he revisited it over and over. You pulled the flap back on the cardboard and peered inside. Sixteen worn and dog-eared novels sat neatly stacked in the box in perfect order. The epic had brought many years of happiness to him and he would lose himself in the turbulent history late into the night. Several times he had tried to get you to read it, even reading you his most favorite passages, but you had never committed saying that sixteen was too much for you to conquer. The word Toji looked up at you, the watercolor of workers so familiar to you. It was nostalgic seeing it now because the last time you had, it had been in his hands.

You picked up the volume and it felt soft. He had read it so many times that the cover felt like soft velvet beneath your fingers, bending easily as you opened the book and held it to your face, inhaling deeply. For a moment you imagined it smelled like your old home and him when you knew it was just the smell of the old pages. You sat it down and picked up another, just as worn, flipped to the middle and smelled the pages. You felt calm for the first time in a long time. You picked up another and before you could flip further, a piece of folded notebook paper fell from between them. You stared at it as it lay on the floor. There was obviously something written on it. You could see the heavy black ink through the paper and you immediately recognized his flowing handwriting. Why would he leave something in his book? Maybe it was just a bookmark. Putting the book back in the box you bent over and plucked it from the floor and unfolded it. Your hand flew to your mouth when you saw the note was addressed to you, but you had never seen it before. Did he know you would find this here? Had he written it with the intention to give it to you and decided not to? You didn’t even bother to sit as your eyes scanned the paper, immediately wondering what its contents were.

Hello my love,

I hope this finds you happy. I’m tucking this away in the books I always told you to read, but you always said was too long. When you thought I wasn’t looking, I caught you on many occasions skimming through the book, reading a page here and there. I know you wanted to be able to talk with me about it, but it’s okay if you never wanted to read it. The fact that you tried warmed me.

So, I expect you to find this much after my passing. I would like to imagine that you moved out of the city to somewhere nice. I know how much you wanted to live on the coast. Go somewhere where the sun will wake you up each day and the moon lays beside you at night. Meet new people, make new friends, and find new love.

I don’t want to be cliché and say that I want you to be happy but—honestly, I couldn’t put it any other way. You brought so much joy to my life and you have so much love in your heart I’d hate to see you keep it stored between guilt and regret. Don’t be afraid to move on. No matter what you do, or where you go, you will always have my heart.

Now, go get a cat or something. Don’t lock yourself away and promise me that you’ll let love back into your heart.

How wonderful it was to have met and loved you; a thousand paths await your footsteps.

-Hoseok

The tears you no longer thought you had flowed openly. A new foreign feeling hit you like a freight train. A release, an ease of pain you didn’t know you needed overtook and overwhelmed you. It was like he had come back, if just for a second, when you needed him the most and told you exactly what you needed to hear. He had never expected you to feel angry and hurt for so long. He had never expected you to live your life alone because he had gone earlier than you. He had never expected anything from you, and you weren’t sure why you hadn’t seen it before. He had been such a wonderful, forgiving person that you had done him a disservice to think he had wanted this. Of course, he wanted you to be happy. Why had you thought any less?

You suddenly felt terrible for the things you had done; for the things you had said to Jeongguk the last time you had seen him. It had been a few months since you left him in the street. You could apologize but what were you expecting from him? Nothing. You didn’t deserve to even be heard by him, but you needed to try.

Thunder rumbled overhead. As if this couldn’t get any worse. You were already queasy thinking about confronting him, but if now you didn’t go you never would. You didn’t bother changing from your ragged shirt and shorts, only throwing on a jacket as you ran out of your house in just socks and slides.

The wind was violent, twisting trees this way and that as a strong storm rolled in over the waters. You had no business being outside and you weren’t even sure he was home. You tripped once going up the uphill path to his home, knees scraped, but you didn’t notice as you picked yourself back up. Your feet slid in your shoes as the rain began to fall and your extremities felt like ice. Your nose began to run with the cold, breath coming out in soft puffs as you tried to traverse the now rain slicked path. It was coming down in sheets now. Regret coursed through you as you shivered, but the overwhelming feeling to stand in from of Jeongguk and just scream fueled you. You wanted to scream to let out the anguish, but you also needed him to know how you felt. You would probably look and sound crazy as you finally reached his house, but you were desperate. Your blood felt hot and pumped in your ears. You felt relief as you rounded the trees and saw his home lit from within. Nothing you were about to do was rational or normal, but it was going to ease the pain even further. Even if it ended badly.

“Jeongguk!” you yelled from his front yard. You squinted as the rain poured and the wind blew. The door did not open. No figure passed in front of the light. The storm was loud. You screamed again, feeling a release of emotions you had been holding as you shouted half at the sky and half towards him. Your throat hurt and your voice rasped.

His front door came open with such ferocity that you were taken aback with how quickly he ran out onto his porch. He looked like he had been relaxing. His hair was disheveled, and he was dressed as if he intended to stay in bed all day. Your hands were at your sides in fists as you willed your body to stay up and stay warm.

“_____?” he shouted as he looked through the driving rain. “What are you doing out here?!”

He hopped off the porch and into the rain and ran up to you. He didn’t think twice as he seized your shoulders.

“You’re going to make yourself sick why are you in the rain?” He didn’t ask where you had been, why you had ignored him, or anything of the sort. His only concern was that you were out in the cold and rain crying. Water dripped from his hair and soaked through his clothes, but he stood in the rain with you looking directly into your face. “What’s wrong?” No sense of animosity or disdain colored his features. He looked genuinely concerned as you sobbed in the deluge.

“I-I’m so s-sorry,” you choked out. Your hands were fisted into his shirt, clinging to him desperately as if he would go back into the house and leave you here.

His hands moved to your wrists and you were abruptly afraid he was about to pry your fingers from him. You looked up at him in panic as your fingernails dug into your own palms through the fabric. His face softened and his grip on you was loose.

“Please come inside.” Lightning flashed overhead as the rain began to fall even harder. You only nodded as he all but pulled you into his house.

You shivered and dripped water on his floor.

“I’m s-sorry,” you said again as you shivered.

“It’s just water let me get some towels and dry clothes.” He was fast as he took his stairs two at a time and before long, he was back down with large fluffy towels and clothes. He wrapped one around your shoulders and began to rub up and down your arms as you shivered. You could see his own bottom lip trembling slightly as he focused on you.

You grabbed the towel and stopped him. “I’ve got it. You’re cold, too.”

He stopped for a second as if thinking before he nodded and grabbed the other towel.

“Here,” he said when you were no longer dripping on his floor, “bathroom is right there. Go put these on.”

He handed you soft sweatpants and a sweatshirt before you walked in the direction he pointed. When you came back out again, he was in the kitchen, in dry clothes with his long hair still drying, busy with a couple of mugs. He smiled when he turned around and slid the steaming cup across to you. The smell of warm milk and honey reached your nose and you instantly relaxed as your hands wrapped around its warmth. You could feel his eyes on you. You had seen the way he searched your body when he ran outside, afraid that some physical harm had come to you. But now that you were here in one piece, his eyes felt as if they were piercing through you and seeing everything. He remained quiet as you both drank in silence until you finally set your mug down. He mirrored your action as he stood across the counter and waited.

“First,” you whispered. You still shivered a little despite the warmth you felt. “I understand if you don’t want to listen to any of this…” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other but didn’t say anything, so you took that as your cue to continue. “But I want to apologize for the way I’ve been acting.”

Silence filled the void between you. He was waiting for you to finish. You figured he wouldn’t interject but part of you wished he would say something.

“I feel…this heavy guilt in my heart. Hoseok was my first love.”

It was the first time you had ever mentioned his name to him. Out of all the things you had told him, you had kept that part of your heart hid away and guarded.

“I met him so young. It was almost as if I grew up in love with him. His love was all I knew and he so kind, and soft, and thoughtful, and…” For once, talking about him felt therapeutic. “He showed me what true love felt like. He opened my eyes to so many things. He supported me in whatever I wanted to do. He was perfect for me in every way.”

Jeongguk stayed silent but attentive. The steam that once wafted from his cup dissipated as the milk grew cold once more.

“He was sunshine personified. Whenever he was in a room, everyone would smile, no matter how down they felt. He could talk to anyone and make a friend. He was so smart. I don’t think there was one person that saw an enemy in Hoseok. I was so excited to start a family with him.” Your thoughts drifted again. The hardest part was the babies you never got to hold. “But I think I have finally accepted his death.”

Jeongguk seemed afraid to move or breathe when you finally mustered the courage to look at him. His eyes were wide as he listened to you.

“I was so caught up in my own grief that I didn’t stop to think what he wanted. Yes, I know, he was dead. But what he wanted, alive or dead, was for me to be happy. It was like his life purpose was to make me happy when all he had to do was simply be in my presence. I was selfish because I felt like my happiness had been torn from me when he had never left. I had small pieces of him everywhere around me. I ignored it all and let the sadness consume me.”

What you were going to say next would make or break anything that happened tonight. Whether it ended in your favor or not, having it off your chest would help you sleep at night.

“Then I met you.” You smiled as you looked at him, eyes shining in the overhead lights. “You seemed to know me better than I knew myself. You pulled me out of that cloak of depression, and I was so fucking afraid that I just left you with no explanation. You started showing me a different kind of love, even though it was friendship at first and it scared me. I felt like I was betraying him by experiencing this new feeling. You never did anything wrong. You befriended me when you didn’t have to, and you were patient with me as I came out of my shell and I took advantage of that. You don’t deserve anything I did to you, Jeongguk.”

His lips were pursed, and concern was evident on his face. He seemed as if he were struggling for something to say.

“I can fully say now that I do love you. I realize now that I have loved you for a while, but never wanted to come to terms with it. I understand if you don’t reciprocate those feelings, but I just need you to know that and how sorry I am.”

Silence fell between you again before he sighed heavily. You braced yourself for rejection.

“It was wrong what you did,” he began. You felt the sting but knew you deserved it. “I was so worried about you. When you started ignoring me completely; leaving the food, ignoring my texts…fuck, ____, I even went to your house and knocked on your door. I spent days sick to my stomach. When I finally saw you in town one day, I was able to breathe because at least I knew you were still functioning and alive—” His voice broke for a second. Every bit of hurt he was dealing you right now was deserved. “I let you go. I’ll admit that I let you go.”

This was what you deserved.

“But god dammit,” his voice broke as he began to cry, “if I were to say I didn’t love you that would be the biggest fucking lie I ever told.”

All at once you felt relief, but also a deep-seated fear. Just because he said he loved you did not mean he had forgiven you. You wanted to look away as he cried, the tip of his nose turning red. You didn’t know how long you’d have to make up for this, if he gave you the chance at all. His tears fell for a few seconds and you had to resist the urge to reach out and brush them away. He sniffed as they dried before looking at you.

“I need time. I need time to take all this in and think about it.”

You nodded sadly. This was the least you could do for him.

“You can stay here tonight. This weather is too bad. I’ll set you up a place to sleep, okay?”

He didn’t look at you as he left the kitchen to prepare the extra room.

That night, your sleep was restless. It was filled with nightmares of Jeongguk screaming at you and others where Hoseok were still alive. Once again, the horrible nightmares you had escaped, slowly crept back into your life.

Four years later

The day was dreary, just like you felt. The rain was a mist as it came down on your hair. You could feel it frizzing instantly and you felt gross as it began to slowly permeate your clothes. Everything hurt. Your feet, your knees, your back, your shoulders…you name it, it hurt. Your depression was a little worse today; the pain only amplified it. Your doctor had changed your medication, safely, saying it was normal to feel this way, that you would make it through together. She was such a good doctor. You sighed heavily, shifting the bag in your hand as you walked. There weren’t very many people in town right now because of this disgusting weather that sat over it for the last two days.

Things had gotten better. You were still in therapy working through all your issues in life, but things really had gotten better. Just the blues right now. Something that would pass. You had been through it before. Your good days were starting to outweigh your bad. Now that you were so close to the end.

You pressed your hand against your back wishing there were someone there to punch it for you. You really should have brought an umbrella.

You trudged wearily out of town and closer to home, wishing maybe to have taken the car if it were only a five minute drive. But you had insisted that a walk is what you needed.

Wrong.

Your home rose ahead of you finally and you sighed in relief. The lights were on and you knew it would be warm inside. You used the last bit of your tired strength as you pushed open the door and stepped inside. Something smelled good.

Kyongni greeted you with a series of meows as she wove in and out of your legs.

“Oof, Kyongni, hold on,” you said as you struggled to bend over and pet her head. She purred contentedly as you scratched her ears and neck. “I gotta go deliver these.” You stood as straight as you could, closing your eyes for a second, and letting the air out of your cheeks. When you had convinced yourself to walk again, you stepped into the kitchen.

Jeongguk was at the stove stirring something in a pot when you walked in.

“It started misting again?!” he said in surprise as he turned around and looked at you. He walked over to you quickly and took the bag. “I’m so sorry, I could have driven you there.”

“No big deal. I had no idea.” You moved slowly over to the large armchair by Bungeoppang’s hammock and fell into it. “Just kinda put a damper on my mood I guess.”

“Well, I’m making you some soup. It’ll also help with the queasiness.” He grabbed a couple of the things you had bought from the bag, added it to the pot, and was soon dolling out the savory smelling dish into a bowl. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks and a spoon before he carefully carried it towards you and sat it on the side table next to you. When it was delicately placed, he slowly moved, hovered over you as you reclined in the seat willing your body to relax. His hands came down gently on either side of your swollen belly. The baby moved a little as Jeongguk pressed a little harder and his laugh was light.

“He’s happy,” he commented.

“He heard your voice. He was still on the way home, thankfully. My back is killing me.”

“I can massage it for you after you’re done eating, but you need to eat.”

He leaned down and kissed your stomach before he placed a quick one to your lips. Then he left you to eat while he cleaned up before serving himself. You watched as he moved around the kitchen. The years had been kind to him. He kept his hair long, which you loved. The tea shop was still thriving, and you couldn’t wait for the day when your son was old enough to share in Jeongguk’s passion.

Hoseok’s sixteen volume saga was now put away nicely on the shelf in your home, having moved in with Jeongguk after dating for a while and then eventually marrying. Tucked away in its pages sat the note he had written and from time to time you would take it out, unfold it carefully, and read the words lovingly. A thousand paths did await your footsteps, but the one you stood firmly on now was clear and full of bright sunlight. Your first wedding song did not bring the sadness it once did, you listened to it with a deep fondness, usually in private on days you missed him the most. Now, you had a new wedding song that could lift your spirits on some of your worst days. You were married to a man that did not feel like he needed to replace anyone but loved you fully for your flaws and past. The love you felt for Jeongguk was insurmountable, new, different, and everything you needed.

