#So definitely long for a one-shot and gift exchange

[amtrak12]

I've got my Bering and Wells gift exchange fic fully outlined now 🥰 I'm sooooo excited to bring it to life.

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Nanami and his camera...

Note: not smut but suggestive... very domestic nanami

Masterlist Discord

Nanami never saw the point in the whole “sending nudes” thing. He found it cliché and stupid, a meaningless exchange that seemed to reduce romantic relationships to superficial transactions. He believed that there was so much more to a relationship than just sending naked photos to each other, Nanami valued the tangible, authentic moments that built a real bond between two people. And that was one of the reasons you were so drawn to him. 

He was respectful, kind, and hardworking–everything you could hope for in a man. Nanami embodied all the qualities of a perfect gentleman. And of course being in a committed relationship, it's natural to want to give your lover gifts. And so you did. One year into your relationship, you gift Nanami a camera. 

Saying he liked it was an understatement, he adored it. He started off with simple things, like taking pictures of the meals he cooked, photographs of the scenery in the backyard, especially when the stray cats came to sunbathe on his porch. However, out of all the various things he photographed, his favorite was undeniably you.

He had a way of capturing you in your most candid moments, revealing sides of you even you hadn’t seen before. Doesn’t matter if you were lost in thought reading a book by the window, laughing uncontrollably at a joke he made with his dry humor, or gazing at the sunset after he took you out to dinner, Nanami found beauty in your every expression, every gesture. His eyes, through the lens, saw you as some kind of goddess. 

Even at night, when you were all ready for bed and fast asleep, Nanami liked capturing you in those tranquil moments. Something about how peaceful you looked as you slept brought him a sense of serenity. The way your chest rises and falls softly as you breathe, the way your hair generously fanned out across the pillow, and the way the thin sheets dipped into the natural curves of your body. All these small details captivated him.

It took him a while for him to build his confidence to take those pictures while you were awake. He just couldn’t help it the day you wore that sheer nightdress to bed that one night. His jaw drops in awe as you slide into the sheets with him, his eyes not once flattering off your body. 

“What’s wrong Kento…” you ask, making yourself comfortable in bed as you notice the way he seems lost in thought. 

Kento clears his throat, snapping back to reality, picking his jaw back up as if he just realized he’d been staring for too long. "You look lovely," he says, his voice a little unsteady. "Is that a new dress?"

You smile at him and nod. You did in fact just purchase the dress, feeling the soft fabric against your warm skin. You had hoped it would catch his attention. And it definitely was working, noticing the soft red blush creeping up on his cheeks. 

You watch his eyes take in every detail of the dress. The intricate lace pattern running up the dress, the way the fabric hugs your figure just right, and the softness of it that he could only dream of touching. The way that man looked at you always made you feel special, as if you’re the only person in the world at that moment.

“May I take a picture of you?” He croaks out, his voice carrying a mix of admiration and shyness. 

“Of course,” you reply, a playful twinkle in your eyes that he catches. “But get my good side,” you tease him. 

He laughs, a soft genuine smile spreading across his face. He slowly picked up the camera from his nightstand. Lifting it to his face as you patiently waited for him to snap the shot. He looks through the viewfinder, admiring your beautiful face, taking in every small detail of your face that makes you, you.  His eyes continue trail down, lingering on the lacy neckline of the dress, adoring the way it gracefully hugs your shoulders and falls effortlessly along your frame. 

He finally presses the button to snap the picture. The sound of the shutter clicking sends a rush through his body. He looks down at the picture he had taken. It was breathtaking. You were stunning beyond belief in his eyes. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, almost to himself, as he lowers the camera back down. His eyes come back to meet yours and you could almost swear your heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. His hands finally resting on your body, feeling the soft fabric against it.

[p0orbaby]

Leah/YN double date with Beth/Viv x

-

You’re ten minutes into the double date and already considering chewing the coaster.

The bar is trying very hard. It smells like burnt thyme and ambition. The menus are printed on recycled paper and balanced on small pieces of slate. The waiter has a moustache you’d describe as “historical” and says the phrase “taste journey” without flinching.

Across from you, Beth Mead is holding court.

She’s halfway through a story that definitely started out about an Uber driver and has now detoured into something involving a dog, two bottles of rosé, and a broken patio chair.

Vivianne is sipping her drink like it’s a performance review. Neutral. Withheld. Judging the ice cubes.

Leah is beside you, legs angled toward yours like she’s physically magnetised. Her hand’s on your knee under the table, thumb tracing absent little circles like she’s reading Braille you didn’t know you had.

“Anyway,” Beth says, waving a prawn toast triangle like a wand, “the dog was fine, but I couldn’t use that pair of shoes ever again. Like, emotionally.”

Viv sighs without looking up. “You’ve told this story three times this month.”

“Because it’s good. It’s educational. Teaches people not to trust Labradoodles.”

“She tells it on nights out,” Leah adds, stage-whispering to you. “Every time she’s had more than two drinks and no one’s actively monitoring her.”

“I am a gift,” Beth says, shoving the rest of the toast into her mouth.

You glance down at your cocktail, which came in a vintage teacup and tastes like anxiety and basil.

Leah catches your expression, leans in. “Too herby?”

“It’s like drinking the garnish section of a garden centre.”

She grins, all teeth and low affection. “Want to swap? Mine’s violently fruity.”

You trade. She was right. It’s like a Capri-Sun went through puberty.

Viv watches the exchange with the vague air of someone who has already texted get me out to three separate people.

“So,” she says, cutting neatly through the chaos, “how long have you two been dating now?”

You blink. Leah answers before you can.

“Four months. Technically. But we were seeing each other for a bit before that.”

Beth raises an eyebrow. “Seeing each other like ‘seeing each other at training’ or seeing each other like when Leah was showing up to media day with glitter on her collarbone?”

Leah doesn’t even flinch. “Seeing each other like I memorised her coffee order before I had her number.”

You freeze.

“You did what?”

She shrugs. “It wasn’t creepy. It was observant. And romantic. And a little creepy.”

Beth fake-retches into her cocktail. Viv looks vaguely impressed.

Leah’s hand squeezes your knee. You lean into her shoulder slightly, just to feel her laugh vibrate through it.

The night goes on. More drinks. More stories. Beth tries to convince the table to do a group holiday (“Viv, stop looking at me like that, I’m serious”). Someone orders fries and forgets about them. The waiter returns with a shot on fire. You’re not entirely sure who ordered it. It ends up in Beth’s hands.

By the end of the evening, you’ve stopped noticing the weird smell from the bar candles or the aggressively curated playlist. Leah’s still close. Still steady. Still making you feel like it’s all just one long inside joke you’re lucky to be in on.

You leave with your hands full—of her, of warmth, of half-finished anecdotes and something approaching joy.

Outside, Beth’s yelling about karaoke. Viv is already unlocking the car.

You don’t say it, but you think it:

You could do this forever.

And you wouldn’t even need the fries.

[unstable-samurai]

Breathing This Calm Night - smut

Yunjin x Male Reader

ONE-SHOT

Tags: fluff, oral sex, one-shot, tightjob, penetration, k-idol, famous girl, secret relationship

A/n: This is my first request. Thanks @dav1233555 for the plot suggestion 🫡

The two of you were anxiously dragging yourself towards the end of the day. Slowly the hours passed, seeming to last longer than they should, while a hurried and hard routine was followed, with no time to even exchange a few messages.

But you were finally free, at least for now, from the mess that is a magazine of international relevance.

I'm arriving

You read the message and smiled at the phone screen. It wasn't crowded at the restaurant you chose to have dinner at. You reflected for a moment, and thought there was a bit of madness in what you two were doing, but it was indisputable that it was genuine and pure.

Truth be told, this whole thing was real. And thinking that this could be a bit crazy (in other people's eyes, to be more precise) only made your panoramic view of society more bitter.

After all, what was so great about being a foreigner and dating a K-idol? Well, you weren't the guy who was going to change the view of an entire society, so worrying about it was useless.

At least there was some security that this relationship would not be leaked to the media. Well, you were in fact part of the fucking media. There was support from the magazine you worked for (not that you were the owner or anything), and at least no one on your team would poke your eye out. Some other editors you trust already knew about your relationship. It was one of the countless advantages of being in a high position in the company and having a strong influence on what happened inside. I mean, someone from the magazine could try to fuck with you, snakes exist everywhere, doing this in an attempt to self-promote or even abandon ship, handing over the leak of your relationship to another magazine or tabloid (in the headline the motherfuckers would find a way to use the word "affair", just because your previous relationship ended a month before you met Yunjin). But you would discover the funny guy so easily that there wouldn't even be any fun in solving the mystery. All it took was a single call to your father, simply the greatest editor-in-chief who worked at the magazine's headquarters. Already retired, but still exercising great decision-making power thanks to his long years of contributions to the magazine. Your old man was seen almost as a royal advisor or a wise monk where directors, managers and editors from various sectors of the magazine went to ask for advice and help. You were relatively shielded from leaks.

You noticed her approaching. Well disguised, with glasses, hair tied back and comfortable clothes. She looked like just another ordinary girl. You couldn't help but notice the NY Knicks sweatshirt you had given her as a gift, it was both of your favorite team.

She greeted you with a discreet hug. You still hadn't gotten used to the fact that you couldn't give a peck in public que in South Korea. In your perception, it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Hi, baby! How are you?" she asked you as she sat down at the table.

"Better now, honey. What about you?"

"The same!"

"Was the day as hard as always?" you asked.

"Yeah, definitely!" she replied. Yunjin seemed eager for this question. She continued: “In the morning I had rap class. By the way, I think I'm getting better. Oh, and in the afternoon I recorded my lines, like, over and over again. The music producer has a very specific vision of what he wants for this track. He apologized and admitted that it might take some time to achieve the desired result.”

"Well, I trust your talent. Remember that you and your group are dealing with a delicate concept. I have seen up close the production of albums that address intimate themes, it is always a challenge, but also a true work and certainly a amazing gift for the fans. You girls are going to do great."

Yunjin laughed, a little shyly.

"It feels like I'm talking to a music critic instead of my boyfriend."

"Well, you're actually talking to a music critic. Oh, by the way, I remembered that I won't be writing the article about Le Sserafim's new album like I said before."

Her expression was one of surprise. Yunjin asked:

"Is it because of me?”

"Yes." you answered honestly. “Well, look, love, I'm prioritizing our relationship and thinking about the future. If this is for real, eventually the press will hear about us together, and a review from me about my girlfriend's music group obviously it would make my opinion seem partial and biased. It's just to avoid future problems."

"Okay" She looked upset. "But I'll still want to know your opinion when you hear the album."

"I'm really looking forward to hearing it." You smiled, making her feel better. "I left the review about the new album for a good friend of mine to write. I really respect her opinion."

"Well, i think we're in good hands. But let's stop talking about work for a bit!"

The waiter seemed to have heard Yunjin's speech as he appeared to save them right after she finished saying that. Yunjin had great taste in food, that's why she always chose the order for the two of you, you weren't the "culinary trailblazer" type; a few months in South Korea and you only knew five typical dishes (always returning to the arms of the big fast-food chains).

"Oh, I almost forgot to give you this!" You handed her a gift. "It had been on my lap for so long that I had forgotten I had brought it with me."

"Oh, baby! You didn't have to do that!"

She started to unwrap it.

"Hope you like."

You waited for her reaction. Yunjin smiled and made a cute little noise when she saw that it was a book (although she already knew from the shape of the gift wrap).

"You know I love reading! Thank you so much."

"It's The Alchemist. I know you love fantasy and this silly self-help thing. This book is a mix of both."

You saw her eyes light up.

