#anyway this fic title is just part of my grand plan to get everyone to listen to sea shanty adjacent music <3

[msmargaretmurry]

made up fic title meme “your cool new friend” + mcstrome and/or mattdrai

my last one!! i had such grand plans for responding to this one last night but then instead i had an unfortunate kitchen accident with a mandoline and was rendered one-handed for the rest of the evening. now i have mostly recovered and am simply temporarily nine-fingered instead. anyway, thanks to everyone who sent prompts in for this, i've had a lot of fun responding to them and making up some little stories! i've been struggling with writing this year and it was nice to just spin up some no-pressure concepts and scenarios.

but anyway: i don't know if "your cool new friend" is meant to be a reference to the niki song with that lyric but i'm going with those vibes anyway, which means this is obviously mcstrome. (i mean, "you were all i'd ever known / and now i'm supposed to love you from a distance / like it's nothing, like it's instant" ??? come ON.) unfortunately it IS a breakup song but i don't want this to be a breakup story sooooo….. breakup/makeup.

so they were together in junior, but, you know, in a puppy love kind of way. they thought it was real true forever love, but, you know, they were kids. connor went off to edmonton; dylan went back to erie and then to arizona, and it was okay at first but then it got too hard. neither of them were good at long distance, but they were bad at it in different ways, which just made it harder. they didn't end things mad at each other, but they were both too wounded to stay close. and then it only took connor like a month after they officially broke up to start dating someone new. connor, dylan thought, after pretending to be happy for him, is bad at being alone.

anyway, fastforward to summer of 2026. connor's a free agent and he wants a fresh start, so he's leaving edmonton. a tough decision, but the one he thinks is right for him, and besides, leon left last summer, and it felt too weird playing last season without him. it was weirdly easy breaking up with his longterm boyfriend (not the one he started dating after dylan, but the one after that one) when he decided not to re-sign. connor feels a little bad about how easy it was, but he had known for a while the relationship was more about comfort than love anyway, and leon told him specifically he needed to get out of his comfort zone. he strongly considers seeing if he can literally just follow leon to his new team, but the capitals* do not have the cap space, so he settles on just following leon east. he signs in carolina.**

[*look, if leon goes ufa in 2025 and nicky backstrom retires at the end of his current contract, also in 2025 (do NOT speak to me about this), the capitals will have the cap space for this. and they clearly need another german. they haven't been good since gru left.]

[**i'm not figuring out the salary cap implications of this part. i just happened to know the draisaitl/backstrom thing off the top of my head, for reasons. once again, do not speak to me.]

everyone expected connor to sign in toronto, and maybe that would have made more sense, but connor isn't really trying to make sense. he's kind of just looking for the opposite of edmonton, and toronto is too much like edmonton in a lot of ways. so, carolina. a good team, willing to make some big moves to get him. he doesn't have to be the captain there. he didn't mind being captain, he thinks he grew into a pretty good leader, but he just wants to play hockey without all the bullshit for a while. maybe he'll eat some barbecue and get really into ncaa basketball.

anyway, the thing about leon playing in washington is that leon is playing with dylan. leon doesn't know about connor and dylan's past, he just knows they used to be close friends and they're not anymore, but leon thinks dylan is a good guy, and so he winds up in leon's stories when connor and leon talk. and connor starts missing him. there's a lot more room in his head for non-hockey things, in carolina, and he keeps finding himself reminiscing. he runs into dylan, briefly, when the caps come to raleigh and connor wanders over to the visitors' side to see leon. it's fine — kind of awkward. dylan looks like he's doing well. connor starts asking leon about him specifically, until by like halfway through the season, leon's like, buddy. just talk to him yourself.

connor's been in raleigh for months now, and it's also the longest he's been single since he was a teenager. he's really starting to feel the alone-ness. so, yeah, he reaches out, and they start talking again. just a little, at first, and then more, until before long they're texting every day like they used to. it feels so easy and right. connor thinks it shows a lot of growth, how he's handling rebuilding this relationship even though it's technically still long-distance. all of the reasons he loved dylan still feel so fresh in his mind, like it was last week instead of a decade ago. they go out for dinner before the third caps/canes game of them season, and when connor tries to kiss him, dylan recoils like connor slapped him instead.

connor's confused! he thought they were on the same page, working towards the same thing! dylan could always read his mind when they were younger; how did they get their wires crossed this time? dylan tells him in a frankly not very nice tone that he's happy to be connor's friend now but he's not going through all this again just because connor's bad at being alone. it's not dylan's job to take care of him anymore.

connor, feeling deeply shitty, retreats to leon's. has a beer and lies on the floor for a while. asks if leon thinks he's bad at being alone.

"yeah, definitely," leon says.

connor squints at him. "do you think i use people to take care of me?"

leon squints, tilts his head in that way where he knows he's about to be too frank but is gonna do it anyway. "yeah, kind of."

connor sighs deeply. "so why do you even like me?"

"because you're my friend," leon says. "i wouldn't put up with it if you were my boyfriend. but friend level is fine."

connor sighs deeply again. leon gets him another beer.

so connor goes back to carolina and does some soul-searching and some finding himself and goes with his teammates to some unc games and does some surprisingly fun canes community events and just thinks. a lot. about what he wants, what he came here for. how to build a life that someone could share with him, but would feel full even without a partner. he's not sure if he can every get 100% of the way there — he likes companionship too much — but he thinks he can see himself a little more clearly now. he texts dylan a long apology, and dylan calls him almost immediately.

they stay on the phone for a long time, talking about — everything. about the lingering wounds from their first breakup, about why it even happened, in a way they never did when they were younger. about where they are now, mentally and emotionally. about what's been going on in both of their heads this year as they've been reconnecting. dylan cries, of course, which makes connor cry a little, too. connor says, "dyl, i swear, it's not because i'm just lonely. it's because i think we deserve another chance."

the sun was up when they started talking and it's pitch black by the time they hang up. connor feels like he's been wrung out like a wet washcloth. but dylan agreed to get dinner again next time they play each other, so they do, and it's not perfect, but it's good. dylan kisses him afterward; they make out against the car a little bit, but nothing more.

they spend the rest of the season in this kind of "are we gonna do this" limbo, but when they both lose in the second round, connor gets into his car the moment cleanout is done and drives the 4.5 hours (if he's lucky and doesn't hit traffic) up 95 to dylan's place. dylan is exhausted in that post-playoffs way, but he smiles when he sees connor, lets connor wrap him in a hug, and connor immediately feels better than he has in days. they're very tender with each other — both are nursing some minor injuries — but of course wind up in the bedroom, having sex that is so different than their teenage fumbling was but somehow so familiar at the same time. yes, they're gonna do this.

#and then leon gets mad at him for not annoucing that he was coming to town so they could grab dinner before leon left for germany #sorry leon he was busy #is this a universe than connor pinged into in the bogosort fic? maybe #anyway #ask #writing meme #mcstrome #hockey for ts

[july13th2004]

Getting Caught Up In The Moment

Characters/Relationships: Kratos Aurion, Anna Irving, Kratos/Anna, Kranna

Genre: Romance

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Smut

Word Count: 3844

Mirror Link: AO3 | Pixiv

Summary: Kratos and Anna attend a formal event at the Governor General’s mansion in Palmacosta, hoping to gather intel on the other Grand Cardinals’ whereabouts for the Desian Resistance group they’re involved with. When the event is interrupted by a small group of Desians disguised as nobles, the couple escapes to a room in a far off corner of the mansion until the chaos begins to settle. Some tension, followed by a couple heated, urgent rounds of copulation, ensues.

Author’s Note: So... I ended up changing my writing plans for Good Couple Day this year. My original idea (the prequel to my Kranna Day fic, ‘Forever Yours’) for today I plan on posting both parts of that fic in a couple more weeks, so please wait just a bit longer for that one if you were looking forward to it. Anyway, this year I decided to revisit a vague fic idea I came up with and wrote a couple sentences for about a year ago, and write a one-shot for it. The title of this fic is taken from a lyric in the song, ‘So It Goes...’ by Taylor Swift, and parts of this fic were also greatly inspired by the rest of the song. I had a lot of fun writing this one, and I hope all of you will enjoy reading it! My Yomiuri Land inspired fic that I said I was going to post last week needs a bit more time, and I’m hoping to finish and post that one by the end of the day on Friday, so please look forward to it (that one is also going to be more wholesome than this one, as it’s rated T, so if this fic isn’t your thing then maybe that one will be).

And lastly, as always with these kinds of fics, this one contains graphic smut, so please only read at your own discretion/risk!

           Kratos wasn’t the type for formal events.

           At least not since his days as a squire and knight in service of Princess Soleil, back in ancient times where he had to attend a royal ball every week or two. He glanced around the dim, candlelit ballroom, at all of the small groups of people as they discussed various topics with each other, and concluded that this event was different. And one that he should be wary of as well. Dignitaries and other political leaders from all across Sylvarant were in attendance, as well as a few shady looking figures that appeared to be Desians in disguise. He was especially worried that the gathering would quickly devolve into chaos should they try to start anything with one of the political leaders.

           Meanwhile, Anna was trying to mingle with a group of nobles and dignitaries situated towards the middle of the ballroom. Kratos kept a careful gaze on his wife as she used her cheerful demeanor to try and gather any relevant information regarding any of the Desian Grand Cardinals’ whereabouts, and what their plans were. The couple was trying to gather intel to send back to the resistance group they were loosely involved with. He had to admit, it made him quite nervous to not have her at his side at all times, especially knowing there were some shady looking people in this enormous room that were possibly looking to recapture her.

           So he was relieved when she returned to his side about ten minutes later, after getting acquainted with a few more groups of nobles and political leaders around the room.

           “Anything of importance, my dear?” Kratos asked, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

           Anna linked her right arm with his left arm, and whispered back at him in reply, “Nothing other than that most of the nobles know there are suspicious looking figures amongst them. They just hope they don’t try and start anything. Everyone has bodyguards, too, if anything were to happen.”

           “I see, so there are Desians in disguise in this room, then…”

           “That seems to be the case.”

           “Then we should be prepared to make a swift exit, should anything happen, my dear.”

           “I hope you know that I have both of my daggers strapped to my thighs underneath this dress. And you have your sword.” She glanced up at him, a look of determination gracing her features.

           “We’re not going to fight anyone in this room, my dear.” He let out a sigh, “And I’ve told you before to only use those daggers as a last resort to protect yourself.”

           “But what if I have to protect you?” Anna asked, now wearing a slightly worried look on her face.

           Her hand fell from where it gently grasped his bicep, and into his hand, where he took hold of it and gave it a light squeeze.

           “I won’t let it come to that, my dear.” Kratos replied, giving her a soft smile.

           The two fell into a comfortable silence as they watched the groups of nobles and prominent figures scattered around the room, some talking loudly, and others laughing rather boisterously. Kratos wished he had worn his crystal, mainly to enhance his hearing, since currently he could hardly make out what any of them were saying. A sharply dressed butler walked up to the couple holding a tray of drinks, and the couple gratefully took a glass each. Anna sipped on a glass of merlot, while Kratos sipped on a high ball glass of whiskey on the rocks as they continued to watch the groups of people surrounding them.

           Occasionally, some of the nobles and other political figures in the room would steal a few glances over at the couple as they casually drank their glasses of alcohol. Anna, becoming flustered at all of the people looking at them, would look up at her husband, and his presence next to her seemed to make everyone in the room disappear. She slowly eyed him up and down as his gaze was still focused on the other people in the room, now fully aware he was wearing that suit that she always loved. His jet black suit jacket was unbuttoned, and his crisp white dress shirt was tucked into a pair of tight fitting black dress pants. As her gaze on him traveled further down, she saw he was wearing a pair of shiny black leather oxford dress shoes, which was another detail she loved about this formal ensemble of his. Her eyes then drifted back up to the navy hued tie around his neck, and she had to fight off the urge not to take hold of it and crush his lips to hers.

           And when she began to feel a certain want, or perhaps a need, in her lower abdominal region, she had no choice but to look away and continue drinking her glass of wine. Kratos took a moment to look her over as she focused her eyes on the groups of people in the middle of the ballroom. He drank in the view of the bright, scarlet hued dress that closely hugged her figure, and accentuated all of her curves. The plunging neckline on the dress made him take another swig from his glass of whiskey, and he swallowed hard, not even entertaining a thought as the mild burn from the alcohol ran down his throat. When his eyes traveled down to the pair of patent leather flats in the same color as her dress, then slowly back up to gaze upon her perfectly kissable lips, which were coated in a matte light-blush colored lipstick, he could feel a coil of pressure begin to tighten at his core, coupled with that all too familiar feeling of tightness in his pants.

           Kratos downed the rest of his glass of whiskey as he tried to regain his composure, and he couldn’t tell if his face was heating up because of the alcohol, or from all the risqué thoughts now swirling in his head about his wife who was merely standing next to him. Anna quickly finished her glass of merlot as she also tried to regain her composure. Neither one was aware of the other’s inner turmoil regarding each other’s appearances. Another butler came around and graciously took the couple’s empty glasses, setting them on a tray where a few other empty glasses had already been placed. The couple stood there for what felt like and eternity trying to quell their thoughts as they continued to watch the nobles and dignitaries engage in deep conversation with one another.

           Then suddenly, one of the nobles starts shouting towards the far left side of the ballroom. He draws his thick, angle-edged sword, and removes all of his formal attire, revealing brown cloth and armor plating underneath the formalwear. It was just as the couple expected, there were undercover Desians that infiltrated this gathering. The scene was quickly beginning to devolve into chaos as a few more nobles began shouting and revealing themselves as Desians, while more began to panic and back away from the now undisguised figures. Groups of nobles ran out of the room and into the hallway when the Desian intruders started to charge at anyone close by, only to clash with armored knights that came to protect the dignitaries.

           “Let’s go, my dear…” Kratos spoke as calmly as he could given the current situation, scooping Anna up into his arms and carrying her bridal style out of the room.

           “But what about-” Anna began to protest.

           “They’ll be fine, Anna. The guards will take care of it.” He gave her a gentle, determined smile, before breaking into a run.

           Kratos ran out of the ballroom with Anna in his arms, and down an enormously wide hallway, passing tens, maybe hundreds of confused and panicked nobles and dignitaries along the way. Anna wrapped her arms loosely around her husband’s neck as her gaze fell upon his concerned face, her thoughts still conflicted about him deciding to flee the scene rather than stay and fight. At the end of the hallway, he entered what appeared to be a long unused room, where he quickly set her down and looked for a key to lock the room with. She shut the door while he found the key on a small table next to the door. After locking the door, Kratos placed the key back on the table, along with her sheathed daggers, and placed his sheathed sword next to the wall by the table. Then he made his way back over to the empty wall by the door, where Anna approached him.

           The room, while apparently long unused, appeared to have been thoroughly dusted and cleaned recently. Bookshelves and framed paintings lined three of the four walls, all except the ones by the door. A large, luxurious looking sofa upholstered with a bright crimson velvet fabric, sat at the center of the room. Across from the sofa sat a large dark brown hued coffee table with a couple stacks of neatly placed books on top of it, along with a candle lit lantern that cast a dim light throughout the mostly dark room.

           Anna looked up at her husband for a brief moment, his back against the wall, before her gaze fell to the space on the floor between them, letting out a frustrated sigh, and the look on her face holding a myriad of emotions.

           “What’s wrong, my dear?” He asked, giving her a slightly worried and somewhat puzzled expression.

           “I just don’t understand your decision to leave all those people in the ballroom in immediate danger when you, or even we, could’ve protected them instead.” She replied, folding her arms as she gave him an irritated look.

           Kratos let out an exasperated sigh, “I thought we went over this already, Anna. The knights are there specifically to protect those people. It isn’t our duty to protect them, my dear.”

           She stared him down for a moment, now wearing a look of sheer irritation on her face. He met her stare with his own, his face still holding that somewhat puzzled expression. This silent standoff between the couple went on for a few more moments before Anna broke eye contact with him as her gaze slowly drifted down his figure. It was difficult for her to be annoyed or angry with him for very long when he was wearing that damn suit, and looking so damn attractive in it.

           Anna let out a defeated sigh as she averted her eyes entirely from his figure, a light blush permeating her cheeks, “Fine, we’ll wait here, then. But promise me that we’ll check to make sure everyone exited the mansion safely after it’s safe to come out of this room.”

           “I promise, my dear…” He gave her a gentle smile as his face softened.

           She took a couple steps closer to him, until their bodies were nearly touching, “Good… Now, since we’re alone…”

           His wife gave him a teasing smirk before firmly grabbing his tie and gently pulling him down into a heated, passionate kiss. She reached up and carded her hands and fingers thorough his spiky, auburn locks as she deepened the kiss.

           “My dear… What about the people in the hallway-” Kratos murmured in slight protest against her lips.

           “They’ll be too busy trying to exit the mansion to notice what we’re doing in here.” Anna murmured back against his lips.

           He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him, placing one hand on the small of her back, and the other on the back of her neck. His tongue slipped into her mouth and pressed against hers as they continued their heated kiss. The couple quickly shifted positions as Anna now found herself with her back against the wall. His lips parted from hers and trailed across her cheek and jawline, then down the column of her neck. She let out a soft moan and ran her fingers through his hair a couple more times before placing her hands on along the collar of his dress shirt. Her fingers made quick work of loosening his tie and unbuttoning and untucking his shirt from his dress pants.

           Kratos let out a hiss against the nape of her neck as she deftly unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his dress pants before abruptly shoving one of her soft hands down the waistband of his boxer-briefs and taking hold of his partially hardened manhood. His lips continued to pepper soft kisses along the column and nape of her neck as she slowly stroked his length until he was fully aroused. He gave her hips and thighs a light squeeze before quickly freeing his fully hard manhood through the flap in his briefs. Her hands and fingertips trailed up and down his sculpted chest as their lips met in a passionate kiss again. When they parted, she caressed his neck and peppered his cheeks, forehead, and jawline with more than a few soft kisses as he lifted up the skirt of her dress.

           His hands ghosted along the soft skin of her thighs and found the waistband of her lacy underwear that was dyed the same color as her dress and flats. He gently, but quickly pulled them down her thighs, and she let the soaked article of clothing drop to the mahogany wood floor. The two ceased kissing each other for a brief moment as Anna kicked off her flats and stepped out of her underwear, kicking that article of clothing off to the side as well. She looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and a dark scarlet flush now permeating her cheeks. Both were already breathing heavily as they looked into each other’s half-lidded eyes for a few brief moments.

           Then he stepped toward her again and reached up to firmly cup her face in his hands. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck as he leaned down and crushed his lips against hers in a searing kiss. Their tongues pressed and danced against each other’s as his hands drifted down to hike up the skirt on her dress once again. He took hold of her thighs and lifted her off the floor, her legs quickly wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back and pulling him ever closer to her. His hands gripped her thighs tightly as she steadied herself by holding on his shoulders. Another soft, breathy moan escaped her lips when his pulsating length found her sopping wet entrance and roughly plunged into her inner depths.

           Kratos let out another hiss, followed by a pleasured groan as his manhood pushed further through her tight inner walls that clenched perfectly around him. She buried her face into the crook of his neck to stifle her loud, breathy moans as he began to gently thrust his length in and out of her depths in a steady, methodical rhythm. The couple could hear a few voices coming from outside the locked room, and they both knew without speaking to each other that they would have to keep quiet if they didn’t want to be found.

           “Faster, Kratos! Take me fast and hard…” Anna moaned lowly in his ear.

           Her husband silently complied with her wish, increasing the pace and intensity of his thrusts until his manhood was rapidly plunging in and out of her depths, and her back was pinned against the wall. She dug her fingers into the fabric of his suit jacket as his thrusts became rougher and more erratic, both now fervently chasing each other’s release, with the tip of his length repeatedly hitting the sweet spot at her core, and her pulsating inner walls fluttering and squeezing around his manhood. His hot, ragged breathing against the nape of her neck as he continued to plunge in and out of her depths at a breakneck pace, was all it took to send her over the edge as she came hard and nearly cried out his name. He could hear her muffled moans and whines of his name against the crook of his neck, pushing him ever closer to the edge of his own release.

           A few moments later, after a few more purposeful thrusts of his hips, he came hard, emptying a heavy load of his spent into her inner depths. He let out a muffled groan of her name against the nape of her neck, gently rocking his hips back and forth to make sure every last drop of his load entered her. When he brought his head up to look into her still half-lidded eyes with his own, she cupped his face with both of her hands and let out a satisfied sigh leaning in and giving him a chaste kiss.

           “You have my lipstick all over your face.” Anna remarked, giggling softly as her thumbs traced over the lipstick marks on his cheeks, “Sorry about that…”

           “It’s all right, my dear. And I-” Kratos began to say before Anna placed a finger on his lips.

           “I know, Kratos. Why don’t we move over to the couch for this next round?” She questioned, giving him a knowing smile.

           With that said, he hurriedly carried her over to the couch before his sweaty hands that were still tightly gripping her thighs caused him to accidently drop her. He sat down upon the middle cushion of the plush and comfortable couch, and gave her a moment to situate herself more comfortably on his lap. His still hardened length was fully seated inside her, and before she began to move she helped him remove his suit jacket and dress shirt. She briefly brushed her fingertips across every perfectly sculpted muscle of his now fully exposed chest, before giving him a kiss on his lips and his forehead. Her hips began to rock back and forth, and she heard him let out a blissful sigh as he loosely slinked his arms around the small of her back and pulled her closer.

           Anna placed her hands on his bare shoulders as she began to bounce up and down atop his manhood, nearly letting out a loud moan at the feel of his tip pressing against the sweet spot at her core again. Kratos’ lips found the nape of her neck while his hands and fingers slowly trailed up from the small of her back to card through her medium-brown colored, bob length locks. She briefly trailed her fingers through his hair as she gradually increased the pace and intensity of her up and downward thrusts. He pulled her flush against him as she began to gyrate her hips, stifling any and all of his potentially loud moans and groans of pleasure into the nape of her neck. Her fingernails lightly clawed down his back as she wrapped her arms around him, and her thrusts became more erratic and urgent.

           “I’m close again, Kratos…” Anna gasped as she continued to rapidly bounce atop his pulsating length.

           “Me too, my dear…” Kratos spoke breathlessly in between kisses along her shoulder.

           She slowed the pace of her thrusts ever so slightly, “Want to finish together?”

           When she felt him nod against her shoulder, along with a soft whimper that managed to escape his lips, she immediately quickened the pace of her thrusts again. He reached one hand under her dress, his thumb deftly finding her clit, and the digit began to roughly rub and swirl around the tiny bundle of highly sensitive nerves. She let out a loud gasp, suddenly not caring if anyone heard her in the hallway from outside the room. It wasn’t long before the combination of his expert fingers, and the rapid bounce of her thighs, sent them both tumbling off the edge as they came hard again, but this time, together.

           “Kratos…” Anna moaned loudly when she came, her release soaking the front of his dress pants.

           “Anna…” Kratos groaned deeply when he came, emptying another load of his spent into her inner depths.

           The two loosely embraced each other, taking a few moments to catch their breath. She pulled back a few moments later and looked down at him with now tired eyes, reaching a hand up to cup his face. He met her gaze and reached up and placed his hand on hers while letting out a satisfied and contented sigh. Their lips met in an all too brief and chaste kiss.

           “We should probably head back to the inn soon, my dear. You look tired…” He gave her a small smile, his hands coming up to gently rub her arms.

           She let out a soft yawn, “Yeah, I am. Let’s hurry up and get out of here.”

           While his wife went to grab and put on her underwear and flats, along with strapping her sheathed daggers back onto her thighs, Kratos tucked his now flaccid manhood back into his boxer-briefs and quickly zipped and buttoned up his pants. He also made quick work of buckling his belt before putting back on his dress shirt and suit jacket. Once those were on, he buttoned up his dress shirt and tucked it into his pants, then straightened his tie and tightened it around his collar. Anna handed him the key to unlock the door along with his sheathed sword when he made his way over to her, and the two exited the room within moments of him unlocking the door.

                                                        -----------

           The couple made it back to the inn about a half hour later, after making sure all of the nobles, dignitaries, and political leaders had made it out of the Governor General’s mansion safely. They quickly changed into some clean sleepwear and underwear, with Anna changing into a nightgown, and Kratos into a pair of sweatpants. Both were incredibly tired from the night’s events, so they quickly found themselves in bed and in each other’s arms under the covers. Kratos turned off the candle lit lanterns on the nightstands on either side of the bed before crawling back into bed and holding Anna closely in his arms.

           “We had quite an evening, didn’t we?” Anna questioned teasingly, nuzzling her cheek against his bare chest as the two laid atop the rather comfortable bed in the dark.

           Kratos’ arms hugged her closer, and he tilted his head down to plant a kiss on the crown of her head, “Indeed we did, my dear…”

           “I’m really glad everyone made it out safely.” She said sleepily, letting out a loud yawn.