It had all started with what felt like magic, a tea shop settled oddly, almost at an angle between two buildings. It gave off a magical aura with its soft, gray brick, glass rippling with sunlight. A green door with intricate wood carvings greeted you as you pushed it open. You still remembered the spicy smells from that day, but what you remembered the most was a boy in a soft sweater, hair falling into his eyes as he greeted you with a bright hello.

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btswriterscollective #jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #magic shop #update #jungkook x reader #reader insert #nonidol!au #teashopowner!jjk #bts fluff #bts angst

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makoodlesarchive · 4 years

Text

a gift

pairing: bakugou x reader

summary: drunk reader finds a kitten in an alleyway and brings it home to surprise their boyfriend bakugou. it doesn’t quite go to plan

word count: 2030

i uploaded this last night but apparently it didn’t work properly ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so here we go again

It was possible, that you were maybe, a little bit drunk.

You stumbled a little on a kerb, but managed to keep yourself on your feet as you clutched the little furry bundle in your arms to your chest. A quiet giggle bubbled out of your lips, but you kept hurrying along in the darkness - it really wasn’t a good idea to be out on your own at night on the streets, especially while drunk, but it had been your coworkers birthday party and you would have felt guilty if you had missed it. Still, maybe the rum had been a bad idea.

Your pocket was buzzing. You squinted down at it, puzzled. It buzzed twice more before you realised it must be your phone ringing, and then you fumbled to answer it one-handed. “Hello.” you said, hoping you sounded at least a little sensible.

There was a pause, before you heard. “[Y/N]?”

“Katsuki!” you tried to whisper, but it came out far too loud. You frowned, puzzled, then tried again. “Katsu-ki!” it came out quieter that time and you smiled, satisfied.

“Where are you?” he sounded irritated, but you knew him well enough to be able to hear the subtle undercurrent of amusement in his tone.

“On my way home.” The furry little bundle in your arms squirms a little, and you peer down at it in delight. “I have a gift for you!”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” you turn left at the donut shop on the corner, and put a little more speed in your step as you come up to your apartment. “I found it in an alley, just now.”

“You’re bringing me something you found in a fucking alley as a gift? How fuckin’ drunk are you?”

“Tipsy!” you correct with a frown. You struggle for a moment to find the keys to the front door with one hand, the other arm cradling your precious find while your shoulder kept the phone pressed against your head. “Are you coming over?”

“It’s 2am, idiot.”

“Okay.” you say easily, keeping your voice low as you slip in the front door; the walls are thin in your building, and the last thing you need is Mrs Namamoto from down the hall giving you another lecture on keeping the noise down. You don’t think you’ll ever forgive her for her claims that your ‘heavy gait’ keeps her awake at night.

“Tch.” Bakugo said, then paused for a long moment. When he spoke again, there was a vein of forced casualness in his voice. “I’m on my way.”

“You don’t have to.” You press the button for the elevator, listening to the rattling sounds of it approaching.

“Fuck off. I’ll be there in a few.”

“I can just see you tomorrow, Katsi.” you say as the elevator arrives and you absently press the button for your floor. “It’s no big deal, you don’t have to go out of your way or anything.” Fatigue has hit you now, probably as a result of the alcohol. You feel sleepy, and listening to Katsuki’s deep, rumbly voice always has a way of relaxing you further.

“Whatever, asshole. I’m nearby anyway.”

You smiled at the tinny sound of the wind whistling through the phone. “Nearby? At 2am?”

“You got a problem with that, fucker?” Katsuki said, a little bit too fast and a little bit too breathlessly for it to be entirely believable.

You laugh a little as you step out onto your floor, and as you step up to your door the little animal in your arms stirs. You had found the kitten in the alleyway outside the bar your work friends had been in, where she had been rustling through the garbage rummaging for something to eat. Scooping her up and bringing her home had seemed like the right thing to do - she was so small and thin, you didn’t like to think of what might happen to her if she was left on her own in that dank alley.

“Hello, pretty baby.” you coo as the kitten blinks up at you, slow and lazy. The alcohol turns your words a little syrupy and they slip out slower than you’d intended, but at least you’re not slurring.

”Who are you talking to?” Katsuki asks, a little suspicious now.

“Hm?” you ask, heading for your small living room. You had almost forgotten you were still on the phone, distracted by the little ball of fur in your arms. “You’ll see in a few minutes!” Your balance is a little off, but you manage to curl up on your beat up old couch without disturbing the kitten.

The sound of Katsuki’s impatient tongue clicking sounds distant over the phone, but the familiarity of it still makes you smile. You position the kitten carefully on your chest, making soft little cooing sounds to try and keep her docile and unafraid; it seems to work, because she lays passively just below the hollow of your throat, taking in her surroundings with dark eyes. She’s such a sweet little thing, so mild and gentle.

“Few blocks away now, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

You hum, satisfied at the thought of seeing your boyfriend in a few short minutes. “Guess you weren’t that close by at all, huh?” you laugh a little as Katsuki grumbles, and run a hand down the kitten’s skinny back. The fur is oily and a little matted in some places, no doubt as a result of the time she spent on the street. Your heart goes out to her, and you sigh quietly as you pet her. She doesn’t purr, which you find a little odd, but then you consider the fact that this might be her first contact with humans and you get sad all over again.

You doze off, just for a few moments, but come back fully into wakefulness at the sound of the door to your apartment creaking open. The kitten has fallen into a light doze of her own, and so you sit up with the utmost care as you watch your boyfriend slide into the living room. “Katsuki.” you whisper, beaming as your thumb strokes the length of the kitten’s back.

“Did I wake you-” he begins, but he breaks off as soon as he turns his eyes your way.

Your beam just gets bigger, and you gaze at him excitedly. “It’s a kitten!”

Katsuki stands frozen, still half bent over from toeing his shoes off. His mouth hangs open, his forehead scrunched. It’s not his usual scowl. “Ah.” he says, sounding strangled.

Your smile falters a little, confused by his unenthusiastic reaction. You had thought he would be more excited - the more you sober up though, the more you start to wonder if your lack of impulse control had impaired your judgement. It might have been the rum, either. “I want to keep her.”

“[Y/N].” Katsuki says, approaching slowly. You frown at him, a little bewildered at the uncharacteristic caution he was displaying; it’s not as though you were going to attack him. “That… is a rat.”

You gasp, scandalised, and pull away from him as he approaches, clutching the kitten to your breast. “Katsuki!” you snap. “How could you say that? She’s underfed and a little ragged, maybe, but she’s been living on the streets! She just needs a little love and care! What the hell is wrong with you!”

“With me?!” Katsuki shouts reflexively, then squeezes his eyes shut tight and takes a deep, forced breath. When he speaks again his eyes remain shut, but his voice is steadier. “Babe. That’s a rat. Give it to me now. It might be diseased.”

You stare at him, hurt, bewildered, and still a little tipsy. “I think I know what a rat looks like, Katsuki.” you sniff, but you can’t help the doubt that begins to creep in and you steal a look down at the kitten(?) that is still laying pliantly in your arms. Grey/black fur, little pink nose, rounded ears, long hairless tail.

You blink at her, feeling a bit betrayed. “Right. Okay. Hm. This is a rat.”

“Give it to me.” Katsuki says, his voice stiff with forced calm.

“No!” you blurt, holding the kitten rat protectively. “I rescued her.”

Katsuki’s shoulders twitch, his jaw clenching against his aborted movement. His calm is beginning to crack around the edges. “I think,” he growls, “It was probably happy where it was. Give it to me, before it decides to go feral and chew your dumb face off.”

He’s right, obviously, but you still frown. You can’t help but feel protective over the little guy. “Lots of people have pet rats.”

“Yeah, but not sewer rats found in alleyways, idiot.” Katsuki’s calm facade fractures, but the look he shoots down at the rat in your arms is a combination of panic and disgust with very little of his usual annoyance mixed in. “Has it scratched you anywhere? Or bitten you? You could get really fucking sick.”

“No.” you say quickly, adjusting your hold on the dozing animal. “She’s been a perfect angel!”

Now it’s Katsuki’s jaw that twitches from where he’s clenching it so tight. “Of course it has.”

“I don’t see why she can’t stay.” you say, scratching the rat behind its ear. She flicks her tail, but otherwise sits placidly still.

“Because it’s a rat!”

“I let you stay!”

Katsuki’s nostrils flare dangerously. “At least I ain’t gonna eat you in your sleep!”

You pout. “Aw.”

Katsuki momentarily looks like he’s going to explode, his palms sparking ominously until he clenches them tight into fists. “Let it sleep on the fire escape.” he says at last, apparently having come to the conclusion that you’re not going to back down about this. “Decide whether you’re gonna keep the gross fuckin’ thing in the morning.”

You bite at your lip sharply, thinking. It’s becoming increasingly obvious that your ridiculous, emotionally-constipated boyfriend is worried about you, and you don’t like causing him stress. Besides, his suggestion really isn’t all that bad. You just hope the little guy will be there in the morning and that she doesn’t wander off in the night. “Okay.” you say quietly, and a little reluctantly.

Katsuki exhales, quick and sharp, then stands to make room as you move off the couch, still clutching the rat. “Don’t let it fuckin’ bite you.” he says, hovering at your shoulder as you move toward the still open window. “Watch it!”

You set the rat down very gently on the fire escape, and watch as it moves immediately to the corner and begins sniffing around. Now that you’re looking at it from a bit of a distance, you’re really not altogether sure how you had mistaken it for a kitten; you supposed you could blame that on the rum, too. “She’s a good rat.”

“Right.” says Katsuki, a little doubtfully. He frowns mistrustfully at the rodent, who has started to wash its face with its paws, and then at you when you awww over it. “You’re such a dumbass. D’you know how many diseases they carry? It’d be fuckin’ embarrassing if you’d had to be hospitalised cause you got scratched by some gross rat.”

“Lucky I didn’t then, hm?” you smile in an attempt to appease him.

His scowl remains fixed for a moment or two, then his shoulders relax and he presses a kiss to your temple. “Don’t put yourself at risk like that again.” he says seriously, then adds hesitantly, “It was...a nice thought, I guess. I want a better present next time.”

Grinning, you reach up to cradle his face, only for him to catch you by the wrists. “Shower first.” he says, grimacing at your hands and making you laugh for real. The sound of your laughter pulls a genuine warm smile from him as he directs you towards the bathroom.

It’s when you reach the bathroom that you hear a low chuckle, and you look back to see Katsuki shaking his head a little. “What?”

It’s Katsuki’s turn to grin at you, his white teeth flashing in the dim bathroom light. “I’m just thinking about how much Kirishima is going to love this story.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader

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rosesgonerogue · 4 years

Text

I didn’t so much fall in love - It kicked me in the face Chapter One

Everyone had thought that Marinette was crazy for choosing Gotham as the first city in America to accept a high-profile job, specifically a job that would require her in person. Despite all of the logical arguments against it, however, Marinette could feel it in her bones that this was where she was supposed to be. It felt like divine intervention beyond that of the usual kwami antics in her life.

At that very moment, though, she had never wanted to curse the universe more.

She tore through the unfamiliar streets, heart hammering in her chest. She wanted to shout his name, scream it from the rooftops, but she knew all too well justs how dangerous that would be. After all, she’d only just barely gotten away from the Scarecrow herself.

“Tikki, where is he?” Marinette whispered, tears stinging her eyes. “I can’t lose him, I just…”

“We will find him, Marinette,” she said, determined. “He can’t have gone far, and he knows how to keep himself safe. You’re still emotional from the fear toxin.”

“But Gotham is so dangerous! I knew I should have left him home.”

The kwami did her best to comfort the guardian, but she felt the same desperation growing with every minute.

“He wouldn’t have gone this far, Tikki, what if he-”

“Maman!”

As she whipped around, Marinette’s frantic, fear-toxin addled mind locked onto two facts: her precious son was alive and well, and he was in the clutches of a costumed man.

She felt her heart rate spike, and everything she had learned and experienced as Ladybug boiled down to this one moment. In short, the man never stood a chance.

“Ma’am, I-”

As the stranger spoke, Marinette pivoted on her right heel, her left heel colliding with the man’s jaw with a sickening crunch. It was too fast for the average eye to see, and the man was felled in a moment, going down with a strangled grunt.

Gathering Leo into her arms, she sprinted away, heartbeat still hammering in her chest.

“Maman, he’s nice,” Leo said in French. “He helped me, we were looking for you. He’s a hero, like Ladybug.”

“Marinette, you really need to go make sure he’s okay!” Tikki said, distressed. “If you explain about the fear toxin, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Finally her feet began to falter, the exercise further clearing the toxin from her mind. She squeezed Leo in her arms, horror mounting. “Oh no. I just roundhouse kicked one of Gotham’s vigilantes, didn’t I?”

“I think so, Marinette.”

It felt like a walk of shame, but when she made it back to the vigilante, he had at least propped himself up against a nearby wall. He was groaning, clutching his jaw.

“Excuse me, Monsieur?” she said hesitantly. “I, uh, I’m the one who ki- oh no, is your jaw dislocated? I am so sorry! I didn’t- I mean, I just, there was fear toxin from Scarecrow, and I’m not from Gotham, and I was so worried about my son, and… I’ll stop talking now. I’ve fixed dislocated jaws before. May I help you?”

The vigilante - through process of elimination, he must be Red Robin - stared up at her with wide eyes. He didn’t exactly say no, so Marinette kneeled down beside him.

“The pain will get a lot better once I’m done,” she promised, discreetly harnessing the barest traces of magic to help this go smoothly. She’d done this for Chat Noir more than once, and as Guardian of the Miraculous, she had access to more than a little bit of healing magic. Red Robin looked more uneasy by the second, so Marinette just went for it.

Sliding her fingers into the right position, she pushed down on his back teeth, simultaneously guiding his jaw back up into place, a burst of magic taking the brunt of the pain from him.

Red Robin jerked backwards, working his jaw a few times. “Thank you?”

“I am so sorry!” Marinette repeated, standing and offering a hand to help up the vigilante. “There will still be a bruise for a few days. I promise I don’t make a habit of kicking vigilantes in the face.”

