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theluckywizard · 6 months

Note

happy fridayyyy lucky! how about “Pretending to be happy is exhausting.” for Rose??

Ohhh thanks, Niri! I'm using this one for the opener of my cracky fluff smut fic where Garrett Hawke and Rose Trevelyan are fixed up by their enterprising mothers. This would be 'Chapter 1'.

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 1273

Rating: Gen

Summary: Alsatia Trevelyan wants her daughter to marry. Her friend Leandra Hawke wants to see her son happily settled. Neither Rose nor Hawke are interested in being matched. :smirkyyyy:

Chapter 1

Rose Trevelyan fidgets inside the prison of a gown her mother Alsatia’s selected for her, her stay poking her with a sort of punishing savagery. It’s a nice color at least, Maker knows she’s made some horrific choices in past for these sorts of things: constructions in wildly patterned puce and umber that call up visions of drapery from the last age. Even her fiery red hair is tugged and combed and pinned into a coif as staid as the gown— pinched and proper, every bit of herself smoothed away under a polished veneer.

Kirkwall imposes itself upon the pair as they lean to look out the carriage. Ancient Tevinter statues that evoke a brutal history, monolithic buildings that climb high from the Waking Sea which sloshes in filthy hues from the refuse and sewage that spills into it. The carriage winds slowly from the docks up through the undesirable parts of the city, teeming with too many people who watch the carriage ascend toward Hightown with derision.

“I wish they would hurry up,” mutters Alsatia, fiddling with her delicate kidskin gloves anxiously.

“Oh I’m sorry, Mother, are the unwashed masses making you nervous?” asks Rose. “Didn’t you tell me that Leandra lived in these parts before her son restored her fortunes?”

“Well it’s not as though she wanted to be down here any more than I do,” retorts Alsatia.

“And wasn’t she a Blight refugee? From a humble life in Ferelden she chose for herself? I’m amazed you ever managed to become friends in the first place.”

“Hush, Rose,” says the elder Trevelyan, drawing her furs tighter around her neck.

“It’s true. You can be an unbelievable snob,” presses Rose. “But maybe you weren’t so stuffy back in the day.”

“Polish up that mouth of yours,” she warns her.

“Or what? He won’t make me an ill-fated offer of marriage?” she asks. Alsatia’s frosty eyes land on her daughter’s with a determination that matches her daughter’s flippant resistance. “Truly though. Isn’t he some sort of swashbuckling treasure hunter? I’d be amazed if he cared.”

“He’s richer than the Maker and an Amell and you will do your best to make a favorable impression.”

“I thought he was a Hawke.”

“The name doesn’t matter as much as the lineage.”

Rose slumps back and huffs a sigh. Aside from Alsatia’s industrious pursuit of an advantageous match for her daughter, she knows it’s all a clever plot to avoid her father’s family who descends upon Swinley House each Satinalia and treats her low born mother with thinly veiled contempt. This time Rose is to be introduced to the son of her old friend Leandra Amell, who famously absconded to Fereldan with an apostate mage. The upper crust never forgets these sorts of things. Rose certainly knows that.

Rose has no illusions about her own dwindling appeal. A whole twenty five years old, with a catastrophic flop of an engagement that rocked the Marcher aristocracy under her belt and a handful of rejected marriage offers that trail behind her like a foul stench. And now she’s being fixed up with a Fereldan man rumored to be as wild as he is handsome and as ill-bred as he is rich.

“You will take this seriously, Rose. I know you are not keen on the cloister. You’d have security. A good home. Maker knows Leandra would dote on you.”

Rose snorts to herself. Together they’d make one proper noble.

Not to mention the obvious mage blood he must carry. Perhaps they can bond over that mark against them.

“Mother. I know.”

“I’ll never understand why you fight this so hard. It certainly doesn’t help that your father indulges you with that bow. You're becoming coarse around the edges.”

“I just want to be my own woman. In my own home. I don’t want to have to pretend. It’s exhausting. Sod it all.”

“You’ve always been hopelessly idealistic,” mutters Alsatia, glancing out the window, her breath fogging against the glass even in the mild Kirkwall winter. “It looks like we’re nearly there. The views from up here are rather breathtaking, don’t you think? And Hightown. It looks as fine as it ever did.”

Rose cranes to look, the views across the harbor between pristine marble buildings rather divine considering.

And at least she’s getting out of Ostwick.

oOo

Hawke pulls on the warm wool doublet his mother Leandra’s had fitted for him, admiring how well it looks in the mirror. A deep blue gray that complements his sky colored eyes. Maybe he’d wear it around town. He’s quite pleased with it, really. At least until he notices the geometric lines of the Amell crest embossed into each leather fastening.

“You really have a thing about this crest, don’t you?” he notes, looking over his shoulder at his mother who squeezes both his arms and tucks her chin around him.

“I do,” says Leandra, gazing up at her son in the mirror. “And you should too. It’s yours as well.”

He feels a hand ruffling in the shaggy chestnut colored hair behind his ears.

“You should have trimmed this mess before today,” she scolds him.

“I’ll tie it back if you want. But I’m sure they expect me to be a slobbering dog lord. I doubt a proper hair cut would change their opinion,” says Hawke. “And no offense, Mother, but the Marcher aristocracy is nothing short of a horror show. I’d take an Orlesian noble over a Marcher. Then at least she’d bitch about my ill-breeding in a gorgeous language I can pretend I don’t understand.”

Leandra eyes her son sternly for approximately two seconds before it fails against the affection that surges from behind it.

“They will be staying with us. You will be on your best behavior, darling,” she says. “You’re twenty-nine now. I won’t always be around to take care of you— and I want to see you settled.”

“Tell me again how you met the love of your life through formal introductions with the offspring of your parents’ noble acquaintances,” says Hawke, he turns and kisses his mother on the top of her head easily. “Oh that’s right. You were sneaking around Kirkwall with an apostate mage claiming your funny business behind your parents’ backs. Wasn't I conceived before you got hitched?”

Leandra evades his impertinence.

“I don’t ask what you do on your own time, Garrett, darling. But I’ve seen you fritter away years pining for Aveline. She’s a dear sweet girl, but if it were meant to be—”

“Don’t. You’ll start sounding like Varric.”

The truth of the matter twists inside him like he hasn’t already started to come to grips with it. Maybe if he hadn’t had that dream once he wouldn’t have been so inclined to like her— to believe she meant something.

