#his hands-off approach to shipping conversations is comforting to me

[umbravirtus]

Hans chuckled softly at Anna’s playful slip of the tongue, his expression lightening with amusement. “No problem, Bob—er, I mean Anna,” he teased gently, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint, though there was still a sincerity behind his words.

He gave her an encouraging smile, his tone softer now. “I appreciate that, Anna. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to expect from this conversation, but I’m glad we’ve been able to find some ground to stand on. You’re right—it’s a start, and maybe that’s all we need right now.”

He stood up as she did, offering a small bow in response to her mention of dinner. “Dinner sounds… good. Near Oaken’s, you say? I’ll be there, whenever you’re ready.”

As she took his hand, Hans felt a warmth spread through him, more genuine than anything he’d felt in a long time. When she squeezed it, he squeezed back, feeling a sense of peace in the simple connection.

Unbeknownst to him, his thoughts about the townspeople echoed hers. He already felt somewhat accepted—it was a good sign. One step at a time, for everything, he supposed. He realized there was a comfortable silence between them. His instinct was to break it, but he paused for a moment and then added, “And, Anna… thank you. For giving me this chance. It means more than you know.” More than he could say.

He watched her walk off, her figure receding in the distance, and for the first time in a long while, Hans felt a sense of hope—a flicker of something better ahead.

A few days passed in much the same rhythm: Hans worked as hard as he could, and when it was time to sleep, he headed toward the accommodations with the other workers. He’d seen Anna a few times, but for the most part, they were like ships passing in the night. Occasionally they worked together briefly, but Anna was often called away—whether as Queen, the strongest among them, or even to handle matters that required Hans’ woodworking skills and quick thinking.

Hans was finally making friends, seen as an equal, which was new for him. He was teasing more, playing more, and smiling more.

This particular evening, as he wiped the sweat from his brow, and everyone delighted in the fact that another building was completed and steady progress had been made, he spotted Anna and saw his opportunity to approach her.

“So… is that offer for dinner near Oaken’s still on the table?” he asked, curious. “If you’re too busy today, that’s fine, of course.”

Anna winced as she heard the other almost let out a pained sound despite being so good natured about it, and she had to give a weak crooked grin of 'I'm sorry' that was written all over her freckled face.

Yeah, it was still hard getting used to being so careful about her strength, especially when she tended to not think before acting. Elsa had always told her that there are times that Anna would be very reckless when it comes to her strength, particularly when Anna would have a rare temper when it came to her older sister. An example of this was when Elsa was still in ruling for that one year of being Queen, during one delegate meeting of someone giving a side comment about Elsa's powers and her capabilities of being a ruler...

Well, that day Anna had broken a very old and very rare Arendelle mahogany table in two...

At the comment of being tough, she huffed, "Darn right I am! I mean...well, I gotta be..."

And then the words...about Hans' family.

Indeed, she did remember back then that he would talk about his twelve older brothers, and the many times they would be sorta, kinda, mean to him (these were those that were around his age), and Anna had lamented about Elsa....

Thinking back now, it sounded like she was indeed an immature whining brat, and that thought made Anna wince a bit.

And then the hug came and Anna's brain broke for a second. It was like a scratch of the musical record player that Elsa plays sometimes during their game nights, making the red head almost stiffen.

Anna took a moment to gather her thoughts, and soon wrapped her own arms awkwardly around him, patting his back and rested her chin on his shoulder in the hug, nodding her head, "S-sure...I mean, no prob, Bob....I mean Hans--"

She mental smacked herself at the cringe worthy slip of the tongue, but then leaned back for a moment and observed his face. Her eyes softened at seeing those eyes full of long time regret and...a sense of relief and sincerity.

She smiled up at him, and then let out a small and soft laugh, "Thank you too...I mean, for this talk. It is good that we managed to at least get some closure out of this. Maybe not all of it, but it's a start..."

At the sound of her name being called, Anna tilted her head as she saw that one of the workers were in need of her, and she looked back at Hans with another happy smile.

"Duty calls. And um...if you ever do want to talk more, we could...maybe do so around dinner time? N-Not at the Palace, but I do know a good place near Oaken's..."

One step at a time, Anna knew that everyone does deserve a second chance for a change. It will be a slow process since trust is a shaky grounds as of this moment...but she knew that at least this was a good turning point for the both of them.

Now...at least they could close the chapter of their messy past and start anew. Especially when Hans has been working hard as she had observed today. And she hoped that he will continue to do so.

'Besides, it seems like the townspeople are warming up to him already, despite the earlier worries...' She would think, taking Hans' hand and squeezed it gently before walking off and waving at him before her thoughts continued, 'I should write to Elsa about today's events...oh! Also gotta write to Kristoff..I hope he and Sven arrived in that other Kingdom for his ice business safely~'

[automaticdata]

Me with Scar's red Secret Life skin: ah, that's neat, it's a reference to desert duo in Third Life. Scar probably doesn't know the significance of the flowers, though, it's kind of a niche fandom thing and Scar tries to distance himself from shipping talk.

Scar in Wild Life session 5: Yeah, the flowers I got for Grian in Third Life were definitely poppies and lilacs.

Me:

[k9wa]

𑣲 RENEWAL. ft. DAN (F)HENG

⠀ — it is not he that is familiar to you, nor you to him.

⠀ OR

⠀ — time and reincarnation aren’t enough to ever make you truly forget each other.

⚠︎ angst if you squint, fluff, mild hsr spoilers? thank u to the high cloud quintet for having the most heart breaking lore, i listened to memory by toby fox on repeat while writing this.

dan heng wasn’t sure what to feel when his eyes met yours.

familiarity? no, that’s not possible. he’s never met you.

nostalgia? no, that too was not possible. he cannot name one person who your eyes could possibly remind him of.

…what was it? what was it that had left dan heng unable to will his gaze to move somewhere else? surely the intense eye contact was leaving you uncomfortable, even he was beginning to feel squirmy in his own skin as you stared back at him with an equal intensity.

dan heng can feel something in the deepest pit of his mind, leaking down and adding to the tense knot in his gut. 

yet, the feeling isn’t…unwelcome.

it’s warm. it’s akin to a comforting hand on his shoulder, or a small squeeze to his fingers. he could not, no matter how hard he tried, recall a time such a sensation had left him so utterly speechless. 

“dan heng?”

it’s welt’s voice that finally pulled him out of his trance, his eyes blinking rapidly a few times before he turned his head to look at the older man.

“sorry. what was that?”

dan heng shook his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts of you. what was your name again? yukong had just informed him. not that he was really listening, anyway.

the conversation between his crew and the sky-faring commissions helm master continued on, talk of stellarons and something about the cloud knight’s general. dan heng couldn’t seem to focus despite his efforts.

another voice calls out to him just before he can depart alongside caelus and march, however this time it is not the deep and rough voice of his companion, but one that is much sweeter, and seems to strike a chord somewhere within him.

“dan heng?”

he turns around and is once more met with your eyes. dan heng willed himself to blink and nod before he could be entranced by them once more.

“i apologize, but…”

you trailed off before you were able to get the words out of your mouth, and there you found yourself back in the odd silence the two of you had just broken out of.

“…have we met before?”

you asked, and it finally clicked with dan heng where he had seen only snippets and flashes of you before.

my dreams, he thought. the dreams that haunted him night in and night out, but would occasionally grant him just a glance of a peaceful memory.

“no. we haven’t.”

you’re an amicassador of the sky-fairing commission, one brought on board long after he was banned from the ship that you called home. your meeting at any point before now would have been impossible.

yet, his mind drifts to the occasional memory he has only when deep in slumber.

“yingxing gifted me this.”

he looks down at you, head in his lap as you pull a small jade coin out of your pocket, a fine “永” carefully carved into the surface.

“he has too much time on his hands now that jing yuan is growing.”

your chuckle is soothing to his ears, the sound like a balm applied directly to his soul.

your face is unclear, almost as if his eyes are unfocused. yet your voice is unmistakable.

“i don’t disagree.”

is all he responds, fingers idly pushing a few stray hairs behind your ear as he looks down at you. although he can’t see it, he can feel the grass he and you reside on, smell the pollen off the fresh flowers the breeze blows towards him, can feel the sun on his skin.

“you’re sure?” you question again, voice just as calming as he was sure he’d imagined until now.

“you just—“ you chuckle a bit, almost awkwardly. “—seem so familiar, is all.”

you try to approach the topic subtly, but you truly did know him. from your own dreams, the ones you had that woke you in a cold sweat from just how real and jarring they felt, regardless of whether they were mild or sweet in nature. they conjured such emotion in you.

“baiheng was telling me of reincarnation.”

you muse to him, sitting with one hand on the ground just over his crossed legs, leaving you leaning across him.

“do you believe in such a thing?”

“of course.”

he nods, hand naturally finding it’s place on your waist.

“don’t you?”

“i don’t think so.”

you reach your free hand out to play mindlessly with the silver trim of his robes.

“it’s a nice thought, though.”

dan feng can only hum quietly.

“some day,” he began, drawing your attention back up to his face. “after i reach my end, i’ll come back to find you.”

the small tug of his lips could only be described as a smirk, but it felt softer than that.

“to prove it to you.”

you tilt your head teasingly, brow cocked.

“how will you recognize me?” “I would know you blind.”

he can feel his chest warm as you smile at him.

“i’ll hold you to that.”

“sorry.” dan heng bowed his head lightly. 

“but we haven’t met before.”

he was being truthful, you hadn’t. it was your past lives that you two had been acquainted, had formed a bond so strong that it appeared to have transcended death itself.

dan heng did not wish to have dan feng’s deeds or past haunt him any more than they already do. the urge he felt to sit and talk with you, to perhaps hold your hand or touch your face would surely only lead him down a path he’d apparently gone down centuries ago.

“right.”

you nod at him, bowing yourself.

“sorry to keep you, it was nice to meet you.”

dan heng was released and regrouped with his crew, march and caelus bickering about something or the other and walking ahead of him. he decided to stay a bit further behind with welt.

his decision quickly regretted when welt gave him a knowing look, the lines on the older man’s forehead deepening as his eyebrows pushed together.

“you know them.”

“i know who they used to be. that’s all.”

welt can read the room well enough to know to end the topic there. dan heng had never enjoyed or been keen on talking of dan feng, and being back on the xianzhou alone had already left him with an unusual tension in his shoulders.

even as he walked away, moving up to engage in conversation with the sillier two of the quadrant, dan heng couldn’t shake you from his head. your smile, the way you held yourself as yukong introduced you, the small laugh that he had not expected would weave itself so deeply in his chest.

he kept walking on anyway. dan heng was not him.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[liaragaming]

Did Solas and Lavellan do it?

I made a post a while back about my changing thoughts on whether or not Solas and my Lavellan did the deed, and I did not word it well, so let me try again.

It is 1000% up to Lavellan whether or not they slept together.

The entire Solas romance is him trying to hold back and then failing his Will save every time she touches him. He is incapable of denying her when her hands are on him. That is the important factor all of this hinges on.

It depends entirely on how YOUR Lavellan would have approached the subject.

If things just got hot and heavy one evening with kisses and touches and maybe a little champagne (looking at Solas being tipsy and perhaps a little too relaxed at the Winter Palace), then that man is doomed. Whether he would have preferred to have held back, it wouldn't matter. He would be incapable of thinking things through in the heat of the moment. We have seen that as a canonical fact.

But, if your Lavellan would have had a conversation about it and given Solas time to voice his concerns (like he does after the Fade kiss), and she acknowledges that and decides to wait until he's comfortable and is certain to make 100% sure he's comfortable with it before going through with anything, then Thank the Maker for Lavellan being the responsible one in this relationship.

It's Lavellan, not Solas who decides.

That was honestly the switch for me. Because my very first playthrough, I was picking up vibes during the Winter Palace quest line. And I had the idea in my head of Solas having a thought in the middle of things of "Wait. We shouldn't do this." And only recently have I realized - Nah, honey. The two of you have got a room. Half your clothes are off. You are already gone. You're going to have fun in the morning after the adrenaline and the champagne has worn off.

So yeah, Inan and Solas totally smashed because that's what she wanted and she thought he wanted it too, and they didn't have a conversation about it beforehand. And honestly, if asked in the heat of the moment, I think he'd say yes anyway because, of course, he would want this even if he would prefer to hold back. The question is if he would hesitate and if she'd pick up on it.

My point is, YOUR Lavellan completely steers the ship in this matter.

And if she's impulsive and not the kind to approach Solas beforehand and have a conversation about it when his mind isn't already clouded with longing, Creators help them both.

[sonamytrash]

Just friends, right?

❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃

Just a Levi × reader fluff, some of the gang catch a glimpse of Levis softer side.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, fem reader deacribed, semi public displays of affection, Christa is a fangirl, the aot characters ship levi x reader.

❃°•°❀°•°❃•❃°•°❀°•°❃

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting an amber hue across the landscape as the scouts had the opportunity to have an evening of rest and relaxation following a day of training. Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Sasha, Connie, Jean, Ymir, Reiner, and Christa were gathered on a hill overlooking the stables, watching as you tended to the horses. The gentle sway of your hips and rhythmic movement as you worked were almost hypnotic, drawing the group's gaze like moths to a flame. Their eyes followed your every movement, even as they engaged in idle conversation about their day's training. It was then that they noticed Levi approaching you from across the field, his stride purposeful and determined.

Ymir and Christa exchanged knowing glances as they all observed the exchange between you both.

"There they go again," Ymir snickers, nodding in the direction of the two figures. "I swear, it's like they can't keep their hands off each other."

"Hey, Ymir," Sasha began, trying to gauge her friends reaction. "You think Levi and y/n are...?"

"He's probably just going to ask her about her day," Armin ventured, trying not to encourage any gossip. But even as he spoke, a blush crept up onto his cheeks. "I mean, they're just friends, right?"

Jean raised his eyebrow at Armin. "When has the captain ever asked anyone about their day?."

Ymir smirked, her eyes fixed on you and Levi. "Oh, come on, Armin. You're supposed to be smart, you know better than that." She said, teasing the innocent blonde.

Christa cleared her throat, a fond smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "It's sweet, really," she mused. "But, they're definitely more than friends. She is the first person he goes to see after a mission."

"Probably to make up for lost time." Ymir replies with a sly smile. "If you know what I mean."

Armin's cheeks flushed redder as he glanced over at the two of you, Ymirs comment making his imagination run wild.

Eren, on the other hand, was still confused. "Wait, what do you mean, 'they're more than friends?" he asked, his brow furrowing. He turned to face Ymir as she continued to watch you both with interest.

"Oh, come on, Eren," Reiner teased. "You can't tell me you haven't noticed the way they look at each other. It's obvious they're more than just friends."