He stood with her help, only looking a little dizzy. “Don’t worry about it, there were extenuating circumstances. If you don’t mind me asking, though, where are you from? If Gotham’s civilians were half as deadly as you are, our streets would be a lot safer.”

“Paris, sir. My son Leo and I just arrived here tonight, actually. We were on our way to our hotel when we were caught up in one of Scarecrow’s attacks and I told him to run and hide. Does that mean you found him?”

“Yes ma’am. You have a very well-behaved son,” he said, careful to keep his posture as harmless as possible. “And while you are obviously a capable defender, it would help me put my mind at ease if you let me walk you to where you’re staying.”

She hoisted Leo up into her arms, the familiar weight soothing her. “Are you sure you want to? I very nearly broke your jaw five minutes ago.”

“And you put everything back where it should be. Now where are you staying?

*************************

Tim couldn’t deny that he was intrigued by the woman in front of him. Not to mention she was attractive, but doubtlessly married. Anyone that wonderful in general had to be taken.

What he fixated on, though, was her skill. Thinking her child was in danger would definitely be grounds for an adrenaline rush, but her movements were too controlled and practiced for it to be a fluke. Tim couldn’t have dodged her if he had tried. He didn’t think any of his brothers could have either, maybe not even Bruce.

She was staying in a nicer hotel in Gotham, owned by Bruce, of course. When they arrived, Tim couldn’t stop himself from lingering in front of the hotel longer than strictly necessary, trying to do something, anything to understand the woman before him. He stayed in the shadows until they were out of sight, and even then he stayed a while yet, staring at where she had stood.

The rest of his patrol was short, and he got back home about the same time as the others. When he slipped in, Jason was in the middle of telling Dick a story.

“-and so I went in thinking it would be a normal hostage situation, but no. Right before I can get in, the door flies open and this girl runs out like a bat out of hell. She just vanishes into the night without a trace. I go in and the Riddler is already trussed up like a pig for the slaughter. I swear, I could marry that girl.”

“Was she French?” Tim demanded, blatantly eavesdropping.

Jason turned to meet his eyes, scrutinizing his brother. “And how would you know that, replacement?”

“I ran into her after that. She has a kid, and I found him. She dislocated my jaw when she thought I was trying to take him.”

Damian snorted. “Did she damage your delicate ego along with your delicate face?”

“Isn’t it your bedtime?” Tim fired back. “After all, it is a school night and we know how much you need your beauty sleep.”

“She really dislocated your jaw?” Dick asked, looking thoughtful.

“With a roundhouse kick. She put it back into place too.”

“Not just anyone can do that. Maybe we need to keep a closer eye on this girl.”

“We can do some research tomorrow,” Bruce said, appearing out of thin air. “Go to sleep, all of you. Tomorrow we have the meeting with MDC and we need to make a good impression. Tim, that includes you. No more caffeine until you’ve had at least six hours of sleep.”

Normally Tim would have chafed under Bruce’s orders - he was a grown man and CEO of Wayne Enterprises, after all. But for once he felt like he could actually sleep, without nightmares, even.

He was meeting his favorite fashion designer tomorrow, after all. For some reason his thoughts were consumed by a certain French woman, however. Just before he drifted off to sleep, he idly wondered what color her eyes were.

A/N: I'd never really experienced being baby-hungry before, and then quarantine happened and I wasn't able to see my nieces and nephews for over a month. During that time a good number of my friends announced that they were pregnant, and I miss being surrounded by children. This is super self-indulgent, so I don't really take criticism. If this isn't your cup of tea, move along. Also don't be surprised if you see more kid fics coming your way. I have had entirely too much time missing the children in my life, so I also have a Daminette thing partially written, and several other ideas screaming at me. If you want to be tagged, let me know!

#timinette #maribat #marinette x tim

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anonymousbaev · 3 years

Note

Rfa + minor trio being jealous seeing mc with another member pls. ty if u do :DDD

*Angst* RFA+Minor Trio being jealous seeing Mc dating another member.

Enjoy! (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) *Angst and NSFW warning*

☆Yoosung☆

"Congratulations..." They were the words he sent in the chatroom when you and Seven made it official.

Only he knew they were empty words though.

He really liked you, hoping to confess to you one day. Sometimes he had even imagined having a family with you.

But that was just how deeply he loved you.

Somedays he would just wish you'd broken up with Seven and ran into his widely opened arms.

Somedays he would wonder if it would've been him by your side if he had confessed his love a day sooner.

He always cursed himself out for thinking that way afterwards though.

He should be happy.

He has to be happy, for his two precious friends.

He avoided you and Seven for months, years... putting on a bitter smile when he had run into you at a RFA party occasionally.

It felt like he was trapped in a nightmare, he knew he had to get his feelings over with. But he just couldn't let you go so easily...

It wasn't until Seven proposed to you, in front of all the guests and members at the party.

He kept repeating the words in his head, "Please say no, please say no, please say no..."

But of course, you agreed and Yoosung sent you both his second congrats.

A few years later he started dating a girl he met at his vet.

Yoosung eventually got married to her and he was able to treat you and Seven the way he had before everything.

Yoosung and his new wife would never have the same connection he did with you though.

I mean she didn't have to go through getting compared with Rika.

He was happy with her, and you were happy with Seven.

He told himself, he was content with his life. And, he eventually came to believe it.

☕️ Jaehee ☕️

When Jaehee found out about your relationship with Zen through the radio, she joked that she was offended she had to find out through the internet and not personally by you or Zen.

She was confused about her feelings at first, she knew she was feeling jealous... but towards who?

She brushed off her feelings, convincing herself it was a neutral fangirl jealousy.

That wasn't until she found out how Zen broke your heart during an argument and you stayed at her house.

She felt so angry, how could he do that to you? He should've cherished you, loved you, because that's what you deserved-

That's when she realized, those feelings... weren't towards Zen but towards you.

Without even realizing it, her feelings for you have gotten so deep, she fell in love with you.

But it was too late when she did, because you were able to make up with Zen and you even told her you were going to get married to him.

That officially broke her.

She kept a straight face, continuing to work at her café for 2 years.

That was when you announced your pregnancy and even her hard metaled heart delicately snapped.

She cried silently in her house as she read your chats.

"Why am I crying?... I should be happy for her..." she repeated those words as she cried herself to sleep.

The next day she told the RFA she was going to leave, in order to travel the world to further her knowledge in her business.

You were sad, everyone was. But she promised to keep in touch.

She was able to keep her promise for a year. Until she fell out of touch with everyone, even you. And you used to be her best friend...

You were upset, why did she suddenly block you out of her life?

But only Jaehee and god would know how you had unknowingly broke her heart, because you never heard from her again.

♬ Zen ♬

Why did it have to be that trust fund kid, out of everyone else?

Himself for example... either way he just wanted you to be happy.

But sometimes he would wonder, if he had gone more less with those flirtatious jokes, would it be him next to you?

Did you think his flirts were nothing but a casual way of joking like Jumin told you?

Now only he would know, that he was being serious. That all those 'lighthearted' flirts sincerely came from his heart.

The way you were strong enough to have everyone open up to you, and the way you sincerely cared for everyone of them.

He fell in love with you, and he knew he would never be able to find another person like you.

But he tried his best to get over you. He still wanted to remain friends at the very least.

If he wanted that, he had to accept your relationship with Jumin...

Zen tried to love someone else, a beautiful woman he had worked with in one of his movies.

But when he saw you come in to congratulate him as Jumin held your waist his heart broke.

Eventually though, he proposed to the woman and at the wedding he felt shame because in the church, at his wedding with someone that wasn’t you...

He thought you were the most beautiful woman there.

“Why are these feelings still lingering?!”

Years passed... later finding out his wife has had several affairs, but he wasn’t one to judge. When he still had you in his heart.

He lived his life solely for his career in a loveless marriage life, until he finally shattered. He couldn’t take these feelings anymore, and when he left, nobody has heard of him again.

♛ Jumin ♛

It seemed as if he was cursed.

Every woman he had fallen in love with, the only two woman he’d felt emotions to, they all belonged to Kim Jihyun.

Although he’d never showed it, when you and Jihyun announced your wedding, he was bitter, “Already? Did you two even get to know each other, after all that happened with Mint Eye?”

He drowned himself in wine, everyday.

One day he even sat curled up on the floor as he soothed Elizabeth the 3rd in his arms as he whispered, “Nobody will take you from me...”

The past months he’d been out of character and he was aware of that.

Eventually, he was slowly able to return to his old self again but the only things that surrounded him in his life was his cat, work, and wine.

He never wanted to feel those emotions for you again because they were painful to get over. But had he truly, gotten over you?

He would’ve done everything to make you his if you didn’t belong to his best friend, and he knew V deserved his happy ending, after everything he had been through.

But what about himself?

You had a feeling, something wasn’t right. Jumin was different.

And everything poured out when all three of you went to get dinner, all the emotions stacked up spilled out in a single second.

The next morning you found yourself in Jumin’s bed as he slept next to you shirtless, with your clothes also coldly left on the floor, your heart dropped.

Then, you looked to your left to find Jihyun also sleeping next to you.

That was the start of your relationship, all three of you came to the negotiation that the two men would share you, to which you gladly accepted, because it was your idea.

You were sure it was a great idea because all three of you were totally content on it.

Others would point fingers, while some would worry, “Isn’t history repeating itself? Maybe not in the same way... but in a ominous way just like before. They’re dragging themselves into a toxic relationship again.”

You and the two friends didn’t care though, because all three of you was sure this was an absolute fantasy...

👓 Saeyoung 👓

With all the flirty jokes the two of you would send, everyone that had seen you and Saeyoung, they were sure you and he had a fling.

That’s what Saeyoung thought as well, that there was something between the two of you, but you must’ve only seen him as a friend because he was paralyzed for minutes as he watched you in Zen’s apartment.

You and Zen knocked down furniture desperate to embrace one another as your lips pressed against his, eager for his touch.

When Zen turned you against the wall as his slender hands reached under your skirt, Saeyoung didn’t want to see anymore.

He wanted to give you both the privacy, but it was also because he couldn’t bare the pain of watching you anymore.

That’s when he noticed Saeran behind him with his ice cream. “Was that Mc?”

Saeyoung nodded with a grin to act like he was fine as he tried getting back to work, Saeran rolled his eyes and threw away his finished ice cream in the trash.

That was when Saeyoung finally broke down, and he wasn’t sure why because he used to always tell himself he would be ready when this day came.

When he tried focusing on his work and it seemed impossible, Vanderwood offered him to come back to the agency. Saeyoung accepted the offer.

He grows further from the RFA and more immersed in his works, but still occasionally enters the chatroom to see how you’re doing.

His heart stings with a bitter smile when he sees the selfies Zen uploads with you and your son that has the same white hair and scarlet eyes as your now husband.

He’s happy to see you with a good life, a good life he thinks he was never capable of giving you...

🌚 Saeran 🌚

When he came home and started to live with his twin he’d been separated from for years, it’d be a lie if he said it wasn’t uncomfortable living with you as well.

He barely knew you except for the fact that you were Saeyoung’s girlfriend.

That was until Saeyoung eventually had to get back to his hacking work after devoting his months of time to Saeran alone.

You started taking care of Saeran, and it was awkward at first because he didn’t want you anywhere near him. The first two months were full of him just screaming and attacking you.

But eventually he realized how patient, loving and sincerely caring you were.

You became the only person he wanted to be touched by, and he wanted to be the only person able to touch you.

Of course he’d never said anything because you were the girlfriend of his brother.

Sometimes you would even give him cuddles, only supposed to be friendly hugs but Saeran didn’t think the same, because he loved you. In a different way from how you loved him.

When he couldn’t trust himself from you anymore he told you to stop coming near him.

It hurt you, because you didn’t know why, but you agreed.

You and Saeyoung never noticed how painful it was for Saeran when you kissed, and hugged each other in front of him.

He sealed his emotions away... for the happiness of his twin, and you, because he knew damn well his brother was good at making you feel loved.

♧ V ♧

He saw you as an angel, one that’d helped him realize the toxic of his relationship with Rika, one that’d helped him realize he was capable of real love.

But he had felt lost when he knew that the person he would experience true love with would never be able to be you.

Because you were already with Jumin, and V would never interfere with that, Jumin was his best friend, and he knew how well Jumin cherished you as his wife.

Whenever the people around V would ask him when he would find a new lover, he brushed it off. Sometimes hinting that he would probably never.

They all assumed it was because he had never truly gotten over Rika, but little did they know he had already realized it was never love.

Yes, the lingering feeling of guilt may have been still over him, but you were the one in his heart. He always caught himself staring at you at parties.

V wanted to avoid these feelings because he knew the dangers of it.

He avoided you and Jumin as he focused on his art, and Jumin didn’t have the time because he was always busy with you or work.

You noticed Jumin and Jihyun slowly falling out of touch. So you arranged dinner at a restaurant.

You drank until you were drunk.

V chatted with Jumin, it was a neutral talk between friends. They decided to drink until their hearts desires that night.

V was eventually the last one half sober with his high drinking metabolism while Jumin fell drunk next to you on the table.

V rests his head on his arms as he admired you for what felt like hours.

That was when he lightly placed his cold hands and lightly brushed your cheeks.

It was an selfish move, one that he would only know of. He softly apologized to the both of you and called Jumin’s driver to pick the two of you up before leaving.

The next morning, Jumin told you Jihyun had left to travel somewhere with the promise that he would be back one day, when he had gotten over his feelings. You and Jumin didn’t know what feelings he had been talking of but hoped he’d be back soon.

However the both of you gave up, when even phone calls wouldn’t reach him, and you were sure he’d never come back.

That was probably the first promise V gad ever broke.

🧸 Vanderwood 🧸

Vanderwood didn’t think much of you, just the fact that you were Saeyoung’s girlfriend.

But that was it, even when the two of you had occasionally lived together for a while when he was a “maid” for Saeyoung.

That was until he and Saeyoung came back from dangerous missions, wounds and scars all over their body, you would always scold them and treat their wounds.

The little actions you did for him fluttered his heart and he’d always feel envious seeing you with Saeyoung.

He drowned himself in work so he could distract himself from all the unnecessary feelings in his heart.

You would never have to find out about his feelings because there was no need.

You were as happy as you could be with Saeyoung and he didn’t need to ruin that.