“Humor me. If you don’t like her, no harm done. At the very least it will be lovely to have company this Satinalia. So it’s not so empty.”

He can’t argue with this. Truthfully the mansion’s felt a bit like a monstrosity since he purchased the deed. He’s taken on Orana and Bodahn and Sandal and yet the quiet is practically deafening in the absence of Carver and Bethany’s bickering and banter. Maker he missed them.

“So what’s she like, this Rose Trevelyan?” he asks.

“She’s an accomplished lutist and harpist. Well-educated in history and politics. Speaks Orlesian and Antivan—“

Hawke drops his head to the side chidingly.

“That doesn’t tell me anything. What’s she like?”

Leandra’s expression in so inscrutable that he feels sure there’s some defect of character that his mother worries over. Either something she knows he’ll hate or something she knows the aristocracy hates.

“Mother… what’s wrong with her?”

“It’s hard for me to say as I had it from Alsatia herself. Suffice to say my friend is worried her daughter will never find a suitable match for her.”

“She’s one of those poor women then? Passed over for others time and again?”

“Actually quite the opposite. She seems to reject everyone.”

“Well that should make this easy then!” he cries, delighted to be free.

“Garrett.”

“Mother.”

“Try. I see the way you pretend to be happy for me. I want you to be happy.”

“I think it’s darling that you think marriage is going to solve that. But don’t you worry,” he says, bending to squash his mother against him inside his substantial arms. “I promise. If she can keep up with me, I’ll marry her.”

“Not even your friends can keep up with you.”

“Exactly!”

#Matchmaking AU #Garrett Hawke x Rose Trevelyan #theluckywizard #Hawke x Trevelyan #warrior!hawke #blue-purple hawke #parental matchmaking #neither of them want to get hitched #oh no!

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vertraymer · 1 year

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es pan comico

Falling in love wasn't part of the plan.

Read it here or here.

Yes, it's part of a series and there is more Hyacinth and Gareth chaos to come.

#bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton books #bridgerton fic #bridgerton #it's in his kiss #hyareth #hyareth ff #hyacinth x gareth #gareth x hyacinth #gareth st clair #hyacinth bridgerton #bridgerton modern au #matchmaking au

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hairmetal666 · 4 months

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Eddie's a mechanic, has a shop in Indy. It's only got two bays, but he owns it, he saved up the money, it's his. He runs it with Wayne, is building up a customer base. He loves it.

Within the year, a bakery opens up next door, separated from Eddie's shop by a narrow alley. He has a perfect view into the bakery's kitchen from the shop's office, and almost immediately catches a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous guy behind the mixing bowl. He's got sun-golden skin, swoopy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, the poutiest mouth, and a face dotted with freckles. Eddie gapes at him for a solid two-minutes, salivating over the bunch and pull of his muscles as he kneads a ball of dough. A wet dream come true.

Eddie's always sneaking glances at the shop next door, can't seem to keep his gaze off the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Over the next few months, he becomes familiar with this herd of kids that hang around the bakery at all hours. There's one, curly-haired and mouthy, who often makes the baker frown with his hands on his hips, but as soon as the boy walks away, the baker smiles all wide and fond.

It's a silly crush, no big deal. He has a weakness for brown-eyed pretty boys, so what? It's not like he's going to do anything crazy, like make a move.

It's past midnight, a few months after the bakery opens, and Eddie's in his little office, doing the monthly accounting. He's exhausted, tired of calculators and numbers, when a flash of light catches at the corner of his eye. He blinks a few times, sure it's the exhaustion setting in, but it doesn't go away.

Instead, there's a light on over at the bakery. It's a kitchen light, and the baker is standing at the stainless steel counter, looking unlike Eddie's ever seen. His hair is a soft wave, swooping onto his forehead. He wears grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt. Tonight, his movements are less precise and practiced; he's slow and contemplative as he gathers ingredients and mixing bowls.

It's been long enough Eddie should look away, but he forgets that it isn't a dream, that he's actually watching the baker roll up his sleeves as he whisks. It's inevitable that, eventually, the baker catches Eddie staring. He just smiles, though, and waves. Eddie manages to return the greeting before awareness smacks him in the face, and he flees the office and the building in acute embarrassment.

They share waves after that. Smiles. Laughter once when Eddie's reading over an invoice and walking, smacks face-first into the doorframe. Eye rolls after the baker gets into an impassioned argument with the curly-haired boy, one that involves a copious amount of thrown flour.

They exchange waves and smiles and goofy expressions, and it shouldn't escalate further, but one day Eddie steps into the shop's waiting room to find the curly-haired boy sitting behind the reception desk, flipping through Eddie's new dnd guide.

"What." Eddie says.

"You," says the boy. He's pointing and glaring and Eddie is a little scared.

"Me?"

"You like dnd?"

He hopes his sigh of relief isn't audible. "Best DM this town has ever seen." He postures and smirks.

"Doubt it," the boy says.

Eddie lets out an offended squeak, dramatically smashes his hand over his heart. "Insulted! Maligned! In my own place of business! Oh!" He falls into a dramatic swoon.

The boy snickers. "I'm Dustin," he says.

"Eddie." They shake hands and Eddie does not laugh at how overly serious this is all is. "Sir Dustin, what brings you to my fine establishment?"

Dustin shrugs. "Steve."

"Steve?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "The bakery."

"Oh," Eddie says. Steve. The baker is Steve.

He's having a little trouble breathing, sure he's done something wrong, a distinct feeling of doom settling on his shoulders. "Why?"

"He won't stop talking about the mechanic next door but refuses to introduce himself. Plus, I saw your D20 tattoo the other day."

Eddie's barely hearing him, reeling over the knowledge that Steve talks about him to his gaggle of children. He barely hears the rest of the conversation, but the next day Dustin shows up with the rest of the kids, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, Erica, Will.

They're loud, chaotic, wild, and somehow--before they leave--they've coerced him into running a one-shot for them. They come by in twos and threes for the rest of the week, eating all the snacks in the waiting room mini-fridge and talking at him and Wayne as they work.

It's Friday, it's sweltering, he's closing the shop for the night with the top of his coveralls hanging off hips, his sweat soaked undershirt tossed behind a tool chest. He steps into the waiting area and nearly jumps out of his skin to find a man there, holding a plastic container.

Steve.