           “Me too, my dear. Now, let’s go to sleep. We have a few errands to run tomorrow morning.” He kissed the top of her head again, letting his lips linger for a few moments.

           “Okay… Good night then, Kratos. I love you…” Anna said before closing her eyes and quickly drifting off to sleep.

           “I love you too, my dear. Good night…” Kratos said as he joined her in deep, peaceful slumber, still holding her close in his arms.

#tales of symphonia #Kratos Aurion #Anna Irving #Kranna #いい夫婦の日 #Good Couple Day #my fanfiction

[himbodiaz]

what do you say to someone (when they've heard you say it all)?

title from how did we get from saying i love you by great big sea.

It was the right decision. It was the right decision, to take a step back, a step away. Chris needs him. And yet here, standing just inside the door of an apartment he used to know almost as well as his own home, Eddie feels flayed open.

“You won’t talk to me,” Buck pleads, like Eddie hasn’t been trying but the words feel like a noose around his neck every time he tries to speak them. Like Eddie doesn’t want to tell him, my son is so scared of me dying that he was preparing for this Christmas to be our last together. Like he doesn’t want to claw out the devastation that’s been burning a hole in his chest since he first learned just how much his own son fears his mortality.

Instead, Eddie says, “We talk all that time.” It’s not exactly a lie, because he makes sure to have Buck over once a week to see Chris and calls him when their schedules don’t line up. But he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to talk to Buck anymore--at least, not the way he wants to. Not after the distance between them that’s only increased tenfold since Eddie left the 118, and not about this unspoken thing that’s been simmering between them since May.

“Yeah,” Buck laughs bitterly, “we talk. About your new job. Or what Chris is doing in school. Or your fucking laundry. But you never want to talk to me about you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Buck.” That is, in part, true. Eddie doesn’t know what Buck wants him to say. Does he want him to talk about why he left? Does he want him to talk about all the intricate details of why Chris clings to him so much more than he used to? Does he want him to talk about what happened to them? There are so many—too many—things for them to talk about, Eddie couldn’t even guess where to start.

Buck leans against his dining table, the few feet between them feeling like miles, the frown that was already on his face deepening. His eyebrows pinch together, eyes shut, and he lets out a sigh. Then, so quietly Eddie would have missed if he wasn’t paying attention to every movement and sound from him, Buck whispers, “you left.”

Eddie must make a sound, because Buck’s eyes open, and look directly at him. “You left, and you didn’t even talk to me about it. And you haven’t been talking about anything for months, practically since—”

“Buck.” Eddie has to interrupt him, because if he doesn’t the last scrap of who he was before is going to be torn away, and Eddie isn’t ready for that, doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready for that.

“We—we never talked about it, Eddie. Don’t you think it’s time we did?”

#drew speaks #buddie #buddie fic #my fic #i'm supposed to be working on my assignment but i just have so many thoughts and feelings so *gestures vaguely* here #i wrote this in like 15 minutes if it's bad look away #anyway this fic title is just part of my grand plan to get everyone to listen to sea shanty adjacent music <3

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Brilliant Plan [Anthony Bridgerton x Reader]

Title: Brilliant plan Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female!Reader Word count: 3.3k Published: 10 February, 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: My first ever Bridgerton fic, please don’t be too hard on me :) Summary: Even as a new debutante you have your eyes on the eldest Bridgerton, Anthony and it seems he is just as interested in you. That is until he halts your relationship in the courting period, leaving you confused.

Bridgerton Masterlist | Masterlists

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You stood in front of the enormous, wooden doors leading you to the unknown. As one of the new debutantes of the season, you felt slightly pressured and nervous. It’s been an endless waiting game, or so it felt like one, but now that you stood in front of the entrance of your future, every little problem you ever had felt mediocre.

Taking a couple of deep breaths seemed to calm your nerves, but as soon as your mother placed her hand on your shoulder, all your worries came back at once. The event has been one that you have been waiting for eagerly, you were happy to be a part of such an elite society, but no one prepared you for the mental battle you were going to be having deep inside you.

“Shall we wait and take a seat, dear?” your mother interrupted your chaotic thoughts, gesturing towards a golden bench outside of the ballroom. A voice within you screamed for those additional seconds away from your grand entrance, but instead you shook your head.

“No, mama, let’s head inside,” a small, phoney smile spread across your face. Your mother nodded in agreement and gently nudged your back as if wanting to help you to take the first step.

As the gigantic doors opened, your gaze fell on the sea of people dancing in the middle of the room, each wearing their finest attires of the most expensive materials with the shiniest jewelleries. You felt slightly out of place even though you were just as stunning as anyone in the room.

First step, second step, it took a couple of them to finally make yourself present and when you finally felt more comfortable walking into the room, you felt as if hundreds of eyes watched every step of yours, making you feel self-conscious once again. It was scary to feel all those eager eyes on you, but after an inner monologue, you finally lifted your head high, straightened your back and forced a small smile across your face.

As you looked around you recognised quite a few people, for instance the Bridgerton sisters, Daphne and Eloise who were although younger than you, had found a dear friend in you, someone they could turn to if needed. Gazing around the room you found the Featherington sisters who you only knew through the annual dinners your family organised.

You were older than the usual debutantes as your mother wanted you to be highly educated before marrying you off. Although you couldn’t wait to be a part of these high society gatherings, you understood that your mother didn’t want you to marry just anyone.

Finally, the curious gazes felt less intimidating and as Daphne walked up to you, you greeted each other with a smile. “I thought you’d never join us,” she joked with you, but you just shook your head with the least lady-like laughter.

“I couldn’t have deprived you from my company. I’m delightful,” you chuckled at your own joke. Your mother placed her hand on your shoulder excusing herself as she headed off to the opposite direction.

“Are you excited?” Daphne asked with an innocent, but enthusiastic smile painted across her face.

“I have been waiting for it for quite a while. Of course, I’m excited,” you replied giggling.

“Shall we find you a husband then?” she chuckled joyfully. You cleared your throat, feeling slightly awkward, but Daphne wasn’t silly nor was she naïve. She immediately understood that her question made you feel slightly uncomfortable. “Do you not want to?”

“Daph, I really wanted to be a part of these gorgeous balls and chatting away with people throughout the evening, however I can’t picture myself getting married just yet,” you offered her a pleading look, hoping she would understand you.

Of course, it was a dream of yours to finally start attending these balls, but there was a reason or two for your hesitancy. You didn’t feel ready to marry anyone, especially not if you didn’t love your significant other, on the other hand, you already had your eyes on someone. Someone who was closer to Daphne than she could ever imagine.

“Sister, I have been looking for you,” his voice made you shiver, tiny goosebumps revealing themselves on the surface of your skin. His slightly messy brown hair and curious brown eyes wandered up and down on you, studying every inch of your body shamelessly as he joined beside Daphne, making you feel flustered under his intense gaze. “I don’t think we have met before,” he spoke to you finally, for the first time ever, reaching for your hand to leave a soft kiss on your silky gloves as you formally introduce yourself. “What a beautiful name,” he smiled confidently, a trait that seemed to radiate through his whole presence, almost knocking you over.

“Interestingly we have met before,” you added, trying to avert the subject, before you felt overwhelmed by a simple compliment to your name, which your parents decided on and basically had nothing to do with you. “But then you always seem busy when I visit,” the confusion across his face was evident, trying to organise the little pieces of the puzzle he seemed to be missing.

“My apologise, I don’t seem to remember and I’m sure I would have remembered such a pretty sight” he shook his head with a smile that sent your heart into overdrive. His words made you feel 20 pounds lighter, but instead of letting the compliment get to you, offering him a small smile, you continued the conversation confidently.

“Don’t you worry about it.I usually only catch a glimpse of you as I pass through the hall,” you lied. In reality you caught yourself not once staring at the man as he worked in his office and your steps halted just in the right spot to take a moment to admire his handsome features.

“I’m certainly glad to have officially met you,” he replied with a proud smirk across his face, leaving you gazing at him for a moment longer than it was deemed appropriate. The moment was quickly interrupted by Daphne who seemed to feel slightly out of place, but before she could have said anything, Benedict joined your circle, quickly dragging Anthony away who endlessly apologised, before following his brother.

“Hmm,” you heard Daphne, slightly lost in her thoughts. “And so, she said no to marriage,” she stated with a wicked smile.

“Whatever do you mean?” you asked furrowing in confusion.

“I might be younger, but I’m not an idiot. I saw the way you looked at my dear brother,” she watched you eagerly with a sceptical gaze.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you replied casually, trying to disguise your embarrassment, which only confirmed Daphne’s suspicion.

“If that makes you feel better, I would gladly be your sister-in-law,” she chuckled loudly at the astonished expression on your face.

“Daphne!” you tried to scold her, but deep down you were imagining a future with the eldest Bridgerton, shamelessly planning each and every single detail of your shared life.

Throughout the evening you have caught Anthony’s eyes on you not once, shamelessly watching you as you danced with the most eligible men of the evening. You wished he was to ask you to dance with him, but he never attempted. He forgot his eyes on you at all times, making you feel as if you were a unique jewellery, one that everyone admired, but when it came to actions, he has taken none.

You walked out to the terrace with a glass of champagne in hand, watching the dark blue, night sky covered in a sea of stars. It was a beautiful evening, although slightly colder than you initially expected. Gently rubbing your skin, you tried to get rid of the small goosebumps that started spreading all over your body. You knew it would have been smarter to go back inside, but it was a slightly suffocating feeling, smiling at everyone, dancing with every other person. Whilst you enjoyed it, it was certainly exhausting.

Feeling two cold hands on each side of your arms, you jumped in the least lady-like manner, before they were replaced by a warm material. “You scared me,” you breathed, holding your hand in front of your chest, before you pulled the two sides of Anthony’s tuxedo coat together, enjoying the warmness engulfing you. “Thank you, you shouldn’t have-,” however before you could have finished your sentence, he interrupted you.

“I still don’t understand how I didn’t see you,” he spoke as he leaned against the terrace fence, gazing up at the sky. The confusion across his face earned a small smile from you as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Sometimes you don’t see what’s right in front of you,” you replied as he turned around, watching your hand rest on his shoulder, before you quickly removed it, hoping he didn’t think you meant to be disrespectful. However, the playful grin playing in the corner of his lips reassured you, making you smile just as well.

From that night there wasn’t a day you didn’t meet in his house or he didn’t come over to yours with an excuse, even though he needed none, your mother was delighted to see the Viscount in her house. Although he didn’t make it official that he was courting you, it was a known fact. He had his eyes on you and he made sure everyone knew of his unspoken intentions.

But Anthony was also a man of freedom. He had to take over the Bridgerton household, he had no place to object, but the freedom he practiced in his personal life was a necessity. You thought your relationship was going in the right direction as he courted you and you accepted his advances. However, after months he seemed as if he still had no intention of proposing to you, whilst he still kept other men as far away as he could from you.

You were tired of waiting. You didn’t want to marry just yet, but you have been waiting for his proposal for the longest of time and his indecisive manners made you doubt his intentions. Of course, you voiced your concerns to Daphne, who concocted a brilliant plan to make his brother jealous. Or so you thought it was brilliant.

As the next ball came and you walked inside the room with an innocent smile, dressed as beautifully as never before, many men gazed at your beauty, lips parting in astonishment. Surely, you enjoyed the attention, especially the one whose eyes seemed to burn holes into your body. But you didn’t look at him. You decided that if he couldn’t take your relationship a step further, then you would pay no attention to him.

“Miss, would you like to dance?” you heard from behind you as Benedict appeared in your vision with a mischievous smile. Although you were aware of Daphne’s plan, she was very secretive about the details.

“Daphne, isn’t it?” you asked, chuckling.

“Let’s just say I had no objection as soon as I heard that there was a way to irritate my brother,” he smirked proudly.

“Is this some twisted way to show your love towards your brother?” you asked, giggling as you felt Anthony’s eager eyes on you.

“I just enjoy seeing him sulking,” he shrugged carelessly.

“I take no responsibilities for any consequences,” you pointed your index finger at him with a mocking seriousness.

“Don’t you worry, miss,” he chuckled as he took your hand in his and led you to the dance floor. Eager eyes watched the pair of you, amazed by the bravery Benedict showed, even though everyone was aware of Anthony’s interest in you.

“If eyes could kill, I would drop dead at this moment,” he laughed, taking a peek at his brother as he led you around the circle, the quartet playing a rather slow song.

“I certainly feel daggers piercing through my back,” you snickered at the absurd situation.

“My brother means well, he is just an idiot,” he added.

“I wish I could object. I mean against the idiocy, of course,” you replied casually earning a heartfelt laughter from Benedict.

“Surely, he will open his eyes now,” he tried to reassure you which earned a sceptical look from you.

“I thought we had just established that he was an idiot,” you raised a questioning brow.

“I certainly think they are mutually inclusive,” he scoffed, earning an eye roll from you.

As the song stopped, Anthony walked up to you with a stern look and serious expression painted across his face, holding his hand out to you. You raised a questioning brow, before you placed your hand in his, letting him take you into the sea of people.

“What was that all about?” he asked as he pulled your body flash against him, his chest pressing against yours. Your breath hitched at the sudden closeness, his proximity clouding your mind. You could feel your body move to the rhythm of the music, but it didn’t register in your head.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you breathed, completely engulfed in his scent.

“Why were you dancing with my brother?” he asked in a stern voice, pulling you out of the mist covering your mind. You certainly didn’t like his tone, nor did you like the way he looked at you.

“Why wouldn’t I? You never ask me to dance with you nor am I engaged to you. I can dance whomever I would like to,” you replied with a straight face, hiding all your emotions.

“You know how important you are to me. Don’t play such games with my brother,” he hissed in frustration.

“Would you like me to play it with someone else?” you asked, feeling as if you were playing with fire, waiting for the moment he’d had enough.

“You very well know that’s not what I meant. You know of my feelings for you,” he groaned in anger, feeling useless, unable to find how to solve this problem.

“Do I? Have you ever expressed them clearly? As far as I know, we are just a man and woman in a close friendship,” you shrugged as the song finished and tried to pull away from him. However, he didn’t let you.

“There is no friendship between women and men,” he replied, clearly dissatisfied with your answer.

“We are acquaintances then,” you scoffed as you removed his hand from your waist and turned around, walking away from him. It felt as if your lungs were about to explode, as if you couldn’t breathe. The fact that he dared to say he had feelings for you when he clearly chose his freedom over you made you feel more upset than you wished to be.

“Where are you going?” you heard his voice as you headed towards the exit, trying to get some air into your lungs. “Where the hell are you going?” he tried again, his tone more frustrated this time.

“None of your business, Bridgerton,” you hissed in anger.

“B-Bridgerton?” he questioned, slightly stuttering, clearly astonished by your choice of name.

“That’s your name,” you replied with a groan as you headed down the stairs, grasping the side of your dress as the chilly weather hit your warm skin unexpectedly.

“Just stop for a second and let’s talk,” he attempted to catch your wrist, but you pulled it away just in time.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Bridgerton. You are the last person I want to see,” you scoffed.

“Surely, that’s not true,” he argued.

“You had months to talk to me, don’t come looking for me now,” you replied, but before you could have comprehended what was happening, Anthony got hold of your wrist and dragged you behind the building, away from the praying eyes, closing your escape route with his palms against the wall on each side of yours.

None of you spoke up, both of you studied one another as if waiting for what the other would say. You had the time to admire his handsome features, his messy hair that resembled more of a bird's nest as the wind blew it in all kinds of directions in his hurried steps.

“Why did you do this?” he asked, his tone finally calm and collected.

“I wanted to see your reaction,” you confessed, not even feeling guilty.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he frowned at your words.

“I thought there was something between you and me. I thought it was more than a friendship. I honestly believed you felt more. But you never attempted to talk about the future, you never wanted to discuss marriage, you never even mentioned wanting a family. I was certain that you would never look at me as a lady. I would always just be a friend,” you scoffed with a small, pained smile in the corner of your lips.

“What are you talking about?” his confusion sat clearly across his face. “I always tell you how madly I miss you when I can’t be around you. I keep saying how I wish to be near you more often. I couldn’t be clearer about my intentions,”

“You see, it’s still not clear to me. What are your intentions exactly?” you asked, cruelly ignoring his previous words.

“Surely, you understand,” he scoffed in disbelief.

“No, I don’t,” you replied, shaking your head.

“I- I just,” the stuttering mess he has become gave you the answer to your questions.

“You see, Bridgerton, you can’t even get yourself to say it,” you heaved a deep sigh and pushed his arm away from the brick wall, heading back towards the entrance. However, before you could have taken another step, he caught your wrist and pulled you back against the wall, his body pressing against you, the cold bricks making you shiver. You could feel his breath on your lips, one of his hands on your waist. You have heard so much about that first kiss and even though you knew it was wrong, that it shouldn’t happen, you waited in utter anticipation.

Anthony tried to control himself, knowing how important you were to him, but the proximity between you clouded his mind as he abruptly closed the gap between you, attaching his lips to yours, hungrily exploring the new territory.

It was wrong, so wrong, but the moment was bittersweet. The kiss was sweet and passionate, one you couldn’t even imagine in your wildest of dreams and you couldn’t even care about the consequences if anyone saw you.

The shock across his face as pulled away from you scared you for a mere second. “I sincerely apologise, I have no idea what came over me,” he tried to take a step back, but you got hold of his arm.

“Why did you kiss me?” you asked, still under the influence of his actions.

“Because I love you. Because I wish to marry you. I want you to be my wife,” he breathed in a sudden confidence. You gently slapped your hands against your lips, his words surprising you, making you feel as if it was a dream.

A small smile spread across your face. “You do?” you asked, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“I would like nothing more,” he rushed to add.

“Is that a proposal?” you asked, chuckling, but what came next was something you didn’t expect.

He dropped down on one knee, pulling a tiny, blue box out of his pocket, opening the lid as he looked up at you, admiring your astonished expression. “Would you do me the honour of marrying me?” he asked, his eyes full of hope.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you shouted excitedly, jumping in his neck, engulfing him in a hug, his broad shoulders barely fitting your embrace.

“Thank you,” he chuckled happily as he placed the ring on your finger, not expecting the quick peck you placed on his lips in the process. He stood up, wrapping his arms around your waist, before he lifted you up from the ground and spun you around with a happy laughter.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

If you enjoy my stories, please consider donating and supporting me on Ko-fi. Of course, it’s completely your choice, I will continue updating for free anyway :) Thank you <3

I’m tagging some people who showed interest. If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know :)

@pregnant-piggy​ @theravenclawgal​ @shelby-love​ 

#Anthony Bridgerton #Anthony Bridgerton x Reader #Anthony Bridgerton x reader fanfiction #Anthony Bridgerton x Reader oneshot #Anthony Bridgerton x reader imagine #Bridgerton x Reader #Bridgerton oneshot #Bridgerton imagine #Bridgerton fanfiction #Benedict Bridgerton #Eloise Bridgerton #Daphne Bridgerton #Bridgerton

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

What I Want - Part 2

AO3 Link

Chapter Title: What I Need

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: Following the awkwardness of the night before, you go to an old friend to try and process your feelings for Crosshair.

Click here for Part 1

Warnings: 18+, a bit more frisky business but not full on so rated 18 just to be safe. Swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Notes: You ask, you get!! Thanks so much for all the support and love for part 1 ❤️. As a thank you, I bring you part 2, I hope you enjoy! If this one takes off a bit as well, I do have an idea for a little bonus chapter around the Bad Batches' reaction. As always, feedback/comments are massively appreciated along with reblogs. Fic is below the cut off, thanks for reading!!

Taglist: @aerynwrites @shannon-lynn-21 @saltywintersoldat @tired-night-owl @wille-zarr

A comm alarm beeped softly, slowly pulling you out your slumber. Giving the device a sleepy glare, you shut it off and huffed back onto your bunk. Wrecker’s snores were echoing off the small ship barracks, you rolled your eyes at his sleeping form across the room as you swung your legs over the side of your top bunk. Below you, Tech slept soundly, he managed to fall asleep with his goggles on which were now sitting wonky on his relaxed face. He also had a datapad clutched to his chest, almost like a teddy bear, which made you chuckle to yourself.

You’d barely slept after getting back from the mission but being a General stopping over on Coruscant meant rest would be a pipe dream. Your alarm was set to get you out of bed and ready for the first of what you were sure would be a hundred and ten briefings today. You were always happy to shoulder the politics for the team, removing that burden from Hunter so they could keep to themselves. But today, you could really do without it.

You looked over at Hunter and Crosshair’s bunks, the former sleeping up top with an arm over his eyes. Probably to block out the few small coloured lights on the ship that shone from critical systems, preventing the room from being truly pitch black. You didn’t envy Hunter’s enhanced senses, they seemed to cause him quite a bit of discomfort when they weren’t on missions. You should probably pick him up an eye mask one of these days.

Below him, Crosshair slept with his back to the open room. One of the few times you ever saw his body relaxed was when he slept. You cringed as you remembered yesterday’s awkwardness with the sniper and mentally cursed at yourself for causing, what was, an easily avoidable situation.

Shaking your head you jumped silently off of your bunk, mindful to not wake any of the batch. You gently removed Tech’s goggles, placing them in their usual spot before moving over to grab some fresh robes and head for the fresher. Today was going to be a real drag.

—————————————————

“Hey! Look what the Lothcat dragged in” someone called after you as you trudged up the steps to the GAR Headquarters. You turned around to see none other than Anakin Skywalker jogging up behind you.

“Nice to see you too Skyguy” he chuckled at the nickname as he threw an arm around your shoulders.

You fell into companionable chatter as you made your way to your first meeting, the dark halls of the military headquarters looking indistinguishable as you attempted to find the correct room. Members of the Coruscant Guard patrolled the halls, nodding politely to you both as you strolled past.

Eventually you found the room where Mace, Plo and Luminara were waiting, along with some clone and human high command. You stood outside the door for a moment, readying yourself to seal your fate of being talked at for a solid eight standard hours.

Eventually you caved, mostly as you were on the verge of being late if you debated standing outside any longer. Begrudgingly, you sat through briefing after briefing. All the voices and different rooms blending into one grey blur as you tried to take in what information you could, but your tired and stressed mind was having none of it.

While it was nice to catch up with some of the other Jedi, you always felt a bit out of place among the perfect members of the council. More so now than ever.

You ended up wandering back to the temple with Anakin where you both retired to his room and you flopped down onto his simple bed with a whine.

“Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been off all day” Anakin was the closest thing you had to a brother, you trained as Padawans together and due to your similar age you became fast friends. You knew about his marriage to Padme and decided that if you could offload your dilemma on anyone, it’d be him.

“I fucked up” you groaned out from behind your hands.

“What’d you do?” Anakin replied in a playful tone.

“I might’ve got a bit hot and heavy with one of the clones in my squad, led him on and then cut it off” Anakin raised an eyebrow at your confession. “And now he’s pissed at me”

“Why?” You weren’t entirely sure which part of that entire thing he was questioning.

“Because I started the whole thing, I wanted it. Then all of a sudden I did that whole guilty Jedi, must follow every word of the order thing, gave him some pathetic look which said really sorry I can’t have attachments mate, hope you understand. He called me out on it before I could even utter the banthashit excuse and then he stomped off and hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“In his defence, seems like he was probably wound a little tight” Anakin replied with a chuckle which you just groaned at.

“He has every right to be pissed. Hells, I would be if the roles were reversed. Whats with this whole self-righteous act us Jedi have going on?”

“Look, it’s hard being a Jedi at the best of times. It takes an inhumane amount of self-control, which is why its not a path for the weak. But being a Jedi while at war… it’s a lot. You’re emotions are running high, you’re forming bonds with soldiers on the battlefield that you shouldn’t be, but none of us can help it because it’s uncharted territory. Maker knows I’d hunt down anyone who hurt Obi-Wan or my Captain. Yes, It’s not the Jedi way, but neither is fighting a grand-scale war.” Anakin’s eyes were alive with emotion as he spoke, be he quickly caught himself and then it was gone.

“My point is, don’t beat yourself up so much. No one is getting kicked out the order or in his case reconditioned if that’s what you’re worried about. Figure out what it is you want, and then just be discreet about it” you looked at Anakin like he’d grown two heads, he just winked at your confused stare.

“Okay let’s keep it simple. Are you attracted to him?” You thought back to the night before and firmly nodded in response.

“Do you like him as a person?” You pondered his question.

“Well, it’s Cross. I wasn’t sure if he even liked me for a long time. He’s closed off, anti-social, but he’s also a good guy, cares about his brothers, has saved my ass multiple times, and he is kinda funny in his own, snide way” you rattled off with fondness in your words.

“Well then I suggest you go and talk to him.” Anakin replied, giving you a knowing look when he spotted the small smile on your lips as you spoke about the sniper.