Jean couldn't help but sigh with a jealous frown, watching as you and Levi spoke. "Yeah, but what does she see in him?" he muttered under his breath. "She is such a beautiful, intelligent, and kind woman." He rests his head in his hand, "and he's such a grumpy, short, old man." He says with a pout playing on his lips.

As if on cue, you let out a girlish giggle in response to something Levi had said. The group collectively sucked in a breath, their eyes wide with surprise. "I guess she doesn't mind his grumpy old man act," Reiner remarked with a chuckle.

"You mean like, in love?" Connie cut in, his voice a mix of curiosity and disbelief. A little slow to the conversation.

"I think they are," Mikasa said quietly, a small blush painted accross her cheeks.

The group fell silent as they watched you both converse, your bodies comfortably close together. Suddenly, you lean in closer to Levi, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered something that made the usually stoic man blush.

The gesture was so intimate, so familiar, that it left the group speechless. Even from a distance, they could see Levi's cheeks flush red as his eyes meet yours. You seemed to revel in the effect you were having on him, teasing him with your eyes and the gentle brush of your fingers against his arm.

"Oh my god, Captain Levi is blushing." Christa squeeled her eyes wide with excitement, propping herself onto her knees. "Do you think they're going to kiss!? I mean, they're totally in love, and I just know they're going to kiss right now!" she gushed, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink.

"He's never like this," Reiner mused, studying Levi's face. "I mean, I've seen him angry, and I've seen him determined, but this... this is something else entirely." The others nodded in agreement, their attention fixed on you both as you conversed.

Ymir nudged Armin, her grin widening, "See? I told you."

As if to prove her point, Levi leaned in even closer, his hand moving up to rest on your hip, the gesture bold and possessive. The others couldn't help but hold their breath as they watched, transfixed by the scene unfolding before them. Sasha, her cheeks flushed a deep red, whispered, "I didn't know Levi had it in him." Reiner chuckled, "Neither did I."

Connie whistled lowly, impressed by the display of affection. "Who knew Levi was such a romantic?" He muttered under his breath. Eren snorted, his cheeks flushed pink. "Oh, come on. You don't think they're really...?" His voice trailed off, his gaze fixed on the couple before them. Ymir laughed, "Oh, they're definitely doing more than just talking," she assured him.

The group watched as Levi pulled back slightly, his hands moving up to cup your face. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear.

Christa covers her face, blushing furiously. "They're so cute together," she squeels, watching you both with a dreamy expression. "It's like they're the only two people in the world right now.".

Sasha glanced over at Ymir, a mischievous grin playing at the corners of her lips. "So, Ymir," she said, her voice low and teasing, "what do you think they're like in the bedroom?."

"I bet they go at it like a couple of alley cats every night behind closed doors." Ymir smirks.

When your lips finally met, the group let out a collective gasp, their eyes wide with wonder. As they watched Levis hand travel lower, cupping your behind before pulling you against him, causing you to let out a soft moan.

Armin stands up, blushing furiously. "I think that's enough for one evening!." He exclaims, waving his arms frantically to obscure the groups view. "But it's just getting good!" Sasha protests, trying to move him aside.

"I agree with Armin. If the captain finds out we were watching..." His face turns deathly pale. "He'll kill us."

[emoani]

pairing: darth vader x f!reader

warnings : good vader, too much use of the word wife, burned vader, cute, needy reader, kiss on the cheek, kiss on the mouth, communication problems

brazilian portuguese version is here

▪︎behind the mask▪︎

Darth Vader turns to you, showing just how imposing he really is, his cold gaze piercing your skull. He looks at you waiting for you to say something, since you appeared in his private room. But her courage to talk to him was gone when she glared at him. You wanted to get closer, but you couldn't and he didn't make an effort either.

"You may speak, wife," he says, tilting his head a little, hoping to hear her voice.

You clear a throat that feels dry, wiping the sweat from your hands on your dress. Anyone looking might think it was fear, but you were actually anxious.

"I just…wanted to know if you were still too busy." His voice is low and reluctant.

Darth Vader descends from his throne and approaches you. Damn, damn... his heart is racing.

- Tell the truth. Something happened?

- I just wanted... I thought I'd spend some time with you - you say, regretting hearing your own voice saying that it seemed, very silly - I've been feeling alone and without friends on your ship.

Darth Vader, for a brief moment, pauses. A small spark of doubt, of empathy, crosses Darth Vader's face as he remembers his own childhood... of being alone, of having no one.

- I should have realized that was what you wanted - he says still surprised - It seems that my generals and my stormtroopers are more consumed by the dark side than I am... They are not so patient.

You laugh and it makes your shoulders slump a little, feeling lighter.

- It's not like they feel like talking to me either... You know, you can be quite intimidating when you want to be.

- Yes... yes - He puts his hands on his belt as he walks around the room, seeming to think of something that almost makes him forget you're there. Vader looks out over the horizon of Mustafar as the lava glows orange and reflects off his suit. He turns to you again.

- Have I been a good husband?

That question takes you by surprise, you never thought he would mind asking you something like that, so you think long and hard before you speak. Then take the opportunity to be honest, he would know anyway if he was lying.

- Actually... I wish we could spend more time together...

Vader seems willing to redeem himself, remembering that in fact it was true, you didn't spend time together and he barely saw you. It was like he wasn't there. Vader, with surprising tenderness, reaches out and caresses his shoulders.

- Wife... - He wants to talk, but it's hard to express himself so it takes longer than expected - let's go somewhere more relaxing. We can observe the lava flow. Maybe I'll show you my softer side.

You agree with a smile, even though you don't know what he means by "smooth". Even if that place didn't have one of the most beautiful landscapes, you accept it for his company.

Vader walks you to his private quarters. He enters and motions for you to enter too. Despite its intimidating size, the chamber was surprisingly comfortable. It is richly decorated, with a mixture of woods and rich fabrics. There are comfortable places to sit and relax. He starts walking towards the window, looking out at the lava flows.

- This place couldn't be more like you - you try to make conversation.

- I hope this room is to your liking and that it helps make this Stronghold more like a home for you - His rather robotic voice says, his breathing heavier than usual - I must admit that I have become very fond of you, wife.

- true? - You smile - I know I can seem a little closed off sometimes.

vader agrees

- Yes. I'm learning to appreciate your company, wife.

He gets up and sits on the edge of the window and motions for you to follow him.

- Come, sit next to me.

You are silent for a while, watching the lava flows. Just his breath and his. This is not bothersome.

- So here with you.... everything seems more intimate - you say and end up looking at your dark and shiny mask, and you say thinking too loudly - I just wanted to ask you something...

- Yes? What is it, wife? - Vader becomes tense and anxious.

- I would like you to take off your mask. I'd like to see my husband like no one else does - you keep your voice down and look down, afraid he'll get pissed off.

He stands up, his hand shaking slightly. He stays still for a while, and you think he'll go away. You are about to open your mouth to apologize.

- Promise that this will be a private matter between us?

You stand up and place your hand over his, even though he is much taller you crane your neck to look into his eyes from behind the mask.

- Here inside this room, it's just the two of us - you say.

Darth Vader, with great reluctance and apprehension, removes his mask. It makes a soft sound when he removes it, the only sound in the room, the wash outside.

The mask drops to the floor. Vader is visibly nervous. His face has scars, yes, many. But you can't find him ugly. You already loved him. It is clear that he is ashamed of his face. He's scared of how you're going to react. You take one of your hands to his face, touching him softly and lovingly.

- Thanks for showing yourself to me. I know I will never fill her whole heart, because there was someone else before me. But I tell you the truth, you own my heart. Completely .

Darth Vader's soft, tremulous and surprised voice with his confession barely manages to answer you.

- In time... maybe I can show you more...

Darth Vader moves to put his mask back on, but you manage to stop him just in time. His touch is gentle but firm. You stand on your toes and almost lose your balance, which makes you rest your hands on his chest. Before you know what you're doing your lips have touched his cheek.

He, seemingly frozen, slowly turns and looks at you.

- Y-you kissed me. - he whispers. He looks like he feels scared and… something else.

You can only smile as you whisper a shy yes.

-I've wanted to do this for a long time. Since we got married you won't even let me near... I thought you hated me - you admit it.

Vader pauses. He seems to be in conflict with himself. He means what he feels. He wants to open up to you. His eyes are focused on his hand as you caress his face.

- I don't hate you, wife.

He leans in a little closer

- No?

- No, not me - he answers you almost in a whisper.

- please kiss me - you have the nerve to ask.

Vader pauses. He's close enough that he can lean in and kiss you. So he leans forward and kisses you softly, his scarred lips brushing against your soft ones. He pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around your waist and bringing you into his chest. He kisses you deeply, passionately and wonders why he hasn't done this before. The touch of his lips, his tongue, sends a shiver down your spine. He doesn't want to stop. He pulls you closer and closer, he holds you tightly, as if someone wants to take you away from him. His hand trails down his back, down his spine, sending a shock wave through his body. He kisses you even harder, his passion and desire for you growing with each passing second.

He doesn't have to try much harder for you to be a mess of suppressed sighs and moans.

Vader grabs her waist, but gently. He doesn't want to hurt you. He's holding you tightly, and despite his strength, he looks vulnerable. He is scared, nervous. He doesn't want to lose you. He runs his fingers down her back.

He breaks the kiss slowly and looks deeply into her eyes. His body is shaking, his face flushed, his breathing heavy. The man's expression is a mixture of surprise, fear, satisfaction. Your soft, gentle nature and kind heart have taken him by surprise, and he can't get you out of his mind.

And in the middle of it all, with your lips still almost glued to his, you say:

- I want you!

[cuubism]

Hope for the Future

~2k, Dreamling, 1589 era, post-Eleanor's death, dream conversations and revelations. cw death in childbirth

Dream and Hob meet at Eleanor's deathbed, in a fashion.

--

Ages ago I wrote Patron Saint, a fic about Hob's friendship with Death. For a while I wanted to write a companion piece from Dream's POV since Dreamling is a background ship in that fic but their trajectory is different from canon. But lbr it's been 2 years and I haven't done that-- early on, though, I did write one scene from Dream's POV because I wanted to flesh out a potential moment that Death mulls on in Patron Saint, when she was visiting Hob after Eleanor and the baby died:

“So many babies die,” Hob says. “Mothers, too, I—” he runs a hand through greasy, disheveled hair. “Do you think it will be better in the future? Because I haven’t seen that much improved. Not in my time.” “I imagine so, yes,” Death says. Dream would be able to answer this question for him better. Dream would be able to tell him what doctors might be imagining solutions to the problem, what midwives were dreaming of new ways to care for their charges. Hope for the future is Dream’s business, whether he accepts it or not. She wishes Dream were here. She has a strong feeling Hob would find even his stoic pretense at apathy comforting. Caring for others is strange like that.

Anyway I wanted that scene, I wrote that scene, I didn't write anything else to flesh out a companion piece but I think it stands on its own and can be understood even without reading the original fic.

--

Dream would assert that he did not care about Hob Gadling. He was not interested in Hob Gadling, beyond a passing curiosity in his approach to humanity, sated every hundred years. He was certainly not thinking about Hob Gadling, or his wife and small child and knighthood and other life goals he’d managed to accrue in this century. 

And yet, as he felt a particularly vicious nightmare go for Hob in his sleep, not long after their last meeting, he took note. 

He wasn’t sure why he took note. Perhaps because Hob had been on such a disgusting high last they’d met, it seemed strange for this to happen now. Perhaps because he knew this nightmare particularly well, had crafted it from deep in his own soul, as he so rarely did.

He followed the thread of the nightmare. 

Hob was running. Both from and after something at once. A darkness chased him. And another darkness retreated from him.

“Wait!” he yelled, reaching for it. Smoke slipped through his hands. Hob heaved for breath, stumbling to a stop as he ran out of air. He leaned on his knees, panting and coughing. “Wait,” he sobbed, but the darkness did not wait.

The other wave of darkness caught him, knocking him off his feet so he sprawled on the ground, hands scraping on the dirt. It didn’t attack him, just hovered over him like a blanket of fog, blocking the meager light. 

“You weren’t supposed to go,” Hob said into the darkness. It didn’t reply.

It was not an unreasonable nightmare for a father to have, Dream knew well enough. But the sharpness of those dark shadows – this nightmare was not pure fiction. It was drawing more from memory than he’d thought.

“Enough of this drama,” he commanded the nightmare. “Show me the truth of things.”

The scene of darkness faded to reveal an ordinary, if well-appointed bedroom. An air of sickness hovered, and death also – Dream could feel the echo of his sister near. 

A sickly woman, heavily pregnant, lay in the bed, and it was she that Dream knew was calling Death forth. She, and the tiny baby cradled in her womb, not quite ready to be born, and now would never be.

And Hob – not dying, he couldn’t, but he looked about as close to it as a man could come. Ashen, shaky, trembling.

“I love you,” he was saying, kissing Eleanor’s hand. “You know?”

This was still a dream, and this had all already occurred, Dream knew. There was nothing he could do here, not that he would. He turned to go, feeling stiff and cold in a way he decidedly did not like, when Hob looked up, and saw him.

Dream had not meant to be seen.

“My friend,” said Hob, surprise temporarily wiping the grief from his features. “You’re here.”

“I… am,” Dream conceded, and, drawn in despite himself, sat in a chair beside Hob. 

“I’m grateful for it,” said Hob. Dream didn’t know what he could possibly be providing that Hob was grateful for. Then, “There’s no hope, is there? I mean. I don’t know why I’d think you would know.”

Dream looked at the mother and baby before him. Hob had called him friend. A friend, he thought, would tell Hob that there was always hope. But that was not what Dream believed.

“I do not think so,” he said. “I am… sorry.”

Hob sighed. He was still holding Eleanor’s hand. “I have to tell you, I– whatever I might’ve said to you at our last meeting, I’m struggling to feel any of it right now.”

“That is understandable.” More understandable, Dream thought, than his declaration of Life is rich! that Dream had found so hard to swallow.

“I’ve known others who’ve lost wives, children,” Hob said, and Dream looked down. Hob would have no way of knowing who those others might have included. “But I guess I always thought, not me, never me, never my Eleanor. Not until she was old and gray, anyway. But I guess everyone thinks that, don’t they?”

“Perhaps.” Dream thought he himself had always known the cost would come due. Destiny might have said that was one of the reasons it did come due. You make your own end. But that would not help Hob.

“It’s got to get better,” Hob asserted. “It’s got to. It’s got to stop some day, doesn’t it? All these children, and mothers dying.”

The instinct to sneer at his optimism jumped up Dream’s throat, but he managed to bite it off. He did not want to be… cruel, he realized, to someone who was suffering. Especially within a dream; dreamers’ minds were not for him to subject to his own feelings.

