#cody knew right away

[stars-n-spice]

How Cody's first meeting with Hunter and Crosshair went:

Based on this:

By the amazing @here-comes-the-moose!

[sassy-bitch-since-2007]

Got hyper fixed on Island of the Slaughtered and-

Imagine the knife wasn't the killer's weapon. That was actually something Noah had on him, for protection. The moment that rope came around his neck he took out the knife planning to cut it, but didn't get the chance.

For a small moment, Noah actually has hope that he'll get away. He has the knife in his hand, all he has to do was cut that stupid rope. Simple, right? No. Because Noah was too slow and the killer saw the weapon and took it. He stabbed Noah with it, which wasn't actually planned. Then he drowned him in the lake too, just to make sure he stays dead for good.

And you know what? He might have had a chance of survival, if not for that stab. There are cases in which someone was brought back by performing CPR. If someone found his body soon enough…

But he lost so much blood too, due to the stab wound. There was no hope for him.

And he brought it all to himself.

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

… So I just watched the two episodes of Bad Batch and I… I need some time to process that last episode, not just the content of it but what it means for the future of the last 4 episodes

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 11

X-Virus x Female Reader - Mutual Masterbation/Voyeurism

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mutual masterbation, accidental voyeurism, stealing, vaginal fingering, jerking off, squirting, teasing, pussy stuffing

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.5k

“Well, don’t stop now. It was just gettin’ good.”

Cody’s job was to examine, to watch.

Trial and error of different concoctions of viruses, syringes and needles always being injected into something for him to study, to watch. It was the only thing he felt efficient at. Behind his hazy goggles, was a whirlwind of onlooking eyes, gathering every detail to jot down or improve upon.

So evidently, it didn’t take long for him to notice his shirts going missing. Worn clothes tossed onto his floor haphazardly, just to disappear the next day, completely gone. To anyone else, they never would have noticed, but Cody did. He always did.

He also noticed when you passed him in the mansion’s hallway how your eyes would hold onto the floorboards, never daring to meet his. Or, the uncomfortable way you tried to leave every room he walked into, Toby teasing him about being ‘too weird to hang out with’. But he knew.

Cody was always busy, swallowed by the work in his lab, you probably thought he’d never have time to assume it was you. But standing in your doorway, arms crossed and tired eyes glaring, you were proven very wrong.

“Cody- I-”

“Oh no, please. Don’t let me interrupt. You’ve nearly taken half of my laundry,” Your face was so red, breathing unevenly as you held your bed sheets up, hiding that glorious view he had walked in on. “-Just wanted to see what you planned to do with it.”

The image flashed in his mind as you tried to come up with some smart answer. He could still see your soaked fingers nestled into your pouty cunt, the palm of your hand bumping your clit as he opened your door unexpectedly. You were quick to hide yourself, but he could still see his shirt hanging loosely on your shoulders, the fabric a little too big for you.

“I- I don’t know what to say…” You’re flushed, refusing to look at him directly and settling your gaze at the end of the bed, heart practically thudding out of your chest. “I-I’m sorry?”

“Mhm. Well, get on with it then. I’ve got work to get back to.” Cody stood unmoving, reaching to shut your door and pop the little lock closed, crossing his arms back. You were speechless, glancing at him but then quickly away, tugging the sheets up further. “What…?”

“It’s my shirt, most of them, actually. I feel like I deserve to see what all the hassle is about.” Maybe he was being stingy, but he just really wanted to see that pretty sight again. Was it his ego getting to him? Or just the sheer fact that you were getting off to him? He couldn’t act like he was interested, the tired demeanor he usually put on faltering slightly when he saw your legs shift under your sheets. “So get on with it.”

He was ready to be told no, to be yelled at and told to leave, and he would’ve- if you didn’t start sitting up… and moving the covers down.

You refused to look at him, cheeks so dark you could’ve been mistaken for having a heat flash, but Cody couldn’t peel his eyes away. You sat back, splayed out in the mess of pillows and sheets that you were nudging out of the way, spreading your legs and- 

Oh.

The sight was even better now that you were showing it off to him, bed sheets ruffled around your ankles as you spread your thighs. Your soaked panties were pulled to the side, lying snugly against your puffy cunt that was nearly smeared with your arousal, practically dripping. You closed your eyes, the brunette’s t-shirt hanging off your shoulder as you tried to keep your composure.

Cody was stunned, body rigid as sparks went off in his brain, trying to come up with some sly remark or funny comeback, but his tongue felt so heavy in his mouth. The brunette was supposed to be smart, supposed to know exactly what to do at all times, but right now, watching your fingers tremble as they gripped onto his shirt… He didn’t know what to say.

“Happy?” You huffed, shutting your legs quickly and tugging the covers back up, breathing ragged as you tried to will the man away. It snapped Cody back, tearing his eyes away from your center and back to your face, embarrassment etched on every feature. He didn’t want to admit it, but he needed to see it again, he had to.

“Again.” The word was stale, barely a mumble.

“What?”

“Again, let me see.” He spoke up a little, causing you to finally catch his gaze. His fingers were digging into his arm, shifting on his weight anxiously as he dared to move forward, to rip the covers off himself. You were stunned, heart thumping so loud you were afraid he could hear it. “C’mon, woman.”

You fidget under his gaze, so self-conscious of every inch he could see as you began to push the fabric back down, riled by Cody’s sudden show of interest. Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening as you spread your thighs, feeling the gush of your wet pussy meeting the cool air of your bedroom.

This time, Cody doesn’t wait to just see it, he’s moving in closer. You jerk, flinching as his knees press on the edge of your bed, dipping the weight while you clasp your legs back, trying to hide yourself.

“Oh, nuh-uh, don’t get all fuckin’ teasy now.” Cody lets his demeanor abandon, trying to play hard thrown out the window now that you’ve given him what he wants. He feels like he can’t stop, like every wire in his body is snapping towards you.

He had seen pussy before plenty of times in porn, his old laptop giving him a good enough show to get off- but now that you were laid out in front of him, cunt so pretty and wet because of him.

Porn would never be enough, now.

He’s pushing your legs apart, thighs so warm under his cold fingers when you give little resistance. Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Cody hooks his fingers into your damp panties, giving little incentive if you wanted him to; you had stolen his clothes and were fingering yourself to the thought of him- he could do whatever he wanted, now. His eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric being tugged down by his fingers, your legs moving easily as he slipped them off. “I’ll be taking these.” He shoves the soaked fabric into his jeans pocket, smirking with a vengeance as you whine.

“Guess this is what you wanted, huh? You’ll have to forgive me, but wearing my clothes basically means you’re liable, so let me have my compensation, alright?” He’s gripping at your skin, labored breaths from your parted lips as you nod, heart fluttering when he slots himself between your parted legs. His fingers dance on your thigh, feathery touches too light for any sort of friction, but just enough to set your skin ablaze.

“M’sorry, Cody- really… I jus-” He’s shushing you, shaking his head as he watches buds of arousal pool at your entrance, cunt fluttering from being untouched. “Aw, I did interrupt your little session, didn’t I? Guess you should get back to that, right?” Snagging your wrist, he brings your hand back down to your folds, expectant eyes when you don’t immediately start. “Wait-”

“What? Did you forget? I can show you.” Gripping your fingers tight, he holds the two middle ones, hauling the digits lower until the pads of your fingers press against your entrance. He helps you push them in, grabbing your wrist and slowly hauling them in and out, fucking you with your own fingers. You couldn’t deny the rush it gave you, the strange way your gut fluttered as Cody just stared in amazement, watching them disappear into the swell of your cunt. 

“Holy hell…” The way you clenched, stomach and thighs tensing every time he pushed your fingers in, it was mouth-watering to see. He wasn’t sure how he had gone this long letting you get away with it, stealing his clothes and hiding away to do this- he cursed himself for not barging into your room sooner. 

“Ah- Cody-”

“Is this it? Needed to wear my clothes just to feel like it was my fingers fucking you? You coulda just asked for them, no need to hide.”

You whined, taking the initiative to curl your fingers, pushing against the gush of your warmth and making yourself moan. “Well, maybe don’t barge in on people and I woulda… eventually- Ahn-”

“Maybe don’t be such a thief.” Watching wasn’t good enough now. Leaving your fingers sunk deep and soaked, he probed two of his underneath them, pushing into that tight ring. You gasped out, legs clenching but Cody held them open, nudging his digits inside along with yours. 

The stretch was incredible, waves of arousal shooting up your spine with every inch he sunk them in, your cunt fluttering around the swell. In your lust-hazed mind, you find the words to respond to him, “You s-seem to- hah- not mind so much. ”

“Of course not.” He eyes up at you, your heavy gaze something to be admired when you roll your hips up, huffing when his knuckles pop inside of your heat. His fingers slide in, curling in unison to search for that spot inside you that Cody knew would have your sweet moans singing louder. “It’s fuckin’ hot.”

As he kneels between your open legs, slowly curling and pressing your fingers inside of your cunt, you spot the very obvious outline of his cock straining against his jeans looking painfully hard. Thank you, God, for this man. You stole his shirts out of want, his smell still thick on the fabric that it made you so nauseously horny, imagining it was him touching you all over. You hoped he wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t care because nowadays it was the only way you could get off- but thank God he did.

Cody halted his fingers when you began to pull yours out, quiet groans when the empty space was filled back with his thicker, longer fingers pushing their way in deeper to accommodate. “Let me…”

Reaching out the unsteady hand, still glistening with your slick, Cody watches you reach for his belt, gripping the leather and tugging desperately. He begins to finger you slowly, spreading his fingers to stretch you gently, feeling his knuckles slip in and out of that ring. “Fuck…” Reaching out both hands, your face feels so hot, riddled with arousal as you unzip his jeans. He adjusts his hips, sitting up a little so you can tug down his boxers- until he snaps his wrist. 