"H--hi," he stutters. And fuck, he's shirtless. He's standing in front of Steve for the first time and his nipples are out. This is it, the moment he finally dies of embarrassment.

Steve's eyes are locked on Eddie's torso for a few seconds too long, cheeks flushing. He blinks, finally looking at Eddie's face. "I'm Steve. From the--the bakery next door?" He points. "I--uh--I wanted to stop by and apologize?"

"What?" Eddie asks. There's too much happening for him to keep up.

"Um, the kids?"

And Eddie can't fathom why he needs to apologize, can only stare at Steve in confused disbelief.

"It's just. They can be kind of a handful. I used to babysit Mike and the whole group of them started following me around, and--Anyway, I think Dustin took it upon himself to try to introduce us. I've been wondering where they keep disappearing off to, and Max told me today that they're here with you, and I thought I probably owed you an apology. You're trying to work and I know they can be a bunch of shitheads, and oh my god, I'm rambling, I really am turning into Robin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie is fucked. Oh he's so fucked. He's charmed, endeared, can't stop smiling at Steve who is somehow even more beautiful up close.

"I forgive you," Eddie says. "They're nice kids."

Steve lets out a hard breath. "They are, huh?" He smiles. "Don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get a moment's peace. And they shouldn't have been over here bothering you, anyway."

"It wasn't a bother. Though, they did eat all my snacks and swindle me into running a one-shot for them. Still not sure how that happened."

Steve laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corner. So fucked. So fucked. "I should've known that you play that game of theirs."

"Aw, not a dnd fan, Stevie?"

Steve blushes. "It's--there's a lot of math."

Eddie laughs, already knows he's never getting over this one. "You bake professionally."

"It's different?" Steve laughs. "Fine, fine! You got me, it's not my thing."

"Bet I could change your mind," Eddie says. He doesn't mean to be flirting, can't stop himself.

"I bet you could," Steve agrees. He moves his hand, like maybe he's going to run it through his swoop of hair, then seems to remember he's holding baked goods. "Oh, uh, please take these cupcakes as my apology for accidentally saddling you with my group of semi-feral children."

"You're already forgiven, but I'll never say no to a cupcake."

"You should stop by the shop tomorrow, then" Steve says. "On the house."

"You've already given me these." He wiggles the cupcakes in Steve's pretty face.

"I only save the free samples for the hottest customers." Steve does run a hand through his hair now, and it's dorky as fuck, but Eddie still feels like he's died and this is heaven. "See you tomorrow?"

Eddie can only nod as Steve backs out of the office with a cheeky little wave.

He goes to the bakery the next day, sure he just let his crush get away from him and imagined the entire interaction with Steve. Except, when he walks in, Steve smiles all big and pretty in his little blue apron, invites Eddie back to the kitchen.

And if they share their first kiss against the stainless steel countertops, it's between them, Wayne, and all the kids who spy on them from the shop's office window.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #mechanic eddie munson #baker steve harrington #ficlet #fluff #meet cute #mutual pining #matchmaker dustin henderson #longing glances #dustin is sick of hearing steve talk about the hot mechanic next door but never making a move #dustin makes it for him #the party are a bunch of well-meaning menances #for some reason insomnia is an intrinsic part of steve's character even in an au

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steviesbicrisis · 1 year

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Prologue

Gareth is in charge of the Corroded Coffin official TikTok account, he's playing Fuck Marry Kill with the three random celebrities filters and trying to make the other guys join as well.

When it's Eddie's turn, he's having none of it until he sees the three celebrities on top of his head.

He has no clue who these people are, but the one in the middle? Eddie is sure he's going to marry him someday.

Eddie has yet to find out that the guy is none other than baseball player Steve Harrington, 1/3 of the "Ladykiller Trio", currently playing for the Yomiuri Giants. In Japan.

And when things get too complicated for Eddie's liking, thankfully he has Gareth on his side.

Gareth the Matchmaker (1/?) - AO3 Next

Original post

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How you can follow this AU:

-Follow my blog, I promise you that when I’m not updating I reblog amazing Steddie content from fellow steddie stans;

-Turn the notifications on for this post;

-Check my pinned post, I have this story linked under “ongoing” content;

-Follow the tags #gareth the matchmaker and #GTM updates;

-Subscribe to the story on AO3 (mind that I might not repost it on AO3 immediately so you might get the notification later than the Tumblr post).

Please let me know if, with these options, you are following the story comfortably. If not, I will resort to going back to the taglist but I wanna avoid it as much as possible!

I'm really excited to be finally sharing this with you, please let me know what you think!

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie smau #smau #gareth the matchmaker #steve x eddie #steve and eddie #stranger things #corroded coffin #corroded coffin au #famous au #baseball player steve #rockstar eddie #platonic stobin #chrissy cunningham #modern au #sbc writes #GTM updates

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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matchmaking gone wrong (steddie)

“So,” Murray says, smarmy little smirk in place. Steve kind of hates him. “How long have you two been dancing around each other?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, now,” he says. “Everyone can see it. Or, well, maybe they can’t, but I can. Small town boys, both fighting against the odds. Alternate dimensions bring people together in the strangest ways, don’t they?”

“Hey, now,” Steve objects, shooting a panicked glance next to him. Eddie hasn’t moved a muscle since Murray opened his big mouth. His pose reminds Steve of a frightened rabbit, frozen in the eye of a snake.

“Hey, now,” Murray mimics. “Real eloquent, Steve.” He says Steve like he’s saying something else. If he’s not careful, Steve is going to punch his fucking teeth in.“I gotta say, when I met you, you managed to take me by surprise. I really thought you were gonna be different. Small town rich boy, right? Big house, no parents, thought I knew the type. But you’ve managed to turn it on its head, haven’t you? Still, you’re lonely. Must be nice, having all those kids in your house. Less empty with them around. And Eddie here, too. I bet it’s real nice with him around.”

“Dude,” Steve says, prickling. He doesn’t know what eloquent means, or what that has to do with anything, but he really does not like what this guy is putting down. What business does this washed up mess of a conspiracy theorist have digging into Steve’s personal life? He chances another look at Eddie, who has unfrozen in favor of straightening up and glaring at Murray.

“What the fuck do you know?” he spits, vicious in the way he only ever is when he’s defending someone. Steve is touched, really.

“I know a lot,” Murray says, smile growing ever wider. “Like that you sleep in his bed, even though there’s…what, three perfectly good guest rooms here?”