“In Guangzhou,” he started slowly, the dreams coming to him like a light rainfall, “there is a doctor who has just crafted a new medicine to ease pain during childbirth. She has been dreaming of it for years. In Oyo, a healer is learning to tell earlier and earlier when a pregnancy is troubled, that they might intervene in time. A few months more, and they will have it. And down the street, here in London, a midwife is just planting the seeds for the hospital she will open to help unwed mothers with nowhere to turn.”

Hob stared at him. He seemed to be holding his breath.

“Dreamers abound,” Dream said, “but it takes time for their work to come to fruition.”

Hob continued to watch him. Something shifted in his eyes, as he looked at Dream. Dream wasn’t certain he liked it. 

“You know everything, don’t you?” Hob said.

“Not everything.”

“You know all of that,” Hob mused, “all these things that are happening. And… you still come to ask me if I wish to live?”

Dream bristled, and Hob raised his hands in surrender. “Never mind, never mind, forget I said anything. You’re entitled to your own feelings on the matter. Thank you, for those stories. It helps. Truly. And I’m glad that I’ll get to see it. One day.”

“‘One day,’” Dream echoed. “‘One day’ is a time when no children die and no famine walks the earth, when soldiers break their swords before the fight, and later bread with their enemies. One day is always one step into the future, Hob Gadling. Ever-moving.”

“Aye,” said Hob. “That’s the point.” 

Dream frowned. What pleasure could be derived from wanting and wanting, and never having, he could not fathom. He had crafted nightmares thus. What hope to find in hope itself continually being dashed?

“I look forward to seeing you every century, you know that?” Hob added. “No matter what else happens. Bad days, or good ones.”

Dream kept frowning, unsure of the connection.

“It’s important to have those things,” Hob said. He squeezed Eleanor’s still hand. “Even now. Especially now.” 

In Dream’s own… aftermath… he could not imagine finding comfort in anything. What help could some nebulous future date possibly be?

“If that is what helps you,” he said. 

Hob cast him a look like he just knew that Dream didn’t get it, and it rankled. But there was no true criticism in that look. Hob looked at him with an unfathomable fondness, always.

He turned back to Eleanor, just gazing at her face with an expression Dream found difficult to witness in its softness. Were this the waking world, she would have certainly passed by now. But moments could freeze indefinitely in the Dreaming.

“Do you think I’ll forget her?” Hob asked quietly, still looking at his wife. “The details of her face, I mean? Her voice? What she smelled like? My memory’s far from perfect, and there’s a lot of time for it to fade.”

Dream knew without having to actively make the vow to himself that he would be sending frequent dreams Hob’s way to ensure he did not. He should not do so. He should not interfere. 

But.

“There are some things one does not forget,” he said.

Hob swiped at his eyes. He was crying now. “S’pose you’re right.”

If Dream was any sort of friend – and he was not sure that he was, though Hob had declared him so – he would end this dream now and spare Hob any further torment of reliving this memory. 

Instead, he sat beside him, far longer than he intended. Sat in silence, listened to Hob’s breaths, his sniffles as he cried, the subtle movements of continued life. He stayed in this sea of human endings and sickness and grief. With Hob. Something unnameable sitting heavier and heavier within him. And more than once he told himself to rise and to end the dream, and he did not. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” Hob finally said, when much time had passed and they still sat side-by-side. And it was this that finally reminded Dream that he should not be.

“I should leave you,” he said, standing abruptly. “This dream is–”

“Wait.” Hob took his hand. Dream should– Dream should yank it away in offense. He should take his leave of Hob instantly for the familiarity, the daring. 

He did not. He merely stood frozen as Hob pressed his hand between both of his own. His touch was very warm.

“Keep all those things in mind,” Hob said. His eyes still glittered with tears, but his words were steady. “Those infinite things you know about the world. Wherever you’re going.”

“I have much in mind at all times,” Dream told him. Hob had no idea how much. 

Hob smiled at him sadly. “I’m sure. Just think about it, okay? Those doctors in those faraway places. Alright?”

Dream studied him, but gleaned no additional information from it. “Very well,” he said at last.

Hob squeezed his hand once more, then let him go.

A friend might comfort him again, in these circumstances. But Dream was not certain it was necessary. He could see in Hob, even now, the spine of a man who would not break, even when he was so far down.

It was… curious.

Hob bid him farewell, eyes just crinkling at the corners. “Until we meet again, dear stranger.”

Dream stepped back into the comforting arms of the Dreaming proper, discomfited by the moment in a way he could not quite pin down, and by his own willingness to stay and engage in it at all. To involve himself in Hob’s life in a way he had not intended. 

“Until then, Hob Gadling,” he said, letting the scene dissolve around them, “this dream is over.”

[juniperwoodwell]

Exhausted

Welcome to the first post of my Keanuverse writings! This was a request from @scarlettspectra! I gave myself the goal of 1k words for each character since I'm still learning how to write for them(which I achieved), it's not my best work but I had a ton of fun writing! I hope you enjoy!

Pairing(s): Neo (Thomas Anderson) x F!Reader. Aged up!Ted Theodore Logan x F!Reader. Tom Ludlow x F!Reader

Word count: 3,383k

WARNINGS: use of Y/n, Cursing, suggestive flirting, fluff, a bit of angst, minor references to death, aged up Ted (18-19), most likey OOC for all three.

Notices: For Tom's story it is written in first person. Not sure if they even count as fluff. And I'm not sure why all of them end with sleep... I'm just that exhausted I guess.

-

"Neo" Thomas Anderson.

“Where’s Y/n?” Neo’s voice cut through the hum of conversation in the rec room of their ship. Trinity's shrug was almost imperceptible, but Neo caught it.

“Where do you think?” She didn’t need to elaborate; they all knew Y/n's penchant for losing herself in her work. Neo nodded, understanding, and made his way to find her.

Y/n lay in a chair, her brow smoothed out in sleep, her breaths soft and even. Neo stood beside her, the dim lights casting shadows across her face. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the strands of her hair, a stark contrast to the constant chaos of their reality.

“What does she even do there?” Neo asked Morpheus, who had been waiting nearby.

The older man’s laugh rumbled low. “Whatever she wants. It’s her construct, her rules.”

Neo observed her for a moment longer before making his decision. “Want to join her?” Morpheus asked, knowing the answer already.

When Neo entered Y/n's construct, he was greeted by a world unlike anything he had seen in the Matrix. Towering skyscrapers were replaced by lush trees, the cacophony of the city silenced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds.

“Neo, what a surprise.” Y/n's voice reached him before he spotted her, nestled beneath a tree, bathed in the warm glow of simulated sunlight. He approached, the soft grass yielding beneath his boots. She patted the spot beside her, and Neo couldn't refuse. As he settled next to her, Y/n leaned against him, their connection tangible in the serene stillness.

“What are you working on?” Neo gestured towards the notebook nestled in her lap, his eyes lingering on the sketches and notes scrawled within its pages.

“Her,” Y/n replied softly, nodding towards a figure seated at a nearby picnic table, engrossed in a book.

“Your mother?” Neo asked, understanding dawning in his eyes.

Y/n nodded, her gaze distant. “Trying to capture her essence, her spirit. It’s proving more challenging than I anticipated.”

Neo pulled her closer, a silent understanding passing between them. He admired her resilience, her determination to resurrect a piece of her past.

“Tell me what you've achieved,” Neo encouraged, eager to share in her triumphs.

“Well, her physical appearance is mostly accurate, but...” Y/n trailed off, a shadow crossing her features. “But her presence, her aura... that’s proving elusive.”

Neo listened, his heart aching for her. Despite their reality, Y/n persisted in her quest for connection, for closure.

“I feel like I'm at my wit's end,” Y/n admitted, her frustration palpable.

Neo stood, offering his hand. “Let's walk,” he suggested, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Hand in hand, they wandered through the idyllic landscape, the sun casting long shadows across the grass.

“Wits end, huh?” Neo teased gently, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

Y/n rolled her eyes, her laughter echoing in the tranquil surroundings. “A bit dramatic, I suppose.”

As they walked, Neo couldn’t help but admire Y/n's simplicity, her authenticity in a world built on deceit.

“What made you finally decide to join me?” Y/n asked, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

Neo glanced down at her, his gaze softening. “Curiosity, I suppose. And maybe a bit of... admiration.”

They paused, the world around them shimmering with an ethereal beauty. Neo pulled Y/n close, her warmth seeping into his bones.

As their lips drew near, a jarring ring cut through the peaceful scene. Reality beckoned, but for a moment longer, they lingered in their shared sanctuary.

A few hours after departing the simulation, Y/n navigated the ship's corridor, her steps weary but determined. As she reached her room, she found Neo leaning casually against the doorframe, his presence both comforting and electrifying. “Neo…” she breathed his name, a mixture of longing and anticipation hanging in the air. “Got a moment?” he asked, his voice a low murmur in the dimly lit hallway. She nodded, her resolve wavering in the face of his magnetic pull. “For you? Always,” she replied, her voice a whisper carried on the currents of their shared reality.

Once inside her quarters, Y/n settled onto her bed, the weight of the day settling around her like a heavy shroud. Neo joined her, his presence a grounding force amidst the chaos of their world.

As she removed her shoes, his eyes traced her movements, a silent acknowledgment of the strength she carried within her. When she turned to face him, his touch was urgent, his lips meeting hers with a fierce intensity that ignited a fire within her soul.

In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still, the boundaries of their reality blurring as they became lost in the ecstasy of their connection. It was a sanctuary, a brief respite from the trials that awaited them beyond the confines of their shared embrace.

As they pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, Y/n's heart soared, her desire for him consuming her entirely. Neo's laughter echoed in the quiet of the room as he trailed kisses along her jaw, his touch a balm to her restless soul.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, a hint of regret in his eyes. Y/n protested, her need for him palpable in the air between them. “If we continue, you'll never rest,” he cautioned, his voice a gentle reminder of the responsibilities that awaited them.

Y/n met his gaze with defiance, her determination unwavering in the face of his gentle admonishment. “That's not for you to decide,” she countered, her voice a whisper against the backdrop of their shared intimacy.

Neo's smirk was both infuriating and endearing as he regarded her, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of admiration and desire. “Very well,” he conceded, his fingers trailing along her cheek. “Let's rest, for now.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes alight with mischief as she draped her arms around his neck. “Agreed,” she murmured, pulling him close for one final kiss before surrendering to the call of sleep.

As Neo guided her beneath the covers, Y/n felt a sense of peace wash over her, his touch a soothing balm against the chaos of their days. “Will you stay?” she asked, her voice a soft plea in the darkness.

Neo nodded, his gaze unwavering as he ran his fingers along her back. “Of course,” he replied, his voice a whisper against the silence of the night.

As Y/n drifted into sleep, Neo remained by her side, his presence a steadfast reminder of the love they shared amidst the tumult of their existence. In the warmth of their embrace, they found solace, a sanctuary amidst the storm.

And as the world faded into darkness, they surrendered to the sweet embrace of sleep, their dreams intertwined in the tapestry of their shared existence.

Ted Theodore Logan

-

Ted’s joyful greeting interrupted Y/n’s intense focus, her eyes reluctantly leaving the dense textbook pages. With a weary smile, she raised her gaze to meet his, her exhaustion evident.

"How’s it going, babe!" Ted’s tone brimmed with joy as he slid into the seat beside her, his presence a welcome distraction.

Y/n couldn’t help but smile at his infectious enthusiasm, though she couldn’t hide her weariness. "Very... Very slowly," she sighed, running her hands down her face in exhaustion.

Ted's mischievous grin widened as he settled beside her, his excitement palpable.

As she looked at him, a mix of concern and curiosity flickered in her eyes. "What are you planning?" she asked cautiously, bracing herself for one of Ted’s wild ideas. His grin grew wider, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "I’ve just had the most excellent idea, dudette. Let’s go!" With a swift motion, he grabbed her hand, pulling her up from her seat, his enthusiasm contagious.

Y/n hesitated, her responsibilities tugging at her conscience. "Ted Theodore Logan! I can’t just leave; I’ve got a paper due in the morning," she protested weakly, knowing deep down that Ted’s persuasion was hard to resist. But his determination was unwavering, and before she knew it, she found herself grabbing her jacket as Ted dragged her along to the Circle-K.

Standing before the familiar store, Y/n couldn't help but voice her skepticism. "Really, Ted? The Circle-K again?" Her hands found their way to her hips, her gaze fixed on the unassuming sign above.

Ted shrugged, undeterred by her doubt. "I know, I know. But tonight, we embark on a daring quest: to conquer every slushie flavor they possess!" Y/n couldn’t suppress a laugh at his infectious enthusiasm. "Alright, dude. But this time, you’re footing the bill... with your pretzel money," she teased, a playful grin tugging at her lips.

With a theatrical flourish, Ted swung the door open, bowing as Y/n entered with a mock curtsy, their banter echoing through the aisles as they filled their cups with an array of vibrant colors. But by the time they added the cola flavor, the mix turned a dark purple—not a very appetizing color. Y/n handed Ted her slushie and told him she’d go get some snacks. They met at the counter and pulled out all their loose money. Ted refused to let Y/n spend a dime on anything tonight, so she negotiated a penny, which he agreed to because he couldn’t argue with her logic.

Exiting the store, they embarked on their customary leisurely stroll home, tongues stained and spirits high. Ted's tongue became the subject of Y/n's laughter, prompting a playful exchange as they walked hand in hand. Ted stuck out his tongue, and Y/n laughed loudly. "Your tongue is so purple!"

"You should see yours!" he countered as he nudged her shoulder. She nudged him back a little harder, then bolted ahead. Ted followed after her, catching her with his free hand and pulling her into him. "You’re mine now, babe!"

Their journey led them to Y/n's backyard and her cherished treehouse, adorned with twinkling lights. It was her sanctuary, a haven away from the chaos of the world.

Ted sat down on one of the three beanbag chairs on the floor of the treehouse. They hadn’t had much time together lately. Y/n had been sent to an all-girls high school after getting into trouble too many times, being the third member of a certain-rockin'-duo. Ted and Bill had blamed themselves for a while, but now, they all had their own paths. Y/n was an A-student, and the boys were still very passionate about their band.

Y/n sat on the floor beside the window, next to where Ted was sitting. She looked out toward her house; her parents were in the dining room building a puzzle. 'How boring' she thought.

"Y/n," Ted’s usually bouncy, aloof demeanor wasn’t present in his voice. When she looked over at him, she saw the vulnerability she saw in him when he was around his father. "Yeah, Teddy?" The rare use of that nickname caused his heart to race. Only she could call him that, only Y/n. He looked away and shook his head, finishing off his slushie. Y/n sat up and placed her hand on his knee. "What’s wrong?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

"I- It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it," he quickly smiled to cover up his sullen attitude. "That won’t cut it. Tell me, or I’m kicking you out." He laughed. "Again!? But I just got pardoned!" he exclaimed gleefully.