“Such a pretty pussy. All f’me.” He spreads your lips teasingly as he grinds the palm of his hand against your clit like you did, your cunt clenching around his digits like you couldn’t get enough. You palmed at his clothed cock, your wet fingers staining his boxers as he rutted his hips against your hand, focusing on that lewd squelch sounding from your folds. 

“Co-” You whine as fingertips come out to circle your sloppy entrance before pushing right back in, thick digits nudging against that sweet spot nestled right at the swell of your cunt, right where the pads of his fingers were buried. Through hazy eyes and weak limbs, a gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Cody’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, wrapping a fist around the base. With a groan, he leans into your hold on his length, pulsing and achingly hard for you. “Fuck, woman.”

His arm strains as he pumps his fingers, your pussy soaked and dripping every time he drags the digits out just to shove them back in again. “Ah! Hngh- Cody, oh my god. Yeah- ngh-” You moan as he starts grinding his palm across your throbbing clit, mindless little movements that have you panting. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing, realized that you were gushing onto your sheets below.

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine- all the way to his throbbing erection held so tightly in your hand. “Shit.” He huffs, “You’re gonna drive me crazy if you don’t start movin' that hand, girl.”

Caught up in the overwhelming curl of his fingers, you begin to slowly pump his cock, wet fingers gliding up and down the length. You stop at the head, rubbing your thumb across the divot on his tip and watching as his lips part just a little, a deep breath being sucked in. “Yeah-”

Maybe it was the view, or how pent up he was, but it didn’t take another stroke before Cody could feel his heavy balls tighten, throbbing in your grasp. He had to make you cum, needed to before he blew his load too soon. Your hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into your fist haphazardly.

Now, Cody was fucking you like he had a point to prove, snapping his wrist as he brought his free hand off of your thigh, swiping the digits across your clit while he soaked the others to the knuckle. A startled, strangled moan of his name leaves your lips, the loud sounds of your cunt echoing as you fisted his cock the best you could, fingering the precum that dribbled down the length. “Cody-” You squeal, heat heavy on your cheeks as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

Cody can barely believe it, rubbing deep, languid strokes across your clit as he fucks your cunt, your hips writhing to meet in time with his coated fingers, palm practically full with your arousal. “C’mon, c’mon then- Yeah, yeah- Cum already, woman-”

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-” Your orgasm crashes through you so violently and hard that you see flashes of white behind your eyes. You cry out, trembling as your sloppy pussy squirts all over Cody, covering him in all your sweet juices till his hands are glistening with your slick, dripping down his arms and absolutely soaking the sheets below. It’s so warm, the man moaning along with you as your sweet fingers rub him so right.

And oh how he was entranced. The brunette barely registers his own orgasm, hips faltering as he pumps thick, hot ropes of seed into your hand and on the insides of your thighs, eyes rolling slightly. 

You’re both disheveled, his shirt riding up your stomach as he slowly tugs his fingers from your swelled cunt, your whines something he thought he’d only hear in porn. “Fuck.”

He’d let you keep that shirt. Hell, he’d give you every damn item of clothing he owned if it meant he could do this again.

Cody was known for watching, for examining, and he’d happily watch you fall apart like that over and over and over again.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[dontbelasagnax]

I wanted to participate in Mermay. It’s now October. Alas. Codywan makeout session forever 🙏

[prints available]

My process is under the cut if you would like to see how I made this :3

I'd been feeling a little dried out and beaten artistically in May so I didn't do much art. However, I really wanted to do something for Mermay so one night before bed I quickly scribbled some quick concepts in the notes app of my phone with my finger.

On the 28th I realized the month ran away from me and was quickly escaping so I knew I had to get started on drawing something for Mermay. My bathroom concepts, as cool as they are and despite how much I like them, had to be discarded because drawing a bathroom and rendering everything to the degree I envisioned wasn't feasible. Unless some miracle happened, it's the kind of artwork that, at the absolute minimum, would take 15 hours. More realistically we'd be looking at 25-30 hours. Really not doable on a time crunch. That's not to say I won't ever return to it!!

So to start off on the other idea I had, I looked through Pinterest for around ten minutes for some inspiration (mainly at photos of pretty underwater shots and also some photos of people swimming underwater) and then sketched for maybe 20-30 minutes.

A while ago, while I was mulling over what fish I would base mercodywan off of in a potential au, @happybean17 recommended the epaulette soldierfish for Cody and once I googled it and discovered it is also called the kuntee soldierfish... well, quite honestly, how could I resist? It's the perfect colors and Cody, my beloved, is soooo cunty.

I initially wanted Obi-Wan to be based off a shark of some sort but when I started drawing it just felt right to make him frilly like a betta which I rationalize is because he wears robes with some swoosh. I then googled and quickly found a betta that's very Obi-Wan colored.

Soooo after looking at the photos I put my sketch in my tablet and started doing lineart.

I drew a big fanned out tail for Obi-Wan but after I had spent all that time on it I decided it was far too static and flat. It didn't feel like it was swishing in water.

I made a copy of the tail and minorly edited that to be Obi-Wan's swooshy butt fin. And to make his tail swooshy I used liquify and also redrew a bunch of it.

And then I began the loooong process of painting.

I've hit the image limit so pretend I've added the finished product here.

All in all, this took me over 14 hours and--due to some hiccups in my life--many more months than planned. Going so long without finishing a single artwork was incredibly demoralizing so I'm relieved to finally finish this and have an actual artwork to show for my hard work. Oh, and thank you for reading my rambles and I hope seeing the process was interesting!

[sinnabum45]

Unexpected Babysitting

Link to help Palestine and other resources! 🇵🇸

[Plain text: Links to help Palestine and other resources! (palestine flag). End plain text.]

[Image description] Digital comic of Ace Attorney characters: Miles Edgeworth, Cody Hackins, Maya Fey, and Pearl Fey.

Page one: Colorful, blurred image of Amusement park’s entrance. People are walking around. Text: “Amusement Park: Steel Samurai special event.” Miles is walking and is internally excited. There are people walking around behind him. Miles’ thoughts: “They’re giving out exclusive Steel Samurai merchandise today! Yippie! Yippie!” There is a small drawing of Miles in his thought excitedly moving his hands up and down. Text box: “Bought a pass one month in advance.”

Page two: Cody yells “Hey, Pops with the frilly thing!!” Miles is surprised and turns around to see an upset Cody standing behind him. Cody, point at Miles: What are you doing here?! Don’t tell me something bad happened again!” Miles frantically tries to explain, “Wha— Ergh! Nothing happened- I’m just…” Cody interrupts him, and stomps his foot. Cody: “Yeah right! Why are you here then?!” Miles: “Ghk!” Maya is off screen and calls out to Miles, “Ah! It’s Edgeworth! And Cody!” Miles and Cody turns towards her.

Page three: Maya and Pearl are walking up to them. Maya is smiling and Pearl is shyly holding Maya’s hand. Maya: “What are you doing here, Edgeworth?” Pearl: “Hello, Mr. Edgeworth.” Maya, snickering: “Maybe you’re here because a “certain someone” is in today’s stage play?” Miles is embarrassed, clenching his jaw and his eyes are closed. Behind him are texts: “Why does this happen every time? I just want to enjoy the show in peace, ALONE. I knew I should’ve worn the disguise today!” There is a little drawing of Miles with “said disguise”. He is fixing his sunglasses with his right hand and a black coat over his usual suit. The kids start approaching Miles. Maya with a mischievous smile: “Aww, don’t be embarrassed! I love Steel Samurai, too!” Pearl: “Me, too!” Cody with his hands raised to his chest: “What?! You like Steel Samurai, too, Pops?!” Miles is backing away, embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Page four: Two sketches of different scenes. Miles is paying for everyone’s food. Behind him, Maya has one arm raised over her head: “Yay~!! Thanks, Edgeworth!” Pearl is holding onto Maya’s arm: “Thank you, Mr. Edgeworth!” Cody has his hands raised to his chest again “You’re not so bad after all, Pops!” Second sketch: Miles is facing an off screen worker with a glare. “Excuse me. She asked for no pickles.” Pearl is behind him with tears in her eyes and she is holding her hands up to her chest. Maya and Cody are sitting at a table eating burgers. Maya is looking at Pearl with worry. End description.]

I wanted to have the Steel Samurai fans hang out 🥺🤲 They probably discuss a bunch of facts and share their interpretations about it together.

Miles does not know how to interact with kids, that’s for sure LOL Maya making fun of Miles for his crush on WP is now my favorite thing (There was supposed to be a whole scene with PowersWorth, but maybe another time)🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️ I’m assuming Pearl got into Steel Samurai because Maya likes it!

Also, I really like how the anime emphasizes Cody’s impact on Miles. I feel like he was the catalyst for Miles to change. And the scenes of Miles struggling (and losing) against Cody in the games were very cute 🥹

[woso-dreamzzz]

Helper III

Lia Wälti x Mariona Caldentey x Child!Reader

Summary: You help your Mummy's girlfriend

Mariona knew about you before she started dating Lia.

It would be practically impossible otherwise.

She can still remember the uproar that went through the gossip vines when Lia took a break due to injury only to announce she was pregnant. At the time, Mariona hadn't paid much attention to it.

She'd seen the pictures, of course, announcing your arrival but she hadn't had any plans to see you. She and Lia weren't close back then.

But then Ana started talking about you both.

First it was 'my best friend Lia' and 'my little niece' that Ana seemed to throw out randomly but then Mariona started paying attention to it. You and Lia had existed on the fringes of her awareness for a while until Lia joined Mariona and Ana's girl's holiday.

You hadn't been there, spending the time with your grandparents back in Switzerland so Mariona got to know Lia without you and then, as time went on, she got to know Lia with you too.

Now she was here though.

At Arsenal after ten years at Barcelona.

