#mia writes fanfic

[threewaywithdelusion]

You Me Her

Since AO3 is down and I'm sure people are losing their minds looking for fics (I am people), I'm posting some of my fics over here. If you look in the tag "Mia writes fanfic" you can see all the fic I've posted on tumblr. If you prefer to read on AO3 now that it’s back up, you can find this fic here

Robin was the first person to notice something was wrong with Steve Harrington. 

By the end of the day, everyone had noticed. People were whispering up and down the halls, wondering what had happened to Steve since yesterday to make him act so drastically different. He hadn’t flirted with a single girl all day. He’d told Tommy Hagan to “knock it off” when Tommy had started tormenting a freshman. He’d treated his friends weirdly – avoiding Jason Carver, a sophomore on the basketball team who he’d been training, losing patience with Carol Perkins’s snappish remarks, freezing up when some cheerleaders talked to him. 

Robin heard all of this second-hand. King Steve was so notorious that even the band kids were gossiping about his personality transplant. Multiple people came up to Robin to share some tidbit of gossip that they insisted proved that Steve had been body-snatched. 

But Robin didn’t need rumors to know that Steve Harrington was different. She’d known since first period, when he’d walked into Ms. Click’s class on time and without a bagel. Steve had barely glanced at Tammy, even as she’d looked at him from under her lashes, beautiful and enticing. Instead, Steve had, for the first time in his entire life, looked at Robin. 

And he’d smiled at her. Not a polite acknowledgement of her existence – which still would have been more than Robin had ever gotten from him – but a huge, friendly smile. The kind that would have had most girls falling at his feet. 

Robin glanced behind her to see if Steve was smiling at someone else, but unless Steve was smiling like that at Fred Benson – even more unlikely – he was definitely directing that expression at her. 

Robin spun back to Steve, unsure what her face was communicating. Confusion, maybe, or wide-eyed shock. 

Steve didn’t look offended or surprised by her reaction, just gave her a dorky little wave and sat down. 

Robin stared at the back of his head, still trying to process what had just happened. Tammy turned to Robin, scanning her up and down. Robin knew she was just trying to figure out what about Robin had caught King Steve’s interest, but her scrutiny made Robin feel all hot anyway. It was Tammy, looking at Robin intently. With purpose. Taking in Robin’s stupid perm and her smudgy makeup and her layers of jewelry. 

Robin blushed. 

Tammy turned back around. 

Ms. Click began talking, but Robin didn’t hear a single word for the rest of class, lost in thought. She alternated between loud mental screaming about the fact that Tammy had looked at her and staring at Steve Harrington’s famous hair and wondering what the hell had inspired him to notice her existence. 

Robin was packing in a daze at the end of class when Steve gave her another smile before leaving. Robin accidentally met Tammy’s eyes, which were just as confused as Robin felt. 

Tammy bit her lip, which was pink and soft-looking. “Robin? Did you talk to Steve over the weekend?”

Oh my god. Tammy was talking to her. It wasn’t like Tammy never talked to her, but every single time it made Robin lose her mind and babble like a freak. 

Robin just shook her head instead of risking opening her mouth. 

“Oh,” Tammy said, looking disappointed. “But you like him?”

“No,” Robin said honestly. “I don’t even know him.”

“But you like him,” Tammy said, and this time it wasn’t a question. “I saw you blushing after he smiled at you.”

“I guess so,” Robin said. What else was she supposed to say? She couldn’t tell Tammy that she didn’t give a damn if Steve Harrington looked at her and that the blush had been all for Tammy. That would send Tammy running the other way.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” Tammy said. “A lot of girls like Steve.”

She didn’t mention that she was one of those girls, but she didn’t need to. Robin knew. 

Maybe it would be okay to pretend to like Steve. It would give her and Tammy something in common and it would help her hide in plain sight. Steve was the perfect fake crush for a lesbian, pretty and athletic enough to be an acceptable crush, but unattainable enough that she would never have to act on it. Robin had never faked a crush on him before because of the principle of the thing, but now that she’d accidentally already done it, she might as well keep up the pretense. 

“Today must have been a fluke,” Robin told Tammy, trying to sound both reassuring and lovelorn. She didn’t want Tammy to see her as a threat. She wanted her to see her as a friend. “I don’t think Steve even knows my name.”

***

But Steve kept smiling at her for the rest of the week and on Thursday, Tammy asked Robin if she wanted to hang out after school. 

“Really?” Robin asked. Then, “I mean, yeah, sure. Sounds fun.”

So Robin went to Tammy’s house with the rest of Tammy’s friends. Apparently they did this every Thursday — Friday and Saturday were date nights, which made Thursday the perfect girls’ night. 

They went up to Tammy’s room, which was like peeking into her mind. The other girls paid no attention to the room, probably having seen it a million times. They settled on the floor, spreading bowls of chips and chocolates around and pulling out magazines and nail polish. But Robin couldn’t help but try to take in every detail of the room. The walls were pink and the curtains and bedspread a gauzy white, giving everything a bit of a princess feel. But there were posters on the wall, and not the kind Robin had expected. There weren’t handsome movie stars — these were girls with guitars. 

“Who’s that?” Robin asked, pointing at a poster of a girl with long straight hair, standing over a microphone and holding a guitar. 

Tammy twisted to see who Robin was pointing to. “That’s Emmylou Harris. She’s incredible. She was one of the first women to really make it big in country music.”

“So you want to be like her?” Robin asked. 

Tammy blushed a little, playing with the end of her long blonde curls. “I mean, I don’t know if I’m as good as Emmylou Harris. But that’s the dream.”

“You’re really good,” Robin said sincerely. “I heard you singing Kiss On My List before class the other day and it was-“ captivating. life-changing. beautiful. “Really good,” Robin finished lamely. 

“Thank you,” Tammy said, looking touched. 

One of Tammy’s friends — Olivia? — rolled her eyes. “Tam, we didn’t invite Robin here to talk about your singing. We want to hear about Steve Harrington!”

The two other girls — Karen and Melissa — giggled and nodded their agreement. 

“What did you do to get his attention?” Olivia asked Robin. 

Robin tried not to obviously deflate. She wanted to talk to Tammy about her passions, see the way Tammy lit up when she smiled. She didn’t want to gossip about stupid boys, especially not Steve Harrington. 

But that was why they’d invited her over. Her fake crush on Steve was her in with these girls, with Tammy, and she had to make them believe her if she wanted to be invited to spend more time with him. 

“I don’t know,” Robin said honestly. “I’ve sat behind him all year and I didn’t think he knew I existed. And then all of a sudden on Monday — bam! — he’s acting like he knows me.”

Melissa hummed, passing around bottles of nail polish. “Maybe it’s your hair? Did you perm it recently? Cause Heather Holloway says Steve has a thing for girls with curly hair.”

Tammy frowned at her own hair and shook her head. “Robin’s hair has been like that all year.”

Tammy had watched Robin closely enough to notice what she did with her hair? Robin bit down on a smile, grabbing blue nail polish from Melissa. 

“Did you go to the party last weekend?” Karen asked. 

Robin shook her head. She’s actually spend last weekend reading a book, listening to her language tapes, and playing board games with her parents. Nothing that could be remotely considered cool. 

“Did you look particularly pretty on Monday?” Olivia asked. 

Robin shrugged. “I think I just looked how I always do.”

Tammy put on a Kris Kristofferson record then sat down beside Robin again. “I guess we’ll just have to watch what he does in class. Collect more information.”

“I guess so,” Robin said, hoping Steve forgot her existence soon for her own sake. She didn’t know what she would do if he actually asked her out. 

But maybe if he kept giving her attention she could keep this new friendship with Tammy, at least for a little while. 

Robin sighed, loud and long. 

“Don’t worry,” Tammy said, “We’ll figure it out.”

“And you don’t… mind?” Robin asked. “I know you like him too. I don’t want to break girl code or something.”

Robin had never worried about breaking girl code before, for obvious reasons, but she’d seen girls fall out over liking the same guy. 

Olivia snorted. “Please. Girl code doesn’t count when it comes to Steve Harrington. He’s slept with half the school.”

“Yeah, everyone knows he’s just a good time,” Karen added. “He doesn’t actually date girls for real.”

“I went out with him for two weeks in middle school,” Melissa said. “We made it to second base and then he dumped me for Erica Tanner.”

“You’re in good company here,” Olivia promised. 

Tammy still hadn’t spoken. Tammy was  focused on painting her nails bright pink, a color Robin would never choose for herself but that perfectly matched with Tammy’s pink cheeks and pink lips, which she was biting. 

Because Tammy cared, Robin realized. Steve might be the school slut, and he might never date a girl seriously, but Tammy liked him for real. 

Melissa, Olivia, and Karen were now arguing over whether Melissa’s two-week fling with Steve Harrington counted as a relationship. They seemed sufficiently distracted, so Robin dropped her voice low and leaned into Tammy’s space. 

“Do you mind?” she asked Tammy. “Because I can back off.”

“No,” Tammy said, smile pretty and entirely a lie. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Robin didn’t know what to do with that. Was Tammy trying to save face by not admitting she had a real crush on Steve Harrington? Was this her way of testing if Robin was worthy friend-material? How was Steve fucking Harrington Robin’s key to getting to know Tammy and also the one who was mostly likely to ruin this new friendship?

“Okay,” Robin said, staring at her nails so she wouldn’t have to figure out what facial expression was appropriate. She cleared her throat. “So you were telling me about Emmylou Harris?”

***

Steve Harrington came up to Robin at her locker on Friday, when she was getting the books she needed to take home for the weekend. 

“Hey,” he said, like it wasn’t supremely weird that he was approaching Robin Buckley, band geek and wallflower and no one who ever should have caught his eye. 

“Hi?” Robin answered. 

Steve ran his fingers through his hair. “Do you want to go to the diner with me? We could get milkshakes.”

Robin stared at him. Was this a joke? A prank? Had one of his friends dared him to ask out the weird band kid?

“What?” Robin asked. 

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. He looked nervous, which was crazy. He was Steve Harrington and she was just Robin Buckley. 

“I can drive us,” Steve said. “And I’ll pay.”

“I’m not going on a date with you,” Robin said. It was a gut reaction, but a second later Robin couldn’t help but wonder if she should have said yes. What was she going to tell Tammy about why she’d turned down her supposed crush?

But why was Steve Harrington even asking her out in the first place?

Steve didn’t look offended at her rejection, but he did hurry to say, “I know. I didn’t mean as a date.”

Robin looked down the hall. A group of cheerleaders at one end was watching them, giggling and tittering. Had the cheerleaders put him up to this? Girls could be vicious, but trying to embarrass a girl by having a boy ask her out seemed like a more guy type of prank somehow. 

“You want to hang out with me just as friends,” Robin said skeptically. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. 

Robin rolled her eyes. “Right. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“I mean it,” Steve said. “I want to be friends.”

He was lying. Robin didn’t know why, but he was lying. Maybe he thought that if she hung out with him as “friends” she would eventually change her mind and agree to date him. 

“Why?” Robin demanded. “Why would you want to be friends with me?”

Steve opened his mouth, then paused. He thought for a few seconds before he said, “You seem cool.”

Robin snorted. “I’m the furthest thing from cool.”

“No, I know,” Steve said. “I mean you seem… interesting. Nice. Fun.”

“You don’t even know me,” Robin said. “We’ve never spoken, and now all of a sudden you’re interested in me? I don’t buy it.”

“It’s true,” Steve said. He jumped as a hand landed on his arm and then Carol Perkins was there, staring Robin down with disdain in her eyes. 

“What are you doing?” Carol asked. 

“I was asking Robin to milkshakes,” Steve said. 

Carol gave Robin an up-and-down and it didn’t feel good like when Tammy had done it. Carol wasn’t admiring her. She was looking at Robin like gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe. 

“Are you that bored of going out with pretty girls?” Carol asked, voice all fake-interested like it was a real question. 

Steve scowled, shaking Carol’s hand off his arm. “Robin’s pretty.”

Carol rolled her eyes. “She’s not terrible, I guess, under that bad perm, but she dresses like a dyke. If you want to rebel and date a freak or a charity case, you can do better.”

Robin flinched violently when Carol said the word dyke. She fought to keep her expression straight even as her heart raced and her lungs constricted. 

Did Carol Perkins know? Or had she blindly thrown out an insult, hoping it would hurt?

“Don’t call her that,” Steve snapped, his face dark and furious. He looked frightening enough that Robin skittered back half a step. 

Carol didn’t look scared of Steve, but her mouth did drop open in shock. 

That was fair. Robin was shocked too. 

Was Steve defending her?

Maybe this was what it meant to be a girl Steve Harrington liked. Maybe he didn’t like Carol calling Robin a dyke because that was an offense to his own masculinity. That was the only thing that made sense. Robin had heard Steve throw around gay slurs just last week, so it couldn’t be the word itself that he had a problem with.

“Seriously, Steve?” Carol asked, haughty and judgmental. “You can’t actually like her.”

“Robin is great,” Steve insisted. 

Carol rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll remind you of this when you come to your senses.”

With that, Carol spun on her heels – red hair smacking Steve in the face – and walked away.

Steve’s posture loosened, like he had also perceived Carol as a threat. 

“I’m sorry,” he told Robin, looking sincere and apologetic. 

Robin hated him. 

“Stay the fuck away from me” Robin told Steve. 

She slammed her locker and walked away, clutching her books to her chest to hide her shaking hands. She kept her head up as she walked by the cheerleaders, who laughed loudly as she passed. 

***

Steve kept smiling at her whenever he walked into Click’s class, but he didn’t try to ask her out again. 

He looked a bit like a kicked puppy every time she glared back at him, but Robin didn’t care. 

“What are you doing?” Tammy asked one day after class. “He’s going to give up on you if you keep glaring at him like that.”

“He asked me out as a joke,” Robin told Tammy. 

Tammy frowned. “Are you sure it was a joke? I don’t think he would do that.”

“I’m sure,” Robin said darkly, thinking of Carol hovering and the cheerleaders watching. Did Steve believe what Carol had said? Was that the joke: to put Robin in a position where she had to either go on a date with a man she didn’t like or else turn him down and confirm she was a lesbian? What kind of girl said no to a date with Steve Harrington?

Tammy bit her lip. She had on bright pink lipstick today. It would have looked tacky on anyone else, but it made Tammy look like a pop star. Robin wondered if the lipstick was flavored. She wished she could kiss Tammy and find out.

“You don’t mind if I flirt with him, right?” Tammy asked, echoing Robin’s words at her house last week. So far, Robin hadn’t been invited to girls’ night again. 

Yes, Robin thought. Yes, I mind. I mind so much, but not for the reason that you think. 

“Not at all,” Robin said. “It’s like you said, girl code doesn’t apply to Steve Harrington. Go for it.”

So Tammy kept trying to get Steve’s attention. He was nice to her. He never outright ignored her when she talked to him, but he never talked to her for longer than politeness required. He would always turn away, missing the way Tammy’s face fell. 

And he kept fucking smiling at Robin. Picking up her books when she dropped them. Apologizing to her when he got bagel crumbs on the floor, even though she’d never mentioned how much it annoyed her. Turning to catch her eye when someone said something funny, like he thought she was someone he could share inside jokes with. 

Slowly, Tammy stopped smiling at Robin. She started flicking annoyed glances in Robin’s direction whenever Steve gave Robin attention. Started snapping at Robin whenever Robin tried to sympathize with her about how much of a douchebag Steve Harrington was. Started avoiding Robin unless Robin directly started conversation with her. 

Steve Harrington was ruining everything.

***

“What are you doing?” Robin demanded. She’d chased Steve after Ms. Click’s class, following him to the little alley out by the gym. She was going to be late for math, but she didn’t care. She needed to talk to him before he ruined everything. 

Steve frowned as he lit up a cigarette. “What do you mean?”

“In Click’s class,” Robin said. “Tammy is practically throwing herself at you but you never even look her way. And I don’t talk to you at all, but you keep trying to talk to me.”

A flash of something crossed Steve’s face, but Robin didn’t know him well enough to read his expressions and it was gone in a heartbeat anyway. 

“You don’t want me to talk to you?” Steve asked.

“Yes!” Robin said. “No. I don’t know. Why won’t you flirt with Tammy?”

Steve’s face scrunched up. It was a face Robin had seen before when they were taking tests in class – it meant Steve had no idea what was going on. “You’re upset because I’m not flirting with Tammy Thompson?”

“I don’t get it!” Robin said. “She’s really nice and she’s a good singer and she’s really pretty. Objectively. I mean, she seems like the Steve Harrington type.”

“Right,” Steve said, his lips twitching like she had said something funny. 

“So I don’t get it,” Robin said. “She’s right there, and I don’t even try, but you keep looking. What’s so special about me?”

“Oh,” Steve said, like he had just realized something. “She’s jealous of you.”

Robin shuffled but didn’t say anything. Of course Tammy was jealous. Steve sat next to her every day, did he really not see it?

“And you don’t like that,” Steve continued, like he was figuring something out. Unfortunately, he was figuring out entirely the wrong thing. Robin wasn’t here to talk to Steve about her friendship with Tammy, she was here to find out why Steve didn’t like Tammy and why he seemed to like her. 

“It’s not about me,” Robin said. 

“Right,” Steve said, inhaling his stupid carcinogens. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Robin asked. She was pretty sure she was smarter than Steve Harrington, so she didn’t know why she was the one feeling lost in this conversation. 

Steve stubbed out his cigarette against the wall. “I’ll fix it.”

The late bell rang. Robin wanted to ask Steve what he’d understood from this conversation, but she really did need to go to math class. Arriving late wasn’t a good way to fly under the radar. 

“Okay,” she told Steve, not quite sure what she was agreeing to. 

He gave her another one of those big smiles as she left the alleyway. It made something churn in her gut. 

She wanted to be the kind of girl who got excited when Steve Harrington smiled at her like that. She wanted Tammy Thompson to smile at her like that. She wanted to fall in love with someone who loved her back, and she wanted to not get chased out of town by an angry mob with pitchforks for it. 

***

The next time Robin walked into Ms. Click’s class, Steve was flirting with Tammy. 

Robin had to stop in the middle of the aisle, feeling like she’d just been punched in the gut. 

Tammy was leaning into Steve’s space, twirling her blonde curls around one finger. Steve was smiling at her, arm stretched over the back of her chair, listening attentively as she spoke. 

Robin forced herself to walk mechanically to her desk. She took her notebook and pencil case out of her backpack and very carefully arranged everything on her desk, doing anything she could to prolong looking up. She didn’t want to watch this. 

After what felt like the longest few minutes of Robin’s life, Ms. Click began talking. Robin risked looking up and saw that Steve had pulled his arm back and Tammy was sitting in her own seat again. 

She couldn't stop seeing them wrapped up in each other. 

At the end of class, Steve walked out quickly, the way he always did. Robin wondered if he always went to smoke behind the gym and that was why he ran away so fast. 

Tammy whirled to Robin, squealing, her face lit up in a beautiful smile. 

“Robin! Did you see that!”

Tammy hadn’t started a conversation with Robin in two weeks. Robin managed a real smile in the face of Tammy’s happiness. 

“I did,” she said. 

“I think he likes me,” Tammy said, almost shy, playing with the bracelets on her wrist. 

“Yeah,” Robin said, ignoring the sinking feeling in her gut. “I think so too.”

***

The rumors at band practice told Robin that Steve was still flirting with other girls. He seemed particularly interested in Nancy Wheeler, who was a priss and a nerd but who was pretty and definitely his type. He seemed to be slowly wearing her down. 

It made Robin furious. So Steve Harrington had a crush on Nancy Wheeler, fine, that made sense. But if he really liked her, and the rumors said he was absolutely head-over-heels, then what was he doing playing with Tammy and Robin? What the fuck was he up to?

***

A week later, Steve didn’t run out of Click’s class at the first sound of the bell. Instead he turned to Tammy and Robin and said, “I’m having a party at my house tonight. You’re both invited.”

“I’ll think about it,” Tammy said, smiling like this was a game. It was. They all knew Tammy would be going to see Steve and she was just trying to play it cool. 

“Cool,” Steve said. He met Tammy’s eyes, then Robin's. “I’ll see you there.”

Tammy waited until he walked away, then did a little shimmy of excitement. It was kind of lame, but also hopelessly endearing. Robin liked when Tammy didn’t try to act cool around her. 

“You’re going?” Robin asked dully. 

“Of course I’m going!” Tammy said. “This is going to be so much fun! You’re coming, right?”

“Yeah,” Robin said, her mouth running before her brain could catch up with it. Tammy wanted her there. What else could she do? “I’ll be there.”

***

Robin got her dad to drop her off at the party. She was willing to bet she was the only teenager being dropped off by their dad, but her parents weren’t the type to be upset about her going out and they trusted her to drink responsibly. Plus, Robin couldn’t drive, so she didn’t know how else she was supposed to get there. 

By the time she arrived, the party was already in full swing. Music came from inside the house and a few people spilled out into the yard. 

Robin headed inside, dodging around a few couples making out against the hallway walls. Tammy was probably here already, right? Robin passed through the kitchen, filling a red solo cup with a tiny amount of vodka and a lot of coke. Jason Carver was there, flirting with Chrissy Cunningham, who was blushing at the attention. 

Robin slipped into the living room and that was where she found Tammy. She was standing against a wall, surrounded by Olivia, Melissa, and Karen. Tammy was holding a red solo cup and staring out at the other end of the living room. 

Robin followed her gave to Steve, who was talking to… Eddie Munson? Robin watched with her jaw slack until Steve came away with a grin and a joint between his fingers. 

That made sense, actually. Of course the only reason Steve Harrington would ever speak to Eddie Munson would be to buy drugs.

Robin went up to Tammy, hovering at the edge of the group as she said “hi.”

“Hey,” Tammy said, giving her a distracted smile. 

“I like your dress,” Robin said. She wanted to say that Tammy looked good, but that wasn’t a safe compliment. 

“Thanks,” Tammy said. “I got it in Indy.”

“It’s cute,” Robin said. It was — pink and ruffled at the edges and unlike anything anyone else was wearing. Something that screamed Tammy Thompson. 

The music went quiet for a moment, and Robin spun around, trying to figure out why. Carol Perkins was standing by the speakers. 

“Let’s play a game!” she said, blowing a bubble with her gum like the picture of teenage insouciance. “Truth or dare.”

She sat on the ground, Tommy Hagan and Steve Harrington sitting beside her. A few more jocks joined — Jason and Andy from the basketball team, Chrissy and Fiona from the cheerleading squad. Heather Holloway and Patrick and Brenda. 

“We have to join!” Tammy said. She grabbed Robin’s hand and dragged her over to the circle.

Robin complied in a daze. Tammy was holding her hand. Tammy’s hand was soft and warm and not sweaty at all and Robin could die happy, Tammy’s hand in hers. 

Tammy released her as soon as they got to the circle and Robin felt suddenly bereft, taking a seat mechanically beside her. Melissa, Karen, and Olivia sat on Tammy’s other side. 

Steve Harrington was looking in her direction, eyebrows up, and Robin scowled at him. Steve smiled, hands up like he was saying don’t shoot, and Carol noticed and shot Robin a glare. 

“Tommy,” Steve said. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Tommy said. 

Steve grinned. “I dare you to let Carol take a body shot off you.”

Tommy scrunched up his face. “Don’t you mean I should take a shot off her?”

Steve blinked, absolutely nothing behind his eyes. “What do you mean?”

So Tommy lay down and balanced a shot glass on his stomach, so low it was practically on his hips, and Carol grabbed it with her mouth, tipping her head back to drink. Robin didn’t like Carol at all, but she had to admit there was something attractive about it, about the long line of Carol’s throat as she drank the shot and the dainty, self-satisfied way she wiped her mouth afterward. 

From there, they kept going around the circle. 

Heather Holloway gave Andy a lap dance. Fiona admitted to having done mushrooms. Jason Carver was dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the circle, which made him turn to Chrissy Cunningham and say “A good girl like you deserves better than some drunken kiss during truth or dare. What do you say I take you out to dinner tomorrow and then give you a kiss on your front porch at the end of the night?”

Chrissy’s smile was disarmingly wide. “Yeah,” she said, nodding. “That sounds nice.”

“It’s a date,” Jason said. A few of the boys hollered and whooped, patting Jason on the back and shaking him a little. Jason looked bashful, hiding a smile behind a sip of his drink. 

“Finally!” Carol Perkins said. She turned to Chrissy. “He’s been pining over you since last year and it took him this long to work up the guts to ask you out.”

Jason screeched at Carol, who ignored him and winked at a pleased-looking Chrissy. Robin was hit with the sudden realization that Carol Perkins could be nice, when she wanted to be. 

Melissa got dared to swap clothes with Patrick, Karen revealed she’d shoplifted a pair of earrings once, and Olivia admitted to having made out with a boy in the school janitor’s closet. 

Then it was Tammy’s turn. 

“Truth or dare?” 

“Dare,” Tammy said, something brave in her eyes. 

A few of the girls conferred together — Carol and Heather and Fiona — before turning to Tammy with smiles on their faces. “We dare you to shotgun with Steve.”

Tammy’s eyes went wide. Robin didn’t think Tammy was the type to smoke weed, but Tammy pressed a confident smile onto her face. Maybe she didn’t want to back down from a dare. Maybe she just wanted a chance to press her mouth against Steve Harrington’s. 

Steve looked at her from all the way across the circle — if he, Tommy, and Carol were the North Pole, Tammy and Robin were the South, the antipodal point — and raised the joint questioningly. 

“Okay,” Tammy said. 

Steve took a drag off the joint and crawled across the circle. Tammy met him in the middle and he was gentle as he used one hand to tip her chin up, pressing his lips against hers and exhaling. Robin could only really see the back of Tammy’s head, but she was hit by a burning jealousy at the way Steve so casually touched her. 

It felt like it had been years since Tammy had held her hand. 

Tammy sat back beside Robin, a pleased little smile on her face. 

“Band kid,” Carol said, smiling meanly. “Truth or dare.”

Robin shuffled uncomfortably. So far all the dares had involved some kind of sexual display with the opposite sex and Robin did not want to kiss a boy or give him a lap dance. But she also had a lot of secrets she didn’t really feel like sharing. 

She should pick truth, right? Worst come to worst, she could just lie. It’s not like any of these people would ever know — none of them really knew her. 

“Truth,” Robin said. 

Chrissy started to say something, but Carol spoke over her. “Who was your first kiss?”

Robin’s cheeks flamed. Carol was doing this on purpose. 

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet,” Robin said, trying to sound casual. It wasn’t that unusual, at least in the circles she ran with. 

But Carol reacted with extreme shock, her eyes going wide, her mouth dropping open. “Ever? That’s so sad!”

“Not really,” Robin said. Everyone was staring at her. She’d spent months trying to fly under the radar, and now they were all watching her and it was just as terrible as she’d thought it would be.

Carol kept going. “But why haven’t you kissed anyone? Aren’t there any boys you like?”

It would have been fine if Carol hadn’t paused a little, put more emphasis on the word boys. But Carol knew what she was doing, insinuating exactly what she had when she’d stood with Steve by Robin’s locker. 

Everyone in the circle was staring at Robin. Jason Carver looked disgusted. Tammy pulled back a bit from Robin’s side. 

Robin felt like she was going to throw up.

Then Steve Harrington scoffed. All eyes moved to him, to see what the King was going to say. Steve was relaxed, weight back on one hand, legs kicked out in front of him. “Not everyone is a slut, Carol.”

The like you went unspoken, but Robin saw it land. Carol’s face scrunched up with real hurt for a second, like she wasn’t sure why Steve was attacking her. 

Tommy, sitting between them, gave Steve a what the fuck look as he pulled Carol into his side. 

Steve either didn’t see any of this or pretended not to. He turned to Patrick, sitting next to Robin on the opposite side as Tammy, and said “truth or dare?”

Robin relaxed. It was over, right? They weren’t looking at her anymore?

She glanced around the circle and it seemed like everyone had moved on. A sneaky glance at Tammy showed that she wasn’t sitting as close to Robin as before, but she also wasn’t looking particularly repulsed. Maybe she had just forgotten to move back again. 

Robin didn’t really believe it. 

She tried to calm her racing heart as the next few people went. But when it was Steve Harrington’s turn, she couldn’t help but tune in. 