“Two,” Steve corrects automatically. “The other one is Max’s.” Unofficially, of course, but she sleeps here enough that everyone else knows she’s claimed it. Technically it’s one and a half, given that Dustin is slowly taking over the one next to hers, but Ms. Henderson is actually responsible so he only stays the night occasionally. Robin just sleeps in Steve’s bed with them.

He realizes his mistake when Murray’s smile grows even wider. “Two!” He exclaims. “Two guest bedrooms, and yet you sleep in his bed, wake up next to him, end up with his pillow lines on your face. I bet it’s nice, huh? To have him soothe your nightmares, to fall asleep knowing he’s there. We like Steve, indeed. How could a man possibly resist? Tell me, Eddie, is that handkerchief in your pocket just for show? I’d have thought masochism was more your style.”

“Hey!” Steve barks. Eddie jumps next to him, and Steve puts his hand over his unthinkingly. Murray’s eyes track the movement, but Steve speaks before he can open his mouth.

“Not cool, man,” he says firmly. Eddie’s hand is trembling under his, and Steve thinks that Murray is lucky that he cares more about comforting Eddie than he does about punching the smug look off his fucking face.

“What’s not cool?” Murray asks. “Telling you two to get your shit together, for the betterment of us all?”

“You barely fucking know us,” Steve snaps. “There’s no ‘betterment of us all,’ Jesus. You can’t just…you can’t…” he lowers his voice, like he can protect Eddie from hearing it if he tries hard enough. “You can’t just out people, man. You should fucking know better.”

Eddie’s frozen again. Steve doesn’t look at him, instead staring Murray down like a challenge. The man does lose steam with that, wilting like a weed in the heat. “Ah,” he says. “I…ah, hell, I thought you knew.”

“What I know doesn’t mean shit if he’s not the one who told me,” Steve says. Eddie makes a sound, slowly sliding his hand out from under Steve’s. Steve lets him, resisting the urge to grab it back. He knows Eddie won’t run away from him, even if he wants to. “And what if you’d been wrong about me being cool, huh? Seriously man, aren’t you supposed to be smart or something? Act like it.”

Murray opens his mouth again, but Eddie interjects. “As fascinating and eye opening as this has been,” he says, clapping his shaking hands together, “I need to be gone, like, before this conversation ever happened. I appreciate your attempt to get me into golden boy’s pants over here, really, but, uh, yeah. I think the whole being straight thing kind of puts a damper on that, don’t you?”

“You’re straight?” Steve blurts out, hurt and embarrassed all at once. Well, shit, there goes whatever Steve thought they were hurtling towards. And after Steve just confessed he thought Eddie was gay. Is that discrimination? He’s going to kill Robin, dammit, she’s the one who pointed out Eddie’s hanky in the first place.

“What?” Eddie asks. “No, you are.”

“I am?”

“Yes!”

“Uh,” Steve says, extremely confused. Is Eddie coming out as straight for him? He’s pretty sure this is supposed to go, like, the opposite way. “Since when?”

“Since—“ Eddie’s mouth drops open. “I thought since always, Harrington, what the fuck?”

“Me what the fuck?” Steve sputters. “You what the fuck! You thought I was straight?”

“Of course I did!” Eddie throws his hands up. “You’re, like, the epitome of straight jock!”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says. “Because my painted nails and affinity for sucking cock scream heterosexual man.”

Affinity might be a stretch given that he’s only ever sucked one dick in his entire life, but hey, a little embellishment never hurts. He wasn’t awful at it. The painted nails weren’t actually his choice, either, thanks to El’s killer puppy eyes, but still. He’s been blatantly flirting with Eddie for months now. Would it kill him to notice?

Eddie doesn’t seem to have a response for this, mouth opening and closing without sound.

“Well,” Murray says at last. Steve and Eddie both jump, having completely forgotten about him. “I guess you needed my help after all.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Steve says, rounding on him. “I don’t need your help for jack-fucking-shit, alright? I am a grown-ass man. I am not repressed, I am not in denial, and I am not thanking you for this. You messed up my plan!”

“Your plan?” Eddie asks.

“Your plan,” Murray repeats, amused.

“Yes, my plan,” he hisses. “You’re not smarter than everyone else just because you don’t like the government, asshole. None of us like the fucking government, we’re just not about to go off the rails and become total shut-ins about it. We fucking get it, you’re lonely and have no friends. We don’t need you to tell us our own business for us, okay? You want to talk about getting help? Go to a fucking AA meeting and leave us alone.”

The skin around Murray’s eyes tightens. Steve might feel bad, if it weren’t for the fact that he’d fucking outed Eddie. Mistake or not, it doesn’t matter that Steve already knew if Eddie wasn’t ready to fucking tell him.

Eddie’s hand on his arm stops him from saying much worse.

He doesn’t turn around, just stares Murray down like a warning. Murray looks back at him, seemingly unimpressed, but Steve can see shame in the line of his shoulders. There’s apology in his eyes when he breaks Steve’s gaze to glance at Eddie.

He’s not a bad guy, Steve knows. Joyce tells them fondly about how he helped her and Hopper get their shit together. How they’d both be Russian chow ten times over if it wasn’t for him. Nancy, too, has some good things to say about the guy. He was the one who helped her get word out about Barb’s death. He helped her get with Jonathan too, even if that didn’t exactly work out.

And it’s not like he blames Murray for Nancy cheating on him. She’s her own person, and makes her own decisions, even if they’re shitty, hurtful ones that he’s still not sure he’ll ever fully get over.

Jonathan said it best, once. He’s weird, and nosy, and annoying, and I don’t really like him. But I think he really just wants to help, in any way he can. Plus he’s a really good cook.

Steve breaks.

“Just get out of my house, man,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Joyce will be happy to host you for the night, they’ve got a spare room there. Tell her my house was too ‘rich kid’ for you, or something. But you’re not staying here anymore.”

Murray nods, accepting this at face value. He gets up from the table, pausing to snag the vodka. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” he offers, and disappears before either of them can reply.

“So,” Eddie says, after a considerable length of silence. His voice shakes slightly. “That was, uh, enlightening.”

He huffs a tired laugh. “That’s one word for it,” he says, finally turning to look Eddie in the eye. He’s shifty, eyes flitting around the room, hands playing out guitar chords against the counter. Steve takes one in hand.