"You're perfect. I love how well you know me. And self-help isn't silly, it's very good for evolving as a human being." she scolded you.

You shrugged.

"It's not the kind of thing I'd like to put on my bookshelf. But to each their own.”

She laughed.

"I'm still going to make you read one of these."

"Well, I've already read The Alchemist. If for me it's average, for you it will be a masterpiece."

★

It was around 10pm when the two of you finally arrived at your apartment. Dinner was very good, especially dessert (that bingsu thing was really delicious), and by that night there was no more energy for more fun, it was preferable to have a good night's sleep so that the next day you could do something together. Even so, Yunjin hummed excitedly in the car on the way home. You appreciated all that joy.

You took off your shoes while Yunjin took off her NY Knicks sweatshirt, leaving only a tight tank top on her body. You noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra by the way her breasts showed through the fabric of her tank top. You slowly approached her and grabbed her from behind, kissing her repeatedly. Yunjin wrapped her hands around your neck as she giggled at the series of kisses.

“Will you be my teddy bear tonight?” she asked sweetly. “I need your affection so much, baby.”

“Whatever you need, sweetie.” You said as you kissed her on the neck.

Things were heating up. Your hands slid down Yunjin's soft belly, heavy sighs escaped her mouth unconsciously.

“Look, we still need to shower.” she said.

"No problem." you answered.

“You're putting me in the mood. I'm warning you that if you keep touching me like this, you're going to have to go all the way to finish what you started.”

“And since when has this been a problem for me?” you asked as you led her to the couch.

You took off your shirt and belt from your pants. Yunjin took off her jeans, leaving only her tank top and adorable pink panties. Your hand slid down Yunjin's left thigh while you kissed her right thigh. That was more than enough to give her goosebumps. She had her legs wide open, waiting, almost begging, for you to touch that place. Instead of doing it right away, you decided to play with her a little, kissing and biting her inner thigh while using one of your hands to lightly massage her pussy through her panties. Your lips slid to Yunjin's crotch, where you licked the entire area, she reveled in the act, trying hard not to close her legs with the spasms she was having. It didn't take long for a wet stain to darken the pink of the panties. When you finally removed Yunjin's panties, you saw how wet she was. So horny that she couldn't wait for you, fingering her pussy slowly, opening it with her fingers so you could see how drooling she was; a successful action of provoking you. Then you realized how hard your cock was, pulsing in your pants, painfully tight, which made you hornier.

Without wasting any more time, you dived between Yunjin's legs, eager to taste her (that flavor that was becoming increasingly familiar and addictive… Part of your life. Yeah, we could put it that way), your tongue delighting in the taste and the cozy warmth of the inside of her pussy, while Yunjin moaned softly, digging her nails into the sofa cushions.

“I love it when you suck me like that, baby. You make me feel so good!” she moaned.

At one point she asked to stop because her lust was unbearable and that way he would have an orgasm in a short time.

“I want to feel your cock inside me now.” she said. You had just taken off your underwear when she added, “Wait, what if we fuck in the bathroom. Let’s save time, what do you think?”

Your response was to lift her off the couch and take her to the bathroom. You turned on the light with your elbow and, before you could think of anything, she said:

“Fuck me like this! Your cock goes deep into my pussy when you fuck me in the air.”

You kissed her intensely while you tried to fit your dick into her pussy. The feeling of your cock sliding inside Yunjin was wonderful. Upon realizing that your cock was well placed inside her, you grabbed Yunjin's thighs tightly and began to thrust into her energetically while she held onto you, moaning compulsively.

And Yunjin was right, your dick went deep in that position. You could feel her deep inside, the entire length of your cock was being used, and she loved it. When she announced her orgasm, you wanted to make sure it was intense and pleasurable, the way it made her roll her eyes, so you lifted her a little higher, grabbing her ass, while Yunjin wrapped her legs inside your arms, making her practically hang from you and her pussy is completely inside your dick.

“Oh God, Baby! I’m cumming!”

She trembled holding onto you, while you practically rubbed her pussy on your dick, always rotating it close to your body. It was just a shame that you couldn't enjoy her eyes rolling back at the moment of orgasm, you simply loved seeing her go crazy with pleasure, but there was also a certain contentment in just knowing that it happened.

You sat Yunjin down on the sink and there you started fucking her again, looking deeply into her eyes. At one point she looked at you with so much passion, so much desire that there was a sudden growing desire to fill her pussy with your load of cum.

“Hang me, love.” she asked affectionately.

Her hand wrapped around just over half of her neck, serving as support to fuck her even harder. Sweat running down both bodies, your gaze was lost between the mirror's reflection, her eyes, her tits and her expressions of pleasure. With the sensations highlighted, you realized how much you loved Yunjin and how much this feeling contributed to eminent pleasure during sex.

Holy shit! You were almost there.

You thought about how much you wanted to go deep into this, literally to the end, but you were without a condom and suddenly stopping the act to go get a condom at the end of the championship was a bit... discouraging.

But you have an idea.

“Stand up, sweetie” you said. “Let’s try something new.”

Yunjin got out of the sink, looking at you excitedly.

“Get in the shower stall with me.” you asked, opening the door.

"What do you want to do?"

“It’s nothing out of this world, but it occurred to me that you’ve never given me a tightjob, I think it’s time we tried it.”

She had some assumptions about what this position was, but you helped her anyway. Yunjin was a rather tall girl, so there were no problems for your dick to fit between her thighs, the result was perfect, nothing uncomfortable. You thought about turning on the shower to lube up a little, but her pussy was so wet and the continuous sweat running down between her thighs was already more than great. You grabbed Yunjin's waist tightly and she crossed her legs a little, squeezing your dick.

You began to thrust into her, your cock sliding back and forth as you dragged Yunjin's labia. So you discovered in the best way that this was very pleasurable for both of you. The internal heat started inside you again and gradually you lost yourself in that exciting sensation. As you approached the final explosion, you bestially grabbed Yunjin in every way possible, sliding your sweat-damp hands down her belly, squeezing her breasts and slapping her ass. You lost yourself in the voluptuousness that was Yunjin's body and- Fuck! She loved it. She loved being your instrument of pleasure, knowing that the person she loved so much reached maddening peaks of passion, desire and lust for her. A juice of feelings for an insatiable thirst.

“Oh baby! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-”

Without any warning, Yunjin began to move her hips in a rhythm that immediately took you to the precipice of pleasure. The soft, hot, wet, suffocating skin of her thighs dancing over your cock. This was too much for you. When you came, you hugged Yunjin tightly, holding her as if your life depended on it, giving in to inconstant and uncontrollable moans close to her ear. The frantic thrusts lost their rhythm, going deeper and slower through Yunjin's thighs. She held your arms affectionately, waiting for your breathing to become less labored before kissing you.

"I love you." You said to her.

The phrase was so loaded with something that covered your feelings at that moment, and you wished she was the woman of your life and would never leave your side.

"I love you too!" said Yunjin when she found a way out of your tongue. “Baby, you don’t know how much.”

“This took longer than expected. Let’s take our shower.”

“Yep! Let's go."

You turned on the shower. The hot running water was invigorating, even more so being next to Yunjin, you didn't know that sharing certain intimacies was so special until you finally did it with her. you soaped Yunjin's entire body, she helped you wash your back and you shampooed her hair, gently massaging her scalp; it was cute how it relaxed her, she seemed so surrendered to you in that moment, and just a few months ago you were sitting across from her and the other Le Sserafim girls, asking incisive questions about the creative process of their latest album. That's where it all started, after all. And who could say where it would end?

“Hey, baby, let me shampoo your hair now.” Yunjin said with a cutie smile.

Nobody, you thought. Nobody could say.

A/n: sorry for any grammatical errors 😅

[minswriting]

i have a winter themed one shot in the works for aaron but for now take this christmas themed spencer blurb >:)

nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader | fingering (f), semi-public sex

the bureau was hosting an annual christmas party and it was finally the one year that the BAU was able to attend without being on a case. so the team was there, all dressed up. you were dressed beautifully, wearing a burgundy dress that hugged your curves but was still flowing right above your knees with a pair of black heels, definitely different than your normal work attire.

the night went on nicely. you had spoken to emily, jj, and penelope. you exchanged gifts with aaron as he was your secret santa. you spoke with rossi and derek for a little while. and spencer? well, he had snuck you to the men’s bathroom, into a stall, pushing you against the wall with his fingers buried inside of your cunt.

“been thinking about you all night,” he whispered breathlessly in your ear, working you with his fingers. your panties were pushed to the side with your dress ridden up as his fingers thrusted in and out of you.

you let out a quiet moan, looking at spencer as he fingered you. “wore this just for you,” you whispered back, leaning in to press a kiss onto his jaw.

“y-you look ravishing,” he replied, curling his fingers inside of you.

you gasped, bringing your hand to your mouth to cover the noises that tried to escape. if it were a random bar, you hardly would’ve cared. but this was your place of work even if you were off duty. god forbid someone were to walk in here and catch you two.

spencer moved his digits fast and hard, not caring about the squelching sounds that filled the bathroom as he fingered you. “god, you’re so wet,” he said hotly, leaning down to kiss your neck. his fingers continued hitting that sweet spot inside of you as you felt the heat building in your abdomen.

“getting so close, spence,” you whispered whined, eyes fluttering shut as you threw your head back.

“come for me, pretty girl,” he whispered, pressing kisses along your neck. “you’re doing so good.”

it didn’t take long until your thighs clamped around spencer’s hand while your back arched, your body shaking as you came around his fingers. “o-mm!” you couldn’t help but moan, the sound muffled by your hand.

and when you came down from your high, spencer pulled his fingers out before kissing you on your lips softly. “merry christmas, my love,” he murmured against your lips. “i’m going to fuck you so hard later.”

“merry christmas, spence,” you said breathlessly. “i look forward to it.”

and when you both eventually left the bathroom together, you both seemed to slip out without getting caught, luckily enough. except perhaps rossi had noticed you both leaving the bathroom together and that your lipstick was ever so slightly smudged.

regardless, it was a christmas well spent.

[pandapetals]

Merry Christmas

It's Christmas Day! You and Logan exchange gifts.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, holiday vibes, logan being a softie

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

a/n: It’s the last one shot and i am sad. It’s been so much fun writing for christmas. I hope everyone gets logan under their tree this year.

divider credit: @saradika

The mansion was silent, wrapped in a thick blanket of snow from the night’s storm, the world outside hushed and peaceful. You woke to the sound of Logan’s soft snoring beside you, his hand resting protectively on your hip, even in sleep. Smiling to yourself, you carefully slipped out of bed, pulling on your robe as you padded downstairs to put the finishing touches on his gifts.

You’d thought long and hard about what to get him, wanting each gift to be something meaningful. A leather tool roll, perfectly sized for his motorbike tools, so he’d always have something useful on hand. A bottle of his favorite whiskey, because you knew he’d never buy the fancy stuff for himself. And your personal favorite—a beautifully framed vintage map of the Canadian wilderness, detailing the rugged terrain of the land he loved so much. But the most important gift, the one that had taken you months to finish, was a small wooden box filled with letters, each one tied neatly with twine.

Each letter was for a different moment, a different feeling. One for when he felt alone, one for when he felt angry, one for when he doubted himself. Every letter was written to remind him how deeply he was loved, how much he mattered. You’d poured your heart into every word, hoping that he’d feel the weight of your love whenever he needed it most.

By the time you’d finished arranging everything under the tree, you heard the soft creak of the stairs and turned to see Logan coming down, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, hair even more wild than usual. He was wearing his old flannel shirt over sweatpants, looking gruff but endearingly soft, as if he hadn’t quite woken up.