“Steve,” Tommy Hagan said. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Steve said, like every teenage jock ever. 

Carol leaned over and whispered in Tommy’s ear and Tommy grinned. “I dare you to kiss Robin Buckley.”

Robin’s blood turned to ice. Once again, all heads in the circle swiveled to her. 

Robin didn’t want to kiss Steve Harrington. She had been saving her first kiss because she wanted it to be special. She could have pretended to like a boy, to kiss a boy, to date a boy. But she had wanted to save all her firsts for a girl — to have them be real and meaningful instead of a stupid farce. 

She didn’t have a choice though. Not after what Carol had implied earlier. If Robin didn’t kiss Steve, she would practically be confirming that she was a lesbian. 

Robin looked to Carol, who was smirking at her. 

“Yeah,” Robin said shakily. “Okay.”

Steve was watching her intently, something indecipherable in his eyes. He got to his feet and crossed the circle, kneeling down in front of her. 

Robin didn’t think she’d ever been this close to a boy. He smelled like hairspray and beer, and his eyes were brown and serious as she watched her. 

He gave her the same friendly smile he’d been giving her all semester, then leaned in to whisper in her ear. His breath was uncomfortably hot on her skin as he said, “trust me.”

Then he pulled back and squared his shoulders, cocky and unapologetic about it. He smirked around the circle, a boy proud to be showing off that he was kissing a pretty girl. 

Robin was going to throw up. Her heart was pounding and she was going to have to kiss a boy and Steve had been playing games with her all semester. 

Robin closed her eyes, preparing for the kiss and also trying to hide the hot tears she could feel building up. 

She jumped a bit when Steve’s hands landed on her face. He wasn’t holding her jaw delicately like he’d done to Tammy. Both of Steve’s giant palms where splayed across her cheeks, one of them half caught in her hair, dragging it in front of her face. Great. Her first kiss was going to taste like hair and that wasn’t even going to be the worst part of it. 

Robin kept her eyes screwed shut as Steve’s skin pressed against her lips and his nose bumped hers and — those weren’t Steve’s lips. 

Steve was close, yes, so close they were sharing the same air. So close that it probably looked like they were kissing. 

But this was a stage kiss. Steve’s thumb was over Robin’s mouth, his lips pressed to one side and hers to the other. 

Robin opened her eyes in shock. She couldn’t really see Steve — he was too close not to be blurry — but his eyes were pressed closed, brown eyelashes fanned over his cheeks. As if this were a real kiss. 

Where had basketball-playing, prom king Steve Harrington even learned what a stage kiss was? This couldn’t be standard practice for the popular kids — they played these games as an excuse to kiss each other, not to fake it.

And more importantly, why was he doing this? Was he that opposed to kissing her? Or had he somehow noticed her reluctance and decided to protect her while allowing both of them to save face?

Steve used his hands to tilt Robin’s head and she followed without resistance. He pressed closer, moving her back, and they still weren’t kissing but it probably looked like they were making out. Like he was into this. Like she was.

Robin closed her eyes. She could figure out the mystery that was Steve Harrington later. Right now, she had to help Steve sell this. 

She raised her hands to Steve’s shoulders, pulling him closer, hoping he wouldn’t misinterpret her sudden ardor as a request for a real kiss. 

He let out a little moan, his nose brushing hers as he tipped his head, and she smiled against his thumb. Holy shit. They were totally faking it and everyone was going to think she was a good enough kisser to make Steve Harrington moan.

After a long moment, Steve pulled back, simultaneously slipping his thumb to the side so it wouldn’t be over her mouth. 

He stayed in her space a second longer, eyes locked with Robin’s. He seemed pleased with himself, or maybe with her shocked expression. 

He licked his lips and Robin copied him automatically. Her lips tasted like beer and smoke but it was from Steve’s hand, not his lips, and that made all the difference. 

Someone wolf-whistled. 

Steve backed away, returning to his seat next to Tommy Hagan. Robin was speechless as the room returned to focus.

Carol looked pissed. Tommy was elbowing Steve, leaning in to tease him. 

“Damn, Harrington,” said some basketball jock Robin didn’t know. “I didn’t know you were into band nerds.”

“That was a hell of a first kiss,” another one said. 

Steve smiled, cocky and pleased and bashful all at once. He was a better actor than Robin had ever given him credit for. 

Tammy nudged Robin, and that’s when Robin realized she was still staring at Steve, dumb with awe. 

As everyone turned to Tommy Hagan, Tammy leaned in and whispered, “it looks like you really enjoyed that kiss.”

She was trying to smile, trying to gently tease like a friend would, but Robin could see the heartbreak in her expression. Robin wished she could tell Tammy that it had all been for show and that she hadn’t actually kissed Steve, but Tammy had pulled away at the accusation that Robin was a lesbian and only been okay touching her again after that performance of a kiss. 

This wasn’t a world where Robin got to have both Steve and Tammy. 

“Yeah,” Robin said, surprised to find she was telling the truth. She was glad she’d been dared to kiss Steve and not any other boy here. There were apparently layers to Steve Harrington, who she’d thought was nothing more than a pretty, empty-headed, girl-obsessed jock. 

She kind of wanted to know more about him. 

She glanced across the circle. Steve was watching Tommy try to do a handstand, until Tommy overbalanced and fell into Steve’s lap, making him yelp. Steve laughed as he leaned over Tommy, asking if he was okay, and Tommy’s eyes lit up in a way Robin recognized. The way she had probably lit up when Tammy had taken her hand. 

In that moment, Robin felt like she understood something about all of them. 

Carol’s frozen smile as she watched her boyfriend beam at Steve. The way Tommy pretended to fumble a bit climbing off Steve’s lap, if only to stay there a second longer. And Steve’s sharp eyes, catching Tommy’s adoration and Carol’s pain. 

“You’re too high, man,” Steve said, waving his joint in a big circle. Giving Tommy cover in case anyone else had noticed what Robin had. 

“Way too high,” Carol agreed, snatching the joint from Steve’s fingers. She took a long drag, then blew the smoke out, passed the joint back to Steve, and curled into Tommy’s side. 

Tommy and Carol looked like the picture of a happy couple and Robin realized it was another type of performance. Had Carol known before she started dating Tommy? Or had she fallen in love with him first, only realizing he liked Steve when it was too late to stop her heart from being broken?

Robin didn’t want to feel sympathy for Carol Perkins, who had tried so hard to ruin Robin’s night. But she pitied her a little, watching her playact at being happy and realizing that they were all doing it. All these stupid popular kids were just pretending to be shiny, happy people and the rest of the school was buying it, standing too far away to see the imperfections that would have been obvious up close.

Steve met Robin’s eyes across the circle, bringing the joint to his lips. His eyes were perfectly clear, pupils small, not like someone who had been smoking at all. Another slight of hand, like the stage kiss. 

“I think he likes you back,” Tammy said. 

Robin looked at Tammy, who was faking a smile just like the rest of the popular kids. Why hadn’t Robin seen it before? Tammy was brave and Tammy was kind, but she hid those parts of herself, trying to seem just as cookie-cutter perfect as the rest of the people in this circle. 

Robin didn’t want cookie-cutter perfect. She wanted real. 

She still didn’t want to break Tammy’s heart, so she said something she didn’t really believe about Steve. Not anymore.

“Maybe,” Robin said. “But like you said, he’s just a good time. He’ll be over me in two weeks.”

***

On Monday, Robin found Steve at his locker after school. 

His eyes went wide as she came up to him and he smiled at her. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Robin said. She kicked the toes of her converse together. She’d spent all of yesterday doodling on them while watching tv. Maybe it was stupid, given how close Carol had come to outing her, but Robin was feeling a little bulletproof. She’d written I may not go down in history, but I’ll go down on your sister in pen on the whites of her shoes. 

Steve looked down at her feet and smiled. “Nice artwork.”

Robin froze, even though there was no way Steve could read her shoes while standing up. “Thanks,” she said stiffly. “I thought they could use some, uh, personality?”

“I like them better this way,” Steve said. 

Robin cleared her throat. “Do you, uh, wanna get milkshakes? You’re paying, of course.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Yeah,” he said quickly. “I’ll buy you however many milkshakes you want.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Do girls really fall for this desperate act?”

“I’m much cooler around girls I’m interested in,” Steve said. Robin believed him this time. He’d put his thumb over her mouth and then swaggered like he’d kissed her and she trusted him in a way she hadn’t before. 

She was dying to know why he’d done it.

“So it’s just your friends that you bribe into liking you,” Robin teased. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, shameless. “Usually more with free rides and arcade money, but I’ve used ice cream before.”

“You’re so weird,” Robin blurted out. Then she froze. It was practically social suicide to call Steve Harrington weird. 

But Steve didn’t get mad. He just laughed and said “you have no idea.”

“Yo, Harrington,” called a  basketball player walking down the hall. “Hurry up, you’ll be late for practice.”

“I’m not going today!” Steve called back. “I’m sick.” He gave a very unconvincing cough. 

The basketball player rolled his eyes. “Lovesick, maybe.”

Steve scowled playfully. “Fuck off, man.”

“I’ll tell Coach you’re too pussy-whipped to play,” the basketball player said. 

“Don’t you dare!” Steve called. Robin expected him to sound more offended at being called pussy-whipped. No teenage boy wanted to be told he would do anything a girl told him to do, even in exchange for sex. And Steve was definitely not getting sex. But the insult rolled off Steve like water off a duck’s back. “Tell him I have the flu.”

“Sure, sure, whatever.” The boy rolled his eyes as he disappeared around the corner. 

Steve closed his locker. “Ready to go?”

“You’re not going to basketball?” 

“No,” Steve said. “We’re getting milkshakes. I’m not giving up a chance to make Robin Buckley my best friend.”

“Aren’t you, like, first chair?” Robin said. She watched a lot of basketball games by virtue of being in band, she knew it was called starting line. But she enjoyed seeing Steve’s face scrunch up at her words.

Steve groaned. “God, that is annoying. Remind me to stop calling Dustin’s campaigns his nerd practices.”

“Who’s Dustin and what are campaigns?”

“A kid I babysit, and a Dungeons and Dragons game.”

Robin blinked. “Dungeons and Dragons? That Hellfire game?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “He’s not in high school yet, so he doesn’t play with Eddie as his DM, but I’m sure he’ll join in a few years.”

DM? Was that some Hellfire term?

Apparently the new Steve Harrington knew the terms to nerd games. He stage-kissed lesbians at parties and thought it was worth skipping basketball practice for a chance to be Robin’s friend.

“Who are you?” Robin asked. “And what have you done with Steve?”

“I’m a time traveller from the future,” Steve said. 

Robin laughed. What a nerd. “No, really.”

Steve started walking backwards down the hallway, keys swinging around his fingers. “I’ll tell you over milkshakes.”

He held a hand out to her, beckoning, a hopeful smile on his face, and it didn’t feel like a joke anymore. Robin had no clue why, but Steve Harrington really wanted to be her friend. 

Robin peeled herself off the lockers and took Steve’s hand, their fingers twining together, letting him pull her outside. 

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #ao3 #because ao3 is down #robin buckley #Steve harrington #carol perkins #stobin #platonic stobin #time travel fanfiction #mia writes fanfic

[90smaximoff]

Three reasons.

g¡p!stepsister!wanda x fem!reader

summary: once you got a new stepsister who couldn’t keep her eyes out of you, you knew your life wouldn’t be the same.

words: 2k

warnings: smut (+18), g¡p wanda, stepcest, mentions of pervy behavior, masturbation, blowjob, dirty talk, degradation, cum eating, wanda being an asshole, yk, (also bad writing i wrote this in less than an hour) if you feel uncomfortable don’t read.

Since your dad married Wanda’s mother, a lot of things changed in your life. First, you had to move to your new stepmother’s house, your dad said that was bigger and that would be comfortable for all the family. Second, you got a new step sister, first, you were interested in her, living with another teenager made you anxious but you find out that most of the time was like Wanda wasn’t even there, she’s always in her own room, and months passed with just basic words being shared between you guys. 

But, soon, you started to think that your step sister was wanting to fuck you. Nothing that you’re disgusted by, after all, Wanda was hella hot and you two didn’t have the relationship of sisters. 

First, you noticed the way she stares at you. Her beautiful green eyes seemed to be wanting to devour you every time she was near you, always looking away when you catch her staring, in the living room, kitchen, or even some expensive restaurant that your dad takes the family, she always have an eye on you, not that you would do something about it.

Second, happened on a normal thursday, when your shower had broken for some plumbing issues and your step mother suggested to you take your shower in Wanda’s bathroom instead for a couple days, which none of you seen any problem. 

Everything would be very normal, if wasn’t for the fact that when you were leaving the bathroom, with nothing but your towel around your body and your wet hair, Wanda was waiting, really close to the door. You almost bumped into her, but noticed her taller body before, stopping and standing just a few inches away from her face. Wanda didn’t make a single movement to move away from you, actually, she didn’t seem bothered at your lack of distance.

“I know what you’re doing.” You whispered under your breath, in a tone that only she could hear. 

“Yeah? And you like it?” She gives you a smile that makes your knees buckle and for a second all you wanted was kiss her lips and take that cocky smile off her face. 

You didn’t respond after that, taking every strength in your body to get away from her and go to your room, not even looking back to see if she was looking at you. 

The third, and last reason you was sure Wanda wanted to fuck you, was when your friend was throwing a party. You dressed real nice, a little black dress that hugged your body beautifully and your make up made with perfection, you looked at the mirror and had sure you was looking good. 

When you enter the dinning room, just to tell your dad that you was leaving, he almost chocked with his food. The whole family was having dinner, including Wanda who had a similar reaction to the way you dressed. 

“You’re not going dressed like this!” He shouted and you roll your eyes. “At least put a jacket. And Wanda’s taking you.” Wanda’s eyes widened a bit, but she agreed promptly. 

You tried to argue, even knowing that was useless, your dad was protective over you and you knew it, so the best you could do was put a jacket and message your friend saying that your step sister was taking you and her ride was no longer needed, And that’s what you did.

Wanda opened the door of the car for you, but nothing between you both had been said until half of the way.

“You can leave the jacket in the car, if you want, i’m not telling your dad.” You looked at her and she seemed to be focused on the road, so you murmured a “thanks” and unbuttoned your jacket, putting it in the backseat. The rest of the road was a comfortable silence, even through both of you had a lot to say to each other. 

Wanda parked one street before your friend’s house, saying something about how probably there’s a lot of cars in front of the house already. The street was desert and dark and honestly you was kind afraid of leaving the car, but it would be only 2 minutes walking. 

“You know, you look pretty hot in that dress.” She commented, out of nowhere before you leave. 

You looked at her, chocked by what she just said.

“What’s wrong with you?” You asked in a harsh tone. Since what happened in the bathroom, you’ve been thinking a lot about her, how she almost don’t talk to you and still make sure to check you out every time she sees you.

“What?”

“You don’t even talk to me, Wanda! We’ve been living together for almost six months and i don’t even know you but you still act like you want to fuck me, checking me out all the time, waiting for me to leave the shower and now telling me that i look hot! What’s wrong with you?” This time, your tone was just honest, you keep your eyes on her all the time and she seemed to be surprised at your vent. Seconds passed and she didn’t say anything. “C’mon, just be honest, this don’t have to get weird.”

“You want me to be honest?” She finally speaks, giving you a cocky smile and making a nose crunch like she wanted to say something she couldn’t.

“Yes, please!”

“Okay, i’m gonna be honest! I want to fuck you, God, i want to fuck you so bad since the day i met you, but you’re my stepsister, this is wrong. Jerk off thinking about you, it’s wrong, stopping by your room door hoping to get a glimpse of you naked, it’s wrong, thinking about bending you over in ever surface of that damn kitchen every time i see you cooking, it’s wrong. Fuck it, it’s all wrong.” She says, letting out a loud sigh like she just takes a big weight off the shoulders.

It was your turn to be surprised, that was the first time you heard Wanda says more than two phrases for you and you surely wasn’t expecting that, all the thoughts of everything she just said running through your head. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t think about this or nothing of that turned you on.

“Yeah… this is wrong.” You looked into each other’s eyes and in the next second, you were kissing. 

You wasn’t even thinking straight, all you feel was Wanda’s soft lips guiding your in a desperate kiss, like she was waiting a long time for that, you put your hands on her face and she didn’t think twice on putting hers on your uncovered thighs. Even with that weird position in the car, that was one of the best kisses on your life.

The kiss became heated, Wanda slide her tongue in your mouth and gripped your thighs, making you almost let out a moan as you bring your hands to her bulge, feeling it get bigger at your touch and hearing Wanda let out a moan on your mouth, smiling, knowing what you was about to do.

When you feel that she was already completely hard, you opened her belt, breaking the kiss for a moment for her to lift up her hips and bring her pants down, with her underwear. Her cock was big, nothing scary, but pretty hard with a pink tip leaking precum, you almost lick your lip at the sight and quickly put your hand around the base. 

Wanda groaned at the contact of your small warm hand and sit back to her seat, putting one hand at your hair and caressing slightly. 

“I’m so hard for you.” She whispers, watching how you jerk her off, slowly bringing your hand up and down her cock, caressing the tip with your thumb before going down to her base again. 

“Yeah, your cock is so fucking big, can’t wait to have it inside me.” You says, jerking her off a little faster at each word, seeing her close her eyes and moan just at you talking dirty to her. 

You watched her carefully, her expression of pleasure would be on your mind all the time by now. 

Without thinking much, you lowered your body and put your mouth around her cock, feeling it heavy against your tongue, you couldn’t see Wanda from that position but for her moans and her hand at the back of your head holding your hair in a ponytail she definitely likes it as much as you. 

You hollowed your cheeks and swallowed her length, holding the base with your hand and stroking the rest that didn’t fit in your mouth, feeling her cock hit the back of your throat and reminding yourself to breathe through your nose, you bobbed your head up and down, in the same pace your hand was moments before. 

Wanda watched you mesmerized, your hot mouth on her cock was driving her insane and all the kinky nature of fuck her stepsister just makes it all hotter for her, she wanted to fuck your throat and cum all over your face but she didn’t know your limits, and honestly after fantasizing about you for so long wouldn’t take to much for her to reach her climax. 

“Fuck, that’s it, you like sucking your stepsister’s cock, don’t you? Fucking slut.” Her words made you feel the familiar discomfort between your legs, wanting to have some relief for yourself, but right now suck Wanda’s off was the only thing you wanted to do. Her cock feels heavy and hot on your mouth, her moans and groans was making you shiver and she was right; you liked suck your stepsister’s cock. 

You nodded the best you could with your mouth full and the discomfortable position on the seat.

Wanda didn’t take long to get closer, your tongue against her shaft and your hand stroking her cock was too intense for her, she starts to thrust into your mouth unconsciously, lifting her hips making her cock hit deeper in your throat.

“I’m gonna fucking cum and you will swallow all of it, don’t you, hm? Bet you want all of my cum, it’s that what you want? You want to be my cumslut?” Just a nod of your head and she explodes inside your mouth, painting your throat and mouth with white streaks, which you gladly swallow, savoring her taste and licking your lips at the end. 

You sit back at your seat again, giving Wanda a few kisses on her neck while she catches her breath and you slowly stopped your movements with your hand. 

“You taste so good.” You whispers against her neck, making her smile and caress your hair. 

When she stopped pant and you take your hand out of her cock, you waited for her to say something, anything, maybe just kiss you. But she did nothing. 

You were kinda disappointed by that, but didn��t say anything about, just got back to your position and pulled the mirror of the seat, checking yourself to make sure you wouldn’t got off of the car looking like you just sucked someone’s cock. 

The whole time, Wanda said nothing, all she did was look at you. 

When you’ve done and had sure you looked pretty even with your make up and hair a little messy, you looked at her again. 

“Don’t need to pick me up, Hailey’s giving me ride to home.” She nods her head and you got out of the car. 

Oh, how you wished she had said something, or even just kissed you. 

#marvel smut #mcu smut #marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda smut #mcu x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff smut #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #wanda imagine #wanda mcu #wanda marvel #mia’s writing

[magicpiano]

AU where Von Karma kills Miles instead of Gregory

Manfred Von Karma just got a dent in his perfect record. Gregory Edgeworth almost took away the thing that mattered most to him. Isn't it only fair that he destroy what matters most to Gregory in return? Besides when that elevator opened it became obvious that the child was the one to shoot him in the shoulder. Turnabout is fair play, right?

So Gregory lives, but his son is dead and despite being the only possible suspect, Yanni Yogi gets away with it. His son's murderer walks free, so Gregory quits his job as a defense attorney. It is hard to believe in what he does anymore.

His life is mostly quiet— lonely. He doesn't really talk to his friends anymore. He doesn't do much of anything anymore. He does some kind of boring law work, like property law or contracts or something and everyday he goes home to an empty house.

Until one day he gets a call from his dead son's best friend. You see Phoenix Wright has been accused of murder.

Phoenix lost his taste for defense attorneys when one got his best friend's murderer off, and somewhere along the line he decided he wanted to become a prosecutor. He wanted to be the best prosecutor so that no guilty party ever got away with murder again. That goal led him to the court house one day, and led him to meeting his current girlfriend. Then it led to a murder accusation.

No, Phoenix doesn't quite like defense attorneys, but... He still remembers how Miles saved him that day. He remembers how Miles talked about his father the same way he talked about the Steal Samurai. Like he was a hero. And right now, Phoenix really needs a hero. Who else would he trust with his life?

Gregory hasn’t defended anyone in years. He is out of hope and out of practice, but Phoenix won't accept anyone else. For all that he has given up years ago, he can't let Miles' friend down. Because Phoenix is one of the only people still alive that remembers Miles— that still cares about him. Because in all the pictures where Miles was smiling the brightest, Phoenix was next to him. Because Miles thought Gregory was a hero. He isn't. He couldn't even save his own son, but maybe, just maybe he can save his son's friend.

But you see this girl named Mia Fey really wants this case. Phoenix might not want her as his defense attorney, but that won't stop her. She is going to be Gregory's co-council on this case whether he wants her or not.

And they win of course, but Gregory nearly has a heart attack when Phoenix eats a glass bottle of poison because he can't lose him too— But he is fine. Heartbroken, but fine. And Gregory had saved him.

For the first time in years he has a purpose again.

Mia has a case she is working on, and wouldn't you know it, Gregory is actually kind of involved. So she leaves her job with Grossberg and joins Gregory as he restarts his defense agency.

He starts taking cases again— he starts helping people again. He reconnects with the friends he has been ignoring for years, like Ray. He helps Phoenix study for his law exams. He researches that case with Mia. He starts to live again.

Mia is researching a dangerous case, a long history of blackmail and extortion. If she didn't have help it would have taken twice as long, if she didn't have help maybe she would have died. But she did have help. Gregory wasn't going to let anyone use his son's death as a weapon to hurt others, including the Fey family's reputation.

They find their evidence, press charges and wouldn't you know it, they have a prosecutor on their side, one who is not afraid of Redd White’s threats. Working together, Phoenix wins the case and gains a lot of fame for it.

(And when Larry is accused of murder, Gregory takes that case too, all the while laughing at what troublesome friends his son had.)

All of this is a problem for Von Karma, because Gregory is a very good defense attorney. Phoenix might have been the one to prosecute Redd White, but Von Karma knows where all the evidence came from.

Gregory wasn't a problem when he was depressed and not practicing law, but now all of a sudden he is gaining a name for himself again. He took down Redd White. He is winning cases and someday they might just face off against each other again. And if Von Karma isn't careful, Gregory just might win.

Gregory is the one person capable of beating Von Karma which is why he needs to be dealt with.

Maybe Gregory should have ignored a letter from Robert Hammond, but how could he? The man got his son's murderer off the hook! And so Hammond dies, and Gregory is arrested, but things don't turn out how Von Karma thought they would.

Gregory has a lot of friends who all help him investigate, and Mia has learned a lot under Gregory, and Phoenix has been running around looking for files from the prosecutor's side, and Gumshoe likes Gregory way more than Von Karma and helps in any way he can, and Ray has been doing everything he can to help too. Because while Von Karma has a legacy of victory, Gregory has a legacy of love.

And when Von Karma is arrested for Miles Edgeworth's murder, Phoenix turns to him and promises to be the prosecutor for his trial. He became a prosecutor because his best friend didn't get justice, but he isn't going to let that happen a second time.

It is not a happy ending. For Gregory, the only happy ending would be if his son was still alive.

But he has a reason to live again. There are always bad days, but he has friends who won't let him wallow too long. Every day he helps people, and when he visits Miles' grave he finally has stories to tell.

Phoenix is talking about routing out corruption in the prosecutor's office. For all that it sounds like an impossible task, Gregory thinks Phoenix might even be able to pull it off.

Miles used to think his father was a hero. Gregory isn't that, not by a long shot, but... He hopes he can be half the man his son believed he was.

#ace attorney #gregory edgeworth #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #mia fey #manfred von karma #ace attorney au #gregory edgeworth lives #dl 6 incident #miles edgeworth dies #prosecutor phoenix wright #mia fey lives #gyakuten saiban #aa #phoenix wright ace attorney #pwaa #fanfic #fanfiction #this is a summary for a fic I have had planned out for years but I have come to realize that I will never have the time to write it #so uhhh here it is for anyone who might be interested #sorry for writing something worse than canon. Miles deserved way better. #idk what happens after this but i think Gregory ends up adopting everyone #my posts #my fanfic #manfred von karma bashing #you read that right I made him WORSE than canon

[harryforvogue]

hello. here she finally is, the harry and mia blurb (which i also offer as the 200k reads celebration story). i hope you like her. she's like 7k words so she DID take some years off my life but it's okay. as long as YOU guys are happy hehe. there is basically no smut in this, but i like to think it's quirky and funny. happy reading! and thank you, as always, for you patience <3

i literally cannot come up with a synopsis for this so. yeah. just read it THANKS LOVE YOU BYE!

***

Just two weeks ago, Harry and Mia had been invited to a birthday party.

To be specific, which is very necessary in this situation, they were invited to a kid’s birthday party. Harry had promoted one of his employees to a high position, and as a thank you, the woman had invited Harry and a plus one to her child’s 6th birthday party. Harry had looked down at the invitation wondering if there was a typo. He couldn’t fathom the idea of going to a regular birthday party, much less a kid’s one.

But his employee had insisted. And Harry had hinted that taking him out for lunch or something would be even better in his books, but the women refused to budge. So a few days later, Harry and Mia stood in a venue with drinks in their hands, dodging children left and right.

His arm was slung around her waist. Mia was quiet for some time, a pensive look on her face as she watched the child who was “it” bellow, “CHAAAARGE” before sprinting to tag the other kids. Usually, something like this would make her twitchy, but something about her still figure and soft brown eyes made him ask, “What do you think? Should we get one?”

Mia had blinked at him. “A kid?”

“No, a bouncy house.”

“Oh. Um. Well, I wouldn’t be opposed, but…”

“Mia. Never mind. Yes, a kid.” He sighed deeply and slanted his head towards her, his brows raised. “Thoughts?”

“I mean…” They’d talked about it before. And both of them wanted children. But it seemed like something that would happen after the wedding. But even that was really close – in three short months. “You know I want your kids.”

Harry laughed softly and shook his head. “You always emphasize that they’d be mine as if I’d expect them to be somebody else.”

“Well, you know,” she smiled back, nudging his shoulder with hers. “I have to remind you that they’ll all have your big head.”

“You love my big head.”

“I do.” She took a sip of her drink. “And you? Think we should get on it?”

If it were up to Harry, he would have liked to wait just a year more. He wasn’t in a rush. Though recently he had been enjoying the idea of having a baby to erase, and the feeling was always tainted by terror. “Maybe when my job is a little…”

Mia nodded. “Yeah.”

Harry had been so busy recently. His father’s company had just bought another, right before the end of the fiscal year. They had so much to work on for reports. It was driving him insane and causing him to work overtime. He just needed to get over his hurdle. And then he’d relax. He’d come home on time. He’d have more time to take Mia out rather than force her to attend a birthday with him. This felt like work anyways.

“But I do look forward to it,” he’d insisted, kissing the top of her head. He watched as two kids ran into each other and began sobbing on the floor. “Well. Mostly.”

