#wish i could tell you where this thought came from but oh i am none the wiser.

[slxthserenade]

Fire Emblem themed wedding. The romantic Fates soundtrack is playing. Your rings are modeled like Byleth’s. You both have excessive amounts of makeup blush to mimic the blushing portraits. The priest reluctantly asks “… do you accept to uh (checks notes) S-Support ?? your partner, forevermore, and to never- hey are we really sure this is right- oh uh- to never, ever .. duplicate the game file to S-Support another … ? Do you promise to take care of them, whether in (grumbles) phoenix or in classic, even if life’s difficulty suddenly becomes infernal, till permadeath do you part ?”. You both say yes.

#shitpost #fire emblem #i don’t fucking know #wish i could tell you where this thought came from but oh i am none the wiser. #the machinations of my brain are foreign to me.

[sanguineterrain]

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing. 

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard. 

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say. 

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted. 

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it. 

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?" 

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again. 

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks. 

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face. 

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly. 

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone. 

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you. 

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you. 

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.” 

You nod and lay back on the floaty. 

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks. 

“Just us?” 

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you. 

Whoops. Right. You're still at work. 

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing. 

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink. 

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it? 

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar. 

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?” 

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort. 

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you. 

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.” 

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add. 

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently. 

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway. 

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight. 

“You’re awesome, Y/N!" 

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?” 

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot. 

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again." 

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young. 

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town. 

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered." 

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family. 

"Who do I ask for?" 

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck. 

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says. 

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?" 

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler. 

She nods in realization. 

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince. 

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit. 

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say. 

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree. 

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand. 

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod. 

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest. 

"How come?" she asks. 

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically. 

"They're jerks," she says. 

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore. 

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans. 

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from. 

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass. 

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on. 

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures. 

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter. 

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font. 

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles. 

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye. 

"No," you manage. 

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?" 

He doesn't remember you. 

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve. 

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say. 

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin. 

Her brows rise. 

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away. 

Only there do you stop to catch your breath. 

And then you cry. 

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?" 

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table. 

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah." 

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it. 

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute." 

"I guess so," you say. 

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase. 

"Shit, here. Take mine." 

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it. 

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?" 

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before. 

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now. 

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates. 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple. 

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?" 

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention. 

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched. 

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words." 

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack. 

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says. 

You nearly swallow your tongue. 

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do. 

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair. 

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back. 

"Just us?" you check. 

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together. 

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?" 

You check your watch and close your book. 

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later." 

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.) 

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends. 

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?" 

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs. 

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though. 

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses. 

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look. 

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile. 

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation. 

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile. 

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always. 

You lean your elbows on the countertop. 

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes. 

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument. 

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that. 

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking. 

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say. 

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?" 

Lucas nods. 

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey. 

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you. 

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains. 

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone. 

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie. 

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort. 

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared. 

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector." 

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly. 

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that. 

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?" 

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change. 

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty. 

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business." 

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional. 

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew. 

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool. 

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy. 

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy. 

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,” you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason. 

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little. 

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck. 

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.” 

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area. 

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share. 

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!” 

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm. 

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying. 

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded. 

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror. 

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket. 

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you. 

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it. 

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again. 

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting. 

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth. 

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese. 

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?" 

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too. 

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava. 

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none. 

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head. 

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile. 

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble. 

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met." 

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot. 

"This town is so shit," you say. 

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?" 

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle. 

You look at the tape in your hand. 

"Does Steve like John Hughes?" 

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved. 

"I did want to watch this one," you say. 

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises. 

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on. 

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap. 

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't. 

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself. 

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been. 

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie. 

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not. 

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy. 

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life. 

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault. 

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him. 

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital. 

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it. 

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you. 

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck. 

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships. 

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that. 

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it. 

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Lo

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand. 

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open. 

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine. 

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you. 

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask. 

“Always.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers

[dxstopiaa]

Vocal Veneration

Synopsis: Lately, the Traveller can’t help but notice a alteration in someone’s behaviour. Seems like an interrogation is due.

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao, Childe, Ayato, Al Haitham and Diluc x Fem! Reader.

Warnings: None, the tiniest bit suggestive.. [I thought i’d try this cute idea out! <3 but i’ve been so tired and demotivated with school and family issues sigh, my eyes (ᗒᗣᗕ)]

Zhongli

About You: Impressions

Hm [Name]? Ah, a truly polite and welcoming young woman. She often accompanies me with affairs regarding Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, insisting on lessening my workload. I consider her a suitable role model for the children of Liyue. Excuse me? Are you insinuating that there’s something i’m not informing you of? Ahem, that is information i shan’t tell you just yet.

About You: Godhood

I had intended to keep my identity as Morax a secret, yet some citizens are more observant than i thought. She was the first to recognise such as she was a devoted follower of Rex Lapis, i find myself flattered. What? No, [Name] did not worship me after she knew i could hear her every request. She apologised profusely afterwards, and was quite embarrassed. Adorable.

About You: Betrothal

Ah, Traveller. Here, this is my engagement invite, i’d appreciate your appearance at the function. Oh, you saw this coming? Hah…I suppose it can’t be helped, perhaps love is inevitable as they say, i shall not make the same mistake, not again. Why, you ask? No matter, let’s not spoil the mood with a lengthy monologue, Farewell till then, my friend.

Xiao

About You: Impressions

[Name]? The individual who often pays her respects at the adepti shrine? I watch her from afar, sometimes she notices— but she doesn’t say much apart from a simple greeting. It’s refreshing to see a young mortal appreciating us nowadays where our job becomes less prominent. What do you mean my voice is quieter? It’s not.

About You: Karma

Whenever i’m with [Name], my karmic debt seems to take less of a toll on me. That burning sensation encasing my heart dissipates. She makes it bearable enough to manage. On some nights, she brings me gifts and food to take my mind from the terrors. Huh? I’m in love? Hmph. Foolish mortal emotions don’t interest me.

About You: Acceptance

So be it, as you predicted, me and her have grown rather close. No— this does not give you the opportunity to tease me for it. Adepti should value the short lifespans of humans, via protection but also expression, i was told. This doesn’t sound like me, you say? Hm, i fail to understand what you mean.

Childe

About You: Impressions

Ah! The illustrious traveller also knows of my co-worker! [Name] is quite unique, no? At first, she came off as a little apprehensive but she no longer hesitates to spend time with me exclusively. What was that? Professionalism and relationships should remain separate? Nonsense. This isn’t a romantic amour!

About You: Combat

I feel a sense of pride knowing that i have managed to teach someone how to master the rules of combat! It was only necessary, i couldn’t bear to witness my dearest injured. Wait! In the name of the Tsarista, promise not to tell [Name] i called her so, will you? Comrade, It was a minor meaningless slip up!

About You: Family

Ah, how i wish to return to the confines of Snezhnaya. I’m certain that Teucer and Tonia will adore [Name] too! She’s so sweet behind that closed-off persona, perhaps i can declare my love for her in person prior…Oh, you’re volunteering to help me? I’d adore some aid here, confessing isn’t exactly easy, you know.

Ayato

About You: Impressions

Do i know [Name]? Certainly, she is my wife after all. Hm, you were unaware? Is it really that shocking? Ah, it is not at all rare to see a commissioner with someone of a higher or alike status. It’s not that, you say? So you’re suggesting something about my personality. I see… I’d estimated you’d react this way nonetheless.

About You: Workload

As the Yashiro Commissioner, I am not exempt from towers of overflowing paperwork and contracts. My role, keeping peace between the Tri-Commission, can be quite taxing from time to time. Luckily enough, my beloved never fails to provide me with her delicious cooking and endearing words. [Name] brews the best milk tea for me, care to try some? I have a fresh batch ready.

About You: Heir

Oh my— why do you ask of such a thing? Surely this is too soon to be conversing about children, no? While we do intend to, ahem, expand the Kamisato bloodline, i fear of my duties interfering with my role as an attentive father for my child. Of course, the welfare of my dearest wife comes first. Hm, my face is flushed pink? False.

Al Haitham

About You: Impressions

[Name] is notably the only person i get along with, as she understands the definition of ‘boundary’. Not entirely ignorant but not annoyingly persistent either. I quite often find the saying that opposites attract to be outdated. Like-minded people are worth spending time with. Hmph, you know i did not mean it in that way.

About You: Akademiya

Why do you ask? I surmise it wouldn’t be too taxing to let you know. We were classmates within the Haravatat Darshan. She’d buy me food and drinks in return for working on projects together as she insisted. I accepted the offer, certainly better than joining the other entitled scholars. We must of been close? Huh, we still are. What’s so shocking? I’m not that arrogant.

About You: Emotions

I am least fond of expressing my feelings, i thought it was pointless and a partial waste of my energy when i can resolve such issues with my own logic. Admittedly, i was incorrect. [Name] always offered her time to listen to my very few words and i’d listen to hers. Fair exchange, i called it then. It wasn’t until an argument broke out that i learned not all experience comes from books, sometimes from people. Those words of hers became a principle to me.

Diluc

About You: Impressions

My spouse, [Name]? I don’t think i would know where to begin in terms of describing what i think of her. Loving, caring, humorous, gorgeous—need i continue? You’ve never met her formally…why don’t i invite you personally to Dawn Winery for an evening meal. She’d love to get to know you. Good, it’s settled then.

About You: Winery

After being left with the responsibility of the business at eighteen, i’ve developed a routine which i’ve mostly stayed consistent with. Having a family of my own now, there’s no doubt it is much different. Hm? My winery is big enough to accommodate them? Haha, they surely liven it up, keeping my wife and i busy as of late. Don’t worry, i treat her to all she likes afterwards with my income, wine and luxuries.

About You: Children

What—? No, i am contented with my two children. Hah, any more and i believe i wouldn’t be able to multitask between my profession and duties. Though i do quite like the idea of staying home on paternity leave with my beloved [Name]. Again, please, i request you not to suggest such…topics, my wife is already teasing me, not you too.

#we’re zhongli and xiao lovers here #genshin impact #genshin #xiao #zhongli #ayato #alhaitham #diluc #genshin impact xiao #genshin zhongli #genshin ayato #genshin alhaitham #genshin diluc #genshin x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #ayato x reader #childe #childe x reader #genshin childe #al haitham x reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact zhongli #genshin fluff #genshin al haitham #al haitham #genshin impact childe #diluc ragnvindr #pls pls pls

[marymary-diva17]

The truth

tonowari x reader x ronal

It had been sometime since the sully family and their clan, had come seeking help from the reef navi clans. The forest navi seem to be learning well and adapting to their new home and the new way of life. There were some customs that they were able to learn and there were some they had yet to learn as well. There were also friendships blossoming between the two clans and many families as well. As time went on for the omatacayia many of them had become admirers or you, even the sully family as they were amazed by you.

Tsireya " mama the sully children have been learning well we think I no time they will learn our ways"

y/n " that good you children have been doing a wonderful job"

aonung " yes they are getting the hang of it and they are very fun to be around as well, they have been helping us learn some of the sky people words"

y/n " oh have they"

aonung " yes it that okay with you mama"

y/n " it fine with me my son but you might not wish to have your mom caught you talking like them, as you know her so well"

aonung " yes mama"

rotxo " we have seen some of toruk makto human stuff it was weird at the start but soon become, good in the end but still weird" you laugh at your sons words as all your children were explain the stuff they, were teaching the sully family and learning from them as well.

tsireya " we have to get going to promsie to meet up with the sully kids today"

y/n " well run along not let me make you late we can talk later" the children soon nodded their heads as they all left the home after, helping you clean up and took off with their new friends. you soon laugh as the kids had taken off to who know where.

y/n " ......." you soon laugh and shake your head as your soon went on with the rest of your day, soon going on your task for the day and giving help to anyone who need it at the moment.