"Mornin', darlin’," he mumbled, his voice rough, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips as he saw you waiting by the tree.

"Merry Christmas, Logan," you whispered, stepping forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth as snowflakes drifted softly outside the window.

Reluctantly, you pulled back and gestured to the pile of gifts. "C’mon, let’s open these."

Logan chuckled, eyeing the gifts with a raised brow. "You went all out, huh? I didn’t know we were doin’ this whole… gift thing."

You laughed, nudging him down onto the couch and settling beside him. "Just open yours. I think you’ll like them."

He started with the tool roll, his rough hands carefully unwrapping the leather. He ran his fingers over it, a faint smile playing on his lips. "This… this is real nice," he muttered, a little shy. "I’ll definitely use it."

Next, he picked up the whiskey, letting out a low whistle as he looked at the label. "You got me the good stuff, huh? You spoil me," he said with a smirk, though there was a flicker of genuine appreciation in his eyes. But when he unwrapped the framed vintage map, he went completely silent, his fingers brushing over the contours of the familiar landscape.

"I figured… you could hang it in your office, or keep it somewhere special," you murmured, watching his face closely.

Logan swallowed, his gaze lingering on the map as if he were lost in the memories of those wild places. "This is… perfect," he whispered, his voice rough. "Thank you."

There was one gift left, and you hesitated for a moment before handing him the small wooden box. His brows knit together as he looked down at it, curiosity and something else—a softer emotion—flickering across his face. He lifted the lid and saw the bundle of letters, each one tied with care, each one addressed to a moment he might need a reminder of your love.

"For when you’re feeling… well, you know," you said softly, your fingers nervously fidgeting as you watched his reaction. "Each one is for a different time. I just… wanted you to know that I’m always here, even if I’m not right next to you."

Logan took a shaky breath, his gaze fixed on the box of letters. His jaw clenched as he fought to keep his expression steady, but you saw the glint of tears in his eyes. He lifted one of the letters, his fingers trembling slightly as he ran his thumb over your handwriting, the careful loops and lines you’d written with so much love.

"No one’s… no one’s ever done somethin’ like this for me," he said, his voice cracking. "I don’t… I don’t deserve this, or you." His voice was barely more than a whisper now, vulnerability laid bare in a way he rarely allowed.

You reached up, cradling his face with your hands, gently brushing a thumb over his cheek. "Logan… you’re wrong. You deserve so much more than you think." You smiled, the love in your eyes soft and steady. "You’re the best gift I could ever ask for. Just you… exactly as you are."

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if grounding himself in the warmth of your hands. Without another word, he pulled you into his arms, his embrace tight, almost desperate, like he was afraid to let go.

When he finally pulled back, his hand slid behind your neck, pulling you in for a kiss filled with every unspoken word he couldn’t quite say. His forehead rested against yours as he whispered, "I love you, sweetheart."

You smiled against his lips, pressing one last kiss to his mouth. "I love you, more. Merry Christmas, Logan."

After a long moment, Logan reluctantly pulled back, his gaze soft but intent as he reached for a small, neatly wrapped package on the coffee table. He handed it to you, looking almost… shy.

“Go on,” he murmured, clearing his throat and looking away, trying to cover up the faint blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… not much, but I thought you might like it.”

Curious, you tore off the wrapping paper, revealing a leather-bound book with intricate gold detailing on the cover. You sucked in a breath, your eyes widening as you ran your fingers over the title embossed in gold.

Pride and Prejudice. Not just any copy—this was a rare first edition.

“Logan…” you breathed, your voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “How… how did you even find this?”

He shrugged, trying to play it off, but you could see the glint of pride in his eyes. “Got my ways,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “Figured it’d mean somethin’ to you.”

Carefully, almost reverently, you opened the book, feeling the delicate weight of the pages between your fingers. But as you turned to the first few pages, something fluttered out—a piece of paper, folded neatly and tucked between them.

You glanced up at him, eyebrow raised. He shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his hands. “I, uh… slipped a little somethin’ in there,” he admitted, his voice barely above a grumble. “Wrote it myself. Might be rough around the edges, but… well, it’s for you.”

With trembling hands, you unfolded the paper, your heart racing as you read the words written in his unmistakable handwriting. It was a short poem, raw and unpolished, each line laced with sincerity.

Didn’t think I’d find somethin' that felt like home,

in the rasp of your laughter, in all the things left unsaid,

in the quiet that ain’t lonely ‘cause you’re in it.

Darlin’—you’re the reason I keep holdin’ on,

the reason a scarred heart like me starts thinkin'

he might be worth somethin' after all.

The words weren’t flowery or grand, but they were him—every line filled with honesty, with a depth he rarely shared. Your vision blurred as you read it again, the weight of his words sinking in.

“Logan…” you whispered, looking up at him, eyes glistening with tears. “This is… it’s beautiful.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking both relieved and embarrassed. “Didn’t think I’d hear that word used on anythin’ I wrote,” he muttered, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Figured you’d laugh it off.”

“Are you kidding?” you said, reaching over to take his hand, squeezing it tight. “It’s perfect. It’s you, and that means more to me than anything else in the world.”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze holding yours. After a long, lingering silence, Logan reached behind the couch and pulled out one last gift, this one wrapped in old newspaper and tied with a bit of string. He handed it to you, his eyes a bit softer. 

“This one’s… well, it’s somethin’ I worked on myself,” he said, almost bashful. “Thought it might help you with… y’know, all that writin’ you do.”

Intrigued, you carefully unwrapped it, and as soon as you saw the vintage typewriter nestled inside, your breath hitched. The old keys gleamed, meticulously polished, and there was a faint scent of oil and leather from where he’d restored it with his own hands. Every piece, every detail, looked lovingly cared for.

“Oh my god, Logan…” you whispered, running your fingers over the smooth metal, feeling the weight of each key under your touch. “You… you did this yourself?”

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah. It was in pretty rough shape when I found it, but I thought… well, I thought you might like workin’ on somethin’ like this. Somethin’ that’d make all those stories you’re dreamin’ up feel a little more real.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed. He wasn’t just giving you a typewriter—he was giving you the chance to chase your dreams, to bring your words to life in a way that was uniquely yours.

Without another word, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. “You… you have no idea how much this means to me,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

His arms tightened around you, and for a long, tender moment, he just held you, his cheek resting against your hair. When he finally pulled back, there was a glisten in his eyes he didn’t even try to hide.

“Guess I did somethin’ right, huh?” he murmured, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as his thumb brushed across your cheek.

“You did everything right,” you replied, your smile soft and unwavering. Leaning in, you kissed him—slow, deep, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude you had into it.

When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Couldn’t ask for a better one.”

You smiled, your hands still laced with his. "Here’s to all the Christmases to come," you whispered back.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

How would Bronya and Seele be like with a S/o who has the mannerisms of a knight? Chivalrous, honorable and more than willing to rear his blade for the people!

(Bro would definitely have fought the IPC members)

(Honkai: Star Rail) Bronya and Seele's S/O acting like a knight

FOR CHIVLARY! FOR ZE (anime) LADY!

Bronya's heart honestly skips a beat whenever she sees S/O interact with anyone, be it a fellow Silvermane Guard or an Underworld denizen.

No matter what, they always were courteous to those around them, and never hesitating to draw their blade to protect others.

Even if it went against orders, their sense of justice was strong, sometimes stronger than hers.

Though sometimes their chivalrous ideals went...a bit too far in some regards.

For starters, they absolutely refused to use any ranged weapons, deeming it "unknightly."

(Bronya) "S/O, the target is at least a hundred meters away. Plus it's a trotter, not human-"

(S/O) "Then I will wait for them to approach, Bronya!"

Making her sigh and level her own rifle, drawing the gaze of S/O, disappointment in their eyes.

(S/O) "How am I supposed to gift my beloved a trophy, a sign of my undying love?"

Bronya blushed, mostly out of second-hand embarrassment that they said that aloud.

Which would not have been as bad, were it not for the other Silvermane guards awkwardly staring at each other.

(Bronya) "...Was that supposed to be a joke?"

(S/O) "...Um...would you believe me if I said yes?"

Her unamused stare shot S/O down, turning her attention back to the target after a painful amount of quiet.

(Bronya) "I'm going to shoot it now."

(S/O) "Y-Yes, dear..."

As far as Seele was concerned, anyone employing that much amount of pretentiousness could shove it up their ass.

Whether they be a princess (her best friend), or some pompous ass (her lover).

Seele is there to contrast against S/O's prim and proper attitude.

At least when push came to shove, they were willing to throw down.

But as for getting their hands dirty?

(S/O) "Seele! You just kicked that man in their genitals!"

(Seele) "Psh, so? They were asking for it!"

(S/O) "Be that as it may, it's...unsporting!"

(Seele) "How in the hell have you been down here this long and not fought like this once?"

(S/O) "Hah! They'd be a fool to attack a Silvermane knight!"

Crossing her arms, she eyed S/O up and down and scoffed.

(Seele) "If anything, that might give people even more of a reason to jump you."

(S/O) "Then pray tell, Seele, what does that make you for having one as your significant other?"

(Seele) "Listen, can you just...not talk like that for a couple minutes at least?"

(S/O) "I talk how I am raised to, Seele. I certainly don't question your choice in phrasing!"

(Seele) "But you're judging how I fight-"

(S/O) "Oh for the love of-Next time just beat them with your weapon, not your tricks!"

(Seele) "So giving them a concussion is better, but hitting them in the nuts is out of bounds?"

This exchange went on for a while, while the perpetrator they were fighting crawled away in pain.

[fatcathappycat]

10 *more* Ace Attorney fics that made me >LOL<

Reading AA fanfics on Ao3 has been my 'go to' choice for self-care this past year. The following are works that literally made me either snort, giggle, cackle or laugh out loud (or at the very least, smile hard ;) ). As usual, these are in no particular order, because creating a sense of order in life is an illusion, and fics are to be enjoyed and celebrated, not ranked ;p

1. By the book by zombiekittiez for crayoncompanion

Rating: T Words: 2,038 Read time: 10 mins

BOOK CLUB + DRUNK MILES!!! What more could you ask for, really? I come back to this one repeatedly for a hit of dopamine (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

~≧◡≦~

2. Maybe In Time (you'll want to be mine) by YourAverageBystander

Rating: T Words: 25,571 Read time: 2 hours

This one is so much fun!!!! Fast and loose, very sweet and funny as heck. And a really decent case fic to boot! #pocket noodles #lotta hart is a good friend

~≧◡≦~

3. Samurai Swear by 3musketears

Rating: T Words: 4,725 Read time: 20 mins

Lol Maya! Really lovely and funny one shot of Miles and Maya bonding over Steel Samurai.

~≧◡≦~

4. The Concept of Desperation by hi_its_ellis

Rating: T Words: 15,223 Read time: 2 hours

“O ho ho,” she says, actually enunciating each syllable, and he knows he’s fucked. “Miles Gregory Edgeworth. I have been placed on this earth to make you suffer, and I will not relent until I have succeeded in my goal.”

Another gem from a Narumitsu Master, I bookmarked this one when I was only on chapter two and have no regrets.

~≧◡≦~

5. a lie like a litany, cold and reformed by fictitiousregrets

Rating: T Words: 15,223 Read time: 90 mins

Fake engagement fic! This is part 2 of FictitiousRegrets' excellent Narumitsu week 2020 series! Well written, really funny and very Sweet! <3

~≧◡≦~

6. A Little Gift From Me To You by SapphireWine

Rating: T Words: 4,725 Read time: 20 mins

I am such a huge fan of SapphireWine's work and this fic series illustrates why. Part one is just brilliant and so funny. Triggered genuine, literal LOLs. Peak Larry. Read part two of the Burn for You series for the sweet (and slightly salty in a good way) sexy times. #Larry is a very good friend indeed

Enjoy!