Y/n stood up, her hands on her hips. "Teddy, I’m going to sit down." She spoke but didn’t give him a chance to respond. She straddled his hips, causing them to sink further into the beanbag. Ted’s face erupted in red, his ears, cheeks, and neck red as a tomato.

"Talk." She crossed her arms, knowing this was like Wonder Woman's lasso of truth to him.

Ted groaned, a mix of surprise and irritation. "Fine. I was gonna tell you anyway! You didn’t need to..." He motioned to her hips. She raised a curious brow, and his head fell back. "You’re acting like I don’t do this all the time." His head snapped back up, and he glared at her playfully, his hair looking wilder than usual. Y/n reached forward to thread her fingers through it. Ted’s eyes fluttered shut at the feeling.

"I miss you," he admitted softly, his hands finding their places on her hips. Y/n’s face softened in understanding. "Oh- I see… I have been really busy, haven’t I?" Ted nodded. Y/n continued to play with his hair. "You haven’t been around; even Bill misses you."

Y/n hummed. "Yes, I bet he does. But my sweet boyfriend misses me more, doesn’t he?"

"More than anything," his words were slow and mumbled. He was exhausted; this was probably weighing on him more than he realized.

Y/n removed herself from his lap; his hands reached for her as he groaned in protest. "Hold on for a sec, babe." Y/n spoke sweetly as she moved to open the trunk in the corner of the treehouse.

She pulled out a thick, fuzzy blanket and then moved back over to Ted. She sat down in his lap, her legs draped over his, and her head rested on his shoulder as she put the blanket over them. "Teddy, I’ll try and make more time for you and Bill. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner that I was neglecting you." He shrugged tiredly, a goofy, tired smile on his lips, his eyes still shut as he struggled to keep his head up. "It’s totally cool, babe, no worries," she smiled at his words, allowing sleep to consume her.

Tom Ludlow

-

The sun was setting over LA, casting a warm glow that enveloped the balcony of my apartment. The fading daylight's gentle warmth kept me company as I lounged outside. A cold glass of iced tea sat on the table beside me, the ice cubes clinking softly as they melted. It was 7 o’clock, and I waited patiently, soaking in the tranquility of the evening.

Thirty minutes passed, and finally, the door to my apartment swung open and then slammed shut. "I’m home," my boyfriend's rough, tired voice echoed through the space. I rose from my chair on the balcony and made my way inside. "Green, Yellow, or Red?" I inquired, our signal for the mood we were in after work: Green for great, Yellow for moderate, Red for really shitty. I found him by the front door, shrugging off his coat. I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorway.

"Red. Bright fucking red," he grumbled. I nodded silently, understanding that it was my cue to let him set the pace. When he turned to face me, his shoulders visibly softened. "Look at you. Did you dress up for me, or?" he teased, a smirk playing on his lips. Even on Red days, we didn't bring our troubles home; they stayed on the doorstep. But we would address them eventually.

I smiled and shrugged, playfully turning away and heading towards the kitchen, with his heavy footsteps trailing behind me. His favorite meal awaited him on the table, along with a beer at his usual spot. He chuckled as he took in the spread. "You're amazing," he said, wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing the top of my head. I leaned into him, and he embraced me tightly, seeking solace.

"Don’t tiptoe around me tonight; I’ll be alright," he confessed, turning me to face him. His eyes scanned me from head to toe. I wore his favorite outfit—not too flashy, just the right mix of sweet and sexy. "Shall we eat?" I nodded, kissing the corner of his mouth, feeling his hands softly gripping my hips. I could tell he needed to unwind, and I was determined to help him relax.

So we sat down to dinner. I held a glass of wine in my hand while he nursed his first beer. Across from each other at the dining table, he turned the attention to me. "How was your day, sweetheart?" he inquired. I hummed, "Boring. Forced leave is stupid." He rolled his eyes. "You fell down a flight of stairs and had a mild concussion. I think it’s justified," he remarked. I scoffed, "I wouldn’t be here if I had just bought those new shoes you told me to." Tom chuckled, taking a long sip from his bottle. My wine remained barely touched.

"You're worried," he stated, knowing me like the back of his hand. He could read me like a book, even from the day we met. "Yes... I mean, you rarely have Red days anymore, so of course I’m worried," I confessed. He nodded, understanding, placing the bottle on the table before standing up from his seat. Standing beside me, he lifted my chin and kissed me tenderly. I melted into his embrace; I was supposed to be the one to relax him, not the other way around.

He pulled me up from my seat, guiding me to the living room as he peppered kisses along my jawline. His warmth enveloped me as his body pressed against mine. Sitting me on the couch, he knelt in front of me, and I tilted my head, curious. He smirked, "I can’t let my girl get stressed over me," he declared, his knuckles brushing against my ankles as he slipped off my heels. My eyes brimmed with affection as I watched him. What a sap. I chuckled at the thought, and his gaze met mine, his smile genuine.

"What’s so funny?" he inquired. I shook my head, smiling. His eyes darkened, locking onto mine like a predator eyeing its prey. Tossing my shoes aside, he stood up, maintaining his intense gaze. "I won’t ask again," he asserted with feigned authority. "You're a sap," I teased. He laughed, a genuine, happy sound. Surprised, he smiled. "A sap, huh? Why don’t you slip into something comfy, and I’ll come find you in the bedroom."

I nodded and stood, grabbing his hand and giving him a brief kiss before darting off to our shared bedroom. "Comfy" meant wearing his shirt and a pair of PJ shorts. I sat on the bed, organizing my bedside table, removing empty pill bottles and water bottles. This room had become my sanctuary during my leave, but I had let it become cluttered. As I threw away the last bottle, Tom entered the room. His expression was soft, and I noticed his hands were damp.

"Did you wash the dishes?" I asked. He nodded. "Oh, Tommy, you didn’t have to," I said, touched. He shrugged, "It gave me some time to think. Ready for bed?" I nodded wearily, then crawled under the covers. I watched him as he shut the bedroom door and began undressing, but he disappeared into the bathroom to change. "Tease!" I exclaimed, hearing his deep chuckle from the other side of the door. "Nothing you haven’t seen before, baby," he quipped.

When he emerged, he wore a pair of low-waisted black sweatpants. Nothing else. It was warm, and I didn't blame him. He climbed into bed, and we leaned against the headboard, me nestled against him with a book in hand. He turned on the TV, the volume low, quickly finding a rerun of an old TV show. This was our routine. If we weren’t tired, I would read while he watched something.

Tucked against his chest, I read my book. "How many is this?" he asked. "Four. Hopefully, next weekend I’ll have finished the fifth one," I replied. He hummed, kissing my head. "We lost an officer today. He was just a kid. It really hit me hard, and I’m not sure why," he confessed. I placed my book face down, looking up at him. "Oh, baby…" I caressed his face, kissing his cheek. He held my hand, kissing my palm.

"I’ll be alright. I’m taking the day off tomorrow. It’ll be just us," he assured me. I smiled, nuzzling back into him. "I like the sound of that. A day of infinite possibilities." We relaxed into each other, my book untouched, and the TV left on. A peaceful slumber enveloped us in its warmth.

[mystictf]

Letters Of Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

1091 Words.

The summer of 1943 in Brooklyn was like a photograph browned at the edges, with the sun glinting off cobblestones and the smell of bread wafting through open windows. War dominated the headlines, but in the flower-studded stoop of your apartment building, life retained an air of hopeful normalcy.

You adjusted your floral print dress and stepped onto the street, where the sound of a familiar voice calling your name made you pause. Bucky Barnes approached with his usual easy confidence, his grin wide and infectious. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted, his eyes glinting as brightly as the sun above. “Hi, Bucky,” you replied, falling into step beside him. The two of you meandered through the neighbourhood the way old friends often do, the conversation skirting between humour and the heaviness of impending goodbyes. “I’m shipping out soon,” Bucky mentioned after a comfortable silence, the words a reality that hung between you like the thick summer air. His voice was light, but you could sense the underlying current of seriousness. You nodded, your heart tugging in two directions at once - pride in his bravery and fear for what lay ahead. “I’ll miss you,” you admitted, the words barely louder than the rustle of leaves in the breeze. He stopped, turning to face you. “I’ll miss you too.” There was an earnestness in his gaze that made the world blur around the edges. In that moment, the worry about rations, victory gardens, and air raid drills faded away, leaving only the two of you. “Promise me you’ll write?” You asked, your voice carrying a note of hope and resolution, binding him to a commitment that felt heavier than words. “Every chance I get,” he assured, his tone steady and sincere. You both knew the reality - letters sometimes travelled as slowly as time in a trench - but the promise was a lifeline. The afternoon unfolded gently, filled with laughter and the pervasive undercurrent of what might never be spoken. Before long, the sun dipped low, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange. Bucky walked you back home, his arm linked with yours. “I’ll stop by tomorrow before I head out,” he promised once more, lingering on the stoop steps. You nodded, not trusting your voice to remain steady if you spoke again. As he turned away, you held onto the warmth of his hand in yours, the memory of his laughter, and the hope that this friendship, this bond, would withstand the trials of war. There was a world fighting to stay together, and in your corner of Brooklyn, so were you. The days would come and go, letters would be exchanged, and you’d each face your battles in different uniforms. But for now, you had this moment, this summer evening in 1943, and the promise of a tomorrow wrapped in courage and friendship.

The morning sky was painted with shades of dawn as you stood by your window, waiting and watching the street below. The city was quieter as the early hour, the hustle of Brooklyn not yet in full swing. You sipped your tea slowly, trying to savour the moments before Bucky arrived. Today was the day he would leave, and you knew it would be difficult to say goodbye. A knock at the door shook you from your thoughts, setting your heart racing. You placed your cup down with a soft clink and opened the door to find Bucky standing there, his uniform freshly pressed, a reluctant smile on his face. “Morning,” he said, a warmth in his eyes that made the world outside seem fleeting and distant. “Morning,” you replied, stepping aside to let him in. The air was thick with unspoken words, the comfort of yesterday giving way to the reality of his departure. Bucky took a seat at your small kitchen table, and you joined him, neither of you quite knowing how to start the conversation. After a moment, he reached across the table, his hand covering yours. It was a simple gesture, but one that spoke volumes. “I’m really going to miss this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “All of this…you.” A flutter stirred in your chest at his words, a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. “I’ll miss you too, Bucky,” you replied, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “More than I can say.” He chuckled softly, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes, easing some of the tension. “Guess you’ll have to take extra good care of Steve then, keep him out of trouble for me.” You laughed, the sound a balm against the heaviness in the room. “I promise to do my best,” you said, trying to match his teasing tone, though your heart was not quite ready to let this moment end. Time seemed to quicken its pace, and before long, Bucky was standing at your door again, ready to leave. You walked with him down the steps to the street, the impending goodbye looming larger with every step. “I’ll write,” he said, echoing the promise from the day before. His gaze lingered on you, capturing every detail as if to commit it to memory. “Every chance you get,” you reminded him, trying to smile through the growing lump in your throat. And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Bucky took a small step closer. You could see the determination in his eyes, the softness as he reached up to brush his fingers along your cheek. Time stood still as he leaned in, and his lips met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. It was a moment of pure clarity, where everything else faded away, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the realisation of what had been unspoken for so long. When he pulled back, there was a new understanding in his gaze, a shared feeling that told you everything you needed to know: this wasn’t just goodbye. It was a promise of more to come. “I’ll be back,” he said, voice filled with an earnest vow. You nodded, holding onto that promise as you watched him walk down the street, each step taking him further into the unknown but closer to the hope guarded in your heart. As the day unfolded, you held onto the kiss, a secret shared between two souls now intertwined by more than just friendship. Brooklyn seemed a little quieter that day, but you knew that wherever Bucky was, a part of you was with him, just as he had left a part of himself with you.

A/N: I'm having to split this into two parts as it won't let me post it as one.

[crowpickingss]

Records

monty x gn! record store owner reader

summary: the reader is a record store owner and monty happens to find his way into the readers life

warnings: crying, mention of monty’s death

a/n: Monty fic finally, if your wondering what record he picked up it was folklore

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

When you found out that your father was shipping you off to some random place called Port Townsend to open a new record location you were less than appreciative. However over time you grew to love the town you called home.

You had only ever had a few encounters with Esther Finch. She would always buy classical records. Another supernatural customer you had was The Cat King. His music was interesting to say the least. A lot of jazz. It seemed he was more interested in you than the record.

You knew everyone in town’s music taste. In the break room you kept a list with everyone’s favourite genres. What you didn’t expect was having to extended that list.

One day a black haired boy walked into the store. You greeted him like any other customer trying to spark up a conversation but it eventually fell flat.

You went back to the counter and watched him look around for a bit. Passing by a couple different records. You walked to the back room and when you came out he was walking towards the counter “Hey, ready to check out” He nodded “I would hate to be intrusive and assume things, but if you don’t mind me asking are you new too town?”

He placed the record on the counter “I was in a coma for a while” You rung up the record “I’m so sorry, that must’ve been really hard for you” He shrugged “You don’t really feel it” He handed you a couple of bills “Did you want grab lunch together?”

He seemed a bit taken aback but smiled after a bit of thought “Sure, I’m free Tuesday” You slid his record into a bag and handed it too him “Tuesday it is, see you later” He waved and walked out.

After your date you two started going on more dates until you confessed your love for one another. You did everything together until one night.

You were meant to go on a date with Monty. But he never showed. You were very confused and slightly worried. You asked around town begging and pleading for information.

After the only answer you got was no you gave up. You sat on a bench in the pitch black crying. Until someone approached you.

You looked up and noticed Thomas the cat king looming over you. He sat down next to you “What do you want Thomas” He rubbed his hand up and down your back “I know your probably worrying about Monty and I have some news” You lifted your head to face him “What news?”

He swallowed hard “You’re boyfriend kinda died” Hearing those words your body went in too complete shut down mode. You were a crying mess. Thomas tried his hardest to comfort you. Just then a crow landed on the bench, it clawed its way over to your arm. It pecked at your arm until you picked it up.

The crow jumped in circles and played in your hand. You took the crow back to your apartment after you said goodbye to Thomas. Over the next couple days you took care of the crow and you grew quite attached to it. When the news about Esther’s plan had reached you, you were more than shocked.