He also didn’t really think he had a chance anyway.

But he knew what kind of dangerous job he and Saeyoung had.

So sometimes he’d wished you had just ditched Saeyoung and met someone with a far more normal life so Vanderwood would have to stop worrying about your wellbeing.

But at the same time he was glad you were Saeyoung’s girlfriend so he could always watch you from close.

Although you would never be his, close was enough for him.

Masterlist

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 3 years

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Ishqbaaz Liveblog, E1: Yeh Lo, Intro Waala Episode Aa Gaya

Nahi nahi, don't be afraid. I'll never leave IPK. I was just craving desi trash with our favorite tropes and classic scenes and @tellywoodtrash has convinced me that IB fits the bill rather spectacularly.

And since it's me - toh iska and things that could have been in IPK ka lamba segment toh hoga. And things that IPK did better.

In short it's this one clip of Omkara and Gauri that's been floating in my head, that's everything Khushi should've said to Arnav convinced me to watch this.

Beware, I'm very bhadda at liveblogging but please enjoy the ride.

Also - this is all for Gauri and TTji.

Love,

Episode 1 - Yeh Lo, Intro Waala Episode Aa Gaya

- Yo Ganpati, namaste.

- Full on K3G vibes with all the bros doing aarti.

- Aaah, Omkara ke baal. Totes need his shampoo.

- WTF, who's making himself a candle and doing live aarti to Ganpati - #ganpatinotimpressed.

- I already wanna kill the editor.

- Dadi/Nani (not sure) is cool. Okay she's Dadi.

- Dadi already giving romantic tips, I stan with Dadi. I love old people recounting prem kahanis. I don't get it, with Nani of IPK and Dadi of IB being so romantic, what happened with their grandsons?

- Aye haye, OG Ishqbaaz is Dadaji. DUDEEEE I'd legit watch a spinoff of badass Dadi and badass Dada in their 60s/70s! (Hate the echo effect, whyyyyy, Dadi is anyways doing mast acting, why do the effect).

- OK I LOVE DADI, SHE IS PRECIOUS AND I WANT A SPINOFF. SHE LOVES HER DEAD HUBBY SO MUCH. I'LL BE LIKE HER WHEN I'M OLD.

- Okay, despite having a great lovestory their oldest - Tej - seems off.

- YAY, he had bodyguards. But based on IPK experience the guards disappear post episode 1.

- Random chashma waala here, will he get slapped like Mool Rajani?

- Ok Tej dude is a film dialogue writer in his heart.

- Wait does Dadi have all crappy children.

- Shakti is weirddddd! Smart, but deceitful - I like his vibes, his dialogues and double standard. I like Shakti. OOOH BHAI BHAI RIVALRY. It's nice to see older characters have solid roles.

- KIS BAAT KO? KAUNSA BAAT BHOOL CHUKE? Aye haye, mystery vibes - yes. Back when everything was not released in promos and we had something to look forward to in the show.

- Arrey Dadi, none of your sons turned out happy?

- Ok, here's the comedy of the show - the bahus. THIS WOMAN IS MANORAMA'S COUSIN FOR SURE. I'm not happy they chose a dark skinned woman as a stereotype for comedy.

- Woah, we have an alcoholic here.

- How did these people end up with Om and Rudy? How did these two ka kids turn out ok?

- Double shut up and shut up? Lol.

- Wait so Dadi had great marriage but shit kids, yet her shit kids ended up having great kids? #sowhatdoesthatmean

- Hi Shivaay, ooh I like the music here.

- OOOH HI ANIKA! WITH LAAL DUPATTA! I like the softness in the music here. Surbhi is soooo young here! Wait they're already meeting?!

- SHIVAAY LOOKS NICE, HOPE HE DOESN'T OPEN HIS MOUTH AND SAY SOMETHING STUPID.

- OFC THEY ARE FATED.

- OFC THE sunglass nikaalna. Would he be a 4 lions hero if he didn't do that?

- Ugh, corruption in bhagvaangiri, FOLLOW THE LINE SHIVAAY!

- Anika, chill. Ah, VALID POINT! VALID POINT!

- Pandit ji, you totes not nice. You should prachaar equality and shit, not teach people about khandaan and stuff.

- Hah Anika, get that pandit ji! Yes woman you have your own identity.

- Hi Nakuul's blye eyes.

- AND THE GHOORING STARTS.

- I don't like the cgi mandir tho.

- SHIVAAY I WILL FREAKING SLAP YOU. HE BROKE ALL RECORDS. HE DIDN'T OPEN HIS MOUTH AND I WANT TO SLAP HIM? WTF? HE'S IN A MANDIR!

- GANESH JI, THROW A FLYING COCONUT AND-

- Le, meri jooti ke keemat bhi lele! Shivji, the dude you’re named after hates you too.

- Aah, Tej and all are behind making their kid the heir.

- Wait, comedy aunty ka beta is Shivaay? Yeh kaise hua?

- ANIKA CLASS LE ISKA! 4Lions has a different level of addiction to sunglass scenes.

- Oh I like the bg here!

- ARREY WHAT A SHOT! I TOLD YOU TO BREAK HIS HEAD AND YOU BROKE HIS CAR! ANIKA WE’RE TELEPATHICALLY CONNECTING RIGHT NOW!

*me and anika*

- I have to find this editor and ask why... why? Why this Matrix shot all of a sudden?

- Not a fan of the editing but what bg and what car breaking! Wah, I love this. DUDE TOTES DESERVES THIS!

- I’m anti violence but THIS IS PAYOFF!

- Why the wind tho? It’s not a Rabba Ve - I mean Jaana. So why the wind? Please for the love of God don’t play Oh Jaana, it was sweet as intro but they need time-- ok they started playing Oh Jaana.

- Don’t guys.... I loved this face off and the other music. Kyun?

- I will ship them, the show doesn’t need to make it obvious.

- EWW THE CGI OF PHONE BREAKING. I don’t like his aggression - bitwa needs help.

- OM IS HERE!!!! GUYS OM IS HEREEEEEEEEEEEE. CRORES? FOR BEING AN ARTIST? SIGN ME UP!

- OM IS CHASHMISH? Woah dude, you’re my weird alter ego with better hair. Also, I think you’d put the red lines later? But cool location. I already shipping you with Gauri <3

- Damn he’s handsome *cough cough* Long hair? Intellectual type? Focused? That’s my kryptonite.

- Dude is melancholic, with Kal Ho Na Ho in the bg. All ok boo? WOAH he’s TEJ’S SON???? No wonder dude’s got issues.

- Oh Dad Issues. Can’t call his dad dad... if my dad was Tej I’d... probs do the same.

- I can’t believe Shivaay is these two jokers ka beta.

- But I completely believe that Omkara is these two f-ck up’s son. Good job on casting and chemistry.

- OOOH, family rivalry. I like this. There’s shit lot to unpack.

- Poor Dadi.

- LOOOOL, RUDYYYY GONNA GET AN INTRO NOW!!!

- Aunty, question your own beta before other women.

- Hi Cutie! In our sweet line of NK, Joey <3 I feel older protective sis vibes towards this baby.

- Lol, Nani from IPK would get a heart attack seeing his dance on ‘Character Dheela!’

- Bhai bhakt, that’s good.

- Ah the middle generation of Oberois still having rivalry over heir shit.

- BROS PLEASE MAKE AN ENTRY TOGETHER. PROVE YOUR RUDE PARENTS WRONG.

- I PREDICTED THE FUTURE!

- I am Dadi right now.

- I’m preemptively getting mad at how they’re gonna ruin a show with a really good premise!

- The boys doing a total advertisement for themselves. Yeh lo, Tinder bios.

“I know you were trouble when you walked in,” Omkara Oberoi. Daddy Issues. Extremely intellectual. Hot. Has Brains. Even tempered. If Akash was expanded as a character with issues.

“I JUST MET YOU, THIS IS CRAZY, HERE’S MY NUMBER, CALL ME BABY” Rudy. Bhaiyas took all the brains so here are the brawns. This is NK in another universe.

“Who the fuck made my Tinder?” *crashes phone* Arnav who prays, with more issues, I didn’t think this was possible.

- The End -

Phew I enjoyed this - see me tomorrow with Episode 2!

#ib #ishqbaaz #jalebi watches something else #ishqbaaz liveblog #liveblog #tellywoodtrash made me do this #tere liye ttji

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starry-seongmin · 4 years

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Halloween Preparations - Pocket!Enhypen

a/n: so here it is..a bit lengthy than what I usually write. I may write another part focusing on Halloween if I get enough inspiration - Mia

themes: fluff

warnings: none

You were deep in thought when you felt a little pressure on your knee. You glanced down and saw Jungwon trying to climb his way up. With a little help from you, Jungwon now sat criss cross on your thigh, smiling up at you. “You seemed deep in your thoughts so I decided to assist you”, he spoke. Your heart warmed at the precious sight in front of you and you couldn’t help but pat his liddle head affectionately.

“Aww… I appreciate your help, Wonnie. I was thinking about your costumes for Halloween.”

Jungwon seemed excited at the mention of Halloween and costumes. “Have you thought about my costume yet?” he chirped, sitting straight. You nodded slowly, still not sure if it was your final answer. Then again, you also had to discuss it with the boys seeing as they were the one who would be wearing it. “What do you want to be for Halloween?” you ask the boy who held galaxies in his eyes. “Do you have anything in mind?”

He vigorously shook his head, an adorable pout on his face. “I can’t decide on one”, he complains. “I am stuck between Harry Potter, Tony Stark and Men in Black..Ni-ki said I can be Hinata if I dye my hair orange an-“

“You are not dyeing your hair… I was thinking about Harry Potter too and I’m not gonna deny it I imagined you in a lion costume and I may have died because of the cuteness”, you laugh. Jungwon gazed at you with the utmost love and admiration. “So Harry Potter is it then?”

You nod at his question and he gives a little cheer sending you in to another heart attack from cuteness overload. Okay so maybe you had the softest spot for him too… but you couldn’t blame yourself.

“Jake mentioned about being Flynn Rider earlier”, he says out of the blue, recalling the serious discussion he had with Jake and Heeseung about their costumes. “Oh he did..? I was hoping that Jake. Sunghoon and Jay would dress up as We Bare Bears…”, you couldn’t hide your disappointment from Jungwon whose smile faltered a bit. “Don’t worry, Y/N…why don’t you talk with them. I’m sure they’ll think about it”, Jungwon hated to see you be anything that was not happy, excited or anything along those lines.

Just then Ni-ki and Sunoo entered the room, using the skateboard as a boat and a chopstick each as oars. “What are we talking about?” Ni-ki pipes up as the both of them stop in front of the couch you and Jungwon were currently occupying. . “We were just talking about who wants to be what for Halloween”, Jungwon explains. He bitterly observes Ni-ki who nestles himself between your thumb and forefinger.

“I know about my decision!” Sunoo cries out while he’s in the middle of balancing himself on your shoulder. He carefully makes his way to stand right next to your face and with the brightest smile he could muster, kisses your cheek. “I want to be with you forever”, he exclaims, mentally giving himself a pat on the back.

Jungwon looked disgusted and Ni-ki even pretended to throw up at Sunoo’s words. You on the other hand were very used to the boys acting and talking like that and even found amusement at the others’ reaction and of course, adored how they would remind you how they appreciate and love you.

You let out a soft laugh and kiss the top of Sunoo’s head which further increases his ego as he looks at Jungwon and Sunoo with a smug look. “But what about Halloween?” you ask the two of them. “I want to be Michael Jackson!” Ni-ki exclaims excitedly and starts to moonwalk on the top of your hand which proves to be challenging. You giggle at the slight tickling sensation. “Ni-ki, honey…you were Michael Jackson last year”.

“Oh...”, the youngest boy frowns, now deep in thought. But soon enough his face lights up and he looks at you. He runs his hands through his hair, calculating to see if he could tie it up. “I can be a samurai! My hair is even long enough to tie it back!”, he shouts with joy. You hum, picturing him in a samurai outfit with a little plastic sword. “Perfect!”, you clap your hands. “And what about you, Sunoo?”, you address the boy who’s now playing with a loose thread from your shirt.

“I thought about it and I was stuck between Pennywise and The Mask but I think it’d be more fun as Pennywise”, he smiled, a mischevious glint in his eyes. Ni-ki sniggered and the both of them exchanged a knowing look. However, you and Jungwon were in the dark. “What are the two of you up to now?”, you asked, your tone warning. “He wants to scare Jay hyung”, Ni-ki replied and Sunoo chuckled in approval, nodding his head.

“What are you going to be?”, Jungwon asks, now lying on his stomach and head propped by his elbows. “I haven’t really decided yet..but I’ll come up with something” you reply. You feel Sunoo climbing down your arm and join Jungwon, settling on your thigh in the same position as him.

“You can be Granny from Baby Looney Tunes!”, Ni-ki claps in excitement. You chuckle at his eagerness. “Because I take care of you like she does? Hmm...not bad but won’t it be much better if you guys dress up as Bugs and Daffy and all the others?”, you ask which led the three of them fall into deep thoughts over the idea.

“We can dress up as them!”, Sunoo cries, sitting up. “It’ll be our own family costume!”, his excitement is contagious as the other two agree, their eyes bright and heads nodding eagerly.

“Why not...let’s talk about this with the others though.Like you guys said it’s a family costume..” The three boys cheer and then start to present their creative and at times, ridiculous ideas about celebrating Halloween this year. The night passes as you and your youngest boys spend a wholesome and happy moment together reliving past memories and having animated reactions.

Everyone knew that this year, Halloween would feel much more different but in the bestest way possible.

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killuaisaprincess · 2 months

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going to...?

Gon thinks he’s cute, and he’s on Gon’s bed…

Does that mean…

T-They’re gonna…

C-Cuddle?!

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

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The Tran-Cavill Grandkids

Henry = 79 / Olivia = 70 / Vanessa = 47 / Elodie = 40 / Heather and Chloe are 36

Olivia: We have 8 grandchildren. It has been sixteen years since I first became a grandmother, but I still have to get used to it.

Henry: I love being a granddad. I love everything about it, especially when they all come over and we have seventeen people over.