Later on that day

tsireya " you are doing well" the children had soon resurface after swimming under water on their IIu.

lo'ak " thank you"

aonung " maybe we should see what trick you all can do on the IIu"

lo'ak " you are one dude"

kiri " wait do you all hear that" the children had gotten every silent when they head a angelic voice singing a song, this song had gotten everyone attention as they were listening to the melody.

tuk " that beautiful a song I remind me of mom lullaby"

kiri " let go see who singing that song"

rotxo " we know who singing the song come with us and we will show you" The sully kids followed the three metkayaian teens as they lead them towards the beautiful song, and it got wonderful and mighty as they got closer.

neteyam " wait that y/n the women who help conceive tonowari and ronal on allowing us to stay"

lo'ak " wow I didn't know she could sing her songs could beat out singers" the teens were watch as you were signing a song that seem to be something import as the water below you starts glowing, none of them seem to notice the tuk was making her way towards you.

y/n " ma eywa am eywa"

???? " hello" you had gotten caught off guard when you heard someone say hello, you soon looked down to see a young girl looking at you.

y/n " hello little one you are tuk right the youngest child of Jake and neytiri"

tuk " yes that my name you remember my name"

y/n " yes I do"

y/n " are you out here alone ...."

???? " sorry she with us" you soon looked an saw the teens walking onto the shore, they were looking ay you hoping they were not in trouble for their actions.

y/n " hello everyone may I ask why you are out here so far from, the village and the territory"

aonung " well we came out swimming with the sully family"

y/n " I can see that"

rotxo " we are sorry for not telling you mama"

sully kids " mama"

lo'ak " wait dude did you just call her mama"

aonung " yes rotxo called her mama"

neteyam " well we thought ronal and tonowari are you parents, we didn't know that y/n was your mom"

tsireya " well yes ronal and tonowari are our parents but y/n is our mama as well they are all three mated together"

sully kids " oh"

kiri " I have never heard about three navi being mated together"

y/n " well it ever rare in the forest but many other clan outside the forest sometime have this life style"

tuk " you have a beautiful voice y/n"

y/n " thank you"

neteyam " so that explains why you were able to speak to ronal and tonowari like that"

aonung " yes that our mama she able to get them to think about a decision, and agree with her"

kiri " wow you have an wonderful gift"

y/n " that you so much but all of your kids have wonderful gifts, but have yet to discover them yet"

aonung " really mama"

y/n " yes but in time they will come you just need to find it out on your own"

neteyam " how can you tell"

rotxo " it because mama has this special talent like our mom she can communicate with eywa but in different way, and she always slowing problems within the clan and other village ...mama has a talent of always listening to other problems and leading to some type of peace"

kiri " that why your song chord is so beautiful and why our grandmother holds high respect for you"

y/n " yes over the years of growing up I had to find my place in our world and the future that the great mother, had planned for me and I did but it seems like I have more to find out"

tuk " i hope one day to have a cool gift as well"

y/n " your gift will come in time tuk you just need to wait and see"

tuk " yes ma'am"

y/n " now come on lets get you all home as the sun is setting and I don't, think any of your mother will love that idea of you being out here on the water" the children soon nodded their heads and soon head back home with you, once you reached the village you could se your mates along with Jake and neytiri waiting.

tuk " hey mama and daddy"

neytiri " hey sweetie we were wondering where you kid had gotten off to"

tuk " we went out with aonung, rotxo, and tsireya today we had a good time and we even found out y/n is their mama"

Jake " what"

tuk " she there mama she with tonowari and ronal"

neytiri " I have never heard about this type of relationship"

ronal " yes y/n is our mate she been out mate for sixteen years now or maybe even longer"

neytiri " mother"

mo'at " yes I have learn about other clan have different type so mate relationship, then the forest clans"

Jake " wow looks like we learn something new today"

tonowari " yes y/n is our mate and the second mother to our children"

neteyam " y/n is ever nice mom and she made sure we got home on time"

y/n " yes it not safe for children to be out on the water alone"

neytiri " thank you for making sure my children got home safely"

y/n " you are welcome"

Jake " well I hope we can get to know you better y/n after see how. much I children like you"

y/n " yes I will love to get to know your family better and clan as well" well now that the truth was out everyone seemed to be happy about, everything that was going on soon the truth was share with everyone else. It was good that the truth was out so they can be better bonds form between both, of the clans if they are going to be living near each other for a long time.

#avatar 2 #atwow #avatar #avatar x reader #avatar x y/n #sully family x reader #avatar the way of water #loak x tsireya #tonowari x ronal #tonowari x y/n #tonowari x you #tonowari x reader #tonowari x reader x ronal #ronal x you #ronal x reader #ronal x tonowari #ronal x y/n

[myjisung]

kisses with bang chan !

content. stray kids bang chan, headcanons, gn!reader — fluff.

warning. none

a/n. as requested numerous times, chan! might've gotten a little carried away with this one... what can i say, i am a bangchan lover at heart afterall. feel free to request who i should write for next!

YOUR FIRST KISS

it was in his studio. chan had not planned for it to happen that day, he was not one to plan such things out anyway. all that mattered to him at that point was that he liked you a lot, much more than he thought he would. eventhough chan wanted to put his work and career before anything else, he could not help but be constantly distracted by your presence; so much so that he was starting to consider getting into a relationship.

he could not tell whether you liked him or not. his lack of confidence blurred his vision and made him spiral into believing that someone like you would never settle for someone like him: some guy who liked music so much that he sacrificed almost everything to get his tracks where he wanted them to be.

yet, that night, he stopped thinking. if you asked him where that confidence of his came, he would shrug and laugh a little because, really, chan had no idea. one moment he was showing you this new song he had been working on and reading out the lyrics he and jisung had written as you looked at the mixing software on his computer. the next, you were smiling softly as you talked and talked about how the song was much better than the last time you listened to it.

maybe it was the words you chose to say or the way your eyes twinkled as you complimented his improvement, but chan could not help but cut you off to randomly utter "can i kiss you?". taken aback, you stared at him as red crept up your face. chan mirrored your expression, growing nervous and got ready to backtrack that last statement of his before it got weird. fortunately however, you ended up nodding, as if you had been waiting for him to ask. he did not need anything more, chan immediately leaned in after gently cupping your face.

the kiss he gave you that evening was one you would always remember. probably because he could not help but giggle constantly once it dawned on him that he actually managed to kiss you.

HOW OFTEN HE WOULD KISS YOU

as often as he can actually. as soon as there is an opening you can bet he will dive in. he is far from stingey when it comes to kisses. if you ask for one, chan will give you one. if he feels like kissing you, he will kiss you. it is as simple as that. he does not overthink it, chan simply likes to give.

if you wanted an actual estimate, thousands of times a day would be the closest i could get to guessing it right. he loves to say he likes kisses a normal amount but we all know that is far from being the case; no one likes kisses as much as he does. he just wants to kiss and be kissed every single minute of every single day. so, if he can make it happen, he will.

WHAT HIS KISSES ARE LIKE

oh, so lovely. they are the absolute best. they are a mix of everything at the same time. chan gives loving kisses in the morning. he pecks your shoulder when waking up next to you and then kisses your lips sweetly when he meets up with you in the kitchen after his shower. before leaving for work, he would gently tuck stray hairs behind your ear before kissing your cheek and wishing you a great day. when he comes back and is in a good mood, he would get so playful; peppering your face with kisses and planting his mouth right on top of yours at random times just to get a few giggles out of you.

it is impossible to put him in any category. chan's kisses come in all shapes and forms possible; and each and every single one of them is perfect in its own way. he knows what he is doing and you can tell. overall an amazing kisser to be honest.

HIS FAVORITE KISSES ( GIVING )

ONE. head kisses : when he feels protective

TWO. hand kisses : when he's distracted and working

THREE. temple kisses : when he feels extremely soft

HIS FAVORITE KISSES ( RECEIVING )

ONE. forehead kisses : make him feel safe

TWO. cheek kisses : get him all giggly

THREE. lips kisses : he just likes to be kissed tbh

#🐈‍⬛ sol writes #stray kids #stray kids bang chan #ficscafe #straykidsland #bang chan x reader #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids headcanons #skz #skz drabbles #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fluff #skz headcanons #skz bang chan #bang chan #chan #bang chan drabbles #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fluff #bang chan headcanons

[importantchaosgiver]

The Griffin And The Dragon:

For Now, Goodbye

Summary: (Y/N) knows it's time to go home. But what she didn't expect was a goodbye from an unlikely person...

Warnings: None

******

No One's POV

The sun hadn't began peeking over the horizon when (Y/N) was nudged awake by Alcatrax. She let out a groggy groan as she felt the hard beak nudging her hand before his tail whacked her in the face making her sit up with a start. Alcatrax's piercing yellow eyes glittered with amusement at his rider's unimpressed look. "Very mature. I am awake now," she huffed underneath her breath, pulling the covers off and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold stone floor, making her flinch a little before standing up entirely. Her arms stretched above her head as she yawned. Time to get ready to head home.

(Y/N) brushed through her unruly hair (which was almost always frizzy whenever she woke up) before getting changed into a new dress and breeches since she would be on Alcatrax for the better half of five to seven hours on the long flight. Once she was deemed presentable, her and Alcatrax headed outside. Where no one else was. Her parents were most likely still asleep of getting ready. (Y/N) stifled a yawn behind her hand as Alcatrax went to go drink from the fountain. Then... "You are up considerably early, my lady,". (Y/N) jumped, quickly turning around to see...

"Your grace? You... uh, yes. It takes a while to get to and from Concordia," she said, regaining her composure from the sudden fright. Viserys stood there with a soft look, wearing a white shirt, black breeches and boots, having just came from his bed chambers. Most likely at least. "I see," he said. It was rather quiet between them for a moment. "I... wanted to thank you for coming to the funeral. Aemma would have been happy," Viserys said softly. (Y/N) nodded gently. "She was a good friend and woman. I wish there was more I could do and say. But, she was truly a rare soul," she said with a kind smile. Viserys nodded in agreement. That she was. "Tell me, my lady. How come you can ride such a magnificent beast?" he asked, glancing at Alcatrax who was cleaning his feathers, his lion like tail swishing from side to side. "Some believed we have ancient magic to communicate with creatures. From the mightiest beasts to the tiniest mouse. Our history is as much as a mystery to anyone," she said with a light chuckle. "I see. And... was Daemon interested in your history? I saw you talking to him," Viserys explained.

Oh, that. (Y/N) let out a small and nervous chuckle. "No, he was telling me how much I intrigued him. Considering how far I came with my parents to pay our respects," she explained nervously, putting her gloves on. The king nodded in understanding. Although, he took felt uneasy. Daemon was never one to be spontaneous. He had a reason for everything. Especially if it included a foreign princess. And, if Viserys was honest, he almost didn't blame Daemon. The princess was rather beautiful. But, he didn't dwell on that fact too much.

"Well, I wish you safe travels, my lady. And you are always welcome here should you desire to come and visit," he said with a smile. "Thank you, your grace," (Y/N) said and returned his smile with a curtsy. He headed back inside as Maximus and Galene came out with their griffins. "What was the king discussing with you?" Galene asked her daughter with a curious expression. "Nothing much, mother. He just expressed how glad he was we came," she explained, mounting Alcatrax. She didn't mention when Viserys said she was welcome any time. She didn't believe it was a big deal.

But it was. As the three griffins set off, more than one pair of eyes watched. Daemon watched from the streets. He thought of Princess (Y/N). How she was perfect in every way. Her features, her posture and poise. Not to forget that level of sass she gave him. Oh, he was going to have fun with this one. Another set of eyes belonged to Otto Hightower who had been observing the foreign royalty ever since their arrival. He didn't like how mystical and magical Concordia was and its inhabitants were just as bad in his options. In addition, (Y/N) seemed like a threat to his plans. She was kind, too kind. She was pretty, young and smart with wit to match and wisdom. She had the capacity for being the perfect suitor. He had to play his cards right. The last pair of eyes was Viserys himself. He watched the griffins soar through the dark blue sky as the morning began, yet no sunlight was visible yet. To meet these royals was like a breath of fresh air. No ambition, no pressure. They were there out of the kindness of their hearts no matter how many viewed that as a weakness. No, kindness wasn't a weakness in their culture. It was a strength.

Could something flourish from here? Or would the outcome be as clouded as ever? Only time can tell...

******

Part 3! Well, technically chapter 2. But, whatever. Now, real question: Which one do you think will win? Daemon or Viserys? I know it may stray from the original plot, but I'm going to try and make it relate to it or follow some of the original plot. But, tensions are rising...