You took a deep breath, glad to have finally gotten that off your chest and feeling content that you now knew what to do next. “Thanks, Ani”

“Ugh please don’t call me that” he moaned back, apparently only Padme was allowed to get away with that one.

————————————————

Your walk back to the Marauder felt like it dragged on and on. Your brain ran over a thousand scenarios of what to say, how he’d react and you were about to short circuit. There was so much risk, so much possibility, that you did your best to shut your mind off and let yourself handle it in the moment. These things never went as planned anyway, it was best not to guess.

The large door to the ship hissed open, your boots clanking on the metal surface as you cautiously walked into your home. It didn’t take you long to find Crosshair, he was sat in the main hull methodically cleaning his hand blaster. Everyone else must’ve been asleep. He was just in his blacks, the material hugging him in the most wonderful way, it’s like whoever designed those things was trying to trip you up. The contours of his arm muscles flexing as he worked, his strong chest looked practically chiselled at the heart of his lean frame. You had to force yourself to calm down a little bit.

“Uh, hey” you greeted awkwardly. “Mind if I join you?”

You took his silence as a well he’s not saying no. He didn’t spare you a glance as you walked in and took a seat opposite him. As a General in the GAR, you rarely got nervous. War, as a concept, was simple. You knew your purpose, your objective, you had a job to get done and you’d do it. The risks never stopped you, rather they fuelled you. Probably why you’re such a good fit for the bad batch.

But this right now, personal feelings, not knowing where you stand with someone you care about. Because if you were honest, you really did care about Crosshair, the same as you did the rest of the team. You’d only been with the squad just under a year but you’d gladly lay down your life for any of them in a heartbeat. If you could at least get back to where you were before the other night, you’d be over the moon.

You weren’t used to being so nervous, you let your hands fiddle with you dark Jedi robes as you readied yourself to speak again.

“Look, I’m not here to throw some crap about being a Jedi at you, I promise. And I’m sorry for trying it before” he still didn’t look at you, finding his blaster much more interesting. But you could tell he was listening, you had his attention. Might as well keep babbling.

“In terms of an explanation for what happened yesterday, well I guess I panicked.” You sighed as you tried to find the next words “The way you made me feel that night, I… I’ve never felt like that before and everything i’d been taught over the years screamed at me that what I was doing was dangerous and wrong. I now realise that I’m just an idiot. I make my own decisions and I… uh -well, I stick by that one, starting something that is.” Still nothing.

“I know this is probably a long shot. But in the interest of being transparent” you rambled “uh… if you want to go down that road again, I’m up for seeing what happens, can be as casual as we like. I promise I won’t freak out on you again.” You chuckled and thought you almost spotted a slight pull in the corner of Crosshair’s lips “But if you want to go back to how we were before, I’d also really like that.” You watched him for a while as he gave no acknowledgement of your words, his cleaning finished as he now gave the weapon a once over in his hands. Having said everything you needed, you got up from your seat, looking away from him.

“Well, if I can do anything else, let me know” you turned on your heel to leave, feeling slightly defeated but glad you’d at least made the first step.

“I could think of a few things” he finally spoke as he leaned back into his seat and continued to stare at his blaster, still not meeting your gaze.

Well that caught your attention, you turned back around to face him as he carried on ignoring you. While his tone was unbothered as he spoke, you knew him just enough to know his words held a meaning. He was playing with you, back to his usual teasing and you could’ve laughed at the relief that washed over you. This you could work with. A cheeky idea popped into your head and you’d decided to run with it.

“Oh really?” Throwing caution to the wind, you strode over to the sniper slowly. His gaze finally meeting yours after all this time, watching you as you got closer and closer. Practically drawing you in with his amber eyes. You pushed him back by his chest, creating enough room so you could straddle his lap. “Care to elaborate?”

He huffed out a short laugh at your words, his face overall unbothered but his eyes, they were burning into you. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll figure it out”.

You hummed in response, deciding to kick things up a notch you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing your faces just breaths apart. “Something like this?” You asked, pausing for another second before bringing your lips to his in a surprisingly soft and gentle kiss. You felt his hands come up to rest on your back, pulling you closer as you continued your slow dance. This was so different from the other night, where before there was desperation and lust, now there was something more… tender, passionate. You were quite glad you weren’t standing as the way he moved against you would’ve definitely made your knees weak.

Dragging yourself away from his lips, you searched his face. His mouth pulled into a barely there smirk “That’s a start.”

“Who said I was finished?” And just like that, the last few strands of tension between you both snapped and you relaxed in his arms. You fisted your hands into the front of his blacks and pulled him back to you, his tongue slipped between your lips, curious and demanding. He was everywhere again, filling your nose with the scent of the standard cheap GAR soap but mixed with something earthy, something so distinctly Crosshair and you couldn’t get enough.

You could tell why the Jedi order frowned upon such activities, kissing Crosshair was intoxicating. You couldn’t think of anything else other than the handsome clone in front of you and just how much you wanted him in that moment.

His hands wandered lower and lower down you back until they rested comfortably on your backside, pulling you further up his lap. Feeling mischievous, you started trailing kisses along his jaw. Setting a teasing, languid pace as you mapped out the spots that made him squirm. Crosshair was never a man of many words, so you made it your mission to see just how vocal you could make him.

As your lips met his pulse point, he gave a loud exhale and you smirked in victory against his skin as you continued the onslaught on his senses. You definitely seemed to be doing something right as his hands found themselves in your hair, clutching slightly and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you. Even while trying to gain the upper hand in the situation, he always had some control over you. It was maddening in the best way, setting your veins alight with desire.

Determined to get another victory you traced your tongue against the base of the side of his neck and trailed it all the way up to the bottom of his ear, which you teasingly took into your mouth, teeth grazing the soft skin. A strangled moan escaped the clone and that was the moment where you knew you were hopelessly and utterly gone. Your mind filled with nothing other than wanting to be closer to Crosshair.

“Not very Jedi of you” he commented, slightly breathless when you finally stopped teasing him and came back up to meet his eyes. Looking down at where your bodies were pressed against one another, you chuckled.

“What exactly about this situation led you to believe I was ever a model Jedi?” You smirked, though it was only visible for a second before his mouth was back on yours, devouring you as his hands greedily roamed your body.

You continued making out like teenagers for most of the evening, taking the time to explore each other, enjoying the closeness. Contentment settled over your body, almost as if this was were you were meant to be. If Crosshair’s arms were where you belonged, well, you could think of worse places to be.

Back to Part 1

Back to Masterlist

#tj writes #star wars #clone wars #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #star wars fic #star wars fanfic #clone wars fic #clone wars fanfic #clone force 99 #jedi reader #tbb hunter #hunter #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb tech #tech #anakin skywalker

[iam93percentstardust]

A very happy birthday month to you! I’m a fan of your Stony fics. If you’re still taking prompts, could you do one with a Las Vegas backdrop? Maybe Steve’s first time there with Tony for some reason? I was supposed to have my first trip there ever but Covid cancelled it. Maybe at least they can have a happy ending there. 🙂

Thank you! I’m glad you’re enjoying the Stony fics!

So sorry your Las Vegas trip was cancelled, that’s really awful. I sort of went to Vegas once (it was a layover in the airport). The only thing I remember about the whole thing was the 5 bajillion slot machines in the airport terminals

Since I know so little about Vegas, I ended up going with the getting married in Vegas trope instead of something about the casinos. I also hope you don’t mind that I used this for my bingo square, but I saw the happy ending part in your ask and got inspired for my happily ever after square (details below the cut)

Here’s to Las Vegas

The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him.

Most days, Steve wakes up the second his alarm goes off, alert and ready for his run. This day, however, he drifts into wakefulness slowly, comfortably lying on his back. He’s warm and there’s a heavy weight on his stomach and chest, pressing him down into sheets that feel so much nicer on his bare skin than the ones he has at home. That’s the second thing he notices: he’s not wearing any clothes, not even the boxer-briefs he normally wears in lieu of pajamas. And the third thing he notices is that there’s something soft tickling his chin.

He slowly blinks his eyes open. He’s somewhere with high vaulted ceilings and an expensive-looking chandelier, which means it’s not Tony’s place (he thinks chandeliers are tacky) and it’s definitely not Steve’s (he can’t afford a chandelier). Whatever it is on his chest shifts and Steve looks down. Tony is draped across him, the top of his head tucked under Steve’s chin, their arms and legs tangled together. He’s breathing deep and even, still asleep even though sunlight is pouring through the window.

Steve smiles at the sight and raises his head enough to kiss Tony’s curls. He doesn’t often get to wake up with Tony. Steve lives in Brooklyn and Tony lives in Manhattan and they’re both so busy—Tony with SI’s R&D and Steve with his teaching—that they decided early on in their relationship that spending every single night together was a bad idea because one of them would always end up late to work. So this makes for a nice change.

Tony stirs, inhaling deeply. Steve brings his hand up to stroke over Tony’s hair, the way he likes it when they both have a rare day when neither of them have to be anywhere so they can spend the night. That’s when he sees it.

The ring.

The one that’s sitting on the ring finger of his left hand, exactly where it should be—except he’s not supposed to be wearing it for another week.

In the sleepy haze of waking up, he’d forgotten what they’d done last night but the memories are filtering in. Flashes of Tony excitedly talking him into finding a chapel and wrangling a couple witnesses from off the street and filing the marriage license a whole week early because both of them were more than tired of the wedding planning, the swell of emotions he’d felt at hearing Tony declared his husband and sweeping Tony off his feet and back to their hotel, kissing the whole way and probably scandalizing their Uber driver.

He groans and tips his head back against the pillows. Tony makes a low sound and yawns widely before slowly opening his eyes. He looks a little like an adorable kitten and Steve can’t resist kissing the top of his head again.

“Wuzzgoinon?” Tony mumbles sleepily.

“What’s going on,” Steve says, “is that your mother is going to kill us. No, she’s going to kill me, because you’re her darling angel who can do no wrong and she’s never once thought I’m good enough for you.”

“No, you’re better,” Tony says around another yawn. “Why is my mama going to kill you?”

Steve picks up Tony’s left hand and waves it in front of his face. Tony goes cross-eyed trying to make out what’s different about his hand. “Oh,” he says eventually and lays his head back down on Steve’s chest.

“Oh?” Steve asks. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“If Mama didn’t want us to elope, she shouldn’t have sent us to Vegas by ourselves to pick up the rings,” Tony says, as though he’s pointing out something reasonable, even though this is the most absurd thing that’s ever happened in Steve’s entire life—and his best friends are Bucky and Sam. Those two are the very definition of absurd. “Everyone knows what happens in Vegas.”

“This is your fault,” Steve informs him. “If you hadn’t insisted on this particular jeweler—”

“Hmm maybe I was planning this,” Tony hums, closing his eyes again.

And that’s… that’s actually entirely possible. Ever since they got engaged, Tony has been complaining about the big white wedding Mrs. Stark wants them to have and threatening to steal Steve away to the courthouse to elope. Steve had thought he’d calmed down about the whole affair after Mrs. Stark’s tearful outburst about her just wanting her baby to have the perfect wedding (Tony is nothing if not his mama’s boy), but maybe he’d been planning on this instead. He had thought it odd when Tony had insisted on a small-name jeweler in Las Vegas who wouldn’t ship to New York, thereby forcing them to travel to pick up the rings, but if Tony had been planning this all along…

“Did you?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Tony stares up at him for a long moment, blinking. Then he dryly says, “Yes, Steve. I, who has never made a decision that wasn’t impulsive even once in my entire life, somehow managed to both plan out a trip to Vegas to get married and keep it a secret from the love of my life who knows everything I’m thinking before even I know it.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Steve says, grinning at him. What they’ve just done hits him and he laughs giddily. He sits up, pulling Tony up with him to give him a closed-mouthed good morning kiss. “We’re married.”

Tony smiles happily and kisses him again. “Yeah, we are. Good morning, Mr. Stark-Rogers.”

He likes the sound of that. He really likes the sound of that. Another kiss. “What are we going to tell everyone?” he asks.

“Hmm. How about we got so caught up in the thrill of picking up the rings that we abandoned all reason and got married here? It’s not like the big white wedding my mama wants even really matters in the grand scheme of things. It’s the marriage license that counts.”

“She’s still going to want it.”

“Undoubtedly. And we’ll give it to her. But this is nice, isn’t it?” Tony peers up at him anxiously. “No fuss, no caterers with ten different meal plans for all the restrictions, no Great-Auntie Mildred who shouts for the minister to speak louder. No stress at all.”

Steve leans back against the headboard, thinking about it. Tony’s right. They dealt with a lot less stress by getting married this way. But it isn’t just Great-Auntie Mildred that they left behind, it’s their friends too. It’s hard to know how he feels about that.

But then he starts thinking about the wedding picture the photographer had handed them before they left the chapel last night. Steve had tucked it into his wallet for safekeeping, and he reaches over to the bedside table to grab it, pulling the photo out so he can look at it. It’s a picture of their kiss. They’re holding onto each other so tight he’s not sure a piece of paper would fit between them, smiling so broadly that it’s barely a kiss at all. And he thinks about the engagement pictures Mrs. Stark had sent out in the announcement and wedding invitations: poised and perfect and not a smile to be seen anywhere.

“Yeah,” he says eventually, pulling Tony against his chest. Tony snuggles in, warm and beautiful and all Steve’s. “This was pretty damn perfect.”

Tony sighs contentedly and presses a kiss right over Steve’s heart. “Good.”

“But your mother’s still going to kill me.”

“We just won’t tell her,” Tony replies dismissively. “We’ll get married again and we won’t have to worry about the wedding because we’ll know we’re already married.”

“She’s going to notice the rings.”

“Not if we spend the whole week here.”

Steve stills. He hadn’t thought of that. It would solve a lot of problems, not least that Mrs. Stark would finally have free reign to do whatever she wanted with the wedding without any input from either of them. She was doing anyway, but at least now, they don’t have to hear about how their small family affair has turned into the society event of the year.

Tony continues in a wheedling voice, “Call out all our friends, treat it like an extended bachelor party—or our first honeymoon, take your pick.”

Steve stops him right there with another kiss, lingering this time. “And what are we going to do on our first honeymoon?”

“Blow all our money on slot machines. Count cards at the poker table. Go see some really truly ridiculous shows,” Tony says with a shrug. “What everyone does when they’re in Vegas.”

“Hmm somehow I don’t think counting cards is what everyone does.”

“I suppose everyone didn’t grow up with Ana Jarvis,” Tony muses. Steve laughs because it’s true. Howard might think that Tony is a troublemaker all on his own, but everyone knows that Tony learned it from the best.

He’s distracted out of his thoughts by Tony picking up his hand and gently kissing his wedding ring. “It’s the first day of the rest of our lives, darling,” Tony murmurs. “We can do whatever we want.”

Details for @tonystarkbingo

Title of Fill: Here's to Las Vegas Collaborator: iam93percentstardust Card Number: 4012 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676711 Square Filled: A3 - Free Square Ship/Main Pairing: Stevetony Rating: T Major Tags/Warnings/Triggers: Established Relationship, Fluff, Marriage Summary: The day after Steve gets married, he wakes up in a Las Vegas hotel with a ring on his finger and Tony Stark snuggled up beside him. Word Count: 1558

#alle writes #alle answers #stevetony #if you like please consider reblogging #mistyendings #tsbmiv

[herstarburststories]

illicit love

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x reader

Summary: Jensen loves you, but sometimes love isn’t the right thing.

A/N: Hey, guys! All we needed was a newish fic to say that I was really back, here it is! This one goes for @negans-lucille-tblr 6k challenge. So glad you got to another millestone, honey. It's like I was posting my part for your 5k celebration just yesterday! xD Prompt in bold.

Warnings: age gap, cheating

Jensen Ackles kept squinting through the bricks of his memory in an attempt to recall where it all began. Maybe it was when he drove off the road he had known for years with the dumbfounded desire to take the trails yet traveled, threading his fingers through your hair on the night of September 7th. He could’ve chosen the easy out and say it all started to crumble with the first kiss, but no. The actor, father, and now horrible husband highly doubted that. No, as he unwound the convoluted wires in his mind, it wasn’t the first clandestine meeting that he saw as the beginning, not the first kiss or the primal stolen glances. It wasn’t even the lies or the way he pushed his body against yours in an act of illicit faith.

Like any grand mistake, it was way before that. Just like how the church not-so-gently advised, it all starts with craving something you never thought you would want.

It happened when he landed the job in a new series after leaving a fifteen-year-long rollercoaster, pushing away any real witness to the fact the old show that swallowed part of his soul was over. There was a certain shock of excitement misplaced by the fact he was going to be working with Eric again, and that the show was an abrupt change considering what he had been doing previously. Now, he believed it was his body’s particular way of telling him that — as the savage animals can sense rain or a calamity — this, baby, this is gonna change your life.

JENSEN ACKLES CAST AS SOLDIER BOY!

‘’Since when have you read comics?’’ Jensen arched his messy eyebrows at Dee’s curiosity about the Homelander and Soldier Boy panel making it to the screen. Shaking the comic book in his right hand slightly, he continued: ‘’Especially that kind.’’

‘’Never,’’ Danneel stated plainly, “but I have Google. It was pretty much the first thing that appeared.’’

‘’Well, Eric said that scene won't be on the screen. Besides, the portrayal won't be that Soldier Boy, but the original one who died in the war. ‘Course, he wouldn’t have died there in our show, but it ain’t the panel one.’’ He shrugged, bringing her closer to his side as she snuggled against him. ‘’There’ll be a bunch of Herogasm, which is basically drugs and sex. Just not with Homelander.’’

Danneel nodded at his explanation, humor clinging to her words as she added: ‘’Guess the only man I have to share you with is still Jared.’’

‘’Hey, you knew what you were getting yourself into.’’ Jensen scoffed playfully before kissing her cheek. ‘’Can't wait to start the show.’’

Jensen leaned forward to rest the comic that he had been religiously studying to form a psychological character profile on the dashboard of the Impala. The actor was spending plenty of hours inside his most palpable Supernatural souvenir -- Baby. His safe place. He sure as hell needed one of those, as molding a whole character that has a bunch of source material wasn’t as easy as he pictured. With Dean, he was putting himself and the script in one until it made his imaginary best friend. It was love at the first sight. Soldier Boy, however, was a long story short. Jensen figured he should do both, honor the character created and add his own special ingredients to it. It was a brand new kind of passion that he hadn’t done for a series in the longest time. Still, his glance trailed back to the woman by his side in the backseat.

‘’Let's hope it won't last another decade,” she mocked.

Jensen shook his head with a chuckle, relaxing against the leather seat. Even the mere smell of the Impala was enough to settle his nerves. ‘’Eric has plans for five seasons.’’

Danneel’s features contorted as if having war flashbacks. Sort of. She never imagined Supernatural would make it that far, and now with three kids, signing on for another excessively time-consuming idea for a new show didn’t seem too appealing either. Yet, she would support Jensen in any decision he’d take regarding his job. “Remind me the last time I heard that line before?” 

‘’Come on.’’ He let out a wry huff, poking her side in a playful manner. She couldn't help but laugh, returning the gesture with tickles to start a very light-hearted battle. He seemed happy with the new job, something Danneel truly thought he would have more difficulty with. She’d pushed her weathered worries away with his easy-going laughter for now.

SOLDIER BOY’S LOVE INTEREST?

Eric Kripke threw the gossip magazine on the table, his eyes not straying from his long-time friend’s. He could’ve simply added the digital article to an irate email and be done with it, but he was a simple man with extravagant taste. That had been usual through his whole career, especially regarding the Supernatural aesthetic. Yet, in those mundane situations, Jensen almost found it too much. That wasn’t the case, though. If anything, the plain, yet still overpowering words that his green eyes scanned made his body sweat. He could even hear his organs working from the absolute silence of the blame that covered the room. Kripke’s room had never seemed more like an interrogation chamber than now.

The magazine in question held Jensen and your picture on the cover, his arms wrapped around your torso as he pulled you close. The most sequin smile hung from your lips like happiness was something that could be touched on that sunny day in the private park near the studio. Giant and garish letters made the headline along with the subline: Jensen Ackles wearing his Soldier Boy costume caught sharing a passionate kiss with the new arrival of The Boy’s Team: Y/N Y/L/N, also known on-screen as Cangaceira!

His voice came out as an accusation: ‘’What’s this, Jensen?’’

‘’We were…’’ The director just waved his hand to interrupt.

‘’Don’t try saying you were practicing a scene because I wrote the Soldier Boy and Cangaceira kiss, and it wasn’t here.’’ Acid tainted his words with no space for fake niceties on his set. Jensen remained in the chair, not even daring to make the most subtle move. Eric knew where he was hitting, and Ackles deserved a punch in the jaw. “The sex scene wasn’t here either, but you two added a lot of erotic subtext. Trust me, I know.’’

His shoulders fell in exhaustion. ‘’Eric…’’

‘’You’re lucky we were going to make those two a couple anyway. I can just put the kiss here and save your ass. What if that wasn’t the case, huh?’’ the director continued, more interested in spilling out his anger than listening to dumb excuses. ‘’What about Danneel, Jensen? You have a wife and kids, for God’s sake!’’

The breaking point. Jensen rose to his feet with sudden frustration, a growl leaving his lips as he pushed the chair to the side with uncharacteristic brutality. How could Eric bring up his family like this? And how could Jensen’s heart not bring them up when he kissed you before?  It was all a fucking mess, and he had no choice but to choke down whatever came out of it, even if it was poison and spite.

‘’Fuck, Eric! Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think it doesn’t pull me apart every time I go home and know I’m lying to the people who love me?’’ The vein on his neck popped as he spoke, emotion gushing thicker through his arteries than blood. Woe remerged under his skin as he swallowed dryly, resting his hands on the table and looking down. That wasn’t him. He had done a lot of things that weren't him lately. ‘’I have enough guilt here, pal.’’

Eric just glared down at the man’s outburst, furrowing before asking, ‘’What’s going on, Jay? You don’t just get up and cheat on your wife. That ain’t you.’’

He shook his head. ‘’I don’t know. Y/N’s just…’’

‘’At least 20 years younger than you,” he stated. ‘’Just starting her career and might be getting the homewrecker title if someone finds out.’’

‘’I won’t let that happen.’’

‘’How? You are gonna be more careful or will you cut it out and go back to your wife and three kids?’’ When Ackles didn’t respond, Eric sighed. ‘’Just stop this, Jensen. Let her go.’’

Jensen scoffed humorlessly. ‘’I can’t.’’

Kripke felt like talking to a teenager. He shook his head as he got up. ‘’Do you have any idea what you’re doing here? This could destroy your family, destroy Y/N’s chance to make a name when you already have your own. That’s selfish in all proportions, Jensen!’’

‘’I know, I know.’’

‘’She deserves more than this and —’’

‘’I know.’’

‘’You are gonna mess up everyone’s lives —’’

‘’I know!’’ He slammed the table and winced, turning around with his hands on his head. If only he could stop his thoughts for a second and reorganize his feelings. ‘’Do you think it doesn’t rip my heart out that I can’t love her?’’

‘’Who?’’ The burning question was ready to set everything ablaze. ‘’You can’t love Y/N, or you can’t love your wife anymore, Jensen?’’

He couldn’t love you in public. He couldn’t love Danneel anywhere. Love just escaped through his reaches when you spoke his name like a prayer, and it was time to accept that.

‘’Both.’’

NO CHICK FLICK MOMENTS: SOLDIER BOY AND CANGACEIRA TALK ABOUT WHAT TO EXPECT FROM THEIR RELATIONSHIP

‘’It's amazing to portray with Jensen. I’ve watched Supernatural since I was like twelve, which probably isn't advisable.’’ You chortled, answering the reporter’s question. Your body could barely contain your excitement under your skin, although, why would you want that? You did it. You got the job you had dreamed and worked hard for. To a bonus, you were working with Jensen Ackles! If there was someone that had earned the right to scream to the sky until your face was the color of the red carpet your heels currently stood on, it was you. ‘‘I was even a Samgirl!’’

Jensen faked a gasp next to you, a light spectrum surrounding the interview. ‘’Really? Me too!’’

You pushed his shoulder playfully while he chuckled. ‘’Anyway, I'm very excited to be here and portray a strong latina superhero. The representation’s very important, and to be able not only to cherish it, but to be a part of it doing what I love and inspiring people like me is… mythical.’’

‘’Wow, woman!’’ Ackles pursed his lips, clapping a little before shifting his gaze from you to the reporter. ‘’She likes the big words. I swear, dude. She’ll just come and in like, a casual conversation, say something like gelid or whilst, and then she's gonna say dumbass. Both sound smart as heck.’’

You winked. ''It's the accent. Makes everything sound nice.”’

Jensen nodded but was quick to sprinkle in an incendiary remark to his compliments. ‘’Yeah, I have never seen someone confuse coach and couch before. Go sit on the coach got a lot of wrong ideas.’’

‘’Hey, you sat on the coach!’’

‘’Because I’m a good boy.’’