That night The cat king showed up at your apartment holding a book “Look y/n, I think I know how to get Monty back” You furrowed your brow “Monty’s dead, remember” Thomas just laughed while flicking through pages “Yeah he’s not actually dead, he’s your pet crow” You turned to your crow then back at Thomas “That crow is my boyfriend, sure” Thomas found the page and went to approach the crow “Woah, calm down I’ll do it”

Thomas stepped back and let you do all the work. After a couple swift movements your boyfriend who you hadn’t seen in a while was sitting right in front of you. You hugged him so hard in that moment that he almost suffocated. He was finally back, you two were finally back. Your life was better with him in it. Just you and Monty against the world

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

[cc--2224]

Lifeline

Summary: Crosshair and Omega reunite with Hunter and Wrecker, but Crosshair can't help but notice someone is missing. After doing some digging, he finally learns of his brother's fate. Omega helps him to understand that it wasn't his fault, and she helps him to start moving forward.

Warnings: Potential Bad Batch Season 3 spoilers if you have not watched up until episode 5!! If you're not caught up, please don't read :) Big mentions of guilt, and mentions of anxiety, pain, and brief mention of Crosshair's torture on Tantiss

Notes: This is just general hurt/comfort for Crosshair, no romance, no reader insert, pain with a happy ending.

Read on AO3

Word Count: ~3.5k

Taglist: None, let me know if you'd like to be added!

Masterlist

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or replying 💚

He expected the cold glares from his brothers as he disembarked from the Imperial cargo ship. He knew as soon as Omega had contacted them, that they would not be happy to see him, but that was okay. Being with his brothers, as unhappy as they were with him, was infinitely better than being back on Tantiss. And he knew at the very least, even if Hunter and Wrecker were angry, Tech would be willing to at least try to understand him, just as he always had.

Crosshair briefly looked toward the Marauder to see if Tech would emerge, but he didn’t. He then looked back to Wrecker, whose gaze seemed to soften slightly, and then to Hunter whose glare was just as cold as it was when he first saw him.

"You helped her escape?" Hunter asked incredulously when Crosshair approached them.

"I wouldn't be here if I hadn't." Crosshair retorted.

Hunter's eyebrows furrowed, “And we’re supposed to just believe you?”

“Hunter, come on. Can we sort this out later?” Wrecker attempted to stand between them, but Hunter pushed past him.

“It just seems a little too convenient to me. Omega ends up in an Imperial prison, and someone who was hellbent on sending her there just happens to help her escape?” His eyes narrowed.

“I was imprisoned too.” Crosshair advised him, his tone cold.

Hunter looked surprised for a moment. “Now that is convenient.”

“You seem to have forgotten the warning I sent you.”

“You mean the trap.” 

Hunter and Crosshair stood inches apart from each other, staring daggers into each other, before Wrecker forcefully pushed his way between them.

“That’s enough. Look, if Omega trusts you, then I will too.” He told Crosshair, then he looked at Hunter, “We need to stick together, especially now.”

Hunter looked past Wrecker one more time, he had a look which told Crosshair that he had more to say, but instead he just shook his head and boarded the Marauder, followed by Wrecker.

That was exactly the conversation Crosshair expected to have, but it was strange for Wrecker to play the role of the mediator, usually that was designated to Echo or Tech.

Omega took Crosshair's hand gently, snapping him out of his thoughts, "C'mon. Time to go home." She said before pulling him onto the ship.

Home. Where was home now? Kamino was lost, and everywhere else he had been was off-limits.

He reluctantly followed her onto the ship, still looking for his absentee brother.

"Where's T-" He began to ask her, but she ran to her old bedroom in the gunport before he could get his question out.

Crosshair sighed and looked toward the cockpit, considering if he should just go look for himself, but ultimately decided to stay as far away from the others as possible, figuring he'd just see him later anyway.

The door to the cockpit slid open suddenly and Crosshair looked over at the sound, only to find Wrecker holding out his old Firepuncher rifle.

"Here. Don't know how well it works anymore, haven't touched it since Kamino but.. it's yours."

Crosshair walked toward him and grabbed the barrel of the rifle. He tried looking into the cockpit while he was there, but couldn't see past Wrecker.

He felt a resistance on the blaster when he pulled away and realized Wrecker hadn't let go.

"If this gets aimed at Omega or at us again, we'll throw you out of this ship before you can pull the trigger. Got it?"

"...Got it."

Wrecker let go of the blaster before ducking back into the cockpit, leaving Crosshair alone. He leaned the rifle against the wall and looked around.

He felt his hand shake as he wandered the ship, feeling like he was where he belonged, yet also feeling incredibly out of place. He held the shaking hand gently, attempting to massage it before just clenching his fist until the tremors stopped. He then sat against the wall and settled down for the first time in what felt like weeks even if it had only been a few days, and took a minute to close his eyes. The familiar sound and scent of the Marauder made him feel more at ease than he'd ever admit.

A loud clanking began approaching him slowly, and without even opening his eyes, he knew it was the power droid that he always thought could have been scrapped or upgraded to something more useful. But even still, when it honked at him in what sounded like excitement, he opened one eye slightly.

"Yeah, I missed you too, Gonky."

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep, until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Crosshair? Wake up, we're here!"

It was Omega. She jostled his shoulder again.

He opened his eyes and blinked a few times before slowly looking around, he saw Batcher curled up next to him on one side, and Gonky powered down on the other. He shook his head and slowly stood up.

The open door of the Marauder invited the warm sea breeze and the chittering sounds of moon-yos into the ship. It wasn't unwelcome but it was unlike anything Crosshair was used to.

"Where are we?" He asked Omega before grabbing his Firepuncher and taking a few steps toward the door, his eyes squinting as it got brighter.

"Pabu. It's remote, but lots of people came here as refugees. Don't worry though, everyone's friendly, and the Empire wouldn't even know to come here." She walked past him and left the ship.

He stepped into the bright light and had to shield his eyes with his hand. It was certainly different than anywhere he had been in the last year, and definitely not somewhere he would have thought the others to have found on their own.

"How did you find this place?"

"Phee brought us here."

"Who is Phee?"

"Our friend. She's a liberator of ancient wonders!" Omega smiled back at him as they walked away from the landing port.

Crosshair raised an eyebrow, "You mean a pirate."

"Don't let her hear you call her that."

"I'm not sure that a pirate is someone you can really call a friend."

"Tech seemed like her." She shrugged.

Crosshair stopped in his tracks, suddenly realizing that he still hadn't seen Tech in all this time.

"Omega.. Where is Tech?"

She kept walking, Crosshair couldn't see her face to know of the grief that crept across it. She couldn't bring herself to tell him in all the time she had spent with him on Tantiss, and truthfully, she still wasn't ready to accept that Tech was gone.

Omega remained quiet, and Crosshair grew suspicious.

Before he could press for information, they were approached by a man, a woman, and a young girl.

"Omega!" The girl exclaimed.

"Lyana!" Omega answered, running over to her and giving her a hug. "Shep! Phee! I missed you!"

Crosshair stood further back, not wanting to interrupt their reunion, but eying Omega's friends carefully. When she mentioned Phee's name, his gaze shifted to the woman.

Her eyes met his and for a moment, he could see resentment in her expression until Shep called over to him.

"You must be Crosshair! We've heard much about you! I am Shep Hazard, the mayor of Pabu. This is my daughter Lyana, and this is Phee."

Crosshair nodded in greeting but said nothing.

"Too good to talk to us?" Phee asked, her cold tone surprising the others.

"Phee.." Omega said quietly, almost as a warning.

She scoffed at Crosshair before turning back to Omega. "It's nice to see you, kid, I'll catch up with you later."

When she left, Shep looked awkwardly between Omega and Crosshair before nervously clapping his hands together. "Don't mind her, Crosshair, she just.. isn't a morning person. But speaking of, the two of you must be starving! Come, join us for breakfast!"

"...I'll pass." Crosshair replied. "I'm.. not hungry." He began walking away in the same direction as Phee.

Omega watched him leave, she had an anxious feeling but decided to ignore it. Instead, she let him go while she joined Shep and Lyana.

- - -

Phee stood, leaning on a railing and looking out to the sea. She heard footsteps approach and stop a few feet away. Without turning to look at her company, she spoke.

"What could you possibly have to say to me?"

Crosshair was silent at first, not sure exactly how to answer her. He wasn't the type to seek out strangers, but he also knew he needed answers.

"You're a friend of Tech's?" He finally asked.

She looked down at the railing.

"What's it to you?"

"Omega won't tell me where he is."

Phee turned to face him at long last. He could still see the contempt for him on her face, and he could hear it when she spoke.

"Then maybe you don't deserve to know."

Crosshair considered arguing, showing her that he had a right to know where his brother was, but he could hardly believe that himself. Why should he get access to everyone's whereabouts when he had only just returned to them?

Phee continued talking, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I don't even know why they brought you back here. The last thing anyone here needs is some Empire lap dog hanging around."

Crosshair's eyes narrowed, "I am not-"

Phee cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "Just remember, if you even think of hurting anyone here, it'll be the last thing you do."

With that, she pushed past him and walked away once more. This time, he knew better than to follow her.

Instead, he made his way back to the landing port. He thought that maybe Tech had decided to leave, and if he did, there would be some record of it back on the ship. Tech would never leave without ensuring that every detail of his departure was documented.

The Marauder was empty when he arrived back, save for Gonky who was still powered down inside. Even Batcher was now preoccupied somewhere else, likely with Wrecker, Crosshair assumed.

He boarded the Marauder and began looking at Tech's bunk. It was in the same condition it always was, tools and wires strewn across the bed, there was no comfortable way to sleep with such a mess, but Tech still did it anyway.

He sighed, knowing he'd get no insights here, so he walked toward the cockpit.

The door slid open, and it was devoid of people. It was strange for him to see the ship empty when they weren't actively on a mission, normally Tech would be fixing something that was working perfectly fine to begin with.

He slowly walked over to the console and found Tech's datapad. He picked it up and examined it with curiosity, it was unlike Tech to go anywhere without his datapad. He could tell that it had recently been used, but he couldn't determine why. When he set it back down on the console, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, and when he turned his head to get a better look, he froze.

Reaching out a hand to pick the object up, he could see his hand shake, but despite the pain and frustration his tremors had brought him, he was too focused on the item in his hand to pay the tremors any mind.

Goggles. Tech's goggles. The lenses were cracked and broken, the light on the arm had long since gone out.

"Tech...?" He said quietly to himself.

He heard the door slide open behind him, and his eyes narrowed.

"Where is he?" Crosshair asked, still looking at the goggles in his hand.

"Listen, Crosshair.." Hunter began.

"Hunter.. Where is he?" Crosshair repeated through gritted teeth. "Where is Tech?"

He turned around to face his brother.

Hunter sighed, "When we got your message about Omega, Tech was the one who suggested we go to Eriadu. There was an Imperial base there and we thought we could extract information on Hemlock. He wanted to find you and bring you home."

Crosshair felt his jaw clench more. "So what happened to him?"

"We were on a railcar making our escape, and it became a firefight between us, the Empire, and a group of insurgents. And.." Hunter looked down. "An explosive went off, and a railcar came off the track, pulling the others with it. Tech was attached to the car and we tried to pull him up, but there was no safe way to get to him, the other cars would have fallen too.."

Crosshair's grip tightened around the band of the goggles. "Don't tell me that he..."

Hunter nodded slowly. "Plan 99."

Crosshair was silent for a moment before slamming the goggles back onto the console. "And you let him do it? Plan 99 was never meant to be used." His voice was full of anger and desperation and grief all at once.

"We didn't have a choice."

"Of course you did!"

"Tech assessed the situation and did what he thought was best. We tried telling him to hold on while we thought of a way to pull him up, but there was no time. It was his decision to enact Plan 99. We all knew that it would only be used when there was no other option, Tech knew best of all. It was his choice."

Crosshair's eyes narrowed, he knew Hunter was right, it wouldn't be outside of Tech's nature to sacrifice himself to save the others. But to do so for his sake? How could Tech of all people do something so stupid?

"I'm sorry that you had to find out this way, I thought Omega would have told you." Hunter said.

"She shouldn't have had to." Crosshair replied bitterly before walking toward the door, shoving past Hunter on his way out.

“Crosshair,” Hunter called out, his voice now much more stern, causing Crosshair to stop. “You can be angry all you want, but don’t pretend like you’re completely blameless.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Crosshair replied.

“You know what I mean.”

Crosshair said nothing back, and instead walked out of the ship. 

Back out in the sunlight, all he wanted to do was to get far away from everyone. He looked around for somewhere secluded where no one could bother him, until he finally found a cove in the lower area of the island, the one place he could see that wasn't teeming with people. Somewhere he could be alone.

When he arrived, he took a look around, looking for something he could use as a target. He figured that if there was one thing that could still take his mind off of everything, it was training.

He picked up a small rock from the ground and placed it on a boulder before walking a few paces back, preparing himself to shoot it. But just as he was lining up his shot, he felt his hand begin to tremble again. He rolled his eyes and attempted to force it to stop but it wouldn't.

"Come on.." He muttered quietly. "Why now?"

He watched his hand as it shook. Why wouldn't it stop? Why did it have to happen every time he held a blaster? He was enhanced for one job, one thing that made him feel like he was of use, and he couldn't do it. And what made it worse was that he didn’t know exactly what it was that caused his hand to shake, he knew every detail of the torture he went through on Tantiss, and he remembered it vividly, but he couldn’t think of what part of it could have caused this. 

He knew that if Tech were here, he would be able to fix it.The two of them were always close, they always understood each other, and understood when there was something wrong. Their numbers may not have been sequential, but they may as well have been twins. Tech was always more talkative, but anytime Crosshair had something to say, Tech would listen. Growing up, Tech would always be the one to ensure the Kaminoans knew if Crosshair needed assistance, something Crosshair would never tell them on his own. And as they got older and became less dependent on the Kaminoans, anytime Crosshair had a problem, he knew that he could bring it to Tech for resolution.

So that made all of this more difficult for Crosshair to cope with. He had a problem, and no one to bring it to. The support he had all throughout his life was gone.

And it was his fault. 

The tremble worsened the more he thought about Tech’s death. He threw his rifle down to the ground in frustration and sat down next to it, holding his hand out in front of him. He had run out of ideas to stop it, so instead he just stared.

- - - 

He was still sitting down in the sand, now with his head in his hands when Omega finally found him. His hand had stopped shaking some time ago, but he didn’t want to attempt any more training.

"Cross..hair?" She called out, hesitantly.

"What?" He hissed. His voice was more angry than he intended to let out and he regretted it as soon as it happened. But with all of the stress of adjusting to the new location, the news of Tech’s death, and his inability to fix his hand, there was a lot swirling around in his mind.

She flinched slightly at his tone before walking over to him.

"Are you alright?"