#house of the dragon #viserys targaryen #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #otto hightower #alicent hightower #viserys x reader #daemon x reader #fantasy

[ideas-scattered-dreams]

/ / Obsession

Fandom: Genshin impact AU: loyal obsessed reader + imposter au + reverse character creator au + yandere creator/character characters: Any

🌙━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━⭐ Devourer: i cannot pick any character, so u can imagine whoever this is.. i am not good in doing headcannons and imagines with each character, but im learning about their personalities and ambitions and i am trying to learn from amazing writers and i hope u all forgive me.

imagine that... You were obsessed with the overseer, you worshipped them more than those archons (if its one of them is the archons then imagine they got replaced), you were the creators first character that came home, as well became the one that the creator mains. Your creator gave u all that one could even hoped for, so how dare u not worship them? and its even better that you were their favorite! Ever since you became self aware about the overseer you were scared at first. what will they do to you? what will they do to the ones you care for you? u were afraid from the hundred of possibilities that this... God can do. but once you were basked in their presence of the overseer you felt.. relieved, so warm and so... dangerous. their presence just wants to make you want them more. make them yours to keep so u can feel this amazing sensation always. you loved it. You had that smirk u always wear whenever u see a character in world quest, side quest and main quest as u were always with aether/lumine whenever they go, you were basically their companion now. and to be always by the creators side is such a bliss... You laughed with the overseer, chatted (ai generated), had fun and many more memories you cherished to the bottom of your heart.. you just cant stop your growing obsession on waiting to always be with them.. its so addicting! so so addicting.. until one day the overseer stopped gifting u with their presence. Did something happen..? that was your first thought when the overseer did not log in at the designated time they always do. they must have something keeping them busy right? they did tell you they were gonna be a bit busy. that must be it... yes. it must be. Until those little times became days and now turned into weeks. you were getting restless. the hunger u crave from them, is beginning to show itself and it is feral for it. where could they possibly be?! have they forgotten about you? have they lost interest in you? no no no, it cant be, it cant! you were having a breakdown from the possibilities that could have happened to them! until u got a hearing on an imposter on the loose. hah? an imposter? how come u just knew about this now. how.. how dare they impersonate the overseer! they must be the reason their grace hasn't been online. and now they take their appearance? preposterous. you took your weapon that the overseer obtained for you and gripped it making it crack.

You grabbed a picture frame of the overseer and caressed it with deep care. "dont worry your grace. i will take this damn imposter and make them bring you back. no matter what." you put the frame down and headed out with deep hatred on this damn 'imposter.'

When u found where the last location of the imposter was last sighted, u went to the area and scouted it. they wouldn't have ran far with an injury on their leg can they? you scouted every grass and air u came across. you were far more keen on the surroundings here in teyvat due to always adventuring with the overseer... oh how u wish it continued like that. but alas an imposter ruined it.

crunch. sway. crunch. sway. snap. crunch. sw-

you turned your directions towards the sound. someone was here. you were sure none of the acolytes would be here and the knights. no sightings of monsters near by aswell. so it must be...

"i know you're there." the person hitched their breath, the imposter was just behind that tree.. just a meter close to you. so so close. "i wonder.. how such a lowly person like you impersonate the overseer."

you began to walk towards the tree. your eyes fixated towards it. weapon clenched and ready if the fly runs. "i mean.. you must be something much extraordinary right?" your vision starts to shine. " pathetic."

when u finally got closer to the tree bark, a sudden wave of a familiar presence ignited something within you. huh? this feeling and wave of pleasure is the same thing u have always been craving from them.. it cant be. can it?!

you looked over the bark and saw the imposter? bleeding gold and littered with healed golden wounds. ah.. you tremble and fell down onto your knees. "your grace..?" they were here, it has to be them! the same feeling u always have with them. it cant be a hox nor lie, especially the golden wounds/blood.

you immediately went into action and start to heal them by using your vision to heal the bleeding wound.. it was gushing out so fast.. it was so... fresh. but u didn't care at all, u loss your questions for now. but now the top priority is their grace.

after getting the wound be sealed and to check the surroundings, u knelt Infront of them, head bowing in respect. "your grace I'm so sorry to be so late in rescuing u! please forgive my insolence!" the overseer looked at your bowed form and grinned widely. but soon turned into a small smile when u lightly lift your head to see their reaction.

(character) hugged u tightly on their chest as u lightly blush and burry inside. is.. this a dream?! their grace.. your light.. they are really real.. you hug them back tightly, afraid to let go even for just a moment. you close your eyes to basked in their presence so close to u.. no more restrictions, no more obstacles.. just.. pure bliss.

you hope this dream wont end.. please.. don't end.

as u silently cuddle and cling to the overseer, they had hearts in their eyes as they grinned. they burry their face on your neck to conceal their blushing and panting self. 'you're here with them! finally finally finally FINALLY'

they waited for this moment to finally be with you. HAH imposter au? fuck that shit, they control teyvat and seized the throne immediately after they arrived, it took so much effort for you to not know about their descend, but of course with little to no manipulation it was easy as when u burry a kids corpse.

you are finally here with them. no one shall take u away, NO ONE. even when u believe that they are in danger, wont u gladly protect them from danger right..? ofc you would, u are their most powerful and loyal acolyte. their most precious treasure..

ah.. such bliss to receive, as long as those no bodies do their job and act like their hunting the 'imposter' then its all good. participating a fun game with your close and favorite person is the best dream u could ever have. good luck. dreamer.

#➥🌙dreamer.ideas #genshin impact #sagau #sagau x male reader #sagau x gn reader #sagau x female reader #sagau x nb reader #genshin #x male reader #x gn reader #x nb reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact x female reader #genshin impact x nb reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x reader #sagau x reader #genshin x female reader #genshin x nb reader #genshinx gn reader

[the-little-moment]

Braided Together

A Collection of Hair Stories with

Senna and the Bad Batch

Words: 1,772

Warnings: None

Just some sweet fluff. There's a separate little story for each character.💕

Hunter

Senna combed her fingers through the sergeant’s black hair, feeling the silk of it. 

“Crosshair used to do this, and Tech helps now, but you know how he is.”

The doctor chuckled. “Oh, I know. I don’t mind at all, dear. I am a little rusty though.”

“At least you’re not gonna lecture me while you do it. It makes me feel like he’s got me right where he wants me,” Hunter admitted, raising two fingers like a pair of scissors, “and he’s pointing a sharp object at my head in case I get any ideas.”

Senna bit her lip in an effort not to laugh at his exasperation. “Hmm, the lecture costs extra.”

Hunter was sitting on the third step of the ship's ramp, Senna perched just above him so she could get a good view of what she was doing. His hair was still damp from his shower and she had spread a towel over his shoulders to catch what she was about to cut. A warm breeze blew through the docking yard as Hunter tilted his face up to the sunshine, trying to ignore the clatter of pit droids arguing nearby.

One would think that all clones would share the same hair, but Senna had seen every variety the Fett genome could produce in her time on Kamino. Shades of blonde, brown, red, and, of course, black. Even silver, like Crosshair’s. Most clones had tight curls, but Hunter’s hair fell in softer waves. It was longer now than he usually kept it, brushing his shoulders. 

“You have such nice hair.”

“Thanks," he murmured, eyes closed. If it was quieter he could see himself falling asleep. "I do absolutely nothing to it.”

“That seems to be the trick, as far as I can tell. We women torture our hair.”

The sergeant chuckled at that. “I condition it with sweat.”

Senna grinned, shaking her head as she lifted the scissors to make the first cut. 

Omega

Omega sighed and leaned forward on her elbows, one finger tracing idle patterns on the console as Senna drew the brush through her short, blonde waves. “I wish I had hair like you, Senna.”

The doctor smiled at her wistful tone. “What, black?”

“Long.” She spread out her arms and sighed again.

“Oh.” Senna chuckled, separating a tangle at the back of the girl's neck. She and Wrecker had played—that is trained, hard today. “Well, you can if you want to, but it’s mostly just a giant pain.”

“But it’s so pretty.” Omega sat thoughtfully for a moment as Senna continued brushing. “Do boys like girls with long hair better?”

Senna thought her brain had short-circuited for a second, arm frozen halfway through a brush stroke. “I—uh,” she offered helpfully. “Um.” Where had this come from? Senna took a deep breath and sent a prayer up to the spirit of her mother, a woman who had somehow raised two thirteen year old girls. 

“Honey,” she resumed her brushing, “there are trillions of boys in the galaxy and they all like different things. What’s more important is what makes you happy. There’s only one you.” 

Tech

“Time for bed, Tech.” Senna came up behind him and knocked on the back of his seat. “Honey?”

“I only require a few more minutes,” the pilot muttered, hunched over the circuit board he was soldering. Senna had grown to fear that soldering iron after she’d followed the smell of smoke one night to find him asleep with it in his hand, slowly burning a hole through the part he was holding. Maker, how had they survived this long? 

“You’ll have plenty more minutes tomorrow.” Nothing made her feel more like her mother than trying to get her family to go to bed. At least Wrecker was a good sleeper, bless him. And Hunter tried.

Tech sighed and switched off the tool as she pulled him gently back in the chair by his shoulders. “Somehow I managed to accomplish more before you joined us.” 

“You’re about to trigger a lecture on the importance of sleep.” Tech groaned as she reached up and ran her fingers through his short hair, scratching his scalp gently. “Goggles.” She tapped the side of a lens and he pulled them off. They spent another minute like that, Senna gently massaging his head, her chin on the back of his seat, concentrating on the dents his goggles left, as he closed his eyes and sighed. “Alright, dear. Time to sleep.” She bent and kissed the top of his head like she had when he was small, smiling as Tech lurched to his feet and headed to his rack. 

“G’night, Senna.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Wrecker

Wrecker had kept his head shaved ever since the accident. That awful day when he and his brothers had been cadets that had taken half of his sight and hearing and left them all terrified of his decommissioning. As a child, he’d had thick curls like any other clone, although a shade or two lighter than the prevalent black. 

Senna had taken the razor from the medic who had been about to shave the burnt remains of the young clone's hair, knowing that, if he was awake, he’d rather her do it. He’d been off-balance for many weeks after his injury and she had continued to shave his head for him whenever the hair started to grow back, taking extra care around the fresh scar that surrounded his ear. They’d grown even closer during that time when his brothers had been forced to continue their training without him. 

“You don’t think…it makes me ugly?”

Wrecker's left eye was still bandaged and Senna’s heart broke when he gazed at her sadly from the hospital bed, as miserable as a kicked akk pup.

“Oh, honey, no." The doctor rolled her stool from the monitor she'd been typing at to take his hand. "There’s no such thing as an ugly clone. The longnecks didn’t know the favor they were doing the galaxy when they made you and your brothers.”

He’d laughed at that, and Senna had leaned over and squeezed him extra tight. Her little Wrecker, now so much taller than she was, but still with the same sweet heart he’d always had.

Senna

“Thank you for letting me do this,” Tech said from his cross-legged position on the floor of the ship, a brush in one hand and the ends of Senna's hair in the other. She was perched, knees drawn up to her chin, on a cargo crate in front of him to keep the heavy waves off the floor. 

“Of course, dear. You’re always welcome. Means I get to rest my arms.” 

The doctor smiled to herself as she thought back to a very strange two days, when a much younger Tech, bored with his lessons, had developed a brief, but passionate fixation on learning to style her hair. His quick mind and nimble fingers had instantly mastered the braided crown she wore every day, insisting that she stay while he practiced increasingly intricate plaits, much to the bewilderment of his brothers. When she’d visited the Batch the next day, he was ready for her, immediately ushering her to sit on his bunk while he took her hair down and explained the traditional Mirialan and Chalactan hairstyles he’d researched the night before, a pile of handmade hair pins at his side. It had all been desperately adorable, and Senna clearly recalled an amused Hunter taking a holo of them at some point. She’d have to try to dig it up. 

Tech slowly worked the brush up the length of her hair, patiently untangling the occasional knot. When he’d reached her shoulders, he unfolded his long legs and stood to finish the top of her head. “That feels nice,” Senna muttered, closing her eyes as the bristles scraped against her scalp and down her neck. 

Tech smiled as he worked carefully around her ears. When all of the tangles were gone, he placed the brush at the crown of her head and dramatically drew it down the entire length in one smooth movement. “That is quite satisfying.”