You rolled your eyes despite the grin on your lips. ‘’Sure, mister hours-to-get-ready.’’

‘’Hey, plenty of face masks are needed to keep this — ’’ He pointed at his face. ‘’at fourteen.’’

‘’All I hear is that you’re old.’’ Your eyebrows knitted together. Jensen licked his lips at the sight. On any other day, he’d pick you up, say I’m gonna show you who’s old, and enjoy where your teasing had gotten you two, but he couldn’t do it now. You’d get what was coming to you after the event, perhaps even under the table if your dress allowed it, or in the bathroom, if you kept going.

The mischievous smirk on your cherry-stained lips proved that you knew what was going through his mind. God, you were his sweet death. Nonetheless, Jensen sighed dramatically and looked at the camera. ‘’This is what I have to deal with every day.’’

The reporter went on, happily surprised about how comfortable you and Jensen seemed together. Usually, new coworkers were timider around each other during interviews, especially when they were a romantic pair. The journalist decided to try getting a little sneak peek of the couple aspects of Soldier Boy and Cangaceira.

‘’It's definitely interesting.’’

‘’But not in the best way.’’ The only thing more messed up than Jensen’s relationship with you was the correlation between your characters. At least you and he had the purity of love, even if it was twisted enough to turn heads and churn stomachs

‘’Certainly not in the best way.’’ You agreed, bringing him back into reality as always. ‘’It's really nice to explore a couple that doesn't consist of two white people getting to it like most main characters of the shows in our current climate. It’s not the kind of relationship you should be rooting for — not because it's interracial or anything, that's pretty much the biggest, if not only, positive aspect about those two — but because they aren’t healthy at all, just as all main relationships in our show. It's not a romance series, and we certainly don't treat our couples like it.’’

‘’Told you she is the beauty and the brains.’’ His cheeks dimpled with joy and pride as he looked at you. Jensen knew how excitedly nervous you were about that interview. He couldn’t wait to tell you how great you were like you were born to sell dreams and magazines. ‘’But yeah, it’s a messed up relationship like any other in The Boys. After all, it's not a respectful, wholesome show. It's about gritty superheroes that ain’t got heroism. Soldier Boy isn't a good guy, and it translates in his relationship too.’’

You nodded in agreement, brushing his arm to keep you sane. ‘’It’ll be an interesting dynamic to see on-screen to our show standards, but it's not an actual picture of how a relationship should be.’’

THE BOYS 100TH EPISODE PARTY!

The glimmer of his green comet eyes caught your undivided attention in the throngs of people. The crowd had gathered for his family, his arm around his wife's waist as you both shared a tender, stolen look. You savored her wine and yearned for the man in her arms.

It was just a small celebration due to COVID’s lasting effects on public events. People from the set and their significants together were in the Ackles house for a couple of drinks, small talk, and a cake with The Boy’s comics printed on it.

‘’Aunt Y/N!’’ JJ tugged your dress, her mix of Danneel and Jensen’s features almost haunting your soul. Almost. You would never despise a kid for that — you didn’t even have the right to. If anything, JJ was the one that would graduate to hating you someday. You didn't have enough youthful stupidity not to know the risks of being in love with a married man. ‘’Auntie!’’

You leaned in the most that you could with the red skirt, glancing at the child. ‘’Yes, honey?’’

‘’That’s my new Barbie! I bought a beach one! She looks like you!’’ the blonde kid said with a childish joy that ached in your heart. You could end up destroying her family’s stability if Jensen went any further, yet there she was; buying dolls that looked like you and so happily babbling about it.

You were a monster. Love opened you up and planted greedy seeds, and now you were a monster growing like a beautiful tree that could never be strong enough to hold a kid as they climbed up. The fact that you could sense Jensen’s eyes on your ass didn’t help one bit.

‘’She does! That’s so cute, JJ.’’

‘’You can be her. I have one who looks like mommy, I’ll be her, ‘kay?’’

Your nausea was replaced by a pageant smile and a nod, and so you spent the night sharing longing stares with the dad and playing dolls with the daughter. It was a role that was never yours.

ILLICIT AFFAIR? JENSEN ACKLES SEEN ON THE BEACH WITH Y/N Y/L/N

‘’I can’t believe you did this to me, to our family,‘’ Danneel screamed exasperatedly as she threw her clothes in a bag and heart on the wall. Jensen just stood there, accepting the deserved fury. ‘’Ten years of my life, Jensen, and you just threw it away for a mistress! I gave up on my job to be a stay at home mom because you didn’t want a babysitter. I supported you in every moment. I loved you!’’

‘’I’m sorry…’’

‘’You don’t get to be sorry,” she howled, glaring at him with the hatred of an overthrown nation. She felt like he got to the podium and forgot to say her name. ‘’You let that woman get in my house, drink my wine, talk to my children…’’

Reflexively, he said, ‘’Our.’’

‘’Shut the fuck up! There’s no ours anymore, no us!’’ Her words had garnered a learned violence, much louder than the sound of the zipper closing her duffel bag. She threw the CC exclusive on the floor, holding onto the handle for dear life. He didn’t deserve to see her breaking, only her anger. ‘’You destroyed our family, you destroyed me!’’

He pleaded, unable to discern if it was for her or the guilt: ‘’Dee.’’

‘’I hope you’re happy. I hope you go to her, get her to sleep on our bed, and be happy for a month.’’ She gulped, pursing her lips. Her glossy eyes coupled with the pink hue of her lipstick brought back a treacherous memory of their wedding day. ‘’And then, I hope she cheats, like you did to me.’’

The next headline didn’t call it love.

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[zoopzopp]

A post for some BAMF Izuku fics <3 (more of these will be added and the list will be updated as i read them)

Fics i've read:

The Secret Ingredient is Crime- Izuku only had a whole month to further prove himself worthy of Yuuei's golden acceptance, and he was going to do whatever it took to make it in. Yuuei would never truly know what hit them until it was too late. (The secret crime AU in it entirety is fucking amazing and what wouldn't i give to read more stuff with it)

Deku the Villain Hunter: Support Hero - We all know the story: After being told he couldn't be a Hero by All Might, Midoriya Izuku still wandered over to a supervillain attack where he could save Bakugou Katsuki. But what if he had made the other turn? The answer is a butterfly effect that would lead him on a path to paving his own future. A path of revenge, finding his own moral compass, and doing the impossible. (OKAY MANY THOUGHTS. Very cool story and aspects. I binged it overnight and lost a bit of sleep the next night as well.)

The Story of How Midoriya Izuku Asserted His Dominance (And Traumatized Japan) - The Sports Festival was supposed to be a break from stress. Shouta should have known there is no such thing as a break with his class.

making it right (for real this time) - - Izuku is a support course student at UA, and Katsuki's neighbor, best friend, and former bullying victim. After Izuku's performance at the sports festival, Katsuki realizes something. He has to make things right. -

Hero Fall (UA Civil War Exercise) - It's now the end of the first year of UA for our students. Nedzu had decided to bring back the annual Heroes vs Villain fight. The fight shall last 5 days and the villain leader is Izuku Midoriya, with the commanding officer of the hero team being Katsuki Bakugo. But, what happens when Izuku is left alone?

Hero Class Civil Warfare - Heroes lead by Bakugo. Villains lead by Midoriya. Seven days prep time. Three days for Izuku Midoriya to show why they should be glad he's not a real villain.

"I Didn't Know You Had It In You." - Midoriya goes feral rage mode in his fight against Overhaul. The beat down still happens, but with Eri no longer at his back, he gets more violent. One For All reacts in an interesting way and Midoriya commits a terrible and unheroic act - the cold blooded murder and maiming of Chisaki Kai. Shigaraki is there to watch it all unfold.

Plan C meets Plan A - Even if All Might is right and Izuku can't be a hero, Izuku refuses to be useless. So Izuku uses his analysis skills to develop Plan C: Consulting in order to help the heroes. Eraserhead is impressed by this mysterious new consultant but alarm bells in Deku's behaviour quickly have Aizawa recruiting help for Plan A: Adoption.

Q. A. B. - One month after @hawks_unofficial's initial viral post, the blog titled "Quirk Analysis Blog for the Future", otherwise known as "Q. A. B.", has gone from an average of 10 views per post to an average of 20,000 views per post. Midoriya Izuku does not know how to view the impressions analysis for his suddenly popular blog, and only notices that sometimes, people actually comment on his posts now. He does not google himself or his moniker and thus does not see the rise in online articles and speculation. He is unaware that the "kyuu-ei-bee" he begins to hear about in passing refers to his own blog. He does not have a Twitter account. At the time, Midoriya Izuku is 15 years old.

How to murder your father - It's dangerous to be a bad father when you have a life insurance. Just saying.

Negation - Passive Quirks are a bitch. Izuku is reasonably done with the situation.

Thanks For Your Support - Izuku has the talent and the intellect to be the first Quirkless pro hero, and everyone at UA knows it. Unfortunately, his desire to become a hero has long since been buried thanks to the words of his childhood friend and childhood hero.

Policed To Meet You - Izuku takes All Might's advice and becomes a cop.

Vigilante Work And Other After School Activities - Izuku is a vigilante, Aizawa likes cats and therefore kids who help cats, and sometimes breaks must be forced upon overachieving teenagers.

When the Commission Lost Total Control - The hero polls have a small part where one can suggest their own hero. This is done just because of the amount of heroes is to great to name them all. This creates a little problem for the commission because a vigilante is assumed to be a brand new hero by the public- and ranks pretty high. Because of that, this vigilante now is too popular to hide and they can't come out with their mistake either! Think of the chaos that would bring.

Izuku being Badass but like in not that grand of a way but still tearing-people-down-in-some-way kind of way

He Was Quirkless - Midoriya get's sick of discrimination against the quirkless and decides to do something about it. It leads to some interesting situations. A trilogy.

bloody, but unbowed- It's Advocacy Week for Yuuei's hero students and it gives Midoriya Izuku a lot to think about about what kind of hero he wants Deku to be.

Called Out - When Izuku is hit by a quirk that will cause him to call out the first person to be rude to him on the way to school with every mistake they've made in the affected persons presence or have otherwise effected said affected person, Aizawa is in for a rough ride. In other words, with some help from a quirk, Izuku rakes Aizawa over the hot coals until he gives out. (a great fic but i've got mixed feelings on this one because on one hand, izuku is badass but on the other its Aizawa bashing and really like him skhdskdb so yea! Read it as per your tastes!!)

The time when everyone learned that izuku respects Bakugo more than all might. - I didn't like how Bakugo was tied up during the sports festival and so izuku didn't. Badass izuku roasted all might and midnight.

Villainous Sunshine - After an innocent question, Class 1-A learns just how terrifying Izuku's analysis is. Nedzu's along for the ride.

Never understand ( and you can't ) - Midoriya is sick and tried of his classmates bias and prejudice against the quirkless community and finally breaks

Mastermind: Strategist For Hire - Izuku Midoriya never got the chance to save Bakugo from the sludge villain and impress All Might. With his dream crushed, Izuku becomes bitter and angry. It also doesn't help that he faces discrimination at every turn. All he ever wanted was to be appreciated, so when the villains are the ones to recognize his talents rather than the heroes, well, Izuku just can't resist. He might as well help those who actually want him around. Mistakes were made, and now society must face a villain of their own making: Mastermind.

Malignance - Deku is far scarier than anyone gives him credit for.

Fics in my to read list which has/probably has BAMF izuku

Young Midoriya - Izuku Midoriya couldn't help himself when he saw someone in trouble. Even at 12 years old, his instincts drive him to help those in need. So when he sees Kacchan and his goons about to ambush another student, he has to step in, right? It's not like this hasn't happened before. What is different this time though, is that he's never had an audience that consisted of the Number One Hero.

Heroics and Other Things That Don't Require Superpowers - Izuku doesn't have a quirk. That's the long and short of it. After being told his whole life he can't be a hero, General Education at UA is the best he can hope for, right? Wrong. Dead Wrong. So super wrong that his best friend from Gen Ed, all of Class 1A and a whole mess of Pro Heroes are going to prove to him how wrong he is. Izuku has the makings of a hero, and his lack of a quirk only throws those qualities into starker relief. After all, who wants to be as strong as All Might when you can be the cleverest hero in the business?

Cases of More Than - Izuku is known as Deku online. He's an analyst of quirks, sometimes even working with the local detective, Tsukauchi, on a case. He meets new friends, builds a few relationships, and slowly crushes on his best friend. But then he's thrown into the General Studies Course at U.A. It doesn't help that All for One is showing an interest in him at all.

No Regret - In this world there is no hard set villain or hero. No victim and aggressor. Everyone is at fault for something and Izuku, with his own villain group, will make everyone pay. Even the bystanders who did nothing. This is what society gets for abandoning it's people. Deku will manipulate everyone and be the greatest villain, all so the world can be a better a place. With the stakes so high there is no time for regret.

We Are a Different Kind - Mirio doesn’t think he can be a hero anymore now that he’s quirkless, Izuku calls bullshit.

Live a Hero - "You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain." Or, you're raised a villain, rebel when you're nine, and fight against the odds to become a hero anyway. That's how it is in Izuku's case.

Prodigal - After being convinced to give One for All to Mirio, Midoriya Izuku must rebuild his shattered dreams with bloody hands.

Two Sides of the Same Coin: Vigilante - Izuku is orphaned at the age of four and is sent into the Japanese Foster Care System. After multiple failed attempts at finding a forever home and some unfortunate circumstance, he ends up on the streets. Eventually, the vigilante, Deku appears. Eraserhead must gain his trust to bring Deku back to the right side of the law. If he he does, however, the untrustful but pure-hearted boy may just be a bit more than Aizawa Shota can handle.

From Muddy Waters - - but the sleeve of his tracksuit was bulging, tearing and ripping and a mass of twisted flesh, nearly as big as the boy himself and nauseatingly familiar (the arm of the man that had torn a hole in his side with a grin and left him a frail shadow of himself) swung forward and slammed into the flat face of the giant robot. Izuku wants to be a hero more than anything.

Pieces are easily sacrificed when they're nameless - Nobody ever thought quirkless, weak, weird Midoriya Izuku was dangerous. This perception carried over to his first year high school class, because really despite the super strength Midoriya didn't have it in him to be dangerous. That was their first mistake. And the one that would see them fall.

Not exactly BAMF izuku but i just wanted to rec these fics <3

In the shade of a sunflower - Being biologically quirkless came more with an extra pinkie joint in the toes and a stunning lack of vestiges mutations. It came with smaller things, like extra teeth that did virtually nothing, exploding organs, and weird exposed nerves that weren't designed to feel pain.

Throat Punch - In which Aizawa attempts to teach Izuku how to use various battle tactics and it goes just about as well as you'd expect. At least Shinsou is there with his fantastic commentary. (just a fun lil thing where izuku is really stronk and trains with shinsou and aizawa)

So Be It - He could still do good. Midoriya could show them all what a hero without powers looked like. If he had to break a few rules to do it, so be it. So be it… (as stated not exactly BAMF but its a vigilante izuku so ye-)

Never Enter a Drinking Game with Bakugo or Izuku - Izuku walks in on Kirishima and Kaminari having a drinking competition (no alcohol involved). And it reminds him of an old story.

5 Times Midoriya Taught Class 1A about Memes and 1 Time they Found a Villain that Understood Them - After being diagnosed as quirkless, Midoriya gets into pre-guirk media and finds memes. He shares them with Class 1A. Aizawa doesn't get paid enough for this. (THIS FIC???? FUCKING AWESOME. LITERALLY WHAT I WANTED TO SEE)

Midoriya: JD Version - Nedzu has decided that a play should be put on so that the students can learn how to "go undercover", an idea which Aizawa thinks is utter bullshit. They're putting on Heathers and when Nedzu chooses to cast Midoriya for JD, everyone objects. Midoriya is a much better actor than they thought.

that is a lot!! I hope you have fun reading it!!!

#fic recs #bnha #bamf izuku midoriya #izuku midoriya

[burninglilys]

if i stay here, i'll never leave

just a tiny canon-compliant pangwave fic of wave finding his way to pang. title is from the national’s ‘sea of love’. 

Pang sees himself as the hero, the protagonist, the saviour. He sees himself as the only victim suffering under the unfair system; the only one with enough courage to do something about it. 

Wave hates him. 

He hates the holier-than-thou attitude Pang carries himself with. He hates everything about him – the fact that Pang can control him, the fact that he can bend the world to his will, the fact that the world never needed any bending to mould in a way that fits Pang best. 

Wave had to fit in. He had to crawl into the space that was designed for him in the grand scheme of things, bend and break his bones to belong and bar entry to anyone who dares come near it just to preserve that suffocating space. 

Wave still has to. That has not changed. 

(But God, does he want it to. He wants to tear the collapsing space designed for him with his bare hands and untwist himself in a way he’s always dreamt of.) 

Pang, on the other hand, broke the mould he was designed for with a flick of his fingers, and carved a space for himself with the same self-righteous determination burning his eyes when he had first crashed into Wave; the same self-righteous determination that he sees burning embers in his eyes now. 

Pang wants to change the system. Pang believes that he is a part of something bigger than the litany they have been designed for. 

Wave hates him. 

(Pang believes that Wave is a part of something bigger too. He believes in him, despite it all. Wave doesn’t know what to do with that.)

Wave hates how Pang ignites the need for bringing about a change in him – the one he feels resonating inside his bones. 

Wave hates that Pang is right. 

Wave hates that he believes in Pang a little more than he has ever hated him. 

Wave hates that he wants to stand beside Pang when they burn the draconian system down. 

It would be fitting, Wave thinks, his gaze lingering on the same person who breathes revolution as easy as he smiles. It would be fitting to stand beside him and tear the predestined positions created for them with their bare teeth. 

It would be fitting to stay beside him through it all. 

***

Pang sees himself as the hero despite the layers of insecurities he carries himself with. Pang sees Wave as something extraordinary.

Pang sees them both as the only people capable enough to bring about a change that would set fire to the breeding ground for hatred and injustice. 

Wave is reluctantly inclined to agree. 

“You really think that this is going to work,” Wave states, watching Pang stand in front of his bulletin board. 

The evening light filtering through the window makes Pang look incredibly soft around the sharp edges he pretends he doesn’t have. 

Wave’s gaze lingers longer than necessary. 

“I don’t,” Pang says easily, with a nervous twitch of his finger and the quick inhale that he stifles in a moment.

Pang does that, sometimes, trying to hide the reactions he deems unfit. 

Wave sees it anyway. He’s always looking at Pang these days. 

Wave cannot look away.

(At some point he realises just how deep his feelings run for Pang, superimposing over his entire being in the most obtrusive way possible.)

(His stupid feelings can wait, though. They have more important things to accomplish right now.) 

“I’m not going to stop trying until something changes,” Pang says with a nervous roll of his shoulders. “We are not going to stop trying until it changes for the better,” he says with a smile meant to assure only those around him.

Wave would rather die than be compared to the ordinary others around Pang. He doesn’t say as much. 

“Or until the Director dies,” Wave says nonchalantly, coming to stand beside Pang. 

Pang gives him a disapproving look despite the laughter dancing in the depths of his eyes and his shoulders lose the tight posture. Pang lets his self-assurance crack, just enough to let the sliver of doubt beam through. 

This is Wave’s first time making a connection with someone who has seen him at his absolute worst and decided that he is worth it anyway. Wave wants to cherish it, nurture it, hold it the way it deserves to be held. 

Wave has no idea how. 

He holds Pang’s shoulders and feels him tense before he melts completely under his fingers. 

“We’re not giving up,” Wave assures and hopes that it is enough. “We’ve got so far. There is no way we’re giving up.”

“Even if we lose?“ 

"Even if we lose." 

***

They lose. 

Pang sees himself as a dumb kid from Class 8. Pang seems happier than what he was the first time they’d met, but Wave knows him better than that. Pang loses the spark of the revolution that had always glowed from within him. Pang looks like he’s always somewhere far away. Pang is completely different. 

Wave loves him all the same. 

There is no way that he’s giving up. 

***

None of the Gifted classmates (friends, he thinks reluctantly, joyously) has to be forced and convinced to join on-board once the plan is laid out in front of them.  

Pang had been sure of that when they’d prepared for the worst-case scenario in five different ways, each on differing levels of complexity. 

"You won’t even have to convince them,” Pang had said. “You don’t see them, Wave. They think that there’s no way but this." 

Wave had not felt the need to see anyone before. 

He had looked away from Pang, his heart stone heavy, and had looked towards the sky littered in heavy grey clouds. 

The atmosphere at the terrace had felt oppressive somehow, that day. Wave can still taste that air. It had always felt uncomfortable preparing for the worst-case scenarios. 

"You think that they’d be willing if they know that there’s a way out of this,” Wave states. 

“I know that,” Pang had said, a familiar firm determination set in his eyes. “They’re good people, Wave." 

Pang and his willingness to believe in the good of everyone. It would be their downfall one day, Wave was sure of that.  

"We’ll see,” Wave had answered. 

*** 

Pang gets his memories back. 

Wave gets his best friend back. 

Wave sees Pang as a leader, a just person willing to bend the world for everyone that it wasn’t made for. Wave sees Pang as a brilliant man with a heart big enough to encompass everyone, willing to fight for everyone and anyone. Wave sees Pang embody strength, courage, determination, and justice all in one. Wave sees Pang as someone always, always putting others before himself, choosing to pick the best possible option even though it harms him. Wave sees Pang losing himself, losing Namtan, losing everyone again, finding everyone again, and trying again and again. 

Wave sees Pang for himself. Wave loves him. 

The feeling – known two years in the making, pulling the ground from underneath him one moment in the making – chokes him, throws his world off the axis until it is tilted enough to fit, until the feeling blooms and blooms and he feels it peeking out of all the stitches of his tattered self until it consumes him whole. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Pang asks, leaning against the fold of his elbows, two chairs away from his. 

“Nothing!” Wave says – not squeaks because he doesn’t squeak – leaning over to drape his jacket over his shoulders.

Pang holds his wrist. Wave’s heart thunders in his chest. 

“Wave.”

“Aye, shit Pang! Why are you making this weird?" 

"Wave,” Pang says, pulling his wrist closer to him. 

Wave is – as always – helplessly pulled by him.

“What is going on?" 

Pang sounds genuinely concerned. Wave reminds himself that they’re essentially in the middle of a war and that they’d have plenty of time to talk about his embarrassing feelings – after. 

"Nothing,” he repeats. 

Pang’s eyes search his for a moment before he lets go of Wave’s wrist. 

Wave leans forward to thread their fingers together. 

Pang’s eyes widen and his breath hitches. 

“Wave?” Pang asks, scooting forward. 

(Now is not the time, Wave tells himself. They’re at war. Later. Later. Later.) 

“I understand P'Chanon a lot more now,” Wave replies. 

(But when?)

Pang’s eyes widen a little more. He presses their fingers together. 

(If not now, then when? Wave thinks. They’re always going to be at war.) 

“I’d do the same if it was you,” Wave says, trying not to let the nerves flood through. 

Pang’s eyes are filled to the brim with shock, before realisation dawns on him, tinted by something akin to hope. 

Wave moves to tighten their fingers. Pang beats him to that. 

“You mean that?” Pang asks in a whisper. “Because if you don’t, then I’m going to embarrass myself by being stupidly happy, Wave. Wave, tell me you mean it." 

"I do,” Wave replies as if there was any question about it. 

Pang stands and sits on the chair right beside Wave. 

He leaves Wave’s hands and clasps his face between his hands. “Oh my god,” Pang whispers, looking into his eyes. “You really do. You really mean it.”

Wave feels raw and open in front of him. Wave has never felt safer. 

“I do,” Wave says. “Pang, there’s nothing in the world that I wouldn’t do for you." 

Pang leans forward to press their foreheads together. 

Wave’s eyes flutter close. 

"Me, too,” Pang says, his voice devoid of any trepidation. “If it wasn’t blatantly obvious. I feel the same." 

Wave can feel Pang’s eyes on him. He wraps his fingers around Pang’s wrists and holds him tight. 

"I like you,” Wave says, because he has to say it. Has to put it out there before it swallows him whole. He looks into Pang’s bright eyes and sees relief and affection swimming in them. 

“I like you too,” Pang replies with a soft smile as if it is that simple. 

(It is. It really is.) 

Outside, the war will continue like it always does. They’ll lose and then win, and then hang somewhere in between and then lose and then win again and again. They’ll begin the beginning, over and over. 

It is fitting that Wave gets to stand beside Pang through it all. 