~≧◡≦~

~~ The rest are all Kantayra fics, because sweet, short, punny and absolutely hilarious is their specialty. I had a very hard time picking only 4 (which is why I've snuck in a couple more at the end ;p )~~

~≧◡≦~

7. Seduction, the Wright Way by Kantayra

Rating: T Words: 833 Read time: 7 mins

Miles Edgeworth is attracted to ridiculous (of course he is! He’s Phoenix Wrights’s partner ;) )

~≧◡≦~

8. Freudian Slip by Kantayra

Rating: T Words: 3,833 Read time: 15 mins

Oh ho ho!! One of the punniest fics I’ve come across in a long time. Featuring Sebastian (Eustace) and Kay <33

~≧◡≦~

9. Miles Edgeworth: Demon Husband by Kantayra

Rating: T Words: 1,495 Read time: 7 mins

One of my favourite pieces from this Narumitsu master. Phoenix has a back ache and husbandy banter ensues…

~≧◡≦~

10. Legal Terminology by Kantayra

Rating: M Words: 961 Read time: 8 mins

This super fun ficlet definitely redefined for me what ‘smexy nekkid pics’ are for me ;)

~≧◡≦~

BONUS Kantayra recs SO GOOD I NEED TO SHARE TWICE!

10.a Turnabout Psycho-Lock by Kantayra for cuethesun Rating: M Words: 5,787 Read time: 25 mins Magatama-based shenanigans !!!!

10.b An Exchange of Hearts by Kantayra Rating: M Words: 8,209 Read time: 35 mins Maya and Edgeworth write fan fic Tears!! TEARS! I can’t stop laughing!!!!

~≧◡≦~

And that's it for now! I really hope you enjoy these as much as I have! If you haven't seen part 1 of this series, you can find it here:

AA LOL fics Part 1

If you have a fav fic that made you laugh, please share in the comments <333

[mistydeyes]

lavender secrets and whispers

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: You'd laugh when your civilian friends would crush on your team. You've seen them at their worst, tear-gassed, sweaty and disgusting from days in the field, and beyond drunk from the pub. That's why when your female partner is revealed, the boys step up as your older brothers.

pairing: 141 x platonic! wlw! afab!Reader

warnings: SWEARING, mentions of homophobia

a/n: i love my 141 boys but women are just UGH CHEFS KISS

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

You tried to keep your personal life to yourself, not wanting to risk the dangers associated with revealing it as well as wanting to avoid the offers for a threesome

Eventually, your partner was revealed when you landed in a hospital back in the UK

It was just a minor gun shot to the thigh but of course it needed proper care to heal

Your partner joined you by your bedside, holding your hand and keeping you company

After your first day in the hospital, the 141 boys showed up to see how you were doing

“The rest of the mission went smooth- well hello there, miss” Price began to say, locking eyes with your partner. Only Price had known her existence, just in case something ever happened to you.

“I’ll leave you alone, it’s time for some tea anyways” your partner said and exited the room

“I didn’t know you had a sister” Kyle commented before you rolled your eyes and replied, “She’s my partner idiot”

Suddenly it all clicked, your disinterest in all of the offers for romance from young recruits and people from all over the world was because you were in a relationship

They felt stupid, realizing the flags they missed—what straight woman would get Sappho’s writings tattooed?

Suddenly you had an onslaught of questions from Soap and Gaz

“Where did you meet?” “Cambridge, she was on exchange from the states”

“How long have you been dating?” “Six years now”

“You gonna marry her?” “Eventually, definitely not now with my leg”

“How long have you uh—“ “It’s okay Gaz, I’ve liked women my whole life really, I’m not afraid to say it”

Finally Ghost asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?” “Well, some people get weird about it and making some inappropriate comments. You're my teammates but my personal life is, well, personal”

After what seemed like forever, your lovely significant other returned with a tray of drinks

“It’s not much but the local coffee shop was still open so I got you all something”

She handed them to each of the men, remembering how Price likes his coffee strong, Gaz enjoys floral teas, Soap takes it with bucket of sugar, and Ghost always orders earl grey

“Thank you, ma’am” they said and she smiled giving a quick, “welcome home, soldiers”

Eventually after some more friendly conversation, the men were ready to return into their own homes and bed—your so said goodbye and thanked them for generally keeping you safe

As they walked out, Ghost said, “She’s a good one, keep ‘em close Y/N”

During your free time, they always ask to see pictures of her

You’ve shown them a few of your favorites—the two of you at pride, her with your pet cat, and ones from the few dates you went on

Price confides in you as to what to get his fiancée at home, you gladly help him knowing the troubles of finding the perfect gift

Gaz points out every rainbow to you, you can’t help but laugh as you joke about rainbow capitalism that companies do every June

Once Soap asked if you ever had double dates with Laswell and her wife

“No Soap, I know we both love women but gay people aren’t friends with every single gay person”

You do have to tell them that you don’t wanna hear about their rendezvous, you like women but not the sex talk

When you go to bars, the boys make sure to protect you from anyone—knowing your partner would have their heads if something happened to you

One time, a man came up behind you and tried to hold your waist

Ghost whispered in his ear “get your fucking hands off of her” before punching his lights out

He quickly became your girlfriend’s favorite out of the squad

Just know they’ll clock anyone who makes a homophobic comment to you or outs you

Price made one of the recruit’s life a living hell when he heard him say, “Dumb bitch probably doesn’t like dick because she can’t handle it”

Let's just say everyone knows not to mess with you now

If you aren’t close with your family, Price is more than happy to walk you down the aisle and the boys will definitely be in attendance

Soap and Gaz = flower girls! No one questions when two strong military men are stoically throwing flowers down the aisle

It was a beautiful day and you have a picture on your mantle of you and your wife along with your boys surrounding you :)

[grits-galraisedinthesouth]

"I'm a brash American and if my name is going to be on something, I'm going to have my say."

The Working Actress: From Reitman's Spokesperson to a Jam Spread Scam. Meghan Markle is right about 1 thing, she will NEVER change. Same old, same old GRIFTING lifestyle brand where she acts out her entire life in phony stages.

She loathed the Reitman's brand to such a degree that as their "National Spokesperson" she pretended to be the creator of 4 Reitman's dresses while filming a behind the scenes fitting where she intentionally refused to utter the brand's name! Kind of like how she refuses to say her now husband's name, "HARRY." 🤔🧐

"I've Been INVOLVED in all of that..."

"Please fix my feet for me---I get slaughtered online for people picking apart my feet, sadly. There's a scar on my left foot & my right foot isn't the prettiest (long toe etc) if you can soften that so that it doesn't distract from the shot that would be amazing. Silly I know but trust me..."

Jam Spread Scam: A Bloody Mess

"Someone please look at Me! Me, myself & I"

If she weren't evil, one could almost feel sorry for Meghan Markle. Before she joined the British Royal Family she sought applause for creating toast, and after the BRF she needs strangers to purchase a non-organic fruit spread (for the toast) packaged inside of a "keepsake" perfume box.

Who pretends to cook on their back burners with the lids on the front burners?

Still zero REAL friends...

As Ever Offic^al & Meghan Markle's freakish attention to DETAILS.

"With her face across city billboards and on social media she would be famous amongst Canadians. But, as ever, that was not enough." p95

As I revisited her bullying behavior towards the Reitman's executives, production team, fashion experts, manicurist, etc it explains the reason(s) she tried to appear syrupy sweet to the Netflix production team(s): baking cupcakes, distributing gifts, serving up "manwiches." While her personal antifa squad is paid to write about how they've followed her since Suits, they don't care that Meghan Markle had a terrible reputation BEFORE the BRF.

"After ferocious exchanges a few script changes were made, only to be rejected by Meghan again. She bulldozed her way through & never said a nice word, no one stood up to her. As the argument reached a climax, Meghan cut the telephone line."

Her agent had demanded that only the designated few on the set were authorized to speak to her. That order had been passed among the 58 members of the Canadian production team.

"Rude & unpleasant"

Manicurist left in tears

"Always fed up"

"...sighing, huffing & rolling her eyes"

"She's here for the ego not the art"

Super sweet with hair & makeup then w/in 2 seconds super-disagreeable to the crew

Demanded a pair of expensive Aquazzura beige shoes & then walked away with them only to be seen again during her Suits promo on Build

Members of the team retaliated by speaking in French so she couldn't understand their convo

"That's the last time we'll work together"-Director

"It's nice to suffer with you..."-account executive to a cameraman

"she is definitely the meanest person I've ever met, just sayin' "-third director

"A bit of a bully filled with a narcissist entitlement complex that had everyone walk on eggshells. No demonstration of appreciation at all. Sarcastic, condescending, demeaning criticism."

"She's fake-sweet"

"She's off the rails"

Agent Lori Sale to Meghan Markle: "That kind of behavior will never happen again."

[starcraftt]

loved you from the start — johnny cade x ponyboy curtis.

or, four times that johnny and pony were in love + the one time they noticed

warnings, nothing extreme! mostly fluff :3 extreme apologies for any grammar or spelling mistakes.

word count : 3.4k

authors note, @not-actually-human ; hiya! here's your secret valentines gift! i hope you enjoy it—i definitely enjoyed writing it haha! <3 ND SO SORRY IT'S LATE SOBBING ( @outsiders-gift-exchanges )

links : quotev link / ao3 link / wattpad link

" it is almost impossible to watch a sunset and not dream .

"Jeez Soda, why do you gotta be like that?" Ponyboy asked, words drawled as he frowned at his older brother who was messing around with Steve. "Now Darry's gonna blame me!" He complained, gesturing to the broken glass as he groaned loudly.

"Awe, don't worry Pony, it'll be fiiine." Soda had dragged out the last word, making it seem even less fine than Pony had originally felt. As Pony pouted, arms crossed and bottom lip jutted out, Two-Bit walked by.

"C'mon horseman, pony up," Two joked, giggling at his own joke—even though it didn’t make sense—as he ruffled Pony's hair, the younger one batting his hand away before he could do any real damage. Most everyone glanced towards the door when they heard it open—Pony being too distracted by smoothing down his hair—, Dallas and Johnny stepped in.

"Droppin' off the kid," Dally spoke, saluting at everyone before heading back out too quick for anyone to try and get him to stay. As the door slammed closed, they all went back to what they were doing. Two-Bit sitting on the couch, nursing a hangover he hoped to be gone soon, Soda cleaning up the glass, hoping not to cut himself, Steve—who should probably be helping, wasn't, and Pony back to pouting now that his hair was fixed.

Johnny offered a weak wave to the youngest when he came to sit down on the chair across the table. Pony nodded as a greeting back, shifting in his seat with a sudden embarrassment of pouting.

He didn’t know Johnny very well. Despite there being a few months between their first meeting and now–it was hard to know someone when they didn’t talk much about themselves. And the older still seemed shy around the group. Soda always said that Johnny would open up soon enough though. And Soda was always right. On social topics, that is.

"Heya Johnnycake, how're ya doing?" Steve questioned as he came by, squeezing Johnny's shoulders.

Johnny mumbled out a fine, nodding his head as he glanced at Steve without moving his head, watching as the older finally gave up to Soda's pestering and went to help him with the glass.

"You doin' alright?" Pony added, focusing his attention on the male across from him. Another nod was the response he got. "You sure?" Pony pushed lightly, stretching across the table slightly to get closer to Johnny.