Eddie stills, finally looking at his face. Steve won’t force eye contact, but he needs to know Eddie’s focusing on him and not whatever shitty thoughts are flying across his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he offers quietly. “I didn’t know he’d try that shit with us, when I told Hopper he could stay here.”

Eddie resumes his finger chords. “It’s not your fault he’s an asshole.”

“I know,” he says. “Still, that wasn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“Go? ‘Go’ what? What’s going?”

Steve shuts his eyes. “Us. I wasn’t going to say anything yet. Not until after you told me you were…”

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “Right.”

“Yeah.”

“I can get out of your hair, man, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“What?” Steve‘s eyes fly open. “No! I’m not kicking you out, what the fuck?”

“You’re not?”

“Literally what part of that conversation made you think that’s where this was headed?” He demands.

“I dunno, man,” Eddie confesses. “Good things don’t really happen to people like me.”

“And I’m a good thing?” Steve tries to joke, raising an eyebrow.

Eddie doesn’t take the bait, just briefly meets Steve’s eyes and lowers his voice. “Steve, you’re, uh. You’re kind of one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

“Oh,” falls weakly from his lips.

“Shit, was that too much? That was totally too much, sorry, I’m not good at this. You can totally kick me out now, fuck, that’s so embarrassing—“

Steve kisses him.

“Honestly, I’m not that worried about it,” Eddie says, laying with his feet on Steve’s pillow and head hanging off the bed.

“Really?”

“I mean, like, it was a dick thing to do, but what’s he gonna do? Tell the whole town? They all know about me anyway.”

Steve kind of shrugs at this, because as much as he wishes it weren’t true he’s right. He’s walked past fag sharpied on Eddie’s locker enough times to know that unlike Steve, he never really had the luxury of hiding it.

“People always just knew,” he tells Steve. “Don’t know how, don't know why. I’m not sure I‘ve ever actually come out to anyone except Wayne, and that was more of a bitter, self-loathing explosion than anything. It backfired, obviously. Instead of kicking me out, he told me he loved me and I cried so hard I threw up. Totally embarrassing. But even with Wayne…I didn’t have to. It’s like it was tattooed on my forehead, or something. Too soft, too close with other boys, too obvious. So I leaned into it. Learned to fight, ‘cause getting beat up might end in something worse. Let my freak flag fly, let ‘em focus on the DND and the devil worshiping because somehow that was better than being queer.”

Steve, who’d also known about Eddie long before Eddie had told him, bites his tongue.

“I think he’s safe,” Eddie finishes with a nod. “He really did seem like he wouldn’t have said anything, if he’d known I hadn’t told you. Which is hilarious to me, by the way, because I’d just kind of assumed I didn’t have to so you might have just waited forever. Plus I think he and Hopper have, like, a vibe.”

Steve chokes. “A vibe?”

“They’re not fucking,” he clarifies, “but they have fucked, yanno?”

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“Nah, man. I bet that’s why Hopper asked us to host him, instead of offering up his spare room immediately. Your ex and your new squeeze living together?” He whistles lowly. “Awkward.” “I don’t want to know this,” Steve declares, flipping face first into his pillow. He pushes Eddie’s stinky feet away from his face, ignoring his squawk. “Why would you give me information? Now I have to look Hopper in the eye knowing that his taste in men is Murray.”

#stranger things fanfic #murray bauman #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #implied past murray/hopper because i think it's funny #accidental outing #i like murray matchmaking steddie as much as the rest of them #but occasionally i wonder how it would fit in the time period as two queers instead of 'straight' couples #and my immediate thought was that it would Not Go Well #murray IS obnoxious and i love him for it #matchmaking gone wrong au

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soadscrawl · 1 month

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Draft art model AU anyway, and see if it draws any wild plots out from hiding. I hear they're usually attracted to the scent of drafts and random frameworks, this time of year.

i have been kicking it around in my mind a bit... some silly bs i thought of for it

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hisbucky · 9 months

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Eddie: Morning, sergeant. I'd like to request a few days off. There's a personal conflict I need to resolve. Athena: Does this conflict have to do with you eyeing my eldest son at my barbeque party the whole evening yesterday? Eddie: ...I have the right to remain silent. Athena, eyeroll: Unpaid. Two days. He works at the Children's Hospital, and he doesn't like roses.

#another life!au #au #eddie is an officer #buck is a doctor for kids #buddie #911 show #911 on abc #eddie diaz #athena grant #matchmaker athena #dating the coach's kid #things i want to write #incorrect 911 quotes #incorrect quotes

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rayshippouuchiha · 25 days

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For the one-shot AU where Toshinori set Izuku up with Aizawa.

Yagi: *explaining how he set Izuku and Shouta up to Naomasa* And so I set him up with Young Aizawa. Nao, what are you doing?

Naomasa: *typing up his two weeks notice* I'm moving to somewhere very far away.

Yagi: Young Izuku and Aizaw-

Naomasa: *already packing*

Yagi: *confused goat noises*

Naomasa: Nope nope nope. I plan to be twice retired and hopefully 3 times dead before those two drag me into any of their bullshit shenanigans.

#RayRambles #Matchmaker Matchmaker (Gonna Match Him A Man) AU #BnHA #MHA #AiDeku

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boyfhee · 2 months

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𐙚 MATCHMAKER !

chapter one ⋆ dogs day out

note : i forgot to add but the first six are riki's pov and last 3 are reader's

masterpost / next / previous

LINOTES ⋆ i wish i had a dog ( jay )

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paper-lilypie · 2 years

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guys hear me out

what if red string of fate au except

✨prehensile trickster red string of fate that loves matchmaking and pairing up the absolute ridiculous pairs just for fun✨

(✨and it always works out✨)

which is how you end up irrevocably tied to a machine after a one-off trip to the mall

and how Sun and Moon end up tied to a random shopper just passing by

shenanigans over invisible barriers and confusion ensue

maybe even a lil lovin along the way who knows

✨matchmaking red string of fate✨

#fnaf #sun x reader #moon x reader #like a fucked up cupid situation where every pairing fate ties is for its own entertainment #invisible to the human eye but still meddling #meanwhile Y/N gets this weird pressure in their neck #and Sun and Moon keep tripping up over nothing and feeling their hands get tied together as if by invisible rope the longer time goes by #just #matchmaking red string of fate #red string au #that’s the name now #shshshs #not soulmate au

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ghostofskywalker · 9 months

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Don't Say "I Told You So"

Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Words: 1,739

Summary: Crosshair didn't need a relationship, and he had only agreed to this stupid service because all his brothers had done it as well. But a switch in his mind was flipped when he met you, he just doesn't want to admit it.