"You ready?" Lia asks.

They'd driven separately today.

Mariona had gotten her own apartment rather than moving straight in though both she and Lia know she'll be spending a lot of time with you and Lia at the house.

"Yeah. I think so."

"It'll be great," Lia assures you, opening one of the backseat car doors and undoing your seatbelt," Won't it, guppy?"

"Uh-huh!"

You slide out of the car as Lia goes to get all the bags out of the boot. You place your hand in Mariona's.

"You have to hold hands in the car park," You tell her," Mummy says so. And you can't run either. That's dangerous."

"Oh, wow," Mariona pretends to be surprised," Thanks for telling me."

You beam at her and Lia looks at you both fondly.

"I'm going to school this year," You tell Mariona," So I won't be around a lot."

"I heard you are very excited."

"I am. Mummy already taught me how to read and how to add and take away."

"Well, I think you'll do very well at school then."

Your little chest puffs out in pride as the three of you make your way into the locker room.

You drop Mariona's hand then to go running over to Codi.

You didn't get to see her for most of the summer so now that preseason's rolled around, you just can't contain yourself.

Codi's your best friend at Arsenal, you think. She's fun and cool and has cows back home in Spain that she sends Mummy pictures of for you to see.

Codi does puzzles with you, at Arsenal and at home too. It's quite fun.

She's friends with Mariona as well and she told you once that Mario is just a big puppy sometimes. You haven't met a lot of puppies in your life except for Jordan's Blu and Beth and Viv's Myle but you think you understand what Codi is saying.

Mariona has an infectious kind of happiness.

Infectious is one of the words Mummy taught you last night when you were reading together so you're very proud of yourself for knowing how to use it.

"Guppy!" Mummy calls," Come on, breakfast!"

You usually have two breakfasts. One at home which is your main one. It's cereal most of the time and you and Mummy clean the dishes together before you come to training to get your second breakfast.

This one is usually a bacon roll or something smaller depending on how much first breakfast you eat.

You tell Mariona this as you walk with her, swinging your joint arms.

"I just need to go talk to Kim," Lia says," Guppy can take you to grab food, right Guppy?"

"I can help!"

You lead Mariona over to the buffet and hand her a plate.

"What do you want?" She asks.

"I'm meant to be helping you!"

She laughs and it's that infectious kind of laugh that has you giggling too.

"We can help each other."

In the end, you both end up with food on your plate and you practically drag Mario over to where Leah is eating.

"You're not eating properly," You tell her and Leah groans.

"Come on, it's the first day of preseason! Have we got to start this now?"

"Yes. That's not proper food, auntie Leah!"

Mariona has to smother her laugh. She's not really sure what to make of Leah now that they're on the same team but she knows Leah's important to you and Lia. She's just not sure where the boundaries are right now.

"Yeah," Leah says," You laugh it up Caldentey, just you wait. She'll be on you of your eating habits."

"No I won't!" You insist," Because Mariona eats healthy!"

At first, Mariona was a little confused about how you would fit in with the Arsenal girls. She couldn't wrap her head around what it would be like with such a little kid running around with the team would look like.

But, as she watches you wander around with a clipboard in her own apartment, she can see you're exactly like you are in private.

Overwhelmingly helpful.

She hasn't unpacked yet so she was a little confused as to why you and Lia followed her back from training, only for Lia to get out of the car and tell her you've been preparing for this moment for weeks now.

You hold the same clipboard from training right now and number boxes with a little pencil.

Lia sits on the sofa, watching you with a fond expression.

"Don't mind her," She tells Mariona," She'll let us know when she wants to put us to work."

"Are you sure? I can-"

"Leave her," Lia insists," She gets annoyed when people interrupt her 'system'. She'll get us when it's time."

You touch every box twice, tapping the top before noting down the number on your little clipboard.

"She's very smart."

"She cried last year when I told her she just missed the cut off date for school. She spent all of her time trying to learn what she'll be learning this year."

"Scarily smart, then."

"She's a good girl." Lia watches as you do a second sweep of the boxes. "And she's very excited that you're here."

"Is she?" Mariona frowns. "But-"

"She thinks you're super cool like Codi."

"Does she?"

"I mean, you don't have cows like Codi does but Guppy really wants to see how well you can puzzle. It's her favourite activity."

"Puzzling? Really?"

"Why? Are you surprised?"

Mariona turns her head to watch you poke around a box that she's sure has all of her electronics in.

"No. That tracks. I think I'm more surprised that she got Codi into puzzling."

"Mummy!" You call out before Lia can respond," Mariona! I'm ready."

Lia stands smoothly, "Alright. Where do you want us?"

You look down at your list, quiet for a moment as you sound out what you've written there. "Boxes one and four need to go in the kitchen! Two and three are all clothes and five has a bunch of decorations. Six and-"

"Let's take it room by room," Lia says," Let's start with the kitchen."

You nod, head bobbing up and down twice. "Okay! Boxes one and four!"

Lia grabs one of them, hefting it up into her arms and heading into the kitchen to start unpacking.

"Come on, Mariona," You say, taking her hand," Me and Mummy are going to help!"

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for ruining my cousin's birthday party?

Please read the whole thing before making a judgement.

Real names not used.

So I (25M) bought a nintendo switch for my younger sister Sara (16F) for her birthday. However, mom decided that Sara would be sharing her birthday party with our cousin Cody (12M) as a celebration for him just recovering from having cancer. Mom had also said that it would be family only so Sara was not allowed to have her friends over for her 16th birthday. She was of course upset over that because she had plans on what she wanted to do with her friends. But Aunt (Karen) had told her not to be selfish about it because "you see your friends every day at school."

The rest of our relatives who had been invited hadn't been prepared for it to be a celebration for Cody as well, so none of them had gotten anything for him. Karen decided that it would be fair if Cody got to choose some of the gifts for himself. Of course as soon as he saw Sara open the wrapped up Switch, he had snatched it saying that it was his now. Sara was upset about that because she didn't think it was fair to let him do that, but the rest of our aunts and uncles scolded her for being selfish and being mean to "poor Cody". And "Cody has been sick, just let him have this. He deserves it. You are being greedy for wanting it."

Sara locked herself in her room for the rest of the party and didn't even come out for the cake. She only came out after everyone had left. Her eyes were puffy from crying and it was obvious that she did not have a good birthday because of everything. If anything, the party had been more about Cody while she had just been shoved to the side.

Fast forward a few months to the day of Cody's birthday. Aunt planned a big party for the day. All of Cody's friends were invited along with all our family. Sara refused to go and planned to go hang out with friends instead, but she was forced to go in the end because other relatives were calling her selfish and cruel for not wanting to celebrate Cody's birthday. She said she would only be there for an hour before leaving, and I said I would drive her home.

Aunt and Cody had gone out to buy the cake, so I went to their home early. Luckily for me, Uncle (Tony) was home. He hadn't been there for Sara's birthday party because he had been away for a business trip. He had let me inside when he saw me and I told him what had happened at Sara's birthday. Apparently he hadn't know what had happened. I asked him if they kept the box for the Switch, and he had said yes.

Tony had not stopped me when I packed the Switch back into its box (I removed the game that was in it and put that back in its case). He didn't stop me when I took the packed up Switch out to my car. He said that I was allowed to have it, so I did. I took it back to the store I bought it from and returned it. Luckily, it was still within the return window, so I was able to return it. I bought a few new Switch games for Sara (Some of her friends had banded together and gotten her a Switch). I never went back to Cody's house after that. Instead, I stayed at home with Sara because our parents relented and let her just stay home instead. I played games with her while our parents were gone.

Hours later, Mom and Dad come home bringing Karen with them. Karen was livid. She screamed that I ruined Cody's birthday party by stealing his Switch and that we must hate him for being sick. She knew I had been at the house because the doorbell ring showed I had been there. Apparently they had planned party games that would revolve around the Switch so all of Cody's friends had been disappointed when there was nothing to play. Karen screamed about how Cody had been crying and that it was not right to make the birthday boy cry. I pointed out that they had made Sara cry on her birthday. And Karen said "Sara shouldn't be making a big deal out of it, she is being childish for crying over a game system that she doesn't need. Cody is still a child, and you are giving him a bad childhood."

Karen decided that she would be taking Sara's Switch and giving it back to Cody and that she had no right to be taking Cody's things. Sara argued with her saying that it was her Switch that her friends gave her, but Karen screamed that she was just making excuses to be a thief and "you would probably be happy if Cody died, wouldn't you?" Mom and Dad had made her leave, but Karen has been blowing up our phones since then calling us (but mainly me and Sara) assholes for ruining Cody's birthday.

Yeah I know that taking the Switch back was mean, but I don't like how Cody just has to be the center of attention for everything. Sara's birthday was not the first time he got all attention when the party had been for someone else, but those are stories for another time.

AITA for ruining his birthday?

What are these acronyms?

[frostbitebakery]

LOUD.

“It’s a,” and here Cody bites his lips, scratches the side of his nose.

“A?” Obi-Wan prompts gently. Keldabe Kiss doesn’t, objectively, sound too dirty. What’s in a name etc. but when Cody had said, if Obi-Wan is game, they could try something, Obi-Wan had kept his expectations open.

“It’s a headbutt,” Cody wrings out of himself after another few seconds.

On the list of things Obi-Wan had, after all, expected to some degree, this isn’t one of them. He keeps silent. “You want to give me a concussion?” He’s great at being silent, turns out. “Or vice versa?”

Cody is already shaking his head, foot gently shoving his helmet further away from them. “No! It’s a sign of affection…”

Only in the Mandalorian culture, Obi-Wan thinks fondly. “Explain it to me,” he signs, eyes crinkling despite himself.