A week later, Mia had come out of the bathroom at night with a pregnancy test in her hand. Her eyes were wide, hesitant. “I thought it would be funny,” she said, “if it was negative because I missed a period and–” 

She handed him the test. “You said you wanted kids a little later… what if we had one in nine months?” She looked at the wall, dazed. “Well. Seven months really, if I’m doing the math correctly. Which I’m probably not. You know what? It doesn’t matter. I think you get the point.”

Harry peered down at the test. It was a very solid positive. He’s silent for a moment. Then – “Holy shit.”

“I know,” Mia whispered, joining him on the bed. “It’s a lot. But we’ve talked about it, right? And we’re getting married and you know it was gonna happen eventually. I mean–”

“Mia.”

“-- I’m just saying that with the amount of sex you and I have, protected or not, it’s totally a miracle that we haven’t gotten pregnant already. And yeah I know we ditched the protection, and birth control doesn’t always work but–”

“Mia.”

“--what I’m trying to explain is that I’m totally okay with this. I might be freaking out a little bit and I might have had a mini panic attack in the bathroom but I really just–”

“Mia.”

She buried her face in her hands. “What?”

“I fucking love you.”

He’d taken her wrists and tugged. When she gave up and let him, he grabbed her face and kissed her so hard, she squeaked in surprise, steadying herself with a hand on his chest. “That,” he murmured through the kisses, “was such a Mia way of telling me. You are unbelievable. I’m never going to get used to you.”

Her eyes had immediately welled with tears. “Yeah? This is all right? We can work with this right? I mean, I’ll likely have to get the dress tailored again but I don’t think I’ll be showing that much in two months.” She leaned in and kissed him again and again until he felt her tears on his own face.

“This is perfect,” he’d whispered, holding her tight until she was gasping for breath. “I fucking– Mia. Mia. You make it so hard when you give me all these gifts.” And then he was grabbing her again, making her straddle him. He kissed her again and again, unwilling to take breaks in between even when his lungs were aching for air.

“You,” he said softly, “are everything. Listen to me. Everything. And we’re going to celebrate tomorrow, okay? Anything you want. All day. Nobody can bother us. How’s that sound, hm?” He kissed her. “I love you. I love you so much I can’t think straight.”

When Mia fell asleep on his chest that night, his mind was racing with ideas on what they could do tomorrow. What could he do that could compare with the things she’s done for him? He held her tight. He was going to be the best damned father anyone had ever met. He couldn’t be anything less than that.

***

The next morning, Harry’s phone begins to ring. And it continues to ring until Mia groans and reaches over him to grab it. She looks down at the caller ID with squinted eyes. It’s as if a bucket filled with ice water has been thrown over her.

“Hey,” she whispers to Harry, pushing his shoulder to wake him. “It’s your father.”

He tucks his head against her neck. “Ignore it.” His voice is raspy.

She lets it ring until it stops. “You already have two missed calls from him. What if something happened? Like the company suddenly went bankrupt overnight? Like something with the stocks. Like the Great Depression? Do you know how bad the Great Depression was?”

“Then I guess I’m unemployed. I’m so sad.” He doesn’t sound sad at all. His arm that’s thrown over her waist tightens and he pulls her back down until she’s against the pillows again. “Go back to sleep.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me when you wake up destitute.” She closes her eyes when Harry’s warm body begins soothing her back into a peaceful state. Her eyes are heavy again. Nothing is more comfortable than Harry’s hold lulling her to sleep.

And then Harry’s phone rings again. It rings and rings until Harry finally raises his head and swears under his breath. He grabs his phone and puts it to his ear. “Hello,” he answers in a very not so kind voice.

“Harry,” Mia hears his father’s voice through the phone. She opens her eyes and glances up at Harry. “Why haven’t you been taking my calls?”

“It’s 5 in the morning on a Sunday,” Harry replies tensely.

“You will be having dinner with your step mother and I tonight.”

He doesn’t even bother asking. He just demands it. Mia watches Harry rub his eyes and sit up, turning away from her onto his side. “I’ve got plans tonight. Maybe another night.”

“No, tonight. I’ll be out of the country next week.”

“I can’t tonight.”

“You may bring Amelia as well.”

Harry pauses. He doesn’t correct him about her name as he always does. “I’d have to ask her.”

“I need to speak to you urgently about a matter regarding the company.”

“We can do this over a video call.”

“Harry, I’m not asking you. I will send you an address and you will show up. With your girlfriend or not, it matters little to me. This is an important conversation we must have.”

“Fiancée, actually. Which I’ve told you,” he says. He takes a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. Mia knows Harry’s getting angry at his father from the long pauses he keeps taking. She knows he’s trying to calm himself down before he says something completely out of turn. She sits up and rests her head on his back, holding onto his arm.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, rubbing her hair against him. “We can go.”

He turns his head to look at her, his eyes wide. He pulls the phone away. “I wanted to celebrate with you.”

“We can do it another time.”

“No. This needs to be celebrated immediately.”

She smiles sleepily, raising her head to look at him. “We have, like, seven months to celebrate.”

His jaw tenses as he brings his phone back to his ear. She nods encouragingly and then lays back on her side, tucking herself under the warm sheets. She feels him staring at her a few seconds before she hears his soft voice say to his father, “We will be there.”

“Good,” his father says. “I will send over the details.”

“All right. Bye.”

She hears him turn his ringer off and then set his phone to the side. He gathers her into his arms and holds her close. His lips press to the top of her head. “I’m really sorry, Mia.”

“Don’t be,” she laughs softly. “Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“I know. But still.” His voice is quiet and sad. “I wanted to celebrate.” His hand slides over her stomach. “Take you somewhere nice.”

“I’m sure the restaurant your father picks will be nice.”

“I wanted to take you somewhere nice and alone.”

“We can do that any other day.”

He’s quiet again. “Yeah.” Before she falls asleep, she hears Harry apologizing again, barely audible.

***

Mia walks in on Harry pulling his freshly tied tie off his neck. He mutters a swear and tosses it on the bed and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt, pulling his collar open. With a deep breath, he makes eye contact with Mia through the mirror. She’s in a long summer dress and white sneakers, pulling her jacket on. She’s done her hair in loose curls and pinned the front pieces out of her face. She smiles at him, but he doesn’t smile back, clearly lost in his thoughts. 

“Hey,” she says, frowning. She takes his hand and walks around to stand in front of him. “It’s okay.”

His eyes are distant. “I want a day off with just you and me. I’ve been working so much, I feel like I’ve barely seen you. And we live together.”

Mia presses his hand to her cheek. She feels his knuckles gently caress her skin upon contact. “I know. But things come up. We can have a day to ourselves next week.” She frowns deeper. “Oh wait. We promised Amara and Zack we’d do a double date.”

At the reminder of the plan, Harry looks pained. “We can just not show up.”

“That would piss him off.”

“Who cares? I’m pissed off right now.”

Mia stands on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck. A smile takes her face again, and she’s suddenly leaning in to gently kiss the corner of his mouth. “Well, I hope you know that you’re so cute when you’re pissed off.”

“I’m serious.” His voice loses a bit of its agitated tone. He holds her waist.

“As am I. Now come on. Stop brooding and look a little more happy. I’m having your child, after all. You owe me smiles for the next seven months.”

At that reminder, his eyes light up and one dimple appears. Then another. He holds her face and tugs her closer. “You’re absolutely right.”

She grins and then melts into the embrace when Harry kisses her. “I am always right.”

Mia doesn’t know how some people are able to keep the news as a secret until their partner is ready to take it. When she looked down at the positive pregnancy test last night, her first thought was to tell Harry. There was no way she’d be able to keep it to herself.

She lost count of how many times he whispered “thank you” and “I love you”.

Harry was in such a mess, they weren’t actually able to make love like she thought they would. Every time Harry would hold her face to kiss her, he’d tear up again and drop his head, whispering the words again, mixed with a healthy and colorful amount of soft, incredulous swears.

“I was thinking, actually,” he murmurs once he pulls away. He twists a strand of her hair around his finger. “We should go for a vacation. To celebrate, I mean.”

Mia says, “You know I am always ready for a getaway.”

“Mhm.” He kisses her again. “And when we come back, we can start telling people? Is that a thing that you do so early?”

“Well, I don’t have any other children so it’s hard for me to know.”

“Then maybe we wait until the second trimester.”

“Should we do a gender reveal party?”

Harry thinks about it as he kisses her once more. “Dunno. I mean, I would totally be okay with finding out the day off.”

Mia’s eyes light up. “I was thinking that too.” She slides her hands down his shoulders, fixing his collar along the way. “I would be happy with a boy or a girl.”

“Me too.”

“And should we do something like a big reveal for our friends and parents? No wait. I’d actually rather tell my parents in person.”

“Is that where our vacation will be? Staten Island?”

She fakes a shudder. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He kisses her for a final time, a very long kiss that has her pressing herself against him, his hands on her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin. And when he pulls away, Mia laughs softly and wipes his mouth. “Lipstick,” she whispers. Harry cleans up the corner of her mouth with his own thumb. “We should head out soon.”

Harry sighs deeply and nods. “Let’s get this over with, hm?”

“Let’s.”

***

Despite having been with Harry for four years, it still shocks her whenever they go out to a place as fancy as this. Because although Harry and her do go to expensive places, they’re never as high end as the ones his father picks. Harry complains that the super expensive places don’t have edible food, which she has to agree with. Looking at the menu in her hands, she scans it for anything that she even recognizes.

Most of the time, she has to elbow Harry gently and ask him what these dishes are. Unfortunately, Harry is having a discussion with his father about the company, something she usually just tunes out.

At least she’s decided what drink to have. And the post dinner dessert.

Harry jokes with her that she should listen to how the company is run or at least know its primary functions. He says that if he ever got sick, she’d have to step in to run the company for him. Mia’s not all that sure how much of that is the truth. They wouldn’t just give the company to anybody, right? Harry reminds her that his father handed a large part of the company over to him despite Harry not having the experience. Mia argues that that is a classic story of nepotism. Harry argues back that him giving her his job is also nepotism.

You really can’t win with rich people, Mia says, ending the conversation there.

After they’ve ordered (Mia playing it safe by ordering exactly what Harry does), they sit in relative silence until Harry’s father clears his throat and says, “Well, I have news to give you, Harry. In fact, tomorrow morning, we can start on the paperwork.”

Harry says, “Paperwork?”

“Yes. I’m sure you know of all the board meetings we’ve been having over the course of the past two months, and there have been rumors here and there, but I’d like to actually come straight to you to say it. I am stepping down as chief executive officer.”

Harry takes a sip of his water. “Great. Who’s the unlucky fellow that gets to take your place? Is this about voting? I told you having an even number of board executives was a bad idea for this very reason.”

Something flashes over Harry’s father’s face. Surprise, perhaps. “Well, I wouldn’t just hand the position over to just anybody.”

“Right. Do you want me to look over performance reviews and applications?”

“Harry,” Mia says softly.

He glances down at her and then his father. Then his step mother. Realization dawns. “Oh.”

“Yes. I will be passing duties over to you.”

Mia watches the expressions pass over his face. Confusion, surprise, then… something else.

“It was always set in stone that I would pass the company to you, son. I did think I would continue to be CEO for at least another 2 years, but I think it’s an excellent time for me to retire. The company is stable. The revenues have increased every year, our profit margins are better than ever. There are few fires to put out in distinct subsidiaries, but this previous quarter has been exceptional.”

“Right.”

“It is not only because you’re my son. It’s also because of your commitment to the company. You have been strict in hiring and following the companies values. Your negotiating skills have never been more excellent. We gained a new subsidiary that brings in massive amount of profits because of you. The contracts you’ve renewed this year alone are commenable. You’ve put in the work and you deserve this position.”

“Right.”

“We will start the paperwork tomorrow.”

Mia realizes what’s on Harry’s face. Dread.

Because Harry’s never wanted that position. She knows it. Sometimes, he’d reveal to her that it was the only position left for him if he were to excel past his current one, and that he wasn’t sure how he’d react to the news. They all thought it would be a couple more years until this discussion was brought up.

But now it’s here. Harry is reaching for his water again, taking slow slips in thought.

The silence is unnerving. Mia puts on a bright smile and exclaims, “This is wonderful news! Congratulations, Harry!”

His step mother raises her glass in a toast and everyone except Harry clink theirs together. “Congratulations!”

“I understand it’s a shock,” his father says after drinking his wine. “But it is for the best of the company. I leave it in good hands.” He glances up at the waiter. “Thank you.”

As the plates are getting set in front of them, Mia puts her hand on top of Harry’s under the table. She notices that his fingers are cold, so she rubs them softly.

“You know what?” Harry suddenly says when the waiter leaves. He pulls his hand out from under hers abruptly. “I’ve got to get some air. I’ll be right back.” He pushes his chair out. “Excuse me.”

Mia watches him quickly walk out of the restaurant while undoing one more button of his shirt. Normally, she’d be annoyed that she’s been left with the shark of a father he has, but now, concern runs through her. She’s already on the edge of her seat when Harry mutters an apology to the host and exists.

She glances back at his father and step mother. They don’t actually look perturbed.

“I would have thought he’d gotten used to all this,” his step mother says, cutting into her steak carefully. “Does it always take him time to get used to something?”

“Yes,” his father says, chewing already. “He’ll be fine.” He looks at Mia. “How have you been, Amelia? The wedding planning is complete, yes? How’s the job going? You know, my offer at the company still stands. Well, now it’ll have to go through Harry, but I’m sure that the position he can get you would pay far better than the one you currently h–”

“Actually,” Mia says, standing up. She winces at the way her chair screeches against the floor. “I am so sorry. I’m, um, I’m going to check on Harry.”

His father waves his fork in the air. “Go on ahead. Talk some sense into him.”

She offers a nod of some kind and then walks out, trailing after Harry. She also apologies to the host and promises her return.

He hasn’t gone too far. In fact, he’s right out the restaurant, pacing with his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Harry.” She jogs over to him, grabbing his blazer sleeve, stopping him in his step. “Hey. Hi.”

He looks at her with frantic eyes. “I’m not taking that job. I can’t take it. I can’t.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

He stares at her for a moment before wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight against his front. His heart is beating fast. “Mia. I don’t– Mia.”

“It’s okay.” She feels him drop his head to her shoulder. He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I don’t want to be the CEO.”

She rubs his back. “I know.”

“I always thought it would be fine, yeah? Take on a few more responsibilities. But…”

“It’s just not what you want.”

“Is it wrong? I’ve always known, so is it cheating by refusing now? I mean. I know people who would kill for this job. My father probably thinks I’m being ungrateful.”

Mia shakes her head. “Well, you’re not. You’re trying your best, and this just doesn’t interest you. You don’t want it.”

“Maybe 5 years ago it’s what I would have wanted. I wanted to prove that I could be something big. Prove it to my dad. But things are different now. I don’t want to prove anything to anyone. I feel as if I’m different. You and I are different.” He squeezes her. 

“I understand,” she whispers. “I know.”

“What difference will it make anyways? We’re more than comfortable right now. I’m miserable at my job and I will be miserable as CEO.”

This is news to her. “I thought you were enjoying it a bit more.”

“No.” His voice is muffled against her dress. “You think I like a job that doesn’t allow me to see you?” He suddenly lifts his head and holds her waist tight. “Mia, this past week alone, I’ve come home so late that you’re already asleep. I don’t want that.” She sees something like fear in his eyes. “I didn’t pay attention to you the first time. And look what that did to our relationship. It was entirely my fault. I can’t do that again. I can’t handle that. I won’t ever show up. But that’s what we agreed on all those years ago, right? That I’d be there?”

“Harry…”

“I’ve been so good at showing up and that’ll all change if I take the job. There’s a reason why my parents never worked out. Why I never had a good relationship with my dad.” His eyes are wide, frantic. “I can’t be my father. I don’t want to be. I would never want to be. I can’t do that to you. I can’t do that to…” He puts a hesitant hand on her stomach. “God, I’d hate myself if I did that.”

“Harry…” Mia surges forward and throws herself at him, hugging him so tight, she feels her own ribs hurting. He holds her just as tight, head against her shoulder once more. “Oh, I love you, you beautiful person. I love you so much.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, turning his head to kiss her cheek. “Is that all right, then? If I say no?”

“I think you should say no, then quit your current job and let me be the income earner for the rest of the year. Won’t be able to pay for the wedding though. You’ll have to chip in. A lot.”

Harry chokes out a laugh. “We’ll honeymoon for the rest of the year.”

“As long as it’s not in Staten Island,” she giggles, planting kisses after kisses on his jaw. “I love you. Got that? I love you always.”

He pulls away slightly to look at her, apprehension in his eyes. “Always? Are you sure? It’s…it’s not easy loving me.”

Harry’s never been the type to ask Mia to remind him she loves him. She knows he knows that she adores him more than anything. But now, he’s asking, and he’s looking so hopeful with his pretty green eyes under the golden lights outside the restaurant. He’s looking all over her face, his gaze often lingering on her mouth.

“Are you kidding me?,” she suddenly laughs. “Harry. You know loving you has never been difficult for me. And not to mention, you’re kinda stuck with me. We’re reproducing after all.”

Harry groans. “Is that how you’re going to break the news to everyone? Hey guys, just wanted to say that my fiancé and I did have unprotected sex—“

“Wait! That’s basically what people say when they’re like oh yeah we’re trying. Like hmm okay, but we know exactly what’s going on no matter how cute you make it sound!”

“And yet it’s still better than we banged and here we are.”

Mia smiles. “But we did bang and here we are indeed.”

“Listen.” He takes her clip out of her hair and fixes her short strands back again. “Tell your friends however you’d like. But my family will be told a very specific, expensive way.”

“Like a party? You don’t like them.”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t seem to oppose the idea of celebrating such a big thing, though. As long as I get to kick people out on time.”

“But with Amara and Zack—“

“I give you full control.”

“Good. I want to make them cry.” She looks very determined. “I want them to be fighting for their life. Choking, even.”

Harry says, “Er, yeah. Whatever you want.”

“Maybe we can tell your father and step mother right now.”

Harry drags the back of his hand against her cheek. “Yeah?”

“I mean, you’re going to have to give a reason why you’re declining. And you can’t just say it’s because you love me so so so so so much.”

“Oh yeah? And why not?” He squishes her face, pulling her close, his voice tender. “Why can’t I refuse on the basis of loving my fiancée so so so so much?”

Her eyes light up. “Because that’s super out of character for you. He might think you’re sick. Although I’d love to see the look on his face.”

“Me too. He might have a heart attack at the idea of his son being happy.”

Mia suddenly frowns. “Don’t say that. That makes me really angry.”

“I know. Hey. We should go and make him angry instead, hm?”

“I like the way you think, Styles.”

He smiles and kisses her quickly. “Come on.” He takes her hand. “Let’s ruin their day.”

They share one more look before they head back inside. When they reach the table, they’re not surprised to see their plates untouched and the others nearly finished. They sit back down. 

“Have you finished with your dramatics?” Harry’s father says calmly.

“I will be refusing the promotion.”

Well, shit, Mia thinks. Just getting straight to it then.

His father’s eyes narrow as he slowly puts his fork down. He then takes a sip of his wine. Finally, he clasps his hands on the table. “And why, might I ask?”

“I have other priorities I need to focus on.”

“Something that is more important than your career?”

“Yes.”

“There is nothing more important to a man than his career.” His father shakes his head. “I’m disappointed. I wish you’d have learned this by now. You should take time to think this over. It won’t even be such a big difference.”

Harry says, “I have a different future in mind for myself. Something I think is more worthwhile.”

His father’s eyes narrow some more before they turn on Mia. “And I assume this decision is due to your influence as well.”

“I don’t think I influence Harry to do anything. I like to think I just encourage him.” Mia hates how she doesn’t sound confident in herself. “This is something we both happen to believe in.”

“He would not make this decision if it weren’t for you.”

Mia catches the bitter, criticizing tone, and so does Harry. She can tell by the way he tenses.

“Do not,” he says tightly, “speak to her like that. I am refusing the position and that is my final answer.”

Mia’s surprised when Harry’s getting up to leave. She scrambles to do the same, taking his outstretched hand. “Um. Goodnight,” she says even though Harry’s already dragging her away. The look on his father and step mother’s face is priceless. Mia wishes she could photograph it, blow it up, and put it on a blanket. It would make for an excellent anniversary gift.

Harry’s walking so fast, she needs to jog a little to keep up with him. When they get to the car, he stops and looks up at the sky. He laughs a little, but Mia’s sure he’s not finding anything particularly amusing. “Well, shit.”

“Uh, is he going to come after us?”

“Of course not.”

“Right.” She needs to say something to make him feel better. Anything. Anything ridiculous. “I wished we packed up the food. It looked really good.”

It works. He snorts and unlocks the car, releasing her hand. “Relax. I’ll feed you. Let that be the least of your worries.”

They sit in the car, but Harry doesn’t start it right away. Instead, he holds the steering wheel and takes several more deep breaths. After a moment of silence, Harry puts his head on the wheel.

Mia rubs his back. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Harry doesn’t reply for some time. His eyes are shut, his eyebrows furrowed. She continues to rub his back and lean over to kiss his curls.

Finally, his eyes open and he sits back up. He secures his seatbelt and then starts the car. “Okay. Let’s go home. No wait. We have to feed you first. Then we go home.”

“We can place an order for pickup.”

“An excellent idea. Let’s do that.” He gives her a pointed look. “Pick a place and order from it. Without any fuss.”

Mia smiles. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes narrow and he leans in for a kiss. “Good.”

He puts the car in drive.

***

“Should we buy a baby name book? I saw one the other day that had a thousand in them.” Mia bites down aggressively on her crouton.

“I’m pretty sure we can agree on a name collectively,” Harry answers.

“We don’t ever agree on anything collectively.”

“Touch.”

“This is really good. Are you sure you don’t want to try it?”

He looks at the monstrosity in front of her. A caesar salad but she’s coated it with pickle relish instead, and her pasta is covered with so much cheese and oregano, he can barely see the pasta underneath. She twirls her pasta on her fork and then stabs her relish covered romaine lettuce, shoveling it all into her mouth.

“No, thank you,” he says. “I’m sure it’s…very delicious.”

“Not even my drink?”

She’s having orange Fanta to top it all off. “I’m okay, baby. You know, if we weren’t sure that you were pregnant before, we’re definitely sure now.”

“You’ve gotta remind me that I need to get a doctor’s appointment. I can get it for Friday afternoon if that works for you.”

She says it so casually, it makes him pause, his drink half way to his lips. He puts his glass down. “No. I’ll get leave for it.”

She glances at him. “You don't have to. I mean I’m sure you've got a lot to talk about with your dad and taking off in the middle of the week won’t be so good.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He frowns. “It’s time your schedule stopped depending on mine. You know what? I should start taking three days off a week.”

“You already come home early on Fridays.”

“They can survive another day without me.”

Mia shoves another crouton in her mouth. “You know I love having you in the house. Maybe if you can't get another day off, you can work from home.”

“Yes.” His mind is spinning with possibilities. “That’s a good idea too.”

“I am full of them.”

Harry takes his napkin and leans over the table, gently wiping the corner of her mouth. “You sure are.”

Mia quickly finishes up her food. Harry passes her water to have insead of the Fanta and she drinks it down quickly before getting up and walking over to his side. He spreads his legs when he sees her coming, patting his thigh. She falls into his lap easily.

“Hey,” she whispers, tucking her head against his shoulder. “I’m a little scared.”

His arms are tight around her immediately. “Of my father? Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle it.”

She holds his shirt tightly. “No it’s not that. I know you can deals with him.”

“Then what is it, baby?” He kisses her forehead and runs his fingers through her hair. “Tell me.”

She’s quiet for a moment until she says, “What if I’m not a good parent?”

“Oh, Mia.”

“I mean, I wasn’t even around kids at any point in my life. And I don’t have young siblings. I’m going to have to buy a ton of parenting books. I don’t even know anything. Did you know that you’re not supposed to warm milk up in the microwave for babies?”

Harry gently tugs her chin up so she can look at him. “Mia, between us, I think I should be the most worried about being a bad parent.”

“Harry, I know you’re going to be the best dad, and I’ve never been more confident of anything in my life. But me? I don’t know. I just learned how to start caring for myself, and sometimes it feels like I’m still learning. You’re going to be perfect though.”

He shakes his head. “There’s no such thing as a perfect parent. There’s a big difference between a good parent and a bad one though.” He takes a breath. “We are going to try our best. Right? Isn’t that all we can do?”

“Right,” she whispers, turning her face against his neck, her nose against the column of his throat. “Together.”

“Always. You said it yourself.”

She sniffles. “Are you scared too?”

“Absolutely fucking terrified. But I’m also excited. And also very relieved that it’s you I get to share this with.”

She raises her head. “Me too.” She sits up, blinking her grey, teary eyes at him. “ But I’m also sad. You’re going to be such a hot dad.” Her lip begins to wobble. “And I’m going to have to pry all the women off of you when you drop our baby off at daycare.”

Harry tries very hard not to laugh. It doesn’t seem like the appropriate time. “I will not even give them the time of day.”

“I should get a shirt that says That DILF is Mine!”

“As long as I get a matching one.”

He wipes her tears away, ruining her mascara in the process.

She sniffles some more. “I really wanted to have sex tonight but now I can’t stop crying.” She buries her face in her hands and cries harder. “This is r-really,really bad.”

Harry can’t help laughing then. He clutches her close to his chest and rests his head on hers. “Exactly how I felt yesterday.” He rubs her back as she’d done to him in the car. “It’s been a long day. It’s going to be okay. I know it’s very overwhelming.”

For some time, he lets her cry, thinking of ways to make her feel better. “Hey, I was thinking,” he finally decides, “if it’s a boy, maybe we can name him Axel.”

That gets her to stop crying. She immediately says in an icy voice, “I will divorce you.”

“Well, how about something classic like Bobby.”

She pulls away from him quickly. Her eyes are dark and annoyed, eyelashes still wet. Her nose is red, her cheeks pink. She looks like a vision. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“No?” he says innocently, wracking his brain for another terrible idea. “How about Clover for a girl?”

“You’re messing with me.”

“Delilah?”

She growls, “What is this – the early 2000s? I’m buying that baby name book tomorrow. You’re terrible at this!”

“I will admit I’m not the best at naming things. I named my cousin’s dog Pikachu.”

“You’re lying.”

He wipes her face gently. “Nope.”

“I will be naming this child.”

“I absolutely refuse to give you that right. Are you angry? Now you won’t have sex with me because you’re mad, right?”

Her eyes narrow. “On the contrary. I want to have sex with you even more now.”

Harry laughs and gathers her close, standing up. Her legs immediately wrap around his waist. “So romantic. Well, since you insist.”

She’s still going on about how terrible his name picking skills are when they arrive in their bedroom and Harry gently puts her in the middle of the bed.

He sighs dramatically, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand as he looms over her. “Well, it seems like I’m really, truly wrong. I guess the only thing I must do now is apologize.”

Mia bites down on her lower lip as Harry drops his shirt on the floor and slides his hands up her legs under her dress. She parts her thighs instinctively and tilts her head back against the ceiling. “Yes. You must.”

He hums, pushing her dress up until she grabs it from him, letting it bunch at her waist. He kisses her hip bone, then her thighs. Slowly, taking his time. He gently bites down on the flesh, growing harder at the sound of her gasp. He presses a feather light kiss to the waistband of her underwear before slowly tugging it down.

“Mia,” he says softly, slotting himself between her legs. “My sweet girl. When did you get so wet?”

She glances down at him. “Um, when you were being super hot and angry at your father in the restaurant.”

“Which was well over an hour ago?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to jump you in the car!”

“I wouldn’t have minded pulling over. Or doing this first.” He emphasizes the word when a careful lick against her. Her hands immediately fly out to grab his curls. “You know I never mind. Now.” He holds her thighs open. “Let me apologize properly.”

His fingers dig into her skin as he slids his tongue over her again. He relaxes into the mattress, encouraged by her strained groans and tight hold on his hair. He knows Mia well. He could do this in his sleep. He knows exactly what types of touches she likes, when she likes it rough, or when she prefers to be teased. He could stay here between her legs for hours, days even, submitting to her in whichever way she pleases. His heart thunders in his chest at the promise of forever. He’ll have her like this, exposed, and he’ll be at her mercy. All that she’s done for him, all that she’s tolerated. How much she’s fixed him. If only he could repay her.