#the gifted #the gifted graduation #pangwave #pang x wave #thai drama #pangwave fics #the gifted fics #tgg #gmmtv #chimon wachirawit #nanon korapat #may.writes

[hobeymakar]

Unapologetically | C. Makar Part 1

Chapter word count: 3,526

A/N: Title from the song Unapologetically by Kelsea Ballerini. This is my first chaptered fic in a long time and my first written on here, so please be kind. This fic is based off a set of very vivid reoccurring dreams I’ve had over the last couple of months that involve Cale and like the true psycho I am, I wrote the big things that happened in those dreams down. Then I decided recently to just turn it to a fic, so this is pretty self-indulgent. Is it possibly narcissistic of me to write a fic about me? Maybe, but I’m gonna write it anyway. This first chapter is gonna be a lil boring and weird because it has a lot of time skips but Chapter 2 will be much more exciting and way better

Shoutouts: @pizzasloot and @hockey-and-wine for being my biggest cheerleaders for writing for this fic in the gc and also shoutout to @grenawitka​ for always keeping the gc lit. I love you girls!

Warnings: explicit language, alcohol use

-

Tatyana “Taty” Marie Ventura or “Ace” as she is now being known as, never thought that when she started a podcast in the comfort of her Rhode Island home, that she would kind of blow up. Taty started the Ace of Hockey podcast because she wanted a career in hockey media and wanted to do it her way, being unapologetically herself. She started the podcast and started messaging hockey players and other athletes in hopes that they would come onto the podcast to talk about diversity and inclusion in the sport.

That’s how she finds herself on an early October evening receiving a message from Cale Makar on how he’s a fan of the podcast. She internally screams because she never thought an actual hockey player would listen to the podcast. She assumed only hockey fans would listen to the podcast and that it would never reach the notoriety of other hockey podcasts.

From: calemakar_

Hey, just wanted to say that I’m a big fan of your podcast. Buddy of mine showed it to me and I think it’s fantastic. It’s helping me learn how to be a better ally

To: calemakar_

Thank you so much, that means a lot honestly!

From: calemakar_

You’re welcome. I’ve been showing it to the team and they think it’s great for them to learn how to be better allies

To: calemakar_

Wow, that means so much! I just want people to know that hockey is great but it would be so much better if it became inclusive to everyone regardless of sex, gender, race, ethnicity, religion, etc. I just want hockey to really be for everyone

From: calemakar_

That's what we all want. We don't want anyone to feel like they can't play or enjoy hockey because of who they are

She doesn't know how to keep the conversation because she's awkward and just lets the dm sit there. She turns her attention to the latest hockey news and figuring out who's gonna be her next guest for the podcast.

A few hours later, she sees a follow request on her personal IG account and not the podcast account. She sees it's from Cale and is confused on why he would want to follow her personal account. She barely posts stuff about the podcast on there and uses it more to keep up with family with the occasional posts promoting the podcast and the guests. She accepts the request and doesn't think anything of it.

A few days later, she notices that he's been liking her posts and viewing her stories. He's been seeing her interact with family and friends and she still doesn't understand why he cares enough to keep up with her personal account. It starts becoming weird when he adds her on snapchat.

She sends him a dm on instagram to make sure it's actually him and not someone pretending to be him.

To: calemakar_

This might sound totally weird but did you just add me on snapchat?

From: calemakar_

Yeah I'm sorry. Josty thought it would be funny to hijack my phone and add you

To: calemakar_

No need to apologize, I just wanted to make sure it was actually you and not someone trying to be you to catfish girls

From: calemakar_

Yeah no, definitely my account

She accepts him as a friend on Snapchat and sends him a message.

To: Cale Makar

Hope it's okay I added you back

From: Cale Makar

Yeah, that's cool. You didn't have to tho. Don't want you to feel like you had to

To: Cale Makar

Trust me I added you back because I wanted to. I don't just accept anybody

She hits send before she can even think twice about it but then she reads it back and wants the ground to swallow her whole. She panics as she watches the delivered turn into a read and the little bubbles show up saying he's typing. It feels like forever before Cale sends a response back.

From: Cale Makar

Well I'm glad you didn't add me back out of pity

She doesn't know how to respond to that right away so she opens up other messages and posts updates on her work on her story. She goes back to the messages and starts typing a response, not wanting to leave him on read forever.

To: Cale Makar

Why would anybody do that?

She exits out of it and hopes that her attempts at extending a conversation aren't met with disappointment.

From: Cale Makar

I admit you got me there

To: Cale Makar

I get people to say that a lot

From: Cale Makar

Never picked you as the type to brag

To: Cale Makar

There's a lot of layers to me and a lot of things you don't know about me

From: Cale Makar

Well I hope I get to know more about you

She blinks multiple times not knowing if the message was actually real. After blinking several times, she realizes the message was real and she lets out a squeal. Is he actually flirting with her? She pinches herself because she must be dreaming. There's no way her favorite hockey player and crush is flirting with her. Shit like that doesn't happen to her! She has zero game and has been on a grand total of zero dates in her life. She has had zero boyfriends and girlfriends in her life, so this is something brand new for her.

Maybe she's reading it wrong? Maybe he's just being polite and isn't actually flirting. She decides it's better not to stress it and just go with the flow. 

That's how she approaches the next couple of weeks with her pumping out content for her podcast, working her actual day job, and working on her social media game for the podcast. She also dms tons of people she sees as potential guests on the podcast. 

Her conversations with Cale become more frequent as she eventually finds herself sending him snaps daily. He actually feels comfortable enough to comment on her posts on her personal IG page now and she honestly doesn't know how this is all even real.

Like before she's not stressing it and is going with the flow. However, on the day of Cale's 22nd birthday, she gets hit with a message that causes her to freak out a little.

From: Cale Makar

Hey, is it cool if I got your number? It's much easier if I can just text you. I like you and want to keep getting to know you more

She hyperventilates because she has never had another human being shoe this much interest in her, her whole life. She pinches herself to make sure it's real and it really is real. Cale Makar actually asked for her number. She doesn't know if she should be jumping for joy or preparing for something to go wrong. This is completely uncharted waters for her and she doesn't know if she should go with her heart or her mind. Her mind is telling her not to do it, but her heart is telling her to do it. After a minute, she decides to go with her heart.

To: Cale Makar

Yeah, that's totally cool! (xxx-xxx-xxxx)

She sees a text from an unknown number a minute later pop up on her phone

From: xxx-xxx-xxxx

Hey, it's Cale

She saves the number under the name "Cale 🥰" and types out a response

To: Cale 🥰

Hey, happy birthday btw! Hope you're having fun!

From: Cale 🥰

Thank you I'm in Calgary rn with my family

To: Cale 🥰

Glad you're having fun with them

From: Cale 🥰

Thank you it's good to be back home

To: Cale 🥰

I can imagine! I'll let you get back to your family

She focuses on getting ready for Halloween, which also happens to be her sister's birthday. Her sister is turning 21 this year and she wants to make the most of it, even in the midst of a pandemic. They plan on going to Salem, Massachusetts with family and throwing a little party at a cousin's house in Brookline, Massachusetts. She sees Cale post pictures and videos on his Snapchat story of him and his family celebrating his birthday. She sees all his teammates wishing him a happy birthday on Instagram and Twitter.

As she’s getting ready to go to bed that night, she gets a video call from Cale.

“Hello?” she asks, not knowing why he would be calling her.

“Ace!” he shouts, causing her to cringe slightly.

“How’s your birthday going?” she asks.

“Great! I’m with my brother and some buddies from back home! We got a bonfire going on right now!” he explains, showing off the fire and his brother and friends.

She wants the ground to swallow her whole because she looks absolutely disgusting with her hair tied up in a bun, and old URI sweatpants and an URI sweatshirt on. She has no makeup on and she’s pretty sure she has some acne on her face.

“Hey Ace! I’m Taylor, Cale’s brother!” Taylor shouts in excitement.

She can clearly tell that he’s buzzed, as well as Cale.

“Hey Taylor,” she smiles, waving at him politely.

His buddies also introduce themselves and she can tell that they’re also slightly buzzed. A part of her hopes that they aren’t driving and are gonna make it back home safely whether tonight or the following day.

“You should come!” one of his friends suggests.

“I’d love to but I live in America and the border is still closed,” she replies, feeling slightly awkward.

“It’s a shame! I know Cale really misses his girl right now!” another friend chimes in, causing her to almost choke on her wine.

“I’m not his-”

“He won’t stop talking about you! He’s got it bad for you!” another friend adds, causing her to blush even more.

If the ground would swallow her up right now, that would be amazing because she can't believe the shit that she’s hearing right now. She doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol that has his friends saying that but a part of her wishes it’s true. God, a part of her wants him to want her because she definitely likes him. She likes everything about him but she’s too much of a loser to put herself out there more. So she just lets him do all the talking and flirting because once again, she has no game.

“Shut up Taylor!” Cale cries out, shoving his brother lightly.

“Well you seem to be having a fun time with your friends,” she says, not wanting to bring up anything that was said about his feelings for her. 

“It would be better if you were here,” he adds, his voice dropping slightly in volume.

“Yeah, well maybe we’ll meet one day,” she adds, not wanting to sound desperate to meet him or anything.

“When I get back to the States, I’ll make that a reality,” he replies, sounding sincere for being slightly intoxicated.

She’s reminded of the saying that drunken words are sober thoughts and gets a warm feeling in her stomach.

“Well I’ll let you keep having fun, birthday boy. I’ll talk to you later,” she smiles.

“Bye Ace,” he smiles back, before ending the call.

She immediately refills her glass of wine because she’s definitely too sober to be thinking about all the feelings Cale manages to give her every time they talk. She eventually falls asleep and if she dreamed about being in Calgary with Cale, she’ll blame it on the alcohol fucking with her dreams.

The next day is a busy one for Taty as she celebrates her sister’s 21st birthday in the best way she can while in the middle of a pandemic. They go to Salem, Massachusetts and have a blast doing many Halloween-related activities and then once it gets late, they head down to their cousin’s place in Brookline, Massachusetts to watch Halloween movies and to have a good time. Her sister decides to get drunk and Taty posts all their adventures on her Snapchat and her Instagram. She also sees that Cale has been posting his Halloween adventures on Snapchat, which aren’t as exciting this year because there’s no Avs Halloween party this year due to it still being the offseason and not everyone on the team is in Denver at the moment.

The next few weeks go by for Taty and it eventually gets to the point that she’s video chatting with Cale every day. They sometimes will stay up until late at night just talking and getting to know each other. Every day she’s becoming more comfortable and it’s on the first day of training camp, where she decides she’s finally gonna grow a pair and let him know how she feels.

He calls her after a long day at training camp and she actually has the time to talk to him as she isn’t working on anything for the podcast or her day job. 

“How was camp?” she asks him, as she locks herself in her room.

The last thing she needs is for her nosy ass sisters to eavesdrop on her conversations with Cale.

“It was tiring but fun. It was great to be out there with the guys again, even though everything is so weird with the virus going on,” he explains.

“Oh I bet, I can’t imagine all the testing and the extra precautions you guys have to take. The whole season is gonna be super weird huh,” she replies.

“Yeah, weird is a bit of an understatement,” he chuckles lightly.

“I really like you,” she blurts out, then immediately wishes the ground would swallow her whole.

She buries her face in her hands and contemplates ending the call to save herself from further embarrassment.

“Oh thank god! I was starting to think you didn’t really feel the same,” he admits, biting his lip.

“No I definitely like you. It’s just I’m new to this. I’ve never dated before or anything. I’m kind of a giant loser if you haven’t already caught on,” she admits, almost rambling at the end.

“Yeah no, you’re not a loser! You’re the coolest, most fun girl I’ve ever talked to and I just want to keep getting to know you because I really like you,” he assures her.

"So are we putting a label on this? Are we dating?" she asks.

"I guess you can say we're long distance dating," he chuckles lightly.

"I did know our video chats were considered dates," she teases.

"I was seeing them as dates and I want our future ones to be considered dates," he confesses.

"Alright so set up our next date," you tease.

"I know you're recording for the podcast tomorrow so what about Wednesday?" he asks.

"I'm off work Wednesday so that would be perfect. What time works for you?" she asks him.

"8pm my time," he answers.

"Yeah that works for me," she smiles.

"So it's a date?" he asks.

"Yeah it's a date," she smiles, getting a warm feeling in her stomach.

She tells him about some funny stories involving her family and he tells her some funny stories from training camp. They chat for hours and before she knows it, it's past midnight and she has to go to work in the morning. 

“I need to go to bed. I have work in the morning. Goodnight Cale,” she yawns, waving at him

“Goodnight love,” he waves back, ending the call. 

If she cheeses a little at the fact he called her love, no one is around to see it. 

December goes by pretty quickly and she feels bad that her calls with Cale become less frequent. December is the busiest month at work because everyone is doing Christmas shopping (being a store manager is hard work) and she finds herself working double the amount of hours she worked before the holiday season. Add doing the podcast three times a week and she’s absolutely gassed. Luckily, Cale doesn’t hold it against her because he starts getting more busy with preseason starting and his parents coming down for the holidays. Taylor is currently in the middle of his final season in the AJHL so he can’t make the trip down to Denver for the holidays. They text each other every day throughout the month however, and she manages to call him on Christmas and on New Year’s Eve, asking him if he’s excited for the new season to start on the 2nd.

2021 starts off worse than 2020 started because of the pandemic but Taty manages to make the best of it. She watches the Winter Classic while on video call with Cale. Luckily, the Avalanche start their season off at home again this year. The following day, she finds herself rushing home from work to be able to catch the Avs first game of the season against the Wild. She makes it home and takes a quick shower before changing into her Cale jersey and joggers. She quickly eats dinner before going into her room. She puts the game on and makes it just in time for the players to come out to the ice. She watches the game and manages to text Cale throughout the game knowing that he won’t see the string of texts until after the game. He finishes the game with one assist and 2 hits, as the Avs win 4-2 to start off the new season on a high note.

As she’s getting ready for bed, she gets a call from Cale.

“Hey, great game,” she smiles, trying not to show how tired she is.

“Oh shit, I just realized how late it is over there,” he sighs, not wanting to keep her up.

“It’s okay. I always stay up past my bedtime to talk to you,” she teases.

“How was work?” he asks.

“Annoying. We’re winding down from the holiday season but we still got a lot of people shopping and returning stuff,” she explains.

“I don’t know how you do it honestly, being so young and running a store, I mean,” he explains.

“Yeah well luckily I’m only an assistant manager,” she replies.

“Still pretty incredible what you do,” he assures her.

“Says the NHL superstar,” she scoffs.

“Hey, I’m not a superstar at all! I’m just another player like everybody else trying to be the best at my position,” he explains.

“Why do you have to be so humble all the time?” she teases.

“It’s just who I am,” he shrugs.

“And I love you for it but like just admit you’re a superstar,” she replies.

“Fine, I’m a superstar. Happy now?” he teases.

“The happiest. When are your parents going back to Calgary?” she asks, switching the subject.

“Tomorrow,” he answers.

“I’m glad you got to have them with you for the holidays, though,” she adds.

“Yeah, it was great seeing them again. I just wish Taylor could’ve been here,” he replies.

“Yeah well you’ll see him once his season ends and on the bright side, he’ll be at UMass next season,” she adds.

“Yeah I just miss him. I always go home for Christmas and this year I couldn’t,” he explains.

“Yeah I can’t imagine what that’s like but it will get better,” she assures him.

“Yeah I know it will,” he nods.

“I wish I could be there to make you feel better,” she sighs.

“Yeah, well we’ll see each other next month,” he smiles, a hopeful tone in his voice.

“February 5th can’t come fast enough. I’m gonna blow you away with the best interview you’ve ever done,” she teases, referring to her interviewing him for the podcast.

“I guess we’ll have to see about that,” he teases back.

“You wound me, Makar!” she fake gasps.

“I’ll make it up to you with a killer real first date,” he smiles.

“I’ll hold you to that. I expect to be really wooed,” she teases.

“It’s gonna be the best date you’ve ever been on,” he almost guarantees.

“It’s gonna be the first date I’ve ever been on,” she informs him.

“I know. That’s why it’s gonna be the best you’ve ever been on,” he jokes, causing her to roll her eyes.

“You’re so funny, Makar,” she deadpans.

“Stop acting like I don’t make you laugh all the time, Ventura,” he teases.

“What happened to humble Cale? I like him better than this smug one I got here,” she teases back.

“Stop acting like you don’t like it,” he replies.

“Yeah, I like every side to you,” she admits.

“Well that’s good because I like every side of you,” he smiles.

She feels her cheeks heat up and that warm fuzzy feeling return to her stomach. Is this what falling in love feels like? She’s never felt this way before and god, she hopes the feeling never fades because it’s amazing. No wonder people love falling in love so much, it’s magical and she hopes she doesn’t fuck it up. She just counts down the days until February 5th praying to god that nothing goes wrong once they finally meet.

#cale makar #colorado avalanche #hockey #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #cale makar fanfic #hockey fanfiction #nhl #nhl players #nhl imagines #cale makar imagine

[heirloommtomatoes]

you’re in a car with a beautiful boy

I’m at least 90% sure this ask was not sent with the intent of receiving a fic as a response but. Here we are. This got way longer and more convoluted than I had intended it to be and I’m jus gonna post it at this point bc i’m losing my mind re-reading it jsksk ! The title is from part 24 of Richard Siken’s poem “You Are Jeff���. Perfect poem for their first kiss, I think! Enjoy reading! :)

Warnings: Two instances of canon-typical homophobic language; canon-typical swearing.

Word Count: 2.6k~

The day Ian Gallagher shows up at his door, red-cheeked, out of breath, and wanting, no — “I need to see you” — needing him, Mickey knows he’s done for.

What comes out is: “I thought you were working today.”

Nice, dumbshit, that’s helpful, he registers the thought somewhere in the back of his mind, but mostly he just can��t stop staring at Ian. His eyes flick over his face, and he doesn’t have time to be shocked by how much he cares.

He’s embarrassed to reveal that yes, he did memorize Ian’s work schedule because he was in fact listening to the guy when he was busy running his mouth at the convenience store. Instinctively, he casts a quick glance over his shoulder. He can’t let Terry see this gay shit, Ian all worked up about some mommy issues and Mickey trying in his own way. To do what exactly, he’s still not completely sure. Comfort him, maybe? He doubts his father would clue in, his head’s too far up his homophobic ass for that, but like hell Mickey’s gonna risk it. Nothing’s gonna touch Ian. Fucking ever, if it’s up to him.

“I’ll meet you there in twenty,” Mickey says a short while later. He closes the door and goes back inside to stand around the dining table where Terry was going over some kind of raid or bust or heist while somehow managing to boss Mandy around every other word.

Mickey can’t focus on anything. He’s going to see Ian in twenty minutes. He’s bubbling with palpable excitement and fear and feelings he has no name for. What if Ian wants to talk about everything? Does he smell bad? What could Mickey say so he doesn’t leave? So Ian doesn’t see what a miserable shit he is? He hates Ian fucking Gallagher for making him care about dumb stuff like this, for making him incapable of hearing a word his Dad is saying to him and his brothers, for making him want to do some astronomically stupid thing like kiss him.

“Mickey, why you over there starin’ like some dumb fuckin’ fag?”

He doesn’t work up the courage for over another year.

Mickey slams the door to his room after running errands with Iggy all morning. It smells stale and one of the posters is curling off the wall in the mid-summer humidity. He’d changed his sheets this morning. The same red ones from the day Ian had burst in here like a maniac demanding the gun back. From then on, the two had been inseparable; no matter how hard their South Side circumstances had tried to pry them apart, every time they came back together like magnets.

Mickey knows he can’t really hide from Ian, and it scares him as much as it excites him. Ian reads him like no one ever has. The guy even had the nerve to smile that adorable smile that makes Mickey’s chest tight when he’d told him he’d rip his tongue out back in juvie. For some reason that Mickey cannot begin to fathom, Ian seems to want to spend time with him. Seems to believe in him.

He had thought himself perfectly fine to live a life half-awake, to spend his days either in prison or in the Milkovich household (one in the same, he thinks - except that juvie doesn’t have Terry), probably die by shivs or bullets or fists, and have his body buried in some unmarked grave all before his 50th birthday. Ian had wedged his place in the timeline of Mickey’s life. There was a before, and an after, and neither of them would ever be the same. Mickey pretends that its not this thought that keeps him up at night.

As soon as he realized that Iggy and Colin and Terry looked at girls and actually wanted them, that it wasn’t just some bizarre social act they all bought into, he knew he was fucked for life. His whole existence feels like some grand joke that everyone is in on but him, and when he lays down at night and stares at his ceiling and thinks about Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, Ian Gallagher, he wonders if maybe he was the butt of it all along.

Ian Gallagher, who knew him and wanted him anyway, who took the time to care about him, who sought him out to spend time with him just because he wanted to. When had their ten minute fucks turned into smoke breaks? When had their smoke breaks turned into —

Mickey’s phone dings in his pocket as he sits on the steps of the Milkovich house, a cigarette dangling idly from his mouth.

Ian

what are ur plans today

He swallows his heart back down as it leaps into his throat, almost dizzying him with excitement. Get a grip, you fuckin’ girl. He’d done all that he needed to do for the day. He’d helped Iggy with some errands in the morning and had planned on laying low, playing Halo 3, and chain-smoking his way through a pack until dinner.

He chews on his lip as he considers what to say. He texts back:

Mickey

don’t have any

He wants to say “why, what’s up?”, he wants to say “let’s go to the dugouts”, he wants to say “let’s do something”, “let’s hang out”, “i want to see you”, “i want you”. But he’s not allowed to want things. Certainly not…this. Whatever this is. He receives a response almost immediately and can’t help but crack a fond smile. Someone’s eager.

Ian

come with me to that abandoned building near the L

you know the spot

That’s how Mickey finds himself sitting atop a wooden platform, watching Ian run military drills below at 1 in the afternoon on a Sunday.

He fires his gun into the sky while resolutely pretending not to be checking out the younger boy below.

“Hey,” Ian says, breathing heavily and squinting against the sun and Mickey finds himself realizing he is made of things he cannot ever have, “You know that guy you beat the shit out of at that club?”

Of course Mickey remembers. His stomach flops at the mention of him.

“He wants me to sneak into his mansion and take all of his crap.”

“Really,” Mickey responds dryly, firing off another shot. He doesn’t want Ian to keep talking about him, “Hi-larious.”

“Can’t get it himself,” Ian continues, as if Mickey cares. And the worst part is that he thinks maybe he does — he cares about everything this alien-looking ginger has to say and he hates it and he can never, ever get enough of it, of him, of Ian, “Divorce. Says I can take whatever I want. He’s loaded. You want in?”

Mickey fires shots at the ground by Ian’s head where he’s crawling under some boards. He’s remembering seeing them at that bar in Boystown, out in the heat and in the sun and in public, cracking jokes and living a life Mickey can only watch from behind glass, from behind bars. Fuck that old guy for getting handed on a silver platter what Mickey so desperately craves but cannot have. Not just Ian — freedom. Though Mickey thinks they’re one in the same these days.

“Jesus! Use blanks, maybe?! Fuck.” Ian shouts up at him, dragging himself up off the ground.

“Bring my cousins?” Mickey asks, refusing to look at him. Every time he does he sees them together and wishes that it had been him, sun-drunk and laughing and free by his side.

“Yeah,” Ian shrugs.

“‘Aight, I’m in,” Mickey fires off another shot. He’s angry at Ian for nothing other than exercising his complete right to see other people since they weren’t really together anyway, he’s angry at that old ass man for being able to go out for drinks with him, touch him, kiss him, and most of all he’s angry at himself.

He feels broken for wanting him. He feels broken for not being able to be brave enough to admit that he wants him. He gets cut on his own self-hatred any direction he turns.

“I dunno what you see in that geriatric viagroid,” he says, forcing himself to meet Ian’s gaze, if for a brief moment.

“He buys me stuff, orders me room service,” Ian says nonchalantly, looking up at Mickey. It’s obvious how much he’s been working out. His shoulders are hard and defined, his chest chiseled through the dark green of his military shirt. Mickey feels the familiar sting of contempt rising in his throat and fires off two more shots.

He can’t buy him anything, let alone room service. The fuck kind of response is that? More than anything, it annoys Mickey because he knows it isn’t really true. He’s bullshitting him, and that gets to him more than Ted or Ned or Fred or whatever the hell is name is ever could. He knows he’s not that superficial. Sure, he doesn’t doubt those are nice bonuses, but he knows there’s more to it than that.

He knows Ian. He knows Ian and he wishes that didn’t have to mean he loves him, but it does. He doesn’t understand how anyone could know Ian and not love him. But he’s not quite ready to admit that yet, least of all to himself.

“He isn’t afraid to kiss me,” Ian adds.

Ah. There it is.

His world has become a breathing thing with Ian in it. Before it was stagnant, stale, drowning. It has become a beast with teeth that threatens to tear him from the careful scaffolding he has built around the most fragile parts of his life.

If he kisses him, then everything he fears he is will be true.

Some dumb fuckin’ fag.

So Mickey brings his cousins later that evening and doesn’t stop thinking about Ian’s comment for the rest of the day. The van ride is full of loud music and rolled down windows that let in the warm, fresh summer air, and Iggy and Colin are endlessly bickering and hitting each other in the back of the car.