Cody huffs, leans back against the wall behind his bunk. Most of his armor is stacked on its stand. The helmet on the floor near them because Cody had been fiddling with the antennas when he’d gripped it with both hands, stared at the visor, and asked if Obi-Wan knew what a Keldabe Kiss was.

Obi-Wan sits cross-legged in front of him, restless fingers playing with the starched to death blanket. The mask is on and he wishes it weren’t. The last engagement had knocked the air right out of his lungs when a Hyena-class suddenly dropped down on them and delivered proton bombs on mass. He ended up gasping and on his back after the action was over, so for now the mask stays on.

Cody adjusts the hem on the t-shirt he’s wearing, the bandage no longer peeking out when he’s done. “I’m stalling.”

“I noticed,” Obi-Wan signs back, knocks his shin against Cody’s and lets it rest there.

“Growing up,” Cody begins after a few long moments where he’s watched their legs touch, “we’d sometimes see the Template put his forehead against Boba’s. Gently,” he adds, crooked smile for Obi-Wan’s concussion related fears. His voice turns wistful and Obi-Wan’s heart aches. “We didn’t— most of us didn’t want to be in his place. The Template hadn’t been popular with the clones long before he rejected us. But something about that gesture…”

The gentleness of it in contrast to the cold, neutral environment they’d been growing up in. The obvious affection of it had been calling them. One of the trainers had let it drop what it was named. And over time they had been able to put together a definition.

“You headbutt your enemy to get out of close quarters engagement,” Cody explains. “You have to be aware how you hit them so you don’t injure yourself while inflicting the maximum amount of damage to your opponent.”

“Is that why your nose is a bit,” Obi-Wan signs, pointing at the crook of his own nose just above the mask.

“Wolffe’s head is harder than his bucket,” Cody mutters, thumb stroking over Obi-Wan’s ankle absently.

The other definition, the one the clones had mostly embraced, the one that brought warmth and solidarity into their midst when no one else provided it, that one was based on affection. Clacking your helmets together after the heat of a battle, a job well done. Bringing your foreheads together to be there, to mourn together, to show the other isn’t alone. To remind the other they’re loved.

“It’s also a proxy for a kiss,” Cody explains, color high in his cheeks which makes Obi-Wan’s heart squirm in his chest. They’ve had sex a few possible and impossible ways and yet Cody is blushing over explaining a kiss. It’s sweet and touching and— “You can’t kiss when you wear buckets,” Cody says, “and sometimes you can’t kiss at all for various reasons. So it’s— it’s a kiss by proxy,” he ends, shrugging helplessly and aborted.

Obi-Wan waits as the question builds up inside Cody, firming the strokes of his thumb, the determination in his spine. He waits while Cody is stealing his breath.

“Can I kiss you?”

[chronically-ghosted]

i wonder if you stopped his world like you did mine

rating: teen

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: watching the woman he loves be with someone else is killing him, but for your sake, he manages. But when Benny's birthday loosens him up, he can't help but bear his soul over a phone call. Too bad you don't pick up and he's forced to leave the evidence in a voicemail.

tags/warnings: pining, light angst, idiots in love, country music as a catalyst, romance, tw alcohol, tw drinking, hangovers, ultimately very fluffy

a/n: Happy Valentine's Day @toomanystoriessolittletime! I hope you receive and give all the love you need and want! I've had this idea for a while, but once I saw that Frankie was your fave, I knew I had to do it!

one day i’m gonna do the series of all of my favorite country songs with a Pedro boy. This is one of them: Singles You Up by Jordan Davis. Had thoughts of Me and My Kind by Cody Johnson for our ever-fantastic Jack Daniels and Hurricane by Luke Combs for Joel. One day, my loves, one day. 

🤍Masterlist | Frankie Morales Masterlist

Frankie Morales has a problem.

Given the life expectancy in his line of work – all things considered – it really wasn’t that bad of a problem. Sure, his knees were busted, his shoulder aches when it was cold out, and his ex keeps hounding him for money he doesn’t have. But on the flipside, his little family unit of friends and brothers united by combat are (mostly) all alive and healthy. He has a steady job and his little girl, whom he loves and adores, thinks the sun shines out of his ass. All things considered, there’s not much else he can ask for. He’s far better off than some of the men and women at Will’s talks, or in Santiago’s field teams. 

So – really, truly, seriously – all things considered . . .  he can’t classify this as a bad problem.

In fact, this is a problem he would willingly have. Gladly even. Not quite joyously, but if it’s a choice between this problem and not having the problem at all, he will choose having this consistent, thorny, kind-of-hurts-to-breathe-sometimes problem every single time.

And right now, it’s wearing a dress.

Uh, well, you’re wearing a dress. An off-white, hinging-on-cream, dress that sits above your knees, cuts flat and wide across your chest, and puffs out into cotton sleeves that remind him of those conchas his abuela used to make. Sweet, fluffy, and absolutely forbidden. 

Until the time is right, at least. His abuela always made him wait to eat until the time was right.

He calls it – you – a problem, when in fact, it’s the opposite of a problem. There is nothing he would ever want to change about the warm, engulfing feeling that starts somewhere in his stomach and rises like conchas up his spine until it’s somewhere in his ribs, then under his breastbone, right by his –

He would kill anyone who tried to take that feeling away from him. It’s when he feels most alive, most present, most out of his head – like these things in the dark and sleeping corners of his mind that nip and bite at him can’t find him. He’s thrown them off his scent in his search for you and, even for a brief moment, he can step into the light.

There is no problem, in how you look tonight, how you look every night, with your bright shining smile, sweet-smelling hair, cowboy boots, glass of whiskey – you had such a fantastic taste in –

Wait. 

That’s not whiskey. Not even a whiskey glass. 

That’s –

“White wine?” Benny yelps as he leans forward and his chair legs clatter against the concrete floor. “If that’s Moscato, I’m calling the cops because you’ve been replaced by an equally hot body double.”

You roll your eyes as you sit down and take a long drink from your glass, as if to make a point. Frankie’s eyes are drawn to where your dress hangs over your crossed legs, exposing the curve of your thigh. 

“It’s not fucking Moscato, Benjamin,” you say, eyes narrowed, completely side-stepping his compliment, like you always do. “It’s Chardonnay. Nick recognized the vineyard on the menu so he recommended it. Thought I’d give it a try, because I like trying something new, Benjamin.”

He rolls those beautiful blue eyes and leans forward towards you at the table, that grin that brings grown women to their knees plastered across his face. He knocks back his cowboy hat with a tap of his knuckle. 

“Well, excuse the fuck outta me.”

“The fuck outta you is excused.”

You tug his hat back down over his face, smirking back at him, just as Nick saunters over – with what looks to be a wine glass of his own. 

Okay, in hindsight, you’re not the problem. 

His real fucking problem is Nick. 

Your boyfriend. 

Frankie, who has decided to only drink beer around you since The Almost Incident, takes three long pulls so he doesn’t have to watch Nick and his stupid hands slide across your exposed back and sit down in Santi’s empty chair. 

“Happy Birthday, man, thanks for inviting me out.” Nick says briefly, raising his glass to Benny. “But I gotta say, I was a little worried when my girl here said your party was gonna be at a country dance hall. I’ve never been to one of these. I had to buy cowboy boots just for the occasion.”

He sticks his leg out, and rotates his gator-skin boot back and forth as if to illustrate how important to him this whole thing is. 

But Benny doesn’t look down, doesn’t approve the boots, or Nick’s attempt at fitting in. Instead, he just smirks, his smile growing fat and lazy, a bit of the warmth fading from his blue eyes.

“Your first time at a cowboy hoe-down? I had no idea.” 

Nick grins, because he doesn’t know Benny well enough to see the dig for what it is. But you do. You know him and you know he’s ragging on your boyfriend. You narrow your eyes and shame coats Frankie’s chest. Because he knows also Benny and he knows why he’s giving Nick such a hard time.

See, the problem isn’t you, or even your boyfriend – not really. 

Nick is actually a decent guy. He treats you right, if a little delicately, but he buys you drinks, takes you places Frankie could never afford, in a car Frankie could never ever afford. Sometimes, you’ll say something, or tell a story and it’s obvious Nick doesn’t really understand you or your jokes, but he smiles along anyway. He makes good money and supposedly he keeps in touch with his mom. Nick is the kind of guy any brother would want his sister to date.

So the problem isn’t that Nick is a bad boyfriend, but that he’s your boyfriend.

The problem that Frankie Morales has is that he is painfully, achingly, in love with you.

And he’s your friend.

Maybe that would change, if he ever could work up the guts to say something. For fuck’s sake, he’s killed people – asking you out can’t be that much worse (as Santi often reminds him). But if the guys you’re into are like Nick, or even Nick-adjacent, then what fucking chance does he have? He never thought money was important to you, but apparently it is and that’s something he definitely can’t give you.

Or maybe you like the stability of a high-paying job with fucking miraculous health-care. And that’s two things more he can’t offer: stability and health-care. 

So, maybe, maybe his problem isn’t with you or Nick or the fact that Nick is your boyfriend. It’s that he never could be. He, with one failed marriage already behind him and a coke rap sheet, has nothing to give you . . .

And you deserve the world.

You deserve more than he can offer you. You deserve better than him.

That’s his real fucking problem. And one he can't ever fix.

Will couldn’t get off work to come to this, so he owed Benny a beer and a nice steak dinner – according to Benny. Santi, despite absolutely swearing up and down for a week he wouldn’t be caught dead in cowboy boots and a hat, showed up tonight in full gear, belt-buckle included because he lost a bet with Benny over the Thursday night game. Santi, like everything else in his life, researched the hell out of the two teams, their past history, older statistics of both the players and the coach. He was confident, so confident, that he put his pride on the line. 

Never a good idea with Benny Miller. 