Oliver (16)

Olivia: Oliver is Chloe’s and Joon Ki’s first son and our oldest grandson. Chloe was still in college and scared out of her mind when she found out she was pregnant. I stayed over in her dorm from her twenty fifth week of pregnancy to the thirtieth, since poor thing was suffering from a lot of panic attacks and because of their different schedules, Joon Ki and her friends couldn’t be there for her. I forgot how disgusting those dorms were. After that, she took online classes, because she was really fatigued and uncomfortable. She stayed at our place again up until the birth.

Henry: When Oliver was born, my life stopped for a moment. I was officially a granddad. I mean, I always knew I wanted to become a father, but a granddad… I never really thought that far into the future. But Oliver is such a wonderful young man. Takes his job as the oldest grandchild very seriously.

Olivia: He comes over a lot, since our house is on the route when he goes home after school. He helps us with some chores or just comes over to drink some tea with us. Oliver even offers to do groceries for us every Saturday.

Dylan (14)

Henry: Dylan is Vanessa’s and Trey’s first son. We were delighted that we were going to be grandparents of two boys. However, it was pretty hard for Vanessa and that absolutely broke my heart. My poor girl was in a lot of pain and discomfort and there was nothing I could do about it.

Olivia: Vanessa became dehydrated pretty early on in her pregnancy, forcing her to quit her job. I actually quit my job too, because I realized that I needed to be there for her.

Henry: Finally, after all those years of her saying that just because I am rich, doesn’t mean she should stop working.

Olivia: Anyways, my poor baby was really out of it and I moved in with her and Trey for a while, because they obviously needed to prepare a lot for the arrival of their little boy. So Henry and Trey decorated the entire nursery, while Vanessa and I tried to come up with a birth plan, me telling her about the whole giving birth thing and how scary it can be. We even went to a few therapy sessions, simply to put her mind at ease.

Henry: However, Dylan was born ten weeks too early and it was a trying time for all of us. We spend so much time in the NICU. Thankfully the entire family stepped in to help Vanessa and Trey out. Dylan was a pretty weak baby, also really tiny and had troubles eating. Though he was sick and tired pretty often, he grew out to be such an amazing kid, who understands the limits he has and despite that, still manages to participate in certain sports. We are so proud of him.

Megan (9)

Olivia: It took five years before Vanessa got pregnant again and thankfully this pregnancy was easier on her. We were so excited when we found out she was pregnant with a little girl! Our first granddaughter. Megan is such a bright young lady. When she was four, she saw a picture of Henry having a tea parties with her aunts when they were around her age. The next time she came over, she brought a dress and her cups and saucers and forced Henry to partake.

Henry: I thought those days were over, but I’m a push over and I couldn’t say no to her. Megan is such a happy go lucky kid, with the most infectious giggle. I remember when she was a baby, she started to giggle and didn’t stop. Nowadays, she can just stare at you, before bursting out in a fit of giggles. She also forces me to dance with her, but thankfully every Tran-Cavill girl tells her that it’s for the best that I don’t dance.

Jake (8)

Henry: Jake is Chloe’s second second and that is one special kid. He was already dancing in the womb, according to the sonographer. I think he was only two months when I was playing some music in the background and Jake was in his seat. He started to move his arms right on the beat!

Olivia: He is now going to dance classes and I have to say: that kid knows how dance. He can appear to be a bit more introverted, isn’t really in your face when they come over to visit. All in all, he is a pretty timid kid, but the second he hears music or is on a stage, he dances his heart out. So amazingly talented! When he visits, he always gives us little previews of the dances he taught in class.

Kiki (4)

Henry: Heather was never the type of woman that dated. She was always more focused on her own career. It did shock me when she told us that she got pregnant and that she had to tell her boyfriend about it, since we all had no clue that she was even dating someone. Not even her own twin sister knew!

Olivia: What a fucking doorknob that guy was. Heather wanted me to join her, when she would tell this Tom dude she was pregnant. Turns out she really is a daughter of mine, because she found herself a man that is the spitting image of Wesley, appearance wise and personality wise. He got so mad when she told him and even had the audacity to tell Heather that she got knocked up by someone else. He really wasn’t hiding the fact that he was an idiot, because he told my sweet Heather all that, when I was right next to her! Long story short, I broke them up, slapped Tom in the face and threatened to kill him if he ever sought out to her or the baby.

Henry: That’s my girl.

Olivia: But Heather is a real trooper and manages to take care of Kiki just fine. Thankfully we love her dearly and didn’t kick her out, because she got pregnant out of wedlock (like my parents and brothers did). We are the go to baby sitter for Kiki and it’s so much fun to pick her up from school. It reminds me of the times that we would pick up our own girls from school.

Henry: Kiki is such a happy go lucky little girl. She is a ray of sunshine and we are so lucky and grateful that she is in our lives and that that idiot Tom is not. I fear the day that I run into him, because I will throw him in front of a bus. Accidentally of course.

Olivia: Henry, honey, remember: you’re nearing the ripe age of eighty. What if you break a hip or your wrist?

Lewis (14)

Olivia: So, Katie, Elodie’s wife, used to teach English in Secondary school, but after she lost her job, since her school had to close, she became a substitute for three months at another school. That’s where she met nine year old Lewis. According to her, he was a shy kid, but every day after school, he’d linger around the classroom and talked to Katie. He would help her out with cleaning up, make his homework and often they would walk out of the school together.

Henry: Unfortunately she had to leave after three months and according to her, it was pretty hard leaving Lewis. Two weeks after she left the school, she got a call in the middle of the night. The principal of that school informed her that Lewis was removed from his home by the police. The neighbors called it in, since they heard the abuse going on. Later on, it turned out that Lewis was the victim of abuse on a daily basis. He lingered in Katie’s class room to postpone the moment of going home to his father. He was in desperate need of someone who would take him into emergency foster care.

Olivia: However the only person he wanted to stay with, was Katie, so she and Elodie took him in. It was supposed to be for a week, but a week turned into a month and after a nasty trial, they officially adopted Lewis on his tenth birthday!

Henry: I remember him coming over for the first time. Maybe it was a bit mean to let him meet everyone at once, but despite his nerves, he managed quite well. Now we know Lewis as such a hardworking young man, who desperately tries to help others and makes sure that they can reach their full potential.

Stella (8)

Olivia: Elodie and Katie got into foster care a whole lot more seriously after they adopted Lewis and three years ago, they had to foster Stella, who had lost both of her parents in a tragic accident and there wasn’t anyone that could care for her. I remember Elodie and Katie having a bit of trouble with Stella, because she would lock herself up in her room and not talk to anyone.

Henry: It was hard, but Lewis swooped right in and the two of them had such long conversations. I think it was because of him that Stella opened up to her moms, but also to the rest of the family. She and Lewis are definitely partners in crime. She is quite something. Very mischievous and sneaky. She loves to scare people, hiding behind doors, but she doesn’t do it to us (thankfully), because she is afraid will scare ourselves a heart attack. So considerate.

Olivia: In a lot of ways she reminds me of Vanessa. She is very eloquent and uses fancy words to throw you off guard. I love taking her out with me, because, just like Vanessa, she “whispers" something to you (most likely she’s gossiping), but the people she is talking about, can always hear it. I know I shouldn’t condone this, but I love the faces of the people when they hear Stella say: ‘Grandma, why is that woman wearing those shoes? The straps are too tight. She looks like a ham.’

Henry: You allow that? You should discipline her.

Olivia: I have been raising kids since I was twenty three and I always made sure to discipline them. Now that I’m a grandma, I can let it slide for a few times.

Charlotte (2)

Henry: And last but not least, little Charlotte. They fostered her since she was a year and officially adopted her six months ago. We don’t know exactly what happened to her, since she was abandoned at around nine months. No one actually knows what her exact age is, let alone her birthday.

Olivia: It’s such a shame that something this horrendous could happen to such a precious little bean. She is, despite the things that happened to her, a lovely young girl, who kind of reminds me a lot of Elodie. A bit shy, a bit quiet and not a smiler.

Henry: Definitely not a smiler to strangers at all, but when she does… She’s so precious. Lewis and Stella are really good with her as well. These two were made to be older siblings. I can’t wait to see what kind of girl Charlotte becomes!

◎◎◎

Olivia: We are so blessed with our beautiful grandchildren and it’s my goal to become at least a hundred years old, so I can see every single one of them at least graduate!

Henry: And I want to hold my great-grandchild, so yeah, I agree, my love. We should become at least a hundred years old.

Taglist: @thelastsock // @flhorah // @sausagefest1996 // @laufeysodinson // @xxxkatxo // @memoriesat30 // @henrythickcavill // @crimsonrae // @henryobsessed // @madbaddic7ed // @summersong69 // @lyrafraiser // @peakygroupie // @coldmuffinbanditshoe // @mary-ann84 // @thereisa8ella //@crazyandanonymous4u // @xuxszx // @emmaofgreengabbles // @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair // @onlyhenrys // @omgkatinka // @oddsnendsfanfics // @speakerforthedead0 // @agniavateira // @gearhead66 // @chamomilebottom // @diegos-butt // @yoyoanaria //

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #Olivia Tran-Cavill #henry cavill x Olivia Tran #mister cavill your dog is kinda fat

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

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Title: walk the golden skies, rise above- Summary: In a world where Force-sensitive people have wings, Anakin Skywalker still burns. (But before that, he rises above them all.) AN: I finished my wingfic! Shout out to @shatouto, @khapikat22 and @kyber-erso for motivating me to finish this in a day instead of procrastinating :D I hope you like his! Also on AO3 for those who prefer to read there!

The first thing Qui-Gon Jinn noticed about the boy were his massive wings. He was young still, probably couldn’t even fly yet, but despite the complicated leather restraints on his back, there was no hiding the size of the black wings. Qui-Gon’s wings were on the larger side, as were those of his Padawan, but he was fairly sure that if the boy reached maturity, he’d surpass them both without trying.

Qui-Gon furthermore doubted that would be the case if the boy were to remain on Tatooine as a slave. He was small and underweight, his wings dragged through the ground behind him when he walked and many feathers were broken or missing. Regardless, Qui-Gon knew that Anakin Skywalker was meant to be a Jedi, the same way his mother should have been going by her wingspan. Her light brown feathers had been clipped, she likely wouldn’t ever be able to fly again. Those without the Force, whose wings were so small they could only ever dream of flying, could never understand what precious thing was stolen from those who could.

“You should be very proud of your son,” he told Shmi Skywalker. “He gives without any thought of reward.”

“Well, he knows nothing of greed,” Shmi replied. Her voice had a sharp edge, almost bitter.

Anakin had been born and raised a slave, he didn’t know anything about freedom or being greedy when he’d never been allowed to act on such thoughts. It was sad that such gentle behavior hadn’t been taught but forced upon him by circumstances.

“He has a good heart,” she continued, fiddling with the small white feather hanging from her necklace. In the sunlight, it almost flickered gold.

“He is strong in the Force.”

It was a miracle Anakin was still with his mother. While Jedi used wingspan as a rough determiner of Force-strengths, other cultures had different opinions on why every intelligent species grew wings. Everybody agreed though that those who stuck out of the masses were special.

“I’ve noticed, his wings are much darker than yours. Who was his father?”

Force strength was an inheritable trait. Certainly, if Shmi and his other parent were so strong, maybe that would explain Anakin’s exceptionality.

“There was no father,” Shmi said. “I carried him, I gave birth, I raised him, but I can’t explain what happened.”

The midichlorian count the test provided after only confirmed what Qui-Gon already knew. Anakin wasn’t just strong of the Force, he existed because of it. He was the Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the Force. That night, while he was sleeping in the Skywalker’s house, he dreamed of a man with black wings and woke up haunted by the feeling that a new era was upon them.

(Qui-Gon never lived long enough to know that Anakin’s wings were anything but black.)

Obi-Wan Kenobi was the one who cut through the leather cords restricting Anakin’s wings. He was also the first to see how truly massive the black feathers were. He was a little surprised to notice that in-between all the black another color, a lighter one, stood out when Qui-Gon had only described wings as dark as space. Trust his Master to make a mistake concerning precise details.

However, Obi-Wan was not the first to notice that Anakin Skywalker’s wings were not, in fact, even mainly black. He wasn’t even the second or third or fourth person. No, he was the tenth person to be informed of that and likely wouldn’t have even been number ten if his Padawan hadn’t had a panic attack in the Halls of Healing because too many Jedi were crowding around him. Another apprentice had come to pick Obi-Wan up, urging him to leave his final exam behind and come see to his Padawan immediately.

When Obi-Wan arrived in the Halls, he found Anakin sitting in the corner of a room, his wings curled around him so that you actually couldn’t see the little Padawan.

“What is going on here?” Obi-Wan asked and marched promptly through the Masters assembled in the room. Any other time he probably would have thrown a fuss at the utter disrespect he was showing Council members, but if Ki-Adi-Mundi decided that towering over his obviously overwhelmed Padawan, then Obi-Wan was going to tell him off.

He planted himself between Anakin and the other members, his arms crossed and his back turned to Anakin. Something touched his leg and he glanced down long enough to see black primary feathers brushing against him.

“Your Padawan was found ripping out his own feathers,” Vokara Che said seriously.

Obi-Wan slowly let out his breath and forced himself to not start cursing. He knew Anakin tended to do that. On Tatooine, it had been better to take out broken feathers than to attempt healing them and risk infection. He’d been shocked the first time he had caught Anakin doing it, but he thought Anakin had understood that it was unnecessary after their talk.

Obi-Wan decided to turn around to his Padawan and crouched down in front of him. He spread his own fiery red wings to give Anakin a sense of protection.

“Padawan,” he began to say. “Everything’s alright. You know you don’t have to take out your damaged feathers, we can heal them. And if we can’t, you certainly don’t have to deal with it on your own.”

“His feathers weren’t damaged,” Vokara said. “But their color-“

“Please don’t send me away!” Anakin suddenly blurted out. He opened up his wings, almost sending Obi-Wan toppling over, and threw himself at him. “Please, I promise I’ll behave. I just couldn’t get any japor oil and keep it hidden. I promise I’ll do better, please keep me-“

“Slow down Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “And you’re my Padawan. You’re not going anywhere without me. Everything is alright.”

He tried to blend out all the Masters in the room with them. He gathered the Force around himself, grounded the two of them and calmed. He had to keep a cool head for Anakin. Obi-Wan could have his own private freak out when he was back in his own room away from too many Jedi who thought he shouldn't be teaching Anakin.

“But- but I couldn’t keep it hidden!” Anakin stuttered.

“Keep what hidden?” Obi-Wan asked carefully.