“So good,” she whimpers under him, raising his hips against his mouth to create more friction. He focuses his attention on her clit and then slowly presses two fingers into her, listening to her gasp at the penetration. “I love you. Oh I love you. I love you. I love you-”

All the discomfort he’s felt today is suddenly gone. All he’s aware of is Mia. He’s wrapped up in her. He’s all hers. Hasn’t he always been? He closes his eyes and loses himself in the sounds she’s making, her heavy breathing, and the taste of her on his tongue. He’s never had any issue in losing himself in Mia.

It’s just him and her. 

He couldn’t be more happy.

#harry and mia #harry styles fic #i'm posting this from the train #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x oc #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au

[multicolour-ink]

Got bored and in my weary state I decided to write a rough draft from the Mermaid AU.

Takes place in the prequel. No guarantees that this will ever make it in - or be the same - I just wanted to write something.

Note: Annette is a woman in the village Mia lives in.

* * *

The young woman was flushed.

"Mia...does this mean...? Are those kids really yours?"

Mia nodded earnestly. The woman before her took a step back, her face white as if she had been given terrible news of someone dying.

"But that means..." Annette shook her head. "Oh Mia how could you let him touch you?!"

"By trusting him?", replied Mia, as it was the most logical answer.

"But how...", Annette stammered with great difficulty. "How did he...?"

"He used a spell!", said Mia.

Annette shook her head.

"A spell?! Magic?! What other things did he use on you?!"

"Nothing of the sort!", said Mia going pink.

"Mia", Annette said, her voice shaking. "These beings do not mix with us. They haven't for decades! They are not people! They have no concept of love -"

"Stop!", cried Mia. She refused to let the woman speak any further.

"You all may not understand, but you never talked to him. I did. And he's wonderful."

He was more than wonderful, Mia thought. He was a salvation that she never realised she needed. And he could love, no doubt more than any human she could've fallen for.

She could never get out of her mind the way he laughed with her when they talked. The way he held her gaze when they danced. The way he kissed her.

And the way he held her body against his own, his hands gliding smoothly over every curve -

"MIA!"

She was suddenly startled back to the present by Annette's harsh cry. Shaking her head she composed herself.

"Don't understand, if you don't want to", she said, addressing the woman again. "But right now, I'm only concerned for my kids! If the village finds them, they'll kill them. I can't let that happen. I need to keep them safe. Even if it means I can't see them."

She said all of this is a rush. A passionate speech that came from a place that desired nothing more than to protect.

"Those are my babies!", she declared. "I'll fight the village all by myself for them if I have to."

Annette was listening, her posture stiff and her jaw locked.

"Alright", she said. "Tell me what I can do to help."

#super mario #mia mario #mama mario #pio mario #papa mario #(mentioned) #mario #luigi #mermaid au #rough draft #drafts #fanfiction #fanfic #oc #multicolour ink writes #my writing

[glowinggreeneyes-e]

BBC Ghosts Coda - Christmas 2023 spoilers ahead

Alison knows she’s dying. It’s been like that for a while, but now it’s time. Call it a ‘sense of impending doom’ or whatever, though, it’s been bad news for months, or years, or a few hours. She can’t tell of much with any certainty except that she is dying.

And the Higham Suite is waiting for her. Pristine. Cosy. Home. Bone House; Higham House; Button House; now Horsley Hotel. It was still home. Albeit booked on a rolling fee.

She doesn’t intend on staying long, though.

She doesn’t tell anyone, but Mia quickly catches on when the letters started piling up, the concerned neighbours started calling, and her mother’s voice sounded slower over the phone, words pinched together like wet clay.

And she tracks her mum’s phone, obviously (she never learnt how to turn off ‘Find My’). Mia is grateful for that. Her mum never wanted to be worried about. Even if it was time for her to be cared for.

Alison held Mike’s hand for the last time nearly a decade back. Now Mia’s holding hers, together in that sacred room in that gorgeous, special house, made a home by the spirits that live on there. Mia doesn’t see the others around them, but her mum is talking to the air like she sometimes does and she knows she’s not insane. Just ill… dying.

Mia sobs. Alison squeezes her hand and turns her pillow-cuddled head to talk to her.

She talks until the sun sets and rises, until birds bother the morning air with song and their wings, until her clay words melt into a drowsy mould of sentiment, then slowly melt away.

Alison closes her eyes and Mia squeezes her hand.

When Alison looks around again, she doesn’t feel the digging, wretched pain in her rotten ribs and struggling heart. She doesn’t feel the throbbing headache that crowned her skull. She can sit up, breathe, fill a chest that isn’t really there. She’s more alive than the illness that tried to best her, even if she’s not a tangible spectre to the living.

And she sees her friends are there still waiting. Her ghosts. Her family. She can hold Kitty’s hands and feel Robin’s coat and grip the Captain’s swagger stick and pull on Pat’s tie and hold Humphrey’s head. She doesn’t touch Lady Button, a nod and a knowing smile suffice. She doesn’t allow Thomas to touch her, but the years have mellowed and jaded him, so courtesy thumbs up does the job.

Finally, she asks Julian to push over the cup of water on the table beside her body.

Mia is driven from her grief by the signal. She smiles, glances around the seemingly empty room, and tells them all she’ll be back at Christmas.

#is this too soon?? #writing #coda #bbc ghosts spoilers #ficlet #alison #bbc ghosts #mia #death #fanfic #christmas episode #idk how to tag this #angst #bittersweet #sorry!!! #cast

[myseungsunglove]

So I did a thing.

The Master of Flirting is going to be a FIVE PART SERIES maybe even longer, we will see!

1. Chapter 1 - The Master of Flirting - The reader and Chan forge an unlikely connection and bond and venture into territory that is unfamiliar to both. 

2. The Mystery of You - Over a six day stretch before leaving for LA, the reader gets to know Bang Chan, becoming more excited about meeting him with each passing day. She also develops a special connection with two other members of Stray Kids as well.

3. The Art of Meeting - the reader and Chan are meeting up after their unlikely connection via bubble and instagram. The reader is heading to KCon to meet Chan and the boys. Will this meeting be everything she hoped for or make matters more complicated than she imagined? - September 3rd

4. The Complication of Connection- This will be the aftermath of their meeting in LA. It will continue right where part 3 leaves off. I smell our conflict brewing. More details to come because I don’t want to give it all away.

5. Title 5 TBD - This will be what becomes of this special connection between the reader and Bang Chan.

Hopefully those of you who enjoyed the first part will be excited to hear that I’m making this a series. I figured there was much more of this story to tell than I initially had planned. So, lucky you, you get my first series!

I can’t believe my first series is going to be about Channie. *hides in Seungmin and Han ult*

#bang Chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fic #bang chan imagines #bang chan series #the master flirt #Mia writes a series

[slotmachines-fearofgod]

sorry in advance, this IS angst. not proofread or edited heavily since it's just a WIP, but y'all have been patient with me so i figured it could be a little treat :3 let me know what you think in the comments!

—

The day that Marshal Commander Cody died was an entirely unremarkable one. 

It had been a busy market square in the Outer Rim. Closer to Tatooine that anyone would’ve liked. A raider’s run, soldiers and slavers clashing to defend or steal the people there. It was a common occurrence, the people there later revealed to Obi-Wan. 

Cody, in all his stubborn glory, put himself between the people of that planet and the raiders trying to take them. He got cornered, got shot, got left for dead. Rex didn’t know why he hadn’t called for help, hadn’t had the chance to ask anyone and hadn’t been able to stomach reading the report. 

Obi-Wan delivered the news to him. Rex delivered it to the batch. Only then did Obi-Wan file the official paperwork.

Fives had been hovering for the past few days. So had a few others, but especially him. Rex had thrown himself head first into work, giving himself little time to rest or come back to himself. 

Anakin and Obi-Wan approached him to offer Cody’s old position at Obi-Wan’s side. He was one of the most qualified and knew how Obi-Wan thought. He’d seen Cody’s day to day and knew what would be expected of him. 

Rex had politely refused and excused himself to go throw up in the fresher.

Rex had never really had a batch. He did, but he was weird. Different from them. Difference was deadly on Kamino. 

It had been Cody that found him, Cody that took him under his wing, Cody that taught him the importance of brotherhood and loyalty. He took an angry fucked up kid and made something worthy out of him and for that Rex would never be able to repay him. 

In the quiet of his room, the rare hours that he allowed himself sleep, he stared at the ceiling with tired eyes, unable to find rest. He stared and thought. Thought about the man Cody was. Thought about how Rex would’ve done anything for him. Thought about how he’d never see him again. 

Thought about how that was his big brother. Thought about how he used to think Cody was invincible. 

During their very brief time as children, Cody was untouchable. He was smart as all hell, good at getting in and out of trouble quicker than you could blink, and egregiously annoying about it. He used to tease Rex about coming back with a blush on his cheeks and a scowling trainer, boasting about how he wouldn’t have gotten caught. 

He’d only ever gotten caught for Rex’s sake. Once, when Rex had really fucked up, Cody took the fall. He left with the trainers, coming back hours later bruised and beaten from the extra training they forced on him. He’d met Rex with a wide smile and an arm around his shoulders, crowing about how Rex should see the other guy. Rex hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry. 

Fives had been hovering. Even now, he sat in Rex’s office while Rex worked, uncharacteristically quiet. He was scanning through mission reports, actually doing his work for once. 

It was sort of nice to have another body with him. To not have the crushing loneliness take him. 

It had occurred to him a few days after Cody’s death that Rex was alone now. Not truly, never truly alone, not while other clones existed. But still lonely. 

He’d always had his big brother with him, taking the fall for him, protecting him. He had memories of life before Cody, but they were fuzzy and far away, like remnants of a dream. The day Cody shoved himself into what he thought was an unoccupied storage closet to escape Fox’s wrath, only to bump into a small and sulky CT was the day Rex’s life changed for the better. It was easy with Cody. They knew each other. He always stood in front of Rex in the most annoying ways.

He thought he lost Cody once before. Before he’d grown used to death and the silence that accompanied it. Cody took a shot for him on Geonosis. Rex had never been so angry and he’d never felt so loved. 

I’m your brother, Cody had said, I’ll always take the shot for you. Stop acting like that’s a surprise.

Rex had gone back and cried. It was before he had Torrent and the 501st. Back when it really was just him and Cody. He hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of Cody going without him. Hadn’t been able to breathe when he thought about his brother dying, leaving Rex alone to fend for himself. 

It felt vulnerable in a way Rex hadn’t expected. Like all this time Cody had been a pillar of protection and without it Rex was left to the wolves. He couldn’t flip on his comm and shoot Cody a message asking for advice. He couldn’t wander to the 212th bunks during shore leave to catch up with him and complain about his Jedi. He’d never get to see if Cody would grow a pair and confess to Obi-Wan. He’d never get to spend the end of the war with his brother, endless days under some gentle far off sun. 

They’d made plans when they were kids about what they’d do once they left. It was the only promise Rex allowed himself to make. He knew there were no absolutes in war, but so long as he had the list and he had Cody to check it off with, he was okay.

They’d gotten less than halfway through when Cody died. 

Fives’ comm beeped and Rex watched his brow furrow. Rex thought about what he’d do if Fives died. He honestly didn’t know.

Fives looked up at him, took in his demeanor, and his face relaxed. Rex had gotten too transparent with everything going on. 

“I’m heading out,” Rex said, the hoarseness in his voice surprising even him, “I’ll be back by dinner.”

“I’ll come with,” Fives said quickly, already getting to his feet, “Where are we going?”

“Meeting,” Rex said, closing out of his work, “It’s above your security level.” It wasn’t, it wasn’t even a meeting, but Fives would insist if he told him that.

“I’ll talk to the General then,” Fives said, “I’m sure it’ll be fine this once.”

“Fives,” Rex started, before hesitating and backtracking, “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Fives’ face hardened and he crossed his arms, “Rex -”

“I’ll see you later,” Rex sighed, his armor feeling like it weighed two hundred pounds, “Try to wrap up those reports while I’m gone.”

Fives jaw clenched but he nodded. Rex appreciated that about him. He knew when to push and when to let things lie. Many people thought he was brash, charging in with no regard to his surroundings. Rex always felt the opposite. He liked to push, yes, and he liked to get his way, but he only pushed when it was needed. When he was seeing something Rex wasn’t. 

He reminded Rex a little bit of Cody sometimes. 

Rex often wondered if it had been Cody and Fives on Umbara instead of him. He wondered if Pong Krell would’ve been able to take them apart the way he did. Those two were strong in ways he wasn’t.

Rex left his office, fixing his helmet over his head as he went. They’d landed on Coruscant two days ago, four days after Cody’s death. Rex hadn’t left the bunkhouse for anything except food and a summons to the Jedi Temple. 

He took a breath as he exited the complex, hating the weight of his kama as he moved. 

Cody never had a kama. Everyone mocked and made fun of him for it except Fox. Rex always thought there was some unspoken agreement between those two, some burden their ranks afforded them that the rest were all kept from. Rex had never been jealous of their relationship until now. 

He made it to the Coruscant Guard Complex almost unconsciously, too caught up in his own head to follow his feet until suddenly he was standing at the entrance. A trooper in red nodded at him from the front desk. Rex nodded back, taking a seat in the waiting area.

It wasn’t long before Fox came down, also in his full kit. He greeted Rex as warmly as he ever does, which is to say not very, and gestured for him to follow. 

“Almost everyone else is here,” Fox said as they walked side by side through the winding hallways, “Just missing Bly.”

“So you mean Wolffe is here,” Rex attempted to joke. Fox’s nonanswer was all he needed to know that it fell flat.

Sometimes Rex thought about Fives and his batch. Watching it shrink piece by piece, losing and losing and losing until all you have is yourself. Between Cody and Ponds, he was beginning to understand it better than he wanted to. 

“I’m sorry,” Rex said quietly, one of the overhead lights flickering as they passed.

Fox waved him off, “Gallows humor. It’s understandable.”

They walked in silence for another five minutes, the white lights painting everything in a stark light. Shadows were almost non-existent here, only lurking behind closed doors and corners the unnatural light couldn’t quite reach. It was too harsh. 

Rex entered Fox’s office, taking a look around the space. It hadn’t changed much since the last time he’d been here. There was still an old, cheap looking couch in one corner, a massive desk piled high with flimsiwork and datapads, windows that overlooked the Senate Complex, and if he had to wager a guess at least three blasters hidden in the room. 

Wolffe was currently sitting on the couch, already nursing a glass of whatever Fox managed to get his hands on this time. Pros of dealing with criminals everyday, Rex supposed. Still, Wolffe looked about as bad as Rex felt. 

He hadn’t been invited to this after Ponds’ death, instead meeting up with the batch at 79s after they had their initial wake. He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to go. 

“Rex’ika,” Wolffe greeted, standing to pour Rex a drink, “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks,” Rex said gruffly, “for inviting me.”

Wolffe shrugged, his back to Rex, “You were his vod’ika. Pretty sure he’d come back from the dead to kill us if we didn’t invite you.”

Rex gave the best laugh he could.

Fox moved past him, pulling off his helmet. Rex followed suit, placing his on a small table next to the couch as he accepted the drink from Wolffe. Fox looked like hell, as per usual. He had a bruise forming under his right eye, his broken nose that never quite healed right standing out more than usual next to it. He had a new scar on his jaw, a small thin line that Rex probably wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t looking. 

“Prison riot,” Fox grumbled when he saw Rex looking, “Got a little out of control.” Rex nodded, accepting the answer without a fight. If Fox wanted to tell them more, he’d tell them more. 

Rex moved to the couch, sitting on the opposite end of Wolffe. The elder got a temper, especially in cases like this, and Rex didn’t want to be next to him when it inevitably showed itself. 

“How’s the 501st?” Fox asked, more of a polite formality than anything else. It struck Rex how weird this situation was. Normally Cody was there, a binding force that meshed two parts of his life seamlessly. It was never awkward or centered around small talk when he was there but now - now it was like they had nothing but small talk.

“Good,” Rex said simply, sipping his drink and doing his best not to make a face, “We’ve got a few more being sent off for ARC training soon and I’m working on proposing a few initiatives to the admirals about restrictions regarding eating habits.”

“Restrictions?” Wolffe asked, a puzzled look on his face, “What for?”

Rex shrugged, relaxing into the cushions, “Some of the heavy gunners and ARC troopers are complaining that their meal plans aren’t being switched to a higher protein intake despite their intensive training. I’m working with the Commander to get that fixed.”

He’d worked with Cody on it too.

Fox made a considering noise before saying, “The ration restrictions in general are a pain in the ass already.”

Wolffe raised an eyebrow at them, “General Koon got rid of those the second month of the war. What’s taking your people so long?”

“Palpatine.”

“Anakin.”

Fox and Rex made eye contact, a smile pulling at the corners of Fox’s lips. It seemed Palpatine’s influence had rubbed off after all. 

“The chancellor I understand,” Wolffe continued, “But General Skywalker?”

Rex shrugged again, “He’s more concerned with action, less so politics. Doesn’t like to get involved on the administrative level aside from the fight.”

Wolffe scoffed, “Sounds like a shit general.”

Rex smiled wryly, “He does alright. General Kenobi’s been helping.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes, “The 212th can’t be expected to step in everytime Skywalker throws a hissy fit over paperwork.”

“They don’t,” Rex said, a somewhat bitter smile on his face, “I do.”

Wolffe grunted but let the subject be for the time being. 

Fox turned to face Rex, “Skywalker visits Palpatine often.”

Rex nodded. 

“What’s that relationship like?” Fox asked, looking at Rex with a strange light in his eyes. 

Rex took another sip before answering, “I’m not sure. I get the feeling it’s complicated between him, Kenobi, and Palpatine. Everytime Kenobi and Palpatine interact I feel like they’re about to start brawling.”

“But Skywalker,” Fox pushed, “What’s his thoughts on it?”

“I guess he’s fine with it,” Rex said, “I mean, he wouldn’t be going to see him so often if it wasn’t.”

“And you?” Fox asked, “How does he treat you?”

Rex narrowed his eyes as he looked at Fox, “Why?”

Wolffe spoke up, “He’s a paranoid bastard, just answer him.”

Rex glared at Wolffe before turning back to Fox, “He’s fine. It’s fine. We get along well and the Commander and I are on good terms.”

Fox’s shoulders, which Rex had not realized were previously tensed, relaxed, “Good. Glad to hear it.”

Fox’s comm chimed. He looked down to read over the message before excusing himself to go retrieve Bly from the lobby. Rex watching him go, an alarm bell going off in the back of his head.

“Is he okay?” Rex asked Wolffe once the door closed. 

Wolffe stared after Fox, an unsettling look on his face. It was times like this that Rex was reminded of how close Wolffe and Fox were. If Rex noticed something was off, Wolffe certainly had as well. 

“He’s fine,” Wolffe said, something like steel in his tone, “As fine as the rest of us.”

Rex hid his wince. He supposed that was fair enough. Like he said, Cody and Fox had always understood each other on a different level.

“You?” Wolffe asked after a moment of silence. Rex looked at him, confusion written clearly across his face. Wolffe sighed, “How are you doing?”

“Oh,” Rex looked back down at his drink. He hadn’t really expected them to ask. “I’m fine.”

“Right,” Wolffe drawled, knocking back the rest of his drink. He stood and snagged the bottle from Fox’s desk, bringing it over to the couch to refill. “I won’t even pretend to believe that.”

Rex frowned as he nursed his drink, “There’s not much for me to say that you’re not already thinking.”

Wolffe scrubbed a hand over his face, “Look, kid, I’m trying to help you out here. Offer you a willow branch or whatever the saying is. You can’t be honest with the Jedi and you can’t be honest with your men so be honest with us.”

Rex bit the inside of his cheek, weighing Wolffe’s offer. He supposed that was the point of this meeting, to talk and memorialize and be honest. He rubbed his eye before saying, “He’s my big brother. My only brother, for a while there. What do you think?”

Wolffe leaned back, satisfied with his answer, “We’re your brothers too.”

“Yeah,” Rex agreed, “But you know it was different.”

“I know.”

Rex stared at the little scratches in his glass and wondered how many times Fox had pulled these out for similar situations. He wasn’t a big drinker, as far as Rex knew. He preferred to keep his head in order to better deal with senators and politicians. But these glasses told a different story. 

“I used to wonder what he saw in you,” Rex looked up at Wolffe, only to find the other’s gaze fixed on the window across from them, “What did you have that our batch couldn’t give him? Then I realized it wasn’t about giving. It never was with Cody.”

“I wondered that too,” Rex admitted softly, following Wolffe’s line of sight to the Jedi Temple, “I still think he just felt bad for me.”

Wolffe laughed sharply, “Probably. At least, initially. But he liked you enough to keep it going.”

Rex felt his mouth lift slightly into a smile, “I’m better for it.”

Wolffe hummed in agreement and they fell into a comfortable silence. It was easier now that he had other people that knew Cody. That weren’t just eyeing him like they were waiting for him to snap. He wasn’t going to snap, largely because he already had, and the constant handling had been getting on his nerves more than he realized. 

He’d gone down the night he got the news and whaled on a punching bag. He made it back to his quarters with bloody knuckles before collapsing and sobbing on the floor, crying for Cody like a child. He’d been ashamed of it the next morning, the physical evidence of a break that he shouldn’t have had blatant under the fluorescent light. He’d applied bacta from the stash in his room and slid on his gloves, hiding the winces that came everytime he flexed his fingers and raw skin rubbed up against the material. 

He looked at Wolffe from the corner of his eye, wondering what his reaction had been after they hung up the call. Bly Fox and Wolffe had answered with varying degrees of annoyance before seeing the look on Rex’s face. He was pretty sure Fox knew before he said anything, but Bly and Wolffe had both been caught off guard. 

Fox listened, offered his condolences, and hung up. None of them held it against him. Sometimes that was just the way Fox was. 

Bly and Wolffe stayed on the call, wanting to hear the how, when, and why. Bly shut down pretty quickly, compartmentalizing as fast as he could. Rex couldn’t blame him, that was his initial reaction as well. He’d told Obi-Wan thank you and assured Anakin he’d be fine before abruptly ending the call on them. 

Wolffe looked angry. He looked angry and scared and Rex knew from dealing with others that was not a good combination. He’d heard a knock on the door just before Wolffe hung up, suspecting it to be his general. Rex didn’t bother following up on that, figured either it was or it wasn’t and no matter which it was it wasn’t his business. 

“I keep thinking I see him,” Wolffe admitted to the silence of the room, “Now that the 212th has landed it’s like he’s everywhere.”

Rex winced, remembering his own reaction. The flashes of orange and yellow filling the bunkhouse, each one a reminder, a possibility, a failure. 

“It’s hard to move on like this,” Rex agreed, “When we all look like him. Talk like him.”

Wolffe snorted, “No one talks like him, not since Kenobi got his hands on him. Cody learned a bunch of big words and used it to sound like the smartest guy in the room.”

Rex dipped his head to hide his smile, “He’s always been competitive.”

“You’re telling me,” Wolffe grumbled into his drink, “You didn’t meet him before he developed a conscience.”

The door slid open, revealing Fox and Bly on the other side. Rex gave Bly a weak smile, he returned it with about the same level of enthusiasm. Rex let the greetings fade into the background, choosing instead to top off his drink as Bly settled in next to him. Rex poured another drink for Bly and handed it off, just trying to keep himself busy. 

“What did you two talk about while I was gone?” The question drew Rex back into the conversation. He looked up at Fox, who’d taken off his helmet again, before looking at Wolffe.

“What do you think?” Wolffe drawled, unbuckling his vambraces now that everyone was there.

Fox sighed and claimed a spot on the floor, leaning against his desk for support, “Just wondering. Maybe you finally met someone desperate enough to give you a shot, I don’t know.”

“Fuck you,” Wolffe sneered, “I’m a real treasure I’ll have you know.”

Fox rolled his eyes and turned his attention to his drink, apparently not feeling like putting up much of a fight. Rex was glad for it. 

The room fell uncomfortably silent, all of them looking at each other and thinking the same thing. 

It was too cold in here.

They were pessimists. All except Bly, but you wouldn’t have guessed that based on outward appearance. Every single one of them lived day to day, putting one foot in front of the other, and expecting every ounce of blood that swam around their ankles. 

Cody hadn’t disbelieved that, but he’d always been different. He wasn’t - Rex wouldn’t have described him as an optimist. But he knew how to be happy. He knew how to let himself go a little bit, balance the soldier and the person with effortless grace. The rest of them had never really mastered that without having help. Usually the help was Cody. 

He was just good with people. Good at being a person. Good at being something other than what he was engineered to be. Cody was the closest to ‘human’ most of them would ever get. 

Now, sitting in this cold office holding a glass of moonshine and staring at men that he’s suddenly not sure he’s ever really known, Rex felt like Cody was further away than ever. 

Bly cleared his throat, raising his glass, “To Kote. May he march on under the light of the Manda, guided forever by his wit and warrior’s heart.”

They drank, the swill burning more than Rex remembered from the past few sips. The silence returned, heavy and oppressive. Rex’s chest felt heavy, like a weight had been placed upon him since Obi-Wan first called him and now it threatened to suffocate him. 

“How’d you find out?” It took Rex a moment to realize Bly was addressing him. He looked up, reading an innocent curiosity on Bly’s face. “I assume Skywalker told you?”

Rex shook his head, “Kenobi.”

Bly sucked in a breath and nudged his shoulder in sympathy, “How soon after?”

Rex shrugged, his gaze going to the opposite wall, “About three hours.”

“How’d he break it to you?” Wolffe asked, stretching an arm out over the back of the couch.

Rex gripped his glass a little tighter, looking back down at it, “As best as he could. He asked me to pass the news along to you three before he filed the report.”

“Thank you,” Bly said, “I know it was a tough call.”

Rex ducked his head, not trusting the way his throat had begun to close up. The last thing he wanted to do here was cry. 

“Alright,” Fox drawled, “Enough of the downer stuff. If he’s going to die on us the least we can do is rip him to shreds at his own wake.”

Rex huffed a laugh while Wolffe sent a sharp grin Fox’s way. Bly rolled his eyes but a small smile played at his lips. It was unconventional, and not the way Cody would’ve broached the subject, but it worked. 

“Anyone got any pact stories?” Wolffe asked with a sly smile.

Pact stories were unique to this batch as far as Rex could tell. Instances or happenings from their training or later careers that were sworn to be kept between two members until one of them died. Cody and Rex had a few of their own, a few secrets and adventures that they both swore up and down they would never voice unless the other was dead and gone. It was funny, Rex had never thought he’d be the one telling them.

“He had a crush on Shaak-Ti,” Bly said proudly, cutting off Fox who’d opened his mouth to speak. “Remember when she came to see the commanders off? He gave her his comm code.”

Rex bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He had remembered Cody pulling the Jedi aside to speak with her, but it looked like a serious conversation so he hadn’t asked. 

“We only knew Shaak-Ti for a month before being shipped out!” Wolffe said incredulously, “He’s an idiot.”

Bly smiled toothily, leaning back now that his bit was done. Fox sat up with a sparkle in his eye, his expression spelling nothing but trouble. 

“Do you guys remember the weapons ring on Kamino? The one the Cuy’val Dar set up that the Kaminoans pretend didn’t exist?”

Rex did indeed remember it. A lot of the Cuy’val Dar were bounty hunters at one point or at least followed Mandalorian traditions. They complained about Kamino’s mass manufactured weapons, calling them cheap and useless. Rex wasn’t sure where it started, but one day he remembered seeing trainers walking around with shiny new blasters, bo staffs, and vibroblades. 

“Well,” Fox grinned into his cup, “Cody found where they kept the weapons. He didn’t tell me until about a week after, during the sleep deprivation training.”

Rex remembered how much Cody hated that training. He was incredibly physically and mentally strong, but the man had a thing about sleep. He hated missing out on it, going so far as to nap in active warzones when he could if he’d missed his baseline minimum hours the night before. 

“We sabotaged them,” Fox’s face morphed into one of malicious glee, one they were all intimately familiar with but hadn’t seen much recently, “Did just enough damage that nothing worked but they couldn’t prove anything without going to the Kaminoans for help. And the Kaminoans only turned a blind eye because no one talked about it. They had to buy the whole shipment over again.”