“Can you assholes quiet down when we get closer? You’re gonna wake up the old lady and everyone else in the goddamn neighbourhood before we even roll in the fuckin’ driveway,” Mickey says, swatting at them from where he’s sitting in the passenger seat. Ian glances his way with an amused smile that Mickey only just catches when he settles back. He grins in return around the cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Oh hey, pass one?” Ian asks, holding out his hand. Mickey’s about to give him one before a car speeds around a corner and almost T-bones the side of the van. Ian’s hand snaps back to the wheel to swerve out of the way, and Mickey drops the cigarette to the floor of the van in all the commotion.

“Asshole, watch it!” Ian exclaims as he uselessly flips off the car that’s now long gone down the road. Mickey lets out a guffaw of a laugh and abandons handing him the lost cigarette in favour of placing his own half-smoked one right between Ian’s lips.

The intimacy of the action doesn’t strike him until he’s nudging the cigarette against his mouth and his eyes are tracing the outline of his lips and he can feel the warmth of his breath against his tattooed knuckles. The raw familiarity of the action and the fact that Mickey’s own lips had just been on the cigarette that’s now resting on the edge of Ian’s mouth has his heart racing so quickly he can feel it in his chest like a ton of bricks. Ian casts him a side-glance out of the corner of his eye as he parts his lips to accept it. Mickey takes his hand away and clears his throat, glancing at the rear-view mirror to an oblivious Colin and Iggy.

“Thanks,” Ian mumbles, remembering himself as he snaps out of whatever it had been that passed between them just now.

Mickey wants to kiss him. He really, really wants to kiss him. He’d tried fucking girls and had been less turned on than he was just now doing nothing other than placing his cigarette in Ian’s mouth.

Ian pulls into the drive minutes later, cigarette since burned through and discarded out the window. Mickey tries not to feel the absence of it as though it were his own lips against his and not just the ghost of them stained onto the cigarette.

Colin drags open the side door and hops out with Iggy, zipping open a duffel bag full of guns. Mickey’s grateful for the distraction, for the absolute focus violence requires that he hopes will shove his desire to do something as stupid as kiss Ian out of his head.

“Hey! Whoa, guys, guys! No fucking guns, alright? It’s just a drunk old lady in there,” Ian says, brow furrowed as he looks at Mickey.

Trust Gallagher to be the defender of drunk old ladies. Mickey bites at his lip, trying and failing to ignore the way his chest swells with adoration at Ian’s request. Soft motherfucker. He’s right, though — any unnecessary violence and this could be a way bigger deal than it needs to be. Plus, he’d rather not piss off his only and best friend. He grabs the guns back from his cousins, much to their disappointment, and makes off toward the house.

He hadn’t woken up this morning thinking that today would be the day he’d kiss Ian. Hell, even now he’s sure that if he thinks about it any more he’ll chicken out and never kiss him at all. Mickey Milkovich, with the F-U-C-K U-U-P knuckles, who wears dirt and a scowl like they’re permanent accessories, is going to kiss Ian Gallagher, the freckled boy who protects drunk old ladies and smiles at him like he hangs the damn stars. He figures he was about to storm into an old lady’s house brandishing firearms without second thought or fright. Is kissing someone really that much more terrifying?

Abso-fuckin-lutely.

But there’s nothing between them but the van and Mickey’s fear. And fuck the fear. Fuck it. 

He can pretend that he kisses him for no other reason than to prove a point, than to fulfill some implied dare. 

At the end of the day, he kisses him because he wants to. 

He kisses him because he likes him. 

He kisses him because he loves him.

Mickey’s heart is racing so badly he feels that he might throw up and well, what an impression that would leave. Every part of him is shaking as he turns and takes one step, two steps, pulls himself into the van and…

His lips are against Ian’s. They’re so much softer than he’d imagined (and he had imagined, often) and warm and Mickey can feel the breath from his nose against his own face. He tastes like smoke and freedom and something sweet Mickey can’t place -- a fucking Snickers bar? -- but loves the taste of anyway.

His brain short-circuits. He lingers longer than he had intended to, but it’s real and it’s better than he ever thought it could be. He’d kissed Sarah Perkins on a dare back in 7th grade and he’d gargled vodka afterwards to wash his mouth out.

He’d thought himself broken for it just not feeling right. But this…this feels right. Ian makes him feel right. He had expected, hoped even maybe, that it would feel wrong. That he would kiss him and feel as though he had done something terrible, something worse than stealing from an old lady’s home, but if it does he can’t bring himself to care at the moment.

On his tongue, in his touch, with his laugh, Ian has given him the vocabulary to understand himself. To put a name to feelings mostly only understood in the illuminating glory of hindsight.

He’s spent his whole life outside of himself. Is this what it is to know yourself? Is this what it is for everything to suddenly make sense? He isn’t allowed soft things. He isn’t allowed this.

But here he is anyway.

And the world spins on.

He wants to kiss him again and again and again but he remembers his cousins in the house and what he suspects was probably less than five seconds feels like an eternity and Ian’s lips are starting to respond and move and is that his hand starting to lift to touch him? oh shit what if they come back to get him and this is what they walk in on and --

He pulls back and retreats as quickly as he’d arrived, throwing up a middle finger at Ian. Afraid to kiss him, Mickey’s ass.

Fuck he thinks as he runs back to the house, and can’t think much else but fuckfuckfuck, every inch of him charged and shaking and electric.

“Forgot somethin’,” he says breathlessly to the two boys who are, as it turns out, barely paying him any mind as they bicker between themselves about how they’re going to manage picking up a cabinet heavier than the two of them combined. Mickey’s not listening to them as they end up dropping it to split up and tackle smaller bait.

He grins wickedly to himself. He did it. Mickey goddamn Milkovich made a choice that wasn’t about pain or hurt or violence. He’d made a choice that was his and his alone and it was soft. Mickey Milkovich could choose to be soft, and gentle, and maybe even caring.

And if he can kiss Ian Gallagher? He can do anything.

#reposting this in a better format i think #gallavich #gallavich fic #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #why is read more not working brruhhh this is so long im sorry #IS it working??? idk #if it isnt #sorry!!!! #my bOYS~!!!! #my writing

[homeformyheart]

maybe the world could be ours - simon montjoy x mc (avsp)

author’s note: i am reposting this due to blog access issues. this story takes place in the middle of chapter 13 of a very scandalous proposal. there aren’t any real plot or story spoilers in this fic, but if you want to be extra cautious not to be exposed to any part of avsp before you read it, then i recommend you ignore this. originally planned as a multi-part fic but we’ll see.

**i also recommend you listen to the song “rewrite the stars” (even better if you watch the scene from the movie - link included below - or have seen the movie) to better get into the emotional mindset of the story.

copyright: all characters are owned by pixelberry studios. song/lyrics are from “the greatest showman” soundtrack, performed by zac efron and zendaya. i do not own any of the above. series/pairing: a very scandalous proposal - simon montjoy x mc (sophie macdonald) rating/warnings: 13+; no warnings word count: 2.1k w/lyrics and 1.8k without based on/prompt: “rewrite the stars” from the greatest showman, performed by zac efron and zendaya summary: sophie needs a break from all the stress, drama, criticism, and investigating and turns to her first love and passion, music and songwriting. 

maybe the world could be ours

sophie knew she was supposed to go to the blythe suite and search around for clues but at the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to open the door. she clenched and unclenched her fists, stretching her fingers out, hoping to release some of the tension she was feeling. sophie could feel an itch she hadn’t felt since coming to London, and knew she needed to let off some steam soon. i wonder if anyone will be near the ballroom, she wondered, biting her lower lip in thought. considering simon was still talking to his grandparents in the downstairs parlor, sophie decided to take a chance and walk back towards the kitchens that connected to the ballroom.

she took a deep breath and pushed open the first set of large double doors, closing them as quietly as possible behind her. she quickly checked that all the other doors, including those for the balcony were closed before seating herself at the grand piano in the far corner of the room. it’s been too long since i’ve played… i should’ve brought my guitar with me, she thought wistfully as her fingers hovered over the ivory keys, slightly twitching of their own accord. sophie closed her eyes as her fingers finally pressed down, a melodic note echoing softly in the empty ballroom.

eyes still closed, sophie ran a few chords on the perfectly tuned piano and a small smile began to tug at her lips. her passion for writing wasn’t always solely focused on journalism or nonfiction; as much as she loved pursuing the truth and telling stories as objectively as any human being possibly could, music was her first love. when the truth seemed out of reach or when her emotions threatened to overflow, music helped her process it all and she found she was calmer and more objective on the other side. she knew exactly which song would help her channel her feelings and found the composition on her phone and began playing the opening chords.

sophie could feel the prickling of tears behind her closed eyelids, hear the voices from the engagement party and the gala, see the accusatory and judging stares that she tried so hard to ignore all come flooding back. thoughts of “you’ll never be enough for them, for him,” “you don’t belong in his world and you never will,” and “you have nothing to offer him” kept running rampant in her mind as the pre-recorded male vocals on her phone started singing.

you know i want you it’s not a secret i try to hide i know you want me so don’t keep saying our hands are tied you claim it’s not in the cards but fate is pulling you miles away and out of reach from me but you’re here in my heart so who can stop me if I decide that you’re my destiny?

simon knocked on the door to the blythe suite, running his hand through his hair. he was beyond tired, emotionally rather than physically, and wanted to see sophie. if he were being honest with himself, which he was a little afraid to be, it was more of a need to see her than want. there was something about her that made him feel safe and at peace, a feeling he almost didn’t recognize, since the last time he felt this safe was with his parents. he knocked again and pressed his ear closer to the door. “darling, are you in there?” the term of endearment rolled off his tongue effortlessly and he almost started wondering to himself if he wanted it to be true and real.

the tears started to spill, one by one as sophie continued to play the piano melody in time with her phone. this was a song she wrote with her high school boyfriend; ironically, the situation had been reversed at the time – he was from the “wrong” side of town and her parents made it clear that she didn’t belong with him. it didn’t stop them from dating and writing songs together anyway, until sophie went off to college. but now, she was of the “wrong sort” and it wouldn’t matter if she was starting to have real feelings for simon – he would become a duke and inherit the estate and their arrangement would be over. sophie would go back to new york once the book was published and never see him again.

what if we rewrite the stars? say you were made to be mine nothing could keep us apart you’d be the one i was meant to find it’s up to you, and it’s up to me no one can say what we get to be so why don’t we rewrite the stars? maybe the world could be ours tonight

where could she have gone? simon wondered, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. he went back downstairs toward the dining room; noting it was empty, he crossed through the room quickly toward the kitchens when he heard it. is that… music? it had been decades since he heard piano music outside of a ball or a party and there was only one grand piano that could be heard from the kitchens. as the approached the ballroom, he could make out that someone was singing and harmonizing with the beautiful melody. he quietly opened the doors just wide enough to glance down the large room at the singer playing the piano in the corner.

sophie took a breath, trying to will the tears to stop so her voice wouldn’t tremble as she prepared to join in on the second verse. she couldn’t help thinking about the gala and all the hurtful glares and remarks, even if she wasn’t a social climber, she was guilty of using simon’s position to further her career. in some way, all of her critics were right.

you think it’s easy you think i don’t want to run to you but there are mountains and there are doors that we can’t walk through i know you’re wondering why because we’re able to be just you and me within these walls but when we go outside you’re going to wake up and see that it was hopeless after all

sophie? she was angled in a way that he could barely see her profile, but he knew it was her. what he didn’t know was what a hauntingly beautiful singing voice she had. he couldn’t help but open the door a little wider so he could take her in. her eyes were closed but the passion on her face was as obvious as daylight as was whatever pain she was feeling in the moment. she is radiant, he thought warmly. he closed his eyes as well so he could listen closely to the lyrics.

when it was just the two of them, it was easy to forget the rules of the aristocracy and the judgments that came part and parcel with titles and secrets. if only they could live in the hopeful peace they felt the day they shared at the children’s center. she would do anything to see that version of simon all the time. the realization that she was falling hard for simon, and fast, was starting to feel suffocating. sophie took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut to keep her tears at bay, with the prickling pain hitting the back of her eyes over and over again.

no one can rewrite the stars how can you say you’ll be mine? everything keeps us apart and i'm not the one you were meant to find it’s not up to you it’s not up to me when everyone tells us what we can be how can we rewrite the stars? say that the world can be ours tonight

the male vocals started up again from her phone and sophie harmonized effortlessly, making simon feel as though he truly was observing a duet. he stepped further into the ballroom, making sure the door closed quietly behind him. in her mind, she was dancing and swaying while singing with her friends around a bonfire at the beach. back when things were a little simpler and she wasn’t falling in love with someone who was from a world that felt impossible to wrap her head around.

all i want is to fly with you all i want is to fall with you so just give me all of you

it feels impossible (it's not impossible) is it impossible? say that it’s possible

sophie stopped singing and stared incredulously at the blue-eyed brit standing ten feet away from her. no, please no, anyone but him, she thought desperately, taking in the sight of someone who was simultaneously the last as well as the only person she wanted to see. she wasn’t ready to share this part of her with him… outside of her family, nigel was the only one who had some knowledge of her passions (and it was limited to the fact that she could sing). muscle memory found her fingers continuing to play as she swallowed hard. the male vocals from her phone sang the last rendition of the chorus but she barely heard a word. she couldn’t tear her eyes away from simon’s ocean blue eyes that were looking at her with a softness she wasn’t expecting.

simon opened his eyes when he realized sophie had stopped singing and was staring at him, with a look of shock and anguish on her face. he felt a little guilty that he snuck into what seemed like a private moment, but he couldn’t help himself. there was so much he didn’t know about sophie, and he wanted to learn all he could. simon took a breath and tried to convey his support in his eyes, all he wanted was to hear her sing again.

how do we rewrite the stars? say you were made to be mine? nothing can keep us apart ‘cause you are the one i was meant to find it’s up to you and it’s up to me no one can say what we get to be and why don’t we rewrite the stars? changing the world to be ours

sophie blinked to make sure she wasn’t seeing things - simon was looking at her in a way that she could only describe as adoringly, and she felt a blush rising on her cheeks. she wanted to pretend simon wasn’t there so she could comfortably finish the song, humming along with the end of the chorus as her fingers continued to expertly dance across the piano keys, slowing as the melody wound down. she felt calmer, as though she had finally spent the emotional energy that had been tormenting her over the last few weeks, clouding her judgment. her heart didn’t feel as clouded and heavy and she looked up from her hands at simon as she sang the last verse, trying to convey her feelings through the lyrics.

you know i want you it’s not a secret i try to hide but i can’t have you we’re bound to break and my hands are tied

as the song ended, simon took a hesitant step toward the piano, his eyes never leaving sophie’s face. sophie felt her heart race and tore her gaze away. she could feel herself start to panic at the thought of having to explain her music or her feelings to simon. she started fiddling with her phone, scrolling through the compositions she saved for other songs as simon slowly approached the piano.

“that was beautiful, sophie. i didn’t know you played,” simon said softly.

sophie took a deep breath and brought her gaze up to his. “there’s a lot that you don’t know about me. and this is something i don’t like to share with anyone.”

simon drummed his fingers on top of the piano, looking thoughtfully. “you don’t have to explain yourself to me and i’m sorry if i intruded. your voice was so captivating, i couldn’t help myself. i hope one day you’ll trust me enough to share more with me. and i do want to learn more about you, it’s just things have been a bit…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“hectic? crazy? awkward?” sophie chimed in, the corner of her lips hinting at a smile.

simon laughed. “all of the above. but hopefully soon, when this dies down, we can…” he trailed off again as he looked at her smile and hazel eyes that were still twinkling from laughter. his gaze softened as he continued, “share more with each other.”

sophie blushed and looked shyly down at the hands in her lap. “i’d like that,” she replied.

#choices fic writers creations #choices vip #a very scandalous proposal #my writing #choices fanfic #playchoices fanfiction #choices fanfics #simon montjoy #simon montjoy x mc #choices #playchoices #pb choices #not twc #reposting for new blog #my choices fics

[ificanthaveu]

Snow in California || Shawn Mendes

Description: After a snow emergency, Shawn is left having to spend Christmas with your family. It’d be completely fine if it weren’t for the fact that they all assumed he’s your boyfriend.

Description per my notes (aka JUMBLY): you’re stuck in LA for Christmas but lucky for you my family’s here so you can just come with me….except there’s a catch, I told my family I have a boyfriend

A/N: Dani is EARLY with a FIC? ya bc she got plans tonight ope anyway ok this is LOOSELY based on “Snow in California” by Ariana Grande, and that wasn’t on purpose but then I was thinking of a title and I’m like wait it’s kinda like the song so I just rolled with it bc this bitch sucks at titles :) also there’s a lil part that parallels “A Christmas Miracle” and I wanna see if anyone catches it ;)

Word Count: 5.9k

12 Days of Ficmas

You watched the clock carefully, waiting for it to hit noon so Shawn would be done with this interview and you could finally get something to eat. You clicked through emails and scheduled a few more things before it would start to die down with Christmas being two days away.

You got lost in trying to schedule an interview for Shawn when you felt something kick your foot. You looked up to see Shawn looking down at you.

“Ready for some damn lunch?” He said, obviously just as hungry as you were. 

“Hell freaking yes,” you said as you slammed your laptop shut and followed him out the door to your car. 

You threw your bag in the back seat and started down the road to a small restaurant the two of you had been wanting to try. 

“When do you see your family?” Shawn asked once you pulled on top the main road. 

“I’ll probably leave midday tomorrow. See my grandparents on Christmas Eve night, and then hang out with my family on Christmas Day,” you said with a smile, not being able to wait for it to be Christmas. 

“Your flight leaves at 6:00 tomorrow, right?” you said as you glanced over at him.

He nodded his head with a small smile. 

“It’s only three days, but I can’t wait,” he said softly. 

You pulled into the parking lot, and Shawn stayed in the car while you ran in to grab your take out order. You got back in the car and plopped the large bag of food on Shawn’s lap.

“My place or yours?” You asked before you backed out.

“Mine. I need to bounce that song idea off you,” Shawn said. 

You nodded your head, remembering what he had told you before. 

“As long as we’re at that meeting at 5:00, we should be good,” you thought out loud as you turned onto Shawn’s street.

You and Shawn made your way up to his condo, getting ready to eat the food you could smell the whole ride home. 

You opened his door and were met with his cheerfully decorated living room that he spent so much time on. You sat down by the island and started pulling out food, wanting to try a little bit of everything. Shawn sat across from you, taking the food as you handed it to him. 

You ate in silence for a few minutes as you looked at your phones. A weather alert popped up. Blizzards around Toronto. You didn’t say anything, hoping it’d pass by or Shawn would never see it. 

You set your phone down after a while, talking to Shawn about the interview he just did, and your plans for your few days you both got to spend at home. You couldn’t get the blizzard warning out of your head. 

“Hey, did you see the weather warning?” You asked casually. 

Shawn furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. 

“There’s supposed to be blizzards around Toronto starting tonight,” you said slowly and carefully. 

Shawn’s face stayed blank, thinking it through. He picked his phone back up to check his email. His face dropped. 

“My flight was canceled,” he said under his breath. He scrolled mercilessly, trying to refresh the page, hoping this was a mistake. 

“Can you maybe find one for Christmas Eve?” You said, immediately pulling out your laptop to search for a new flight for him.

Thirty minutes of Shawn scrolling on his phone, and you looking at every possible way home on your laptop, it was hopeless. There were no flights going into Toronto until two days after Christmas. 

You sat on the arm of his couch, watching him pace back and forth as he talked to someone from the airport. He tugged at his hair and finally sat down on the edge of the couch right next to you. You moved your hand carefully to his back, rubbing it up and down as he tried to speak calmly to the person on the other end. 

“No…no, it’s fine. I get it. Yeah…thanks anyway,” Shawn said as he hung up the phone throwing it on the ground and resting his head in his hand. 

You continued to rub his back, and after a moment, he leaned into you, resting the side of his head on your knee. You could feel his wet cheeks soaking into your jeans. You threaded your fingers through his hair, not talking quite yet. 

You could feel his body shake as his shoulder bumped against your thigh. You moved your hand back down to his shoulders, resting your hand on his opposite one. 

“I’m so sorry, Shawn,” you finally whispered. 

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he let out a sob he definitely didn’t mean for you to hear. At that, you gently pushed him over a little, moving directly next to him and pulled his head into your chest. He adjusted to lay on the couch, his long legs hanging off the end as he rested his head on your lap and you continued to play with his hair. 

You typed out a quick text to Andrew, telling him what happened. He promptly canceled the meeting that was supposed to happen in an hour and asked if he could help with anything.

But there wasn’t.

Because it was two days before Christmas, and Shawn just found out he can’t spend it with his family. 

Instead of saying that, you just told him you’d let him know. 

You sat there with Shawn’s head laid in your lap for longer than you could keep track of. You watched the sunset from his living room window, still running your fingers through his hair as a gentle reminder that you were there when he needed to talk.

After probably an hour, he finally said, “This fucking sucks,” as he turned over to look up at you.

You nodded your head slowly as you looked down at him, “I know.”

It went silent again as he stared up at the ceiling. 

“What am I going to do?” He said barely above a whisper. 

“Anyone here will be glad to have you over. You could always go with Andrew or Josiah, and my family would love to have you as well,” you said. 

“Would they?” He asked as his voice broke.

You nodded your head and said, “Of course, you know they love you.”

He fell silent as he continued to look up at you, and you awaited his answer. 

“When are you leaving?” He asked.

“Tomorrow around 1:00 probably. We’re just going to my grandparents,” you explained. “And then Christmas morning we have breakfast and open gifts just with my family and spend the day lounging around doing absolutely nothing.”

“Are you sure I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Shawn, my uncle’s ex-wife’s kids with her new husband came to our family Christmas last year. Trust me, everyone is welcome, especially you,” you said. 

“Ok,” he mumbled. “Should I bring flowers or something?”

“You don’t have to, but my grandma is a sucker for flowers,” you said as a small smile finally spread across his face.

“I feel like I should get your family presents, too,” he said as he thought this all through.

“You know you don’t have to,” you said. “Your presence is gift enough.”

He finally sat up and stood up quickly, stumbling a little as the blood rushed from his head.

“Will you go Christmas shopping with me?” He asked quickly as he glanced at the time. “The mall should still be open for two more hours, and I don’t know what your family likes.”

You nodded your head and stood up, following him to the door and then to his car. 

You took a few minutes in the car to call your parents and let them know. 

“Hello, dear!” Your mom cheerfully answered her phone.

“Hey, how are you doing with the Christmas prepping?” You asked as you played with the bottom of your shirt.

“Really good! I wish you’d bring that boyfriend of yours though,” she said with a huff.

You side glanced at Shawn, hoping he couldn’t hear what your mom was saying to you on the phone. Your mom had been trying to set you up with every guy around your age for the past few months, so you told her you were seeing someone. You “refused to tell her his name” so she didn’t “stalk him on social media,” but really, he just didn’t exist.

“Well, I am bringing someone actually. Shawn’s coming with,” you said.

“I should’ve known Shawn was the guy you were seeing! The way you two are always together even when you’re not working. Oh! Your dad will be so happy to hear this,” she rambled on.

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head. “Mom, I don’t-“

She cut you off before you could finish, “I gotta go, honey, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

And with that, she hung up. 

You dropped the phone into your lap and banged your head against the window.

A look of panic spread across Shawn’s face.

“They don’t want me to come, do they? I should’ve known. It’s fine, really-“ 

You cut him off, “No, no, they’re really excited you’re coming,” you said with a little too much sarcasm, confusing Shawn further. 

“That doesn’t sound like you’re serious,” he said slowly.

“They think we’re dating,” you said, not daring to look at him, as he whipped his head around to look at you. 

“Why?” Shawn said with a laugh. 

You groaned and rested your face in your hands, shaking your head as Shawn continued to laugh to himself.

“I told them I was seeing someone to get them off my back, and when I saw I was bringing you, she assumed,” you said. “And before I could correct her, she was hanging up on me.”

“If this were to happen to literally anyone, it’d be you,” Shawn said. 

“I’ll call her back later and explain,” you mumbled, looking down at your phone.

“Don’t,” Shawn said quickly.

You looked over at him and raised your eyebrow as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I mean…you’re letting me spend Christmas with your family, the least I can do is pretend to be your boyfriend, so your family gets off your back,” he said. 

You studied him as he stayed serious. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” You said with hesitation evident in your voice.

“[Y/N], it’ll be easy. It’s for three days. I’ve just gotta throw my arm around you occasionally and embellish our everyday stories a little bit. Trust me. No one will even know,” he said with maybe a little too much confidence.

“So, when did we start dating?” You asked him.

“Well, what did you tell your mom?” He turned the question back at you. 