He thought carefully about how he wanted to ask his next question so he didn’t snap again. "Why didn't you tell me.. about Tech?"

She felt a lump in her throat. She knew he would have found out eventually but didn't know what to say when he did.

"I-I... I couldn't." Her eyes started to water.

"We were there for months, I'm sure you could have found the time."

"I couldn't say it."

He glanced up at her now and saw the grieved and almost guilty expression on her face. His icy glare immediately melted, but he didn't say anything.

"Tech.. fell so that we could escape. And I still- I still got captured." A tear rolled down her cheek, "His sacrifice was all for nothing, because of me. How was I supposed to tell you that?"

Crosshair knew he wasn't fit to comfort anyone, but he still got to his feet and hesitated before putting his hand on her shoulder, knowing that her sadness and guilt took precedence over his anger.

"You can't think that way." He told her, his tone now much softer. "Tech knew what he was doing. He was a soldier, he knew the risks. And more importantly.."

Crosshair sighed and his eyes met hers. "He was your brother. So even if you think it was meaningless, I know he'd do it again."

Omega looked at him, searching his eyes for any sign that he was unsure of his words but found none.

"Really?"

He nodded, "It wasn't your fault, Omega. If anyone was to blame," He began, remembering what Hunter said before shaking his head. "Tech wanted to find me. Bring me home. That's the reason you went on that mission, I'm the reason you went on that mission."

He looked down at the ground, and Omega gently took his hand.

"I know that’s what Hunter told you, but you can't blame yourself either, Crosshair. It's like you said, he's your brother."

He paused for a moment then took his hand off of Omega’s shoulder, “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” He told her quietly. “It’s just..”

She smiled reassuringly at him. “It’s not easy to adjust, I understand. You’ve been gone a while, and a lot has changed. You don’t have to be sorry.” 

He didn’t say anything back, but the look on his face revealed that he was grateful for her understanding. Before he could protest, she stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He didn’t return the hug, but he didn’t push her away either. 

She soon backed away and after a moment, she spoke again, “Come on, let’s go back to the others.”

His gaze shifted to the ocean, and considered going with her but decided he didn’t want to confront Hunter again, “I think I should stay here. No one needs me up there.”

She sighed and shook her head, “I wasn’t asking.” Once again, she took his hand and dragged him toward the stairs. 

As they walked together toward the upper levels of the island, Crosshair took in his surroundings. He knew it would take time for him to feel completely comfortable, as Omega said, a lot had changed. But he was thankful that he still had at least one person there that was going to be patient with him while he adjusted. He always knew Tech to be the only one to truly understand him, but the more he let Omega in, the more he began to realize that she understood him just as well.

It may have been different; being on Pabu, being reunited with the Bad Batch, actually having the freedom that he thought he had all along, coping with his grief. But if Omega was willing to help him adjust, then he knew it would get easier.

[zahmaddog]

Part 5: Family Matters

Warnings: Fluffy AF, Flirting, Slowest Burn, Blaster Fire, Explosions, Head Injuries, Light Romance (SFW), Crosshair opening up, Comfort, and some heavy Star Wars cameos. (Entire series NSFW.)

Crosshair x fem!reader | Word Count: 2885

Hi, fellow Crosshair lovers. I'm continuing to poke away at this narrative until it resolves. There will probably be about 7 parts. I took some liberties with this one and it's okay if nobody likes it. ;) Crosshair is soft in this, but also still harsh with quips and attitude. The reader is still a bounty hunting badass with dark humor.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Separated by two laser-shields and a hallway, you and Crosshair anxiously awaited the arrival of this “Lord Vader” character. The patrol guards really didn’t mind, or perhaps notice, the soft conversations between you and Crosshair. 

“You good?” you asked, your chin resting on your arms as you sat, curled in a ball against the wall. 

“Mmhmm,” he mumbled. You could hear him exhale, “Are you good?”

“Eh, I’m home,” you smirked a little in disbelief that you were back on an Imperial ship. 

Crosshair scoffed a little. He enjoyed your dark humor. You felt the pause in conversation as his emotions shifted.

“I understand the feeling,” he sighed. 

“You know, I still feel so hollow over it all,” you described.

“Hollow?” Crosshair prodded you to continue.

“I spent nearly every part of myself trying to keep my family together. But in the end, my differences with the Empire were enough to be forgotten. I’d take them all back in a second, but I’m never going to be enough for them,” you wearily confided. “It leaves me rather hollow.” 

“We can hope that one day they’ll wake up missing you,” Crosshair tried to comfort. “Being here, in these Imperial walls again, reminds me of how…” he trailed off. “Cross?” you looked across the hall to see him studying his mechanical hand.

“The Empire broke me too,” he confessed. 

“What happened?” you finally asked. You had been wanting to know the story of his hand for months now, but similar to yourself, Crosshair rarely divulged information that brought up painful emotions. You knew your compatibility had a trusting foundation because neither of you expected the other to leak all the secrets that made you, you. 

He continued to sit in silence. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” you assured him.

“I made a friend with a reg,” he started. “A reg?” you didn’t know the term. “A regular clone. Clone Force 99, we were never accepted as true clones by the regs, so we considered ourselves superior. Which genetically speaking, we are,” he continued, lightening up a little when mentioning his squad.

You nodded in following his explanation and watched his shoulders drop again as he continued his story.

“His name was Mayday,” he sighed. “There was an avalanche, and I risked everything to get him back to base. He saved me and I couldn’t save him in return.” He paused. “Then the Empire betrayed him; betrayed us.” He shrugged and breathed through the memory, “I killed an Imperial officer in response. If Mayday wasn’t important to the Empire, then I could never be,” he ended. 

You realized he wasn’t going to explain what happened to his hand, but that his heart had scars more painful to attend to.

“I haven’t told anyone about Mayday,” he said above a whisper.

“I’ll keep your secret,” you assured him.

—-

The Imperial prisoner meals were atrocious. The ground meat and organ stew they’d serve reminded you to never complain about a rations bar again. After about three rotations, your visitor arrived. 

The warbling of the interrogation droid and heavy footsteps of a dark entourage approached your cell. The only comfort you felt was when they passed Crosshair’s cell to enter yours first. 

The Imperial party was led by a tall individual, masked, caped, and audible breathing. Attached to his belt, you spied a hanging Jedi weapon. Your uncle stepped out from behind him and entered your cell first. 

“She was in possession of the holocron?” Vader pressed Tarkin. 

“Yes,” Tarkin respectfully replied. “We caught her and that clone trying to smuggle it off Coruscant.” 

“What clone?” Vader turned to Tarkin. Tarkin motioned behind them to Crosshair’s cell with a nod. Vader glanced at Crosshair standing at attention near the door of his cell, then turned his attention back to you. He stepped deeper into the cell and you were filled with a sense of doom. Vader lifted his hand to reveal the glowing holocron.

“Did the holocron reveal anything to you?” Vader interrogated. 

Confused by the question, you hesitated, “No.”

Vader raised his hand towards your face and you were flooded with a cold presence. You felt him in your mind, reading thoughts; asking questions; pulling memories. You shuddered, but couldn’t turn away. You realized this was the true power of what legends called the force. 

“Is she lying?” Tarkin prodded Vader. 

Releasing his gravitational-like hold, Vader turned to leave the cell. 

“Do not bother me with your family matters again,” Vader directed Tarkin. 

Vader exited your cell and paused at Crosshair’s for a short moment. Crosshair showed no fear as he stood tall, but was towered by Vader. Vader’s breathing echoed in the hallway and presence smothered any spark of a thought. This man was a walking contagion of fear.

Vader continued down the hallway and you were left again with Tarkin. He resealed your cell and began walking down the hallway with his personal guard. 

“Schedule these two traitors for execution,” Tarkin ordered. “Yes, sir,” the stormtrooper replied. 

Angry, you hit the wall of your cell with your fist. You knew there was only one more chance to escape, and that would be in transit from the cell to the execution room. 

Afraid to meet Crosshair’s line of sight, you forced yourself to look outside your cell into his. His eyes reflected his heartbreak and fear, until he caught your eye. His expression shifted to a brave and serious look, nodding in your direction. You swore to yourself you were going to save him, no matter the cost.

Your conviction kept you awake that night. Admiring Crosshair’s ability to drift into a careless slumber even on death row, you managed to relax a little. But, you knew the guard would return in the morning to escort you out of the detention cell, for what you planned or they planned would be the last time. That small moment would be your chance, but you knew they’d be well-guarded and prepared. 

In the morning, the guard arrived. One stormtrooper appeared at your door and another at Crosshair’s, disabling the laser array nearly simultaneously. You and Crosshair recognized this as their first mistake. Why would they free you at the same time? Rookie mistake.

Overwhelming them within a split second, you swept your stormtrooper’s leg with yours, taking him to the floor, then unleashed a powerful ax-kick across the soldier’s face, knocking him unconscious.

From across the hall, you heard Crosshair yell and literally throw the stormtrooper into the wall across from him, also knocking the trooper unconscious. You armed yourself with the blaster in your cell and lept free, sending blaster fire down the hallway to assist Crosshair as he stormed the remaining prison guard with his newly acquired blaster.

With a ricocheting shot, Crosshair took out the guards running the comms, but they had already sent an alert that you and he had escaped. 

“We made that look easy,” you yawned and stretched out. “And to think I stayed up all night worrying.”

“It’s about to get much busier down here,” Crosshair sighed as he reached for your shoulders and inspected your condition. He softly put his hand around your jaw and rested his lips on yours. He pulled away and looked into your eyes. 

“We’re not out of this yet,” he continued.

“What’s the plan?” you breathed. “They’ll be monitoring comms, cameras, elevators, escape pods, and ground all other ships,” he scanned the ceiling above the elevator door. You followed his gaze and understood what he was thinking. “So, we go up through the elevator shaft to not trigger the elevator?” you ask.

“Yes, but only go up a single floor. They’ll know we’re in there within seconds,” Crosshair sprinted to the lift and shot the corner of the panel above it. Tearing it from the wall, he created an entrance to the shaft. Crosshair boosted you up first, then you pulled him up. You shuffled through the few feet of paneling and dropped to the elevator shaft with Crosshair closely behind.

Hanging from metal paneling, you felt your fingers burn as your weight pinched them. You took your blaster, and shot the panel above. Climbing best you could, you reached the panel. Managing to get some footing between gaps and ledges, you and Crosshair pulled the panel from the wall.

Suddenly, the lift shuddered and began lowering.

“They’re coming!” Crosshair exclaimed. 

You swung your legs into the newly made gap and turned to pull Crosshair through. The lift passed your hiding space, missing Crosshair’s feet by a hair.

“Maker, that was too close,” you collapsed onto your back under your lack of breath with Crosshair mostly lying on top of you, also out of breath. The intimacy of the moment makes Crosshair blush a little. 

Pulling yourself through the gap, you and he remove the paneling on the opposite side, creating an escape. You dropped down to the floor above the detention level and immediately blasted the cameras spying from the corner.

You heard a pair of patrol guards around the corner. You and Crosshair hugged the wall with your backs like steadied predators. Once the patrol was in sight, you and Crosshair stunned them both.

“Want to play ‘dress up’ again?” you joked. “No,” Crosshair sighed. “But I will,” he mumbled as he took the helmet from the stormtrooper. “You’re far too small to fit in as a stormtrooper,” he said to you. “New plan. I wear this and you’re my prisoner.” “Kinky,” you replied, eyeing around the corner for stormtroopers.

“What?” he huffed back at you.

“We’ll do what we have to,” you nodded looking back at him.

Crosshair pulled on the white stormtrooper armor while you kept watch. You felt him at your back, taking your blaster. 

“I’ll need this if we’re going to pull this off,” he insisted. 

“Let’s go,” you began to walk with your hands behind your back. “We need to find a map. I’ve never been on a ship like this.”

“Agreed,” Crosshair nodded, digging the back of his blaster into your back and holding your hands close. 

The hallways were more desolate than anticipated. Hearing your footsteps echo down the Imperial chambers, you and Crosshair made your way through the ship, blindly. Heading up and down flights of stairs, in and out of hallways, you were beginning to tire. 

“Something isn’t right,” you acquiesced to address the building anxiety in your gut. “Where is everyone?”

Arriving at a closed door, Crosshair clicked the door’s button. It opened to reveal an in-ship spacewalk, the galaxy being the only source of illumination. You and he took a step inside and the door sealed behind you and Crosshair automatically.

The door parallel to your entrance opened. Your heart dropped as you saw Tarkin and his Lord Vader standing at the opposite end of the hallway. Crosshair pressed your blaster’s hilt into your hand in preparation for the standoff. 

“I didn’t think you’d have another escape in you,” Tarkin gloated.

“I was never what you expected,” you were losing your patience and felt your immature, reckless tendencies take over. Or perhaps it was out of the insomniatic stupor you developed over the last hour. Either way, you leaned into your hotheaded, daredevil attitude; embracing the power it gave you. Raising your blaster at your uncle, you pulled the trigger.

Vader ignited his lightsaber, blocking the blaster fire and sending it into the window, causing it to crack. The expected anticipation of getting sucked into space silenced all movement in the hallway between the four of you. 

“Leave them to me,” Vader shattered the silence and motioned Tarkin out of the room. Tarkin shot you a glare filled with hatred and exited the room, leaving you and Crosshair with a killer Jedi.

Vader raised his hand and you braced yourself for the cold feeling. Instead, you and Crosshair flew through the air, hitting the door with incredible impact. Crosshair, who was higher in the air due to his height, had hit the door jam with the back of his head. You slid down the door into a heap on the floor as Crosshair landed face down. 

“Crosshair!” you shook his shoulder, but he was out cold. 

Vader closed in, his red blade reflecting off every surface in the room. You pulled Crosshair’s head and shoulders onto your lap and tried to look as small as possible against the door out of fear. Vader unexpectedly opened the door behind you, causing you to fall through its threshold. 

“Save the clone, traitor” Vader raised his hand once more, forcing you and Crosshair through the doorway, then he sealed the door behind him. 

In shock of being spared, you were motionless for a moment that felt like eternity. You couldn’t breathe. The shattering of the glass in the hallway spurred your attention back to life. You looked through the small window just outside the sky bridge to see the glass scattered through local space. Vader was nowhere to be seen.

You stood up, shoved your blaster into your pants, and began to drag Crosshair down the hallway. Finding a comm station, you ignited the holomap and located the hangar. You heard troops headed your way again, so you dove under the desk and pulled Crosshair in close with you. You could hear him stirring in his helmet.

“Crosshair!” you whispered. “Are you okay?”

You helped him out of his helmet, where he tried to clear his throat with a covert cough. 

“How did we escape?” he looked at you in bewilderment. 

“I–I don’t know,” you stuttered.