Wolffe whistled, mirth in his eyes as well. It was expensive getting things shipped out to Kamino, even more so when you’re paying for discretion. It was a good move on Fox and Cody’s part. Rex would’ve given anything to see the look in the Cuy’val Dar’s eyes when they saw what happened. 

Rex finished his drink and reached for the bottle as Wolffe took his turn to speak, “One time he kidnapped a padawan.”

Bly started coughing, his face turning red as he pounded his chest while Rex and Fox stared at Wolffe. 

“He did what?”

Wolffe grinned, smug as you please, now that he had everyone’s attention, “We were at 79s together, Fox had a meeting and everyone else was on a campaign or mission, and we ended up pretty much blacking out. Cut to the next morning, I’m laying in my bunk with the worst headache known to man and the first thing I see is my general standing over me very firmly asking where the padawan is. I had no clue what they were talking about, so I pointed them to Cody.”

Wolffe paused to take a swig while Rex took a second to muse over that mental image. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Skywalker woke him up by looming over his bed frame after a night out. Probably yell for Ahsoka. 

“Well turns out they can’t find Cody,” Wolffe continued, the rest all leaning in, “And one of my boys told them that we’d been together. So we went to the Temple and pulled up security footage from the night before and there’s Cody, cooing over this little red head human who was about a third of his size. The poor kid was crying and it looked like Cody was trying to help but it wasn’t really working. Anyway, we followed the cameras and realized the padawan had led Cody out. Poor bastard was too drunk to know what was going on.”

Rex snorted, imagining a wobbly Cody being led by a little kid with a snotty nose and big eyes. It was the kind of routine that Rex can absolutely imagine working on his brother. 

“I went back to the bunks to wait and eventually Cody comes back a few hours later looking like hell. I asked him what happened and he just went,” Wolffe pulled himself upright to a proper soldier’s posture and puffed out his chest a little more than necessary, “That’s classified. You’ll have to ask Commander Dume for the full report. So that’s what I did. Turns out the kid led him to a late night food court and he spent over one hundred credits on him.”

Bly and Fox cackled while Rex laughed and shook his head. Honestly, Rex was a little impressed by the kid. He had guts, that’s for sure. 

“Anyway, Kenobi paid him back for everything but I swear Cody hid from that kid everytime he saw him afterward.”

“Isn’t that General Billaba’s padawan?” Bly asked, still laughing a little. Wolffe nodded in confirmation and Bly’s laughter picked up again as he pulled up his comm. “I have got to tell Grey about this.”

Rex chewed on the inside of his lip, wanting to tell his story but also unsure. He wanted to keep at least a part of Cody for himself. 

But the other three were looking at him and Rex was reminded that for as much as he was grieving, so were they. Cody might’ve been special to him, but his brother had a lot of people on his side. They’d shared willingly, it would be selfish of him not to.

“He tried to distract a Seppie senator by flirting with him,” Rex said quickly, automatically uncomfortable with the way everyone’s head turned his way. “We were on a diplomatic mission and the Jedi were getting up to something or other.” It had been on Mandalore, actually. He was pretty sure Obi-Wan and Satine had been fooling around and it was Cody’s way of getting petty revenge during a very important political ceasefire. 

“Skywalker asked us to keep the guards busy so I made up a story about needing help about something or other, but we ran into a senator on the way over. So Cody, in his full kit, decides the best way to distract him from asking too many questions was to flirt with him.” Rex smiled a little bit, remembering how horribly embarrassed he’d been in that moment watching everything happen. “As you can imagine, it didn’t go well.”

Wolffe’s laugh was practically a bark as he said, “What you mean the officer of the GAR flirting with a Separatist senator didn’t go over smoothly?”

Rex shook his head, “Well, the issue was that he started flirting back.”

Fox seemed to catch on, his jaw dropping slightly and a shocked look flitting across his face, “Please tell me he didn’t actually…”

Rex bit his lip but gave a tiny nod. A chorus of yells echoed from the other three before Rex intervened, “It didn’t get far! Cody made up an excuse and left and swore me to secrecy and that was that.”

Fox and Wolffe looked at each other, surprise still written on their faces. Bly finished his drink and grabbed another while Rex grinned. 

“That’s…” Bly sighed into his cup, looking disappointed, “Actually yeah that sounds like him.”

Rex laughed, his head starting to feel a little fuzzy. It was a good buzz, the atmosphere having lightened significantly now that they were more focused on happier things. He settled into the couch, cradling his glass close to him. Maybe Cody wasn’t here, and maybe he was. Maybe he could keep him alive and with him, just for one more night. 

—

Rex did not make it back in time for dinner. He’d answered Fives’ call drunk off his ass and assured him he was getting a walk back to the GAR complex and then stayed for about five more hours, drinking and talking and laughing for the first time in days. 

Eventually, he had to go. The 501st was taking off the day after next and Rex would be needed to oversee the usual pre-takeoff duties. That and Fives had gotten Kix on his case as well and he really didn’t want them to physically drag him away. That would put a damper on the night. 

Rex sighed as he left the Guard compound, his escort for the night graciously allowing him to lean against him. He stood at the doors, feeling the rare Coruscanti wind on his face and the cool night air hit him. It helped sober him a little, get rid of some of his haze. 

“Ready to go sir?” His escort, a kid named Rune, asked.

He nodded, moving to put on his helmet before deciding against it. On the off chance he had to throw up before he could reach a fresher he really didn’t want to have to clean it out of his helmet. 

They walked in silence for a bit, passing through the large stone structures that marked the entrance to this place. Rex didn’t get how Fox could stand being here. Everything was so enclosed, so ominous, so statuesque. It was too perfect, like someone was trying too hard to cover up something ugly. 

Rex’s eyes drifted to the Geonosis memorial, as they always did. The names and numbers of every clone and Jedi that died during the battle were engraved on that stone, a mass etching that spoke of death, sacrifice, and war. 

He had a batcher that died during the fight. He’d been surprised to be so upset over it, especially considering the distance that he himself created between them. But it had been there nonetheless, a little ball of grief that sat just behind his ribs. He wondered if he could find his number on the stone. He hadn’t lived long enough to earn a name.

Rex slowed in front of the memorial, searching for…something. He wasn’t sure what. 

“Captain?”

Rex turned his head to the side at the quiet call. It sounded small and shaky.

It didn’t sound like it belonged to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“General,” Rex said, doing his best not to slur. He remembered a second too late that he was supposed to salute the man, but Kenobi waved away the motion before Rex could complete it. He looked awful. There were bags under his eyes, his normally perfectly styled hair was greasy and unkempt, and he smelled like he’d spent a week in a brewery in the Outer Rim. 

“Rex,” Kenobi said. Rex waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, just stared at Rex with sad, sad eyes and an expression of despair. 

“It’s me,” Rex confirmed, walking closer to the other man, “I was seeing a friend.”

Kenobi nodded, his eyes going back to the wall in front of them. It was odd. Rex didn’t think anyone but clones ever bothered to look at this.

“Are you alright sir?” Rex asked, turning to face the wall as well. 

“Please don’t call me that,” Kenobi whispered, his face scrunching up like he’d gotten a taste of something sour, “I don’t - I’m not that right now.”

Rex furrowed his brow, not sure what he was referring to. Oh well. He’d figure it out later. He was too tired and too drunk for that right now.

“But are you?” Rex pressed, the giddiness from his evening beginning to vanish.

Kenobi laughed, a wet, hopeless sound that grated on Rex’s ears, “Are you?”

Rex shrugged, “I don’t know.” It was the truth. He didn’t know how he felt. His mood had been switching too quickly for even him to keep up. 

Kenobi made another painful noise but didn’t answer. Rex shifted, looking back at Rune who was staying a respectful distance away. He didn’t want to waste too much of his time. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” the words were falling out of Rex’s mouth before he could stop them. He knew Kenobi probably blamed himself, knew Wolffe and Fox and Bly all did too. But they didn’t see what Rex saw. Kenobi would’ve done anything for Cody, including jumping in front of that blaster for him. He would’ve done it, if he were able.

Kenobi didn’t respond but his eyes shone in the ever-present light of the planet. Rex wasn’t used to such a blatant display of vulnerability from the other man. Kenobi was always snappy, witty, ducking and dodging through conversations as artfully as he did battles. 

Kenobi sucked in a ragged breath before saying, “We made plans. For after the war.”

Rex tried not to feel jealous about that. Tried not to think about the plans he and Cody had made so long ago, worlds away from this one, back when they had chubby cheeks and missing teeth, whispering under the blankets after curfew. 

“What plans?” Rex croaked. Kenobi needed an outlet, as Rex had earlier. He could do that for him. For Cody’s sake. 

Kenobi hummed, gathering his thoughts. Rex turned back to Rune and jerked his head back toward the complex. The younger hesitated, but Rex gave him a reassuring look and purposefully pointed at Kenobi. Rune nodded after a second and turned, pulling up his comm, likely to contact Fox and let him know what happened. 

“I wanted to take him to Kashyyyk,” Kenobi whispered, pulling Rex’s focus back, “He always loved the forests the most.”

Rex thought about that for a moment. Cody and Kenobi, away from the Jedi and the GAR, pulling each other headfirst into a new adventure every day, waking up to the sounds of birdsong and sun on their faces. 

It sounded like the kind of life Cody would’ve liked. 

Rex told him so and Kenobi smiled weakly, “I would’ve followed wherever he wanted to go.”

Rex’s eyes burned abruptly, the emotion he’d been trying to avoid so fiercely surfacing now. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision and realizing too late Kenobi was still speaking. 

“-you all the time,” Kenobi’s eyes scanned the stone, taking in the many many casualties they’d suffered, “He loved you more than anything.”

It felt like all the air had been punched out of Rex’s chest. He didn’t want to hear that, not from the man that Cody had spent long hours pining over and making plans for every chance he got. He didn’t want to hear that from the man that was supposed to be Cody’s everything.

“Did he ever tell you?” Rex asked weakly, knowing the answer to his question. Still, he looked at Kenobi, just in case.

“No,” Kenobi said softly, a tear slipping down his face, “But I knew. We both knew.”

And that - that felt like getting hit by a freighter. Cody had known all this time. He’d known and still he’d held himself back, refused to allow himself even one small pleasure while lives were at risk. 

Rex wished his brother was a selfish man. He wished with all his might that Cody had been a little more cowardly, a little more covetous, a little less heroic. He wished Cody would’ve taken something for himself for once.

Rex ignored the hot tears beginning to spill down his face, looking stubbornly at the memorial in front of him, “He’s an idiot then.”

Kenobi huffed, “It would’ve been futile. It wouldn’t have changed anything. He’d still be dead.”

Rex looked at the Jedi, for the first time wondering how they grieved. The one time he’d seen Anakin do it was probably the most terrifying few days of his life. Things had been bad aboard the venator. He’d been angry and twitchy, yelling and snapping like a feral dog. Rex had stepped in between him and Ahsoka at one point, telling him to back off before he did some real damage. The look in his eyes that followed haunted Rex for weeks after. It was the first time he’d ever been truly afraid of his general.

Rex looked at the man in front of him and wondered if he loved anyone enough to be reduced to nothing like that. Wondered if the effect he had on Anakin went both ways. 

“He was a good man,” Kenobi said quietly, tears flowing down his face as well, “A very good man.”

Rex clenched his jaw. He didn’t want Cody to be a good man. He wanted Cody to be here. He wanted, so stupidly and so desperately, for Cody to be here to tease him for crying over him. He wanted Cody to be here to banish the crushing loneliness that was coming back over the course of this conversation. He wanted Cody to be here because Cody knew him, and Rex wasn’t sure anyone else ever would. 

He was a captain to his men, a soldier to his superiors, a brother-in-arms to Torrent, and a little brother to none. 

“He was my brother,” was all Rex could say in response. 

“I owe you an apology,” Kenobi said after a moment, “I believe I asked you to step into his shoes far too quickly.”

Rex tried his best to keep his shrug nonchalant, less like the flinch it truly was, “It’s alright.”

Kenobi shook his head, finally turning to look at Rex, “We both know why I really asked.”

Rex grimaced. He’d had a feeling, but no confirmation. Rex was the closest thing to Cody. The next best person. They had similar attitudes and stances. They had the same sense of humor and the same sense of severity when shit hit the fan. 

He and Cody had the same sense of humanity, despite their upbringing. He would’ve been Cody’s replacement, not a commander in his own right. It was, after all, half the reason Rex refused.

“I know,” Rex said softly, drumming his fingers on his helmet. His thoughts were slow and syrupy, filtering too much and not enough. “Maybe in a few months. If the position isn’t filled.” 

Kenobi shook his head again, “I don’t want to hold you to that. You’re happy with the 501st. Cody always seemed to think so.”

Rex’s lower lip trembled. He was. He really, truly was happy with them. Fives, Jesse, Kix, the whole bunch. He was a brother and a captain in one, there to lead them down the right path and it was good. It was fun. It was more than he ever thought he’d get out of this shitty life.

It didn’t mean he didn’t miss Cody with his whole being. 

Before Anakin split off to form the 501st, when Rex was in the 212th and working under Cody, it had been so easy. Their dynamic barely changed as Cody remained in the lead and Rex remained staunch in his resolve to follow him wherever he went. They’d worked well together and at the end of the day they could still share meals, swap stories, and be brothers. They were still Rex and Cody. 

“I am,” Rex said in lieu of all that, “An - Skywalker is a good leader.”

Kenobi smiled, but something was off. Painful looking. “I’m glad.”

They sat in silence together for a few more minutes, both discreetly wiping their faces. A few guards passed them by but no one came up to interrupt them. No one dared pull a Jedi away, especially not at this time of night. 

“I should let you go,” Kenobi said. It was almost like watching an illusory trick in real life, the way he slowly collected himself until he looked more like General Kenobi, and less like Obi-Wan. 

Rex nodded slowly, still drunk despite the sobering conversation, “Fives is worried. I’ve been gone a while.”

Kenobi looked at over at Rex and then behind him into the guard compound, some semblance of understanding on his face, “I’m glad you four got to mourn.”

Rex’s face twitched. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Obi-Wan knowing that’s what he was doing and where he was coming from. It made sense that he knew, given Ponds’ death and Cody’s own occasional disappearances in there to go see Fox, but still. It felt odd. Like an intrusion.

Rex didn’t say any of that, instead giving Kenobi a short nod and doing his best not to wobble too much as he walked away. He brought up his comm as he glanced back, seeing the Jedi still watching him go as the wall behind him loomed ominously. It felt symbolic, important in a way Rex didn’t yet understand. The vision of Kenobi, defeated and beat down, in front of a wall of dead clone names…maybe if he was more sober he could’ve added something to that. Bly and Ponds would’ve known. 

“Fives?” Rex croaked into his comm, his voice worn from various conversations and tears, “You available for a pick-up?”

Rex heard Fives sigh into the comm, “Always Rex. How bad are you?”

Rex shrugged, forgetting that Fives couldn’t see. After an awkward moment of silence, Fives grumbled something about drunk brothers and Rex could hear him going for his boots, “Where exactly am I finding you?”

“Guard complex.”

“Jesus Rex.”

“Not like that,” Rex muttered, “Was just visiting.”

“Oh,” there was a small pause on the other end, “Oh. Fox.”

“And Wolffe and Bly,” Rex admitted, looking around for a place to sit. He really wanted to sit. “It was good.”

There was another small pause before Fives answered, sounding a little strange, “I’m glad. Support is important.”

“Yeah,” Rex hummed, “Maybe. Wasn’t about that.”

“No?”

Some part of Rex registered Fives was just keeping him talking. Another part of Rex didn’t actually care. 

“No,” he said quietly, “Just remembering.”

Fives made a noise like he understood. Rex turned around to see Kenobi gone from the memorial. Briefly, something in his chest pinched and pulled tight. He hadn’t taken into account that Kenobi was also one of the last threads to Cody he had left. 

“Rex? You okay?”

“Hm?” Rex’s attention was half-focused on Fives, half-scanning for Kenobi, “Yeah. Of course.” And then, because for some reason he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, “Ran into Kenobi.”

He heard the soft whoosh of the doors to the GAR barracks, knowing Fives was probably on his way, “Yeah? What’d he say?”

Rex shrugged, new tears welling up in his eyes. He tried to choke them down as he spoke, “What I expected. He loved Cody, Cody was a good man, I’ve got a job offer if I want it.”

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other line before a little half-scared, “What?” made it out of Fives.

Rex scrubbed his eyes. He hadn’t told anyone about it the first time around. “Cody’s position. If I wanted it.”

“Oh,” Fives sounded small all of a sudden. Unsteady. “Do you?”

Rex hummed, “I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for a little bit, the various sounds of the street filtering through both sides of the comm. Rex found a seat on a bench not too far away, eyeing civilians passing by in case they tried anything stupid. 

“I want you to stay here,” Fives finally said. “I know you and Cody -”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Rex said, cutting Fives off before he could get further, “It was just an offer. We’re both drunk and…drunk. I’m not taking it.” Yet.

He heard a breath of relief from the other side and guilt twinged at him, “Good. I’m glad. We need you here, Rex.”

Rex hummed, looking up and for once wishing he was surrounded by stars. It was easy to get sick of it in deep space. It gave him a headache sometimes, staring out into an empty void that he knew would kill them all in an instant. But here on Coruscant you couldn’t see the sky, not after generations of light pollution. It made him wish to be away, to be anywhere but here.

“I don’t have a big brother anymore,” Rex said into the comm. It was more of a passing comment, something he’d been chewing on since Cody’s death. 

“I know,” Fives sounded horribly sad in his response. Rex blinked at the comm, almost wanting to see Fives’ face. He was the oldest of his batch. He’d seen his little brothers die one by one. Rex wondered what it felt like to be on that side of things.

“I’m not anyone’s vod’ika,” Rex murmured. 

“I know,” Fives repeated, quieter this time but still weighty. 

Rex wasn’t sure what else to say. His big brother was gone. Nothing could change that.

“I’ll be there soon ori’vod,” Fives said kindly with only a mild note of concern in his voice, “Then we can go home.”

Rex nodded numbly. Home would be good. He was drunk and tired and a bed sounded really nice right about now. 

“Rex?” Fives called his attention away from thoughts of sleep, “You know…you know we’re here for you right? We get it. We’ve all had someone die on us. You don’t have to do the command staff thing of hiding it away for our sake.”

Rex pinched the bridge of his nose, “I know Fives.” The words were automatic, completely hollowed out and said just for the purpose of being said. Both men knew it.

“Alright,” Fives relented anyway, “Just - don’t go anywhere without us.”

Rex nodded blearily, once again forgetting Fives couldn’t see him, “Aye aye Captain.”

Fives huffed in a poor imitation of a laugh, “Alright asshole. I’ll be there in five.”

The comm clicked off in Rex’s hand. Rex looked at it, considering carefully.

He entered Cody’s comm channel, surprised to see it come up unanswered. He’d have thought they would reassign it by now. 

Leave a message here

The glowing blue words blinked up at him. Rex stared, unsure what to say. He began typing a few times only to erase his message, thoughts of officers or god forbid Kaminoans finding the message playing like a warning in his head. 

The message clicked off when Rex took too long. He scrambled to reenter the code, though this time a voice played. 

This is Marshal Commander Cody speaking. Leave me a message or send me a comm and I will respond as my schedule allows.

Rex wanted to laugh. Of course Cody would program a voice message into his comm. Of course it would have a very pointed fuck you to everyone who thought they could walk all over him. 

He wanted to laugh but the noise that made it out of his chest was anything but happy. He gripped his pulse point over his wrist, shoving the comm back into his belt, and tried to gulp down breaths of air. 

He missed him. Gods above he missed him. He didn’t think he’d ever stop missing him. He knew the ache dulled, knew it from experience and from watching others around him, but here and now he was alone. Alone and sobbing on a bench in Coruscant, the looming specter of death behind him. A memorial, a reminder of everything Rex had lost, here to tower over him even now. 

“Rex?”

Fives. 

“Rex,” Fives sighed, putting a little more step into his walk as he made it to Rex, “Let's get you home, yeah? I think it’s time you called it a night.”

Rex nodded again, letting Fives sling his arm over his shoulder and moving forward obediently. 

“You know I love you right?” Rex asked, not looking at Fives.

“‘Course I do,” Fives responded, keeping his eyes forward as well, “Why?”

“Just need to tell you,” Rex sighed, his eyes sliding half shut, “Just in case.”

Fives’ grip on him tightened. Rex tried not to think about how soon this might be taken from him too.

#commander cody #the clone wars #captain rex #cc 2224 #ct 7567 #my writing #fanfic #star wars #angst #hurt/no comfort #grief #character study #major character death #also sorry for being MIA #its midterms szn #and my mental health is hell #everything is bad so i made everything in here bad too

[anto-pops]

The Serpent's Paramour CH 4 - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: With Sebastian off in London doing Merlin knows what, you find yourself having to deal with more of his cronies and your pent up abilities. It isn't long before you come to realize that not even the wards on the house can stop the inevitable.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit language, nightmares, graphic descriptions of pain

Chapter 4 can also be read here on Ao3

Not long after Sebastian and Devlin left for London, you’d shuffled back up to your room to dwell on everything you and your former friend had discussed. It didn’t take a Leglimen to figure out that despite Sebastian’s claims that he was only being nice because he needed you alive, his actions were speaking far louder than his words. There were a plethora of ways he could go about getting you to do his bidding; he could bribe you with your wand, for starters. Or he could use the Imperius curse and simply make you a mindless puppet, content to obey his commands without any of the push-back or hurled insults. 

But he wasn’t doing any of those things. Even though he claimed that he had hated you for a time, he obviously didn’t now, and he seemed to be trying to win your trust in a way that went completely against what you’d expected of him. Moreover there was something in his eyes that made you draw pause– something eerily similar to affection.

Part of you– wistful and naive as ever– was giddy at the idea of him feeling any semblance of care for you after all this time. The past five years hadn’t afforded you many opportunities to be taken care of, and though there had been a few random flings with strangers throughout your travels, they had always been fleeting and loveless. Quick bouts of physical yearning brought on by too much firewhiskey and ale. Nothing of substance. Your old feelings for Sebastian were as close as you’d ever gotten to the kind of love written about in fairytales. 

That line of thinking got instantly crushed under the overwhelmingly rational part of your brain. You were currently his captive, being forced to aid him in the retrieval of yet another dark relic, all for his sister’s sake. He had taken your magic, insisted that you blindly trust him and his obscure plan, and in doing so he had unknowingly put you in a dangerous position. Without an outlet to use your magic, you were bound to be consumed by the dark power that coursed through your veins. Everyday you spent here would only bring you closer to an inevitable catastrophe.

You didn’t even want to consider who else would be affected if the repository magic set itself off here, surrounded by other people. 

Not that you would care all that much if you took out a bunch of dark wizards with you. The fact that Sebastian was actively working with the very people that had hunted you all over the Hogwarts region your fifth-year was disconcerting enough. The stench of dark magic on him might have been absent today, but you would never forget how potent it had been when you’d first set eyes on him. He was still using unforgivable curses even now– hell, he had probably been using them the day you arrived for the smell to be so strong. Just because he was being kind to you didn’t change the fact that these people were your enemies, and by extension, so was Sebastian. 

You couldn’t allow yourself to be distracted by his suave one-liners or the playful glimmer in his eyes any longer. 

You spent the next hour restlessly tossing and turning in your bed, toeing the curtains of the canopy with your foot as you thought about where your wand might be stashed away. Knowing Sebastian, it was more than likely on his person, seeing as that was the only surefire way to prevent you from getting your hands on it. He knew from firsthand experience just how nosey you could be, so you sorely doubted you’d get lucky enough to find it hidden in a drawer in his own room– wherever that may be. Where did he hole up at night? He had to sleep somewhere, though seeing as you’d only ever interacted with him during the day, it wouldn’t surprise you to discover that he had become a nocturnal creature in the past five years. 

It wouldn’t be the strangest thing about him.

Your silent contemplation was cut short by the unmistakable sound of the bedroom door smacking against the wall as it was aggressively thrown open, and you shot upright with your heart thrumming wildly against your sternum. There had been so many thoughts racing through your brain when you’d returned upstairs earlier that you’d completely forgotten to barricade the door. It did little to deter anyone from entering, as you’d already discovered, but at the very least it helped prevent you from being scared shitless like you were right now. The door creaked on its hinges as its momentum caused it to drift back into place, but a high heeled foot then knocked it aside once again, leaving you face to face with an unfamiliar woman. 

You could tell that she was tall even without her boots on, the top of her ashy blonde head just a few inches short of reaching the top of the doorframe. Clad in black from head to toe, the form fitting clothing she wore accentuated all of her assets in a flattering way, leaving you feeling rather mousy in comparison. Her icy blue eyes narrowed once she zeroed in on you rigid atop the mattress, and her ruby red lips pulled back from her teeth in a fierce sneer. Her fair, unmarred skin looked like pure porcelain against the light that streamed through the windows, and you nervously scooted to the side of the bed in case the murderous glint in her eyes was genuine. 

She took a purposeful step into the room, your attention shifting to the small box full of clothing wedged under her arm and balanced against the curve of her hip. As striking as the woman was, the malice that emanated from her was enough to make you want to avert your eyes– but this strange female wasn’t Sebastian, and something told you that letting your guard down around her was the furthest thing from a good idea. Her cold gaze raked down your half-dressed body, rouge lips curling even more when she seemed to take note of the coat Sebastian had given you still draped over your shoulders. 

“So you’re what all the fuss is about,” she said, turning her nose up at you as she stalked closer to where you sat. “Don’t know why I have to hand over my clothes when your bag of rags would have more than sufficed, but whatever.” 

You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you kept your mouth shut. Sebastian’s earlier comment about having someone named Nora bring you clothing came back to you then, and you realized he must have somehow given her the order all the way from London. He hadn’t seen anyone other than Devlin in the minutes leading up to his departure. 

Nora’s animosity was as obvious as it was perplexing, and you slid off the mattress and backed up a step when she reached the bed before unceremoniously dumping the box of attire on top of the sheets. Immediately you noticed that the majority of the material was varying shades of black and gray. Then rather scornfully, Nora began sorting through the pile, tossing shirts to one side of the bed and pants to the other. Mercifully, there were no undergarments to be found. You couldn’t fathom being made to wear someone else's unmentionables. 

When the blonde finally deigned to look at you, she was focused wholly on the woolen coat you gripped tightly around yourself. “He may as well burn that now. I doubt the stench will come out after washing it at this point.” 

Her comment gave you whiplash, and your voice returned to you as you indignantly asked, “What’s your problem?” 

“You are,” she practically spat. 

“You don’t even know me,” you helpfully supplied, and Nora scoffed, the sound ripe with contempt. 

“And thank Merlin for that. I have no desire to get to know the woman responsible for sending Sebastian to prison. Regardless of what he might think, you are without a shadow of a doubt the worst thing that’s ever happened to him.” 

What in the sweet hells had Sebastian told this woman? Her negative feelings towards you seemed to be rooted in something a lot more personal than anything having to do with her boss. “I don’t see how my history with him has anything to do with you.”

Nora snatched up the now empty box at the foot of the bed, her grip on the handle white knuckled as she turned to face you fully. “It has everything to do with me. It was us that gave him purpose again– my people who pulled him from that cesspool of a cell you put him in and gave him his life back. But then after everything we went and accomplished together, he suddenly spends five months diverting resources to track you down, even though you want nothing to do with him. You’re not even interested in helping him and yet he bends over backwards to make sure you’re comfortable. If you ask me, he should have locked your ass in the basement and thrown away the key.” 

Your magic flickered to life beneath your skin, thrumming in your blood almost painfully as the wards of the house suppressed your abilities with the strength of a damn Graphorn. The anger you felt wasn’t just that; it was a unique blend of guilt and self-doubt. Everything she was saying to you were things you had already thought a hundred times over, but something about hearing it from someone else’s mouth caused your composure to slip. How much of your shared past with Sebastian did she know of? Who was she to him? 

The hands that had been holding onto the lapels of your loaned coat fell to your sides, curling into trembling fists. “I couldn’t care less what you think of me. It sounds like Sebastian doesn’t either, seeing as he hasn’t taken your opinion into consideration. Deal with it.” 

Suddenly Nora crossed the space between the two of you to glower mere inches from your face, but you thankfully held your ground. She was nearly a whole head taller than you. “Mark my words; as soon as he gets what he wants from you, he will toss you aside like you’re nothing. He’s worked too hard and sacrificed too much to forget why we’re here.” 