Johnny shifted his head up to let Pony see his full face. And then the older smiled. Just a small quirk of the lips, but a smile. "Yeah Pone," Johnny started. "Fine."

Pony nodded immediately and backed away, making sure not to stare at the other's face too long. He's sure he turned red, having never seen Johnny's actual smile before, but . . .

Man, was that cute.

"Heya Johnny, have you studied for the science test yet?"

And that's how Johnny Cade found himself crossing the street to the library, the younger male beside him, Ponyboy Curtis. He's pretty sure he mumbled something about not wanting to study, but he figures he should. Try, at least.

"What do we even study?" Johnny questioned, desperate enough to know the answer that he voiced his concern.

"Textbooks, other . . . science things," Pony shrugged.

Johnny nodded despite the answer he got, and the two continued in comfortable silence to the library. Soon enough, they were sitting at a table in a relatively empty room, and Johnny snatched the nearest science textbook Pony had brought over.

His head shot up when a sudden thump sounded, and he quickly found the source being Pony—who had dropped a pile of books on the table. "What's all that?" He asked, hand resting on the textbook already in front of him to save his page.

The younger shrugged again. "More textbooks," he offered vaguely, but Johnny merely nodded again, eyes darting back down to the book in front of him as he saw Pony go and start reading a book from of the corner of his eye.

Hours passed—was probably only an hour or so though—, and even though he was barely halfway through the textbook, Johnny pushed his chair away from the table to go and walk around the library. He usually liked the quietness it held, and he knew that Pony loved coming here. A win-win he guesses. He doesn't get much silence, and Pony needs someone to go with.

He stepped through the plethora of shelves that only really reached up to his neck, but he was short. Knew it from all the times people rested their arms on his shoulders. Hated how it made him seem even younger than he already looked. 

Black colored eyes drifted lazily across the books and he passed through a few shelves, focus landing on a familiar title. He crouched to get a closer look at the spine, reaching out to tug it towards him slightly—taking a peek at the cover before he slid it out between its place held by two other books. 

Great Expectations. They were reading this in class, weren't they? Johnny flipped through the pages, skimming what words he could catch. Tucking the book under his forearm—holding it with his hand—he headed back to Ponyboy.

Pony, too engrossed in his textbook—for reasons Johnny would never understand—didn't take notice of Johnny approaching, jumping slightly when the other tapped his shoulder. "What's up?"

"You feel like reading somethin' else?" Johnny said, offering up the book to Pony, placing it on the table and sliding it over with a single finger.

It took Pony a second, eyes flicking from the book to Johnny and back again, before he picked up the book. "We're reading this in class though," Pony said, flipping through the pages slowly.

"Yeah, I know. But I haven't been reading it so how about catchin' me up?" Johnny asked hopefully, what was an attempt at a persuading smile on his face.

Pony looked long and hard at Johnny one last time before he relented. "Okay," He agreed, sighing as he reached over and grabbed the nearest chair, pulling it towards himself and patting it.

Johnny quickly moved to sit down in the seat offered, watching as Pony flipped around in the book again. "Have you read anything?"

"Yeah—! Maybe the first couple of chapters or somethin',"  Johnny offered, thinking. "I think."

His last addition of words got a deadpanned look from Pony as the younger flipped to the start of the book, and started reading; caring less when Johnny leaned closer as if to read the words on his own.

A few minutes later Johnny settled himself a spot where his head lay on Pony's shoulder, listening intently to Ponyboy's voice. It was soft, perfect for reading things aloud. Smooth and barely struggled with the bigger words that Johnny's sure even Darry wouldn't know.Pony continued on, a mix of his voice, the pages turning, and the dull quietness of the library luring Johnny's eyes closed.

The book reminded him of those days after Mr. and Mrs. Curtis had died—don't ask him why. It was quite bright out, but there was a grayness to the world that Johnny'd never seen before. Like a shadow had been cast over everything, dulling its color and therefore its importance. The things that had been shining those days were Darry, Soda, and Ponyboy—even though they had the dullest color of all the days.

He just remembers trying to be there for the three, having not the slightest clue of what to do or how to help them. He just sat there. Let Pony cling to him as he sobbed his eyes out.

Johnny sighed, opening his eyes again, blinking. He straightened, looking out the window, finding some time had passed. He looked back over to his left, seeing Pony letting out a long breath, and rolling his shoulders back, casually flipping through the book.

"Sorry Pone, must've fallen asleep."

Pony shook his head, like a sign telling Johnny that it was fine. Johnny nodded his head along, and they were left in a blanket of silence. Johnny's gaze was cast downwards as he thought, and he lifted it to speak up; but he got beat by Ponyboy.

"We should head back—Darry's gonna have my ass for stayin' out longer," He said, glancing at Johnny. And the listener nodded once again, pressing his mouth closed, lips forming a straight line as he stood up, pushing his chair in.

It was only as they were walking out—after replacing all the textbooks and Pony deciding to take one home—that Johnny realized he didn't remember any of the studying he did. Deciding to not speak up about it, he shrugged it off. It was better, what the situation had turned out to be. More enjoyable. For sure.

Johnny watched the track intently, sun beating down on his back but he didn't pay attention to it. He was currently searching for Ponyboy Curtis, best friend, and really the only person he came here for. He barely missed a meet in the entirety of Pony starting track, why would he start now?

Though he had come a few minutes late, Pony probably thought he wasn't coming. He wouldn't miss it—that's what he'd said at Pony's first meet. Still held up now.

He perked up slightly when he noticed a familiar brunet—who was scanning the metal bleachers just as Johnny had been searching the teams. Gazes met, and smiles appeared. 

Johnny loved Pony's smile. He had to admit it; the way his eyes lit up with them, highlighting the green that Pony oh so ever hated. Johnny liked the color in them though, gave some uniqueness. Like Pony needed any more though.

Johnny's smile was hesitant, slow to form. Always was, even now. With how comfortable he was with the gang, Pony especially, you'd figure he'd grow out of it. But no, his smile would forever look shy.

The same thing with the greeting of a wave. Pony's was loud—not really—and Johnny's was barely the lift of a hand. Complete opposites, you might say, but they weren't. Not really.

As the runners lined up, Johnny leaned back slightly to relax—there were only a few people who had shown up to this one ( track was never a popular sport. at least from what Johnny saw ), and thankfully he had enough room. He never really understood track, it's just a bunch of kids running to cross a line first, right? Whatever it was, he'd cheer Pony on.

If Johnny was bolder, he would've been one of those embarrassing friends—to mention a few: Dallas and Two-Bit—and jumped up, yelling supportive things and cheered when Pony won either second, first, or third place. Which he did, however, win second place.

Johnny figures you're supposed to head back to your coach, leader, whatever, but what he didn't expect is for Pony to come racing up to him.

Even though his eyes widened in surprise ( and half embarrassment—he's sure people are wondering why the second place winner is running up to a random kid ), he stood up quickly to make sure Pony didn't trip in front of him.

But that only added to the 'oof' effect when Pony practically ran into him, throwing his arms around Johnny's neck and almost toppling the two over if Johnny hadn't found his footing.

"Hey Pone," He coughed, "Congrats, man."

Pony pulled away, still holding Johnny by the shoulders, excitement tracing his features. "Man Johnny, I did it!" He exclaimed, grinning widely.

"Yeah Pone, 'course you did," Johnny offered a smile, huffing out a laugh. Both heads turned when Pony's name got called, and Pony started backwards, looking back at Johnny to make sure he could go.

The gesture was weird, but Johnny nodded his chin towards where the name had been called, sinking down to his seat and watched Pony skip into a jog—back over to his team.

Johnny smiled slightly at the back of Ponyboy's head. The sun made Pony look ethereal even as the younger was looking all ruffled from the meet. A word popped into the back of Johnny's mind, and the raven haired squinted slightly, before brushing it off.

He'd make sure to tell Pony that some time. In the far, far future.

"Really Pone, I'm okay," Johnny said for the tenth time, voice cracking slightly. His black eyes watched as Pony paced around a bit, looking for the first aid kid. "Everyone's got a few injuries," he added weakly, knowing he wasn't going to win this conversation.

Ponyboy didn't answer until he had found the first aid kit tucked somewhere behind or near the fridge. "Sure Johnny," he agreed sarcastically, tossing Soda a band-aid that the older Curtis brother had asked for previously. "Darry, I found it!" Pony yelled to wherever Darry had been looking, and the rest of the gang headed towards the living room.

"Thanks Little Buddy," Darry mumbled, taking the kit and shifting through the stuff thrown inside. The materials they had were dwindling down every rumble they had, but what else could they do about it except toss a new pack of band-aids in it every month or so?

As the kit got handed around, Johnny denied it when it was offered to him, save for snatching a band-aid. He figured he could just clean the cuts he had and call it good. About to push himself to his feet and head to the sink, a rag was suddenly shoved in his face.

He backed up from it slightly as if it was haunted. Johnny slowly raised his head to meet the eyes of the person offering it, already knowing he was going to see Pony. The two youngest held eye contact, a staring contest of sorts.

Johnny's eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and they stood there silently for a full minute or two—everyone rustling around them—before Johnny groaned, gaze flickering away. "Fine," he mumbled, shifting to sit down on the floor, only to have Pony point to the couch.

Lips pursed into a childish pout, Johnny flopped down on the floor anyway, causing a muttering of annoyance to leave Pony's lips before the younger sat down across, scooting closer until their knees brushed. Leaning closer still, Pony reached up with the damp rag and started brushing it against the drying blood on Johnny's face.

It wasn't like this was anything new to Johnny—sure he's had people clean his injuries before—, but it was never as gently as Pony was doing it. Ponyboy always had a gentle touch though. Ran in the family.

Johnny swallowed, eyes darting everywhere, unsure where to look. After a moment he gave up, resting his gaze on the male in front of him, still handling him so gently—it would be an understatement to say Johnny felt like crying. He felt like downright sobbing, and he didn't know why.

Tears welling up in his eyes, he flinched away from Pony slightly, trying to play them off like he had touched a sensitive spot. "Sorry Johnny," the youngest whispered.

The raven haired shrugged it off, letting Pony start tending to his injuries once again. He sniffed slightly, subtly. He willed himself not to start crying in front of everyone, but after Pony had finished placing the last band-aid on his forehead—the brunet tugged him into a hug. 

"'m sorry for fussin' over you. You just didn't look so great afterwards and—"

There were those fucking tears again. Someone cared. Someone cared about stupid ol' him—Johnny Cade. Kicked puppy, following anyone he could for shelter. Pony was still talking, but Johnny couldn't focus on anything but keeping himself from crying. He wasn't a stupid bawl baby, he wasn't.

He sucked in a breath, and wrapped his arms around Pony in return, burying his head in the crook of his shoulder, hoping that would help in disguising his failure. Water pricked the edges of his eyes and soon spilled out. Tears trailing rivulets down his face, he was suddenly pushed from the hug.

"Johnny? You okay?" Ponyboy asked, too loudly for the older's comfort, hands on his shoulders.

"What?" Johnny asked dumbly, reaching up to scrub at his eyes, trying to play it off as he sniffed again.

"Was it somethin' I said?" The words were asked weakly, concern creasing Pony's forehead as he stared. 

"Kinda." Was all the response Johnny felt like giving, before leaning forward and resting his forehead on Pony's shoulder, breathing slowly. 

". . . Thanks Pone."

"Still pretty," Johnny murmured, a small smile gracing his features as he watched the sun drift down and into the unknown. It always felt like a privilege whenever he managed to catch the shifting colors, darkening into the night sky—or brightening into the daylight. 