I don’t know, Benny said at the sports bar when his team was whooping Santi’s team’s ass, I just had a good feeling. Presumably, Santi did three shots before leaving and with another two in his system at the bar, all anger and frustration and embarrassment and inhibition had melted away and now Santi was doing what Santi did best, especially when drunk: dancing with beautiful women.

“The son of a bitch can dance, I’ll give him that. ” Benny muses as the three of you watch Santi, who despite having been taught the moves three minutes ago by two gorgeous blondes, complete a perfect line dance of Copperhead Road. 

“Oh, shit, I could never do that.” Nick shakes his head. “Not even after a hundred classes.”

“Ah, I find that hard to believe, Nicky Boy. You seem like a natural,” Benny smirks over the lip of his beer bottle. He finds Frankie’s eyes and winks. 

You are not amused. You glare at him over Nick’s shoulder for the second time tonight. 

“It’s really not that hard,” you smile tightly and squeeze Nick’s shoulder. “I can teach you.” 

“Oh, yeah, don’t you know your girl here?” Benny leans back in his chair, balancing against the rung of Nick’s chair by the ball of his foot. “She used to put all of us to shame. Dancing the night away, leading the crowd in line dancing. In fact, if I remember correctly, she and Frankie used to get into all sorts a-trouble on the dance floor. Isn’t that right, Frankie?”

Now he drew a glare from you and Frankie. 

Don’t, man, just don’t. 

Benny shrugs, swallowing his smirk with another sip of beer, hands raised. Just trying to help out. 

Over the speakers, the song winds to a close and the crowd does their final spin. Across the dance floor, Santi bows, his hat sweeping the floor, to both of the girls who giggle like high schoolers. 

“I’m gonna go get Boot Scootin’ Boogie over there some water before he up-chucks all over those nice ladies.” Benny stands and fixes his hat. “You guys want anything?”

Frankie shakes his head, his own hat that Benny insisted he wear, making the line of sweat across his forehead itch. You and Nick decline as well. You’ve barely even touched your drink, Frankie notes with a certain level of satisfaction. 

As Benny walks towards the bar, the next song starts up and you let out a squeal. Bring on The Good Times has been one of your favorite songs since college. And Frankie should know – he introduced it to you. 

“This one is the best! A classic!” You grab Nick’s forearm, but he almost immediately pulls it back. 

“Ah, babe, my first line dance is not gonna be in front of strangers! I’ll embarrass you and me. Why don’t you ask Frankie?”

Fuck, why could Nick just be a raging, flaming asshole? This would be so much fucking easier. 

Frankie swallows his beer empty, an excuse for a refill prepped. He hates cowboy hats, but he’d fucking set fire to the sky for Benny – he just hopes he immolates himself in the process. The giant brim makes him feel like he’s got a neon sign over his head that blinks, I Am A Giant Dork. Only further proven if he gets anywhere near that dance floor with his two left feet. 

Your eyes are unreadable as he tries to coax your boyfriend into taking you dancing.

“Nah, man, you got this. Your girl’s a great teacher.” By some cowboy miracle, his voice is steady as he says those two words. On the table, your fingers curl in, your wine glass still untouched.

Nick makes a face, eyes flitting back and forth to the dancers as they start the dance.

“My feet are already killing me in these new boots. Besides, this isn’t really my song.”

Over his shoulder, you find Frankie’s eyes. He knows that look on you – he knows everything about you – and you’re trying to hide how hurt you are.

He’s on his feet before he knows what he’s doing.

You and Nick stare up at him, surprised by how he practically bounded to his feet. 

The sweat at the ring of his hat runs down the back of his neck. Frankie does the only thing halfway-normal and extends his hand.

“Alright, princesa, I’ll fill out your dance card.”

He doesn’t care, or even really register, the darkly confused frown Nick sends him when you stand up, take his hand, and smile at him. He feels warm all the way up to his chest. 

“Thanks, Frankie. Let’s boogie.” 

That was a mistake.

This whole fucking night is a mistake. God help him, he loves Benny like a brother but he should have just said no and promised to take him out later like Will. He would have bought Benny any drink, any ridiculous chicken wing plate he wanted if Frankie didn’t have to be here, right now. 

Because right now, right now, that wall of self-control that he uses to stem the reservoir, to stem the flow of whatever you cause to pour out of him, it’s leaking. It’s busted holes and now he’s drenched with it – with the scent of you, with the memory of hair down the length of your neck, the heat of your skin overworked and flushed, the sweet taste of your breath in his mouth when you leaned forward, into his space, his senses, and whispered,

“C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this.”

But in his defense, he couldn’t feel his feet, much less make them move when he watched you with your skirt rucked up high in your fists, your cowboy boots kicking like fish in a stream, and that smile – that fucking smile – brighter and sweeter than all the whiskey in the world. 

C’mon, Frankie, you’re a better dancer than this

C’mon, Frankie, you’re better than this.

C’mon, Frankie, tell me you love me.

Kiss me, Frankie. Kiss me now.

His restraint, his resolve that he will never, ever have you – he can feel it throb beneath his palms. Shudder and wobble under the thundering of his heart. It’s so close to breaking. Too close. This is why he doesn’t drink anything harder than beer around you. This is why he rarely drinks around you at all. 

When Nick finally calls it a night because he’s already got a blister from the new boots, you don’t put up much of a fight. You’ve danced with Benny, you’ve danced with Santi and his gaggle of girls, Nick himself went up for a slow dance or two.

Frankie only ever asked for one. 

He knows he disappointed you, has been disappointing you because you can feel him layering you away, brick by brick by brick. One of his oldest and longest friends, barely visible now, and he’s going over it with caulk to make sure you can’t touch this fragile, weak, emaciated thing he calls a heart. 

The instant you walk out of the bar, Nick’s arm across your tense shoulders, he all but rushes for the bar. 

“Six tequila shots, please.”

You wake up where you went to sleep: curled up on your couch, your giant Florida Gators blanket wrapped around you like a mentally-supportive straight-jacket, with Golden Girls reruns on the TV. The empty bottle of 19 Crimes explains the sticky, dry feeling in your mouth and the thundering headache accompanying swollen eyes and cheeks. You’d rather get hit by a train than have to move out of this position, but Nick has always been punctual.

Which, you assume, extends to picking up his stuff from your apartment first thing in the morning, his final threat that ended your conversation last night. 

The sooner, the better, you mother fucker. 

You blindly grab around for your phone, knowing that it’s most likely shoved into the deepest cracks of your couch, hoping against hope Panera delivers on a Saturday morning. There’s a distinct possibility you might start swinging if Nick shows up before you get a baguette and a coffee into your system. 

The things he said about Benny and Santi last night on the drive home. This break up was a long time coming, but fuck, if this is what he’d been sitting on about your friends, what the fuck did he actually think of you? 

And the things he implied about Frankie – how Frankie was in love with you and you were willingly not seeing it – ridiculous.

You fight the rancid taste of hope that anything Nick implied about Frankie might even remotely be true when you close your fingers around the shape of your phone at the far end of the couch. 

22%

Just enough to order then yeet this fucking thing into another room because there is no way in hell you are answering Nick’s calls.

But, as you scroll through your notifications, maybe you should have answered Frankie’s.

He had called sporadically, starting about two hours after you and Nick had left the dance hall, all the way until four in the morning. 

One text at 1AM: com e hang out wit us.i mis s you u 

You smile, despite the obviously drunken text. Frankie rarely texted, only if it was dire need – and apparently, you continuing to party with the boys at 1AM was very, very dire. Judging by the eight missed calls.

Eight missed calls, but only one voicemail. 

Like you’re about to settle down for some good TikTok scrolling, you lean back into the pillows, rubbing your eyes to clear the hazy fog, and press play. 

First, there’s noise. Lots of it. Country music and people laughing and singing. Clearly still at the dance hall. You wish for a minute it is a video instead because you’d pay hand over fist to see those guys falling all over each other.

But then comes Santi. Over the years, you’d picked up some Spanish here and there, mostly enough not to embarrass yourself if you ever went to Miami. 

But whatever Santi is saying, you’re not entirely sure it is Spanish, or any human language. 

“Comotuamiga, teruegoqueselodigas porfavornopuedo hacerestopormucho mástiempo. Estaríasmásfeliz y ellaestaríamásfeliz. Nomemiresasí, sabesqueloúnico quequiereesqu labeses y la beses y luegohagasotrascosas – ¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste?”

There’s a shuffling, hushed voices, the music still far too loud to make anything out.

“Déjame en paz, dude.” Frankie. Frankie, very very very drunk. “I’m gonna – I’m gonna say – voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. She’ll get it. I know–,”

“Then say something now because you’re leaving a voicemail!”

“Ah, mierda – um, baby?”

In two words and two filler words, Frankie’s whole demeanor changes. You can almost picture him curled around the phone, his hand cradling the phone to his ear as he rests his head against a wall. 

“Baby, listen – fuck, sorry, I’m starting all wrong. I shouldn’t even call you that – I shouldn’t call you ‘baby’ because you’re not mine. You’re not my baby or anyone else’s because you’re so fucking independent and I love that about you but I wish you were. Mine, I mean. Not a baby.”

You don’t even remember sitting up, but your feet are on the ground. You’ve dropped the phone onto the table in front of you, staring at it as if it’s been dripping poison into your ear. Your heart is pounding. 

There’s silence from Frankie for a second, the music still loud, but it’s dampened. You can hear Frankie breathing, swallow, and start again.

“You looked so fuckin’ good tonight. You look good every night but fuck, baby, that dress. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Even for a second . . . he doesn’t tell you that you look so fucking good enough, you know? You should hear it all the time. I wanna tell you – tell you all the time – he didn’t say it once. Not once and that’s a fucking crime. He makes you drink white wine when I know you fucking hate it – I know you, baby. I know you more than I know myself because you’re all I fucking think about. You’re in here, all the time, all up in my chest, my throat, my gut – and you can have it. You can have it. You can have all of me, if you just . . .”