Crosshair

The little clone glared bitterly down at his boots, as if they were to blame for all his troubles. “It’s just another thing for them to make fun of.” 

Crosshair was sitting next to her on his bunk as Senna rubbed his arm absently. She hated seeing him unhappy. The fresh scar over his right eye only added to his look of misery. 

“Sweetheart, your hair is beautiful. I’ve always thought so.”

“It’s different," he grumbled. "I don’t want to be different.”

“I know. When you get older, you can dye it if you really want to. I hope you don’t though.”

The boy sighed and slumped against her as she brushed her fingers through the soft silveriness of it. “Even you have black hair, Sen.”

She laughed at the grumpy observation. “You know, when I was your age, I wanted to be a redhead.”

Crosshair turned to look at her in confusion. “Why? Your hair’s nice.”

“Because everyone in my family had black hair and I wanted to be different.” The memory was vaguely embarrassing now. 

His small face twisted in disgust as Crosshair settled back against her arm. “You’d look terrible with red hair.”

“Thanks, dear.” Senna lifted her eyes to the barracks ceiling and tried not to sigh back at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Echo

“It’s all yours.”

Senna looked up from her datapad as Echo entered the cabin, tilting his head to knock water from his ears. She smiled as he gave his head one more pass with the towel. “You’re always so fast.”

“Yeah, well, it goes faster when you have less to wash. Dunno how you deal with all that hair.”

“I have thought about cutting it." Senna grimaced to herself. "We had so much water on Kamino, but here…”

Echo’s eyes widened slightly as he adjusted his scomp prostheses over the folded sleeve of his shirt. “I didn’t mean you should cut it! I was just…making an observation.”

Senna chuckled at his concern. “No one on this ship seems to be a fan of me cutting my hair. Not even Tech, and he’s the practical one.”

Echo didn’t appreciate the implication that he was impractical. “Well, people get used to things.” He shrugged as he hung his towel over the edge of the top rack to dry, reaching for his neural brace. “And you have nice hair.”

“Thanks, dear.” Senna smiled fondly as she watched Echo replace his headpiece, eyes going blank for a second as the system reconnected. Then he was back, giving her a wry look as he took the chair across from her. 

“If you do cut it, can I have some of it? It’s the same color and everything.”

That made her laugh. “Sure thing. We’ll just glue it to your head and it’ll look totally natural.”

“I’m sure.” Echo sighed. “Plenty of troopers shave their heads. I guess I should be glad I don’t have to keep up with that.”

Senna bit her lip as she smiled in sympathy. It was different when you had a choice. It was different when it wasn’t just another thing that had been taken away. “It’s a good thing you have such lovely eyebrows. And…armpit hair.”

Echo guffawed and then Senna was laughing at the way he was laughing, sure she saw tears of mirth in his eyes. “Thanks!” the soldier gasped, leaning heavily on the arm of the chair as he shook with laughter. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

@lightwise @bad-batch-lurker @freesia-writes @kybercrystals94 @just-here-with-my-thoughts @clonethirstingisreal

#star wars the bad batch #clone force 99 #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars oc #dr divehdi #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb echo #tbb omega #the little moment writes #braided together

[lunafoster]

Oh No (part 2)

AN: here’s part twoooo!! Sorry for the long wait, it took me a while to Finnish it because of me being studying most of the time (I’m in the middle of finals, please wish me luck).

Warnings: none I think? Bad English (I’m sorry, I promise I’m trying), A little bit of sexy(?) dancing if you squint really hard; Bojan and his girlfriend being cute; Käärijä being shy and having thoughts about them both (not like that).

Pairings: Bojan Cvjetićanin x fem!actress!reader + a tiny bit of Bojan x Käärijä + a tiny bit of Käärijä x fem!actress!reader

Words: 1500+ (so, funny story, part 1 has 1685 words and this one has 1658 hehe)

Part 1

Anyway, let’s go!

After the… incident with Bojan and meeting his girlfriend, because Jere refused to call it anything else, the Finn had continued to make a fool out of himself that night.

Even though he had been partying with the others, his eyes would always end up wondering back to them dancing together. And, of course, they sometimes caught him staring.

Jere was aware that Bojan was hot; in fact, he had been made aware of that ever since they had met in Madrid. As time went on and they started getting closer, he also found out, to his demise, that he was a great person: funny, caring, kind, charming and talented.

However, what he hadn’t known was that he had a girlfriend, and that she was equally as hot and loveable as him, as he had discovered when he talked to her for a bit. What are the odds, huh.

He gave up trying to party at around 3 am, sitting with Luke in one of the tables and just discreetly watching as the two moved their hips to the beat in their own little world.

The Serbian, who was nursing his fifth drink of the night, watched him carefully and followed his fleeting gaze to Bojan and the girl, slightly smirking when he figured it out.

“Go dance with them,” he told Käärijä with the smuggest look on his face.

“What?” The rapper sputtered, quickly moving his eyes away from the couple, cursing himself when he felt the heat rising towards his cheeks.

“I think they wouldn’t mind, honestly,” Luke pointed to where the two were dancing with his head and took a sip of his drink.

Jere didn’t answer, his gaze shifting to them again and watching as they smiled at each other while dancing. They didn’t look like they wanted company, at all.

He turned back to Luke and awkwardly smiled, trying to get the thoughts of the couple out of his mind. He didn’t want to bother them with his presence in the middle of their- whatever they were doing with the heart eyes.

The Finn was about to tell his companion as much when, out of the corner of his eye, he could make out Alessandra talking to the girl and taking her away from Bojan to dance with her.

Bojan, because of course he would, immediately crossed gazes with him and started walking towards their booth.

“Here comes loverboy!” sung Luke before getting up, mumbling something about another drink.

“Wait-” and he was too far away to hear him, if not for the loud music.

“What’s wrong? Are you not having fun?” was the first thing Bojan asked, getting all close to his ear to be heard over the song that was playing in that moment.

Käärijä felt his warm breath on his face and didn’t know if he could blush any harder. Thank the colourful lights for covering that up for him.

The other man was looking at him waiting for an answer and Jere didn’t know if it was because of the alcohol, but his eyes were glassy. Bojan might be drunk. What do I do? Shit.

“Fun, yes yes,” he replied, breaking off of his stupor and putting on a smile, “and you?”

“Well,” he started, “they stole my girlfriend so I don’t have anyone to dance with now.” He was pouting.

Jere had the sudden urge to bite the other man’s lips, but he sure as hell wasn’t about to go and act on it. What kind of thoughts was he having in the worst moment possible? Stop it!

“I dance with you,” he told him, didn’t know where that idea came from, “if you want?” he added, more as a second thought than anything else.

Bojan smiled and took his hand, dragging him towards where all the dancing bodies were. And they did, dance, drink some more and laugh at each other’s weird moves.

A latin beat came up, Bojan was swaying and he didn’t know if it was from all the drinks he’d had or because of the music, but he was moving towards him and he didn’t know what to do.

“This is sexy song,” he put his hands up, in between himself and Bojan’s chest,” your girlfriend dance with you?”

“She can come dance with us,” he said with a smirk, taking his wrists in both of his hands and slowly lowering them to his sides.

Jere’s breath caught in his throat when he felt the Slovene’s hands on his hips, his eyes widened as he looked up at him, being unable to figure out if it meant anything at all for the other.

~~

Bojan was smiling, drunk enough that he could dance like this with the Finn and not feel shy about it. He looked down and his eyes softened when he saw the slight panic in Jere’s own.

He was about to withdraw from the other and apologise for making him uncomfortable when he felt a pair of familiar hands on his right forearm, slowly removing his hand from the rapper’s hip and letting a body get right in the middle of them, his girlfriend’s back to his chest and her smile directed at Käärijä as she looked up at him.

“Is this okay?” she asked him, looping her arms around the Finn’s neck.

~~

The older male swallowed and gave Bojan a questioning look. Was it really okay? When the other one gave him an encouraging nod, Jere moved his hands to her sides, with his heart beating so loudly he believed everyone else could hear it over the music.

The Finn found himself enjoying the next few songs. Dancing with the other two became fun when all they did was tell weird jokes and laugh at each other’s clumsiness.

It was around 6 am that his eyes started closing and his movements became more lethargic, yawning every now and then due to the tiredness he felt, the events of the day catching up to him.

“Should we get you to your hotel room, Jere?” the girl asked him, a soft smile on her face.

“I go alone,” he answered, not wanting to bother them with having to accompany him, “it’s fine.”

“We were thinking of going to sleep too, so we can totally get you to yours first!” Bojan said, slapping his thighs as he got up.

He couldn’t help but agree. It was true he liked their company, so what if he didn’t refuse? Maybe he wanted to keep talking to them for a little longer while they got to his room.

They said their goodbyes to the people that were still there and headed for the reception of the hotel to get to the lifts, all the while Bojan had an arm around him and the girl had her hand intertwined with his, which he assumed was because they were both a little bit more than tipsy.

When they entered the lift, a silence fell upon them. And Jere started looking anywhere except at them. When he sneaked a glance, Bojan and his girlfriend seemed to be having a conversation with their eyes.

He prided himself for being more sober than them and, in his slightly drunken state, he didn’t mind asking them what was happening. Though, as soon as he opened his mouth, the doors opened to his room’s corridor.

“Did you see Luke asleep on top of Remo?” she said, giggling cutely, or at least it was cute in his ears.

“And Remo’s face was priceless,” Bojan added, “he was like trying to ask for help but with his eyes.”

He couldn’t help but laugh with the other two, and inwardly mourn the loss of their chuckles when he could see the door to his room.

“This my room,” he told them both as he searched for the card in his pockets.

They both nodded and looked at each other before looking back at him.

“We had a great night, Jere!” she stated excitedly, “maybe we could hang out tomorrow?”

“We can go have lunch together or something,” Bojan agreed with her, nodding at him, trying to convince him.

As if he needed convincing.

“Yes yes,” he smiled, opening the door, “we see tomorrow.”

The other two high-fived and whispered little ‘yes’s, then said their goodbyes to Jere.

When he was about to close the door, the girl stopped him and gave him a peck on the cheek and murmured a silent ‘good night’ in Finnish, leaving him flustered with his head outside his room while the two left for their own.

~~

When the couple arrived at their room, they wasted no time in hoping into the shower, both too tired to do anything other than clean each other up and put on their pyjamas.

Bojan sat down on the bed while she removed her make up, looking at her with the most loving eyes she had ever seen.

“What did you think?”

“Of what?” she countered. “The night? Everyone? Or someone in particular?”

“You know what I’m asking,” he sighed, softly laughing to himself. She knew him so well.

“I like him,” she said, then, softly laughing as well, “I see why you told me so much about him.”

She went towards him once she was done with her skincare and straddled him on the bed, pecking his lips once, twice, and smiling with adoration in her eyes.

“Good.” He pushed them both further up the bed and gently settled them down inside the covers, cuddling up to her. “I kinda like him, too.”

They both smiled at each other with their foreheads touching and their legs entwined.

“Good night,” they whispered at the same time, to which they giggled for a while.

“We should really sleep,” she said in between giggles.

“We should,” he agreed, “we’re really drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk,” her eyelids began to fall.

“You are,” he closed his eyes.

Sleep took over them rather quickly that night.

AN2: hope you enjoyed it! If you want any more parts you’ll have to give it some love… this one took more time than I expected it to, but I still liked writing it! Love y’all! <3

#bojan cvjeticanin #kaarija #eurovison 2023 #esc #eurovision #esc 2023 #bojan cvjetićanin x fem!reader #bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjetićanin x reader #Käärijä x Bojan #Käärijä x reader

[gartenofbanny]

Blitzo and Moxxie's relationship has developed somewhat in Truth Seekers, with both members respecting each other. With Moxxie's trip orchestra confronting an illusion of Blitzo both of them sharing their feelings about their friendship, promising each other that they'll be better, and Moxxie saying that he'll improve on speaking his thoughts.

Once the side effects wore off, Blitzo tells Moxxie that he's hard on him because he knows what Moxxie is capable of. While I do find Blitzo's negativity towards Moxxie to be some sort of tough love to be bullshit, I don't believe that his compliments to Moxxie weren't sincere. Especially the part where Blitzo wants Moxxie to call him "Blitz" instead of "Sir" signifying, to me, that Blitzo wants Moxxie to be more comfortable around him so that he wouldn't lose him. Moxxie never called the people he worked for their actual name up until now which can also be an indicator that Blitzo respects Moxxie more.