"Yeah," Pony dragged out his word slightly, sounding bored—Johnny knew he felt nothing of the sort though. Pony always got like this when he saw something pretty. Less focused on the world, and more focused on the beauty. "Real pretty," Pony added after a beat, probably snapping back to reality now that the sunset was dwindling on the last wisps.

Johnny nodded in agreement, shifting and bringing his knees to his chest, resting his chin on his knee. There was another moment of quiet between the friends. There always was. A silent agreement to let the buzz wear off—as Two-Bit had phrased it once. Somethin' pretty' always got you hyper ( but he had been drunk when he said it. when was he ever sober? well maybe with marcia ).

Johnny always figured they were just appreciating the lasts of the sunset though. Didn't like the relation to alcohol. As orange now faded into dark blue, Johnny let out a content sigh, closing his eyes slightly to relish the last memory of the sunset.

He opened his eyes when a chilly wind threaded through his hair, and he shivered. He never liked the cold; always had to be in it though.

"Real pretty," Pony repeated again, this time in a small, mindless whisper. He got the same response, a nod from Johnny, who glanced over at his friend from the corner of his eye—only to dart his gaze away the moment he noticed Pony was looking at him.

He was probably overreacting, right? There's no way Ponyboy Curtis just called him pretty. In a suave, subtle, cool way especially. Pony isn't suave. Right? Johnny reached up, rubbing at his eyes before dragging his hands down his face. He's going crazy for sure.

Sighing, Johnny leaned back, resting against the trashed car seat the lot always had. Pony scooted closer as he always did, now that the heat was fading and the cold was coming on.

"Cold?" A stupid question, he knew, but the silence was excruciating.

Pony answered with a low hum and Johnny's eyes flickered down, knowing that wasn't really an answer—but he didn't push it. Pony let out a small sigh, just as Johnny had done moments ago, and the younger leaned against Johnny slightly, eyes blinking closed.

"Heya Johnny."

"Yeah Pone?"

"You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah Pone."

Another hum. A tired one this time. "I mean it."

" . . . Yeah Pone. I love you too."

Pony let out a childish huff—when really he was disguising the nerves—and leaned up, turning slightly so he faced Johnny. "I mean it, Johnny. I do." His eyes were serious, not like the friendly 'i love you's they might've joked about a few times.

Johnny's mouth went dry. He was serious. The silence was deafening, but Johnny knew it was his fault. He should be responding, but he couldn't. He swallowed dryly, forcing his nerves down with it.

Pony said it. So it's alright. Right?

"Yeah Pone," He choked out for the millionth time too. "I love you too." Johnny knew he just repeated the words he had said before but with the way Pony's face lit up, he knew that Pony knew. It was genuine.

Pony reached over, and laced his fingers with Johnny's; lightly. With a glance up to make sure that was okay, the younger settled back down to closing his eyes and resting against Johnny.

A small grin adorned Johnny's features. They hadn't said anything else. But that'd be enough. Just for tonight.

A kiss to the head.

A squeeze of a hand.

The drifting of the breeze.

The stars blinking.

Johnny wouldn't have imagined anything more. Nothing perfect, because they weren't. They were them.

And that's all it took;

To fall in love.

[vroomvroomintomyroom]

Phantom Troupe x Reader Part 3: The Talk

POV: A God or higher-being (who knows, really?) decides to reincarnate you, a clinical psychologist, into a strange, limbo-like void. Your mission? To reform the notorious Phantom Troupe and transform them into functional members of society. The only catch? You can't leave until they're reformed, and the Troupe is far from cooperative. And, even when the Troupe tries to kill you (which they will most certainly do) you've been gifted or cursed with the gift of infinite respawns—much to their annoyance.

(Y/n) stood at the front of the "therapy office," which had somehow expanded to accommodate all twelve members of the Phantom Troupe. They sat scattered around the room, clearly unenthused. Hisoka lounged dramatically on a chaise, Machi leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, and Uvogin had already tipped his chair back on two legs like he was trying to make the furniture submit to him.

Feitan was sharpening his sword (because of course he was), Shalnark was twirling a pen like a baton, and Nobunaga was sitting cross-legged on the floor as if he’d already given up.

“Alright,” (Y/n) began, clapping her hands together to get their attention. “We need to have a serious talk.”

“Oh good, because I was really hoping for another lecture,” Nobunaga muttered.

She ignored him, pacing in front of them like a professor trying to wrangle a particularly unruly class. “I get it—you’re all dangerous criminals with trust issues, anger problems, and a general disdain for authority. But guess what? I’m the only way you’re getting out of here.”

Phinks scoffed. “And what exactly makes you think we care about leaving?”

(Y/n) stopped pacing, narrowing her eyes. “Because this place is a void of nothingness. There’s no fighting. No looting. No drinking. No…whatever it is you people do for fun.”

“Kill people,” Uvogin offered helpfully.

“Yeah, that!” she snapped. “None of that here! Just you, me, and endless, soul-crushing boredom until you become decent human beings.”

“Decent human beings?” Machi said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s your plan? You think we can be decent?”

“Yes,” (Y/n) said firmly. “But only if you cooperate.”

Uvogin barked out a laugh. “And what if we don’t?”

“Then we stay here forever,” (Y/n) replied, her tone sharp. “And don’t forget: I respawn. So every time you try to kill me out of sheer boredom or spite, you’re just resetting your own progress. Which, frankly, is a stupid strategy.”

“I like stupid strategies,” Hisoka said, smirking.

“I know,” she shot back, glaring at him. “But do the rest of you really want to risk spending eternity in limbo because he’s having fun?”

The group collectively turned to glare at Hisoka, who gave a mock-innocent shrug.

“So,” (Y/n) continued, crossing her arms. “Here’s the deal. You work with me—just enough to make actual progress—and I’ll make this as painless as possible. Or, you keep fighting me, and we spend eternity here, stuck in this therapy office. Your call.”

“Let’s say we do cooperate,” Chrollo said, his voice calm and measured. “What exactly is your plan to ‘reform’ us?”

(Y/n) hesitated. She definitely didn’t have a plan. But she couldn’t let them know that.

“Therapy,” she said, trying to sound confident. “Lots of therapy. One-on-ones. Group sessions. Team-building exercises.”

“Team-building exercises?” Feitan muttered, disgusted.

“Trust falls?” Shalnark asked, looking far too amused.

(Y/n) glared at him. “Don’t test me.”

Chrollo tilted his head, studying her like she was some kind of puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “And if we refuse?”

“Then I make it my life’s mission—my respawning life’s mission—to annoy you into submission.” She grinned at them, the kind of grin that screamed, I’m more stubborn than all of you combined.

Phinks groaned. “She’s serious.”

“Dead serious,” [Y/n] said, still smiling.

There was a long, tense silence as the Troupe exchanged glances. Finally, Uvogin leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Fine. I’ll play along. Could be funny.”

Shalnark grinned. “Yeah, I’m curious to see how this goes.”

Machi rolled her eyes but didn’t object. Chrollo leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable, and Feitan…well, Feitan just kept sharpening his sword, but at least he wasn’t actively protesting.

(Y/n) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Great. First step to progress: cooperation. Baby steps, people. Baby steps.”

Hisoka leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “This is going to be fun.”

(Y/n) pointed her pen at him. “And you’re going to be my biggest headache.”

“Looking forward to it,” he purred.

As the group settled into a reluctant silence, (Y/n) sat down at her desk, flipping open her notebook. Okay, she thought to herself. One step closer to getting out of here alive. Sort of.

[alegendoftomorrow]

We'll Make It Out

Summary: As the new Jedi Commander of the Bad Batch you aren’t exactly well liked by your new team, who view you as a babysitter. Except for Echo, who understands better then most what it’s like to be on the outside. When a mission goes sideways you start to lose faith in yourself, in your squad, in everyone but Echo, who won’t let you give up.

Character: Echo and F!Jedireader (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 2,782

Warnings: Canon typical violence and peril, minor injury, mention of blood.... I think that's it.

A/N: This is my second entry for the incredible secret gift exchange hosted by @cloneficgiftexchange you are so incredible and thank you so much for doing these amazing events, and giving me a reason to finally write again! I have never gotten to write for any of the Bad Batch boys and I was super excited to do this prompt especially as I got to explore the Batch's earlier days and work in a little about the way they may have originally viewed Echo and a new leader of the squad. It definitely took me out of my comfort zone, but I took a risk and tried something new for the wonderful @orbital-mirror. I hope you enjoy this fun little piece as much as I enjoyed writing it!! As always, any comments or reblogs with your thoughts are appreciated.

“Echo, look out!” You shouted to be heard about the blaster fire as you raced towards the Arc trooper currently being surrounded and cornered by a legion of Droids.

He spun towards your voice and managed to blast the three shots needed to dismantle the droids that had snuck up behind him, while you ignited your lightsabers and flipped in front of him to slice through the remaining ones there.

“I’ll handle the rest of these you get that door open and try not to trip the alarm this time,” you ordered. Echo grumbled something but it was hard to hear through his helmet modulator as he jogged toward the metal door built against the mountainside you were currently cornered on. Inserting his scomp into the lock and beginning to twist as he typed hurriedly on the pad.

You took a stance in front of him and spun your two lightsabers back and forth as you guarded him and yourself from the relentless blaster fire. Your eyes scanned back and forth as you reached out and connected with the force around you. Feeling the reverberations in the ground and the change in the air pressure as you blocked each blast by near instinct alone.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but there’s more coming,” you said breathlessly. A sheen of sweat coated your forehead as you tossed one of your sabers up high in the air, reaching your hand out and using the force to shove the first few rows of the advancing battalion back into each other. The clink of metal and their high-pitched voices adding to the chaos as you spun and caught your saber again before it hit the ground.

“I’m doing the best I—got it! Go get inside I’ll cover you,” Echo said loudly. You didn’t even hesitate as you felt him stand and move towards you. You blocked one more shot before you took off into the dark maw of the now open tunnel, turning and calling out for Echo as he walked backwards into the tunnel after you.

One press of your fingers has your lightsabers disengaged and back on your belt before you flick your wrist to close the door and spin the lock. Echo blasts the control panel with two shots.

“How long will that buy us?” You ask. Shifting on your feet and doing a poor job of keeping the nerves from your voice. Regretting volunteering for an assignment you clearly weren’t ready for.

“Not long enough,” Echo replied dryly.

“That’s very helpful thank you,” you said with only a hint of sarcasm. Echo just shakes his head and gives you five more seconds to catch your breath before he starts moving deeper into the tunnels. Hugging the wall with his body as he taps the side of his helmet to turn on the light there.

You couldn’t see his face behind his gray and red helmet, the matching colors of the squad you’d been newly appointed, the same squad who were not at all happy to have a Jedi babysitting them. Especially one so young. A newly minted jedi knight. A product of a war that needed more commanders and generals then there were master’s and knights to fill. You hadn’t been ready for the trials, you’d tried to argue against them, but your master said you were ready, and you had passed them easily enough. Yet, the seed of doubt had remained. Growing and festering like a vine around your heart, all the way until you’d been sent to Kamino to work with a highly specialized squad. They’d been on assignments before without a Jedi, but a recent mission had gone sideways and resulted in half the team coming back in various casts and bandages, requiring month long stays in Bacta tanks before they could resume training. Plus, they’d gained a new member, an Arc Trooper and rescued POW. Since then, the Generals had decided the Bad Batch as they were called, could use a Jedi’s supervision. At least temporarily.

No one on the squad had been happy with your appearance. No one that is except for Echo. He always made sure you had a seat and were included in plans, even if the others looked at you suspiciously and had on more than one occasion tried to leave you. He stood up for you when the others got snippy or ignored you entirely. You knew realistically that he was simply doing it because he was used to following a Jedi’s command, but part of you couldn’t help the warm feeling that spread over your chest every time he did something kind for you. A feeling you did your best to mediate away every morning. To little effect.