His voice breaks and your fingers clench around the edge of the cushion. 

“If you just . . . look, I know this is so fucking outta line and I wanna say it to your face and I’m gonna but . . . when that fuckin’ moron forgets how good he has it, I’m gonna be there. Gonna be right there. Because –,”

And then like someone shoved a speaker right up against Frankie’s phone, as clear as day, you hear Benny yell:

“IF HE AIN’T HOLDING YOU TIGHT, IF HE AIN’T TREATIN’ YOU RIGHT, I’MA BE THE FIRST ONE CALLIN’ HIM CRAAAZY–,”

“Benny, fuck off!”

And then the call drops, along with it your stomach. In fact, it slides out of your body, slouches off the couch and melts into the floor.

Oh, Frankie, do you even mean a word of it?

The hangover rubbing your nerves raw, tears spring into your eyes, the silence and fear and terrible hope tightening like a band around your head and infinitely increasing the pressure in your temples. You want to cry but your eyes already feel too puffy. 

You’re stuck, frozen by every single possible outcome or single next step spinning out like chaotic webbing you can easily catch yourself on. 

This was a mistake, it had to be. He didn’t mean to call your phone. He had accidentally called you when he meant to call another girl . . . also with a boyfriend named Nick. Frankie, sweet Frankie, who you’ve all but outright begged to take an interest in you – said it with your eyes hundreds of times – Frankie couldn’t actually have feelings for you.

Not like you had for him. Not like the ones you’ve slowly plucked out of your ribs over the years because god, even just looking at him seared a scar across your heart. 

Fuck. Fuck!

You snatch up your phone, wiping your teary eyes and frantically hoping he might have said a name or anything – he couldn’t possibly have meant you – when three loud bangs on your front door sends your phone into the air and your heart into your throat.

The way he calls your name is frantic, verging on hysterical. In a daze, you glance at the clock. 9:04. Frankie’s had about four hours of sleep, if any at all.

“Please, open the door! We gotta talk – there’s something – there’s something on your phone you shouldn’t hear – please, baby, open up –,”

You stare at the phone on your floor. 

Don’t they always say you can’t tell the moments that irrevocably change your life until after they’re gone?

Not this time.

You open the door and either way, everything changes. 

“C’mon, please, let me explain.” His voice has quieted, no longer shaking, softer as though wounded. “Just five minutes and I’m gone. I swear. We can forget the whole thing –,”

You open the door to a hungover Frankie Morales, still in the same outfit you saw him last in, but his eyes are rimmed with black circles, his patchy beard even more patchy as if he had rubbed the bristle clean off. He reeks of beer, peanuts, and cigarette smoke. His shirt is loose, wrinkled, his belt isn’t even on all the way, and he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“What if I don’t want to forget it, Frankie?”

You see the realization strike him through the eyes, the throat, the chest, his gut, his brown eyes swimming with shame and horror. He leans over as if kicked and presses a hand against your doorway. His thumb rubs the corner and he swallows.

“So you listened to it already?”

“Yeah, I did.” He closes his eyes briefly, hanging his head, every apology in every language he knows sitting right behind his teeth. “But did you hear what I said?”

He frowns at you through those thick eyebrows. “What?”

“When I opened the door, did you hear what I said?”

“You said –,” that beautiful bottom lip parts from its sensual top and Frankie blinks at you. The oily blackness of shame has evaporated from his eyes, but that stormy fear rages on. 

You inhale, breath getting caught on every knot in your spine, and step back.

“We need to talk.” 

He glances once over his shoulder, as if taking in the hallway to your apartment for the last time, and he steps inside. Immediately his height and broadness fill out every empty space in your tiny living room and you’re launched back into the memory of when the boys came over for Christmas and there was hardly enough room for anyone, but somehow you all made it work and after four rounds of DDR, everyone was so tired and drunk, you passed out pillows and blankets and you spent your first adult Christmas at what could have been mistaken for a thirteen year old’s slumber party. It was one of the happiest times of your life.

His thick fingers clench and unclench when Frankie spies your phone on the floor, like a bomb waiting to go off. 

Your brain struggles to default to hostess mode because you can’t think of anything to say.

Do you want coffee?

Do you want some cereal? 

Do you want to– 

“Tell me what happened last night.” You surprise yourself, Frankie, and your whirring brain by cutting right to it. As with the first question when you opened the door to him, there’s something inside of you that has taken on wings, spread them wide, and threatens to soar out of your body. Frankie’s here, he’s here, and he said he wants you –

He called you baby.

You breathe in, trying to scrape up some courage from the bottom of your lungs, wishing in the back of your mind under everything else that you’d chosen literally anything else to go to bed in than your Tweedie Bird shirt from Six Flags. 

“I don’t understand, Frankie. Please help me understand.” 

With a monumental sigh, he rubs his wide hand across his face and up into his hair, his other hand lifting his cap up off his head so his fingers can dig into his curls. It’s only then that you realize Benny’s cowboy hat he wore last night is gone and his tried and true Standard Oil ball cap is back. Meaning he must have gone home at some point. When did he realize (or remember) that he’d left you that voicemail? 

“I’m gonna get my ass kicked,” he murmurs, eyes darting like a fox to your bedroom door. “Maybe that’s exactly what I deserve.”

“He’s not here.” This great thing arcs between you, the emptiness a presence and clarity all at the same time. 

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

“We broke up.”

“When? Why?”

“Last night, after we left the bar. We got into an argument. He doesn’t like the way . . .”

Frankie – physically, mentally, emotionally, fundamentally – overwhelms you. He’s across the room in an instant, closer than you think he’s ever been before. But maybe this is the first and only time you’ve ever allowed yourself to enjoy it. Revel in his closeness and let this caged feeling in your chest break free. You touch his chest with the flat of your palm, the size of it, the breadth of him, staggering. You literally feel weak at the knees. 

“He doesn’t like the way what?” His voice luxuriates in his throat – warm, deep. He sounds like what you imagine a hot spring feels like against your skin.

“He didn’t like the way I looked at you.” Your fingers make circles where they did into his shirt. His hands have found their way, after all this time, to your waist. “The way I always look at you, Frankie.”

His breath, subsequent to the ghost of his lips, across your forehead is so gentle it makes you close your eyes, to block out one sense to encourage another. 

You feel him swallow even though he’s a foot away from you.

“Why –,” he stops, and starts again, just like on the phone call, “why do you look at me . . . when you have him?”

“Oh, Frankie.” His grip on your waist tightens as if you’re about to disappear forever. “I took him because I can’t have you.” 

You blame the tears on the hangover, the headache, and the way he takes your chin between his thumb and knuckle. 

Grateful.

He’s looking at you, eyes soft, mouth curved into a disbelieving smile, with gratitude. 

“He’s the furthest thing from you because I tried to get you out of my system – I did – I promise. I can’t lose our friendship, Frankie, but it’s killing me . . . not having you. Nick said it was obvious the way I felt about you and that was a problem for our relationship, so he tried to make me choose between you and him and every time, without a doubt, I’ll always choose–,”

This is the right time, he supposes. 

Hand over your cheek, he holds you still in silence to press his mouth to yours. The final word of your sentence dies on his tongue, muffled by a soft groan of surprise. Your breath is terrible, your skin is oily and damp, he knows he stinks like the bottom of a wet bar, but he can’t find himself to care. Your mouth opens to take him and the hand on your cheek sinks to your neck as you both move past the initial shock of I’m finally getting to do this and you’re not pulling away and into an actual, proper, deep kiss that sends sparks into his toes. Your tongue marks the bottom of his mouth, your arms going around his neck like you want more – you need more – and Frankie pulls back.

Not only because he’s slightly dizzy but because he a) won’t fuck you for the first time on your living room floor and b) absolutely will not do it hungover. 

“Breakfast. Do you like . . . uhm, breakfast?” He can’t quite focus on a single spot on your face, eyes half-lidded and gaze blurred.

You giggle, letting his beard tickle your nose as you sneak your face into his neck. He sways a bit with you, his arms around your back, and you don’t think he’s even realizing what he’s doing.

“Yes, Frankie. I like breakfast. I eat it almost every day, in fact.”

He grunts, neck suddenly flushed, embarrassed. “Sorry, I mean –,”

“I know what you mean, baby.” You lean back and run your fingers through the thatch of curls at the back of his neck. Both of you are so grimy but you can’t care. “I’d love breakfast.”

Frankie smiles his Frankie smile and the thing in your chest is illuminated in gold. 

“How do you feel about conchas?” 

Translations:

Como tu amiga, te ruego que se lo digas. Por favor, no puedo hacer esto por mucho más tiempo. Estarías más feliz y ella estaría más feliz. No me mires así, sabes que lo único que quiere es que la beses y la beses y luego hagas otras cosas. = As your friend, I beg you to tell her. Please, I can't do this for much longer. You would be happier and she would be happier. Don't look at me like that, you know all she wants is for you to kiss her and kiss her and then do other things.

¡Estúpido! ¿La llamaste? = Idiot! Did you call her?

Déjame en paz. Voy a decirle. Ella lo sabrá. = Leave me alone. I am going to tell her. She will know.

[kitcat22]

Can’t get the idea of Rebels era old Rex Gregor and Wolffe time travelling.

And i don’t mean elderly consciousness put back into their younger bodies kind of time travelling, i mean old 60-70sh biologically, sagging skin and beer bellied Rex Wolffe and Gregor back in time, kicking ass, taking names and bringing down the empire before it officially begins

Mostly this comes for me wanting old Wolffe who with gained knowledge and insight into what the Corries and Fox more specifically endured, plus a little bit of emotional growth and brain damage deciding that the best course of action to stop his brothers neck being snapped is to go rogue and kidnap him.