And then Season 2 came along and undid all of that development between the two main characters. While they obviously haven't interacted at all in The Circus and barely interacted in Western Energy, I might as well list the things Blitzo did or said to Moxxie starting with Seeing Stars, to EXEs and OHs, and Unhappy Campers.

Blitzo

In Seeing Stars, Blitzo basically insults Moxxie's weight after Loona does the exact same thing

Blitzo calls Moxxie, Millie's "whorebag husband"

In EXES and OHs, Blitzo in annoyance pushes Moxxie out of the helicopter they're in regardless of the fact that Moxxie is shivering in fear

In EXES and OHs, Blitzo threatens Moxxie simply due to the fact that he thinks Moxxie spread rumors about him. Idk why Moxxie was like the first suspect in his head-

In Unhappy Campers, Blitzo literally threatens Moxxie in order for Moxxie to leave his office but he also tells him to handle the task as well. I get that he was frustrated because he was trying to find Barbie Wire for some reason, but I'd think that he would be a bit calmer especially after the talk between the two had.

Blitzo tells Moxxie that he doesn't trust Moxxie with anything because of how he fucks up his job despite telling Moxxie that he does a good job all the way back in Truth Seekers.

Then lastly, Blitzo calls Moxxie a disgrace with no hesitation, but this is pretty understandable because Moxxie did spend an entire fucking week on one mission that usually takes them at most hours to complete.

So, Blitzo in Season 2 hasn't changed in the slightest, he's still the asshole character he is to Moxxie since the beginning with the difference being it isn't shown on screen that much and I'll explain why later on.

Moxxie

While Blitzo's character has stayed mostly the same, Moxxie seems to have regressed heavily instead. Throughout Season 2 he's way more submissive towards Blitzo and more like his lapdog instead of his employee as he does random stuff to please Blitzo.

I am a bit burnt out right now, so I don't feel like providing examples however I will say this. In all of the examples I provided about Blitzo being a bully towards Moxxie especially when Moxxie is on screen, none of them show Moxxie actually talking back to Blitzo. Moxxie just takes it.

In Season 1 he would insult Blitzo back, even though Blitzo always got the last fucking word it shows that Moxxie was willing to stand up for himself against bigger demons. But Moxxie right now is just a pussy. I wish I could be nicer, but comparing Moxxie's personality from Season 1 to Moxxie's personality from Season 2, it's just night and day. Moxxie in Season 1 was more assertive towards assholes even towards the main characters, but Moxxie in Season 2 is more assertive to the antagonists and that's it. Especially when you callback to Truth Seekers when he says himself "Be better at speaking my mind", but he doesn't.

There's also the fact that Moxxie still continues to call Blitzo "sir" even after Blitzo wanted him to call him by his name. I don't believe Moxxie calling Blitzo "Sir" is a subconscious reaction anymore considering the number of times Moxxie calls Blitzo "sir" in Unhappy Campers alone. If Moxxie truly wants to respect Blitzo he'd call Blitzo by his name, hell Blitzo was the one who literally wanted him to call him by his name in Truth Seekers. Because now that I actually look into it further I don't believe it's a subconscious reaction anymore because if it was he would correct himself and call Blitzo "Blitz" so it would seem that he would at least try to respect his "friend".

Conclusion

So yeah, I believe that Moxxie and Blitzo's relationship went from two toxic employees, to them both actually coming to an understanding about each other, to one being a bully and another one being a submissive lapdog who tries to please said bully. That's their relationship as of Season 2 and whatever development they had just fell off a damn cliff and was cremated after the fall.

You guys may remember I said that Blitzo and Moxxie's relationship isn't being shown on screen that much in Season 2, well that's because most of Season 2 has became the Stolitz show with unneeded or more badly written episodes sprinkled inside of it. I'll make a blog about how much of a goddamn mess Stolitz is, but I will say just because the show focuses on it doesn't guarantee that it's going to be written well. Just look at Velma.

Anyway, that's all I have for today. Thank you all for reading and I hope you all have a nice day! ❤️

#vivziepop critical #helluva boss #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop #helluva boss critique #helluva critical #vivienne medrano

[floradinterlunium]

GCF Tokyo

Will Forever be the Captain of this “Ship.” I wish every supporter of Jikook today could have been in the fandom 5 years ago. Could have had the pleasure of waking up on November 8th to this beautiful declaration of love! Jikook have given us so much since then But this for the moment takes the cake!

I joined the fandom in 2015 closer to 2016. I was barely in the fandom two weeks before being pretty convinced that Jikook were more than friends ( I can go into detail later about that).  I remember constantly being torn between certainty and uncertainty because while jikook were questionable pre 2017, they were still more subtle. However, 2017 was a crescendo, every month getting a tad bit louder...we all knew something was on the horizon and then September hit and JK had a breach in his security and his itinerary was leaked. This sent the fandom into overdrive. Half the fandom scrambling to rid the internet of this info, and the other half torn between letting their curiosity get the best of them and shutting down sesange gossip. However, regardless of where one stood, if you were active in the fandom at all during this time you heard the rumors, you saw the itinerary, you learned about the gossip--JK and JM were going to Tokyo in October for JM’s birthday and JK paid for it. I remember trying hard to not talk about it or think about it. It could very well be a lie and it wasn’t right how we came to learn about it! Bloggers overall did a good job of shutting down discussions on this topic so there was silence on it...until there wasn’t.

Jimin’s birthday comes and goes and no trip. This leaves many to forget the rumors all together. Then October 28th hits and the below pictures are shared.

The whole fandom is going crazy! Jungkook and Jimin are in fact heading to Tokyo. They were spotted at Busan International Airport and seen off by their families. No one wants to say it but we are all thinking it...the rumors were true...and that was a legit sesange.

Every day they are gone we are being shown picture after picture of their time in Tokyo. And I remember thinking...Did JK really pay for all this...did he truly do this for JM’s birthday?!?!

Then the trip was over...the fandom was still recovering from the news that JM and JK literally went on vacation together and it was an all expense paid trip...paid for by none other than JK.  Then JM drops another bomb.

The fandom is sent back into overdrive...we could just see the pink aura around them! And it made all of us crazy because we couldn’t believe this was all happening and we were getting to experience it in real time.

And just as we were thinking we are in heaven...JM post his clips of their trip together. We are sent again into party celebration mode. 

When I tell you 2017 was the year, it was the year!!! It was day after day of being hit with something new. But just when we thought we were done the crescendo of the year reached it’s peek...JK drops GCF in Tokyo. And there was a short quiet. 

There was a quiet stillness because while most of us believed Jikook were a couple, we had resolved ourselves to the fact that we could be wrong. GCF Tokyo changed all that. 

I remember watching it over and over and over again thinking...OH MY! This is real...I’ve always felt it was real but this...this makes me know it’s real. It was a quiet but loud realization that reverberated across the fandom. Jungkook is in LOVE LOVE with Jimin. For a moment I thought this was their coming out video...because who could watch this and question Jikook at all! Was this it! Was this their way of telling the world who they love? 

While many still found a way to discredit GCFT, I think it was in a way JK’s way of declaring his love to JM, declaring it to anyone that would listen. I believe most of Korea heard it and we heard it! November 8th was the day my certainty turned into assurance. It is one of the most beautiful films and every time I watch it I am in awe of JK’s boldness. My heart melts thinking of JM’s reaction to seeing it for the first time. How loved he must have felt! How surprised...he must have cried so much!

When they returned they kept surprising us. Every year since 2017 has been a little louder. I think GCFT showed them that they could get away with a lot. That they could be a glass closet...they could be loud and people still would feign ignorance or deny it. It gave them a degree of freedom to be themselves without fear of the repercussions. If people weren’t convinced by GCFT they will never be convinced!

I wanted to write about this because I hear many people scoff at any mention of GCFT and say things like...that was years ago! And that bothers me to my core because GCFT is tantamount to a love letter or a proposal. A proposal is a proposal no matter if it was 5 seconds ago or 5 years ago. It doesn’t matter if the couple is still together or not...the proposal happened proving at the very least that love was once there! 

Saying that it was years ago is not a rebuttal, I’m not even sure what one is trying to suggest with that statement. Are you saying that because it’s old, it’s irrelevant? If that’s the case you are admitting that 5 years ago it was relevant, meaning you accept that they were dating 5 years ago? But most that make these claims wouldn’t agree to those terms. They throw out that’s old to diminish the impact of it...to pretend like old evidence isn’t evidence today of a relationship. 

Saying “ that was years ago” is a senseless statement that holds no genuine meaning. GCF Tokyo will always be proof...even if they broke up it would still be proof that Jikook were in love in 2017! It will always be proof because it’s like a page from JK’s diary...it’s his heart on the screen! It’s his love letter to JM and that will never change. That is a fact and will always stand to be true...10, 20, 100 years from now...GCFT will still be JK’s love letter! No amount of time changes that.

Now we can all argue when their relationship started and we all have our theories but stamp in the timeline that is certain is November 8, 2017. They were definitely in a committed relationship at that time and since I see no change in their dynamics other than growing intimacy, domesticity, and comfort...it’s safe to assume that their timeline is still active and moving. 

#jikook #kookmin #gcf tokyo #jimin #jungkook #jikook is real #jk loves jimin #jimin loves jk

[feyhunter78]

Can I request an Aemond and blind!reader fic? I think it would be an interesting dynamic. Aemond having one eye but being her eyes to guide her 🥹 maybe she lives at the keep as the daughter of someone on the court? Free reign!

You definitely can love!!! This idea is super cute🥺 it’s unedited and a bit short but I hope you like it!!

The Prince and His Musician

You rest your head against the neck of your lute, fingers strumming the strings as the notes fill your mind. Your mother tells you that the gods must have gifted you your musical abilities as penance for depriving you of your sight. She is one of the court musicians and has been training you since you were a child to one day take her place.

The sound of clapping makes your head jolt up.

“Even in your musings you make the most beautiful music.” Aemond’s voice fills the room and you don’t have the courage to tell him that his voice is more beautiful than any song you’ve ever heard.

“My apologies, my prince I did not hear you come in.”

He chuckles softly and sits beside you, placing a hand on yours. “I did not wish to disturb you. You know how much I adore watching you play.”

You duck your head bashful. “If I was aware you were here I could play something more to your liking.”

He lifts your chin and you feel his gaze upon your face. “You assume I do not enjoy simply sitting beside you as you craft your masterpieces?”

When you were young you had heard tales of the One-Eyed Prince, of his swiftness with a sword and his cold nature. When the Queen summoned your mother to his quarters you were sent instead, your mother suffering from a sore wrist.

You were guided by a kingsguard who announced your presence and lead you to a chair.

“Do you have any requests my prince?” You asked, hands at the ready.

He stood, and you heard his footsteps stop before you. “You are blind?”

You nodded, “yes, my prince, since birth. I can request for another musician to take my place if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No.” He said, a bit too quickly. “No, please play something calming, I wish for music as I read.” His footsteps receded.

You began, playing a simple tune your mother would play for you as a child. As you played, threading songs into songs, and adding your own melodies, you heard a thud.

“My prince?” You asked, waiting for a response. When none came you stood and made your way over to where you assumed Aemond was sitting.

You felt around until your hands met warm flesh. Gently you ran your hands down the skin, feeling his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose, then your fingers brushed over puckered skin.

This must be the scar you heard whisper about.

You feel further marveling at the fine leather covering his eye, lost in your wandering when a hand grips your wrist.

“My prince, I am so sorry, I heard a thump and I came to check on you.” You apologized, jumping back.

Aemond’s grip loosened. “I fell asleep and dropped my book.”

“Oh, I see, again my deepest apologies.” You wonder if he’ll cut off your hand or kill you. You’ve heard dozens of stories of the cruelty of the Targaryens.

He releases your hand and sighs. “I must applaud you, not many musicians have been able to lull me to sleep with a few simple songs.”

That one moment changed your life forever. Suddenly you were the prince’s personal musician, he called for you whenever he was stressed or upset. He sought you out every free moment of his day, much like he did today.

You thought yourself foolish now, Aemond was the kindest man you’ve ever encountered. He walked you from his chambers and any other place you were summoned by him, he brought you sweets, and ensured that you had the finest instruments in the realm.