Anakin bit his lip, then he pushed his hands, curled to fists, into Obi-Wan’s and opened them, revealing soft and small feathers that likely would have grown into covert feathers, had Anakin not ripped them out. What shocked Obi-Wan the most about them though was not the dried blood clinging to them, but the brilliant golden shine.

“Are those yours?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin nodded. “Mom always made me drink japor oil so they wouldn’t grow in that color. If Masters knew I had big wings and golden ones, they’d have taken me away.”

Obi-Wan could see it in startling clarity. A small boy, much younger than Anakin was now, being ripped out of his mother’s arms so they could take his wings.

He felt like throwing up.

“They’re beautiful,” Obi-Wan told his Padawan earnestly. “You don’t have to hide them here, I promise.”

“Really?” Anakin’s eyes darted to the Jedi standing behind them.

“Yes.”

Anakin looked down at his hands, before he lifted his head once more, hesitant determination taking over. “You can keep those. They were the first to grow back.”

(On Tatooine, the only people you gave your feathers to were family members. Obi-Wan wouldn’t know this until Beru stood on his doorstep, Luke sleeping soundly in her arms, and quietly asked him to accept the fledgling feathers she handed him and to give Luke one of his in turn.)

It took almost two years until even the last of the black feathers was gone. Likely, it would have taken even longer if Anakin didn’t have a knack for getting injured and breaking off feathers that just happened to be the black ones. Anakin’s wings at thirteen were certainly a sight to behold. They seemed to reflect the light, their gold shining almost white in the illuminated meditation halls while they took on a fiery red color when Anakin was sun basking in the highest towers, the evening light hitting him just right. Even though Anakin was already a Padawan and had been for years, he still couldn’t fly. He never seemed to have enough space to unfold his wings completely before he crashed to the ground again.

“This is a terrible idea,” Aayla muttered.

She liked Anakin, he was fun and not so much of a stuck up as other Padawans his age. Besides, their Masters were befriended, though Aayla wasn’t so sure if her Master hadn’t just dragged Obi-Wan into his life and declared them friends. It certainly sounded like something he would do.

“But you can catch me, can’t you?” Anakin asked as he peeked over the railing of the highest tower.

The thing was, Aayla got it. She couldn’t recall much from her time before she’d been taken in by the Jedi. She’d been four already, on the older side of the scale when it came to younglings, but those four years hadn’t been enough for Aayla to keep all her memories. Still, she remembered the fear and pain from all those whose wings had been big enough that they might be able to fly whose wings had as a consequence, been clipped, forever denying them flight. Amongst slaves, being able to fly was the greatest ability.

Of course the inability to do so hurt Anakin.

“I’m sure it’ll work,” Anakin said, took a running leap and jumped off the tower.

Aayla followed him quickly, her own light blue wings flattering steadily as she watched Anakin trying to catch himself in the wind. For one very terrifying moment Aayla thought he wouldn’t make it, and then Anakin began to rise. The strokes of his wings were immediately powerful and likely just as exhausting, but he was flying.

Watching him soar in the sky told Aayla all she needed to know. Anakin had been born for this. She loathed to imagine what would have become of his wings if he hadn’t been brought to the temple, even if she had to suffer through a stern talking to after Anakin's first flight for letting a junior Padawan attempt such recklessness.

(It wasn’t the reason Aayla kept quiet about the clones whose wings started to grow larger than those of their brothers, but it was one of them. She helped them hide, she let them use bacta to heal the cuts they had to make.)

Out of all of Padmé’s handmaidens, Eirtaé was the one with the largest wings. They weren’t tall next to those of the Jedi, but they were the biggest Padmé had ever seen. Her own were small by comparison, could fit easily beneath the tunics they wore to hide them away entirely. Sabé’s wings on the other hand were the most similar to Padmé’s. They were bright red as well, though a shade darker. It was the reason she was Padmé’s main decoy. If kidnappers thought to check beyond facial recognitions, they’d find what they expected.

It certainly helped them when the Trade Federation staged their assault.

Padmé still remembered how fascinated she had been by the Jedi. Even when she had been sick with worry for her family and her planet, she had been curious about the Jedi.

Everybody whose wings were large enough to fly could be a Jedi, or so they said, but that knowledge hadn’t truly settled in until she’d seen Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi for the first time.

Now, looking at Anakin, all grown up and somehow still the kind boy she recalled, Padmé wasn’t sure if she had truly understood it back then when people spoke of Jedi and their unnaturally large wings.

“Ani?” Padmé asked, unable to hide her astonishment. “My goodness, you’ve grown. And your wings!”

For all that Anakin was obviously trying not to take up too much space, his treasure golden wings were already blocking off the area they were standing in. She wanted to ask him about their color change, whether that was a part of being a Jedi or something special and inherently Anakin Skywalker. He blushed and smiled sheepishly.

“So have you... grown more beautiful, I mean! And, eh, much shorter... for a Senator, I mean.”

He was fumbling through his words, but it was endearing nevertheless. Padmé still resented the fuss they were throwing about the attacks on her. She was not a helpless little girl. She had never been allowed to be such with the weight of millions of lives on her shoulders. But perhaps she could stand being protected by two Jedi if it were those two.

(In the future every time she looked at Anakin’s prosthesis, she’d hate herself a little. She knew Anakin picked up on it, but didn’t know how to hide or communicate that it wasn’t him she was uncomfortable with. Padmé simply blamed herself for his pain.)

Anakin’s mother had been a slave with a considerably large wingspan. She had been stolen away from her family when she was six. She had been too young to fly then, but when she’d been eleven, she had dared to stand on the rooftop of her Master’s house and wonder whether she would be able to fly if she just jumped and spread her wings. When her Master had spotted her, he had screeched and pulled her away from the edge. He and another group of men had pushed her to the ground and tore at her wings until a loud crack had resonated through the air. Shmi had been screaming, begging and crying then. She wouldn’t have jumped. She hadn’t known the first thing about flying and there was still a detonator in her body that would blow her up as soon as she went too far away.

The men hadn’t cared of course. They had broken her wings and watched in satisfaction as they healed wrongly.

She’d never be able to fly again. They had clipped her wings. Perhaps in Republic space, they’d be able to save them, but nobody would waste such expenses on a slave.

Years later when the Tuskens took her, Shmi was unable to fight them off or reach the skies for freedom. It should have been obvious to them from the angle her wings rested against her back that she might be a Skywalker but she’d never be able to walk the skies, and yet they hadn’t cared and violated her so cruelly for the second time in her life.

Her only relief before her death was seeing the golden color she had last laid her eyes upon almost two decades ago. Her son was free, wasn’t forced to bind or dye his wings.

(Shmi Skywalker didn’t die peacefully. Her body gave up on her after enduring weeks of torture. Hatred lingered in her bones. It was forged into the marrow of every slave, it gave them endurance beyond their nature, but even hatred ran out. In the end, the only kind thing she could feel was the love for her son.)

The first time Anakin saw Padmé’s wings were in that horrible arena on Geonosis. His mind was still full of grief for his mother, the fear for his Master and the horrible guilt eating away at him.

Padmé’s shirt tore, revealing red wings. They reminded Anakin of the robes she’d worn a decade ago when they recaptured Theed first, then of Obi-Wan’s wings second. But where Obi-Wan’s wings were the red of sunset, sunrise, and fires, Padmé’s carried victory, passion and love in its most extreme forms.

They were not enough to carry her as she fell out of the ship and Anakin was once more forced to watch, his heart screaming.

(Anakin knew most people were fascinated by his wings. He had never met or seen another sentient with the same coloring, but he decided then and there, in the aftermath of the beginning of the end, that red was his favorite color. He wouldn’t mind seeing it for the rest of his life.)

CT-7567, Captain Rex, hadn’t known what to expect of the Jedi that would lead him and his brothers. He had certainly heard several things from the other troops so far. They spoke of reckless warriors, flying through blaster fire without any regard for their own health, as long as they could make sure that the war ended a little sooner, that more sentients were saved.

Rex’s wings fit neatly beneath his armor.

He knew it wasn’t always the case.

There were brothers the Kaminoans decommissioned early on because their wings developed too fast, too large. Rex’s were standard, the same brown and white mustering, hardly noticeable when he forced them beneath his undersuit. Rex had never wanted bigger wings unlike some of his batchmates who had quietly exchanged thoughts about how neat it would be to fly. The advantaged they’d have in battle would be much larger.

Rex hadn’t seen the point right up until Commander Skywalker and yelled “Down!” and a huge shadow had settles over their heads. Rex and his brothers were pushed down by the massive weight of Skywalker’s wings.

The dust, dirt, and blood clinging to them didn’t do anything to diminish their shine and Rex found himself caught off-guard.

(He’d freeze a second time like this when yet another Commander Skywalker would push them down to the ground to save them.)

The war carried on. It took its toll. Suffering became apparent in every corner of the galaxy. People were tortured, cried out in pain and slowly but steadily suffocated on their own hopelessness.

Sidious hummed in content.

The miasma in the air, the taint as the Jedi would call it, was the finest treat. The dark side was growing stronger every day and soon victory would be his.

“You wanted to see me, Chancellor?”

Sidious smiled friendly as he took in the sight of his young apprentice. Anakin Skywalker was truly a gift of the Force. He was incredibly strong and would be Sidious’s greatest tool in the creation of his Empire.

The boy’s wings were a hindrance of course, but not one that couldn’t be dealt with as soon as he fell. Sidious had cut off his wings himself. His Master had been impressed, falsely assuming that Sidious had done so to please him. He had let Plagueis believe whatever he wanted. Sidious had merely taken his fate in his own hands. He wasn’t going to rely on another to complete the ritual that would truly open his mind to the dark side of the Force.

“Anakin, my dear boy,” Sidious said. “I am so glad to see you.”

(And Sidious would be celebrating when he came to mold Vader into his weapon. Kenobi had truly given him a gift, ruining his Padawan’s wings himself.)

The thing Ahsoka hated the most about being stuck on the Resolute was the lack of space. She had large wings and could only practice flying in the hangers. While the clones laughed and whistled when she did her spins, she knew she was actually disturbing them and interrupting their work. The non-clone officials on board certainly thought so. Ahsoka thought that if it were just Jedi and clones together, they wouldn’t have any problems, but as soon as the rest of the military or politicians got involved, the fun was over.

Ahsoka stretched her wings and winced when she hit the side of a cabinet with them. There was simply no space anywhere!

“Master,” Ahsoka complained on the training mats. “How do you do it?”

Anakin stopped carefully treading his hands through her feathers. “Do what?”

“Stand the space! The Temple is so much wider. I can’t wait to be back home. Or planetside, whatever comes first, I guess.”

Ahsoka craned her neck so she’d be able to look at her Master’s face. He was smiling only slightly. Far more prominent was his frown and the way his mech-hand twitched. The first time she had seen her Master look like that, they’d been on Tatooine.

“It’s just a matter of getting used to,” Anakin finally answered. “And to your luck, we already have a new mission taking us to a planet that is covered by cliffs and canyons.”

Forgotten about her Master’s behavior, Ahsoka fist-pumped the air. “Yes!”

The last time they had had the chance, she had gone cliff diving with her Master. It had been awesome, just like jumping from the Temple towers. Ahsoka couldn’t wait to do it again.

Then, suddenly, Ahsoka winced as Anakin tugged at one of the feathers she’s injured in the last fight. “Skyguy! That hurt!”

“Sorry,” Anakin apologized, and soothingly ran his hand over her back. “I don’t think this feather is salvageable.”

Ahsoka sighed. She’d already asked Kix if he could help her, but he had given her the same reply. She had hoped Anakin would be able to heal it.

“Is it a pretty one?” Ahsoka asked.

“Yes.”

She looked up again at her Master and the three feathers he kept braided into his hair. One was Obi-Wan’s, the other belonged to Ahsoka and the third, a light brown one, she didn’t know. Anakin had never really told her why he did it, only muttered something about traditions from his homeworld. The precise reason didn't matter, Ahsoka decided, as long as she knew that it meant she was important to him.

“You can switch it out against my old one then,” she decided and watched happily as he did so.

(Later, she’d wish she had asked her Master what it really meant when your wings were restrained. Zygerria left its scars on them in more than one way. In the aftermath, Anakin ensured Ahsoka would have plenty of space to unfurl her wings, but she never forgot the feeling of the heavy leather cords covering her white wings. As Fulcrum, she didn't know whether that experience was a blessing or a curse.)

When Anakin killed Dooku, his wings felt like a dead weight right up until he was back in Padmé’s arms. He was exhausted and hurting, but with her as the center of his world, everything would be alright. With Dooku dead, it was only a question of time until the war was over. He’d resign from the Order and move to Naboo with Padmé where they’d raise their child together. Obi-Wan could visit them and maybe they could track down Ahsoka as well, wrangle her into the flying lessons their child would undoubtedly need.

“Oh?” Padmé asked playfully as they fell into their bed. “So sure our son is going to take after you?”

Anakin smiled and pulled the blanket over them both before covering them additionally with his feathers.

“Our daughter,” he said, his emphasis not going unnoticed, “will absolutely take after me.”

“Alright, alright.” Padmé laughed. “Let’s just hope they don’t decide to learn how to fly by jumping off a building.”

Anakin pulled a face. Retrospectively, perhaps Obi-Wan had been right to lecture him with an ashen face after Anakin’s brilliant – and successful! – attempt at learning how to fly by jumping off a tower. Imagining his own child pulling a stunt like that was terrifying. Ahsoka had already known how to fly when she’d been assigned to Anakin. He hadn’t had to worry about her.

“They won’t,” Anakin mumbled. “We’ll all be there.”

(Princess Leia of Alderaan had been ten when she decided she wanted to fly. She hadn’t cared about the fact that it was as good as a death sentence if an Imperial knew you had the ability. Dressed only in her nightgown, standing on the balcony of their vacation estate high up in the mountains, Leia took a leap of faith. Halfway across the galaxy, a boy threw himself off the cliffs in Beggar’s Canyon in the exact same moment and for the split of a second, they connected.)

It wasn’t an easy choice, it was no choice at all.

It was over a decade of careful grooming, a Sith Lord running his hands over golden feathers, pretending to help preen the spaces Anakin could never reach on his own. It were the lies, the distrust, the pain, all the mistakes, anger and frustration and a childhood bound in chains Anakin had never been able to break entirely.