“Come on, the coordinates Tech gave us show the control room should be down this hall and to the left,” Echo’s voice cut through your wondering thoughts and brought you back to him.

Nodding your head you searched up ahead through the force for any signatures of life but found nothing. You took that to mean the other members of your squad had done their part in causing a diversion leaving you and Echo free to get the stollen plans and leave behind a virus that would wipe out the Separatist’s systems here.

Easy.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be here,” a droid called when you unlocked the door to the control room. His metal finger pointed at you while he reached for his blaster. Echo and you were swifter.

“Get the files to Tech and plant the virus I’ll watch the door,” you said. Stepping back into the hallway as Echo inserted his scomp link into the port and began to search for the files.

“On it commander,” he replied. His eyes shifting over the screen far faster then you could keep up with.

You really wished they’d drop it with the commander title and just call you your name but, that seemed a habit you couldn’t break any of them off. Though you got the impression only Echo actually did it out of respect for your authority. An authority you question daily. Especially now as you flicked your gaze to the hallway, a sense of dread building at the base of your spine as you could hear the banging of droids firing against the metal door. You tried to find the peace within yourself that always seemed easier for those around you to find. Imagining you were back at the Temple, sitting underneath the flowering tree in the courtyard as you watched the pink petals float down to the pebbled ground. The image only helped for a moment as you refocused your attention back to Echo. He seemed unfazed by any of it. Working quickly and silently aside from the faint whirring of his scomp every now and then. Somehow, he looked more at peace than you did.

“Are you almost—”

Bang! The sound of the door at the end of the hall being blown to bits made you wince and reignite your saber on instinct. Echo was already beside you when you turned back to get him. His hand on your bicep as if he intended to yank you somewhere. The sounds of droids shouting orders and marching down the hall in time with your rapid heartbeat made you ignore whatever Echo’s hand there had meant and instead trade your sabers out for your comm link as the pair of you raced down the hall.

“Tech please tell me you’re there?”

“Yes, commander we read you,” Tech’s voice was staticky. Probably due to being underground but you hoped he could hear you enough as you sprinted for your life. Opening and closing any doors you came across with the force.

“We’re going to need an immediate pick up!” You shouted a little more frantically then you meant to.

“Sorry commander that’ll have to wait,” Tech said again.

“Wait for what?!” you shouted back.

“It seems your earlier light show display set off a series of silent alarms that alerted the commander of the base that we are here. So, we’re—” There was a pause as the static grew worse and Hunter’s muffled voice could be heard shouting something about Fighter’s on their tail. “Yes, yes, I see them. We’re fine.”

“Tech!” Echo shouted now through his own comm.

“We will have to use the secondary agreed extraction point as the first one is now overrun.”

“We won’t make it to the second extraction point,” Echo says as you force open another door which had dead ended in a hanger bay. There’s no way out.

“See this is why we shouldn’t have agreed to work with a Jedi. Or a reg,” Crosshair’s voice drawled over the comms. You didn’t need the force to sense his aggravated disapproval that he and his brothers were being forced to reassess their plans for the two of you. That they were being thrown back into danger because of you.

“Stow it Crosshair,” Echo snapped. “Just be at the extraction point. We’ll make it there.”

You did not share his hope as you slammed the door on a droid’s face, ducking the incoming blaster shot he’d managed to get off. They were right. This was your fault. Your poor leadership instincts had led you and Echo to be trapped down here while the others were trapped in the sky.

“Copy that,” Tech’s voice said plainly and then the comm cut out.

The second extraction point was several miles away from the command tunnels you were in now, there was no way you were going to make it there. Not trapped like you were with a virus about to short circuit every piece of technology in here and a battalion of droids outside the only blast door you could see.

“Commander over here.”

You didn’t know when Echo had left your side, but you followed his voice until you found him halfway in a small gunship used to protect the supply ships that came in and out of here. It was just big enough for two people. A pilot and a gunner.

“Can you fly this ship?”

“I—” The droids were carving their way through the door. You couldn’t do this. Sure you could fly the ship but what then? The mission had gone wrong because of you. If someone else would have been here they wouldn’t have needed lightsabers, they wouldn’t have tripped the silent alarms. Echo would be safe. The men you were supposed to lead and protect would be safe.

“Commander,” Echo’s voice pulled your attention back to him as he pulled his helmet off and looked at you with a face that was always so stern, yet he had the softest pair of eyes you’d ever seen. “Our only way out of here is this ship. Now I can’t fly it, so I need you to do it. Okay? Can you do that? Please,” he added. His attention still solely dedicated to you despite the banging and shouting coming from behind the pair of you and the racing of your own heart. Right here there was only him. Only Echo.

“Yeah,” you breathe out. Clearing your throat and nodding your head. “Yes, I can fly it.”

“Then get in and get it started, I’ll open the bay doors and we can go.” He’s gone again before you can argue.

Hoping in the cockpit your hands move on their own. Using your memory and placing trust in the force that hums around you louder than before, you flip the engine switches and grip the controls steering it around into position as you wait for Echo to swing himself up onto the wing and then flip into the gunner’s seat behind you.

The canopy doesn’t close fast enough. You’re too focused on the controls. The force tugs and pulls your attention to the back but you ignore it in favor of making sure you don’t crash. It’s only after you hear a muffled scream of agony that’s quickly swallowed up by the sound of the roaring engine that you bother to look back. To see Echo’s shoulder smoking with a brand-new blaster wound through it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Echo, we have to stop,” you begged as you marched through the heavy underbrush in search of the clearing that was pinging on your outstretched data pad. “Please, I know I’m no doctor, but I can patch you up.”

“It’s fine commander I’m… fine,” Echo’s voice was weak and even though he’d turned off the sound on their walk so you couldn’t hear the pained breaths and heavy pants, you could feel them there. Feel them in the way his force signature wavered and spiked. Hotter and louder than it usually was, though now it was growing colder.

“No, you’re not fine you—”

“Commander please!” he panted loudly. Resting his scomp against a tree to get some weight off his legs as he looked over at you. You winced at his harsh tone and even if you couldn’t see his face, the way he lowered his voice showed he regretted it. “I’m fine. There are scouts looking for us and if we don’t make it to the extraction point, we could be stuck here.”

“And if you bleed out on the way there then were both dead anyway.”

“No, you’ll be fine. You keep going if I start to—”

“I’m not leaving you Echo! You’re stuck with me out here, so if you pass out from blood loss then I’m going to sit down right next to you and face whatever comes for us. Even if it kills the both of us. It’s my job to protect you, so stop arguing with me and sit down so I can patch you up!”

Echo stood frozen in front of you before finally slowly nodding his head. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeated. Walking over to him and helping him sit so you could take off his shoulder piece and helmet to assess the damage. It wasn’t as bad as you expected, but his blacks were quickly filling up with blood and the circular wound was blackened. You pulled a Bacta patch from your kit and carefully applied it to his shoulder. Apologizing at the slight hiss that left his lips as you did so.

“It’s fine Mesh'la,” he whispered. His eyes widening when we realized what he’d said. Apologizing and looking away as you went back to work.

“What does that mean?” you asked after a moment of silence. Your curiosity getting the better of you.

“What?”

“Mesh’la,” you repeated the word poorly.

He looked away again and flushed a faint pink along his pale cheeks. Pausing for a moment before looking back over at and giving you a gentle smile. One you’d never seen before.

“We make it out of this I’ll tell you,” He promised.

“That’s not fair,” you whined. Leaning down to kiss the bandage you’d put on his shoulder without thinking about it. “How will I know if we don’t make it out?”

“I…” he gaped at you for a moment, and it was only his bewildered expression that made you realize what you’d done. Now it was your turn to blush and duck your head. Handing him back his shoulder piece and helping him attach it without looking anywhere near his eyes.

You force lifted his helmet over to your hands as the pair of you stood. Running your fingers over the edge of it before offering it back to him. His gloved hand brushed yours for the briefest of moments when he took it back.

“Then I guess it will just have to be a mystery,” he said quietly again. His tone almost hinting that he was smiling again, and it was enough to make you meet his eyes. Rewarded for a fraction of second with a smile you could tell used to cross his face more often.

“We’ll make it out,” you said firmly. Wrapping your hands briefly around the hilts of your lightsabers and finding yourself calm again despite it all. Not because you’d imagined the tree at the Temple, or your master’s kind teachings, but because Echo was smiling at you.

“You know I meant if we survive the whole war, right?” he almost teased as he clicked his helmet back into place. Leaving you with only the memory of his smile to reply for the rest of your life.

“No, no, no you can’t change the rules like that,” you argued with no intentional malice. Letting yourself laugh quietly for the first time in…. too long. “You alright enough to walk again?”

He nodded his head. “Wherever you lead commander.”

[elysianfieldsarchive]

For the fifth year, we are excited to announce the Elysian Fields Secret Santa Fanwork Exchange!

That’s great! Except I have a question: What the heck is the Elysian Fields Secret Santa Fanwork Exchange?

Ahh, glad you asked, friend. The Elysian Fields Secret Santa Fanwork Exchange is our final event of the year. The how is simple: sign up to give a fanwork gift, and receive a fanwork gift!

If you’ve never taken part before, or if you need a reminder, here’s how it works: 

Everyone who signs up to participate will create one fanwork (a fic or a piece of art) and receive one fanwork. (You can opt out of giving and/or receiving art in the Google form if you’re only interested in giving and/or receiving written fic). Each fic MUST be a “one-shot” (a complete work, posted in full, within a single chapter). This means the word count MAX for written fic is 15,000. There is no word count minimum so long as you have satisfied at least one of your giftee's requests in the story.

So a one-and-done fic or piece of artwork that is complete at the time of posting?

Yes!

And fic can’t be more than 15k words?

Correct!

Though, please note that 15,000 words is defined as how our software tracks word counts. Unfortunately, predicting that is a bit nebulous as every writing program defines words differently. In fact, there’s a difference between our textbox counter and the official site word count because sometimes we just can’t have nice things. Suffice it to say, there may be word count discrepancies between Google Docs, MS Word, or other programs. Ultimately, it’s every participant’s job to make sure that your story fits. If your fic is approaching the limit, we recommend leaving ample time for edits to make sure you can post correctly and before the deadline.

So we know the word count max; what’s the word count minimum?

There is no word count minimum for this event. All we ask is that all works be created with care and fit with your giftee’s requests. Some people want a lot of words to do this, and others can make magic with just a few (or none, in the case of art!). We trust our members to be thoughtful when creating gifts for one another.

You mentioned artwork. What if I want to make sure I get a fic, not art?

You can opt-in/out of receiving art on the form.

Since this is a Christmas-themed event, does my gift need to be Christmas-themed?

Nope! But if your giftee requests a holiday-themed work, definitely consider it.

Do we get pretties?

Of course! What’s an EF event without pretties? And because we’ve streamlined crediting, ALL AWARDS ARE UP FOR GRABS. Author, artist, beta/sensitivity reader, and commenter. 

How do I get an author award?

Create a work for the event that is either entirely word-based (fic) or fits our narrative artwork definition.

Can I work with someone else on my event response?

We do not allow co-authored stories for this event, as it would make it too hard to match people. Artists can collaborate with an author by providing art for their story, however, as one way to receive the artist award.

How do I get an artist award?

Create a story banner for someone else’s Santa work, contribute artwork to a Santa work, or create artwork for your giftee.

How do I get a beta/sensitivity reader award?

Help a creator out by providing feedback on their work in progress. You can volunteer to beta or sensitivity read on our Discord server, or create a beta profile.