“Y/N, are you listening?” He brought you out of your thoughts of the past and you nodded.

“Of course, my prince.”

He’d released your chin and took your hand in his. “I wish for you to accompany me to the gardens.”

You stood and he linked your arms together before making sure your lute was safely tucked away.

He lead you out of the room and towards the gardens. You inhaled the smell of flowers and fresh dirt.

“Is there a particular reason you asked me here?”

He hummed lowly, then helped you sit on a bench. “I wished to ask you something.”

“Is it for a song, because I have no instruments with me.”

He chuckled. “No sweet one, I do not desire a song.” He took your hand and pressed it to his lips. “I desire your hand.”

You sat there in shock. “You wish to take my hand or you wish to marry me?”

“Marry you, Y/N I wish for you to be my wife, if you will have me.” His voice is filled with fondness, and it makes your heart sing.

You wrap your arms around him a wide smile lighting up your face. “Yes, yes I will have you, Aemond nothing would make me happier.”

He tilts your chin up, presses a gentle kiss to your lips, and you can feel him smiling.

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir

#aemond targaryen #hotd #aemond x fem!reader #prince aemond x reader #aemond x you #meg's writing #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd fanfic #aemond x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond oneshot #anon question #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fanfiction #prince aemond #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #anon request

[cherryrainn]

Onceler x reader song fic with the song ‘Puppy Princess’ by Hot Freaks? Like a fluff type thing where Onceler ends up with the reader in the end?

━━ ✧ 𝐩𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

─ ✩ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ; onceler + you

─ ✩ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ; i love this song hehe

─ ✩ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; none

─ ✩ 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 ; here

onceler had always been the goofy, optimistic friend of your boyfriend. he couldn't help but feel a bit awkward around you, especially when your radiant smile and cheerful personality lit up the room. you were the kind of person who made everyone feel at ease, and he couldn't deny the massive crush he had on you.

you know me as your boyfriend's goofy friend

whenever you were around, he became clumsier than usual, tripping over his own words and knocking things over. he tried to play it cool, but it was hard to hide the way his heart raced whenever you were near.

i seem to have this effect on women

as the days passed, onceler found himself daydreaming about you more often. he'd catch himself lost in thought, imagining what it would be like to make you laugh, to share stories, and maybe even hold your hand. but he couldn't bring himself to confess his feelings; after all, you were with his best friend, and he didn't want to complicate things.

and your friends aren't as goofy as i am

onceler did his best to keep you entertained whenever you were around. he'd tell jokes, nod enthusiastically at your points, and do whatever he could to make you smile. but deep down, he couldn't shake the sadness that lingered in his heart because you already had a boyfriend.

i try my best to keep you entertained, always laughing at the jokes you are saying

he'd watch the two of you together, laughing and enjoying each other's company, and it tugged at his heartstrings. he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if he were the one making you laugh, sharing moments, and being the one by your side. yet, he knew he had to respect your relationship and wait for the right moment, if it ever came.

i nod my head when you make a point! oh, oh

as time passed, onceler's feelings for you grew stronger, and he found himself daydreaming about the possibility of being with you. he'd imagine moments when he could hold you close and share a kiss, the kind that made his heart race.

kiss me, kiss me with your eyes closed. whisper that your heart shows. all i want is you.. yeah, you

in his quiet moments, he'd wish that you could see him as more than just your boyfriend's goofy friend, that you'd close your eyes and kiss him like you meant it, and that he could hold you and hear you say that he was more than just funny to you. but he kept those thoughts to himself, waiting for the right time to make his feelings known.

hold me, hold me, i'm your bunny. tell me I'm not funny. tell me i'm legit

he couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness when he thought about your boyfriend. he knew that your heart belonged to someone else, and it left him feeling weak and helpless.

cause i feel weak

one day, as you all hung out together, onceler tried to hide his feelings behind his usual goofy demeanor. you and your boyfriend were sharing a moment, laughing and holding hands. onceler watched from the sidelines, his heart aching.

and your hands and your feet

your boyfriend noticed onceler's subdued expression and asked, "hey, onceler, you seem pretty quiet today. everything alright?"

onceler forced a smile and replied, "oh, yeah, just lost in thought, you know? life stuff."

are precious and i'll never feel your touch

you, always perceptive, gave him a warm smile. "if you ever wanna talk about it, we're here for you, onceler."

he nodded, grateful for your kindness, but deep down, he knew that the one thing he couldn't talk about was the one thing he wanted the most – to confess his feelings for you.

you guys came to the restaurant where i clean

in the town where you guys lived, there was a cozy little restaurant where he worked part-time. it was a quaint place, known for its homely atmosphere and delicious food. and it just so happened that you and your boyfriend decided to visit that restaurant one evening.

i saw you in the window, i got flushed

as onceler spotted you through the window, his heart leaped with excitement. you looked even better in the soft, warm glow of the restaurant's lights. he couldn't resist the urge to rush outside and greet you.

"oooh hey, guys!" onceler called out, his voice filled with enthusiasm as he approached your table. you and your boyfriend turned toward him, surprised by the sudden burst of energy.

i rushed outside and cracked some jokes

"hey there," your boyfriend greeted, offering a friendly smile.

onceler couldn't help but feel a bit nervous, but he pushed through it, cracking some of his goofiest jokes. he wanted to make you laugh, to stand out in some way.

you both chuckled at his antics, genuinely amused by his quirky sense of humor. onceler basked in the moment, thrilled to have your attention, even if it was just as the restaurant's resident comedian.

and in a while i came and got your plates. and you guys went on the rest of your date

as the evening continued, onceler had the opportunity to serve your table. he tried to be as attentive as possible, refilling your drinks and ensuring everything was perfect. he watched as you and your boyfriend shared stories and glances, your connection evident.

i scrubbed cheese and wished i was somebody else

meanwhile, onceler was busy scrubbing cheese off dishes in the back, his heart heavy with a longing he couldn't ignore. he wished, just for a moment, that he could be somebody else – somebody who could sweep you off your feet and make you laugh like no one else could. but for now, all he could do was hide his feelings behind his goofy facade and continue cleaning, knowing that he was just the restaurant's quirky employee, while you were the shining star of his dreams.

kiss me

weeks passed since that evening at the restaurant, but onceler couldn't get you out of his damn mind. every day, he watched from afar as you and your boyfriend seemed to grow closer. it was hard for him to admit, even to himself, that he had developed deep feelings for you.

kiss me with your eyes closed

then, one day, onceler received a message from you. it wasn't really a surprise, you were his best friend after all. the text read, "can we talk? i need a friend right now."

his heart raced as he quickly replied, "of course! i'm here for you. do you wanna come over?"

whisper that your heart shows

you arrived at oncelers place later that day, looking visibly upset. he welcomed you inside, offering a comforting smile. "hey, y/n. what's going on? is everything okay?"

all i want is you

you sighed, taking a seat on his couch. "no, everything's not okay," you confessed. "i just broke up with my boyfriend."

yeah, you

onceler's eyes widened in surprise and concern. "i'm so sorry to hear that. sooo... you wanna talk about it?"

hold me

you nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. "it's just...things weren't working out, and i realized that i've been ignoring my own feelings for a while now. i thought i could make it work, but i can't."

hold me, i'm your bunny

he listened attentively as you poured out your heart, offering a supportive presence. "i'm really sorry you're going through this. i'm here for you, okay...? you're not alone."

tell me i'm not funny

you managed a weak smile. "thanks."

tell me i'm legit

with that, you continued to spend the evening together, finding comfort and companionship in each other's company.

cause i feel weak

in the weeks that followed your breakup, you and onceler had grown closer. what started as a simple friendship had blossomed into something more meaningful. you found solace in his goofy humor, and he admired your resilience and kindness.

and your hands and your feet

late-night talks turned into shared dinners, and before you knew it, you were spending most of your free time together. onceler's presence became a source of comfort, and he cherished the moments you spent together.

are precious and i'll never feel your touch

onceler couldn't help but feel like a fool. he cherished the moments you shared, the laughter, and the deep conversations.

i'm a fool

yet, he couldn't escape the nagging doubt that you'd never see him as more than just a friend.

i'm a fool

late at night, he would lay awake, his mind filled with thoughts of you. he questioned whether he was being foolish for letting himself fall for someone who might never feel the same way. the uncertainty gnawed at him, but he couldn't deny the warmth your presence brought into his life.

i'm a fool

the air was thick with tension, both of you sitting on onceler's porch under the shimmering moonlight. you couldn't help but feel drawn to him. onceler, his heart pounding in his chest, looked at you with a mix of hope and nervousness.

kiss me

you turned to him, your eyes locking with his. "onceler," you began softly, your voice wavering just slightly, "there's something i need to tell you."

kiss me with your eyes closed

onceler's gaze held yours, his heart racing even faster. "what is it, y/n?"

whisper that your heart shows

taking a deep breath, you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his. it was a tender, uncertain move, but it held a world of emotions. "since i... i broke up with my boyfriend," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "i realized that i've been looking for something, someone, and i think... it's you."

all i want is you, yeah, you

onceler's eyes widened, and a wave of disbelief washed over him. "y...you mean..."

come on now

you nodded, a shy smile playing on your lips. "i mean, i wanna give us a chance. i want to be with you, onceler."

hold me, hold me, i'm your bunny. tell me i'm not funny. tell me I'm legit.

his heart soared, and he couldn't hold back his grin any longer. "y/n, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear that." he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, passionate kiss. it was a moment filled with all the pent-up feelings, the unspoken words, and the hope that had been building between you.

kiss me

as you pulled away, both of you were breathless, cheeks flushed with emotion. onceler cradled your face in his hands, his eyes filled with tenderness. "you have no idea how much you mean to me."

kiss me with your eyes closed! whisper that your heart shows

you chuckled softly, leaning your forehead against his. "oh, trust me. i know."

all i want is you, yeah, you

#ONCELER #the lorax #y/n #reader insert #x reader #ask #onceler x reader #fluff #songfic #puppy princess #onceler fandom #the onceler #lorax 2012 #lorax fandom

[xenonsreturn]

In Another Life

A short story of Garrus Vakarian and Commander Shepard

I need to do . . . something. I need to get out of here. If I stay in the battery any longer, I think I'm going to explode. Why does this room have to be so damn small?

But where the hell am I going to go? No matter where I go, I have to bring my head with me. What I really need is to get out of my head.

Where is this coming from? I've been doing fine . . . well, as fine as any turian on a suicide mission can do. But now, I can't seem to think straight. I'm nervous. Which is new for me. I can't concentrate on my calibrations and they seem to go on forever. I find myself pacing. There's a buzzing all over my skin. Maybe I'm sick. I could go see Dr Chakwas . . . no. Bad idea. She'd remove me from duty – or worse, give me medicine.

I'm heading for the mess. Maybe just having something in my stomachs will help me settle down.

When did this start, anyway? Hmm. Illium. No, it was after that. Hell, I don't know. I know I was fine when Shepard and I tracked down Sedonis. I still wonder whether I could have taken the shot. Is that what's bothering me?

No, that's not it. Even if I could have, I saw what Shepard was doing. She didn't want me to take it. Saving me from myself, she said. Hmm. She's done that a couple times now. She's always trying to pull me back. I don't know why she cares so much. It's really irritating.

Still, I have to admit, I make better choices when she's around. And when she's not – well, I turn into Archangel. It's a lot easier to be Archangel, but . . . well, I feel stronger, somehow, here on the Normandy. And it's good to have some familiar faces around sometimes. Joker. Tali. Even Liara for a bit there. Shepard, of course. I probably have more in common with her than anyone else on the ship. Hell, than anyone else in my life. I liked it when she used to come down and talk, before Liara came back. Somehow, she made the battery feel a little larger, even though there were two of us in that tiny space. But now, she and Liara are back together, and she hasn't been around since, and I -

Oh.

Oh, damnation.

How did I not see this happening? And now it's too late, isn't it?

I thought – I guess I thought . . . that she . . . maybe . . . ah, hell.

Can I go back to not knowing what's bothering me? That was better than this.

Great. Now I'm talking to myself. Or hearing voices in my head. Whatever. But I'm right. I can't go into hiding – not from myself. I turn around and get a seat at the end of an empty table.