He needed to save Padmé and his unborn child. He had to protect them from harm, his nightmares come alive, so he took his ‘saber and marched to the temple, his army at his back.

(Some of their shots hit his wings, but in the void darkness of the Force, Vader didn’t even register it. He didn’t think of the younglings that used to beg him for lessons or let out delighted shrieks when he submitted to their pleas and let them brush through his feathers and keep the ones that broke off or came loose. He didn’t think because he was drowning, choking on his own tears, hoping it would all be over soon.)

Vader could hardly fly on Mustafar. It gave Obi-Wan a considerable advantage, but he had trained Anakin to be able to handle any possible disadvantage. He tried not to linger on the thoughts of his former Padawan, the boy he had raised and adored, as he battled the Sith Lord in front of him. The ashes of the volcanic planet settled on their wings, dragging them down until Ana- not Anakin, his brother was dead, Sidious had ruined him, until Vader was lying on the ground, screaming. He was tearing at the remnants of their bond, sharp claws tried to cut into Obi-Wan’s mind.

He wanted to reach out. He wanted Anakin back.

“You were my brother Anakin! I loved you!”

And if he were a better Jedi, he wouldn’t have watched Vader’s torment but taken his blade and ended the Sith’s life.

(But he couldn’t. He had told Yoda that he wouldn’t be able to kill him and he couldn’t bear to linger as he watched the once so beautiful golden wings burn.)

In the aftermath, while Yoda told Bail what to expect when raising a Force-sensitive child and how to hide little Leia’s presence, Obi-Wan sat curled up in the corner of the space station, holding both children close his chest. It should be no surprise that they’d take after Anakin, and yet Obi-Wan had been shocked still when he’d seen the soft gold color of their wings. He knew they wouldn’t keep their color for long, likely never actually see it themselves.

Alderaan’s royalty ate white hibiscus flowers that dyed their wings the same color and Luke would be fed japor oil on Tatooine as Anakin had once been.

Nobody would ever know that these children had survived and lived. They would be safe.

(On his way to Tatooine, Obi-Wan took great care that nobody saw his own red feathers or Luke’s golden ones. It didn’t occur to him that he’d be better off tainting his wings as well until he actually arrived on the doorstep of the Lars homestead.)

When Vader woke up again for the first time, even Sidious was surprised at the level of pain, fury, rage and despair that was tearing at the Sith’s mind.

Traditionally, Vader’s wings would have to be cut down, but it would prove much more futile if that darkness engulfing Vader wasn’t allowed to lower.

“Put him under again,” Sidious ordered.

The Jedi were either already dead or dying. It was only a question of time and the dark side taught patience so very well. Sidious didn’t have to concern himself with his Empire for a moment, no, he could focus on his apprentice fully.

His wings weren’t entirely ruined. The bones still remained, as did some feathers.

“Keep the skeleton,” Sidious mused as he imagined what he wanted his Lord Vader to look like. “Encase them in metal. Give my apprentice wings befitting of his station.”

Skywalker was dead. There would be no more Jedi claiming the skies for themselves and putting their precious light above Sidious’s throne and Vader would spent his every second remembering it through pain.

Force-sensitive people didn’t just stop being born because the Empire willed it so, but more children died or lost their wings in infancy than ever before.

It would be a lie to say that the few Jedi that remained didn’t consider mutilating themselves for protection.

What use were wings if you could never fly again unless you wanted to risk your life?

And yet there were enough who treasured the gifts they had been given, always hoping and reaching for a future where the darkness would cease dragging them down.

When Obi-Wan decided to die for the galaxy’s future, his wings were as black as his Padawan’s once had been when he was young and Obi-Wan had hoped to never see the color again.

Luke and Leia looked like two halves of the same being, not just physically but also in the Force. Obi-Wan was relieved to see how strong they were, already connecting and reaching out despite being unaware of their relationship. Separating them when they were young had been the right decision. Vader would have found them too soon.

Now all Obi-Wan could do was focus on the opponent in front of him, let all hope escape.

He had been aware of Vader’s presence ever since he had stepped on this monstrosity of a weapon. It mirrored Vader’s appearance all too well. Obi-Wan had heard stories about Vader had made out of himself, but seeing it in person almost took him back to Mustafar and the smell of burning flesh.

Darth Vader’s wings were massive metallic blades, clicking eerily with his every move. It was impossible to ignore the whirling sound of the machinery that made them functional. Vader’s wings were terror, they looked like bones encased in durasteel coffins.

They were nothing like Anakin Skywalker’s.

The wingspan was the same, larger than anybody else’s, but that was where the similarities ended. These wings had never covered an entire squad of troopers to protect them from debris, they had never been touched by something that wasn’t blood and gore. They looked as unnatural as they felt.

They were what horrified Obi-Wan Kenobi the most about his former apprentice’s appearance. He used to be so proud of Anakin’s beautiful golden wings, had spent hours helping his young charge groom them until Anakin had fallen asleep, his much too large wings draped over Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

(This would haunt him past his own death until he could run his fingers through golden feathers again. He had stood aside as Anakin’s wings, his soul, had burned on the shores of Mustafar and he had turned away.)

Luke Skywalker stood out in every room he was in. It wasn’t just his ridiculously large wing size, he simply seemed to draw people in. Leia especially enjoyed being near him. He knew all about the rumors crawling around their bases about the two of them and had Leia not been raised a princess, she would have thrown at least one punch.

Spending time with Luke reminded Leia of all the times she had been able to spend lazy mornings with her family. It felt like coming home, a balm that calmed the phantom pains that had haunted her since her childhood.

She was the first to see that Luke’s black wings were as much of a lie as her white ones. Leia hadn’t had any of the white flower tea since her imprisonment on the Death Star and she wasn’t used to grooming her wings herself. She knew her wings looked terrible and she knew some of her original color, of which her parents had never informed her, was starting to come through in some cases. Leia kept her wings bound, protection against the Empire, so she hadn’t actually paid as much attention to it until she found Luke staring at a gold feather lying innocently on the floor.

“Is this your original color?” Leia asked him and picked the feather up.

Luke slowly nodded and opened up his wings. The newest feathers stood out against the dark black. They were the same gold as the one in Leia’s hands.

“Yes,” Luke answered. “But that feather isn’t mine.”

With gentle hands he helped her brush through her wings, get rid of all the old and broken feathers she had damaged and hadn’t thought to take care of because she was busy fighting a war.

(In the end, it was no surprise to learn they were siblings. The Alliance had been calling them their golden twins for years already by then as both had shed their old colors and stopped pretending they hadn’t been made for the skies.)

The memory of Bespin, of clinging to the pole while he was forced to listen to Vader’s wings clicking against the metal railings and horrible truth he revealed, would haunt Luke for years. He injured his left wing while escaping and lost his hand in a fight that never should have happened. Back on Tatooine, his family had always told him not to draw too much attention, that it was dangerous for him, but had gotten so used to flying while he was staying with the Alliance.

If he fell here, he wouldn’t be able to fly away.

He chose to do so anyway, all while begging Ben to tell him why had told him such cruel lies, wondering what kind of person could stand to watch another burn.

(He had hoped Leia would catch him, but he didn’t expect her to look like a vengeful goddess, the orange and red of the skies reflecting on her wings like blood.)

Darth Vader died the same way he was born, in agonizing pain. He broke out of the Emperor’s hold and Anakin Skywalker took the monster that had enslaved the whole galaxy and killed him with slow, aching breaths. Luke was grieving, trying to drag Anakin’s heavy body down to the ships.

“Luke, help me take this mask off,” Anakin rasped.

Luke’s wings flared up. He’d been informed of their golden color, the same as that of the princess. He hadn’t dared to entertain the thought that perhaps it was not just one child, too afraid of what that would mean for his actions.

“But you’ll die!”

Beneath his mask, Anakin smiled. He didn’t deserve his son who was so kind he could even cry for a broken man like him.

“Nothing can stop that now. Just for once… let me look on you with my own eyes.”

Luke hesitated for a moment, then he slowly pulled the mask of Anakin’s face. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but then he saw his son for the first time. He was beyond stunned how much he looked like Padmé. His wings behind him illuminated the darkness of the hall like the sun.

He was beautiful.

All Anakin had dreamed of and more. He was glad that this was the last thing Anakin got to see. Everything would be well, there would be peace.

(And when death came, Anakin didn’t resist and scream and beg. He smiled, threw himself into Obi-Wan’s arms, the wings on his back lifting him to the skies as he watched the light shine.)

The sun was high in the blue afternoon sky and the air was so thick with excitement, tension, cheer and joy that you could almost taste it on your tongue.

Excitedly, they were all standing at the platform on top of the temple. From up here, they could see the pilots getting their fighters, people going about their day and, most importantly, a rather large group of Knights and Padawans and family members standing below them, cheering.

“Alright, Initiates,” Jedi Master Ezra Bridger said. “Today’s the day. Are you ready?”

“Born ready!” A very bold Trandoshan youngling said while the Togruta boy next to her only eyes the edge of the platform with a vary look.

“This is an age-old tradition,” Ezra continues as he slowly walked backwards. “My Master taught me how to fly like this and the Masters Skywalker and Organa learned how to fly the exact same way.”

The younglings looked at the other two Masters that had accompanied them to the very top, seeking their agreement. Leia stepped away from the back and walked to the front to her brother, letting her wings brush over the heads of the assembled children, causing them to giggle.

“We did learn that way,” Leia said, smiling in amusement. “Only we didn’t have anyone to catch us at the bottom should it go wrong.”

The group looked at the Jedi Master with big eyes. They couldn’t imagine making this jump without anybody ensuring them they’d be saved and would be caught before they hit the ground.

“Don’t worry,” Luke said as he stepped off the platform. “We won’t let you fall.”

(And no child of this new age did.)

#star wars #Anakin Skywalker #obi wan kenobi #Luke Skywalker #leia organa #fanfic #hello yes i have many feels about wingfics

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deann1120 · 4 years

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Connections in PreCure Civilian Names (Updated)

If you don’t see a Cure, I found no relevant connection.

Sometimes I looked to Google Translate for help.

These are only connections I’ve noticed on my own. Please let me know which connections I’ve missed!

Honoka Yukishiro (Cure White) - “Yukishiro” means “snow white.”

Hikari Kujo (Shiny Luminous) - “Hikari” is just the literal word for “light,” alluding to her role in the series.

Saki Hyuuga (Cure Bloom/Bright) - “Saki” means “bloom” or “blooming.” “Hyuuga” can mean “facing the sun’s direction”; if you’re wondering what relevance that has, look what type of flower appears in Bloom’s transformation.

Mai Mishou (Cure Egret/Windy) - “shou” can mean “fly,” referring to the egret bird.

Nozomi Yumehara/Cure Dream - “Nozomi” can mean either “hope” or “wish,” as she introduces herself as the Cure of hope (I think). “Yume” means “dream.”

Rin Natsuki/Cure Rouge - “Natsu” means “summer,” referencing her fire powers.

Komachi Akimoto/Cure Mint - “Aki” means “fall,” which could refer to the leaves behind her transformation. But, like, that’s the best I can do with that.

Karen Minazuki/Cure Aqua - It’s not exact, but her last name contains “Mi__zu__” which means “water.”

Love Momozono/Cure Peach - “Momo” can mean either “peach,” or a word for “pink.” “Love” obviously refers to her heart theme.

Miki Aono/Cure Berry - “Aono” means “of blue.” “Miki” is used for a lot of blue magical girls (Sayaka, Mew Mint’s pet dog, the Amulet Spade Chara), though it means “beautiful tree.”

Inori Yamabuki/Cure Pine - “Inori” means “prayer,” referring to her transformation phrase and attacks, where you can hear her use the word.

Setsuna Higashi/Cure Passion - “Higashi” means “East,” referring to her previous role as Eas. “Setsuna” can mean “precious” or “beloved,” possibly referring to her newfound friendships.

Tsubomi Hanasaki/Cure Blossom - “Tsubomi” means “bud,” as in flower bud, and “Hanasaki” means “blooming flower or blossom.”

Yuri Tsukikage/Cure Moonlight - “Yuri” means “lily,” her personal flower, and “Tsukikage” literally translates to “moon shadow,” oddly enough.

Hibiki Hojo/Cure Melody - “Hibiki” means “resound” or “sound” (though “sound” is usually translated as “oto.”) This also goes for Hibiki Tachibana, of course.

Kanade Minamino/Cure Rhythm - “Kanade” means “beautiful sound” or “playing music.” This also goes for Kanade Amou.

Eren Kurokawa/Cure Beat - “Kuro” means “black,” possibly alluding to the fact that Eren used to be a black cat.

Ako Shirabe/Cure Muse - “Shirabe” means “note” or “tune.” This also goes for Shirabe Tsukuyomi.

Miyuki Hoshizora/Cure Happy - “Hoshizora” means “starry sky.” This isn’t a direct reference to her, but a starry sky can be considered a setting for fairy tale.

Akane Hino/Cure Sunny - “Aka” means “red,” which might be a reason why some people list her as a red cure when she is clearly orange. “Hino” means “of fire.” This also goes for Rei Hino.

Yayoi Kise/Cure Peace - “Ki” can mean “yellow,” though I know the translation better as “Kiiro.”

Nao Midorikawa/Cure March - “Midori” means “green.” This also goes for Izuku Midoriya (happy birthday to him, btw).

Reika Aoki/Cure Beauty - “Reika” means “below zero,” according to Google Translate, referring to her ice powers, though the name has multiple meanings; another is “beautiful.” “Ao” means “blue.”

Mana Aida/Cure Heart - “Ai” means “love.”

Rikka Hishikawa/Cure Diamond - “Rikka” also has several meanings, though one is “snow” or “snowflake,” referring to her ice powers.

Makoto Kenzaki/Cure Sword - “Ken” means either “blade” or “sword.”

Megumi Aino/Cure Lovely - “Megumi” can mean “love” or “affection.” “Aino” means “of love.” This also goes for Minako Aino.

Hime Shirayuki/Cure Princess - “Hime” means “princess.” “Shirayuki” means “white snow,” probably alluding to the famous princess.

Yuko Omori/Cure Honey - “mori” means “forest,” maybe referring to her clover theme.

Haruka Haruno/Cure Flora - “Haruno” means “of spring,” referring to the season her element is associated with. The same goes for her first name.