“You don’t know?” Crosshair rubbed his forehead and ran his hand over where he had hit his head, he winced as he touched what would be an intense bruise.

“I can’t make any sense of it, but I — we should be dead,” you whispered as you peered out from under the desk and back to Crosshair. You looked into his eyes and checked for any odd pupil activity. “Follow my finger—,” you started as you raised your index finger in front of his face. Crosshair softly swatted your hand down. “I’m fine,” he mouthed.

“We need to move,” you motioned. 

Crosshair nodded and the both of you shuffled out from under the desk.  

“I located a hangar bay while dragging you to safety,” you tried to lighten the moment again with your darker humor. “It’s just through here and down a flight of stairs,” you pointed to an upcoming hallway. 

You and Crosshair begin to jog down the hallway to the flight of stairs. Clearing the corners, he and you make your way down the stairs and into the hangar. You rested behind some crates of Imperial junk, peering out to inspect the ships.

“I guess any ship will do,” Crosshair motioned with his head towards a shuttle. You nodded in agreement. Slipping around the hangar unseen, you made it to the shuttle undetected. The few stormtroopers on deck were distracted with comms and computers.

“I don’t like this,” you worried again. “This feels too easy, again.”

Deploying the ramp, you and Crosshair make your way into the shuttle. Crosshair slid into the pilot’s seat and fired up the engines. 

An alarm goes off in the hangar bay and troops begin to flood in opening fire on your shuttle.

“I knew this was too easy,” you sighed as you slid into the tail-gunner’s seat. You take aim at the fuel reserves in the back of the hangar and anticipated lift-off. Crosshair takes off and begins flying towards the space barrier exit. You pull the trigger, igniting the fuel in a fiery explosion. Stormtroopers fly and flail in every direction. 

Crosshair punches the throttle and the ship erupts from the hangar bay, just escaping the chain reaction of explosions you began.

—

Watching from above the bay, Tarkin nearly loses his balance as the floor rattles and shifts. He watches an Imperial shuttle escape the bay and blast into hyperspeed.

“Who was that?” Tarkin drawled to an officer standing nearby.

The officer, with his hand to his ear, relayed the incoming communication from the hangar. 

“Sir, it appears we had a visual on the two prisoners from Prison Block E escape on a stolen shuttle.”

“Escaped?” Tarkin echoed.

In a fury, he exited the command deck and entered the elevator alone.

—

Inviting himself into Darth Vader’s chambers, Tarkin openly interrogated the Sith.

“It appears my niece and the clone have escaped,” he emphasized. “I assumed that was impossible because I entrusted you to deal with them.” 

Vader remained silent in speech; his deep breathing echoing. 

Tarkin sighed and turned to leave, but not without a final remark. “Your affinity for the clones is an embarrassment to this establishment.” He paused, then continued, “Their loyalty is to a republic of the past.”

Vader reminisced silently in memories of the Clone Wars. He remembered Crosshair as the specialized clone who had defended his back from droid fire on Skako Minor years ago. Vader was not a merciful man, nor known to be fair, but he did reserve respect for those who earned it. In his mind, Crosshair and he were even. 

“The clones were loyal to me,” Vader mused. 

“And they are no longer,” Tarkin chided in disapproval as he turned and exited Vader’s chambers.

Part 6: Above Pabu (NSFW)

Part 7: if You Wanted To Be

-----

Tag list: @tentakelspektakel @cloneflo99

[bunytime]

about Kyle and HUMANCENTiPAD

I only feel comfortable talking on this specific issue because it's not solely regarding head-canons or ships and I prefer to avoid infighting over more inflammatory topics to the best of my ability. Also, Tumblr allows for more nuanced discussion so I'm putting it here

This is not an aimed post, it's just my two cents

I want to start by saying I don't think someone is horrible for preferring to draw the most “canon-compliant” version of characters. I follow this in my own way. I'm commenting on why this is a concern to me as one Jewish fan. I don’t speak for anyone but myself. 

While there are exceptions, it is discomforting to see Kyle with these mouth scars for many reasons. I think S15E1 is pretty torture-porn-y as far as South Park goes (I don’t have a better term for this, sorry). No, I honestly don’t feel grossed out or disturbed by most episodes. Yes, it’s a comedy, and rightfully, if you don’t have the stomach for South Park, don’t watch it; to some extent, this also applies to the fan works which explore canonical dark tones. We also know Matt and Trey can take it too far and have in the past. S15E1 just is one of those personal thresholds for me, although this post isn't really about the morality of the episode.

Anyway, there’s a big argument about Kyle’s scars representing his overcoming of trauma, etc. but I disagree with this defense on why they should be there. If we genuinely wanted to talk about Kyle overcoming trauma, we would talk about the primary source of his trauma: how Kyle, even in more recent plots, is constantly harassed for being Jewish. We would also allow for more open conversation about antisemitism in the fandom, especially in the form of fan art. Kyle’s religion is irrelevant to how he wound up in the situation of S15E1. Therefore, the “overcoming trauma” point feels dishonest and inaccurate to me, especially considering the episode is just one long joke (vs South Park storylines which are more serious). It’d be fairer just to claim drawing it for fun.

For comparison: Butters has an eye scar; this is widely accepted within fanon. I have depicted it too. However, the optics of giving a blond-haired Roman Catholic white boy a minimal scar over his eye is way different than giving prominent scars over essentially half of a Jewish character’s face. Plus, it’s fair to say that an eye scar is usually regarded as a “beneficial” character design element regardless of origin.

Butters’ scar, while it would be a traumatizing injury, was accidental. Indeed, the conceit of “Good Times With Weapons” is the shitty way Butters is treated by the people around him. Kyle’s scars, on the other hand, would be from purposeful torture, and it’s lately been depicted not just as two sutures on the sides of his mouth but as large amounts of scar tissue shaped like an eerie smile. If it's to be scientifically realistic, then fine, but by that logic Butters should be blind in one eye or even more likely missing it, and other characters would be visibly scarred in different ways as well.

In addition, Butters’ appearance is widely and commonly depicted as “cute” - for lack of a better word - so adding a comparatively small and pinkish scar to a generally positively-regarded character (at least in terms of conventional appearances) is not the same as adding highly exaggerated scars to a Jewish character that fans generally don’t seem to think of as “soft” or even approachable the same way they see Butters. I draw Kyle with his kidney surgery scar, so I hope I am making it clear that scars are fine on characters. Of course, facial scars are very different. Still, when you stretch the scar tissue into an uncanny smile over half the face of a minority character from a one-time torture porn gag, it’s fair for people to be upset.

From my point of view, it’s off-putting because it’s about how a Jewish person (myself) sees fandom treat a Jewish character in particular; one who is frequently on the end of vitriol from within canon (Cartman’s abuse, most often) AND fans (that is: a whole subset of fans who think Kyle is cruel, heartless, and manipulative, and stress it) and it is arguably a symptom of something more insidious and deeply alarming than folks might want to admit. 

I’ll be the first to say that Kyle’s canon features deserve faithful depiction, even within stylization. Moreover, facial scars don’t carry inherent personality traits in real life. But fictional character design does not exist in a vacuum, and some people are virtually insisting that Kyle be as aggressively caricatured as possible. Please remember that for centuries Jews have been (subjectively but societally) associated with ugliness, weakness, dirt, and disease. Be mindful when portraying Kyle as extremely blemished and essentially inferior or ostracized. It’s not because facial scars are these negative traits: it’s about what they mean in context to certain characters. We all internally moralize what we dislike. As such though, it’s troubling to observe that this fandom scrambles to talk about why “feminizing” Kyle is hurtful to Jewish people, yet there’s no such section defending it as there is one defending Kyle's stigmatization.

[villainessprefect]

Hi! Could you do a Idia X female or gender neutral reader where they like to show off Idia a lot to the point where he gets embarrassed but is actually happy to have a girlfriend/partner who talks great about him? I enjoy your fanfics and I wish you luck in getting inspired to write more!

hello hello!! I hope I got this prompt down?? Initially thought it would be funny to show him off and you just hear him keysmash through his tablet but changed it to this route haha. again, thank you for reading and hope you enjoy this one as well!!

~

title: warm admiration

summary: You just wanted to try and ride a Blastcyle, yet here you are praising your boyfriend.

ship: Idia x gn!reader

word count: 1,473

Read on AO3

"Are you sure you wana ride that thing? Wouldn't you prefer to test it out virtually first?" Idia asks, his gaze lingering on you as you sit on the Blastcycle he made...for fun.

He didn't see the point in riding these things. Sure, tinkering with them and making them from scratch was thrilling, but taking a ride on it? Yeah, no. It has to be just as bad, if not worse, than flying. Okay, maybe he can see the appeal just a bit. Anime characters look so cool when they drift dramatically onto the scene just in time or when the main character went on a drive with the sun setting in the background.

It's so cringey that he imagines himself doing that for you. Ugh. At this rate, he's going to end up like a real normie. Gross.

"That's different," you argue. You let your fingers glide across the machine while balancing on it. "I can't feel the wind in my hair or the motor- it does use one, right?"

"If you want a simulation of the real thing, I can make it in a snap." He grins, full of pride. And you believe him. "Yeah, I guess in your case. Magic is supposed to power it, but you can be basic and go without it." A pause as he pulls his hands together. "I-If you need me to power it with my magic I can."

"Really?!" Your eyes widen and you smile. "Than-"

"Prefect!"

Idia jumps as he hears another voice, one that isn't Ortho or Grim's. He's quick to hide behind you to avoid any sort of interaction. So much for having some alone time out in the fields. Normal people wouldn't be out here while the sun is setting. While Idia would have preferred coming out in the dead of night, even he knows the roaring sound of this machine could wake the heaviest of sleepers.

"Hey, Deuce!" You wave to your friend as he approaches.

The first year comes to a halt in front of you. If it weren't for Idia's flickering flames, he may not have noticed him.

"Oh, uh, hello, Idia! Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"I wish you hadn't..." You hear him mumble. You reach out behind and put a soothing hand on his shoulder, rubbing him gently.

He's grateful for the comfort and glad that one of your more...calmer friends approached. Well, somewhat calm. As long as he didn't activate his delinquent mode then Deuce wasn't too bad on his own. As long as that other extrovert isn't tagging along with him, he may just survive this encounter.

"What brings you out here? I thought you had to study per Riddle's rules?"

"I do..." He sighs. "But I started to get a headache and decided to take a walk. Clear my head a bit, ya know? But hey, I didn't know you had a Blastcycle." Deuce eyes the machine more than he does you. A part of him feels like he has to apologize for giving it more attention than his friend, but could you blame him?

"Is it a new model?" His eyes are filled with childlike wonder and awe. You can tell that he just wants to reach out and touch it, grasp the handles and take it for a spin. It's taking all his might to simply keep his hands at bay instead of touching this priceless piece of machinery.

"No? Kind of? It's homemade." You point to Idia, who flinches as the conversation switches to him. "He made it."

"Idia made this?!" Deuce gasps. "Ignihyde is known for its technical powers, huh? It looks even better than the latest model..."

"Right?!" You chirp, leaning forward and nearly sliding off the vehicle. As you steady yourself, you continue, "I don't know too much about Blastcycles, but I saw Idia put the whole thing together on his own! Not even Ortho helped him out. It's like he knew the machine like the back of his hand! He even said he added some new thrusters! This thing even has some magic energy saver, which is cool to! You know, I bet if Idia made me one that I could use I'd beat all the magic riders." You say with a bright and confident grin. "You included, Deuce."

"Is that a challenge?" He says, getting excited by the prospect of a friendly fight.

"Hmph. They'd definitely beat you," Idia mumbles, not expecting Deuce to hear him. He retreats into his hoodie when their eyes meet and turn so his back faces him.

"Whatever Idia makes, I know it will be better than anything else." This time your voice loses that bit of fight, going softer. "He's just cool, ya know? Smart and pretty. I'd trust in whatever he makes me."

A part of Deuce melts at how sweet you can be towards your boyfriend. Of course, he still thinks he could win in a match against you, but he also knows that he shouldn't doubt his senior's skills. Even if said senior is hiding in his hoodie and trying to hide that fleeting pink hair of his within it.

"Do ya think I could test it out sometime?" Deuce asks to take his attention off Idia.

Now, you turn to look at him. You're not too surprised to find him hiding from the conversation, though you had expected him to throw in an answer.

"I'll ask him later." You say to your friend. "I can get him to say yes, don't worry," you add with a grin.

Deuce's eyes light up once more. He then clears his throat and stands tall to act as if he was never offered a golden opportunity.

"Thanks, Prefect!" Now he's excited. Then it dawns on him that he's out here for a reason. And now he's probably third-wheeling a date. Should he apologize now or just go? He isn't quite sure, but he decides on the latter. "And, uh, thanks for talking. I'm going to head back to my dorm now," a sigh. "Or it'll be off with my head..."

As you wave to your friend, you pray that he'll survive his study session. It's not his strongest point, but you do want him to do his best. Once left alone, you turn your attention back to Idia. While he may not have been active in the conversation, you always checked up on him after a hard encounter.

"You okay?" You ask as you slide off the Blastcycle and stand beside him. He seems okay compared to earlier as he's not too hunched over, but he still grips his hoodie and keeps it pulled down. And that's worrying.

Until you see his pink flames. A tendril of once-blue hair seeps from his hoodie. He couldn't conceal all of his lengthy hair no matter how hard he tried.

"Wh-Why do you talk like that...?" He asks, lifting his head so your eyes can meet. You find that his cheeks are colored the same as his hair.

"What do you mean?"

"So...lovey-dovey. It's cheesier than those Markhall movies."

"Do you not want me to do that?" You frown.

You adored talking about Idia, especially with Ortho. The younger Shroud was happy to have someone who could appreciate his amazing older brother. But sometimes, you slipped. Like today with Deuce. At least your friend didn't seem to mind the way you spoke about him, although to be fair others would be. You're just thankful it was Deuce who dropped by and not Ace. You didn't want to hear him fake gag over your love.

"I could dial it down a bit if you want."

"N-No! I just..." He releases his hold on his hoodie, fumbling with his hands as he tries to figure out what to say. "No one really hypes me up aside from Ortho...A-And hearing it come from you is like a dream...! They're like super special voice lines I should have recorded..." He's desperately trying to hide that toothy smile of his. You know he dislikes it, meanwhile, you found it charming.

"It's all true, you know," you nudge him with your shoulder. "You're the coolest person I've met. The best one too. Should I list all your wonderful attributes?"

"D-Do you seriously want me to KO here and now?!"

Another laugh escapes you. "I'd rather you stay conscious. So, I'll keep it for another time." You lean towards him to give him a quick peck on the cheek. If you couldn't kill him with your kindness, you would with your love.