“I first said I was seeing someone…beginning of October? So we’ve been together since September,” you said.

“What day?” He said. 

“Does it matter?”

“Well, yeah. What if someone asks each of us individually what day, and we say different days?” He said.

“Alright, then it was the twelfth,” you said, thinking of a random date. 

“We were in New York that week. Perfect,” he said as he pulled into the parking lot of the mall. “How did we find out we had feelings for each other?”

“You wrote a song about me,” you said with admiration in your eyes and a hand to your heart. 

He gave you a look, “Really?”

“Yes, really. Come on, it’s really not difficult to believe at all,” you said with a scoff. 

“Is it?” He asked as he parked and got out of the car. 

You followed suit and walked towards the entrance with him. 

“You write songs about every girl that’s looked at you. Of course, you wrote one about me,” you said.

“Ouch,” he said under his breath. 

“You’re only saying that because I’m right,” you taunted. 

“Ok, fine. I wrote a song about you. How did you find out it was about you?” He diverted.

“You played it for me, and you referenced a specific memory that happened between the two of us. So I was able to put two and two together,” you said as the two of you walked in and started walking down the first row of stores. 

“And what’s the memory?” He continued.

“I’m doing all the hard work. You pick the memory,” you said, turning into one of your sister’s favorite stores. 

“Does it have to be a real memory, or can I make that up?” He said as you tried to find the sweater your sister wanted.

“It probably should be real, so we can stay as close to the truth as possible,” you said. 

“Alright…” he trailed off, thinking about his time spent with you. “That time we went shopping at midnight, and then you got me in that car accident.”

“It was not my fault!” You defended as you threw the sweater at him. “She’s been looking at this for weeks, and my mom couldn’t find it anywhere. She’ll love you forever.”

Shawn held up the sweater and nodded his head, “Perfect. And it was totally your fault.”

You and Shawn wandered around the mall as you helped him pick out gifts for your family. Two hours later and you walked out with four gifts and the perfectly fabricated story. 

It was late by the time you got back to your apartment, plopping down on the couch, wanting to go to bed, but knowing you had nothing packed yet. 

Shawn was coming over at 8:00 the next morning to ensure you had all your lies in order, so the packing had to be done now. 

You slowly got up and trudged to your bedroom. You grabbed the outfit you were wearing for Christmas Eve and hung it up on your door to put on the next morning. You threw your Christmas pajamas and your Christmas Day outfit along with some other clothes into a suitcase. 

After packing everything up, you sat on the edge of your bed and stared at your dresser in front of you. On top of it sat a little black box. The gift you’d picked out for Shawn weeks ago.

You had contemplated whether or not you had wanted to give it to him since the moment you ordered it. You knew he’d like it. But you didn’t want him to think it was something someone who was “more than a friend and a coworker” would give him. Even though you definitely wanted that. 

You stood up and grabbed the box, opening it up to run your finger across the cool metal of the bracelet, an almost exact replica of the one he had lost when you were in New York. 

You closed it back up and put it in the bag of gifts for your family. It’d make this relationship more believable. You’d at least try to convince yourself of that. 

You tossed and turned all night, and so did Shawn.

He couldn’t stop stressing over how he was going to ruin this. He ran every single possibility through his head, and he just knew he was destined to somehow mess up the story. 

Of course, it was incredibly hard to mess it up since most of it was true. He had fallen for you in September. It was when you were in New York. He was writing songs about you. 

The small box on his nightstand seemed to be screaming at him.

You’d been complaining for months about needing a ring that matched the bracelet you wore every day. Shawn found one. And it was perfect. The perfect gift a boyfriend would give to his girlfriend, but you were only pretending, and he didn’t want you to feel weird about it. 

Without letting himself regret it, he stood up, grabbed the ring and put it in the top pocket of his duffle bag. 

Both of you fell asleep only a few hours before Shawn had to be at your apartment, so he showed up with two very large coffees.

Once you opened the door for him, he carried in his duffle bag and his own bag of presents. 

“Merry Christmas Eve!” He said as he set his things down. “Alright, babe, let’s practice,” he said with a wink as he handed you your coffee. 

“Well, thank you…honey?” You said with hesitation.

He slightly shook his head at you, “You’ve gotta commit.”

“Thank you, honey,” you said with a small smile as you sat down on the couch. 

“Incredibly believable. When did I ask you out officially?” He asked, sitting across from you.

“September 12. We were in New York, and I walked in on you practicing a song you were writing. I knew it was about me after I asked you to sing it for me,” you said. “How did you know you were falling for me?”

“Well, you were the only person who would call me out on my bullshit, and I wasn’t used to people doing that. So it just drew me to you. I slowly fell for every other aspect of you,” he said. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you had to remind yourself this wasn’t real.

“What’s our favorite thing to do together?” He asked.

“Walks in the park with ice cream from that little shop down the street,” you said, taking a drink from your coffee. “What’s the song that’s about me?”

“Well, it hasn’t been released yet, and an artist never reveals the project before it’s done,” he said with the softest smile. 

“I think we’re good,” you say with a shrug. 

“I just gotta make sure I’m always near you with an arm around you or holding your hand,” he added. 

“Exactly,” you said. You glanced down at the time. It was barely 9:00. 

“We really didn’t have to meet this early,” you whispered. 

“I know, but I was nervous,” he whispered back. 

You spent the next few hours practicing random facts about each other and going over memories you had to make up while you both sprawled across the sofa. 

“Do you think it’s going to look…unnatural?” Shawn asked as he sat up. “With my arm being around you. Do I look comfortable?”

He brought his arm around you, resting it on the top of the couch as you leaned slightly into his side. 

“I feel like we look good,” you said, looking over at him. “Hold my hand.”

He slowly laced his fingers with yours as you both fell silent, staring down at your intertwined hands. 

Shawn coughed after a moment, pulling his hand away. 

“Yeah, looks good,” he said, not meeting your gaze.

You nervously tucked your hair behind your ear as you checked the time. 

“If we leave now, we can get more coffee on the way there,” you said with a hopeful smile. 

“Sounds fantastic to me,” he said as he stood up, turning around to help you up. 

You grabbed your things and walked down to your car waiting in the parking lot. You threw your things in the back, quickly checking to make sure the box was still in the bag. 

A little more than an hour and you were back home, pulling into your parents’ driveway. You parked your car and looked over at Shawn. 

“Are you ready?” He asked. 

You looked out your window to see your mom waiting at the door. 

“Let’s do this,” you said as you got out of the car and waved to your mom. You went to grab your bags, but Shawn stopped you. 

“I got it, babe,” he said, brushing you away. 

You tried not to make it obvious at how shocked you were at how he was playing it up already. This might be easier than you thought. 

I greeted your mom with a big smile and a hug as Shawn followed behind you with his arms filled with bags. 

“Merry Christmas!” She said as she held you tight. She let you go after a moment and watched Shawn struggle. 

She quickly took the two bags of gifts out of his hands, and you both had the same expression on your face. 

“I can take that, Mom,” you quickly said as you grabbed your bag of gifts.

“And I can take that, no worries at all,” Shawn said with a smile. 

Your mom patted him on the shoulder as you both walked into the house. 

“Where is everyone?” You asked as you peaked into the living room.

“Your dad and Rachel ran to the grocery store, Aaron is meeting us at Grandma’s,” your mom explained as she shut the front door. 

“Well, we’re going to go put our stuff upstairs,” you said as you gently nudged Shawn to move forward. 

You slipped in front of him as you lead him to your old bedroom. You kicked the door open and set the bag down in the corner of the room. 

You turned around to see Shawn beaming as he looked at the pictures that lined your walls. You slid the bags off his arms as he continued to look around your room. 

“You were so cute,” he said softly as he pointed at a picture with you and your best friend in second grade. 

After setting the rest of the bags down, you stood next to him, looking at the picture. 

“Who’s that?” He asked as he pointed at a picture of you and your high school boyfriend. 

You cringed as you reached up and tugged the picture down. 

“That was supposed to be thrown away,” you said, tossing it in the trash. 

“Ah, gotcha,” he said. “Now you have to fill the empty space.”

“Shawn, I don’t live here anymore,” you reminded him. 

He shrugged, “Well, yeah, but still.”

For the first time, he turned around and looked at you, his eyes then drifting to your bed. 

“We’re going to have to share that, aren’t we?” He said quietly. 

You nodded your head, “Well, you are my boyfriend, so of course, we’d share a bed. And we don’t have a guest room.”

An awkward silence came between you two. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” you said with a pat on his shoulder as you tugged him out of your room, gently lacing your hands together as you pulled him down the stairs. 

You were met with your mom baking in the kitchen, finishing up cookies to bring to your grandma’s house in a few hours. Shawn leaned against the counter, and you leaned gently against his side. 

“Need any help?” You asked. 

Your mom simply shook her head, “Nope, I’m in the zone. Rather you did not interrupt me, dear.”

Your jaw dropped as Shawn laughed at your mom. 

“We’ll just get out of your hair then,” you said a little too dramatically as you tugged Shawn into the sunroom at the back of your house. 

You settled into the couch in the corner, crossing your legs and facing him as he did the same. 

“How are you doing?” He whispered. 

You nodded your head, “good,” you whispered back. “This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

“It’s because I’m a really great boyfriend,” he said with a confident smile. 

Before you could respond, the back door opened, and your dad and sister walked in with a few bags. 

“Hey!” Your dad said cheerfully. You stood up and gave him a quick hug, and Shawn followed, shaking his hand. 

“Nice to see you, Shawn,” he said with a small smile. 

“You too, sir,” he said back. 

“Well, we’ll leave you two,” Rachel said as she motioned for your dad to follow her into the kitchen. 

You sat back down on the couch in your original spot, this time turning to rest your head on Shawn’s shoulder. 

“Tired?” He whispered. 

You nodded your head gently, “Didn’t sleep much last night.”

“Me too,” he said, settling back into the couch and pulling you with him so your head lay on his chest. 

“We still have two hours,” you mumbled.

“Then nap,” Shawn whispered.

He didn’t have to tell you twice as you relaxed into him and fell asleep. It felt too real. That this was your actual boyfriend, and it was his first holiday with your family. You had to beg yourself to not believe that. 

You felt someone tug on your foot, and you jolted awake, smacking your head on Shawn’s jaw as you both groaned. 

You shifted up to your knees, rubbing the top of your head as you brought your hand to Shawn’s jaw. 

“Oh my God, I am so sorry, honey,” you said through a laugh as you traced your thumb across his jaw gently. 

“Not the first time, won’t be the last,” he said as he smiled sleepily up at you. 

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t even realize what you were doing before you leaned in and kissed the side of his jaw where your head hit. You could feel his breath hitch. 

“All better,” you whispered, as you pulled away, his eyes not leaving yours. 

“Alright, love birds. We’re leaving for Grandma’s,” Rachel said, being the one who tugged on your foot. 

You both nodded and stood up, finding your shoes and hopping into your car. You drove the short distance to your Grandma’s house as the car was silent. 

“That was good,” Shawn said as he broke the silence. 

“What?”

“When you kissed my jaw, that was good. As in, like. Very believable,” he stumbled over his words. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “Rachel’s a sucker for shit like that.”

The silence fell again as you pulled up and parked before making your way into your grandma’s house. 

The night went exactly as it was supposed to. Shawn met all your aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents, while also being introduced to other people who showed up. You spent your night in the back corner of the couch with Shawn’s arm draped around you. You barely stood up all night, as any time you needed something, Shawn said he’d get it and would leave with a gentle pat on your knee. 

Your aunt slid into his spot one of those times, giving you a look. 

“Quite the gentleman, huh?” She said. 

You smiled and nodded, “Yeah, he’s pretty perfect.”

“How long has it been? And how come I just found out yesterday when your mom called me?” your aunt asked. 

“Since September, and you know how it is. His private life has to be incredibly quiet for it to stay private,” you said. 

“Are you ok with that?”

Out of all the questions you were prepared for, this wasn’t one you practiced. 

“Um,” you paused. “Yeah, I am. I mean, I work for him,” you said with a chuckle. “Some people wouldn’t take that too well.”

Your aunt nodded her head, “Well, when it’s real as it is between you two, people shouldn’t even think that but that’s just how it is sometimes,” she said with a sigh. “One day.”

“One day,” you repeated, your heart beating out of your chest at how she said this was so real. You wanted to shake her and tell her it wasn’t but you wanted it to be so bad.

She stood up and went back to her spot as Shawn came back and handed you your glass of wine. 

“Am I going to have to drive?” He asked with a smirk as you took another drink.

“Yep,” you said, curling into his side again. 

The night flew by after everyone ate dinner and opened gifts. Everyone was eager to talk to Shawn and you about your relationship. The two of you answered every question perfectly. No one suspected a thing.

Before you knew it, Shawn was driving you home as you dozed off in the front seat. He pulled into the driveway behind your parents. He rounded the car and opened your door. 

“Come on, love,” he whispered, kneeling down by your door as you looked at him. 

“Do I have to?” You mumbled. 

“Want me to carry you?” He said with a small smile.

You nodded your head as he turned around, and you slid onto his back. He shut the door and walked toward the back door with the rest of your family as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

You heard a chorus of goodnights before you felt Shawn shut your bedroom door and set you on your bed. You laid back and shut your eyes, as you heard Shawn rustling around, presumably changing. 

“Come on, [Y/N],” he said with a quiet chuckle, poking your side as he said it. 

You groaned as you opened your eyes and met his gaze just inches away from you. 

“You’re going to regret falling asleep in jeans,” he whispered. 

You sighed as you finally got up and trudged to your bathroom. You glanced down at the bag of gifts before quickly changing and going back into your room. 

“I’m going to run these downstairs real quick,” you said as you saw Shawn laying in the bed, scrolling through his phone. “Want me to grab yours?”

“No,” he said a little too quickly. “No, I can do it tomorrow morning.”

You walked downstairs quietly and rounded the living room towards the Christmas tree. You took a deep breath as you put the gifts under the tree among the rest. The box holding Shawn’s gift stayed in your hands a little too long. You hesitated before standing up and bringing the gift with you into the sunroom, setting it on the tv stand. 

You went back upstairs to your room, seeing Shawn curled up in the covers with his eyes closed. 

You crawled in on the opposite side, pulling the covers up and facing him. 

“I didn’t get to ask you what side you usually sleep on,” he mumbled, his eyes still closed. 

“You guessed right,” you said. 

His eyes flickered open, and he smiled at you as you returned it. 

With that, you closed your eyes and fell asleep to the sound of Shawn’s deep breaths. 

Shawn woke up first. In fact, Shawn woke up with your head on his chest and his arm around your waist as your arm gripped his middle. He looked down at you peacefully sleeping and again reminded himself that this could never happen. You would never feel that way about him. 

He gently removed your arm from him. You shuffled away, turning the opposite direction and burying your head in the pillow, not waking up. 

Shawn breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up and grabbed his gifts, tiptoeing downstairs. 

He set your family’s gifts among the rest and held the small box that held yours in his hands. Without letting himself think too much, he set it at the very back of the tree. 

He stood up to see your brother leaning against the doorway. 

“Merry Christmas,” Aaron said as he moved to sit on the couch. 

“Yeah, Merry Christmas,” Shawn said back, sitting across from him. 

Aaron motioned to the tree with his head, “What did you get her?” 

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” Shawn said. 

Before Aaron could pry further, you walked into the room and sat down next to Shawn as he moved his arm to wrap around you and kissed the side of your head. 

“Morning,” you mumbled.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered. 

You smiled up at him, “Merry Christmas.”

“Coffee, anyone?” Your dad asked as he peaked into the living room. Everyone said yes as he started brewing a pot as Rachel and your mom made their way into the living room. 

Your dad brought everyone a mug as presents were started. 

Your family all loved their gifts from Shawn, commending him on how well he did, and continuously saying he didn’t have to bring anything. 

The gifts dwindled down as Shawn watched the box get closer and closer. Finally, it was the only present left. 

“Who’s that for?” Rachel asked as your mom grabbed it. 

“[Y/N],” she said as she handed it to you. 

You turned to look at Shawn, “You got me something?” You said quietly. 

Shawn nodded his head as he grabbed the box from your mom. 

“Yours is in the other room,” you whispered. 

“Want to go over there?” He asked.

“We’re going to go, uh-“ you stuttered. 

“Just in the other room,” Shawn finished.

“Yeah, to open ours,” you said with a nod. 

Everyone shrugged their shoulders and nodded as you stood up and tugged Shawn to the sunroom, grabbing the box off the stand and settling into the couch. 

“Who’s going first?” He asked. 

“You can,” you said, the nerves setting in. 

Shawn carefully unwrapped the box and pulled off the top. 

“Oh my God,” he said under his breath. “How did you...I can’t believe-“ he was speechless as he traced his finger across the cool metal of the bracelet. 

“It’s the same one, well almost,” you told him. “I somehow found that place in Thailand and had them send me one.” 

“[Y/N], I don’t know what to say,” he said as he looked at you. 

You shrugged your shoulders, trying to control the heat rising to your cheeks. 

Without another word, Shawn handed you your gift. 

You hesitated before unwrapping it and then opening the top. 

You gasped as you looked at the ring staring back at you. 

“Shawn,” you said slowly as you took the ring out. You slid it on your finger carefully. “It matches,” you said with a small smile as you looked down at it. 

“I know you’ve been wanting one that matches your mom’s bracelet, and then I found that one,” he said. 

Silence fell between you two as the realization hit both of you. 

“Shawn,” you said slowly, looking up at him. “This isn’t a gift you give your coworker.”

“Neither is this,” he whispered back. 

You went quiet again, not being able to look at him again. 

“What if I don’t want you to just be my coworker?” He whispered as his voice shook. 

You looked up at him, finally. He looked nervous. 

“What if I want the same thing?” you whispered back.

“Then Andrew isn’t going to be too happy,” Shawn responded. 

You both smiled, leaning in closer and closer. 

“But who cares what he thinks,” he whispered before finally pressing his lips against yours. 

Sparks flew as Shawn leaned back and you followed, resting your hand on his cheek as he deepened the kiss. After a few moments, Shawn carefully pulled away. 

“I could kiss you all day and more, but I don’t think your parents want to see that,” he said with a smile before you pressed another quick kiss to his lips. 

“I know it sucks, but I’m glad your flight was canceled,” you said as you curled back into his side, this time it was real. 

Shawn rested his head against yours after pressing a kiss to your head.

“Me too.”

Hey guys I love receiving love (support your local fic writers kids) so PLEASE reply, reblog, send me an ask, a message THE WORKS

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#Mine #Sm #Fics #Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes smut #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes angst #Shawn Mendes series #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes fan fic #Shawn Mendes fan fiction #Shawn Mendes x reader #Reader x Shawn Mendes #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes oneshot #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes story #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes stories #Shawn Mendes words #Shawn Mendes fics #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes au #Shawn Mendes non au #Shawn Mendes blurbs

[shipping-receiving]

Trivia Tuesday: Some Notes on Full Spectrum

I’m not sure if I’ll return to this story anytime soon, so I thought I’d share a little about what I wish I had done differently, and what I might do if I ever continue it.

First of all, I have to confess that I basically winged it when it came to the plot. The novel on which I based the story has an incredibly elaborate universe, so I needed to figure out how to condense that. Plus, the novel was meant to be the first in a trilogy, but the latter two books have never been published, so I had to make up or gloss over a few things as I went along. Regardless, I knew I wanted seven chapters (seven colours, Seven Kingdoms etc.), so I started off with the chapter titles using idioms/sayings that fit those seven colours. 

The first chapter I wrote was Chapter 4: The Grass is Always Greener (i.e. Jaime and Brienne banging in the meadows of Tarth while tripping on colour), then Chapters 1–3 after that, all while praying that the solution for Chapters 5–7 would just magically come to me. At the end of July my outline for Chapter 7 was still: LOL IDK THEY'VE FALLEN IN LOVE IN A DYSTOPIA NOW WHAT?! So there are a ton of things that I would have changed or included if I had… you know, actually planned everything properly beforehand.

Anyway, some hopes, regrets, questions, and headcanons after the cut:

What I would write assuming the current version stays as it is:

Ideally – though I seriously doubt my abilities to pull this off given the amount of anxiety I experienced regarding all the plot conundrums in this story – I would love to write a trilogy of seven-chapter stories. Seeing as the first focuses on uncovering the conspiracies, the second would involve more political manoeuvring culminating in some sort of revolution, and the third might be… post-apocalyptic? Maybe? Or at least taking place in a kind of unstable version of the new social order.

The second act would also involve a Stoneheart plot, once they make contact with the resistance. This would explore how the Starks’ Purple perception was taken away, and what they know about the Wildfire Protocol.

Along those lines, I’d probably need to figure out J and B’s relationship arcs for the second and third acts. I suppose the most straightforward would be to have her pregnant for the second part, and there’s a time jump in the third part so they already have at least one kid.

I am toying with the idea of writing that epistolary interlude I mentioned at the end of the story. The fic would be entirely composed of sexy letters between Jaime and Brienne while she’s on Tarth (perhaps she’s stuck there for a month or two), but Jaime reveals some of what’s happening with the Council and she discusses what she’s found out from the Stark girls. I was even thinking of hiding the sensitive information in the sexy stuff – code, invisible ink, something like that – so each letter between them might actually have a second letter embedded in it.

I really love the idea of the Wildfire swatch being ‘planted’ all over King’s Landing, not to “burn them all”, but rather as a mass exposure of everyone to the Wildfire Protocol and the ability to see in natural colour. I don’t know how this could be done safely, given the addictive qualities of colour and the general chaos this would cause, but I like the subversion of canon!Wildfire. It might be the grand gesture to trigger a revolution.

*sigh* I might have to write about Shae betraying them. It’s why I tried to be careful to mention that there is hardly any way for her to know that the Stark girls are the Stark girls (it’s not like she can see Sansa’s red hair anyway), even though they stayed at her house for a couple of nights. It’s just so I could keep them protected if I have to.

Now, here’s some parallels with canon that I would make space for if I overhauled the story and turned it into a longfic:

I’d find a way to do Enemies to Lovers instead of Strangers to Lovers. My fics tend to work with the latter, so I’d want to challenge myself in that way. It’ll give me more time to develop the characters and the world as well. In that vein:

I would want to figure out a way for Jaime to be known as the Kingslayer or some equivalent, which would establish animosity between him and Brienne from the get-go. Also:

I would actually write in some form of twincest, though this would likely have ended by the time Cersei marries Robert. The idea of Jaime and Cersei having the exact same Purple perception and seeing the world in the same way (and differently from everyone else) is really ripe for exploring their dynamic and how it became toxic. It’s possible that this dynamic never became (fully) sexual, given the fact that the Colour Perception Test can also function as a kind of rough paternity test, but I think it would make for some great dialogue between Jaime and Brienne as he confronts that past. (I really wanted to write this back when I was planning for this story to switch between Brienne’s POV and Jaime’s, but it became clear that I wouldn’t be able to resolve this comfortably in seven chapters, since I prefer to give the characters time to process.)

By extension, I’m thinking about what it means to “see the world with the same eyes” – and how in canon, Cersei and Brienne are meant to be mirrors of Jaime in vastly different ways. There’s a lot to mine there in terms of Colour Perception (the vision one is born with) vs. World View (the values one cultivates). There’s also some space here for thinking about beauty as being seen vs. the act of looking.

JAIME’S GODDAMN HAND. I never explained how he lost his fingers because… I don’t know. I assume in some kind of accident during one of his scrap colour expeditions. But since its loss is so symbolic in canon, I would want to find a proper parallel for this. Perhaps he loses an eye instead?

And here’s elements from the original novel (Shades of Grey by Jasper Fforde) that I would expand upon:

I’d need to better explain the Chromatic Hierarchy and how it works within the context of a feudal system. Or at least have it make more sense in my head. In the original novel, I think it was intentionally meant to be rotational in some way so certain families couldn’t centralise power for more than a few generations, but perhaps I’ll need to tweak it further to make it fit Westeros.

The original novel had a ‘central government’ called National Colour, which I replaced with the Ultraviolet Council without really having a clue how that might work. Are they a fully functioning government with a civil service? How does that work with a pseudo-feudal system – local/state and central/federal governments?

I might also want to expand on the merit system, which has much higher stakes in the original novel – if you lose enough merits, you’re sent to Reboot (thus far unexplained in the source material). It’s a means of regulating behaviour that I chose to push to the background, but I think there’s potential here for Brienne to lose faith in a ‘moral code’. Reboot could also be the official story for why the Starks were pushed out, rather than relying on the ‘diluted Purple’ narrative.

On that note, I should probably delve a bit more into how scrap colour works, and the whole economy surrounding it. In the original novel, it’s implied that scrap is basically artificially-coloured relics/trash from the past world (our world).