How do I get a commenter award?

Leave a minimum of 15 comments comprised of at least 15 words over the course of the event. These comments do not need to be on event submissions but can be left on any fanwork on the site.

I’ve signed up! What happens now?

Once you complete the form, the Mods will work together to make best case matches from all of the responses and then reach out to each participant with the penname and fanwork preferences of their giftee. Please remember that this gift-giving is confidential. Don’t share who you have for a giftee until you post your fic! 

Work together to keep the SECRET in SECRET SANTA.

Can anyone participate?

Unlike other EF events, we do have restrictions on participation.

Any member, whether they've previously written a fic on EF or not, is eligible to partake in this event––UNLESS you signed up for last year’s Secret Santa event and did not complete your fic or did not complete your fic by the deadline. Those members will have already been notified (at the end of last year’s event) and will not be eligible to participate this year, but may participate again in 2025.

Please note that bad behavior toward your gifter or giftee, regarding either the gift you receive or the gift you deliver, will result in a permanent ban from this event for all future years. We wish we didn’t have to say it, but we do.

We hate leaving anyone out, but since the spirit of this event is gift-giving and impacts other members, we take sign-ups very seriously. Everyone who decides to participate should both give AND RECEIVE a gift.

What if I sign up in good faith but something comes up?

We understand life happens. All participants who have yet to post their gifts will receive an email on or around December 15 to confirm their intent to complete. If you must drop out, please inform the Mods before this date. This will give our Rescue Writers/Artists time to swoop in.

Dropping out DOES mean you won’t be able to participate next year, but we’d rather know so we can make contingencies than have someone go giftless. If you do not communicate with us at all regarding dropping out, you will be banned from participating in all future Secret Santa exchanges.

I want to make sure everyone gets a gift, regardless. How can I help? / You mentioned Rescue Writers/Artists. What are those?

Rescue writers/artists are members who sign up to help out just in case someone is unable to complete their work. If someone drops out, we may reach out to see if you can help make sure their giftee doesn’t go empty-handed.

What if I am paired with the same person as last year/year’s past?

Hopefully, this won’t be an issue; we will do everything possible to avoid pairing repeats. That said, it might be that your best match is someone you were previously paired with. People who were previously paired were paired because their wants-to-receives and willing-to-creates were in harmony. If that hasn’t changed, then it could be you are again the ideal creator/recipient for someone you were paired with in the past.

Anything else?

Just one thing. Please thank your gifter when they publish the gift they make for you. Sometimes we get gifts that don’t live up to our expectations, but they were still made with enthusiasm, love, and a love of our community.

We take this very seriously. Bad behavior toward your gifter or giftee, in regards to either the gift you receive or the gift you deliver, will result in a permanent ban from this event for all future years. If there is an issue, let the Mods know.

Okay, so what are the dates?

Important Dates:

November Now-17: Signup to participate in the 2024 Elysian Fields Secret Santa Fanwork Exchange 

November 22-23: Assignments Distributed

December 1: Posting begins!

December 15: Your drop-out deadline

December 31, 11:59 pm, site time: All gifts must be posted. 

No late sign-ups or publishing will be allowed.* Leaving a participant giftless will make Spuffy deeply sad, and we can’t have that. It will also result in ineligibility from participating in Secret Santa for at least one year. (A one-year ban if you don’t post but at least tell us, or a lifetime ban from participating if we never hear from you.)

*If you miss the deadline to post, please still send your gift, just be aware that it won’t officially count toward the event. And—we cannot stress this enough—keep the mods informed about your gift.

Any questions? Email us or comment!

And in case you missed it: HERE'S WHERE YOU SIGN UP FOR THE 2024 ELYSIAN FIELDS SECRET SANTA FANWORK EXCHANGE

[kellycataclysm]

The story so far for Lyra and Harvey

This is long so settle in.

Let's begin with a link to my AO3.

Lyra and Harvey's story spans several years. Allow me to give you a suggested storyline to follow.

Please be reminded that the content I write is NSFW as I am writing adult relationships and they contain adult situations.

Starflower Gardens - Part One

Meant To Be - A 'What If...?' tale set in the summer of Year Zero, a turning point in Lyra's life and a chance meeting with someone that may leave a lasting impression...

Ask Me Anything - Two flirtatious friends. Only one bed. An opportunity to get to know each other a little better.

Whispered Dreams of Stardust - The night of their first kiss and what happens next.

I Really Should Go - The words of two very polite people who really don't want to leave. Harvey and Lyra's first night together.

Walk of Shame - The morning after the night before for Harvey.

NEW WIP - Waiting for Your Embrace - Spirit's Eve, year one. Dressed in their finest costumes, Harvey waits for Lyra in the maze before taking her away, somewhere quiet, just the two of them...

Risky Business - Lyra and Harvey get a little carried away at the spa. What's a little risk when you're sure you've met the love of your life?

Always in my Dreams - Takes place after they said those three little words. (Let's get coffee... no, you know the ones I mean. ily.)

The Coffee Connection - Year One from Lyra's perspective.

Starflower Gardens - Part Two

NEW WIP - Snowbound - Harvey's Birthday, year one. Lyra and Harvey barely even notice the snowstorm outside when they only have eyes for each other. Harvey asks to try something for his birthday and Lyra is only too happy to go along for the ride. It all starts with a blindfold...

Picture Perfect - Harvey explores his feelings for Lyra while away at a medical conference.

One Weekend in Winter - Lyra and Harvey are reunited after his trip. A special moment in their relationship.

The Magic of Falling Snowflakes - Inspired by the spectacular art that I was gifted as part of our Winter Star gift exchange. Harvey moves in with Lyra and finally finds his home.

Steal Your Heart - Year One from Harvey's perspective.

Stars Before the Dawn - Just days after moving into the farmhouse, Harvey spends a relaxing morning with Lyra before the Feast in town.

A Sense of You - A fluffy story of one winter night just after Harvey moves in with Lyra.

Mirror, Mirror - Slow dancing to Billie Holiday. Champagne kisses and fireworks. New Year's Eve for Lyra and Harvey.

Texting Temptation - Harvey has to survive a day at the clinic during which Lyra sends him many tempting messages and pictures. Tease.

NEW WIP - As yet untitled one-shot. Harvey takes care of everyone. He definitely takes care of Lyra, in so many ways. Wouldn't it be nice, especially on their honeymoon, if they switched things up a little?

Wild Hearts in the Wildflowers - Lyra and Harvey in their honeymoon period, at the Flower Dance.

Starflower Gardens - Part Three

The Words We Never Say is my long fic, the story that started it all. It is very nearly finished! One chapter to go!

A story of melancholy, yearning, fluff, and spice which takes place at the end of year six, in which Lyra and Harvey have been together for five years and need some help remembering what brought them together in the first place.

The Fairy Garden - a small one-shot, told through the eyes of their daughter.

Praise You - Harvey deserves to be taken care of. Lyra wants to tell him just what a good boy he is.

Echoes of Autumn, Snapshots from Spring - A collection of moments throughout their lives, inspired by Inktober and Kinktober.

Thank you so much to the ever-generous, supremely sweet, and endlessly talented @saradika-graphics for these absolutely beautiful dividers. Go see and read everything they do! All utterly wonderful!

[soleillunne]

「 zhongvie 」

⤷ For @sylviegirly !! I had so much fun reading through your blog + the links you sent me !! I love you two, and I've decided you two are my parents now /lh Hope I did you two justice!!

⤷ I wasn't sure if you preferred 2nd or 3rd povs so I went with 3rd just to be safe (since you mentioned Sylvie is an oc) but if you'd like me to change it to 2nd please lmk!!

The streets of Liyue Harbor were bathed in the warm glow of lanterns, their golden light reflecting off the tranquil waters below like scattered stars upon a dark canvas. The scent of freshly baked sweets wove through the air, carried by the gentle evening breeze, mingling with the laughter of festival-goers and the soft murmur of lovers exchanging gifts. The docks swayed ever so slightly beneath the weight of the celebrations, the rhythmic lull of waves beneath them a constant, steady heartbeat amidst the night’s revelry.

It was a day of romance, of indulgence, of promises both spoken and unspoken. Valentine’s Day had come to Liyue once more.

And Sylvie, as always, was in the thick of it all.

“Come on, Zhongli, live a little!” Their laughter rang out like a bell, bright and effervescent, as they tugged at his wrist, weaving through the bustling market stalls with the enthusiasm of someone experiencing it all for the first time. And in a way, they were—five hundred years away meant missing quite a lot of changes, and Sylvie had no intention of letting any more slip through their fingers. “You used to be the god of contracts, right? Let’s make a deal. If you try at least three sweets, I won’t drag you into anything too absurd today.”

Zhongli huffed, though his steps held no real resistance. He allowed himself to be pulled along with the ease of someone who had long since learned that fighting Sylvie’s whims was a losing battle. “That is a rather vague condition, Sylvie. I’d rather not find myself in a situation where I must clarify the definition of ‘absurd’ with you.”

Sylvie smirked, sharp and teasing, eyes glinting with mischief. “Alright, alright. Three sweets, and I won’t make you join a street performance.”

That gave him pause. A single brow rose, his lips pressing together in faint suspicion. “...Very well.”

The first treat was a candy, delicate and sweet, melting on the tongue like nostalgia itself. Zhongli hummed in quiet approval, his expression unreadable save for the faintest flicker of something distant in his gaze. Sylvie leaned in, grinning. “See? Not so bad, huh?”

His response was a simple nod, but the way he let the flavor linger, as if committing it to memory, did not go unnoticed.

The second was a mochi-like confection, soft and chewy, the kind that stuck to one’s teeth in the most infuriating way. Sylvie had chosen it on purpose, of course, and when Zhongli’s usually impeccable composure wavered for just a second too long—his jaw shifting ever so slightly as he tried to dislodge the stubborn treat—they nearly doubled over in laughter.

He let out a slow breath through his nose, reached for a handkerchief with practiced elegance, and shot them a look so dry it could have rivaled the deserts of Sumeru. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Sylvie wiped at their eyes, still snickering. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

By the time they reached the third, Sylvie had decided to play fair, selecting something they were certain Zhongli would enjoy—a simple, well-balanced almond tofu, paired with a cup of warm tea. They found themselves at the harbor’s edge, where the distant hum of the festival softened into something gentler, the ripples of water catching the lanternlight in a dance of gold and crimson.

Sylvie stretched their arms behind their head, exhaling in satisfaction. “Not bad for a first Valentine’s together, huh?”

Zhongli glanced at them then, amber eyes reflecting not just the glow of the lanterns, but something softer—something warm, something knowing. “You say that as though we have not spent centuries together in one way or another.”

Sylvie turned to him fully, tilting their head. “Yeah, but this is different,” they pointed out. “Before, we were just two people who kept running into each other over and over, right? But now…” They faltered for a moment, the words catching somewhere between thought and voice, before shaking their head with a huff. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, setting his tea down with deliberate care. “A contract of the heart, then.”

“Oh, don’t you start getting poetic on me now,” Sylvie teased, though the flush at the tips of their ears betrayed their amusement. “I’d say something dramatic in return, but I think you already know, don’t you?”

Zhongli studied them for a long moment, the space between them narrowing, not in distance, but in something far less tangible. Then, with a gentleness that belied the weight of history between them, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from their face.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I know.”

The world around them continued—lovers exchanging gifts, vendors calling out their wares, fireworks painting the sky with bursts of light—but for that brief, fleeting moment, it was just the two of them. Bound by time, by laughter, by something wordless and eternal.

And perhaps, just perhaps, by the promise of many more nights like this to come.

@soleillunne 2025. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.