I'm going back to the battery. I need . . . cover. I do not want company right now. No, Garrus, dammit, you're going to the mess!

I'm not alone long, however. Tali shows up. Great.

"Is this seat taken?" She asks – then, without waiting for a reply, she sits down anyway.

"Uhh . . ." I look the length of the empty table. "Doesn't look like it." None of the other seats are taken, either – why don't you try that one way over there?

She just looks at me. Well, at least I think that's what she's doing. That damn mask makes her hard to read. Actually, come to think of it, I wish I had a mask. Lucky lady.

"What are you having?" She asks.

I pretend to be relaxed. I am sure I suck at it. "I don't know. Whatever Rupert's serving that won't kill me, I guess."

Tali chuckles. "Well, whatever won't kill you, won't kill me, either. Let's split an order."

So much for no company. Back to the battery, I guess. "Actually, I'm not hungry after all," I say, and start to get up.

With surprising speed, Tali reaches across the table and grabs my wrist. Not only is she fast, she's strong. In spite of my shock, I have to admit, I'm impressed.

"Don't. Go. Anywhere. Garrus."

Well, this is . . . unwelcome. I slowly sit back down. I have a bad feeling about this.

"You've been acting . . . strange, Garrus. Distracted."

This is worse than I thought. People can tell.

"Ah, I don't think – "

Tali cuts me off. "Don't deny it. You haven't been yourself since we left Hagalaz."

"Well – "

"I've seen you pacing."

"No, I – "

"Your aim was off on the last mission."

Okay, that's too much. "Now, wait just one goddamn minute – "

She sighs. "Garrus, calm down. It's obvious you've got some knot you're trying to untie, and we feel – "

"WE?" This day just keeps getting worse and worse. "Who's we?"

"Oh, you know, Miranda, Jack, Samara, Chakwas, Gabby."

Just when I think I've hit bottom. At least Shepard's not on the list. And -

"Not Kelly?"

"No, not Kelly. I know it's her job, but . . . well, quite frankly, none of us can stand her."

I don't understand that at all, but I'm really beyond caring at this point.

"Look, Garrus, we just want to help."

Help. Fantastic. Not only can people tell, not only are they talking about it, now they want to help. I'm Archangel, goddamn it.

"Tali. Go hack some other project. Right. Now."

I stare into that mask. She seems to stare back for a moment, then shrugs and stands up. "Fine. I tried. Chakwas said you'd do this." She turns away, but then turns back and says, "Take care of it yourself, then, Garrus. Good luck with that. You need it."

I just look at her until she's gone. I wish I could take some satisfaction in hurting her feelings, but it's clear that she's not hurt. She's just pissed. And also, well, I don't want to hurt her, not really. She's a good person on the team. I like her. It's just . . . don't go trying to get under my skin like that! You're not invited!

"So – " A voice right next to me. I look up and Rupert is standing there.

"What do you want?" I growl. I am kind of pleased that he backs up a step.

"Uh, that's what I was going to ask you, Garrus," he says, a little breathlessly. He holds out the day's menu. "What do you want?"

I take it out of his hands. "Just . . . give me something that will kill me."

It has not been a good day.

Back in the battery. I am, in fact, hiding. I don't want to go out there. Where they know. I just wish, in here, I didn't know. I must have been blind. And now, I wish I still was.

I look around the little space. I don't have much of mine here. Because I don't have much that's mine. I never thought about it, never thought I was missing anything, but right now, I do. Damn, do I.

At my terminal, there's my dad's old insignia from the fleet. I wonder, did dad ever have to deal with this sort of thing? I can't imagine it. But then, we were always so different. He had discipline. I have . . . what? Lack thereof, I guess. I can't help but rush in . . . and maybe that's why I feel this way. If he could have felt something like this, Dad would have damped it down. But I can't. Not anymore.

The only other time . . . well, there she is. Her dog tags hang next to Dad's insignia. Scout Lidia Misuraca. I wish I didn't have these tags. Because that would mean she'd still be alive. She might have been halfway across the galaxy – hell, she might even be fighting us; we are with Cerberus, after all – but she'd be living. I've run it through my head a thousand times and I still don't know if there was anything different I could have done during that raid, something that might have saved her life – but I still wonder. And maybe that's why I'm out here now.

And maybe she's not all. I take off my visor and run my finger over the ten names carved in the frame. Yeah. I had a team. Good people. And now they're all dead. Because of me. Maybe that's another reason I'm in here – because everyone I touch, dies. It's safer. For them. For me.

I look at the message on the terminal screen. Took me nearly an hour to write it.

Commander,

When you have a moment, I have something I need to discuss with you.

- Garrus

Am I giving too much away? My finger hovers over the 'send' key. Do I dare? And then I realize, it's the only way through this. I hit the key.

I am surprised by the fact that I actually feel some small measure of relief. We're out of the holding pattern now, I guess. I took action – just a little, but enough to set . . . something . . . in motion. I don't know if it's the best thing, but at least it's something. And what the hell am I hoping for anyway? I know she's with Liara. There's nothing that will change that. Maybe if I'd said something earlier, before Illium . . . ah, but I didn't know then, did I? Dammit. And anyway, Liara makes Shepard happy. Who am I to stand in the way of that?

But don't you deserve some happiness, too, Garrus? It's odd, but I hear Shepard's voice asking this question. Do I? I don't know. Ask me most days, I'd say…no. I don't deserve it. But when we're together, maybe I feel like I do. Maybe because she's always seen the best in me. So maybe I do deserve some happiness – but just because I might deserve it, doesn't mean I get it. The galaxy is a cold, cold place. It doesn't care what we deserve. It doesn't care for justice. It's just dark. And I guess it's up to us to be the stars, to hold against the darkness. That's what I strive for. And in a different way, so does Shepard. Different, but . . . well, I guess I had an idea that maybe we were just same enough to have some overlap, maybe enough common ground to build . . . something more than this.

And now she could be on her way down here. Right now.

The reality of this hits me like a . . . well, like a missile to the face. Suddenly, I need to get out again. Cursing my stupid finger that sent the message, I make for the door, but before I get there, it opens.

Shepard.

Ah, hell. Here we go. "Ah, Shepard. Guess you, ah, got my message."

Her eyebrows arch. "What message?"

She came down here just to see me, just to talk with me. I feel torn between two emotions – elation, and it's about fucking time.

"Ah, never mind," I say, hoping my voice sounds steady. I'm surprised that it does. "Just something I wanted to talk to you about, but it can wait. What brings you down here?" Because it's been awhile.

"Okay, yeah," she says. "I want to know if you have any contacts that can keep an eye on Hagalaz for me. I know Liara's capable, but . . ." She trails off, and I can see the concern on her face.

"You want a couple extra eyes watching her back," I say, without even thinking about it. Of course she does.

She smiles. "Yeah, something like that."

I love her smile. I hate how much I love her smile. "I know of three guys off the top of my head – one from my days at C-Sec who became a freelance mercenary, and two I know from Omega. All three will do the job for money. But they're good. And once they commit, they'll see it through." I see the relief in her face, in her posture. "I'll send their contact information to your terminal." I want to throw myself out the nearest airlock. But really, what the hell else am I going to do? Deny her help? That's not in me, not for her.

"Thanks, Garrus." She pauses. "How you been? I feel like I haven't been down here in ages."

That's because you haven't. "Well," I say, "you've been pretty busy. No problem, though – you always know where to find me."

She leans up against the door jamb. "Yeah, but I've missed you, Garrus. Things have been . . . well, crazier than usual, but I miss coming down here, hanging out with you."

She is actually killing me.

"I mean, hell," she goes on. "With almost everyone else, I'm Commander Shepard – Savior of the Citadel. It's really . . . annoying." She smirks. "But you know, we've worked together for a while now. It's good talking to someone I know. Someone I trust. There's a hell of a lot less of that in the galaxy than there ought to be."

"Yeah," I say, because I can't think of anything else to say. And then, I find myself saying, "Shepard, you know what we need? We need a bar on this goddamn ship."

She laughs. "Hell, yes! That's a great idea, Garrus!" She looks towards my footlocker. "Hey, that reminds me, you got any of that Batarian ale left?"

I grin. I'm actually starting to relax a bit. She always does that to me. And she's the only one. "Yeah, I might have a couple bottles left."

I get out the bottles and pop the tops with my talon. She was so impressed the first time I did that.

"Cheers," she says as I hand her one. She tips the bottle back in my direction.

I return the gesture. "Cheers to you, Shepard," I say.

"Garrus, when we're off duty, just call me Hera. We've known each other long enough for that." I do not show how much what she just said means to me.

"Okay, Hera," I say, trying the name out. We both tip the ale back. It burns a bit, but man, the flavor is fantastic. It really lingers.

And then, as she lowers the bottle, I catch a . . . tightening in her face. Like a shadow passing over. And I'm not the smartest man alive, but I know where it came from. I could ignore it . . . ah, hell, no I can't. "So, Comm- ah, Hera. You and Liara? You've . . . worked things out?"

She looks at me, the smirk reappearing from the shadow. "You know me too well. You know that, Garrus?"

If it wasn't for the smirk, I'd change the subject. "Well, maybe I do," I say instead.

"Yeah. Yes," she says. "We have worked things out. Very . . . thoroughly."

I kind of want to die right now.

She sighs. "But it just means I'm going to miss her all over again."

And for a moment, my heart breaks a little – not for me, but for her. I don't know what to say, but I come up with, "Yeah, but it's good to have someone to miss. Someone you know you'll be coming back to. It's a good thing . . . a good thing to see."

I glance at my terminal, and I think of the only other one who ever was close to me. And now . . .

She clears her throat. "Yeah, Garrus. You're right. You're right. It is good. Thanks." I turn to see her smiling at me, but her eyes, well, human eyes, you can tell when there's something going on behind them. And I realize, I've just seen her, hurting for Liara, and she's just seen me, hurting for Lidia. The fact that we saw each other in this moment lightens my heart. I feel . . . bold.

"Anyway, Garrus," she says, breaking our gaze. "You said you sent me a message?"

Ah, crap.

"It's nothing, really, I'm just . . ." I set my bottle down and look at her. "You know, I work pretty well alone. I can go where I want, do what I want, when I want – I have focus. No distractions. Just the job. I don't need much. And it's good - I think, working that way, I make some small difference in the Galaxy."

"A lot more than that, Garrus."

I shrug, even though I'm touched by the compliment. "Maybe. But sometimes . . . well, I like to see what you and Liara have. And sometimes, I think, maybe I'd like something like that, too."

She smiles. "Thanks, Garrus. It's good. It is. But you know, it's also . . . complicated." She takes a breath. "Boy, that word doesn't even cover it. I died. She almost became . . . someone else. And both of us thought the other had moved on. When I think about it, I'm amazed we managed to find the space together." She chuckles. "It's really a mess!" She looks at me. "Who knows, maybe you're the lucky one."

"Huh, maybe." I don't feel lucky.

She raises her eyebrows.

I suddenly can't face her and turn away. "I'm glad for you, though. It's a . . . good mess. I never thought I'd say this, but maybe sometimes a mess is better. But for me, well . . . there's no one . . . available. And that's my fault. I don't really know how . . . I spend so much energy keeping people at arm's length – "

She interrupts. "Well, that's certainly saying something."

I turn back see her looking at my arms. I can't help but feel a little thrill go up my spine. "Yeah, I guess it is." I chuckle. How does she do this, make me talk when I just want to shut up? "But maybe I don't do enough to let people in. I just – well, sometimes I feel like I'm alone in the whole damn galaxy. I've been thinking about it a lot lately – maybe I'm a poorer man for that . . . I don't know, maybe I'm just getting old, thinking of where I might be down the relay." I start to feel like I'm saying too much, like I've already said too much. I want to change the subject. "Hell, I don't know why I bother thinking about this. We're not likely to survive this mission anyway."

But – typical Shepard – she won't let it go. "But you are thinking about it."

"Yeah." Dammit. "Yeah, I am." And then I look at her, and I see her being, well, who she is. For me. "Thanks, Shepard. There isn't really anyone else I'd want to talk to about this." And then it hits me, and my boldness returns. She deserves to know the truth. I step right up to her. "You know what I was saying about arm's length? Well, there's not many who've managed to get beyond that. In fact, ah, there's just one. It's good to have someone I can . . . trust." I take a breath and look her right in the eye. "It's you, Shepard. I'm a better man because of you. And I . . . I just . . ."