The relic immediately came into your mind, but you knew it was truly just a means to an end. “To cure Anne?” 

“Among other things,” Nora grinned wickedly, all teeth on display as her sharp eyes bored into yours. “I don’t care about our stupid deal– should he grow complacent in his role, I’ll end your miserable existence myself. You’ll get what’s coming to you, just you wait.” 

Maybe it was because you were actively being threatened by someone you didn’t know, or maybe the three days of being unable to use your magic had finally taken a toll that even the wards couldn’t stop well enough. Whatever the reason, Isidora’s dark magic from the repository flooded your system, roaring through your veins like a screeching tempest, so violent that your limbs shook from the ferocity of it. The almost sentient power whirled through your chest, your arms, your fingertips, bludgeoning back the invisible restraints that had worked to keep you meek and non-threatening for the past seventy-two hours. It slithered throughout your body– pushing and pressing in its insistence to break free– until finally a small piece of it slipped out and struck like a snake poised to bite. 

The barely there sliver of power was tiny, but it was also more than enough.

As you stood your ground and glared daggers at Nora, her fair skin paled impossibly further when she felt the dark magic seeping from you. The pathetic wards were momentarily forgotten as your magic reared its ugly, corrupted head, conveying to the witch that under no uncertain circumstances would you be an easy target. She could try to kill you, but you wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

Nora yelped, jumping away from you as a deafening boom sounded from beneath your feet. The floorboards groaned and strained before a large crack appeared underfoot and spiderwebbed across the room, stopping just short of where the woman now stood a handful of feet away. You enjoyed the moment while it lasted, relishing in the strain that lifted from your shoulders as you expelled the tiny bit of the pent up magic. Then as quickly as the power had appeared, it vanished, receding back beneath your skin and falling dormant under the renewed intensity of the wards. 

Nora’s eyes were wider than saucers as she stared unblinkingly at you, fear and apprehension alike overshadowing her pretty features. Your resolve hardened as you stood up straighter, a silent challenge reflected in your eyes. The look said everything words couldn’t, but you still opted to say, “Thanks for the clothes.”

The threat in your gaze registered fully, and without another word to you, Nora dropped the box she’d been holding and sped out of the room, not once looking back. 

***

Everything was shaking. The ground, the columns that stretched high within the cavernous room, and even the air seemed to quake with the power Ranrok had unleashed. You threw your hands out to steady yourself, watching on in horror as an unnatural creature crafted from pure pain erupted from the repository. It looked like a dragon– moved like a dragon– but the thing barreling towards you was in fact nothing of the sort. The transformed version of Ranrok flapped its gargantuan wings before banking left and dipping down out of sight, and your gaze fell on Professor Fig, already staring at you. 

He had never looked at you like that before. Saddened. Confused. Disappointed. 

He’d never once believed that you would claim the repository’s power for yourself– had always trusted you to make the right decisions time and time again. Even after reminding you of Isidora’s folly and the consequences that had followed her into death, you hadn’t yielded to him. 

“Isidora wasted her ability trying to save people from themselves. I will not let others dictate what I do with this– my– power,” you had said. 

The crestfallen expression on Professor Fig’s face had remained up until now. Your chest hurt at the sight, but before you could apologize to him or justify your reasoning, the beast that was now Ranrok soared overhead, knocking thick slabs of rock free from the ceiling of the cavern. There was no time to react as a massive boulder whistled through the air, heading straight for the Professor. 

He broke eye contact in the seconds before his demise, raising his arm above his head as though to protect himself from the inevitable. The chunk of rock landed with a booming crunch, and your stomach lurched vehemently. 

No…

No, he couldn’t be–

It wasn’t right– there was no way–

You reached out, your foot lifting to move towards the place Professor Fig had just been standing, but that first step was ultimately your last. The second your boot touched down against the rocky overhang, you were weightless– falling backwards as the earth crumbled beneath you and sent you plunging down into the darkness.

Into the belly of the beast. 

***

Your eyes snapped open abruptly, the darkness of the night leaching into your room and imbuing you with panic. For those first ten seconds of consciousness, you thought you were still beneath Hogwarts. That is, until the sight of the canopy overhead settled your nerves. 

Not for long, however. 

A vicious, skull splitting headache assaulted you the moment you tried rolling over in bed, stilling your movements and pulling a pained groan from your chapped lips. Your ears were ringing, and though it was dark, your vision was blurry. Beyond the banisters of the four-poster bed, everything was hazy and out of focus. You couldn’t even read the clock on the mantle, and you gave up trying after a sharp, concentrated bolt of pain shot through your head in protest of your efforts. 

Pushing yourself up slowly on shaking limbs, you became acutely aware of your own sweat-slick skin. The shirt you wore was one of the ones Nora had given you, and the soft cotton stuck to your clammy skin, chilling you to the bone and causing you to shiver uncontrollably. Moving imbued you with the overwhelming urge to vomit, bile rising up in your throat as you tried to swing your legs over the edge of the bed to make for the bathroom. 

Uncoordinated as the day you were born, your legs gave out the second you tried standing, and you collapsed to the floor in a trembling, sweaty heap as your bed-mussed hair fell into your face. Despite the struggle that came with trying to see further than two feet in front of you, when you turned your head to the side to glance out the windows, you could make out the distinct sight of your reflection in the glass, the red sparks that crackled across your skin telling you everything you needed to know. 

The repository magic was begging– no, demanding to be let loose. 

It had been too long since you’d used it fully, the power taking on something of a snowball effect as it accumulated more and more until it was straining painfully from within. You had to get out– as far from the wards as physically possible. You didn’t have your wand, so there would be no way to channel your abilities precisely, but at the very least you could let the overload of dark magic expel itself however it saw fit. The alternative was a very painful death that you weren’t too keen on experiencing. 

Forcing yourself up onto your unsteady legs, you stumbled to the bedroom door and shouldered it open, dragging your feet to the staircase before practically sliding down the steps on your bottom. The dull throb in your tailbone was nothing compared to the intense pain that wracked the rest of your body. Using the wall for support, you shuffled into the dining room, noting through your crippling headache that none of the doors were being guarded this late at night. Either Sebastian had taken more people with him to London or the Ashwinders in the house had grown complacent after three days of hardly seeing you. Regardless, you weren’t complaining in the slightest as you dragged yourself to one of the sets of doors you had yet to go through. 

Locked. 

Dammit.

With effort, you turned and made your way to the other side of the dining room, virtually falling against the handle before you tried twisting the knob. That one was locked too, and a half-sob slipped from your lips as panic started to sink in. The jagged, red bolts that pulsated against your skin were coming in faster waves now, silently urging you to move quicker before it was too late. Your only other option in the room was the door to the garden, but you already knew there was no way out that way. Still, it was your best bet. 

You didn’t know if the gods were being merciful or cruel when the garden door opened. It was just your luck to find an unlocked exit that offered no clear cut way off of the property. 

Pointlessly, your hands shoved against the cobblestone wall closest to you, as if that would get you anywhere. Dizziness met you when you craned your neck back to stare up at the top of the stone barrier before you, the wards seemingly sensing the growing magic within you and working even harder to stifle it. You felt like you were suffocating. With as much effort as you could muster, you dug your fingers into the divots of the wall and hoisted yourself up a few inches, then jammed your foot into whatever space you could find below to push yourself up higher. 

Another wave of pain rippled through you and caused you to cry out as your limbs spasmed, and you fell pathetically back against the grass with your knees folded under you as your fingers twitched uselessly. Your palms stung where they had scraped against the rough stone of the wall, but it was a far cry from the torment Isidora’s magic inflicted upon you. 

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you would try clawing your way out of here,” came a vaguely familiar voice, but you didn’t have the strength to turn around and face whoever it was. With a heavy thud, your head tipped forward to rest against the cool cobblestone, and through the insistent waves of agony that gripped you, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Your head lolled weakly to the side, allowing you to catch a glimpse of the red headed Ashwinder you hadn’t set eyes on since your first day in the house. 

What was his name again? Sebastian had said it to you once. James? John? Something with a ‘J’. His gray eyes were narrowed, his maskless face donning an expression of obvious suspicion as he gauged your pitiful state against the ground, and you dimly noted the fading bruise from the candelabra you’d thrown at him still decorated his forehead. Another surge of the repository’s power rolled through you suddenly, and you clenched your molars together hard in a bid to fend off the piteous moan that threatened to spill from your scratchy throat. 

The Ashwinder couldn’t conceal the blatant horror that spread across his face as he watched the dark magic crackle over your skin, and he drew in a sharp breath before taking a tentative step back. “What the fuck is happening?” 

It hurt to force the words out, but you beat back the raw, irritating pain that came with speaking to convey the direness of the situation. “Out. I have to get out.” 

“Out where!? You’re fucking glowing– what– shit, what’s going on?” 

Great, he was panicking. This was exactly what you didn’t need. “Take me outside,” you growled, the words almost breathless as they left you. “No wards– or else I’m pretty sure I’ll level the house to the ground and you with it.” 

“I– what? If this is your idea of threatening me, you’re–”

“It’s not a threat!” you barked, your fear clearer than glass in that moment. “It’s a promise, I can’t–” another wave coursed through you, and you whimpered before curling in on yourself even more. “I can’t control it,” you whispered.

To his credit, the man seemed to genuinely consider your request instead of outright refusing– though it probably had more to do with the unmistakable aura of dark magic that emanated from you. 

“If you escape outside the wards, I’m done for. How do I know you won’t just apparate away the second you’re free?” 

You wanted to tell him that he didn’t know– that he would just have to trust you. But the power pushing against your skin intensified in that instant, and you doubled over against the grass as a loud, grating cry tore from your lips. It wouldn’t be long now.

“Fuck– fuck!” he yelled, raking his hands through his already messy hair as he stared down at you incredulously. “You better not make me regret this.”

The Ashwinder closed the distance between you both and grabbed you by the arm, hoisting you upright despite your mewls of pain before looping your arm around his neck. He supported the majority of your weight as he half-dragged you through the dining room towards one of the previously locked doors before charming it open. As the two of you made your way down the hallway, he shuddered against you from the palpable force of the dark magic that radiated from your near-boneless body, and the next thing you knew, you were outside again– only this time in the front of the house. 

As he stumbled towards the end of the gravel path that led towards a set of iron gates, the wards grew fainter, and more of the repository’s power started to slip free from its shackles. The red head glanced sideways at you, picking up his pace the best he could before muttering under his breath, “Sebastian is going to kill me.” 

Sebastian would be the least of his concerns if he didn’t speed things along. 

Finally, the two of you crossed the threshold of the gates, and the telltale weight of the wards lifted completely from your shoulders. With your last remaining bit of strength, you wrenched your arm free from the Ashwinder and collapsed to the ground, crawling an additional few feet away from him as the magic erupted from you with the force of a steam train. 

You were certain your screams could be heard from miles away as all of the pain held within Isidora’s stored magic ripped from you. It was unlike anything you had ever experienced before; it felt like your skin was being peeled away, and like your nails were being pried off. Like your bones were being broken, mended, then broken all over again. The emotional pain that came with all of it was just as bad. The kind of hurt that went hand in hand with mourning, fear, anger, and countless other emotions overwhelmed your fried brain and left you crying in earnest. The Cruciatus curse Sebastian had cast on you all those years ago couldn’t amount to a fraction of what a repository full of hoarded pain was doing to you. 

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time your screams dwindled into muffled sobs and you were left twitching against the dirt. Despite your silent pleading to the gods to let you pass out in the throes of agony, you’d remained awake for every torturous second, and by now you desperately wanted to lose consciousness. The dark nothingness that sleep offered looked like a blessing next to the lingering feeling of the dark magic pulsating through you. 

You heard the Ashwinder say something from somewhere near the gate, then another voice responded in turn– rough, stern, and familiar– before a pair of solid arms were scooping you off of the ground. The weight of your eyelids was too much to fight, and your head lolled listlessly against a firm chest as you lay in a boneless heap against the warm body that carried you. It was all too easy for your mind to finally slip away as the sound of a door closing reached your ears, and then that blissful nothingness you had craved an eternity ago was there to greet you. 

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x female!reader #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fanfic #I won't make a habit of having Sebastian be MIA from chapters I just had to do it for the sake of progress here #WIP TSP #my writing

[forkz07]

“Don’t leave. I can’t let you.”

Mother Miranda had called each one of the lords to a meeting to decide the fate of the child’s father, Ethan Winters. She explained the situation, that he needed to be dealt with so he wouldn’t get his hands on the vessel. Karl had caught the father trying to get into Alcina’s castle, and he was luckily knocked out and brought to the meeting. Mother Miranda was very pleased. Each lord argued (some more than others) to decide who he should go with to be killed. Moreau argued his point for the approval and validation of Mother, trying to show that ‘he was the best.’ Though, it was a small chance that she would even pick him in the first place. Alcina argued fairly well, coming in second place to Karl. Her ideas were good, and up to standards, but she just wasn’t good enough. Karl wanted to put on a show, like always, and he proposed his ideas and Mother chose him to have the fate of Ethan Winters’ life in his hands. He was a good choice, after all. And then, there was Donna. Angie argued for her, but she didn’t want to say much. She wouldn’t be able to do anything to Ethan except drive himself mad. Compared to her siblings, she was weak. She was the one who deserved the position the least. Or, at least in her eye that was what she thought.

Soon enough, Ethan was let go into Karl’s ‘game.’ As soon as the father jumped down the hole, running for his life, Alcina scoffed as Karl got himself a mic. Of course he’d want to commentate..

“This is ridiculous. It’s barely a show.” Alcina would hold her cigarette to her lips, breathing in the intoxicating air as her hand rested on the back of her chair. She didn’t agree with letting Heisenberg have full control, but she was out of her depth to even confront Mother about it a second time. Karl would talk into his mic, taunting Ethan who was running for his life. Moreau seemed to get a small kick out of it, though you could see he was upset that Mother didn’t choose him for something once again.

Alcina would speak up again, “Seriously, Karl. You should’ve just hit him with that damned hammer of yours. That’s better than waiting around, waiting for him to be crushed.”

Karl laughed, slightly throwing his head back before adjusting his hat. “Gotta keep Donna and Moreau entertained!”

Alcina would roll her eyes, taking another puff of her cigarette. Even Angie wasn’t that amused, and she found fun in almost anything. Even petty fights. Angie would cross her arms as she stayed seated on the doll-makers lap, “Finish it up already! I don’t have all day!”

Soon enough, Karl would finish his commentary and all of his contraptions would stop. So, that was it of Ethan Winters, and he wasn’t a threat any longer. Donna would stand up from her seat, holding Angie in one arm as she brushed off her dress with her other. Each one of the lords were getting ready to leave when Miranda stopped them.

“Wait. I have something for each of you.”

All eyes would turn to Miranda, all attention fully focused on her. She presented four yellow flasks, each with a lid of the lords respective crests. At first, all four of them were confused. Was it some kind of gift, perhaps?

“Each of you must guard these flasks as they hold importance in the ceremony. I need each of you to participate as you’ll be helping me make it work. Am I clear?”

Everyone would nod their heads, taking their flasks appointed to them and leaving the meeting site. It didn’t make much sense why Mother would entrust these flasks with each of them if all they had to do was bring it to the ceremony on the day, but they trusted her words. They trusted her.

Donna closed the door to the Beneviento Manor, placing her flask upon a pedestal which slowly retreated under the floor. She didn’t trust herself to keep it out in the open where it could be knocked down, or potentially stolen if for some odd reason someone wanted it. But there, she knew it was safe. She would lock the door, walking into the foyer and putting Angie down so she could roam freely throughout the house. Angie would laugh, running forward and bumping into the table in the middle of the room, a string of yellow yarn unravelling on the floor. Though, Angie continued her ruckus and made her way to the living room, scuttering across the floor. Instead of following her doll companion, Donna would make her way down to the basement where she would go to the kitchen, making herself a cup of lavender tea.

Donna, unlike the other lords, had problems with anxiety, and her siblings and Mother had been so kind to gift her different types of tea as a relief as she had been too nervous to get some in the village herself. She was happy that after all that time alone and isolated, she had found people who, even though she didn’t see too often, were always there. After finishing making her tea, she would pick the cup up and make her way to her workshop, placing the cup down and sitting down in her chair. She would lift her veil from her face, taking it off completely and folding it neatly before placing it down on the edge of the table. Donna spent almost all of her time down in her workshop, working away, doing what she loved most - creating dolls. Or more like, creating new friends. She couldn’t help but silently thank her departed father for gifting her such a talent and love for doll-making, as she didn’t know what she would be without it.

After a few hours work, she had finished creating a life sized, female doll. It was laid down on her workbench, empty, wooden eyes staring up at the dank ceiling. She hadn’t added details to it yet, neither had she carved out the hair, but she was quite proud of her work done so far. She would take her tools and would start refining the doll, until her small companion came bursting in. Angie, who half had a conscious of her own, came with a note in her small, frail hand. She would waddle over to Donna, who carefully picked her friend up and took the note with a small, grateful smile and opened it up.

d. beneviento,

Alcina has been defeated by Ethan Winters and we don’t know who he’s coming after next. Be prepared.

Donna’s eye would widen at the sight of the ink on the paper, her lips parting as a small gasp escaped her breath. It hadn’t been signed by anyone, but that didn’t change the fact that this letter was most likely telling the truth. Angie for once was quiet, and unlike her lovely demeanour had an aura of misery, quite like Donna’s. The note would be folded back up neatly and placed down on a desk as the sombre woman took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Angie would be placed down, and Donna put herself to work. The doll she had been creating for the past few hours had been created into Ethan’s ‘late’ lover. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t up to Donna’s usual standards, but she was on a time crunch. She had implemented a puzzle for the father to do if he even made it this far, hoping it would slow him down and give her more time to prepare herself. She would cover the doll’s body with a white sheet, picking up her veil afterwards and finishing off her tea. This was one of the times the tea did not help her nerves.

Donna stared at her dull, pale face in the mirror at Alcina’s castle as her hands shook, and her shoulders trembled. She was there to help Alcina fit her new dress as she has had another growth spurt recently, now at the staggering height of 8’9. She had grown a lot in the past few months, which had caused Donna to visit a lot recently. But this visit hasn’t went as planned, and now the doll-maker had trapped herself in one of the very many elegant bathrooms of this castle. She ran her shaky hand over her right eye, feeling bumps and small tendrils across her skin. If the scar wasn’t bad enough, this was worse than anything she could’ve imagined. Mother hadn’t mentioned that the Cadou could spread over the skin cells if it didn’t happen earlier on, but she was wrong. Donna had the Cadou implanted into her for a while now, and her outside appearance had been as it always had been, but a couple of days ago she had felt mutation across her scar. She hadn’t looked at herself since that very moment, keeping her veil on at all times, even when in the comforts of her own home. It had been so long since she had felt the need to hide herself so prominently, but she new that small feeling of confidence wasn’t going to last her forever. Her breathing was rapid, and she could feel her cold heart beating out of her chest as her head pounded with pain. During fitting Alcina, she felt her skin tightening around what used to be her right eye, and excused herself to go to the bathroom. She thought it was a coincidence, perhaps something like phantom pain, but it was real. The mutation had gotten worse, and it had sent her down a spiral of self hate. She would sit down on the bathroom floor, clutching at her chest as she tried to steady her breathing, but nothing was working. Not the breathing exercises Alcina had taught her, not the counting down her senses which Karl had taught her, not even just holding something and feeling the sensations which Moreau had told her. Nothing was working, and she felt at that any minute, she was going to explode. She heard a knock at the door and could only guess that it was Alcina as the girls were enjoying their limited time outside before it fell to night and the temperatures dropped. Donna would keep her eyes glued to the floor as another round of knocks was drowned out by the screaming thoughts in her head.

“Donna, If you don’t answer I’m going to come in.”

There would be no answer, and with a slash of a claw the doors lock was hijacked, and opened. The door would slowly open as the taller woman ducked down and entered the room, her eyes settling upon her younger ‘sibling.’ Family was something Alcina treasured, and she was going to be damned if she didn’t do anything to help her family, even if they weren’t related by blood. It was quite the sight. The small girl had her hand covering her right eye as her other held her veil clenched in her fist to her chest. The door would close and a few steps would be taken towards the doll-maker before the taller woman lowered herself and rested on her knees, with her hands in her lap. Her motherly instinct to hold out a hand and make contact was almost irresistible, but she had seen this in Donna before, and touching wasn’t always the greatest remedy. It had worked sometimes, to help ground her, but sometimes it ended in cold words, one time even full blown shouting, which was out of character for the shy, quiet-natured woman. Alcina would wait a moment before speaking.

“What do you need, Donna?”

Her tone was firm, but patient and caring. She wasn’t going to force her to say or do anything, but she was going to push it. Sometimes love needed toughness added into the mix. The room would stay silent for a few moments, the only sounds audible were that of fast heavy breathing, and small sniffles. Eventually, the breathing would steady and slow, and the sniffling wouldn’t be as frequent. Donna finally broke eye contact with the ground and looked at Alcina next to her, then darted her gaze to her clenched hand at her chest, holding her veil. Alcina would repeat herself.

“What is it you need?”

Donna would whisper something inaudible to the question, which Alcina would hum to in response. Then, the doll-maker would speak up, clearing her throat before she did. Her voice was a little hoarse from all the heaving and quiet sobs, but was mostly intact.

“..I need..”

No, it wasn’t a need. It was more of a want. Though, she wished it was a need because it would make it so much more realistic.

Alcina would chime in as Donna got lost in thought. “Perhaps you need some tea. Come on, I’ll get my maids to whip something up for you. We can resume fitting another day.”

Donna would wait nervously in one of the hidden rooms in her house, sat down in one of the corners praying this was all a dream. She had set up the basement and was hoping it would be enough to get Ethan out of here. But, if Alcina couldn’t do it.. she most likely wouldn’t be able to either. She had set Angie up in the basement with the flask as bait. Sure enough he would, it was part of his daughter after all.. Donna’s body and breath alike would start to tremble in fear as the sound of the front door opening signalled that the Winters father was here already. It made the most sense he would be here first, considering she lived the closest to Alcina. Donna wished she had Angie with her right now, but they both had to play their parts, or else her plan wouldn’t go as she wanted it to. When she sensed the man had reached for the flask, she worked her magic as the lights flickered in the workshop. Her fathers, dearly beloved workshop, and Angie, and the flask, was nowhere to be seen. Angie had placed the flask back on the pedestal where it was beforehand, sending it back under the floor hoping it wouldn’t be taken out again except for the day of the ceremony. Donna would wrap her arms around her legs, closing her eye and resting her forehead on her knees. She felt like a small child who was hiding from some kind of monster in the dark, and it hadn’t been the first time either. During a lot of Donna’s adult life, she had been childish in many different ways. Sometimes she had antics like a child which she played out with Angie, she surrounded herself with dolls and spoke to them constantly, she had her own little imaginative world inside her head, and she hid and fled like a small child would too, among many other things. It wasn’t her proudest moments, but she couldn’t help but think that way. She didn’t like confrontation, so fighting head on was out of the question, and besides, that was surely what got Alcina killed..

After a while, she knew Ethan had just exited the well with the breaker key, and this is where she really had to push her limit. After sharing her Cadou with Angie and most of her dolls, she was much weaker than she was before, and she hadn’t attempted so many huge hallucinations in a long while, but if she pulled this off, Mother would be so proud of her. She wanted that validation so, so much. And so, the chase began. The creature she had childishly named ‘Jimmy’ began to chase Ethan throughout her basement, and although it wasn’t real, it could still kill Ethan. She had always had a small interest in psychology and in one of her books she had figured out that someone could in fact die from hallucinations, the most common cause going ‘crazy.’ So, she thought she would test it out with one of Ethan’s biggest fears. Rosemary, and what would happen to her. It lasted for a while, but after her attempt to catch him off guard, it failed and he managed to escape the vile monster she had created. She wasn’t expecting him to make it this far, and at this point, she didn’t have any plan B. No nothing. She couldn’t just let him wander around forever because he would eventually find her, or the flask, and she couldn’t let that happen. She couldn’t let mother down.

Angie would be sat in the middle of the living room, lots of dolls placed all around the room as they made quiet, taunting sounds as the father walked through the door. Donna didn’t want to have to confront Ethan, knowing what he had done, but.. she was left with no other choice. It was either let Ethan get to her, or let Mother punish her for not fulfilling her duties. She would rather make Miranda proud. She would appear behind Angie, her voice low with a hint of anxiety.

“Don’t leave. I can’t let you.”

She would move her hands in such a way and Angie would float up to them, perching herself on Donna’s arm. “You’re still alive.. huh?” Donna would stare at Ethan through her veil, she could see through his expression that all he wanted was his daughter, and she felt some.. empathy for him. If it was her in his shoes, if it was Angie..

Her dolls would start to fly at Ethan with sharp objects, and as he waved them away Donna made herself disappear. She was still there, but she wasn’t to Ethan. “Better find me quick.. before my friends murder you!” Angie would make her way into Ethan’s personal space, getting all up into his face as the last of the dolls were pushed away. “Tick tock.. your life’s on the line.”

Angie would float out of the door, or that was what Ethan saw. Donna carried Angie out and made her way upstairs, sure that running would work, that he would perhaps get tired, or give up, or just not play this silly game. That’s how it would go, right? She would stay in the room with Angie planted on the floor, waiting anxiously for the man to burst through the door, and her worries were correct because he did just that. He walked over and reached out to Angie as he was returned to with a bite from the dolls mouth. Angie would start to wave her arms at Ethan as Donna held her. “Everything would be better if Rose wasn’t born!”

Donna didn’t know what she was expecting, but it wasn’t what happened next. “Fucking monster!” Ethan would pull a pair of her scissors out from his pocket, and would stab it into what seemed like Angie’s head, but was in fact, Donna. She cursed silently through the pain, as Angie laughed to cover up her quiet groans of discomfort as she quickly made an escape downstairs, touching the spot where she was stabbed and seeing the blood over her fingers and palm. She could barely breathe. This couldn’t be it, right..? She had to keep going, for Mother Miranda. For Angie. For her. Her whole life she hadn’t cared much wether she lived or died, but now that she was at the brink of death.. Well she didn’t quite know what to think. As she stumbled across the halls of what used to be a peaceful home, she pressed her bloodied hand on the wall as a way to balance herself, to stay standing and continue moving forward. She would clean it up later, after all of this happened.. If she even made it out alive.

She would hide again, this time in the living room, holding in tears as she felt her head growing dizzy, and her limbs growing weak. She would see the father enter the room and her heart beat faster and faster, she didn’t want him to hurt her, not again. But much to her dismay, he grabbed what he thought was Angie once more, and stabbed her straight through the head. Donna screamed out through Angie’s voice, her pain unbearable. “You do this to Rose, too?!” She would stumble out of the room, holding her head where it had been stabbed. It was bleeding profusely, and she was sure this was the end. She knew that in one more hit, she would be done. She made her way to one of the halls and sat down, her head dizzy and her sight going black. She could feel the life being drained from her body, and she didn’t know if it was peaceful, or absolute hell.

Once again, the angry father had found her and Angie, and she knew this was it. She couldn’t run, she couldn’t hide, or else Mother would be angry. She hoped she would be proud for all Donna had accomplished, for holding off Ethan this long. She hoped she had been a memorable daughter. She knew she would never pass Eveline, that much was clear, but she hoped she was a close second. Mother had given her a new life since her family had died, and yet, she was also the one who aided in taking her life away. Ethan would grab her one last time, his grip harsher than before and she would struggle, “You’re never going to get out of here!” Angie would laugh, and then scream as the scissors were stabbed into her, and taken back out. “Stupid idiot! What are you doing to my cute friends?!” And as the scissors plunged into her one last time, she would once again scream through Angie, her body going limp and quickly bleeding out. Ethan’s hallucination would stop, and the one thing Donna never wanted anyone to see was on display for the mere few seconds her body lay dead before crumbling into pieces.

yeah so um as I said I’m super rusty, and I haven’t proof read this as it’s now 7am (I’ve been writing since like 3-4am 💀) but I will proof read sometime and fix the mistakes if there are any (I’m sure there are). I also got lazy at the end.. 😭 I’ll be posting more tweets soon btw! I have a few stocked up 😻

I proof read and there were so many mistakes but I hope I got them all 🫶

#angie beneviento #donna beneviento #re8 #resident evil village #ethan winters #mother miranda #alcina dimitrescu #jimmy beneviento #karl heisenberg #re village #salvatore moreau #mia winters #rose winters #resident evil #resident evil 8 #the duke re8 #fanfic #fic writing #writing #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #justice for jimmy

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Brawls, Bruises, and New Beginnings

Cedric Diggory x gn! Reader

(1,528 words)

Reader gets into a heated tussle with a bully. You and Cedric exchange a few words while in the hospital wing.