#jaime x brienne #full spectrum #my fic #trivia tuesday #just a lot of rambles that will be uninteresting to most of you i expect #they're barely headcanons and more like all the things i didn't solve #but there's a lot of potential in this verse if i had the patience and the time to sit down and flesh it all out

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Coming Home Chapter 2

Hello fuckers I know I promised this chapter yesterday but then I fell asleep because I was incredibly exhausted. So I'm posting it today because I deserve it Also, the song for the last chapter was Revolution Radio by Green Day, which no one guessed! I'll give you a hint for this chapter- it's very far off from Green Day or My Chemical Romance.

Title: Coming, Coming Home

Chapter Title: Cause I’m with you this time

Chapter Wordcount: 3333

Chapter Summary:

Cherri Cola settles into living with Dr. Death Defying and White Lily, figures out that someone actually cares about him, and makes some reckless decisions.

Warnings: implied/referenced past abuse, referenced past misgendering, light panic/anxiety attack, non-graphic/canon-typical violence and injury, uhhh i *think* that's it? (If you want to know what parts to skip, go to the end notes on AO3- I also put a brief summary of any important info in those parts. Stay safe!)

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia @dagger-queen​ @no-braincells-here @piratecherricola (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

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Chapter 1 AO3 Link

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(Actual fic under the cut)

It took a few months for Cherri to really settle in to living with the other two. He was younger than them, and lacked the shared experience of fighting in the Helium Wars. But all three of them had the shared understanding of having grown up too fast, the pain and weariness in the other’s eyes mirroring his exactly. Not to mention that running a pirate radio station and attempting to spark a rebellion did tend to bond people. Having each others’ backs in firefights, fixing the radio equipment together, and eating their meals as a group only aided that process.

So 109 WKIL slowly got off the ground, heading into the sky just as promised. Their transmitter was fairly decent, and so their range was large even if few listeners were tuning in right now. But the rebellion grew daily, neutrals and Battery City folk abandoning a more peaceful life under the hand of Better Living Industries for the wild world of a killjoy. White Lily spoke over the radio at least weekly, encouraging them to fight, to not let themselves be squashed under bli’s heel. 

“Power is not given, but taken. If you hate oppression, you better be ready to fight against the oppressor and give it everything you’ve got.” 

Cherri was sitting in his usual spot under the broadcast desk, making sure that all the equipment was running smoothly as White Lily spoke above him. Her voice didn’t have the deep, gravelly weight of D’s, but the fire in it was inspiring. There had always been something about White Lily that made people want to follow her, D had told him. Some spark in her spirit that kindled fires in others, bringing them together under her leadership. 

“Better Living may have bombs, and gas, and more ray guns than we can dream of getting our grubby little killjoy paws on. But we have something they can never replace: spirit. You can’t make a fiery heart with pills and white walls. They can take our bodies, shoot us full of plasma and throw us to the wolves. But they can never touch our spirit. Never. We will rise again, as many times as they try to throw us down.

"The spirit of the desert is something they can’t kill with any amount of laser beams. Any size of bomb, any number of exterminators. None of it will squash our spirit, and that’s what makes us invincible. As long as a single killjoy rises to fight, Better Living Industries cannot win. So get out there, crash queens! Get your vehicles, motorbabies. Angel kissers, grab your med kits, and kerosene saints, your matches. We’ve got a corporation to overthrow, and we’re not stopping at just nipping at their heels. Killjoys, it’s time to make some noise!”

She clicked off the radio. “How was that?”

“Good,” Cherri told her. “Inspiring. Makes you want to fistfight an exterminator.” 

“Oh good, that’s what I was hoping for.” Lily paused. “No fistfighting exterminators though, that’s a bad idea.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Oh yes I can,” Lily laughed. She was still grinning as she reached to help Cherri out from under the desk, a grin both achingly close and achingly far to one he remembered. There were days when she looked so much like his sister it hurt, not in her features but in the way she laughed and her teasing grin as she and D bantered back and forth. 

Cherri tried not to think about it as he pulled himself to his feet. “And how do you plan on stopping me?”

“Hmm…I think I shall tackle you.”

“Then what?”

“Make D lecture you nonstop until you fall asleep.”

Cherri laughed as they headed back into the house. "Good luck with that."

So far, they hadn’t had to move the van from its position in front of their home in Zone Four, but all of them knew it was only a matter of time before bli would be breathing down their necks.

“We have some time,” D said that evening. “Our signal will be hard to track, and we don’t have a wide enough reach to be a threat to Better Living Industries yet.”

“We’re getting there, though,” Lily commented, digging around for the last bit of power pup in her can. 

“True, we’ve got a lot more listeners now than we did before.” Cherri was already finished with his, playing with his dented spoon and reflecting the sunlight across the room idly. “It’s going to be hard to stay hidden for long, not when the other killjoys whisper about our station and spread the word between themselves.”

“The more people who know, the easier it is for Better Living to find us,” D agreed. “Of course, we need people to know so they’ll tune in, but we’ll have to be careful as we get larger.”

“Careful, careful, you’re always careful.” Lily leaned back in her chair, setting down her spoon. “I’m not saying we abandon all caution, but there’s going to be risks running a rebellion. A lot of the time, we’ll just have to decide if they’re worth taking.”

Cherri nodded, still examining the spoon. “And a lot of the time they will be.”

“Didn’t know you were such a daredevil, Cher.” He made to glare at Lily, but she went on. “You’re right though. Everything’s a risk, and we’re going to have to take a lot of them.”

“I don’t like that,” D put in.

“None of us do, except maybe Cherri the daredevil over here. But we’re doing it.”

“We’re doing it,” D agreed tiredly. 

“I’m not a fucking daredevil,” Cherri muttered. That was….mostly true. Risk for the sake of risk wasn’t exactly his thing, but risk for any other sake was. As long as only his life was at risk, it was a risk worth taking. He figured, at least.

“You’re pretty fucking daring, Cher.”

“Only risks that are worth it, though.” He pretended not to see the two older ‘joys exchange glances. 

-

True to their predictions, the rebellion grew. Their radio was a contributing factor, Cherri hoped. It certainly seemed to have grown in popularity as more killjoys entered the desert and more neutrals lay down their peaceful ways and took up arms alongside the killjoys. WKIL was something whispered about in killjoy circles, told to the newbies, the undergrads of the desert.

Cherri knew because he was the one who went and talked with them, the lesser-known face. Everyone recognized at very least the voices of D and Lily by now, the two radio speakers who rallied the rebels, but Cherri Cola was not a name whispered in legend yet. He was just a sixteen year old with a shitty ray gun and a bad haircut, which had advantages and disadvantages. 

One of the advantages was the ability to go talk to random people and be seen as relatively harmless, just a teen with a bright pink mask. There was nothing about him to suggest that he was an incredible shot with a ray gun or a dangerous fighter, not in the slightest. He wore oversized clothes and perpetually looked disheveled, so he had been told. And if you didn’t look too closely at his eyes, you wouldn’t even see the fire in them. 

So Cherri used that hidden advantage, appearing perfectly harmless to anyone who didn’t know him well. It was helpful for White Lily and Dr. Death Defying, since neither of them could go anywhere where there were a lot of rebels without being recognized.

And the rebellion grew and grew. Their voices were growing louder, their colors brighter even as Better Living Industries tried to squash them down. The spirit of the desert truly was rising, and a faint sense of hope had started to permeate the air. White Lily never promised that they would win. But she promised that Better Living Industries wouldn’t, so long as a single killjoy stood, and that was enough for most of the desert. 

They were teenagers, mainly. The bulk of the force that was forming the current rebellion was either teenagers, running from their pasts in Battery City, or twenty-something former soldiers of the Helium Wars, running from what they had done or trying to put it right. They were young and invincible, so it seemed. The reality that they could easily die doing this hadn’t sunk in for most of the younger population of the desert, intoxicated on freedom and the thrill of the desert.

D and Lily knew that reality all too well, Cherri knew. He knew they knew what all of them were up against, had watched death in their own right in the Helium Wars, had wrought it with their own hands. 

He knew what the consequences were too, a memory of bli employees in clean white suits coming to respectfully ‘recruit’ the person he loved most hovering behind a door in his mind. That door would remain closed, Cherri had decided. The past was the past- but he fought because of it anyways, knowing the horrors Better Living Industries had done.

Cherri might have been young, but he was no fool. He knew quite well that he could die, and he couldn’t be bothered to give a fuck, as Lily would put it. There were things more important than living to some grand old age, and this rebellion was one of them.

He would be lying to himself if he said that some part of him wasn’t in this for revenge, maybe a larger part than he was willing to admit. 

“If you take away someone’s world, they might just burn yours down,” Cherri muttered to himself, aiming his shitty old ray gun at the empty cans Lily had set up that day. Despite how long he had already been out here, they still hadn’t managed to locate him a better weapon. That was fine, he thought, he was deadly enough even without one, but D and Lily both insisted that it would be a lot easier for him with something that wasn’t outdated by at least three years. 

“What?” Cherri jumped as D came to stand next to him, aiming his own black and blue ray gun at the cans. “Did you say something, Cherri?”

“Oh, uh. Nothing.”

D shrugged, tilting his head to take aim. “You don’t have to tell me, I just figured I’d ask in case you were trying to tell me something.”

Cherri lowered his ray gun, glancing down. “I said if you take away someone’s world, they might just burn yours down.”

“Ah. True, and insightful.” Cherri didn’t have to glance over at D to know his face would be gently concerned. “Somewhat dark though, you could say.”

“Guess so.”

They were silent for a moment, apart from the zap of ray guns.

“Pasts are something to be forgotten here,” D said finally. “But if you need someone to talk to about yours, Lily and I will support you.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it, you know.”

Cherri fiddled with his ray gun. “Yeah.”

“Just putting that out there.” D turned back to their target practice.

- 

Despite D’s words, there was a silent agreement amongst the three of them that pasts were not to be spoken of or asked about. Occasionally, D or Lily would tell a few stories, mainly from their childhood. They rarely talked about the Helium Wars, only occasionally with each other. And Cherri said nothing about his past. Instead, he pretended not to notice the days when the other two flinched at any loud sound, and they pretended not to hear him cry out in the night, when everything was silent and there was no buffer against the memories. It was a courtesy more than anything, a way to keep each other from having to speak about their darkest times. Usually, Cherri appreciated that, finding it easier to deal with any hurt alone than worry about burdening the others.

Tonight, however, was different. No matter how much he tried to calm himself down, his breath kept coming too quickly and he couldn’t drown out the voices of his past. Worthless, never going to amount to anything…should be more like Samantha…your grades are slipping again…never going to be a boy…

Cherri shivered violently, even though the blanket was tucked safely over him, and climbed off the window seat he had been using as a sort of bed, picking up said blanket. It was cold in the desert at night, no use leaving it behind. 

It took him more rests of leaning against the wall and trying frantically to draw a single breath than he wanted to admit before he was down the hall to the room D and Lily had claimed. Their door was cracked open, but Cherri pushed it open a little bit further to see both of them seemingly sleeping peacefully as he stood in the doorway.

“Cher?” That was White Lily, lifting her head a bit from the mattress. “Everything okay?”

He managed to shake his head, and she gestured for him to come sit. 

“What’s going on, friendo?”

“Bad dream,” Cherri whispered.

“Ah. Those are no fun. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Lily nodded as if to say that didn’t surprise her, and she looked dreadfully like someone he used to know in that moment. “Come on then, lay on down. D won’t mind if you elbow him, he gets up at ass o’clock in the morning anyways.”

Cherri was quite certain D would, in fact, mind, but he did as she asked anyways, settling down on the creaky mattress. Lily put her arm out in what was clearly an offer, but didn’t touch him until he rolled over towards her. When he did, she wrapped her arm around him fully, pulling him closer, and Cherri felt like he could breathe for the first time since waking up. 

Lily didn’t say ‘I love you’ or anything of the sort, but she did ruffle his hair and give him a quiet “Goodnight, Cher.”

And Cherri didn’t say ‘I love you’ either, but he leaned into her embrace. “Goodnight, Lily.”

-

True to Lily’s words, it was, in fact, what Cherri would qualify as ‘ass o’clock in the morning’ when D woke up and proceeded to wake the other two up while getting out of bed.

“Is it even light out?” Cherri questioned as Lily gave a massive yawn.

“No, which is why D’s being an asshole.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up, Lil. Or you, Cherri.” He didn’t question why Cherri was there, much to Cherri’s relief.

“You did anyways,” Lily grumbled, but she released Cherri and sat up. “I guess it would be time to get up soon anyways.”

“Exactly,” D huffed.

Lily just yawn-laughed as she got up, and Cherri reluctantly followed the others downstairs. They had quick breakfast in the predawn light, followed by a bit of fussing around as they got ready for D’s morning broadcast, organizing all the news and things that had come in yesterday. Killjoys had started to send them news of the desert, to the point where they got almost as much from what people sent in/dropped off/radioed to them as what Cherri found out on his almost daily runs. It was starting to pass what he could find out on daily runs, really. But he went anyways because they still needed his info, and they needed to eat.

“Bye, Lily, D!” 

“See you, Cherri,” Lily hollered back. “Be careful!”

“I will!”

The three of them split the tasks that living in the desert and running a radio station required. Today, D and Lily were taking the radio station van to drive around and talk to people, encourage them to join the cause. Cherri was taking the motorcycle to get any news and see if he couldn’t grab some power pup from a supply truck.

He sped down the road, getting in position to raid the supply truck. A one-killjoy raid was a dumb idea, for sure, but Better Living Industries hadn’t started to arm their trucks very heavily yet, and Cherri was confident enough in his ability to think he could pull it off. This was a small one, anyways. The initial raid went off without a hitch- the driver and few accompanying dracs were dead before they had time to see the teenage killjoy who hurried down from the dune to pull out as much of the contents of the truck as would fit in the sidecar of the motorbike. It was afterwards that became the problem, as a full two cars of bli employees came rushing towards the site.

“Fuck,” Cherri hissed under his breath. He quickly assessed his odds. One teenager with a shitty ray gun and a motorcycle against what must be at least one scarecrow and probably at least eight dracs was not good odds, but he doubted running away would be any better. They would chase him down, and then he wouldn’t even have the advantage of his higher vantage point. Hiding wasn’t an option either, given that dracs would search the entire area, so Cherri crouched behind the motorcycle and got ready to fire.

When the first person hopped out of the car, Cherri almost swore out loud. Not a scarecrow. An exterminator. He was so fucked. 

Cherri’s hands shook slightly as he lifted the ray gun and aimed. He had to take down that exterminator as soon as possible, or he was dead. The shakiness proved his undoing, as the shot whistled past the exterminator, missing by barely half an inch and causing the Better Living operative to turn.

Fuck it. Cherri got out from behind the motorcycle and ran directly towards them, firing off shots indiscriminately. His best shot now was to overwhelm and confuse them. It seemed to be working, given that one thing they did not expect was a teenager in a bright pink mask to come running directly at them. In fact, most of the dracs froze, enough that he was able to get in a few good shots before they realized what was happening. One shot even hit the exterminator in the shoulder, but unfortunately not their shooting arm, leaving them perfectly capable of raising their gun to retaliate. 

Retaliate they did, and Cherri screamed as a shot hit him in the side. “Fuck! Fuck you!” He was shaking too hard to shoot back as the exterminator held up a hand, quite calmly.

All the dracs stopped, and the exterminator strolled casually towards Cherri. “Greetings, rebel.”

Cherri spit at their feet. 

“Rather rude of you, wasn’t that? I’m tempted to kill you here, you ill-mannered rebel scum.” They reached out and tilted Cherri’s chin up to look them in the eye, letting him see the cold fire that lingered there. 

“Get fucked,” Cherri spat out as they took his ray gun from a shaking hand and tossed it over their shoulder. 

“I do appreciate the suggestion, but I suggest you keep your mouth shut if you want to live.”

Their ray gun was positioned at his neck, and Cherri knew he had a low chance of surviving even a stun shot to that spot at such a close distance.

“I would kill you now, ill-mannered rebel, but I think I’ll let you live for one reason and one reason only- I want you to go to that ‘Doctor D’ and his friend White Lily, and tell them they will not win. We will find the radio station you killjoys speak of, we know your precious leader is hiding out in Zone Four. So go, tell them. And pray you survive that shot.”

They shoved Cherri, and he stumbled away, ignoring the pain in his side as he climbed onto the motorcycle. He revved the engine, throwing it into action and barely caring if some of the supplies fell out of the sidecar. 

The exterminator watched him go with a cruel smile.

#cherri cola #dr. death defying #ttlofk #coming coming home tag #auri writes #ask to tag #white lily #killjoy oc #sometimes a family is a 21 y/o rebellion leader her tired best friend and the feral 16 y/o they picked up along the way

[reynesofcastamere]

Splintered Perspective [β]

(A/N: For reference, any fics I write that aren’t related to my main series will be marked with [ β ] in the title. I may just have to make a masterpost to organize these at some point. Anyway,the prompt for this was: ‘How Rex or some other person from Ahsoka’s past would react to her being enemies with benefits or in a relationship with Maul.’ I decided to go with multiple POVs for the fun of it. And so I didn’t break myself with The Sad. Poor Rex T_T. Perspectives are not in chronological order. Mentions of past Ahsoka/Barriss. Warnings for dehumanization, mentions of torture, death, violence, some ableism and possible misogyny.(Maybe? Your mileage may vary.) Unbeta’d.  ) Being one with the Force is...not exactly what she had been taught to expect. Barriss Offee is part of everything, all at once. Those in the Light, living and dead, she is all of them, and yet still herself, in a manner of speaking . Time is no longer such a rigid concept, nor is there any particular sense of urgency. What has happened was meant to be, and the future...Is forever shifting, ripples overlapping in a still pool. Which is why it comes as such a surprise when she can feel Master Plo’s disapproval like a storm on the edge of breaking. At first, she cannot determine what has woken his ire, but slowly the images come into focus. Ahsoka.

Barriss no longer possesses a heart, and yet she cannot deny the lance of bittersweet pain through her chest. There is relief that her friend is still alive, but also regret and something bordering on envy. A feeling that only sharpens when she notices the tattooed Zabrak that Ahsoka currently has pinned down. Wait. She knows him. Not personally, but...He is a Sith, a murderer, a monster. Why is Ahsoka-brash, kind, clever person that she is- smiling at him?  It is possible that she is misinterpreting this. Both of them appear rather bruised and a touch bloody, and the lack of lightsabres doesn’t mean-She misses the words exchanged between the pair of them, but...The kiss is unmistakeably passionate, bordering on obscene as the Force crackles around them. Somehow, this is not the worst of it. When they part for air, there is a...look, shared between their eyes, and Barriss experiences true dread. Long ago, she and Ahsoka had-been close. Intimately so. As much as anyone could be, following the Order’s mandate that attachment was forbidden. She’d harboured dreams then, of maybe and one day...But no. Too much had happened, and her rosy illusions had been cruelly shattered. Somehow, watching this unfold hurts worse. Because there is something genuine beneath the crude physical attraction on display. Master Plo does not say a word, but his righteous indignation is so strong that it is a miracle he does not physically manifest in front of them.

Her dearest companion does not belong in the Dark, with this...creature trapping her in his coils, dripping venom into her thoughts. Barriss can only hope Ahsoka will extricate herself before it is too late.

=====

The failed apprentice. A wretched vermin who simply refuses to die. Not for much longer. Darth Vader’s gaze narrows as he reviews the incident reports. A decade of nothing but the occasional annoyance and whispers from the dregs of the galaxy, and only now does Maul scurry out from beneath whatever rock he has been sheltering under. Why? There is no grand plan, no great advantage in breaking into an Imperial prison. Especially one that contains such...unimportant occupants. Then again...The swathe of carnage and destruction left behind had been almost a direct path between the Dathomirian’s entry point and the interrogation chambers. Not a calculated assault, but an act of rage and desperation. Vader had felt it at the time, how the Dark Side had howled and torn at itself like a half-crazed beast. And then there was the fate of the interrogator: Hands cut off, abdominal perforation, shattered jaw,and eyes torn from their sockets. He had suffered a great deal, however briefly. As for the prisoner with him- Records list a female Togruta, mid-to-late twenties, with blue eyes and orange skin. Possibly Force sensitive, but difficult to determine due to her physical state upon capture. The prisoner hadn’t been in possession of anything resembling lightsabres, but had been carrying a wealth of assorted small armaments. It couldn’t be. She died back when...We found her sabres among the graves. Anakin Skywalker is long dead, but sometimes his ghost is loud enough to be heard over the multitudes that inhabit Vader’s hulking, monstrous shell.

Graves required someone to dig them first. Which meant that either some unknown individuals had come along and taken pity on a multitude of strangers...Or that the survivours had done the work themselves. Yet, if Ahsoka Tano lives, and was temporarily imprisoned, it still does not explain the identity or methods of her unlikely rescuer. She was sent to capture him on Mandalore, why would Snips-? Why did she leave us? We needed her when Padme- The room around him warps and buckles in a single, furious moment of clarity. She chose that...animal. That thing, Oh, but she’d been richly rewarded, hadn’t she? One only had to look at the risks her...protector had taken just to secure her freedom. Approval and utter disgust war within him as he rises. So be it. Sentiment has already destroyed them, and it will be his pleasure to finish a task that should have been resolved long ago. Traitors to the Empire must all be purged.

===== Rex should probably be angry. Ahsoka is certainly looking at him like a shiny expecting a stern lecture for breaking regs. Instead he just feels...tired. He can’t be mad at her, not really. Maybe if he’d stuck around longer or managed to make contact more often, this wouldn’t have happened. Or maybe it would have. Maker knows his trio of Jedi could never stay out of trouble for long, and that war makes for strange alliances and even stranger...pairings.  Still, he has to ask, because he knows her, knows the depths of love and compassion that make her who she is, beneath the layers of soldier and spy.

“Is it serious?” Ahsoka fidgets with her lekku a bit. “I don’t know.” A long pause as she inhales. “It keeps happening, and...I want to murder him half the time, Rex. The problem is that he likes it.” The expression on her face perfectly sums up her opinion on that little tidbit of info. He might have laughed, under different circumstances. Instead, he takes her hands in his. “We’ve known each other for a long time. I might not understand why you’re doing this, or how it works-” He absolutely does not need to know the mechanics, as there are not enough drugs or alcohol in the galaxy to purge the associated mental images. “-but I trust your judgement. And your ability to slice his horns off and hang him from his ears over a pit of rathtars if he pushes you too far.” Rex grins, silently offering to be her backup should that ever happen. Kind of a surprise it hasn’t already, since Maul never karking shuts up and Ahsoka’s patience has a set limit for windbags. Her eyes are wet when she hugs him tightly. “You’ll be the first person I call, Captain. And I’m sorry.” He knows she’s not just apologizing for this, not with their history. “I’m sorry too, Commander.” Rex murmurs, hugging her back. They can stay like this for a while longer. Her superiors are just going to have to wait. He might not be such a ‘good’ soldier anymore, but he knows damned well how to be a good friend. And that’s what they both need, more than anything. People that will survive the disaster long enough to see it end, and come out smiling.

=====

“When I warned that you might be tempted by the Dark Side, I did not expect it to be quite so literal.”

“Master.” “Then again, I suppose there is a certain appeal. Ventress was certainly a...passionate opponent. Lovely sense of humour, too. I suppose you don’t get much of that with your-No, I suppose you are the better half in this equation.” “Master Kenobi.” “Come now, we haven’t spoken in ages, surely you can indulge your grand-master’s curiousity.” “You did not break comm silence after years of letting everyone think you were dead just to call me about my sex life.” “Well, no, but it is an unexpected bonus. How does that work, exactly?” “It sounds like you’re angling for a demonstration.” “Oh Maker, no. I’m not that eager to find out.” “Good, because I don’t particularly feel like dealing with him if he decides to drop everything just to hunt you down.” “Ah. He’s...still upset about that, is he?” “You have no idea.” “Well then. To business. And Ahsoka?” “Yes, Master?” “It is good to hear your voice again. Do take care of yourselves.” “You too, Master Kenobi. And don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

“One last question: When should I expect great-grand-padawans?”

“OBI-WAN!!!!” (A/N: Yes, I had to end with levity. Especially considering the characters involved. To clarify, Anakin isn’t upset because he has any sort of romantic inclination towards Ahsoka. It’s general Darksider possessiveness/jealousy mixed in with a lot of anger and some guilt. Looking after Ahsoka’s wellbeing was ‘his’ job, so far as he’s concerned. And now it’s apparently been usurped by That One Asshole. Also, if anyone’s going to recognize that level of...obsessive regard, it’s gonna be the OG Skywalker Drama King. Many thanks to the anonymous person who requested this, both for the prompt and your compliments. Cheers!) 

#maulsoka #Plo Koon Greatly Disapproves of Maul's BS #sadly Bariss and the Seventh Sister are not the same person #that would have been tragically awesome though #Rex is The BestTM #Obi-Wan has to joke about this in order to avoid Trauma #And possibly a heart attack #Anakin is very salty but also missing the point