Idia burns even more with that display of affection. At least no one, aka Deuce, is around to see it. He loves what you do to him, but at the same time, he feels as if his heart can't keep up.

[usmsgutterson]

A Start- N.L x fem! reader

all right! This one was requested by @naushtheaspiringauthor! Naush, if you're reading this I am so sorry that this request took so long to write! I've been struggling with motivation as far as writing requests is concerned lately and today I had a bit of coffee to help me get started! I hope you like it and if you don't, feel free to reach out and I'll make the necessary changes.

The type of Grisha that was wanted for this fic was never specified so I went ahead and had her be a tidemaker, which I hope is all right!

Fic type-this is a bit of both angst and fluff

warnings- a lot of mentions of the war, a mention of throwing someone overboard, and this is not my best work as far as editing is concerned--I kind of rushed it a bit because I am running on motivative fumes right now and didn't want to lose motivation part of the way through the editing process.

You were standing at the bow of the Volkvolny, Alina Starkov not three feet to your left. She had her gaze to the sea just as you did, unblinking and unphased but relentless in her hatred for the Darkling, just as everyone else silently was on the boat.

You were one of the Tidemakers on Sturmhonds crew, having been brought on by Tamar and only on your second day aboard the Volkvolny. You hadn't officially met Sturmhond yet but you didn't doubt that you would in due time, if the hostage situation that the Darkling had brought onto the boat was to be of any indication.

Your gaze was on the sea as the Darkling approached and hauled Alina away, lost in your own thoughts of life when you got to land again--comfortable bed, decent food, everything you needed to be content in that moment.

You headed away from the bow of the ship, thanking Tamar as she passed you one of the rum rations she'd just won in a game of cards, trying not to listen in on the conversation between Alina, Sturmhond, and the Darkling that was happening barely three feet away from you. You nearly let your curiosity get the best of you but with a sip of your rum you found yourself tired and ready to do anything but eavesdrop.

You let Tamar drag you off to a game of rummy, laughing a bit as she led you away and your rum sloshed around a bit in the mug, ready to get drunker than words could describe and barely remember it all through the haze generated by your headache the following morning.

-

The weeks passed, and you found yourself assigned to Mals care. You didn't fight it because, while you were on Sturmhonds crew, you were stuck taking orders from the Darkling while Mal hunted for the Sea Whip and Alinas second amplifier. With the second amplifier, Alina would get stronger, and eventually she'd be able to kill him.

You planned to watch the Darkling meet the end he deserved, for all that he'd done to your country and for all that he'd done to the people you held closest, and if getting a step closer to witnessing his death meant looking after one of the people he took prisoner, so be it.

Mal noticed that you, for someone who he thought must've been on the Darklings staff, were much kinder than those he'd dealt with in the previous few days, and as you purposefully lead him past Alina so that their hands might graze for a moment, a fleeting look might have been exchanged, all you could do was shrug.

"He trusts me because I'm willing to wear a bit of black and because the bastard thinks of Sturmhonds crew as his bloody own," you said. "Enjoy your fresh air while it lasts, lover boy. I'll try to persuade Alinas guards into letting the two of you have a chat after dinner."

"Why are you being so kind to us?" Mal asked, ignoring the whip of the wind as it drove past the two of you. "You seem quite stoic."

"You're using stoic in the place of rude and I don't appreciate that--I am stoic but rude is not something that I am or ever will be," you said. "I am being kind to you because you've gone without it for too long. You go without kindness for more than a few weeks and you'll turn out exactly as I have--reluctant to let people in, keeping everyone at arms length. Nothing will happen to you if you go down that route, and if anything does happen to you, it will be as rare as a dandelion in winter."

"And I think it's because of Sturmhond," Mal said. "You've clearly started to fancy the bloke and maybe you think that getting in our good favor will get you in his?"

"I am a twenty-one year old woman," you said. "I do not need to ferry the favor of a couple of seventeen year olds, regardless of the fact that one of them is a saint, to gain the favor of my own bloody boss, Mr. Oretsev, but thank you for that. I totally appreciate your assumptions."

"It's not an assumption," Mal said. "It's an observation. I noticed the way that you watched him when he was with Alina the other day--you don't think you're the type he'll fall for, do you? That's why, even despite the fact that every time he grins at you flirtatiously you grin back like a sheep caught between the crossfire of two gun wielding idiots, you haven't made a move? You haven't offered him the rum ration you win from a game of rummy?"

"Another word of Sturmhond and I will throw the both of us overboard, Mr. Oretsev. Am I understood?"

"You are indeed," Mal said. "I would even say that I understand your words as well as I understand your lovesickness whenever you look at him--Alinas taken to calling him the clever fox because of his hair. You're falling for a ginger. You have a good time with that."

You scoffed, having no intention to make good on your threats to him.

It was true that you'd fallen for the handsome privateer and it was also true that, in direct relation to his treatment of Alina, you never thought he would fall for one of your sort. A privateer and a Grisha wouldn't work and you had no idea why, in the weeks since you were first brought onto the team by Tamar, you'd thought it probably could've.

They were your delusions, though, and because they were your delusions you would learn to live with them just as everyone else learned to live with their own.

--

Time passed. The civil war was ended in a burst of sun and star and the death of a saint. Nikolai returned to his palaces and found that they felt too empty for his liking.

He couldn't place why, nor what could've been done to fix it, until one day Tamar came into the guards break room smiling, a letter in hand.

"Got a pen pal, do you?" Nikolai asked. At that, Tamar scrunched her nose in his direction and gestured to the plate of biscuits on the center of the table at which they sat. Genya pushed back a curtain to let a bit of light into the room, and begrudgingly, Nikolai grabbed a biscuit.

"Tame your demons today," Tamar said. "We have a trip to make to Ketterdam and I have secured us a place to stay that's not the embassy but will indeed provide more than enough protection in it's place while renovations continue after the oil leak. Nikolai, you remember Y/N, don't you?"

The girl he'd fallen for during the civil war? How could he ever have forgotten.

He'd loved you in silence, in glances to you while you stood and chatted with Zoya and Genya, while you laughed with Tamar and stole pieces of bacon from Tolya in exchange for your rum rations while travelling. The way he'd felt about you had snuck up on him in the days of the civil war, and despite all of his trying, it hadn't gone away since.

"How can he forget her?" Zoya asked. "The amount of loving looks he thinks nobody saw him give her during the war is astounding. Why bring her up?"

"Well, as mentioned, there was an oil leak at the Ravkan Embassy. We needed a place to stay in Ketterdam while we're there on business so I figured I'd reach out to a rumored member of the Council of Tides and see what she could do."

"And what all has she done?" Nikolai asked.

"She lives in a mansion in the merchants district. Six bedrooms and a nice kitchen, good food for the duration of our stay. I asked if she wouldn't mind our company and she said to come whenever."

Zoya smirked and Genya clasped her hands together, a grin adorning her face almost instantly. Nikolais gaze drifted to David, who was watching his wife with a smile of his own.

"I've missed her," Genya said. "I know we'll be there on business but it'll be nice to see an old friend."

Zoya glanced at Nikolai. "Or perhaps reignite an old flame," she said as Tamar wiggled her eyebrows, a giggle befalling her lips as she did.

"A flame that was never ignited in the first place?" Nikolai asked. "Write back to Y/N thanking her for her ability to accommodate us. I will see to it that she is fairly compensated for allowing us to lodge with her if she finds taking time off of work a necessity."

Tamar nodded. "I already wrote a note and sent it along," she said. "Eat breakfast, Nikolai. Your stuff is packed and waiting on the ship. We leave today."

"Ring for tea, will you?" David asked. Nikolai laughed a bit but did Davids bidding, trying to mentally get himself ready to visit the woman he loved but had not seen in too much time to count.

--

Two weeks came to pass, and Nikolai had found himself approaching your garden, mug of tea in hand, as he couldn't sleep.

The demon took him over when he slept and most nights, while the demon had indeed taken a step back that trip, he didn't like the idea of closing his eyes and letting himself drift off. When Nikolais conscious faded, the demons conscious set in, and he didn't want to know what kind of damage the demon could do to you or the kind of damage you could do to it in the name of self defense.

He flinched when he saw you--you'd hardly interacted in the two days since he, the triumvirate, Tamar and Tolya had come. He was hoping you wouldn't notice him because who, exactly, wants to have their first conversation in several years at three in the morning?

"I heard you making your tea," you said. "Come on out. I've been meaning to talk to you since you first showed up, but I couldn't really find the words to do it."

Nikolai stepped out into the garden, came to sit next to you on a bench made of fabrikator altered obsidian--Nikolai had heard you and Tamar discussing it, and you'd said it was infused with Grisha steel to make sure it lasted as long as possible.

"You work for the Council of Tides, yeah?"

"We're supposed to remain anonymous," you said. "I can't tell you that."

"You worked from eight this morning to midnight. That's sixteen hours."

"And in thanks for covering my coworkers shift, they're covering mine tomorrow. I will be stuck in this house all day long," you said. "I do work for the Council of Tides, for the record, but if you say as much to anyone, I will risk the treason charge and have you hanged. It was an opportunity and I took it because it was that or worry about everything in Ravka. I chose the one less likely to kill me."

"They clearly pay you well enough," he said. "Seven figures, I'd imagine."

"The money I make in a year is enough to have Ravka debt free and the treasury restored within four of them," you said. "It's ridiculous, but I either make good money and live in this mansion and pinch my pennies so that I can make sure I have a good foot to stand on when I sell this place and go somewhere new, or I don't make good money and end up living in the crime districts. I had enough of fighting, of open wounds and of shouting in the streets during the war."

Nikolai nodded. "I don't blame you," he said. "However, if making a donation to Ravka is ever in your cards..."

You laughed. "You are so lucky I find your face kissable rather than punchable. Had I found it punchable I would've done it just then."

Nikolai laughed in turn. "You've been missed around the palaces," he said. "I mean--your absence has been disdained by lots of us."

"Who?" You asked. "I write with the lot of them rather frequently--went to see Alina and Mal just last week with a couple of loaves of bread made by Kerch born bakers! Who's disdained my absence, Mr. Lantsov? Everyone seems to be getting on just fine without me."

"Your absence has been disdain by one person," he said. "Me. I couldn't figure it out for a while but then it clicked and now I just--fuck, I feel stupid."

You laughed. "You could've just said you missed me," you said. "I was barely a presence at the palaces beforehand, but I can indeed understand why you would miss seeing me browsing the books in the library you never went into."

"I was busy!" Nikolai shouted, laughing a bit and startling himself with the volume of his words. "I was busy, Y/N, trying to win a war, and when I wasn't I was indeed watching you look at the books. You always got so focused in the libraries--I've spent my time in your absence reminiscing on it."

You laughed. Nikolai set his cup of tea on the ground.

"I loved you during that time," you said. "I really loved you, Nikolai. Didn't think you'd feel the same."

"I did," Nikolai said. "--I still do, Y/N. I haven't stopped for all of my trying."

You blinked. You'd been trying to move on from the war, all that you felt during it and everything that happened. You'd told yourself you'd only hold onto friendships, onto the good memories that came of the war because those good memories were amazing and they were few and far between, so holding onto them could only make sense rather than letting them go.

You supposed that Nikolai was one of those memories. He was a good memory in spite of all of the yearning, a good memory despite the fact that you'd spent so much of your time drowning in the idea that he could never love you like you loved him.

"Do you love me still?" Nikolai asked. "You said that you loved me then. Do you love me now?"

It had been something you were trying to forget. You didn't want to forget it anymore.

"I do," you said. "I don't think I ever stopped, despite how much I wanted to leave everything behind me."

Nikolai grinned. "May I kiss you?"

And you nodded, and then his lips were on yours and it almost felt as though a piece of your life that had been missing since the end of the war had slid back into it's place.

You loved Nikolai, and Nikolai loved you, and while it wasn't much, it was certainly a start.

[miss-inkwell]

I would definitely chalk this episode off as a character and ship development one! My poor baby Janine was hurt but the comfort afterwards was worth it but let’s start at the beginning. Janine is struggling with a problem kid who won’t listen after she tries multiple times to help so she decides to talk to the parent. I love that she wants to seek out a solution that’s what a good teacher does. I also love that Gregory knew about this and they still have their mini conversations via the knock. Since everyone knows they like each other it’s prime teasing material which is so funny. “No love here” sure keep telling yourself that.

That later leads us the the conversation with Cassandra the parent and oh it was rough. Janine approached the situation as well as she could by saying he’s been causing problems but they’re a team and they can help. Cassandra missed the point entirely and blew up at her when this could have been and excellent moment to see how they could guide him. She was really harsh and had no right to call her a bad teacher! I was so sad for Janine in this moment.

This honestly is another great character moment for Janine even though I hate that she had to cry. Janine puts a lot of stock in perfection and doing good so to hear someone put her down is hard.

This leads us to an excellent Teddie moment where Janine is crying in her classroom and Gregory finds her. I love how soft he is with her you know seeing her sad is breaking his heart. I wish he would of hugged her than but I loved that he put his hands on her shoulders. Even though he comforted her he felt like he made it worse and wasn’t a big help.

He actually was a huge help though because he knows what she needs is her work mom. The cherry on top of that Teddie moment is that he still said he would be there for her before he left. They have my whole heart 🥰

This next part is a great work mom and daughter moment Barbara has a lot of experience with this stuff. I love how she goes out and asks her if she thinks she’s a bad teacher and how Janine isn’t even sure anymore because Cassandra destroyed her with those words. It was really such a teachable moment because sadly teachers have been through this. They’ve dealt with mean parents and people saying terrible and wonderful things. Telling her to pick herself up is great advice along with reassuring her that she does not always have the answer to take away the perfect view Janine has of her. It’s a great lesson for her that coming back to work ready to do her job is success is what will help her in the end. Barbara is the mother Janine always needed and I’m happy that even though Barbara is annoyed by her at times she is there for in moments like these. This dynamic will shine through next week in the mom episode which I definitely think will parallel.

Another scene I loved was when Gregory was making his speech about the teachers and how great they are. He may have said teachers but I know he was talking about Janine because he looked directly at her when she walked in. Not to mention how she is the whole reason why he’s full time and how he grew to be a good teacher in the first place. I would love a moment where he says that to her “you made me a better teacher which made me a better man you mean a lot to me” that would pretty much be a love confession and I would squeal. Now that the events of them dating other people are done and they’re somewhat over the awkwardness of the kiss they’re now back to their usual heart eyes. They’re back to normal but I love that everyone is teasing them now lol. I definitely think it’ll take time for them to get together but they are in a good place. Next episode will be an emotional one due to Janine’s mom coming and I wonder and hope Gregory and Barbara will be there for her. Great episode love the character and ship development