Warnings/Tags: physical fighting, violence, injuries, intrusive thoughts, mentions of an emotionally abusive friendship, love confessions (finally something good!!)

Notes: saw cursed child on broadway and it got me back into my hp interest so obviously I had to write something about it, also we need more tough y/n rep so here’s that, enjoy the fic lol

-

“Hey! The fuck did you say?” You snapped, immediately getting to your feet and storming into the face of Millicent Bulstrode.

“Excuse me?” She asked, taken aback.

“Don’t you even start with me, we all heard what you said.” You looked over to Hermione, who seemed to be holding back tears, and then back to Millicent who stared back at you savagely. “Loud and clear.”

Millicent, never moving, stood her ground. “And what is it did I say exactly?” She mocked.

“You tell me, asswipe.” You came closer. You fixed your gaze on Millicent intensely. “Just know that if you say the exact words, you’re in serious shit.”

Millicent took a step back and scoffed. “Well it’s not MY fault the mudblood’s such-” You cut her off by decking her in the face.

“Wrong answer, shithead.”

The group that was beginning to form at the commotion gasped as Millicent stumbled back. After realizing there was an audience, Millicent got up and grabbed you by the collar. “You’re going to regret that!” She growled, throwing you into the ground.

You felt like the wind was knocked out of you as Millicent got on top of you. You could see she was winding up to return the punch. Thinking quickly, you reached up to scratch your nails into her neck. Millicent let out a harsh gasp and gripped at the reddened streaks on her neck. While she was distracted, you made an effort to get back up, but were rammed against a tree when she got her footing, throwing sloppy punches at one another the whole way. Adrenaline ripping through you.

“Is that all you got? Cmon! I like it rough!” You barked out a laugh as her fist repeatedly collided with your face. As you were getting punched, your head began to go fuzzy. You could hardly notice the prefects making their way to the area. It was then that you locked eyes with Cedric Diggory.

In that brief moment you felt weak. It wasn’t the punches or the pain that made you weak, but the look on his face. Were you seriously letting yourself lose a fight? In front of Cedric Diggory? The Cedric Diggory that you befriended and had a crush on for several months? That Cedric Diggory?

With that thought in mind, you brought your knee into Millicent’s stomach, leaving her on the ground with the wind knocked out of her, and you, victorious with a busted lip and several fresh bruises as a trophy.

As if your head wasn’t dizzy enough, Professor Mcgonagall had eventually made her way to you in all the commotion. Her angry scolding only worsened the pounding in your head. You had only managed to comprehend a few words of her rant.

“Detention! And fifty points from BOTH your houses!” Cedric and another girl from his house came forward. “Mr. Diggory, please have yourself and Ms. Abbott escort these two to the infirmary on OPPOSITE ENDS.” And with that, she stormed off.

-

The hospital wing was peaceful at dusk. The sun was still up, but down just enough for the sun’s brilliant golden rays to seep in through the windows. It was only you at the moment. Everyone else had left. Millicent had gone a couple hours ago, but Madam Pomfrey had insisted that you stay for the night. She believed you had suffered a minor concussion after getting your head knocked into by the tree. Unable to argue with her, you spent the rest of the day laying in bed staring at the ceiling, alone with your thoughts.

Cedric knew you were a hothead, but what was he going to think of you after this? Truthfully, you didn’t at all regret what you did. Millicent is one of Draco’s cronies who likes to needlessly shit on people for reasons as ridiculous as blood status. Hermione is one of the coolest classmates you know, even if you didn’t talk a lot, seeing her get insulted and get called derogatory names made your blood boil. But did it really make you angry, or were you just looking for a fight? Maybe a little of both.

Or were you?

Maybe, you’re just a violent person. Or perhaps you were looking for every excuse you could to just beat the shit out of her. You liked it, didn’t you? Of course you did. You would gladly do it again. You bet Cedric is gonna think you’re a real piece of shit for this one, huh? There’s no way he’s gonna talk to you or still be your friend after this. Cedric’s a nice boy. He’s so sweet, and kind. He’s the complete opposite of you. Why would such a nice boy ever want to be with a sadistic, violent, hateful-

“Hey there.” His soft voice was able to free you from your intrusive mental prison.

“Hey Cedric,” you sat up, voice full of relief. “Didn’t expect you to be here.”

“I wanted to see how you were feeling, you’re not in too much pain are you?” He asked.

“Not really, just a little sore is all.” You replied. You ran your thumb against your cut up lip and bruised cheek, slightly wincing at light pressure. “At least I got these though, I think they look kinda cool.” You chuckled.

Cedric grinned, “Hermione told me what happened, and I know that as a prefect I’m not really supposed to take sides,” Cedric set himself down of your bed. “But I thought what you did, was admirable.”

You blinked. Admirable? “Really?”

“And I’ll admit, I didn’t know you knew how to fight, especially like that,” Cedric chuckled.

“Thanks,” you grinned. “That’s actually good to hear.”

“Why’s that?” Cedric asked.

“I thought you’d be mad at me,” you looked down, averting his gaze. “You know, for getting needlessly violent.” Looking down at the bruises on your arms, you gently began to trace them. “Usually when I start to get physical, people uh, tend to not wanna be around me anymore.”

“What? Why would you think that?” Cedric asked patiently.

“Because there was this one time with my old muggle friends,” you began. “They didn’t realize that this one girl in the group was a horrible person, draining all of us with her lies and emotional abuse, you know how it is.”

“Not exactly, but please continue.”

You looked up at Cedric, who was listening intently. “Okay, so anyway we were all at a birthday party and she was bugging me all night and then, she got physical with me.” Sitting up, you continued. “Long story short, I defended myself and kicked her ass while doing it, and the rest of the friend group was totally mortified, in that moment, I saw the look in their eyes, and it was fear, anger, or something like that, and I could see that they thought I was fucked up for beating her up even though deep down, we were all her victims.”

You paused, fingers beginning to fidget with your bruises. “Eventually, the rest of us came back together after that whole fiasco and got over it, but at that time, I knew the hurt and lies and manipulation wouldn’t stop unless someone did something about it, but in that moment when I threw that first punch, they couldn’t see that.” You gazed into Cedric’s eyes for a brief moment and saw something you had never seen before: Understanding. Your voice softened, “I didn’t want to lose you like I lost them, not even for a minute like that.”

Cedric’s look of understanding turned compassionate. “I’m sorry.” He said.

“No need to apologize, I mean, I’m sorry I started it, I didn’t have a choice,” You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m sorry I’m such a shitty person.”

“That’s not true.” You felt Cedric’s hand on yours. “I get it,” he leaned in. “You feel guilty, and it’s understandable.” His thumb began tracing over your bruises, stopping your fidgeting. “You’re not a terrible person for defending others or yourself, it just shows that you are an incredibly strong person who isn’t afraid to stand up for things you believe in.”

“Thanks,” you whispered. “That actually means a lot, and I uh, really do appreciate it.”

“No, thank you,” Cedric leaned in, pressing his lips softly against yours. “Thank you for being so courageous.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as your lips parted slightly. For a few moments you were motionless, completely surprised, staring at him until your increasing giddiness forced out a giggle. “What was that for?”

“You said you didn’t want to lose me,” He smiled softly, not taking his eyes off yours. “This is my way of showing you that it won’t happen.” Cedric gently took your bandaged hand and interlaced his fingers with yours. “I really like you, you know?”

Your cheeks flushed at the intensity of his gaze. “I’m glad the feeling’s mutual.” You grinned and and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace to kiss him again. This time longer, more passionate, and more gentle, with the added assurance of knowing that despite it all, you wouldn’t lose Cedric.

#cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory x gn reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory fanfic #mia writes harry potter!!!

[threewaywithdelusion]

Roy/Keeley/Jamie Fic Snippet

This is an except from a longer fic I'm writing. The set up is that at this point Roy, Keeley, and Jamie are doing V-shaped polyamory because Roy refuses to date Jamie while he's his coach. They're all aware of their feelings for each other though. Takes places post S3.

October brought with it the Rainbow Laces Campaign. A decade in, it was fairly uncontroversial to wear rainbow laces for two weekends in October to show support for the LGBTQ+ community. Roy admired the goals of the campaign, and he thought it had made some progress. There was even a player out in the Championship League. 

But Roy also knew that locker room culture was hard to change. The homophobic jokes at Richmond hadn’t stopped until Colin had come out and this was their first Rainbow Laces Campaign since. 

The lads seemed extra determined to do it right this year, in a show of solidarity for Colin. 

Every single player had committed to wearing the rainbow laces and Isaac’s captain armband was rainbow as well. Rebecca had set a policy that any homophobic slurs would get a fan immediately tossed out from the stands. 

All the rainbow in his face everywhere he looked made Roy think about his own sexuality. It wasn’t something he’d given a lot of thought throughout his life. The people he’d found attractive had been mostly women and while he’d occasionally found men alluring as well, he simply hadn’t acted on it because of football. It hadn’t been particularly hard — not when there were so many beautiful women looking to date or shag a famous footballer. Then men he’d found attractive had been few and far between and he’d never had an emotional connection with any of them, so it had never been anything worse pursuing. 

Until Jamie. 

The week before Rainbow Laces kicked off, Roy cooked dinner for the three of them. They were in the kitchen, Roy at the stove, Keeley at her computer working on promo for the team, and Jamie sitting on the counter and looking pretty. 

“I talked to Colin,” Keeley said. “He doesn’t want us to even hint at having a gay player on the team. So all of the Richmond Rainbow Laces promo has to talk about the queer community generally, so no one will point fingers.”

Roy hummed as he checked on the potatoes in the oven, extra cheesy the way Keeley liked. 

“But he’s not the only gay player on the team,” Jamie said. 

Roy turned around. 

Jamie was frowning at Keeley, who closed her laptop to give him her full attention. 

“But Colin doesn’t know that, does he, babe?”

“I suppose not,” Jamie said, looking torn. “I know Jake Daniels is out in the Championship League and everyone does all this rainbow shit every year. I just. I remember being a little lad and getting my first crush on a boy and thinking it was the worst thing in the world because if anyone found out, I would never get to play football. Not like this. Not at this level.”

Oh. 

Roy hadn’t realized that sexuality was such a big deal for Jamie. He’d figured Jamie was like Roy, a bloke who’d gone through life mostly without caring about finding boys attractive or what that said about him. 

But this was part of Jamie. This secrecy and shame and fear was part of what had shaped him into the man he was. 

“What are you?” Roy asked gracelessly.

Jamie frowned. “What?”

“You said gay, to Keeley,” Roy said. “But I just realized I’ve never asked. What are you?”

“I’m bisexual,” Jamie said slowly, looking surprised. “Like Keeley. Aren’t you?”

Roy grunted and shrugged. 

“But you like chicks?” Jamie asked. 

Roy nodded. 

“And you like blokes?”

“Some blokes,” Roy said. 

Jamie planted his hands on the counter behind him, leaning back and spreading his legs invitingly. He tilted his chin up like a dick and smirked. “Oh, yeah? What kind of blokes get you going?”

“You’re a prick,” Roy said, turning back to the stove. 

Keeley laughed, bright and loud, and Roy basked in the sound of her joy.

“So you don’t have a label?” Jamie asked. 

Roy kept facing the stove. “No. It never really mattered to me.”

“What didn’t?” Keeley asked. “Labels? Or your sexuality?”

“My sexuality,” Roy said uncomfortably. “I never felt like it defined me.”

“But wasn’t it scary, like?” Jamie asked. “Being a gay footballer?”

“I never felt like a gay footballer,” Roy said honestly. “I just felt like… Roy Kent, who occasionally checks out bloke’s arses.”

“A very straight thing to do,” Keeley says imperiously. Then, “You don’t need to label yourself, babe.”

The oven timer beeped and Roy pulled the potatoes out and set them on the stovetop to cool while he finished with the chicken. It was almost done, golden brown on both sides. 

“It matters to me,” Jamie said, voice small. 

Roy heard movement behind him and when he peeked over his shoulder he saw that Keeley had moved to stand between Jamie’s legs. 

“And that’s okay too,” she said. 

Roy grunted in agreement. 

He knew Keeley had realized her sexuality young and had dated women for a large portion of her twenties. He knew she was open about it, both at Richmond and to the few magazines that had asked. She’d always seemed so settled about being bisexual, like it wasn’t a big deal but also wasn’t a part of her worth hiding. When she’d started dating Jack, Roy had been hurt to see Keeley with someone else but he hadn’t been at all surprised to see her with a woman. 

He couldn’t imagine Jamie’s experience growing up bisexual. His mum would probably have been fine with it, if he’d told her, but Jamie’s dad would have hurt him if he knew. Jamie had carried ideas about toughness and masculinity with him to his first year at Richmond and he’d been an absolute prick. But it must have hurt a lot before he learned to harden himself against the pain. It must have hurt to think that the thing you loved most in the world wouldn’t love you back if you showed who you truly were. 

Roy imagined a young Jamie laying in his childhood bedroom wishing to be different and it made his heart hurt. 

Then Jamie’s words came to him: I hung a picture of her on my wall, didn’t I?

He thought of the poster of Keeley holding two footballs in front of her chest, hung right next to a poster of a much younger, much hairier Roy. 

He thought of Jamie’s reluctance to answer Keeley’s question about his first celebrity crush and the way he’d only answered once Keeley had stuck the word “woman” in the question. 

“Holy fucking shit,” Roy said. He turned around and and pointed at Jamie. “Who was your first celebrity crush?”

Jamie gave him a crooked grin, while Keeley hid her laugh against the skin of Jamie’s forearm. “Finally figured that out, did you grandad?”

“Who was your first celebrity crush?” Roy asked, stalking closer. Roy’s kitchen was pretty big, but he still somehow found himself pressed against Keeley between Jamie’s legs, Jamie grinning cockily down at both of them. 

“Well, I hung a picture of him on my wall, didn’t I?” Jamie asked, smirking. 

“Fuck,” Roy said. 

He’d been Jamie’s first celebrity crush. 

It was slightly weird, being reminded how much older he was than Jamie. But it also made him immensely aware of the scant centimeters between his hips and the insides of Jamie’s thighs. Made him feel the electricity arcing between them. 

“Oh, wow, you both have a praise kink,” Keeley said. 

It broke the spell. 

“What the fuck?” Roy demanded. “I don’t have a praise kink.”

“Your pupils got absolutely massive when Jamie said he masturbated to your poster on his wall,” Keeley said. 

“Oi! I didn’t say that.” Jamie blushed a pretty shade of pink and Keeley gave Roy a conspiratorial wink. 

“But it’s true,” she said, still instigating shit. She leaned in close enough that her lips brushed Roy’s ear then said, loud enough for Jamie to hear, “So’s the praise kink.”

Roy choked on his own saliva and almost missed the sound of Jamie’s whine. 

Keeley grinned wickedly. “I think dinner’s ready, don’t you?”

She pushed Roy back and casually sauntered from between Jamie’s legs, heading to the table. 

Roy looked at Jamie, whose eyes trailed after Keeley before meeting Roy’s. 

“She’s trying to kill us,” Jamie said. 

“Yeah,” Roy said. 

Five minutes later they were seated at the table and Roy’s hard-on had mostly gone down. Jamie had also been squirming in his seat the first few minutes but Keeley ate like she was absolutely unaffected. 

Roy knew she was having fun fucking with them, but he was impressed by her acting chops. He could never have acted that casual while this turned on. All he could see was Jamie’s red bitten lips and the hickey on Keeley’s breast just barely peeking out above her collar.

“You have to talk to Colin,” Keeley said, drawing Roy’s attention back to the conversation. 

“What?” Jamie asked. 

“If you want to say someone on the team is gay, you have to talk to Colin. Even if you’re only hinting at yourself, the media will speculate and every single player on the team will get scrutinized. Including Colin, who already said he doesn’t want the attention.”

Jamie nodded a few times. “What do I do if he says no?”

“I think you already know the answer to that, Jamie,” Keeley said. 

“Yeah,” Jamie said, looking dejected. 

***

The next day at training, Roy saw Jamie drag Colin into the boot room. They were in there a long time and Roy had to fight the urge to burst in and see what was going on. He knew Colin wasn’t going to react badly or hurt Jamie, but Roy couldn’t stand the idea of Jamie in there alone. 

A long twenty minutes later, Colin came out of the boot room with a dazed smile on his face. 

Roy pushed his way inside and found Jamie sitting on the bench, looking shell-shocked and disappointed. 

Roy took a seat next to Jamie and pulled Jamie’s head into his shoulder. Jamie curled into him, wrapping an arm around Roy’s waist. 

“He said no?”

“He said no.”

***

That weekend they played Newcastle and every player wore rainbow laces. At the post-game press conference, Roy said generic things about supporting the LGBTQ community. 

They didn’t mention a gay player on the team. 

***

The next weekend, they were playing Arsenal. Right before the match, Keeley came into the locker room, one hand half-heartedly over her eyes as she called out a warning that she was walking in. 

Roy, standing at the whiteboard with Beard and Nate, watched as she beelined straight for Jamie and threw something in his lap. When Jamie held it up, Roy saw that it was shoelaces in pink, purple, and blue. 

Jamie gave Keeley a look of wide-eyed panic and confusion.

The whole team looked on as Keeley smiled and said, “To support your bisexual girlfriend.”

Jamie’s grin was a slow thing, unfurling until it occupied his whole face. He tugged Keeley down, giving her a dirty kiss. 

“You do not have to stick your tongue down her throat in front of everyone,” Jan Maas complained. 

Keeley and Jamie flipped Jan Maas off in synchronicity. 

“Oi, Tartt!” Roy yelled. “No being a prick without the signal.”

“Yes, Coach,” Jamie said, eyes shining. He immediately started unlacing his boots so he could switch to the bi laces. 

Keeley came over to Roy, smiling. He couldn’t help but smile at the look of pride on her face and the smile on Jamie’s and he heard Colin mutter, “his face knows how to do that?”

“And for you,” Keeley said, pulling a plastic whistle on a pink, purple, and blue lanyard out of her pocket. “So they don’t say Jamie’s the only boyfriend who supports me.”

Roy took the whistle. “I hope you don’t expect me to blow this thing.”

“That’s what she said!” shouted one of the lads. 

“I would never,” Keeley said, smiling. She pulled him into a kiss as well, before announcing to the room as a whole, “Good luck boys! I’ll be cheering you on from Rebecca’s box.”

As soon as she left, everyone started talking at once. 

Roy made eye contact with Jamie and he could tell that they were both thinking the same thing. I love her so much. 

Then Colin drew Jamie’s attention, gesturing at the shoelaces with a tentative smile, and the moment was gone. 

#ted lasso #ted lasso ot3 #roykeeleyjamie #roy x keeley x jamie #roy kent #keeley jones #jamie tartt #mia writes fanfic #I wrote this tonight and haven't edited yet #so don't hold me to anything #this is not the final version #I'm taking feedback if you have any #afc richmond

[amaretta]

Am I in your head Half as often as you're on my mind? D&D Monday and I'm daucnhigushvskjdgfjhfk It will be fine, I'm sure.

#dnd oc #dungeons and dragons #dnd drama #original character #half elf #digital artist #fantasy portrait #i may or may not have written up fanfic #is it still fanfic when you write about your own characters #anyway i'm obsessed and i love them #keldan is still MIA in the game though

[harryforvogue]

the one where mia still hates horror movies and harry gets distracted far too easily. this contains smut and is about 4k words. happy reading <3

***

“I do not want to watch this,” Mia says for the fourth time in the past ten minutes. Normally, her insistence of not trying anything new would bother Harry, who’s typing the movie’s title into the streaming platform for tonight's choice, but he doesn’t pay much attention to her. Because he’s waited several months for the movie to start streaming. And he’s not going to let his girlfriend talk him out of watching it.

She’s already done it once. When it came out in the movie theaters, he’d asked Mia to watch it with him, only to be hit with just a resounding “NO” that he never brought himself to ask again. It’s not as if anyone else would go see it with him anyways. His sister only goes to the movies to see comedies. Zack only goes to the cinema to fall asleep in a comfortable recliner, and anyone else would just piss Harry off too much.

He’d asked Mia once and then never again. It was a risk asking her anyways. She doesn’t like horror films. But Harry can’t help loving them. And he goes to see whatever she wants to in the cinema.

So after waiting long months and avoiding spoilers like the plague, the movie is finally out and Harry will not let his wimp of a girlfriend stop him from enjoying it.

So he shrugs in response to her petulance and flips the duvet back over her side of the bed. “Fine. Then, don’t.”

“But I want to spend time with you.”

He flips the duvet again, patting the mattress invitingly. “Then come.”

“No.”

Flip. “Okay.”

“Why can’t we watch something we both want?”

“Because I have been waiting for this movie for a long time and I haven’t seen a decent horror film in months. Look.” He sighs and gestures to the shopping bag he came home with. “I’ve got your favorite snacks. And you don’t have to watch all of it. Just come here and look away when it gets really bad.”

Harry removes a bag of popcorn and opens it. He pops one in his mouth and smiles, tilting his head back on the stack of pillows behind him. He holds his hand out. “Come here, baby.”

“No. I don’t like you.”

“Mhmm. Come here.”

She stares at him for several long seconds and then gives in, reaching for his hand. Harry knows she’s not going to be able to resist him.

Mia’s spent the entire day following him around like a lost puppy, running her hand over his face. He’s grown out a bit of stubble, which Mia is completely enamored by. She’s not a fan of facial hair normally, but he’s tidied it up a lot. He’s cleaned up his upper cheeks and neck. She’s kissed his face several times today.

She’s also been very vocal about his hair. The way one side of it flops over his brow. It’s long enough now that his curl pattern is returning. It’s more like a wave right now, but Mia seems to be loving it.

He slides her closer once she’s in bed, settling the duvet around her. She even opens her mouth when he presses popcorn to her lips.

“Can you just tell me when something is about to happen?”

Mia’s already got her arms around him, laying right beneath his shoulder. She takes a deep breath, but Harry knows she’s actually taking in his scent. She does it a lot. He especially loves it when her shoulders relax after she smells him. He wraps his arm around her waist.

“I haven’t seen the movie so I don’t know when it’ll get scary but I’ll try my best.”

She’s not satisfied with that answer, judging by the way she slides down and mumbles something along the lines of “yeah, whatever”.

He presses play and then reaches over to turn his lamp off.

Mia immediately complains, “No, it’s too dark. Now it’ll get too scary.”

Harry takes a small handful of popcorn and pushes it into her mouth. “Shut up.”

She accepts the popcorn and chews angrily. But at least she stays silent after that.

The movie starts the way all horror movies do: happy. And Mia watches silently. Somewhere around the five minute mark, she reaches for Harry’s hand and tucks it under her chin. Occasionally, she’ll press a kiss to it before returning her attention to the screen.

But of course, the tensions begin to brew, and Mia’s hand tightens around Harry’s, almost to the point of discomfort. And after the first jumpscare (and scream from Mia), Harry sighs and raises the duvet, throwing it over her head. 

“Just stay there until the scene passes,” he says, partially to help her, but mostly to avoid his eardrum bursting from her next scream.

She slides down and buries her face in his stomach, whining. “I hate this.”

He pats her covered head. “I know.”

“I hate you.”

“Totally.”

“I wanna watch something else.”

“Mm, too bad.”

“I can’t breathe down here.”

“Also too bad.”

She groans and raises Harry’s shirt, putting her head against the flat plane of his stomach, where his butterfly tattoo rests. His muscles clench as he bites down a laugh. She sighs and kisses his skin before laying her cheek down.

“You know,” he says, once he’s contained himself, “saying you can’t breathe and then putting another layer over your face isn’t the smartest decision.”

“I could punch your dick right now and you wouldn’t be able to do anything,” Mia retorts.

She’s got him there. Harry knows she won’t do anything, but if he’s learned anything about her, it’s that it’s best not to provoke her to the edge of insanity.

He just pats her head and continues watching.

Mia says, “I can still hear it.”

“I can’t really help with that, baby.”

She presses her fingers to his hip, poking hard. He doesn’t shift, but he’s suddenly very aware of where her hand is. How close it is to…other places.

Her fingers walk over to the other hip, slowly, exploring his warm skin as if it’s the first time. Harry swallows and doesn’t move, letting her. He waits for her fingers to dip a little lower towards his sweats, and nearly groans when she pauses at the knot of his pants.

Without uttering a word, Mia slowly undoes the knot and waits a second as if she’s expecting him to stop her.

He would never ask her to stop.

And after a moment, she slowly drags her hand over his thighs, pushing her fingers against the rigid muscles, and then finally slides her hand into his sweats. Harry freezes, holding his breath. His screen is showing some violent scene, but his head is filled with Mia and what she’s doing. His attention is barely on the movie when she takes him into her hand.

He’s already half hard. He faintly hears her giggle. 

“Mia,” he says.

“What?” she replies innocently. Her hands move over his clothed dick, slowly, softly. Almost tenderly He knows she must be feeling how he’s getting harder by the second. Mia removes her head from under his shirt and peeks up at him out of the duvet. “What?” she repeats, dragging out the word.

“Have I ever told you what an utter pest you are?”

“Not enough clearly. Hasn’t gotten through my thick skull.”

She strokes him again, and Harry tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief. She has such a control on him. He reaches blindly for the remote and pauses it, thankfully at a not so gruesome scene, and lets Mia come out of her hiding spot. She grins at him, reaching up to straddle his hips. Her arms fling themselves around his neck.

The movie is completely forgotten about when Mia kisses him. He holds her tight to his chest, leaning into the kiss to reciprocate. She holds his curls between her fingers tightly, presses herself against him. Her teeth bite down on his lower lip, just the way he likes it, and she whimpers into his mouth when his own hand tangles into her hair to give it a sharp tug.

He needs to be on top of her. So he flips her over, making her laugh in the process, and pins her wrists down to the mattress. Her eyes are lit with an intense fire, her pretty mouth pink, and her hips raising to meet his. He gathers her wrists in one hand to secure them above her head, and uses his other to open her legs, slotting himself in between.

“Just one night,” Harry whispers, kissing down her neck. She gasps and squirms under him. “I just want one night where we get to watch a movie of my choice. Why must you always act up?”

“It’s fun,” she whispers back, raising her head to kiss him. He kisses her passionately, but too briefly. Moving away from her, he works on her shorts, gently pushing them down to her calves until she’s able to kick them off herself. “Getting you all annoyed is so fun.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, because you never get angry. Just all worked up.”

“It’s an everyday thing with you.”

“That’s why you love me,” she gasps as he works on his own sweats, pushing them down and off the bed. He leans down and kisses her neck again, all the way down to her shoulders. Between her collarbones rests a pendant he bought her for her birthday a few months back and he decides he’ll leave that on. But nothing else will stay between them.

He releases her wrists and makes a quick work of removing both his shirt and hers. “Amongst other reasons, but you being the most insufferable person I have to deal with daily is definitely at the top.”

She bites away a smile and wraps her arms around his neck. “I was gonna use my mouth.”

Harry swallows. “Thought you just wanted attention.”

“That too, but I wanted to taste you.”

He lets her go, rolling off her body and sitting against the headboard. “Go ahead.”

She looks very determined suddenly. She reaches for a hair tie on her wrists, but discovers none, so Harry says, “It’s all right, I’ll do it.”

She nods. After the removal of clothes, she’s left in a tanktop and underwear, while Harry’s just in his briefs, which are also lost when she pulls them down and wraps her hand around him again. Harry can’t just not touch her, so before she begins, he pulls her closer and gently thumbs her clit through her underwear. Her eyebrows immediately scrunch with pleasure as she grinds herself against his palm, but he lets her go soon after.

“Rude,” she says, eyes already hazy. It’s so easy to get her riled up too.