Minami Kaido/Cure Mermaid - “Kaido” doesn’t seem to mean anything relevant, but it’s similar to “Kaioh,” Sailor Neptune’s last name. “Minami” means “south,” though I don’t know if that’s supposed to mean something.

Kirara Amanogawa/Cure Twinkle - From first to last name, it translates literally as “twinkling Milky Way.”

Towa Akagi/Cure Scarlet - “Aka” means “red.”

Mirai Asahina/Cure Miracle - “Mirai” means “future.” I didn’t actually watch all of Mahoutsukai, so I don’t know if that’s relevant.

Kotoha Hanami/Ha/Cure Felice - “Ha” means “leaf,” which is in, like, all of her names. “Hanami” means “flower viewing,” an actual pastime in Japan where people picnic near the newly-bloomed sakura trees.

Ichika Usami/Cure Whip - It’s not exact, but “Usagi means “rabbit,” referring to her animal theme. Thus is where Sailor Moon’s first name comes from.

Himari Arisugawa/Cure Custard - “Hi” can mean “sun,” which is sometimes portrayed as yellow.

Aoi Tategami/Cure Gelato - From first to last name, it translates literally as “blue mane.”

Akira Kenjou/Cure Chocolat - “Akira” contains “ak__a,” which means “red.”

Ciel Kirahoshi/Cure Parfait - “Ciel” is French for “sky.” “Kirahoshi” means “twinkling stars,” which could refer to the ethereal nature of her animal theme, as does Ciel.

Hana Nono/Cure Yell - “Hana” means “flower,” referring to one of her attack themes and part of her outfit.

Saaya Yakushiji/Cure Ange - This one might be a stretch. Yakushi-ji is a Buddhist temple in Japan; its main attraction is “The Medicine Buddha,” which could reference her introducing herself as “Healing everyone!”

Homare Kagayaki/Cure Etoile - “Homare” means “honor,” which could refer to her character arc of self-acceptance. “Kagayaki” means “shining,” referring to her golden-like theme.

Ruru Amour/Cure Amour - “Ruru” is a reference to R.U.R., a 1920s play that brought the word “robot” into modern usage, referring to her true nature. So it’s not Lulu. “Amour” is French for “love,” referring to her and Macherie’s theme.

Emiru Aisaki/Cure Macherie - “Aisaki” means “blooming love.”

Hikaru Hoshina/Cure Star - “Hikaru” means “bright,” “shimmer” or “gleam.” “Hoshi” means “star.”

Lala Hagoromo/Cure Milky - “Hagoromo” refers to a few things, but the anime makes it clear what the fake name specifially refers to. I forget which one, but I think it’s either for a space orbiter or an old Japanese play about a swan maiden.

Elena Amamiya/Cure Soleil - “Elena” is a multilingual name that means “bright” or “shining light,” referring to her sun theme.

Madoka Kaguya/Cure Selene - “Kaguya” refers to a Japanese story involving a princess of the moon.

Yuni/Cure Cosmo - “Yuni” is supposed to refer to how Japan pronounces the word “universe,” in reference to the outer space themes.

Nodoka Hanadera/Cure Grace - “Hana” means “flower.”

Chiyu Sawaizumi/Cure Fontaine - “Chiyu” can mean “healing” or “cure,” though since she’s not the main cure I don’t know why she gets to be named after the season’s main theme. “Sawaizumi” can mean “marsh/stream fountain.”

Hinata Hiramitsu/Cure Sparkle - “Hi” means “sun,” which refers to her bright powers. “Hinata” means “sunny place.” Although not exact, “Hiromitsu” means “wide light.” Interestingly, “mitsu” is a word for “three,” which could reference her being the third Cure in her team.

Asumi Fuurin/Cure Earth - “Asu” is just how the Japanese pronounce the English word “earth.” So Cure Earth’s civilian name is literally the same. “Fuu” means “wind,” referring to her actual element. The same goes for Fuu Hououji.

8/3/20 EDIT: MY ASS COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT SPLASH STAR, IM SO SORRY.

#pretty cure #precure #names #magical girl anime #cures #precure names

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obiwanobi · 4 years

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Sure! There are a few scenes between them in the book, but it’s rarely truly about them, Anakin is always present in the conversation one way or another. Under the cut are my favourites:

The first interaction is right after the first battle of Geonosis, Obi-wan sends her home and then comes to see her because Yoda told him to go break up with her for Anakin. I’m not kidding. The scene is as dramatic as it can be, I honestly thought that Padmé was going to slap Obi-wan with a cliché line about eternal love:

As the door closed behind 3PO, she turned back to Obi-Wan. "Why are you here?" He hesitated, then sighed. Abandoned his nonsensical reserve. "Because we need to talk, Padmé." She felt her heart thud. "I see. Well, if we're going to talk, let's do so in comfort." She gestured to the sofa and chairs. "Please. Be seated." Another hesitation, then he nodded. "Thank you," he said, subdued, and folded himself onto a chair. She chose the sofa opposite and considered him over the rim of her teacup. His spine was straight, his shoulders braced as though he expected trouble. Some kind of attack. And surprisingly, he seemed at a sudden loss for words. All right, then. I'll make the first move. She put the cup down on the small table beside her. "Even though you're concerned for Anakin-and I know you are, so don't bother with the stoic-Jedi act-I imagine you're not very pleased with him right now. But you should know, Obi-Wan, he did not disobey his orders lightly." Startled, he stared at her. Then he pulled a wry face. "Which time do you mean? When he left Naboo for Tatooine, or Tatooine for Geonosis?" "Both times. Obi-Wan, no matter what you might think, he takes being a Jedi very seriously. It's all he talks about. Being a Jedi, and not disappointing you. He-" But Obi-Wan wasn't listening. He stared into the distance, his eyes shadowed, his expression grim. And then he looked at her. "What happened to Anakin's mother, Padmé?" he question jolted her, unpleasantly. She hadn't realized he knew anything was wrong. "What happened? She died." And that jolted him. Good.

Then they keep talking about Anakin and Padmé is all “feelings? for Anakin? I don’t know what you’re talking about” and Obi-wan is too tired for that:

"Don't take me for a fool, Padmé!" he snapped. "Of course you do. He has feelings for you. Strong feelings that cloud his judgment and make him disobedient to the Order. Are you going to pretend you don't have similar feelings for him?" "My feelings are my own affair!" "Not when they involve a Jedi!" Breathing harshly, they glared at each other. If she could see pain in him, surely he could see it in her, too. "This is why you came?" she whispered. "To tell me I must forget Anakin?" "I came because I was told to," Obi-Wan replied, after a moment. "And because I'm trying to protect him. And you, though I don't expect you to believe that. But Padmé..." He dropped to the edge of his seat again, touched his fingertips to her knee. "It's true. You must know that to pursue this any further will only lead to heartbreak for both of you. If you do love Anakin, you must let him go. He can't love you and be a Jedi. And he was born to be a Jedi. He has a destiny greater than you or I can imagine. If he is not free to pursue it, a great many people may pay a dreadful price. Is that what you want?" She blinked rapidly, banishing tears. "And do you love him so little you would have him condemned to a lifetime of loneliness, all in the name of some prophecy not a one of your precious Jedi Council can say for certain is true?" Again Obi-Wan stood, and this time he walked away. "If I did not...love...him," he said, his voice unsteady, his back turned, "I would not be here now." She leapt to her feet. "Then I think you and I define love very differently. I will never do anything to hurt Anakin. Can you say the same, Obi-Wan?" He swung around, his eyes blazing. "That's a stupid, childish thing to say!"

Love how Obi-wan has no control of his temper around her while talking about Anakin. The end of the scene is Padmé giving up and lying to him, saying she will break up with Anakin (right before marrying him) and Obi-wan is all sad because he just doesn't want to be there and make them both suffer, and Padmé is crying and... well, lot of emotions for a Jedi and a Senator.

Years later, Padmé calls the Jedi temple and asks for Obi-wan to come to her apartment without saying anything more and he’s just like ‘well Padmé asked so I guess I have to go right now’ and before talking about why she called him, they take the time to worry about Anakin together:

Faint color touched Obi-Wan's pale face. "Padmé, I can't-it's not appropriate that I-" He shook his head. "I can't." "Can't what?" she said softly, and withdrew her hand. "Admit you're worried? Of course you can. You can to me. I'm not Yoda. I'm not Mace Windu. I don't think caring for someone is a crime. Is Anakin in trouble?" She didn't think he'd answer. Thought instead he'd put her in her Senatorial place with a few chilly, well-chosen words. He was good at that. But he didn't. Instead she saw his Jedi mask slip again, just for a heartbeat. Saw that beneath his stoic exterior he was as conflicted as Anakin so often was. In his eyes, the need to talk. To share. To know he wasn't alone in being afraid. "He's...on a mission," he said at last. "I can't tell you where, or what it is. But it's not proving as straightforward as we'd hoped. We'd thought to have heard from him by this morning...but we haven't." She felt her heart thud. "Is he hurt?" "No," he said quickly, vehemently. "Just...challenged. This mission is important, a great deal depends on its success. I should be there with him, he shouldn't be facing it alone, but my injuries-I was prevented-" It was so unlike Obi-Wan to be incoherent. It was his articulate self-possession in the face of danger that so impressed her. Even though she hadn't entirely forgiven him for his interference in her life, she felt a surge of pity. For all our differences we have this one thing in common. We both love Anakin, and we always will.

God I love when Obi-wan lets his guard down yo talk to her! And after that my favourite dialogue between them:

There was the faintest derision in Obi-Wan's clear blue eyes. "He's a politician, Padmé." She raised an eyebrow. "So am I. Isn't that your biggest problem with me?" My biggest problem? No. The answer flashed across his face, as easy to read as any holobillboard, but he didn't say the words out loud. "You're a lot more than a mere politician," he said instead, and now his eyes warmed with a faint, reluctant smile. "As we both know." "A compliment?" she said, pretending shock. "You should warn me next time, Obi-Wan. Give me a chance to sit down first."

Then they have a conversation with Bail, and at one point he directly asks something to Obi-wan but Padmé answers with the biggest ‘do not blow this for me Obi-wan’ instead and Obi-wan is just like ‘don’t send me The Look I know what you’re doing’

"Of course he is, Bail," said Padmé, breaking her silence at last. Her pleasant tone was deceptive: beneath its sweetness a sharp blade lurked. "Obi-Wan knows the Jedi have no better friend than you. I'm sure he hasn't forgotten how you defended the Order in the Senate against the Quarren's unjust accusations of child-theft." No, he had not, but that incident had no bearing on the current situation. He shot her a quelling look. Do not push me, Padmé. Then he nodded at Organa.

The Obi-wan asks himself if he can trust Bail, and his conclusion is that Padmé trusts him and she’s never wrong so it’s enough for him:

Alderaan's Senator believed every word he said. But was that enough? Profoundly unsettled, Obi-Wan let his gaze shift from Organa to Padmé. She trusts him. Just as she trusted Qui-Gon and Boss Nass. As she trusted herself when she felt Dooku was behind the Separatists, even when Mace and Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke against her. She wasn't wrong then-I just have to trust she's not wrong now.

Later they go back to her balcony together to talk, and like every time when they’re alone everything is emotional and super tense:

"Most likely his information will prove to be a false alarm, but I am pleased you felt able to call on me," he said, letting the matter go, for now. "I know we haven't always...seen eye-to-eye...but I do hold you in the highest regard, Padmé. I hope you know that. I hope nothing happens to make you feel you can't call on me, if ever you find yourself in trouble." Instead of answering, she stared across the cityscape, letting her gaze rest upon the distant Temple, so beautiful in the sun. "Yes," she said at last. "I hope so, too." "By the way," he added, climbing into his airspeeder. "I never thanked you for your assistance in the recent Hutt kidnapping matter. Your intervention proved crucial." I didn't do it for you. I did it for Anakin. She didn't say the words aloud, but he heard them anyway. Saw the stark sentiment in her face. "It doesn't matter who you did it for, Padmé," he said softly. "You did it, and you made a difference. Every day, you make a difference. Anakin is the man he is now because he knew you. For that alone I shall always be grateful." She blinked, a little too rapidly. "Thank you."

And finally, right before he leaves, there are these final lines that I really like for some reasons, because it’s once again Obi-wan showing a different face to her:

"If the Sith think to destroy the Jedi, then I promise you, Padmé: they'll learn their mistake." She stared at him. "You sound so fierce. You hardly ever sound fierce, Obi-Wan. Confident. Determined. Cross, even, sometimes. But not fierce. Not...frightening." Firing up the speeder's engine, he shook his head. "You've nothing to fear, Padmé. You're not a Sith."

Later when Bail is alone with Obi-wan, he asks him:

“And to be perfectly frank, Master Kenobi, I'm getting pretty tired of your attitude. Would you be asking Padmé if she wanted to turn back?" No. But Padmé had long since proven herself. This man was an unknown quantity.

It’s like ‘excuse me Organa, but you’re not Padmé ok no one can be her anyway’. Also there is this one line from Obi-wan’s thoughts that I love:

First Padme, now Bail Organa. It appears I'm collecting politicians. Who would have thought it? Life is very strange.

It’s like ‘I HATE POLITICIANS except for these two brash supermodels, they’re reckless and too stubborn to know when to quit, I’m keeping them forever bye’

The last scene they have together in the book is also one with Bail, she’s come to their rescue and she’s in tears when she sees how weak Obi-wan look:

"Padmé," said Obi-Wan, his voice as changed as the rest of him. "Riding to the rescue again." He smiled, and her heart broke. "It's good to see you, Senator." She couldn't speak. Could hardly breathe. When she was sure of herself again. "You...you...reckless Jedi," she said, walking forward, and when she reached him she dropped into a crouch. "Anakin is going to be so cross with you!" Her head lowered then, and she fought a private, losing battle. "There, there," he said gently, and clumsily patted her arm. "No need to upset yourself. It's not that bad really." She stood and stepped back, one hand dashing across her face. "Not that bad?" She pointed. "Let's start with the most obvious, shall we? What happened to your leg?"

[...]

"I'll get us out of here," Padmé murmured as the captain returned to the passenger compartment and his men. She touched her hand lightly to Obi-Wan's cheek. "Don't worry. We'll be home soon."

And that’s basically my favourite interactions between them!

#padmé amidala #obi wan kenobi #padmé & obi wan #wild space #tumblr did a weird thing with the 'under the cut' so I couldn't answer directly to the ask #asks #anon

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