The words fail me, right when I need them the most.

I see her face soften, suddenly, and I know she knows. She understands.

I can't stand it. I turn my back on her. "Ah, never mind."

I feel her hands on me as she turns me back around. "Hey."

I look right at her. I am certain everything I'm feeling is plain upon my scarred face.

She rests her hands on my shoulders, and I see a thousand emotions playing across her face. "Garrus, I want you to know something. I trust you, too. I don't make a habit of that. And I don't let people get close to me easily or often, either." She pauses. "In this life, you and I are . . . .what we are. And I'm thankful for that." She nods. "But in another life . . ." She looks right into my eyes. "Garrus, yes. Yes."

I can feel something loosen in my chest. I know what she's saying, and although it kills me, I feel a surge of warmth throughout my whole body. She cares, she really does. It's not perfect, it's not the same thing I feel, but . . . I am important to her. I nod, and then I feel a real smile cross my face. "Hearing you say that . . . in this life . . . is . . . almost as good. Almost as good as another life."

#garrus vakarian #shepard x garrus #commander shepard #femshep #mass effect #liara t'soni #no shepard without vakarian #xenon2024 #xenonsreturn #xenon2022 #xenon #my story #my writing

[mysteriouslover1516]

IMAGINE:

I need your help

The young mechanic's breath quickened as his lock screen showed a text from MC, help with what? Was she starting to suspect him?

Uhm, you do remember that we have a paying customer in here?

Technically he wasn't lying, but maybe if he delayed the conversation she would forget? Highly unlikely.

Yes, I know

Richy sighed, might as well get this over. She wasn't gonna let up.

He is actually in the restroom right now, so if you hurry up...

Thanks Richy

A small smile tugged on his lips, as always sweet and polite. Ugh.

Can you think of anything to tell me about a "Jennifer" from Duskwood?

The phone nearly slipped from his hands as he read the text, how did MC know about Jennifer? And why was she asking HIM? Did she know his connection to the case? Oh god, this could be potentially bad and very catastrophic.

Quite a few things

I think I know three people with the name Jennifer in Duskwood.

He was bluffing, of course he was bluffing. He could feel the sweat on his hands starting to accumulate, how did she know about Jennifer???

It has something to do with the Duskwood Forest

Richy tugged on his hair, he knew EXACTLY what MC was talking about. And he was horrified, terrified, completely PETRIFIED.

You couldn't be talking about the girl that was found dead in the forest back then

Taking a deep breath, he reread the text he sent, honestly it sounded pretty calm, he hoped MC wouldn't be able to see through it.

To be honest I don't know yet

Okay, so MC didn't know everything about the circumstances involving Jennifer. This wasn't so bad after all, maybe....

I totally forgot about that. The whole town of Duskwood was up in arms at that time, as I am sure you can imagine.

He shook his head as if it would rid the awful memories from his consciousness, the guilt, the pain, it was inescapable.

What else can you think of?

As far as I know the killer was never found. They soon came to the conclusion that he wasn't from here and it didn't take long until Duskwood returned back to a state of normalcy.

Killer. He wasn't a killer, and neither was Hannah or......Amy. He hesitated as his inner demons waged war inside him, was he a killer though? Did he ultimately kill Amy by bringing her to the brink of suicide? He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the thought to release him from its torment.

Was there anything that indicated where the killer was from?

No, there was nothing. The three teenagers had buried the only form of evidence, the body. Richy had stolen the paper on the AMC Gremlin all those years ago, made it disappear. There was Nothing.

Well, I guess I don't know that much about the old case after all

What a piece of bull crap. He knew everything about Jennifer's death, as much as he wished he didn't. He wasn't innocent, the invisible blood on his hands still tormented him. Jennifer was dead.

But you know how people are. There are nicer things to think about than the thought of living next door to a murderer. And Jennifer wasn't from Duskwood either. So this makes the theory even more plausible.

Richy paused, the beginning question once again entering his mind. Why was she asking about the incident? About Jennifer?

But you don't think that Hannah has something to do with what happened back then, do you?

Unfortunately I do

He swallowed hard, if MC made the connection between Hannah and Jennifer, she would ultimately discover Amy's involvement, which would place him closer and closer to the burning flames.

Well I hope not.

"I wish not, I wish she didn't. I wish none of us did." He whispered underneath his breath, fist suddenly colliding with his desk. He didn't ask for this, why was this happening to him?

That happened at least ten years ago. Mmh, I think that's it. I don't know anything else.

I don't know anything else, that was one of the most bogus statements he had ever made in his whole life. He knew a lot about the incident, he knew too much. He wished it could have been different.

That was actually more information than I expected.

Chewing on his bottom lip, his eyebrows furrowed. Wait a minute.

Talk to you later.

Hold on real quick, why did you ask me that?

Was MC asking him this because she already suspected him? Or was she asking him this because of her subtle but at the same time obvious growing feelings for the mechanic?

Because I have a hunch that it might be getting me closer to Hannah

A small chuckle managed to escape his lips, was she messing with him? Or did she really not understand what he was getting at?

No, no, that's not what I meant. Why ME?

I like you

Richy's heart skipped a beat, she had finally said it. His mind raced, it was both a dream come true and a nightmare at the same time, what an oxymoron. MC had fallen for the culprit, for the man behind the mask. And he had messed up, by falling for her as well. Damn it.

I like you too, MC. A lot. Adios

He quickly logged off, needing time to think and reorganize his thoughts. The plan had to work, it was GOING to work, and then he would shoot his shot with MC, it would all work out.

#richy x mc #duskwood richy #richy duskwood #duskwood richy x mc #richy rogers #duskwood #everbyte studios #everbyte duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood fandom #duskwood community #duskwood game #everbyte game #duskwood imagine #duskwood drabble #duskwood oneshot #mysteriouslover1615replayprogress

[ladymelisande]

(Excerpt from a Human AU I have not time to write. So warnings for: child abuse, mentioned suicide, homophobia).

He froze in the stairs at the second he saw that familiar silhouette. White hair that had been once blond servely pulled back, sober grey and white skirt and dress shirt. Nothing of that had changed, after more than twenty years, none of that seemed to change.

She turned around and her eyes were the same even if the face was much older. The same smile – fake, so fake, so full of a sick idea of kindness – instantly plastered in her face.

“Anthony,” she said. “Oh, Anthony.”

“What are you doing here?” Crowley hissed, not stepping a single inch closer to her. “How the hell did you find me?”

“I— I came with a friend. Mr. Fell's father, they are talking now in the coffee shop.”

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“Mr. Fell. Sr told me about his son's friend and I—” she cut herself, liking her lips, her eyes shining with tears. “I looked for you everywhere, and when he described the friend I thought I needed to come and see you—”

“You have seen me, now get the fuck out.”

His mother pressed her lips in a line and took a deep breath, but calm was not what she wanted for sure. He could see it. How bad was she at faking that could actually control her temper.

“Anthony—”

“Has old age affected your hearing? I said get out.”

“Can't we speak? I have come all the way—”

“No.”

“For God's sake, you are grown man, you can't just—”

“Don't bring your fucking God to the conversation.”

“Anthony—”

“What can you even say to me? Have you joined a new fucking cult? Do I have any new siblings that you are torturing or do you a new husband to kill?”

She flinched and Crowley realised he had actually gone down the stairs in his rant. He stepped back from her before she could grasp his arm.

“Don't touch me.”

“You can't blame me for that, your father—”

“I will blame you for the things that are your and your fucking people's fault.”

“Anthony, I am no longer with them. So much have happened since you left. I have— I have changed.”

“I don't believe you, now get out.”

“I'm your mother—”

“Get out!”

“Crowley?” Ezra's voice and the bell's sound made his head snap to the door. His angel stared at Crowley, then at his mother. “Oh, hello. Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all, Mr. Fell,” she said with her fake smile. “I'll just be going, I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about. Is your father still in the coffee shop?”

“Huh, yes, but who—”

“Excellent! I'll see myself out then.”

Crowley's eyes followed her until she left the shop and his body seemed to give up. He leaned leaned against the wall for a moment, turning away from his friend as he took a breath, desperate to drown the panic rising on his chest.

Fuck, what was she doing here? And she had come with Ezra's father? What the fuck where the two of them together doing here?

This was going so wrong all sudden, but she couldn't hurt him anymore. He reminded himself that. He was no longer a boy cowering at her belt and screams. He was an adult with independent will that have left the hell she had put him through, and he was going to—

“Angel,... Angel, I need to tell you something.”

“Well, me too, dear. I have the most wonderful news!”

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to vanish his mother's face from his mind. “I'll rather talk first, because if I don't then I'll never start talking—”

“Wait, what's that expression? Hold that thought!” Ezra said and Crowley took a shuddering breath, closing his mouth. “Well, I— Oh, my father has come back from his missionary work and he and I have been talking...”

The same father that had kicked him out when he came out to him? Crowley blinked incredulously at his friend.

“... and well, he and my sister have been working in York to open a home for people that... have been lost. It was something Mum wished to do before she— Anyway, he has asked me to come back with them... To help, the patronage has changed so much, Crowley, and so many of them are boys and girls or neither... Like me, like you and my family,... They are helping them. He says he regrets how he handled things with me and Gabriel and— Well, he has asked me to come back. I'll be able to take an administrative role for the foundation. And he said... he said you can come too. We'll— You'll have a house there too and you... You wouldn't be struggling so much as you're now with the flower shop.”

Crowley blinked at him. Once. Twice. Trying to process the words. “Right,” he said, “and you told him where he could stick it, then?”

Ezra's bright smile wavered. “Not at all.”

“Oh, we are better than that, angel. You are better than that!” Crowley shouted and started to pace. “Whatever nice-church talk he gave you is a lie. That woman that just left it's my mother, Ezra. Nothing good can come from their supposed changes if someone like her is involved.”

“Well, of course you don't want to go back to what you were before, you were a delinquent,” his friend said and Crowley felt as he had been slapped. “But she... has changed. You both have. My father... he says she went to them looking for redemption. And if he has changed his opinion of me, Crowley. Then why can't s—”

“That woman beat me up my whole damn childhood and after,” Crowley growled. “Her and–and the shit she and her cult put my father through drove him to commit suicide. There is no absolution she will get from me, Ezra. Not now, not ever.”

“Well, maybe not from you but my father will get it from me! Crowley, he is dying, I can't leave him now. I can't let all this work crumble. This is my chance to make a difference!”

His friend was silent for a second, staring at him with bright eyes but somehow not listening. Crowley knew that look. He had already decided. It was too late, it was always to late.

“Oh, God,” he said and and sighed. “Oh, okay. I couldn't day what I was going to say so I better say it now. Okay. So...”

He sighed again and took a deep breath.

“We've known each other for a long time. We've been in this place for a long time. I mean, you and me. I could always rely on you, you can always rely on me. We're a team— A group. Group of the two of us. We've spent all this time pretending we aren't—” his voice cracked. “I mean, the last few years, not really. And I'll like to spend—” The knot in in his throat chocked the words and he groaned. “I mean, if your brother and Beez could do that. Go off together, get away, then we can!” he raised his voice, desperate. “Just the two us, Ezra. We don't need them, we don't need their churches or their forgiveness or their fake charity. They are toxic! We need to get away from them! You and me, what do you say?”

“Come with me!” Ezra said, stepping closer, the same smile ever present in his face. “To York, I'll get hand of the company, you'll be my second in command. We can make a difference. Think of everything you wanted to do—”

“You can't leave this bookshop,” Crowley whispered, tears burning his eyes on the effort to keep them from falling, but his friend, his best friend, the man he loved more than anything, kept that smile in his face.

“Oh, Crowley,” he said. “Nothing lasts forever.”

This infatuations of yours won't last, she had sneered once. They're just a whim because you are child that knows nothing. Those boys will learn to, soon or later. They'll learn what is good for them and what their duties to God are.

“No.” The word came out slow, like poison burning his throat. “No, I suppose it doesn't.” He swallowed the sob and put his glasses on. He wouldn't break here, but he wouldn't continue with this, he couldn't.

He'd rather die than go back.

“Good luck.”

#good omens #human au #azicrow #sorry but I can't take 'Aziraphale Fell' seriously so I went Ezra for the angel