He bites back a swear and watches her lean over him. She doesn’t take him into her mouth immediately. As he reaches over to turn his lamp back on, Mia slides down between his legs and kisses his thighs.

She looks up at him through her lashes and he nearly groans, the sight of her making him grow harder. He takes her hair, making it into a ponytail and lets her do her work.

She raises her head. “You can…you know.”

He absolutely knows what she means. 

Mia’s hair is very long. It’s always been long ever since he’s known her, and so he wraps the silky brown strands around his knuckles and tugs hard. She whines and lets him pull her slightly up. She opens her mouth and gently takes him in.

Her tanktop’s strap slides down her shoulders, but neither of them pay it any mind. Mia knows how to treat him well, from the careful suction of her mouth, to the hand around him that strokes him, meeting her mouth. Hot need pulses through him as she bobs her head, taking her time with him.

Harry knows that after a while, Mia gets tired of working her mouth over his cock, so he prepares himself to take over once it happens. He pulls on her hair, enjoying the sound she makes at the back of her throat when he does. He lifts his hips up, just barely, and Mia’s nails dig into his hips in response.

“Fuck,” Harry whispers, lovingly tucking her hair that’s escaped his grip away from her face. “You are unbelievable.”

Accompanied by a soft gasp, she pulls off of him, her lips shiny with spit, chest heaving for breath. “I learned from the best.”

With that nod to their previous relationship, she wraps her lips around his tip and focuses there, using her hand to run up and down his shaft. His fist tightens around her hair, his other hand grasping the duvet hard enough to make his knuckles go all white.

Mia’s eyes flutter shut and she runs her tongue along the underside of his tip where she knows it feels best.

Her cold necklace dragging along the inside of his thigh mixed with the heat of her mouth makes him go near insane. He tugs on her hair, mumbles praises, and throws his head back in pleasure.

“Going to treat you so good after this,” he whispers, raising his hips again. She chokes softly, but doesn’t mind. “You deserve the world for how good you make me feel.”

It’s not a new promise, per se. Mia’s been hinting about how Harry’s facial hairy may feel between her legs. 

She hums in agreement and doubles her efforts. Harry slowly begins to work with her, carefully pushing down the way she likes whenever she’s sucking him off. He’s been told by Mia that she likes the encouragement from him. He never pushes it too far, but he’s not one to deny her of anything. When he brushes against the back of her throat, she chokes again, pulling up for air.

“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, running his thumb over her mouth. He smears her left over lip tint from the day.

“It’s okay,” she says, her voice hoarse. “You wanna take over?”

“Sure.” He releases her hair and lets her adjust herself before handing herself over to him. “Actually.” He says, reaching over a pillow. He throws it over the side of the bed and sits up. “That’ll be easier.”

She nods, getting up. She slides off the side of the bed and then kneels between his thighs when he goes to sit on the edge as well. He gathers her hair back into a ponytail. “Comfortable?”

“Yeah.” She looks up at him with wide eyes, smiling. She rests her cheek on his thigh and closes her eyes briefly. Harry presses his thumb to her mouth and lets her suck on his finger for a moment. When she bites down on him, he decides it’s enough, pulling on her hair to get her back up.

In a flash, she’s ready to go again, opening her mouth. She doesn't need to do anything this time, letting Harry guide her head and set the pace. He’s not gentle about it. Neither of them are in the mood for gentleness.

He presses in and out of her quickly, enjoying the scrunch of her nose and the fire in her eyes as she keeps up the best she can, eyes trained solely on him. When she coughs, Harry pulls out, just leaves the tip on her tongue. After she clears her throat, he pushes in again and keeps pushing until her eyes close and she focuses on not choking.

“I fucking love you,” he breathes. He drags one hand down the side of her jaw and then wraps his hand carefully around her neck. Her eyes fly open, tears in them. He releases her neck and wipes a stray tear from her eyelash. “So much. You make my life so much better, Mia.”

She makes a noise that identifies something along the lines of “is this really the time to be saying these things?” and Harry laughs through the tightness in his lower stomach. After a few more bobs, Harry releases her and lets her breathe.

Mia turns her head and coughs once. Then she turns back to him.

“Don’t really feel like coming in your mouth today,” Harry murmurs, sliding his thumb back into her awaiting mouth. She blinks the tears out of her eyes.

“Why not?” she asks around his finger, blinking up at him.

“Have something else in mind.”

Her eyes light up with excitement. Harry’s plans for the bedroom are always amazing, no matter how spontaneous.

“Bend over the bed,” he says, standing up to give her space. “And take off the top. I’m hot just from looking at you in clothes still.”

She hurries to do as she’s told. She’s done taking off her tank top when Harry returns from the closet with one of her vibrators. He goes to the bathroom to wash it off quickly and when he’s back, she’s bent over the bed, looking up at him, intrigued.

“Here,” he says, handing it over to her. She takes it, and then he disappears behind her. She peeks over at him, but he just pushes her underwear down, kissing her spine. He seems to kiss every vertebrae, her hips, and her thighs. But finally, he stands up, carefully spreads her legs, and slowly pushes into her.

Mia’s gasps and Harry whispers, “Fuck.”

He starts at an even pace, spreading his hands over her hips. He doesn’t pull her along with him when he retreats. Instead, he fucks her into the mattress, his speed building gradually.

“Fuck! Harry, I– wait Can… I use this?” Mia asks, her eyes closed, holding the wand tightly in her grasp.

“Yes, go ahead, baby.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice. She slides her arm between her legs and turns the wand on, pressing it to her clit. Immediately, she cries out, her free hand holding the sheets hard. Harry drags his hand over the skin of her back, enjoying the way her muscles tense and release with every thrust he gives her. Mia’s mumbling into the sheets, swearing, moaning.

Harry presses his hand against her shoulder blades and makes her drop her head to the mattress. Her whimpers are muffled but nonstop. Her shoulders shake with emotion as Harry holds himself up by resting a hand on the mattress, speeding up his thrusts.

She takes him so well, his body hot from the feel of her walls around him. He could stay here for days. Weeks. Just basking in her warmth, the sound of her pleasure filled cries, her trembling thighs.

His thrusts deviate from relying on speed to intensity. They begin to get harder, and she jolts every time he gives her a rough thrust. When she picks her head up to breathe, she’s sobbing, “I love you. I love you. I love you so much, it feels so good. So good. Feels so fucking good. You always feel so fucking–”

“Fuck,” Harry says with an edge of a laugh. He has to hold her hips to make sure her knees don’t give out from such pleasure. “I love you too, baby.”

“No,” she cries, “like I really really love you.”

He laughs again, digging his fingers into her hips. It’ll leave marks and he’ll be kissing the bruises later, apologizing while Mia cards her own fingers through his hair gently, assuring him it’s all right. “I know,” he says now. “That’s why you’re going to come for me, right?” Mia’s already nodding her head before he’s finished with his sentence. “Going to show me how much you love me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please, yes!”

“Go ahead then, my love. Show me.”

Mia gasps and near shrieks at the intensity of her orgasm, and her pulsating walls send her spiraling towards his own orgasm. She holds her vibrator to her clit throughout the entire time, sobbing into the sheets with her eyes tightly shut. His hands hold her hips tight as he buries himself inside of her one last time, groaning through his release. He drops his head against her back and catches his breath, still kissing her skin while his lungs ache.

The sound of the vibrator falling against the floor makes both of them open their eyes and glance at each other. Harry’s the first one to laugh, wrapping his arms around her when her knees finally give out and she nearly falls on the floor. He holds her up and gently helps her back onto the bed when she dramatically lays on her front, sniffling.

“Are you alright?”

Mia nods. “Mhmm.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Harry wipes her face clean of any tears. Her hair is covering half her face and he fixes that so he can see into her pretty grey eyes. Her lip looks red from her biting down on his, her cheeks flushed.

“I love you,” he whispers, poking her cheek.

“I can tell,” she croaks back. He smiles, throwing the duvet over her naked body to make sure she doesn’t get cold. She seems too tired to do anything but lay there.

So Harry is the one who gets up to go to the bathroom and clean himself off. He returns with a washcloth, flips her over, kisses her softly for several long seconds, and then wipes the remainder of the makeup from her face, as well as the inside of her thighs.

Mia watches him do all of it with tired eyes, running her hand gently through his hair. His curls are all messy. “I like your hair like this,” she says when Harry’s folding the washcloth. He tosses it into the hamper and turns his head to kiss her palm.

“I thought you liked my long hair.”

“I did. But this is so nice too.”

He kisses her palm again, leaning down to kiss her mouth next. “You are so nice.” He kisses her slowly, savoring her taste.

She suddenly smiles, finding the strength to push herself up to her elbows. Harry’s busy kissing down her neck to her breasts, his arms tight around her when she says, “No more movie tonight.”

He laughs. “Was this all a plan of yours?”

“Nope, but it worked out great, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I’m really in the mood to finish the movie now.”

Mia frowns. “What? No. No!”

“Come on, baby. It was just getting good.”

Mia’s already putting her head back under the covers. “Nope. No. Absolutely not. No way.”

Harry laughs, resting his body on top of hers. Mia peeks her head back out and wheezes from his weight, but he just kisses her face repeatedly. “Alright. No movie. Just kiss me a little bit, yeah?”

The color returns to her face when she manages to shove him off. “Fine! Just. Turn the light off and come back to me, please.”

And with that command, Harry is once reminded that he’s not the type to ever say no to his love. He does as he's told.

#harry and mia #it's relatively short compared to other harry and mia blurbs but i hope it's good enough #i love dom harry but i also like the funny laughing during sex harry #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles x oc #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing

[multicolour-ink]

Back at it again with another Mia and Pio Mario fic! This fic was originally planned to be inserted in an updated version of I've Never Left Your Side, but then I realised that it would be much more reliable to just write mini stories set in their own pocket of time ^^

This takes place sometime between the first and second scans of Mia's pregnancy. There is once again implied nsfw. If you are not comfortable with that, maybe skip this one.

Further author's notes under the cut

- - -

The Changes of Now, Brings Us Closer In The Moment

"Mia?", called Pio as he stepped inside the hall.

He already knew that there was no one else in the house. Arthur and Tony were at their jobs, while Pa was out attending bingo with some old friends.

"Here", called Mia from their bedroom.

He knocked once before stepping inside. He found Mia standing in front of the mirror Her hands were gently caressing her exposed bump. She was smiling, but it was faint, and her eyebrows were knitted into a frown.

"Amore?", said Pio cautiously, his heart staring to race a little. "Everything ok?"

Mia turned to regard him.

"Am I doing enough?", she asked quietly.

He was taken aback by the question.

"What do you mean? Mia, are you alright?! Are the babies ok?!"

"Yes yes, they're fine", said Mia, quick to sooth his nerves.

His eyes darted from her face, to her belly, and then back again to her face, and his heart stuttered at the fact that he could see tears glistening in her eyes. He cautiously approached her, holding out his arms, and she fell into them almost immediately.

"Do you want to talk about it?", he spoke softly into her hair.

"Oh Pio", Mia sighed. "I don't know why I'm even fretting over this. I just feel so..."

She stepped back a little and pressed her palms to her eyes.

"I'm just...so overwhelmed. There's so many emotions brewing inside me all at once."

She paused to take a breath, for she was having trouble speaking. She placed a hand on her stomach; it trembled a little, like she felt undeserving of the contact.

"I love them so much", she said. "And I haven't even met them yet."

She laughed at the last part through her choked voice and watery eyes.

"I just want to do everything I can for them. You're working so hard to provide. Marie has been wonderful helping us get stuff. Tony and Arthur are shaping up to be good uncles already. And Pa is so excited! Meanwhile, I'm just sitting here and waiting!"

Pio felt as if he couldn't breathe. He couldn't stand seeing her like this. And he wouldn't let her be any longer.

He pulled her closer so that her forehead rested against his. Then he reached down and placed a hand on her belly.

"Oh Mia. I don't think you realise how much you're doing already. You're carrying something so precious. You're doing more than any of us combined."

She smiled at him, but it didn't quite meet her eyes.

"They deserve so much. And here I am complaining. I feel so selfish."

She trailed off after that last word, her lip trembling.

Pio held her tighter.

"You're allowed to feel this way, amore. Despite what you said, I wish I could be here all day with you. I want to be there every moment with you and the babies."

"And you are!", she assured him, brushing a hand through his hair. "Nothing makes me as happy than when you get home and I can tell you what the babies have been up to all day."

He smiled, a profound feeling coming over him.

"You're so full of love, Mia. Always putting others before yourself. I want to remind you that you're deserving of that love back."

He trailed his hand up into her hair, stroking her temple as they stood lost in each other's eyes.

The air was growing warmer and heavier. Something familiar and desperate had come over them both, and they sensed the other's growing anticipation.

He didn't fail to notice the seductive way she pulled herself towards him, her hands gracing his arms and then his back.

"And I you", said Mia. "I'm so thankful that you've stuck with me all this time "

"I'm always here. For the rest of our lives."

Her husband eyed her intensely, and then he made the next move, trailing kisses over her shoulder. Emphasising each one with loving words.

Mia could sense the intense feeling inside her growing all the more. So powerful that she felt it close to shattering.

She let out a breath that she hadn't realised she had been holding, and let him love her.

* * *

She awoke some time later with Pio holding her in a loving embrace, his hand entangled in her hair.

He sensed her waking, and opened his eyes.

"Hello, amore", Mia smiled.

"Hello, mia bella dea", said Pio, kissing her on the lips.

She giggled as he nuzzled her nose. Then she looked at him, suddenly serious.

"You know, we need to be careful. If we keep this up, we'll end up with more babies."

She burst out laughing at the look on his face.

"I'm joking!", she shrieked.

She suddenly stopped laughing when she realised that he wasn't joining in.

She sat up a little, and felt her whole body turn cold at how downcast he looked.

"Pio? Oh Pio I'm sorry! It was just a joke!"

"No no, it's not that", Pio quickly assured her. He looked distracted, like he was trying to work out what to say before it had properly formed.

"Then tell me, amore", Mia coaxed. She laid back down and caressed her fingers through his hair.

"It's just...", Pio swallowed, unsure of himself. He reached up and cupped her face.

"Amore, please do not mishear what I am about to say. We are blessed. So very blessed. And I could not be more happier. We're so lucky. But....I can't help but feel like I have put too much on you so soon."

He watched her brows furrow in confusion before continuing.

"Those things you said earlier, they reminded me...that you wouldn't be in this situation if it weren't for me. That night, in the other world, all I could think about was loving you more than I ever have in my entire years of living...We've always been careful before, but that night, I didn't stop and think. I just wanted you so bad."

"As did I", Mia stated.

She sat up a little and cupped his face.

"I don't regret that night. I'm just as much responsible. All I care about is that we were in love, and we made something wonderful. And besides, I would do it all over again if I could."

She emphasized her last point by kissing him passionately.

"But even still...", Pio muttered, as they pulled apart. "What about now? How could I act so careless when you're in a vulnerable state?"

"Because we missed each other?", Mio answered cheekily. "Did it feel good at least?"

Well...Yeah!", Pio answered. Mia giggled as he turned red. "But I'm just afraid of making a mistake...What if I hurt you, or the babies?"

"Have you been talking to the guys at work again?", Mia asked, already expecting the answer.

"Well..."

"I'm not vulnerable. If the doctor said it was safe, then it's alright. Although, we'll likely not be able to do this later when I'm much bigger."

"That doesn't matter", Pio said. He gently caressed her bump. "I just want to do all I can for you and the babies. I want to make sure you're happy."

"I am happy", Mia replied warmly.

Pio then pulled her close, and his wife giggled again when he nuzzled her nose and kissed all over her face with ravish affection.

But just before anything else could go further, they heard a noise beyond the door.

"Oi, Pio, you in there bro?", came Arthur's voice.

"Oh no!", Pio groaned as he tried to burrow under the covers, as if hoping that would make him less conspicuous.

"Best go and pacify them", Mia chortled as she petted his hair.

With another groan, Pio peeled himself from the bed and, after getting himself decently dressed, pulled open the door and then closed it behind him before his brothers could look in.

"Would you two not make so much noise?", he huffed. "Mia is resting."

"Well", Tony chuckled. His eyes passed over his brother's dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks. "Judging by your state of appearance I would say she definitely needs a well earned sleep."

Pio went even redder as his younger brother hollered with laughter.

"Hey bro leave it", said Arthur, nudging Tony in the ribs. "They're adults after all."

"Yeah but...when she's pregnant?"

"Ain't nothing wrong with a man showing his partner some love. No matter when."

"Just because Marie keeps talking about having a kid with you, doesn't mean you need to share all the details with me!"

Now Arthur was the one to go red this time, and shoved his brother with such force he nearly toppled him over.

"Anyway", Tony managed to wheeze through his laughter. "I'm honestly really happy for you both. But just try to keep your pastimes to a relaxed degree. We don't want a dozen bambino around the house!"

Pio groaned and leaned his head against the wall exasperatedly, as he listened to Arthur chastising Tony down the hallway, and Mia giggling from the bed.

AUTHORS NOTES

Finally done! Not gonna lie, this one was challenging to do. I wanted to make sure I stuck true to realism, but I also had to stick to the characterisation of Pio and Mia, and their relationship. The challenge was, that I didn't want either of them to say or do anything that was immoral, or could be taken as problematic. That may just be my anxiety and just having to leave this for so long and do bits in between. I feel like that may have impacted the writing a bit compared to my previous works.

Please don't misinterpret Pio's words in this. He cares very deeply for his wife and doesn't want to make mistakes or somehow step out of line. He wants to make sure she is safe and happy. Any actions from his own desires and emotions, I feel like he would feel guilty about, like he needs to be a firm wall that doesn't give in. He wants to put his wife before anything, and though he trusts her, he has to be reminded that they are a united couple and they are human with emotions and desires.

I really enjoy writing these romantic fics with these two, and I am more than open to constructive criticism. This is all really practise for myself and I really want to get better at it!

#that's all for now! #pio and mia are romantic and deeply in love #arthur and tony are disaster bros #super mario #the super mario bros movie #super mario movie #mario movie #pio mario #papa mario #mia mario #mama mario #mario movie 2023 #arthur mario #tony mario #mario fanfic #mario fanfiction #super mario fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #multicolour ink writes #i'm sure there's a tone of mistakes I have missed #romance #romantic couple

[thisdoesntfeelfunny]

everything could stay the same or we could change it all

(Carlos Sainz Jr./Max Verstappen, 2.1k, rated T, 1/1)

(Tooth-Rotting Fluff, the fluffiest of all the fluffy things that have ever entered my brain, Morning Cuddles, rated T because swearing just happens to me I don't control it)

Summary:

The best mornings are slow. Even when they probably shouldn't be.

Read it on Ao3 or below. :))

(made possible by the loveliest of beta readers @leversainz)

(I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts! :3)

------------------

Max comes to slowly at first.

His mind takes its due time to tether back to reality and enter a state that can be considered awake – making several detours through barely-there thoughts and dream-like visions.

There is sunshine falling on his face, warm and welcoming. Max is not yet conscious enough for the rays to register as bright, so he relishes in the warmth until the comfortable blank of his vision becomes more and more orange, threatening to tip him too far into wakefulness.

Languidly stretching, he turns around and away from the light, not tuning into the waking world enough to open his eyes. Crisis averted.

The other side registers as less bright, but not lacking any of the warmth previously supplied by the morning sun. Max smiles at this almost-thought, as he burrows his head into the chest of his own personal burning star. Intending to bask in the provided body heat for at least another hour, he wraps himself around his human ray of sunshine, feeling arms envelope him in turn and almost slips back into full unconsciousness.

However all the movement and bursts of nearly-thinking have seemingly set something in motion within Max’s brain, as he realises two things in quick succession.

One, he should be alone. There should not be another person here. Least of all the one that he is currently wrapped around. And two, all windows in his room are facing west.

Max comes to with a start then.

Memories of the night before flood his mind - sitting in his room, texting Carlos, complaining about being alone (Carlos), tempting (also Carlos), throwing all caution to the wind and sneaking out in the middle of the night (Max), yada yada yada (both of them).

Max should not be here. He is not where he is supposed to be. He needs to get back to his room now or Victoria is going to have him hung, drawn and quartered by noon. Shit.

He must look wild, eyes thrown wide open and darting across the room, quickly scanning his surroundings for any indication of the time. Carlos’ chest, that Max is still very much pressed against, rumbles with barely contained laughter. “Relax cariño, it is still early.”

Not even slightly soothed by that, Max tries to disentangle himself from the embrace, to catch a glimpse at the alarm clock on the nightstand. But the more he struggles, the tighter the hold on him becomes. Still not quite awake enough for words, Max lets out a protesting whine. Carlos only chuckles. Asshole.

“Calm down, mi vida. No one is even up yet.”, Carlos tries again. This time the reassurance is paired with feather-light kisses to the top of Max’s head and all over his face. “And besides, I would’ve woken you on time. Can’t have you start such an important day by panicking, no?” He places one last kiss to Max’s brow, giving him a look that makes any objection pointless. So Max sighs and lets himself sink back fully into the strong arms wrapped around him.

Closing his eyes and focusing on Carlos’ hands running up and down his back, he tries to channel the serenity that had enveloped him just a few minutes ago. Carlos says they have time, so he is going to use it.

But, turns out, being shocked awake kind of prevents one from fully relaxing back into blissful unawareness so soon. Like someone flipped a switch, Max’s mind is suddenly full of thoughts. Less severe realisations bouncing around freely, keeping him awake and stacking up nervous energy. After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying not to think about the day ahead, he caves and takes a deep breath – preparing himself for the real world, plans and responsibilities. Okay, next try.

He squints up at Carlos, knowing it makes him look slightly sleep-addled and cute (not Max’s words). “Would you at least tell me what time it actually is?”, Max pleads, “Are you sure no one is awake and scheming our murder right now?” He adds a pained yet sweet smile (he hopes) to complete the package, but only gets an amused look and a raised eyebrow in return. So time for the big guns.

Max stretches to look directly into warm, chocolate brown eyes, blinking slowly. “Schatje”, he almost-whispers, “you know I trust your judgement on the schedule.” Another blink. “And if it was up to me I’d say screw everything and stay in bed with you until the actual ceremony.” Leaning closer, Max presses a barely-there kiss to Carlos’ lips, savouring the way they’re chasing after him when he pulls away slowly. He sighs. “But I also don’t want to give Vicky any tangible excuse to kill me on my wedding day. And being caught in your hotel room on said wedding day, when we were explicitly asked to stay apart, does place very high on the list of things she considers such reasons.”

Max can anticipate the protest from the way Carlos’ arms tighten around him once more and the groan he feels more than hears.

“But all of this is such outdated superstition!” Here it comes.

Carlos is, by all means, not someone who whines. He really isn’t. This is a close call though. If he wasn’t holding Max so tightly, the Dutchman is sure, he would even throw his hands up for emphasis.They’ve been through this before.

“No one except your sister actually believes in it. I certainly don’t and you don’t either.” Carlos rolls onto his back, letting his head fall onto the pillow with a thump. Max follows the movement and settles with his arms crossed on Carlos’ chest, head resting on them. The Spaniard takes a deep breath and meets Max’s eyes. His gaze looks slightly desperate. Huh, this is new.

“I thought I could do this. For you. Because I love you and I know how important your sister is to you. But it is different now that the day is actually here.” Carlos takes another breath, like he is steeling himself for something. “We already have to sneak around all the time, so I refuse to be pressured into doing so, on the one day that we shouldn’t need to. We are getting married for fucks sake. That should mean something. That is supposed to stop all the hiding, all the secrecy.” Carlos now sounds as desperate as he looks and Max is getting slightly worried. Neither of them had been thrilled when Victoria had proposed (read: demanded) they stick to the ‘tradition’ of not seeing each other the night before the wedding, agreeing only to appease her. However, this is an entirely different tone. This is a big deal.

Why has this not come up sooner? They’ve been together for so many years, but with both of them still active in F1 and the sport being what it is, actually coming out has so far been shelved for after they retire. All the people that really matter know anyway. And even though they both regularly voice their frustrations over certain details, they know the only real solution remains one neither of them wants to consider yet. Or is Carlos considering it? Is that what this is about? Does he want to retire? Max tenses. Carlos continues.

“We shouldn’t have to worry about being seen coming out of each other’s hotel room today. We already have that enough during the season. I hate it then and I hate it now. We shouldn’t have to worry about not being seen in the hallway of a hotel, that is entirely booked with guests for our wedding. Why do we even have two rooms? That is such a waste of money and space for such a bullshit superstition.” Carlos huffs, slightly out of breath and Max uses the opportunity to pull him into a deeper kiss. Both to placate Carlos and to calm himself down. He knows they need to have a proper conversation about this. But for what it’s worth, Max thinks that can wait until after they are properly married. It’s only the beginning of summer break. If they choose to, they’ve got enough time to make a real plan for going public or find a way to make the situation more bearable in the future. Today is not about that though. Today is about them and their love, no matter who knows about it. And Max is going to make sure that all the work they put in, to make this whole thing as private and relaxing as possible, is not going to waste. Let’s fix this.

“You’re right.”, he says firmly, when they break apart for long enough to get a word in, “We are getting married and that means something. It means that for once, we call all the shots. No more hiding. No more sneaking.” He smiles brightly at Carlos, who seems to relax more with every word and starts to smile back. Good.

Max sighs again. “I know my sister can be overbearing, but she means well. It’s just that she’s not big on taking risks when it comes to relationships and apparently that includes superstition.” He shrugs. “Anyway, I am very glad I let you tempt me into not spending the night apart.” Max leans in, locking their gazes and whispers: “Because we are getting married today and I could not imagine a better start to married life than waking up next to you, Liefje.” He means to emphasize his point with a small peck, barely long enough to register, but Carlos catches him and they get lost in each other for a while.

“I love you.”, Max breathes against Carlos’ lips when they pull apart. The smile he gets back is almost blinding. “I love you too, mi vida. And today I am going to make sure everyone we meet knows it.” For a moment Max lets himself bask in that and the vision of it maybe becoming the norm someday, before he leans closer again and winks at Carlos conspiratorially. “That sounds lovely. Let’s do that. Of course, I am also going to need you as my personal security against Vicky.”, he says. Carlos rolls his eyes, but Max continues undeterred. “Though I am not going to sneak around, I am also not strong enough to face her wrath. She is my little sister, sure, and this is technically our wedding, but you know as well as I do, that flew out of her head, the moment I made her my maid of honour.” His weak attempt at a joke draws a small chuckle from Carlos.“I would never let anything happen to you, mi amor. You are safe with me, do not worry.”, Carlos grins at Max, who mimics swooning into his arms, “My knight in shining armour.” They both giggle. Better.

There’s little conversation after that, the two of them just lying together, basking in the morning sunlight and the comfortable silence that envelopes the room.

This is probably going to be the last real silence of the day, Max realises. Contentment and excitement are mixing in his gut, forming a cocktail that makes his head spin a little. He doesn’t want this to end. Ever. Never wants to leave this room, this little cocoon of happiness, that they always seem to be able to build. No matter where they are.

But at the same time he can’t wait to get married. Can’t wait to walk down the aisle with his soulmate. Can’t wait to make everything official. Not that 8 years of a dedicated relationship and shared real estate are not official, but there is a small possessive side of him, that puts some more weight into getting to call his boyfriend of 8 years his husband. Husband. Yeah that sounds about right.

Another realisation makes Max perk up. “About the rooms. You know we are paying for the whole hotel, even though not all the rooms are booked. So technically, we are just properly using the otherwise wasted space. This is actively making us waste less money, you see.”, he says. With the words out of his mouth, he’s briefly afraid it’s going to ruin the mood again. But Carlos doesn’t seem to think so, as he just starts laughing loudly. And Max is a weak, weak man when it comes to that laugh, so although he doesn’t really see the joke, he has no choice but to join in.

They have just come down a bit, when Carlos clears his throat. “So, seeing as we don’t like wasting money, maybe we should use up some of the other empty rooms tonight?”, he proposes, scratching his chin like he is trying to solve a very difficult problem. Max emphatically nods. “To keep the wasted money to a minimum of course.”, he agrees.

They burst out laughing again. The best.

#versainz #versainz fanfic #versainz fanfiction #versainz fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 rpf fic #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #carlos sainz fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #mia screams into the void but in a different direction #mia throws writing into the void