Fox wakes up from like his 4 and a half hour designated sleeping period to the blurry sight of an unusual wrinkled Wolffe standing right beside his bed. He doesnt even have time to say ‘what the fuck’ before he’s been stunned and flung over old Wolffe’s shoulder and is then snuck out to be stashed away somewhere while Wolffe works out how to kidnap everyone else.

Also! Old Rex meeting young Rex and taking every opportunity to make fun of him. The 501st adore old Rex, young Rex does not.

Old!Rex: y’know when I was your age…

Young!Rex: When you were my age you were me now shut the fuck up

And also:

Fives: Will we all be pudgy when we’re older or is that just a you thing?

Rex: 🤬

Speaking of getting older, there’s also the fact that most of the clones didn’t actually get to Rex’s age and i think this would be really painful for the Old Relics Gang too. Like you knew how young your brothers were when the died but seeing them makes it hit harder.

Cody is not thrilled at being treated like a younger brother even if happy that Rex reached old age.

Where is Gregor in this you ask? Probably helping Wolffe kidnap people. Rex is not impressed with the short term planning even if he kind of wanted to do the same.

[chaosandmarigolds]

Coco!! Stop talking about old-

I LOVE HIM

Anyway..

Sorry but John Price, who is undoubtedly the most father coded person, would also be the coolest uncle ever to your nieces and nephews

It would be just a normal dinner with your sisters family, you going on the late summer night with your fiancé. Course you were ready for the ‘isn’t he like…dads age?’ From your sister and a few off the handle remarks from your brother in law, even the kids- Nora, 8, and Coby, 5 - would find a way to a remark. Of that you would have no doubt

And unsurprisingly the air was a bit tense right off the bat, John would press a kiss to the top of your head before Adam would whisk him away to the grill outback

You would get a few smart words from you sister as you helped her set the table

‘He’s really nice, Joan.’ Your words would fail on deaf ears.

‘Course he’s nice! He grew up in the fifties.’

…‘80’s.’

‘THATS BETTER HOW???’

Meanwhile Adam would be making small talk about military things he knew nothing about, and John would nod and smile, correcting him only if he said something utterly absurd

Nora would come over with her ball, trying to get Adam to play and he would said he couldn’t after all he’s talking to ‘Uncle John’

So she would turn to John-

“Wanna play?”

“What’s the game?”

“…run away from Coby and don’t let him have the ball.” Nora replied with a little shrug.

John looks to Adam and then back to the little girl, only to then see Coby right behind her- who promptly snatched the red plastic ball and took off running across the yard.

To that the little girl gasps and looks back up at John, figuring it a loss cause before taking off after her little brother.

‘Adam!’ You open the sliding door to step onto the patio, eyes narrowing against the summer sun and you look to him, “Joan said she’s ready-where’s John?”

Adam gave you a look, “Playing fortress with the kids.”

After wandering around for a few minutes you found the treehouse a few hundred feet away and you find him hoisting the five year old into the dumbwaiter-esk lift, Nora in the little cabin peering out the window.

“You gotta-uncle John you gotta make me go SUUUUPER high.”

“Super high? Can’t think I can lad, but I’ll get ya up to your sister.”

You watch for a minute, fully aware John knew you were there, before speaking, “Dinners ready.”

“NOOOO.”

“Auntie-Auntie can you,” Nora says from her spot, “Can you tell my mom later?”

“Aw, Nor,” you say as you catch the little boy as he jumps down from the ledge, “Your mom wants everyone to come eat.”

“But-but I’m playing.”

“Nora-“

“Lassie cmon down, we’ll finish up after yeah?” John would call out from the bottom of the ladder and somehow the stubborn little girl would relent, climbing down before happily being carried via piggy back.

All in all, for the few remarks your sister made during dinner and then the small talk that followed you would consider that a win.

Until weekend babysitting became a thing because Nora and Cody wouldn’t accept anyone else.

“We might as just have have kids, save us time on driving.” You laugh to your joke after you drop the two kids off back home. However after the long moment of silence you look to him.

“We could.”

“Yeah…yeah we could.”

“Mm, we should.”

“Agreed.”

(….idk yall I’m just yapping. Anyyyyway lemme know if you want more John price stuff)

[hastalavistabyebye]

I've been thinking about it for quite some time (and it's a good thing my blog is so smol because a lotta people ain't going to like this) but we need to be honest for two seconds. Fox wouldn't be hated for killing Fives.

It's not the simple usual take on how Fox didn't fired right away and tried to calm Fives down first, how he was just doing his job. This is true but it goes deeper even.

The clones were taught how to deal with traitors.

We saw it with Rex when he met Cut Lawquane. He was faced with a deserter and his first reaction wasn't one of peaceful understanding at all, quite the contrary. Of course he let him go and live with his family in the end. (Interesting to note that there were no officer present too) But what's interesting is not the conclusion he made, but his instinctual, learned behavior : deserters = traitors = bad.

And during the Umbara arc, we saw that the clones also learned how to form a firing squad. They knew how to do that. Yes, in the end, again, they ended up letting their siblings live but there also was the aspect that they already doubt Krell's orders AND that this situation was clearly, stupidly unfair and wrong. And they didn't like nor trust the general himself already. So it was an easy order to go against. But then again what is interesting is that they knew how to do that.

The idea of the Vode not knowing or even being able to conceive shooting a brother, even less killing one, is very sweet but sadly not true. They are soldiers first, born and trained. They would not look kindly to traitors and deserters. They would also know how to court martial the formers, even (or maybe especially) if it's other clones.

All of this to say that Fox killing Fives after he tried to kill the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic ? The highest ranking person in the entire Republic ? And he was also armed, dangerous and out of control AND didn't listen to attempts at calming him. In all of those conditions, very little people would bat an eye to Fox taking those actions.

The only people that would hate Fox are the people close to Fives -Rex and Torrent, Cody and some of the 212th too maybe, by proxy, and Anakin. The Jedi would frown at this, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka maybe more than the rest and would be more affected, because they were close to Fives too.

But the rest of the GAR ? Well of course some won't see it with a kind eye because there's always people to tell you they would have done better, but globally they wouldn't mind so much. Because what Fox did was something they had been, in fact, trained for.

And even if there was a GAR/Guard divide, it wouldn't be this event that make everything goes from bad to worse. It might be one more critic on Fox, it might not be taken kindly. But in the end it would be more because it's Fox and they don't-like-Fox, more than the killing a brother part.

Okay this is longer than I thought it would be 😅 but my point still is : the Vode are soldiers first and foremost. They don't act under the same values and morals as us at all. They were trained to kill enemies of the Republic. If those enemies were among the Republic didn't change a thing. If those enemies were fellow clones didn't change a thing, they were trained to kill them too. So Fox only doing his job in that instant also means that a lot of other Clone Commanders would have done the very same as him. Maybe not all of them, sure (it can depend from their generals) (which Fox don't have from what we know). But maybe some of them wouldn't even have tried to resonate with Fives at all.

The point is : the GAR wouldn't have hate Fox for this. If they hated him, killing Fives wasn't the reason, nor even the starting point most likely.

[punksdoll]

Heyyyy, saw you didn’t have anything for Cody, so allow me to be the first 😈

I actually have two prompts, you can pick either!

So for this I just want some really sure fluff ! So imagine the reader is an idol of some sort who is always busy, but finally she decides to take a break and surprise Cody at his house one day.

For the other one, the reader is a wrestler with Cody and is about to fight in the ring when shinsuke comes up and attacks her with his mist. (This would be in a mixed tag team match so watching Cody loose it because shinsuke hurt his girl, etc etc)