Note: this is my contribution to the fanfiction universe of @tcwmatchmakingau :) the canon divergence here is that the empire falls apart in its early days after palpatine bites it, which would still imply that crosshair spent some time in its service. i couldn't decide which clone i wanted to write so i picked six of my faves and rolled a die to decide - crosshair won :)

Clone Troopers Masterlist

“What are you looking to gain from our service today?” The overly bubbly woman asked Crosshair as he sat with his arms crossed in a chair that seemed entirely out of place in a tiny office like this. She was not bothered one bit by the way he so obviously did not want to be there, and there weren’t many people in the galaxy that could look so nonchalant on the receiving end of his annoyed expression.

“To get my brothers off my back,” he answered dryly, watching as she started to type something on her datapad.

“So you’re not looking for anything serious then?”

“What do you think?”

The woman behind the desk (she had introduced herself before, he just forgot her name) looked up at him with a glare that matched his in its intensity, and for a moment the change actually caught him off guard. “I have half a mind right now to set you up with the person I think you would dislike the most and ensure that you have the worst two hours of your life,” she said, her tone sharp and unwavering. “But since I am a professional, I will not do that. However, I expect to be afforded the same courtesy. I have a perfect track record with my matches for this company, but that does not mean I won’t throw it away for the chance to make you miserable, and that is certainly a threat. Do we understand each other?”

A silence fell over the room as her words sunk in. “Fine,” he said, swallowing his pride and allowing her to continue with the matchmaking interview. There was a part of him that wondered if he did indeed have a perfect match out there, even if he was (mostly) here because the rest of his squad had already gone through the process. Because anyone that managed to find someone who could willingly put up with Hunter was clearly some kind of Jedi, and there was another part of him that wanted to be the one to annoy his brothers, just as they had annoyed him with their new partners.

The interview was soon finished, and he left the office wondering what was going to come of all this. The woman (who had reverted back to the insufferably bubbly version of herself from the beginning) told Crosshair that someone would reach out to him with details about his date soon, even though he didn’t know if he believed her. There couldn’t be anyone in their little catalog who would willingly go on a date with him, this had to be some kind of scam.

***

But somehow the unthinkable happened, and from what Echo said when he heard Crosshair had gotten a message, it had happened in record time. And even now, if it weren't for the fact that his brothers were all stationed outside the restaurant, he might have run away before ever stepping foot inside. Wrecked would have simply just picked him up and walked him inside anyway, and that would be ever more embarrassing than simply just accepting his fate and not trying to escape.

He wasn’t given much information about you or the date, other than your first name and the fact that a table had been reserved for you two at a restaurant on the top level of Coruscant. It wasn’t the nicest place in the world, but Crosshair appreciated that there didn’t seem to be an intense pressure to get perfectly dressed up, especially since he only had a limited amount of clothing at this time. He also had a sneaking suspicion that you had picked the spot, because none of the others had ever heard of the place when he told them where he was going.

Despite the fact that he didn’t really think any kind of relationship was going to come from this, he still found himself slightly worried about how you were going to perceive him. Even though the war was over and clones were fully recognized as citizens, it was hard for him to believe that anyone would willing want to go on a date with him. He could understand how his brothers were able to find romance, they weren’t as broken as he was, and they were having a much easier time adjusting to their new lives outside of military service.

When he gave the person standing at the front of the restaurant his name, they smiled and told him to follow, as his date for the evening was already here. He was hoping that he could get by without the staff knowing the true reason he was there, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. The sound of his comm device buzzing caught Crosshair’s attention, and he looked down at his wrist to see a message from Hunter.

Don’t kriff this up.

But of course he didn’t have time to send anything back before he had arrived at his table for the evening. Caught off guard by your beauty, he forgot for a moment that he didn’t reallu want to be there. “Hi,” you greeted him as he sat down. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

There was another version of him vying for control of his body right now, that was cruel and vindictive and could never believe that you were here to see him. And as much as he wished that version of him had died with the Empire, that was simply not the case, and he fought hard to push those thoughts away. Maybe he would never be as bright and as joyful as Wrecker, but you did not deserve to spend time with a sour version of him, especially when none of the issues he had were your fault.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” he said. “Why did you sign up to do this?”

You laughed. “Honestly? My friends pushed me to sign up for an interview.”

“My brothers practically forced me to do this,” he said, watching as a smile crossed your face.

“Wow, I guess we both don’t want to be here, huh?”

Five minutes ago, Crosshair would have earnestly confirmed your statement and suggested that you go your separate ways. But now, he found himself wanting to stay, even though he had no idea how to respond. “I suppose not.”

“But since this meal has already been paid for, I think we should stay.” Thank the Maker for that suggestion.

Of course, he had to keep up appearances. “I’m fine with that.”

As the date continued, conversation moved like one of the Coruscant Guard’s massif puppies: tentative but determined, and the more Crosshair spoke to you, the more he realized how much you complemented each other.

It was so much more complicated than the roles of sun and moon, because neither of you perfectly fit into either image. You had a macabre streak to rival the dry quips he often subjected his brothers to, but there was also a brightness to your personality that he found himself desperate to learn about. As you shared stories about past relationships and told him all about the work you do, he found himself wondering how in Sith Hells it was possible that through one interview (that he didn’t even take seriously) someone had managed to find him someone like you.

The food was certainly a step up from the things he ate during the war, and the two of you indulged in drinks that were brightly colored and sickly sweet. If this was 79’s and his brothers were around, he might have cared about what they would say as they watched him take sips of a lavender colored liquid. But here, the only person whose opinion mattered to him was you, and the way you smiled as you tasted the drink for the first time was something he didn’t want to forget.

When it was time to leave, he waited with you for a hovertaxi and waved you off before heading back to the apartment he now shared with his brothers. It didn’t seem like the rest of the squad had stayed outside the restaurant for the entire night (like they had threatened to do), and Crosshair was glad for the time alone with his thoughts.