Tyyyy I hope you have a wonderful day :3!

~~~𝑴𝒚 𝑾𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏~~~

gif not mine like, comments, & reblogs appreciated

𝑪𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝑹𝒉𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ^owner of gif

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝑪𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆

𝒂/𝒏: 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒇𝒂𝒓, 𝒊 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒕<𝟑 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚𝒆𝒅<𝟑

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒄𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕, 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇, 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔

not proofread

“You ready baby?” Cody walks up behind y/n who is adding the final touches on her eye makeup.

“Mhm…” Y/n says as she tries to keep herself steady with the little american flag on her eye to represent it for her boyfriend.

Recently there has been a feud going between Cody and Shinsuke. Add that to Y/n having her own problems with damage cntrl, Adam Pearce thought it would be a good idea for the couple to pair up with each other to take on Shinsuke and a member of Damage Control, to add on to their feud and make it more interesting for the fans.

“You should do something for me as well.” Cody smiles as he watches y/n put her makeup away.

“Like what?” Y/n looks over at her boyfriend with a raised eyebrow.

“Your initial.” Cody smirks, “So everyone knows I’m yours,” he winks.

She chuckles before grabbing her ink eye liner and bringing his face closer to carefully do her initial. “There, all pretty now.” She gives his cheek a kiss.

“Great, now we’re ready.” He lays his hand on y/n’s lower back right as one of the crew comes over and reminds them both that it’s almost time.

“Our first mixed tag team match,” y/n starts as she walks in front of Cody while he trails behind her with his hand still on her lower back, “we got this, yes we do. Everything will go just right and we’re gonna win. No trouble.” Y/n hypes them up, more for herself than him.

“Yes, yes they will.” Cody gives her a kiss right as his music starts playing.

•••

Everything was going well. The match was running smoothly getting the crowds reaction here and there, no distractions, no interference. It was perfect for them both.

Until it wasn’t that is.

It was y/n and Asuka that were tagged in. Taking blows left to right, right to left, etc etc. It was going well. Y/n kept watching her back for any of the other damage control members to appear and distract her. She knew it was coming, she knew it was…she just didn’t think it was going to turn out…horribly.

Y/n had hit her signature move adding onto her finisher. She rushed over to pin Asuka and to catch the win for her and her boyfriend until Bayley intervened.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Bayley rushes into the ring, immediately catching the referee’s attention as she stops counting and rushes over to Bayley to get her out of there.

“What the hell!” Y/n rushes up next to the referee and yells at Bayley, “Get the hell out you dog! Get out.” Y/n shouted at Bayley, shaking her head.

“I got it, I got it.” The ref tells y/n who rolls her eyes and turns herself back towards her opponent.

She expected something was to come when she did. She expected Asuka to be the one to mist her, she expected Asuka to be the one to attack her.

She absolutely and most certainly did not expect her boyfriend’s rivalry, Shinsuke Nakamura, to be the one to mist her.

She had turned around and was immediately misted in the face by Shinsuke thanks to the distraction by the referee. The crowd lets out gasps and some even cursing out as they watched Shinsuke mist her and immediately roll out of the ring before the referee could see what he did. Once he’s out of the ring he lets out a laughter as Asuka does her signature move and pins y/n down, catching the win for the both of them.

Cody rushes over to Y/n almost immediately as Asuka rushes outside of the ring with Shinsuke next to her, both staring at the couple with big grins as they soak in their victory. Cody was raging. All he wanted to do was get out of that ring and give Shinsuke the beating of his life but he knew that his woman needed him there.

“It fucking burns! Oh my god.” Y/n shouts out as Cody immediately places a towel on her eyes.

“It’s gonna be ok. You’re gonna be ok.” He soothes her, “Keep it on your eyes.” He picks her up and rushes her backstage and towards the medical.

•••

“What were you thinking when you decided to mist your rival’s woman?” The interviewer asks Shinsuke after the match had ended.

“Victo-.” Shinsuke is almost immediately cut off as he is tackled from behind by Cody Rhodes.

Cody is fuming with rage as he sends punches left and right on Shinsuke and throwing him against some chairs. He grabs one of those chairs and starts repeatedly hitting Shinsuke with it. Making sure it hits his upper and lower body all at the same time before referees could come rushing out and trying to stop him.

“No…” Cody shakes his head as he grabs Shinsuke and drags him over to where those chairs had fallen and hits his finisher, Cross Rhodes, making Shinsuke land on the chairs.

Referees drag him away almost immediately as they all yell at him to stop. Cody raises his hands up in surrender, slowly backing up. “Don’t you ever lay your shit on my woman.” He threatens before walking away completely.

•••

Y/n smiles immediately as Cody walks into the medical room after his altercation with Shinsuke that she had just watched.

“You ok?” Cody cups her face that’s stained with red.

“I’m better now, now that you gave him a good ass beating for me.” Y/n says with a grin, giving him a kiss, “Thank you cariño.”

“Anything for my woman.” Cody smiles and gives her multiple pecks on the lips.

[0h0possum]

Codywan Headcanon/AU that lives rent free in my head

I think my favorite codywan headcanon/AU is that they are just so good at being professional and discreet when they need to, for literal years, that no one knows they are a thing.

Like my favorite idea of codywan is that they both agree their duties and obligations come first. Honestly they kinda deal with it like a business contract. They sit down and agree: yes they have feelings for each other, yes they want to be together, yes they want as much as a relationship as they can get now since they both never know when one of them might die, yes they need to put their war duties first, yes Obi-wan will always put his Jedi duties first, yes Cody will always put protecting and creating a future for his brothers first, yes the will keep this relationship under raps as it could be under scrutiny for breaking GAR and Jedi rules, yes they will only act as a couple when off duty.

They are just the opposite of Anakin and Padme, no one knows about them. Cody and Obi-wan aren’t trying to hide it per say, they just are so good at being The Commander and The General that no one would ever think they were anything but professional coworkers and maybe friends. Even if there are signs they may be more, their friends and family overlook them because ‘Cody’s too strict about following the regs to be interested in a relationship’ or ‘Obi-wan is too focused on being a model Jedi and following the Code to be in a relationship’.

They are too good at balancing their lives and being ‘The Unproblematic Couple™’.

So when the war ends and they defeat Palpatine, save Anakin and get the clones rights (because we only Stan happy endings in this Codywan house), they both agree mutually to take a break.

Cody takes time to find himself away from the GAR and being The Commander. He spends time with his brothers and helping them all find their feet once they leave the GAR. He helps build a life for them all, while also taking time to find who he is besides a soldier.

Obi-wan spends time reconnecting with Anakin and Ahsoka, making amends with both of them. Getting to finally return to being a peacekeeper and not a General at war. I imagine he would maybe step down from the council to just be a simple Jedi. Not Master of Sorensu, youngest ever High council member, The Negotiator, General, or Sith Killer.

After their short break they agree to start meeting up again, seeing if they still feel the way they did about each other when not in the stressful environment of war and an army setting. But, lo and behold, they still of course love each other. (All the while everyone just assumes it’s Obi-wan and Cody meeting up as ex. Coworkers. They used to be the best of FRIENDS during the war)

After Obi-wan sees Anakin is fine (living with his wife and kids) and the rest of the Order isn’t in dire need of his help, and Cody sees his brothers are finding their feet in the world without need of his leadership, they both just decide they’ve been dating long enough (a few year during and after the war) and they’ve put other duties ahead of theirs relationship long enough.

They just fucking get married and buy a house. Obi-wan leaves the order and Cody moves away from his brother. And they just get married.

WHICH COMES OUT OF NOWHERE TO EVERYONE ELSE. Everyone’s like “??!!!”, “since when have you two ever been together?!”

And fucking Obi-wan and Cody (with biggest deadpan older brother energy) just say “oh yeah, since like the middle of the war? We thought you guys knew? It just never came up in conversation?”

Just absolutely bamboozling everyone in their lives. Rex and Anakin both are like “YoU nEvEr ThOuGhT tO tElL mE? YoUr BrOtHeR?”. Cue Obi-wan and Cody vaguely shrugging and saying ‘there were more important things going on’.

But yeah I just like the idea of Cody and Obi-wan jump scaring their families with their relationship.

[fynsh]

Everyone has a special talent they are admired for but Fox just keeps pretending

Fox may not have Cody's brilliant tactical mind, Wolffe's great resilience, Bly's incredible adaptability or Pond's patient emotional genius, but all CCs - to a certain extent - shared qualities that enabled them to inspire brothers to follow them into any battle. They didn't brag about it but over the course of the war the GAR clearly noticed their commanders and ranking officers excelling in difficult missions, paving new ways by taking personal risks and eventually creating methods better than reg standards.

Fox batchers were aware nobody could outmatch him in his directional subtlety. Other would have called him manipulative but that didn't sit right with them. He used his talent to support his brothers, not to harm them. The batch knew their youngest brother was always able to catch what went unnoticed by others but they didn't always realize he could also hide anything in plain sight.

His ability to pretend was a gift morphing into a curse. Fox pretended to punish troopers ruthlessly while actually saving them from greater harm that could not be undone. It slowly turned into the GAR believing the Guard's Marshall Commander was a heartless und cruel Fierfek. Fox welcomed this portrayal to keep as many brothers as far away from the Guard's grounds as possible. His fellow Guard commanders started feeding into the narrative by joining forces with him and stripping their men of their individual armor paints. Better to keep everyone away from 000 and endure the hostility of the ones you were designated to protect on your own.

During the first year of the war his brothers tried to counteract the rumors spreading about Fox and his Guard. They knew him as a sensible and protective brother so there had to be reasoning to his actions. Fox didn't bother to elaborate. The constant deployments kept the batch apart and messages from the front lines became few and far in between.

Fox hadn't been in contact with the GAR outside of official business for months now. Until news of his oldest brother being shot by a cadet pinged on his comm. The whole incident was kept off the datapads so he wasn't able to read up any additional info. Fox felt an icicle lodge into his trachea. He rushed to the healing wards as he was ordered to accompany High General Windu safely back and forth between checking on his units and talking to the Chancellor.

General Windu was whispering to a healer from the Jedi temple who he seemed to have put in charge of taking care of his heavily injured commander. Standing in front of the bacta tank was a cadet in non standard clothing, his shoulders set straight under the thick natborn style robes and his face turned up towards the lifeless face distorted by the gelatinous healing substance. Reflected in the thick transparisteel Fox noticed a familiar blank stare and lips set into a thin line. The cadet was clearly pretending to not be affected by looking into the face of a practically dead brother. What was he doing here, alone and away from his brigade?

General Windu turned towards the Guard and signed for them to wait for further instructions. They saluted in perfect unison and kept their position. Behind his helmet Fox eyes drifted to the figure suspended in bacta. His heart rate was dangerously slow, his usual exhaustion drowned by the anguish crawling up his spine trying to claw its way out through his clenched teeth and part his lips unbidden. When was the last time he had seen his brother face to face?

The hole inside his chest kept growing and churning and he barely kept it beneath the surface when running on no sleep and food, only caf. However, there was no use in dwelling on past decisions and paths diverging. He didn't regret keeping his batchmates away. Fox knew with them around the smallest outwardly shown signs could endanger their carefully crafted image, his brothers weren't dumb and maybe the Jedi were actually as perceptive as he was led to believe by reports and talks inside of the GAR.

So Fox pretended to be indifferent. He was okay. As the Head of the Jedi Order eventually started moving towards them and addressed Fox personally with unprompted reassurance of his brother being in the most capable hands, the Marshall Commander only thanked him formally and on behalf of the clones for going beyond standard measures to save Republic property. Windu seemed taken aback before swiftly moving out of the healing wards without sparing another look at the Guard falling in step behind him. Fox didn't look back at the two brothers staying behind. He still felt the heavy stare at the back of his bucket. Everything was fine.

Ponds definitely would have picked up on the atypical stiffness in Fox' gait, but his oldest brother might not call him out on his bluffs ever again.

I'm not sure about this drabble as it took a different direction than I intended. It also doesn't properly convey the desperation of reaching your goal of keeping as many people as possible safe from harm at the expense of your own safety net