He wanted to see you again, that much was certain. The two of you had exchanged comm frequencies, and there were already tentative plans in place for the two of you to see a holofilm together sometimes, but nothing was set in stone. He knew his brothers weren’t going to let him off without interrogating him when he stepped through the doorway, so he also prepared what he was going to say.

And like he expected, Omega was the only one not waiting for him when he opened the door. The rest of the team was sitting at the table, as if they were waiting for him, and the questions began to spill out of his brothers’ mouths.

“How was it?”

“Did you like her?”

“Are you going on another date?”

“We were right, weren’t we?”

Crosshair took a seat at the table and waited for the rapid fire questioning to stop. “It wasn’t terrible.”

Hunter scoffed. “Come on, you’ve got to give us more than that!”

“No, I don’t actually,” he said. “You all forced me to do this and now it’s done.”

Echo spoke next. “At least tell us if you’re going to go out again with her, then we’ll leave you alone.”

Crosshair sighed. He wanted to lie, but he knew that eventually the truth would find a way to worm its way out into the open, and the teasing would be worse then. “Nothing is confirmed, but maybe.”

“YES!”

“I knew it!”

“You all owe me 10 credits now!”

In the midst of his brothers’ joy, the sound of his comm device beeping distracted Crosshair. He looked down to see a message from a new frequency, which he immediately knew must be you.

If you were serious about going to a holofilm, do you want to see one with me tomorrow?

He couldn’t help but smile as he typed out an affirmative reply, and that tiny change in his expression did not go unnoticed by Hunter. “Aww look Echo, Crosshair’s in loooooooove!”

“Shut up,” was the sniper’s response, but he didn’t refute the statement.

Maybe these matchmaker services really did work after all.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#tcw matchmaking au #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x you #crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #clone trooper x reader

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tcwmatchmakingau · 8 months

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Commander Mayday illustration by @nika6q

A Match for Mayday: Chapter 1

Editor's note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)

Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer Reader

Rating: T

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings and tags: fluff

A/N: dedicated to @nika6q ❤️‍🩹

Read Chapter 2 here!

Your sister has always had immaculate taste. From her gorgeous flat in a Coruscant high-rise, to the handsome trooper currently staring down at her with adoration in his soft brown eyes as she wraps her arm around his waist, to the selection of high-quality brews in the conservator which you are currently raiding, she has curated a beautiful life for herself. She’s been your best friend since the day she was born, and you couldn’t be happier for her. You didn’t have an easy childhood, and seeing your little sister settled and thriving is everything you had hoped for her during those difficult days.

Her boyfriend—no, make that fiancé—practically worships her. As you watch them through the sliding glass door, you realize you’ve never seen her look as content as she does in that moment, smiling softly up at Hexx. Unbeknownst to you, an identical smile plays on your own lips as you close the conservator door. Just as you do, a latecomer enters the kitchen, and you turn automatically to greet him, your eyes widening as you take him in.

He’s a clone, but damn, what a clone. He looks older than Hexx and most of his brothers, though that might be due to his beard and longer hair. He’s tall and solidly built, and even in civilian clothing, he looks imposing. His long sleeves are rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle, with a hint of tattoo ink peeking from the edge of the fabric.

“Hello,” you greet him, that soft smile still in place as you introduce yourself.

“Mayday,” he replies, and his voice is deeper and and more gravelly than you’ve heard from other clones. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Up close, you can see faint lines around his eyes, and a sprinkle of silver in his hair. Definitely older than Hexx, then.

“Can I get you a beer?” you offer. “Or are you a whiskey man?”

“A beer sounds great, thanks,” he says, and you hand him the cold bottle you just pulled out of the conservator. His fingers brush against yours, soft and warm, and his eyes follow you as you turn to pull another bottle out of the conservator. “How do you know Hexx and Sunni?”

“Sunni is my sister,” you reply.

“I thought I saw the resemblance,” he says. “Why aren’t you out partying with the others?”

“Just came in for a drink,” you reply. He arches an eyebrow, and you buckle immediately under his unspoken interrogation. “And to hide for a few minutes.”

“Now, why would you want to hide?” he asks, tapping his bottle against yours and taking a long sip.

You shrug. “Not a huge fan of crowds. They make me nervous.”

“You must hate living on Coruscant, then,” he says.

“I would if I lived here,” you reply.

“You’re not local?” he asks, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining the hint of regret in his tone.

“No, I live on Nakadia,” you reply. “I’m only on Corrie for the engagement party.”

“Nakadia?” he asks. “Then you must be the farmer.”

“Yes, I own a flower farm there,” you reply. “How did you know?”

“Hexx told me they were having the wedding at your farm. You’re a brave woman to agree to host that many clones for a party,” he says with a charming smile.

“I’d do anything for Sunni,” you reply. “But I have to admit it’s weird to think that she’s getting married when I still see the adorable little girl with fluffy hair and a face covered in jelly when I look at her.”

“I know the feeling,” Mayday says with an ironic twist of his mouth. “We do what we can for them, but in the end, we have to trust them to know what they’re doing.”

“Hexx seems like a good man,” you say tentatively. “And he makes her happy.”

“Have you known him long?” he asks.

“I’d only spoken to him on holocalls until I got to Corrie three days ago,” you reply. “What about you? Did you serve with him?”

Mayday nods. “I’m his commanding officer, at least for the moment. I can tell you that there’s not a more loyal soldier in the GAR. He’ll take good care of your sister.”

“When you say ‘for the moment,’ what does that mean? Is he being reassigned?” you ask curiously. Sunni hadn’t mentioned it.

“Not to my knowledge,” he replies. “But I am retiring.”

He seems too young to be retiring, but there is a weariness about his eyes that makes you think he’s earned it.

“What will you do then?” you ask, relaxing back against the countertop.

Mayday mimics your laid-back posture, leaning against the wall as he answers. “Haven’t decided yet. I might just spend some time enjoying being the only person in charge of my time.”

“You’re not going to rush down to RTL to find the love of your life?” you ask, a teasing light springing into your eyes.

“Nah, not for me,” he replies. “I’d prefer to meet somebody organically.”

“Understandable,” you reply. “Though it certainly worked out well for Sunni and Hexx.”

“And what about you?” he asks.

“What about me?” You take a sip of beer and enjoy its icy effervescence on your tongue.

“Any plans to visit the matchmaker?”

“I’m not really interested,” you admit.

Mayday nods slightly, his eyes unreadable. “So you’re taken, then?”

The door slides open abruptly, and Sunni bursts in like the force of nature that she truly is, tugging Hexx behind her.

“Are you hiding in here?” she demands with an infectious laugh.

“Of course not!” you lie with dignity. “I was entertaining your guest.”

“Welcome, Commander,” Hexx says, subtly standing at attention.

“Relax, Hexx. You don’t need to salute me at your own engagement party,” Mayday says with that easy, charming smile.

Hexx and Sunni sweep you back outside to join the rest of the party goers before you get a chance to tell Mayday that you are very single.

Months pass before you see Mayday again. Sunni is swept up in wedding plans, and you head back to Nakadia to tend to your farm. There’s plenty to do, between your normal responsibilities and the additional work of getting the property ready to host a large wedding. If you think Sunni is a social butterfly, she pales in comparison to Hexx and his multitude of brothers. Sunni is going to have the largest family-in-law in the galaxy, and it seems like half the GAR will be attending the wedding, along with their plus-ones, most of whom had met through Right to Love Matchmaking. Several of the matchmakers are also invited, and you hope they aren’t so dedicated to their work that they will harass you to sign up for their services.

A few weeks before the wedding, Sunni and Hexx arrive with a large contingent of clones to help with the labor of getting the farm ready for such a large gathering. Veetch is there, of course, along with numerous members of the 77th Heavy Brigade.

And, of course, Mayday is there.

It takes an unbelievable amount of work to get the farm ready, but given that Hexx has quite literally brought a small army to help, it goes faster than you expect. The entire first day is spent clearing brush to make space for the large pavilion where the reception will take place. It is dirty, sweaty, backbreaking work, even with the help of the droids. You are exhausted at the end of the day, and after taking a quick shower, you make your way out to the front porch to watch the sunset. It’s your favorite vantage point, and it’s a nightly ritual that you almost never miss.

Tonight, though, someone has already claimed your spot. His tall, broad form leans casually against the pillar as he surveys your lovely farm. In the golden light of early sunset, you pick up the glints of lighter brown and gold in his dark hair, and for an instant, you wonder what it would feel like to twine your fingers through it. On impulse, you stop in the kitchen and pull two bottles of ale out of your conservator. You join him and offer him a bottle wordlessly. He nods his thanks and goes back to staring out at the kaleidoscopic fields of flowers.

You didn’t see much of him today. He has been busy working on a special project in the barn, and his sleeves are littered with a fine layer of wood shavings. Your knees creak a little as you lower yourself to sit on the porch step, and soon he joins you.

“Nice place you have here,” he says at last, breaking the evening serenity. “Peaceful.”

“That’s what drew me here,” you reply.

He looks at you curiously. “Trying to avoid crowds?”

You nod, not wanting to spoil the tranquility of the moment by delving into your personal history. “It’s a good place to live a quiet life.”

“That sounds…” he begins, but he trails off.

His eyes have a faraway expression, and you wonder what horrors he’s seen to make him look so karking tired. He doesn’t continue, and you don’t prod him. Instead, you quietly watch the sun paint the sky in a wash of pastel. As the light fades and the dusk creeps in, you exchange occasional desultory remarks, but mostly you sit in companionable silence, drinking slowly and simply enjoying each other’s nearness.

“It’s a good place for a wedding,” he observes.

“Yes, I always thought if I ever got married, it would be here.” You smile. “I wouldn’t want the big party, though. Just a few people. Sunni and Hexx, a few close friends. A simple ceremony, and then a cozy dinner party under those trees,” you say, gesturing at the nearby copse of acthorn trees.

“You’ve thought it out,” he observes.

You let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “Kind of hard not to with everything going on.”

“That’s fair,” he says. “I never thought much about weddings. Didn’t think it would be a possibility.”

“Is this the first you’ve been to?” you ask curiously.

He shakes his head. “The matchmakers have been busy. Half of the commanders have paired up, and the other half are just waiting for their turn.”

“But not you?”

He shrugs. “Can’t say I ever thought much about the war ending, until it did. By then, it seemed a little late to start planning a life I never thought I’d have.”

You frown. “It’s not too late. You’ve earned that life, Mayday.”

“Maybe,” he acknowledges. “But I won’t find it on a speed date.”

He’s waiting for you the next night, too, and the one after. Each evening, you open up more to him, and the two of you spend hours conversing in low voices late into the night.

“How many kinds of flowers do you grow?” he asks as he looks out across the vibrant patchwork of blossoms that stretches to the edge of your farm.

“Hundreds,” you reply. “Not all at once. I stagger the plantings to extend the growing season and keep the income a little more predictable.”

“Which ones are your favorite?”

“Fire lilies,” you reply. “They’re unpopular with buyers, but I still grow a patch of them just for myself.”

“I’ve never seen one,” he says.

“Would you like to?”

“Very much,” he replies.

You stand slowly. You’re accustomed to hard work, but the past few days have been a whole other level of manual labor. A tiny moan of relief escapes you as you stretch your tired muscles. When you turn to Mayday, he is watching you with an indecipherable expression. He’s very good at that, you’ve noticed. Sometimes he is very open and easy to read, and others he is incredibly guarded. He must be an excellent sabbac player, you reflect.

With a small smile at the thought, you lead him through the twilight into the garden. In the fading purple light, the lush perfume of the lilies surrounds you in a sweet, heady cloud.

“May I pick one?” he asks.

“Of course,” you reply.

Most people don’t bother to ask, and you never realized how much it bothered you until Mayday’s courtesy reminds you that you have a right to say no. He plucks a blossom carefully, reverently, making sure not to damage the rest of the plant.

“They’re beautiful,” he says quietly. “I can see why they’re your favorite. Why don’t buyers like them?”

“They don’t last long once they’re picked,” you reply. “It makes transporting them tricky.”

“Then I’m sorry I picked this one,” he says.

“Don’t be,” you reply. “There will be more tomorrow.”

The sun has fully set now, and his dark eyes reflect the pale light of the moons. He examines the blossom closely, taking in the graceful curves of the petals, the striations and speckles at the center, the delicate filaments of the stamens. His eyes rise to your face, and his hands follow nearly unconsciously. His knuckles brush subtly against your cheek as he tucks the flower into your hair. Your mouth suddenly feels very dry, and you swallow without meaning to.

“Beautiful,” he repeats.

---

Read Chapter 2 here!

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #Commander Mayday #other clones

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